Leviathan

by Jack Campbell

  “Things keep working out that way, don’t they?” Geary said. He looked over and saw a group of civilians hustling toward him, their clothes and overall appearance matching those of newscasters.

  The woman in the lead skidded to a halt about a meter short of him, positioning herself in a way that offered a good look at Geary from the vidcam resting on her shoulder. One thing that hadn’t changed in the last century was that news reporters were still legally required to openly display any recording devices. “Admiral Geary, there are many rumors making the rounds. The people of the Alliance would like a statement from you.”

  Geary waited as other reporters stopped nearby, behind them a growing, mixed crowd of military and civilians, all craning to hear anything he said. “I am waiting for orders,” he said. “I have reported to the government everything that I know and am preparing my forces to be ready for whatever mission I am assigned.”

  “Who really gives the orders, Admiral?” a male reporter demanded. “The government? Or you?”

  “The government.” He said it as if no other answer could have been expected. “I serve the Alliance.”

  “Does the government really represent the people of the Alliance anymore?” another woman asked.

  “As far as I’m concerned, it does,” Geary said. “As far as I’m concerned, I’m looking at the government of the Alliance right now.” He slowly ran his gaze across the crowd to drive home the point. “They are men and women whom you have elected. You chose them to speak for you, to make decisions.”

  “I didn’t choose any of them!” someone called from the crowd.

  “Did you have a voice in whether or not they were chosen?” Geary asked. “Did you have a vote, and did you use it to express your wishes? I didn’t actually vote for anyone in the government now. I was . . . not in a position to vote,” he added, drawing smiles and laughs from the crowd who all knew variations on the claims that he had not simply been frozen in survival sleep but actually among his ancestors for a century. “But I still consider them to be my government because you are the people of the Alliance, and you voted for them, and I believe in your ability to over time find the right solutions or to find the right people to find the right solutions. I believe in you, and therefore, I believe in the Alliance, and that will not change. If you believe in me, then I hope the fact that I believe in you means something.”

  Everyone was looking at him, no one was saying anything. The reporters fumbled for more questions. Geary turned to go, but paused as another question was shouted from the crowd. “Will you support the government if it does something illegal?”

  The silence this time felt almost physical in its intensity. Geary faced everyone again, and shook his head. “I will not support illegal actions. If necessary, I would resign my command and my position rather than carry out illegal orders. I assure you that the government knows that. Thank you.”

  A squad of security police had hastened up to provide an escort as the crowd kept growing. They readied themselves to force a path through the mass of people, but the crowd parted before him as Geary walked back toward the shuttle dock, knowing his words would be sent around the Alliance as fast as light, jump drives, and the hypernet could carry them, and wondering if they would make any difference.

  —

  “OUR requisitions are being rejected,” Captain Smythe said with an apologetic look.

  Geary glanced from Smythe to Lieutenant Jamenson, whose uncanny ability to confuse anything had proven invaluable in keeping the fleet’s many, overlapping sources of repair and funding from realizing anywhere near how much money had been getting spent on repairing his fleet. “Do they say why?”

  “Insufficient funds,” Smythe said.

  “They don’t reject the requisitions themselves,” Jamenson added, the green hair bequeathed her genes by the original settlers of her home world of Eire standing out incongruously in Geary’s stateroom. “They just say there’s no money.”

  “I told you that the wells were running dry,” Smythe reminded Geary.

  He looked at Smythe and Jamenson again. “You tell me. How do we keep the work going?”

  Smythe made a face. “Legally?”

  “Yes. Legally.”

  “Cannibalize,” Smythe said. “Pull funds from other sources that are available to the fleet. By the way, we’ve already received a number of requests to transfer some of those funds back to various higher-level accounts and have successfully failed to manage those transfers as of yet. Spend it or lose it, Admiral.”

  “What funds are we talking about?” Geary asked.

  “Training. Mess funds—”

  “Mess funds? They want to short how much food the crews of my ships get?” Geary demanded in disbelief.

  “No,” Smythe said. “They want you to feed them the same quantity in the same quality while using less money.”

  Geary resisted the urge to hit the nearest object. “And, of course, they aren’t explaining how I’m supposed to do that.”

  “No, of course not.”

  Lieutenant Jamenson gestured toward the star display over Geary’s table. “There were the budget cuts after the war, then money being siphoned off to pay for that special program—”

  “The dark ships,” Geary said.

  “Yes, Admiral, and apparently that program cost a whole lot more than was budgeted, and now I’m seeing reports that the fleet is having to reactivate some of the border defenses that were deactivated to save money after the war ended even though no one has the money for that. It’s actually pretty simple. Less money available, and financial obligations higher than expected.”

  “They could have guessed that the dark ships would cost much more than anticipated,” Geary said. “Is there any other way I can drum up more money for repairs and operations?”

  Smythe spoke reluctantly, his face twisted as if he were tasting something sour. “We could reduce costs by selectively shutting down some of your ships, Admiral. Don’t officially decommission them. Just shut down everything, send the crews to other ships, and leave them orbiting until we get the money to get them going again.”

