“Look at that,” Desjani commented. They were seated in the conference room, but this time the apparent size of the table stayed small. Instead, just off its end, a large window projected above the table displayed video from any of the scouts they cared to monitor as those scouts went through the Syndic facilities. The particular scout they were watching was going through what must have been the seat of Syndic political administration at Kaliban. Rows and rows of desks in identical cubicles, each left in identical shape, with every object on each desk positioned in the same spots in the same way. “They must’ve had people whose sole job was to inspect people’s desks to make sure everything was left exactly right when they left.”
“I’ve met people who’d enjoy doing that,” Geary remarked.
“Me, too.” Desjani suddenly grinned. “And here we come to the desks occupied by those who left last of all.”
Geary couldn’t help smiling, too. In the last row, several desks were in disarray, with long-ago dried-out drinking cups left standing amid scattered papers and documents, and some items that might have been leftover snack foods that had been desiccated and deep-frozen long ago. “It does look like the inspectors left before those desk jockeys did, doesn’t it? Ah, this might be interesting.” The Alliance scout was entering the main office. It still held an expensive-looking chair and a much more elaborate set of displays in addition to a workstation. “I wonder what that’d be like? Leaving a place forever. Some place you’ve worked at for who knows how long, and knowing odds were you’d never be able to come back. Knowing no one else would take your place because your place was gone.”
“Sort of like being part of the decommissioning crew on a ship, I’d think,” Desjani offered.
“Yeah. You ever done that?”
She hesitated for a moment. “We haven’t had the luxury of retiring many ships while I’ve been in the fleet, sir.”
Geary felt heat in his face and knew he was flushing, embarrassed at having asked such a boneheaded question. “Sorry. I should’ve known better than to ask that.” When the fleet was building ships as fast as possible to replace losses, it was a safe bet no ships were being gently led out to pasture at the end of their optimum service lives.
But Desjani already seemed to have moved on. She nodded at the picture again. “You can see where personal items had been placed for a long time. Whoever occupied that office stayed there for many years.”
Geary squinted, spotting the telltale darker squares and oblongs. “I guess so. I wonder where he or she went when they left Kaliban?”
“It hardly matters. Wherever it was, they went to help the Syndicate Worlds’ war effort.”
He didn’t want to answer that for a moment, but he knew the truth of it, too. “Yeah. What’s that?”
Desjani frowned, looking at the same object as Geary, a flat, white oblong resting on the surface of the desk. The scout they were monitoring walked carefully around the desk until he could focus on the object. “It’s a note,” he reported. “Faded but readable.” He bent closer to read it. “Standard universal script. ‘To Whom It May Concern. The left side…drawer…sticks. The…coffeemaker’s…timer…does not work. There’s…sweetener and coffee in the…right desk drawer…Take care of…everything.’” The Alliance scout straightened. “I can’t read the signature.”
Desjani’s frown changed into a grin that slowly faded. “Captain Geary, for the first time I can remember, I actually wanted to have met a Syndic. Whoever wrote that note seems like someone I could like.” She fell silent for a moment. “I’ve never thought of any Syndic as someone I could like.”
Geary nodded at her words. “Someday, our ancestors willing, this war will end, and we’ll get a chance to know the Syndics as people again. From what I know of this war, I don’t imagine you’ve much interest in that, but it’s necessary. We can’t let hatred rule our relations with the Syndics forever.”
She considered Geary’s words before replying. “Or we’d be no better than they are. Just as you said about our treatment of prisoners.”
“In a way, yeah.” He tapped the communications tab to speak to the scout. “Can you tell yet how long ago they shut this place down?”
The scout pointed to the document. “The date on this uses the Syndic calendar. Just a moment, sir, while I run a conversion.” After a moment, the scout spoke again. “Forty-two years ago, sir, if we assume this date is accurate. That coffee they left behind won’t taste too fresh, I’m afraid, but it’ll probably still be better than what they serve on our ships.”
“You’ve got a point there. Thanks.” Geary let go of the communications tab and looked over at Desjani. “Forty-two years ago. Whoever it was who wrote that note may well be dead by now.”
“It’s not as if there was a realistic chance of meeting the person,” Desjani noted in a dismissive tone, her attitude now implying she wouldn’t waste much time bemoaning the lost opportunity.
“Captain Geary?” Next to the scout’s window, a smaller one appeared, with images of Colonel Carabali and a Marine Major standing in it. Both Marines, in full armor, appeared to be in a Syndic facility somewhere. Geary checked the system display next to the picture, zooming it in on the location of Carabali. They were somewhere in the same facility as the scout Geary had just spoken to. “There’s something odd here.”
Geary felt a sudden heavy sensation in his guts. “Dangerous?”
“No, sir. We don’t think so. Just…odd.” Carabali gestured to her companion. “This is Major Rosado, my best expert on Syndic computer systems.” Rosado saluted smartly. “He tells me that not only have the data files for the Syndic systems been wiped clean and backup storage devices taken, but the operating systems have also been totally removed.”
Geary thought about that. “That’s odd?”
“Yes, sir,” Major Rosado stated. “There’s no sense in it. Why remove the operating systems? We’ve got copies of Syndic code that’ve been acquired by various means, so we can get the stuff working again. And not having operating systems loaded and configured would make it that much harder to get things going for any Syndics who came back.”
“The Syndics know we’ve got copies?”
“They know we’ve got copies of stuff a lot newer than what used to be on these antiques, sir.”
Those “antiques” are likely younger than I am. “You can’t think of any reason they would’ve wiped the operating systems?”
Major Rosado looked uncomfortable. “There’s only one reason I could think of, sir.”
“Which is?” Geary prodded.
“Sir,” Rosado stated reluctantly, “they would’ve removed the operating systems if they were worried about someone besides us accessing these systems after they were abandoned. Someone they didn’t think would have copies of their code.”
“Someone besides us?” Geary looked from Desjani to Carabali. “Who?”
“A…a third party.”
Desjani answered. “There isn’t any third party. There’s us and the planets allied with us, and there’s the Syndics. There isn’t anyone else.”
“There’s not supposed to be anyone else,” Carabali corrected. “But it appears the Syndics were worried about someone. Someone who didn’t have access to software that any human could be assumed to have.”
“You’re not suggesting intelligent nonhumans are you?” Desjani demanded. “We’ve never found any.”
Carabali shrugged. “No. We haven’t. But we don’t know what’s on the other side of Syndic space. They walled that off from us for so-called security reasons even before the war began.”
Geary pivoted to study the star display. Stars like Kaliban were far from Alliance space, but measured from the outer edge of Syndic territory, they weren’t all that far from the known limits of the Syndicate Worlds. “If this speculation was true, they’d have had to have known about these whatevers as of at least forty-two years ago when they shut down everything at Kaliban. Could they keep a secret like that for so
long?”
The Marine commanding officer shrugged again. “It would depend on a lot of factors, sir. Neither I nor Major Rosado are saying such beings exist. We’re pointing out that this is the only explanation we’ve been able to come up with for what the Syndics did when they left Kaliban.”
“If there were such things out here,” Desjani countered, “wouldn’t we have run into them?”
“Maybe we will,” Geary replied. “Are there any fleet procedures for dealing with nonhuman contact?”
Desjani looked baffled. “I don’t know. There’s never been any call for them, so I don’t know of anyone who’s looked into it. Maybe something exists, but it’d be really ancient, from before the war.” Geary assumed he managed to conceal his reaction to that last statement since Desjani went on speaking, oblivious. “In any case, how could these nonhuman intelligences reach Kaliban if the Syndics didn’t want them to? Kaliban isn’t next door to the Syndic frontier.”
Colonel Carabali looked apologetic but spoke again. “If there were nonhuman intelligences out here, they might have a different means of faster-than-light travel. Right now, humans have two such means. There could be other means, and one of those might make Kaliban accessible from the Syndic frontier. But I’m not saying that’s the reason for the Syndics’ actions. I’m not saying nonhuman intelligences exist or have been encountered by the Syndics. I’m just saying that’s the only explanation we’ve been able to come up with that makes any sense at all for what the Syndics did here.”
Geary nodded. “Understood, Colonel. I appreciate your sharing that idea, even though as you say there’s no certainty at all to it. But you’re telling me that we can get any of the Syndic systems running again despite what they did?”
Major Rosado smiled confidently. “Yes, sir. If you want it up, we can get it working.”
“You’re talking to the scout teams from the fleet auxiliaries?”
“Yes, sir. There’s a team from Jinn with us here making an assessment on whether this site holds anything we can use.”
“Good. Thanks for your information.” The second window vanished, leaving only the scene from the Alliance scout as he painstakingly went over the office.
Desjani shook her head. “I never imagined I’d hear Marines worrying about two-headed aliens from the dark beyond.”
Geary smiled but then sobered. “Yet they couldn’t find any other reason for what the Syndics did. Can you think of a reason?”
“Perversity? Some stupid bureaucrat? People don’t always do things for reasons that make any sense.”
“True. Being in the fleet, we know all about that, right?”
Desjani grinned and nodded. “I really wouldn’t waste time worrying about it, sir.”
“No, I guess not, though frankly that’s a lot of work to go to without any good reason.” Geary checked the time. “We’ve got something else to worry about right now.”
* * * *
For at least the tenth time in the last half hour, Geary fought to suppress an angry comment. The ships that were supposed to have moved into a block-shaped formation to one side of the main body had gotten into some sort of dispute based on the seniority of ship commanders, so that instead of taking assigned stations, some ships were trying to wedge their way into locations where other ships were already in place. Geary counted to five slowly, then keyed his communications. “All units in formation bravo, be advised that everyone will get equal opportunity to engage the enemy. Proceed to your assigned stations.”
He pondered taking something for the headache growing between his eyes while he watched the errant ships somewhat sheepishly alter their courses. Except for Audacious, which kept edging in toward Resolution in an apparent attempt to bull the other ship aside so that Audacious could lay claim to what looked like a leading position. “Audacious, did you copy my last?” He waited a minute to see if Audacious would respond, but the warship kept sidling in toward Resolution. Fine. Let’s see if a little humor will defuse this without my having to relieve another commanding officer. “Audacious, be advised that if you are attempting to mate with Resolution, you might try buying her a few drinks first.”