  “I can’t do that!” Geary pointed to the star display. “At any time, I could end up fighting the rest of those dark ships, and if that happens, I will need every ship and weapon I can lay my hands on! How long can we keep things going by cannibalizing those funds we’re supposed to be transferring back to other people?”

  “A month, give or take a few days,” Smythe said.

  “Can we legally spend that money if we’ve been told to send it elsewhere?”

  Lieutenant Jamenson smiled. “Yes, sir. There are some amazing loopholes in official regulations. It will take some careful maneuvering, but we can drive a transport full of cash through them. After spending the money, I will inform everyone expecting it that it has already been spent, though saying it in such a way that it will take everyone months to figure out that has happened.”

  “I’m glad that you’re on our side, Lieutenant. Is there anything else?”

  Smythe looked thoughtful. “There are some critical parts and materials I would dearly like to lay my hands on, Admiral. But there are a few obstacles hindering my acquisition of them. Could you persuade Captain Desjani to loan me Master Chief Gioninni for a few days?”

  “A few days?” Geary asked. “I’m sure that can be worked out. What exactly are we talking about doing?”

  “Oh, Admiral, do you really want to know? Or do you want the parts and materials?”

  Geary sighed. “I need to know if this is anything that will get anyone court-martialed.”

  “No, sir!” Smythe said, not-quite-successfully feigning shock at the question. “That would mean someone was committing theft. Did you know, Admiral, that legally no one can be charged with theft unless it is proven that they never intended returning whatever they might have taken?
Assuming something was taken.”

  “You know,” Geary said, “I think I’m going to stop asking questions.”

  “Good,” Smythe approved with a grin. “I was about to ask Lieutenant Jamenson to start answering you. By the time she was done, you wouldn’t know your left hand from your right.”

  Geary waved dismissal to Smythe and Jamenson. “Thank you, both. Do what we discussed. I’m going to send fleet headquarters a direct and simple message, though, telling them that if they want this fleet to be in any condition to defend the Alliance they need to give it the money to maintain itself.”

  “Do you think that will actually produce any results?” Smythe asked.

  “Whether it does or not, it will be part of the official record, and no one will be able to claim I never told them there was a problem,” Geary replied.

  “They’ll classify it, refuse to admit that it ever existed.”

  “Did I mention who the information copies are going to?” Geary asked.

  Smythe grinned. “Now it’s my turn not to ask questions.”

  —

  THE light showing the arrival of a ship at the jump point from Bhavan had barely appeared when a frantic message from that ship came on its heels. “There are warships cruising through Bhavan Star System! They won’t answer any comms, they don’t match known Alliance ships, and they have intercepted and destroyed half a dozen freighters and other civil shipping in the days before we managed to reach the jump point for Varandal! We were lucky to get away with our lives! We need assistance!”

  “The software patches are spreading,” Desjani said as Geary took his seat next to hers on the bridge of Dauntless. “Bhavan is able to see the dark ships, too.”

  “But that ship is reporting a half dozen attacks on civil shipping,” Geary said, frowning at his display. “In a few days. The reports that Admiral Timbale had received didn’t reflect attacks with anywhere near that frequency.”

  “Can the dark ships tell when we can see them? Maybe that’s what triggered these attacks.”

  Geary didn’t answer, gazing at the detailed data the ship from Bhavan had attached to its plea for help. “Four battleships.”

  “Damn,” Desjani breathed. “Ten heavy cruisers. Twenty destroyers. Nice round numbers. If they decide to start shooting up Bhavan like they did Atalia . . .”

  “There won’t be much left of Bhavan.” He frowned again as he studied the data. “Look at their movements in the days before that ship jumped for here. It’s like the dark ships were enforcing a blockade.”

  “A blockade? Of Bhavan?” Desjani squinted at her own display, where the same data was shown, then nodded. “Yeah. If the ship that jumped here hadn’t been positioned well relative to the jump point for Varandal, they never would have made it. There were a couple of dark destroyers on their tail.”

  “Which explains why that ship is racing in-system toward us,” Geary said. His hand moved to the comm controls. “All units in First Fleet, be aware that two dark destroyers may be pursuing the ship that just arrived from Bhavan. First Battle Cruiser Division, you are to move immediately to intercept the incoming ship and protect it if necessary from any pursuers. Geary, out.”

  “Captain?” the comm watch-stander said. “That message the ship from Bhavan sent. It was a universal broadcast. Every receiver in this star system will get it.”

  It took a moment for the significance of that to strike home. Every receiver. Not just Admiral Timbale’s comm systems on Ambaru Station, or the other military and official comm systems throughout Varandal, but every civil and press receiver as well.

  “That cat is out of the bag,” Desjani said. “I hope the government surprises me and has already started trying to do something, though from the looks of what’s happening at Bhavan some more of the dark ships are operating outside their intended orders.”

  “Maybe a training scenario that they’re implementing as if it were real,” Geary speculated. “Or malware that activated offensive tactics against what the dark ships should recognize as a friendly star system.”

  “Whatever the reason, it’s produced a real threat. What are we going to do?”

  “The only thing we can do,” Geary said. “Go to Bhavan and lift that blockade.”

  “I’m not looking forward to trying to stop dark battleships,” Desjani said in a low voice.

  “Neither am I,” Geary replied. He hesitated, frowning again. “Tanya, the dark ships are at Bhavan, right next to Varandal.”

  “In terms of a galactic scale, yes, a few light-years is right next to,” she agreed.

  “They’re not hitting Bhavan. They’re blockading it. But one ship got away. To here. To let us know that dark ships were hanging around Bhavan.”

  Desjani eyed him. “That’s . . . interesting.” She looked back at her display. “Lieutenant Castries, run some quick analysis of what that ship from Bhavan sent us. I want to know if those two dark destroyers could have caught it before it jumped.”

  “Yes, Captain.” It only took a minute or so before Castries spoke again. “Uncertain, Captain. There is a seventy percent possibility that the dark ships could have intercepted that ship before it jumped, but thirty percent uncertainty due to gaps in the data we were sent.”

  “Thank you, Lieutenant.”

  “Captain? Why would they have let that ship escape?”

  Geary answered. “So that we would know they were there.”

  “With four battleships,” Desjani added. “So when we came to deal with them, we would come with as much force as we could muster. Sir, they want us to come to Bhavan.”

  “It sure looks that way,” Geary said.

  “So, what are we going to do?” Desjani asked again.

  “The only thing we can do,” Geary repeated. “We’re going to Bhavan.”

  FIVE

  “YOU’VE done this kind of thing before,” Captain Badaya pointed out. “You believe that the dark ships are programmed to mimic your tactics, and you have sometimes waited in ambush at a jump point where you expected the enemy to arrive.”

  “It’s not a tactic unique to Admiral Geary,” Captain Armus pointed out, his tone gruff. Never a cheerful man, he had been particularly unhappy ever since the dark battle cruisers had so easily slipped through a screen he commanded.

  “No,” Badaya admitted. “Hell, the Syndics have done it, too.” He laughed abruptly. “And you think Admiral Bloch commands the dark ships? What was his last battle?”

  “Prime,” Tulev said, his tone carrying no trace of humor.

  “Right! Prime, where he commanded the fleet, and waltzed us right into a Syndic ambush that hit us as we exited the hypernet gate there.” Badaya looked around the table. “Many of you know Bloch, too. If he still has control of the dark ships, don’t you think he’d try to copy the last successful battle he experienced?”

  “Bloch would certainly want to replay such a fight with him on the winning side this time,” Desjani said.

  “Does anyone disagree that this situation stinks of an attempt to lure this fleet into ambush at Bhavan?” Captain Duellos asked. He had arrived very recently, dashing home from leave as word spread through the Alliance of something very wrong that had touched Geary’s fleet.

  No one spoke up.

  Duellos turned to look at Geary. “But you are planning on taking the fleet to Bhavan?”

  “Yes,” Geary said. “Because Bhavan has more than one jump point.”

  The faces looking back at him, every commanding officer of every ship in the fleet apparently gathered at one immense table thanks to virtual conferencing software, shifted from disbelieving to realization.

  “Hypernet to Molnir,” Badaya said with a grin.

  “And jump from Molnir to Bhavan,” Duellos added. “It will take some more time than a straight jump to Bhavan, but neither Admiral Bloch nor the dark sh
ips are likely to expect it. They will think that we are charging to the rescue, hoping to cut off and destroy the dark ships seen at Bhavan.”

  “Will they wait long enough at Bhavan for us to take the roundabout way?” Armus asked.

  Tulev answered. “If the dark ships are there to ambush Admiral Geary and this fleet, they will wait.”

  “But what if we’re wrong about that?” Captain Vitali of the battle cruiser Daring asked. “What if they only wait for a certain period determined by whatever probabilities they have calculated, then bombard the hell out of Bhavan before they go home?”

  “There isn’t any way to know for certain,” Desjani said. “They’re AIs. They should be a lot more patient than any human commander.”

  “Unless Admiral Bloch is there commanding them!”

  “Would Bloch bombard Bhavan?” someone asked.

  Geary looked around the vast, virtual table again. “Many of you know Admiral Bloch better than I do. Would he take such a step?”

  Duellos shook his head. “Mass murder? Not to an Alliance star system. He wants to be seen as the savior of the Alliance, not as someone who did what a Syndic commander would have done.”

  “I agree,” Desjani said. “Ambitious as all hell, willing to sacrifice those in his way, happy to smash a Syndic star system that way, yes. But hitting Bhavan like that would be the kind of black mark that would prevent him from ever being accepted as the heir to Black Jack.” She must have noticed the wince that Geary couldn’t suppress. “Sorry, Admiral. But everyone who knows him would agree that Admiral Bloch has a bad case of Geary Syndrome.”