Off to one side, Geary heard Captain Desjani almost choke on her coffee. He heard no reply from Audacious, but the warship finally angled away and back toward its assigned station. A moment later, Resolution called in. “Alliance battle cruiser Resolution wishes to report that her virtue remains intact.”
This time Desjani laughed, as did Geary. Good. That’s the sort of thing that indicates morale is okay. For the moment, at least. He watched the other ships in formation bravo belatedly sliding into position, shaking his head. Thank goodness I can do this by simulation. I wish I could do it for real, too, but I can’t afford to burn the amount of fuel reserves that’d require.
Geary waited until the laggard ships had reached their stations, then tapped his communications controls again. “All units, I’m going to put your simulated ship movements on automatic for a little while. I want to show you what happens when we employ these two formations in a coordinated fashion.” He activated the sequence he’d programmed during the transit through jump space.
In the simulated version of the Kaliban System, a large Syndic force suddenly appeared near the Alliance formations. Geary let the simulation run, showing the two Alliance formations rotating to angles that maximized their firepower against opposite edges of the onrushing enemy.
He’d deliberately kept the scenario short, so twenty minutes later the remnants of the simulated Syndics were fleeing for their lives. Geary let another couple of minutes pass after the simulation paused, then spoke again. “There’s a couple of points I want to make. First of all, you’ll note that when the separate formations are properly employed, it maximizes our capability to employ the most ships and the most firepower against the enemy. You’ll notice that every ship in formation bravo hit the enemy hard because of the way that formation swept across the enemy flank. Secondly, this scenario I just ran worked because every ship did what it was supposed to do.”
He studied the vision of impossibly easy victory in the simulation. It’d been too painless, too uncomplicated, but he wanted the messages taught by it to be clear. “If we work as a disciplined fighting force, we can kick the Syndics so hard, they won’t know what hit them. The simulations and formations we’re going to practice over the next few weeks are going to get progressively more complex, but I wanted everyone to know the reason we’re doing this. I promise you this fleet can beat any comparable force nine times out of ten if we have the same valor but apply it in a disciplined manner.”
Desjani gave him a thumbs up from the other side of the simulation room. Geary nodded back at her, wishing that all of his ship captains had her unquestioning loyalty. “That’s all. The next simulation will be run in two hours. I’ll see you then.” He stretched and stood up. “I think I can safely predict that within the next two days everyone will be sick to death of running these practice drills.”
“Do you really think we can pull off that kind of maneuvering of independent formations in a time-late data situation involving an enemy who’s reacting to our actions?” Desjani asked.
Geary nodded. “Yeah. So you spotted how the enemy force behaved in that simulation, huh?”
“Yes, sir. As much as I hate the Syndics, I don’t think they’re quite as stupid as that attacking force acted.”
This time Geary grinned. “Maybe if we’re lucky. But, no, I’m not planning on them actually acting that stupid. But, yes, I think I can call the orders. I learned the skill under some very good practitioners of the art.” Then he remembered how long those men and women had been dead, and his smile faded.
By late the next day, Geary realized his prediction had been off by one day. Most of the ship commanders, burdened by their normal command responsibilities, had already gotten tired of simulating maneuvering and battles for a good portion of each day. It didn’t help that Geary had set the simulations to get
progressively more difficult. “Listen up,” Geary admonished them after the last drill of the day. “We don’t know how long we have before the Syndics show up here. We need to be ready. That means packing a lot of work into the shortest time possible. See you tomorrow.”
He slumped back in his seat, feeling wearied from the constant effort involved in not only riding herd on all the ships under his command but also in massaging the egos of their commanders. “We have an update from Witch,” Desjani advised. “The mining facility on Ishiki’s Rock should be in working order tomorrow. They expect to be pulling out ore and sending it to the auxiliaries by late tomorrow afternoon.”
“Great.” Geary peered at the message. “Ishiki’s Rock? Oh, that one. The asteroid mine. That isn’t what the Syndics called it, is it?”
“No. There didn’t seem any reason to go to the trouble of finding out what name the Syndics used. Ishiki is the senior enlisted who did the first reconnaissance and evaluation of the mining facility there.”
“Then it’s as good a name as any,” Geary reflected. He called Witch. “Captain Tyrosian? If time permits, I’d like one of your machine shops to churn out a small plaque identifying the asteroid mining facility as Ishiki’s Rock. We’ll tack it up somewhere down there.”
Tyrosian looked briefly startled, then smiled. “Chief Ishiki will surely appreciate that, sir. Do you want any ceremony when we put the plaque up?”
“If you want to improvise something, feel free. Everybody in this fleet is working their butts off, and we can use an excuse for a little fun.”
“Yes, sir. There’s some good metal in that rock. How long will we have to exploit it?”
Geary thought about the question. “That’s still undetermined at this time. Assume you have to work fast, but if possible, I want to top off the bunkers in the auxiliaries with raw materials before we leave.”
The Lost Fleet: Dauntless Page 23
