Lost Fleet 6 - Victorious

by Jack Campbell

  Lieutenant Iger nodded. “That matches my assessment, sir. The request for aid appears to be sincere. He didn’t tell us anything that was a lie. That doesn’t mean that he didn’t hold back other things, though. Things that might be important.”

  Desjani, her eyes narrowed in thought, was gazing not at the Syndic or the displays, but into the distance. “They’re not acting like they’re more powerful than we are.”

  It took Geary a moment to realize what she was referring to. “The aliens?”

  “Yes.” She turned her head to focus on him. “Concealing your strength, capabilities, and dispositions are all usually good tactics in battle, but there are still times when it’s a good idea to let the other side know that you have overwhelming superiority. Instead, they’re hiding their capabilities.”

  Rione was watching Desjani and nodded in agreement. “That’s so. Especially in negotiations.”

  “But,” Desjani continued, “it’s also useful to make the enemy think that you’re stronger than you actually are. To keep him guessing. It’s a very good tactic to employ when you’re actually weaker than the enemy.”

  Everyone stood silently for a few moments while they thought about that. “How do we know,” Geary finally said, “that they’re thinking like we would? Maybe to them, all of this mystery is just normal.”

  “Even hiding the shapes of their ships?” Desjani shook her head. “If what that Syndic said is true, then these aliens have devoted a huge amount of effort to keep humans from learning anything about them. Maybe they are privacy freaks who hide themselves under every possible disguise and cover, but if this were a human foe, I would ask myself what they are so concerned with hiding.”

  Lieutenant Iger spoke deferentially. “Captain, that’s from a human perspective. On Earth and many other planets, the dominant life-forms use physical displays to overawe opponents, trying to make themselves look bigger than they are. Humans do it, too, to some extent. But there are life-forms that use very different approaches, such as lurking hidden until their prey comes close enough, then striking before the victim can react.”

  Rione made a disgusted noise. “You’d think the Syndics could have learned a little more in a century of contact. This CEO is holding back information.” She suddenly seemed to think of something. “How long ago did the Alliance and the Syndicate Worlds ‘discover’ the hypernet technology and begin creating their own hypernets?”

  Desjani tapped her data unit, then read the answer. “The first segments of the hypernets on both sides were activated sixty-nine years ago.”

  Rione’s lip curled in anger. “The CEO claimed the aliens were fairly active until about seventy years ago and have been mostly quiet since then. Those bastards spent a few decades learning more about humanity, then sent in the hypernet technology and since that time have been sitting back and waiting for us to annihilate ourselves.”

  “Why the probing attacks during that time?” Geary wondered.

  “To make sure our sensors and weapons hadn’t changed in any major ways,” Desjani suggested.

  “That’s plausible,” Iger agreed.

  There were still far too many questions, and the Syndic CEO seemed to have far too few answers. “Is he worth keeping on this ship?” Geary asked.

  “I’d recommend it,” Rione said. “I believe his answer regarding the lack of attacks on Abassas. It registered true, and strikes me as a very effective tactic. I may have to use it myself sometime.”

  “I’d recommend keeping him as well, sir,” Iger added. “He could have more information, and he told us that he knew the people in the border star systems, the ones in charge out there. We might need those contacts.”

  Desjani looked unhappy, then slowly nodded. “We need every advantage we can get when we know so little about these aliens. And if he tries to betray us, I want him within easy reach of an Alliance Marine with a loaded weapon.”

  TWO and a half days later, Geary ordered the fleet into motion. He watched the swarm of warships come together into the single large formation he’d ordered for this part of the transit. Except for the flaring main propulsion units at their sterns, the warships resembled sharks of various sizes, a bit shorter and chunkier than any shark in the case of the battleships, but otherwise the comparison came easily. Fins carrying sensors, weapons, and shield generators projected from the curved surfaces of the hulls, which were designed to deflect hits. The fast, lean, and small sharks that were destroyers darted swiftly to their assigned positions relative to Dauntless, the larger light cruisers moving among them with almost as much agility. The heavy cruisers swung through space with calm authority, their greater armor, weaponry, and bulk reflecting their primary mission as killers of other escorts.

  The battleships moved like the monsters they were, huge, bristling with weapons, slower, and almost clumsy because of their massive size, yet as near to indestructible as anything humanity put into space. Around them came the battle cruisers, about the same size as the battleships and well armed, but leaner and faster, having traded protection for more ability to accelerate and maneuver.

  Near the center of the formation were the so-called fast fleet auxiliaries. “Fast” only in the minds of whoever had given them the name, the auxiliaries were neither rounded nor sharklike. Instead, their blocky lines resembled what they were, mammoth self-propelled manufacturing facilities that carried their own raw materials to fashion replacements for needed repairs as well as new fuel cells, missiles, grapeshot, and mines to replace those used by the warships. In combat, they were a constant worry, unable to maneuver as well as the warships or protect themselves very well, but without the resupply and repair capability on those auxiliaries, Geary could never have brought the fleet back through Syndic space. He hoped he wouldn’t need them as badly this time.

  The images of the new Adroit-class battle cruisers held his gaze for a moment, and he had to avoid frowning at his display in displeasure. There was no telling what anyone watching him might think the frown was about, and he knew from long experience that everyone watched the most senior officers to judge their current attitudes and emotions. It was one of the first survival tactics any reasonably smart junior officer learned.

  But he wasn’t unhappy at anyone in the fleet or the actions of any of the warships. His displeasure sprang from having used the fleet’s software to conduct a virtual tour of Adroit herself several hours ago. Geary had long ago resigned himself to the fact that the warships in this future weren’t finely honed structures built to endure for decades. Instead, they were all built quickly, with few frills and many a rough edge. A century of war had resulted in warships whose short expected life span didn’t justify craftsmanship.

  But the Adroit class had taken that to a new and lower level, worse than he had realized just from reviewing the official statistics about the new battle cruisers. As Geary’s avatar had toured the ship, he had been forced to ever greater efforts to avoid revealing how appalled he was by construction shortcuts and design compromises that had saved time and money at the cost of creating significant weaknesses in the Adroit and her sister ships. He could tell from Captain Kattnig’s explanations and occasional apologies about equipment that Adroit’s commanding officer was well aware of her shortcomings, and any veterans among her crew surely knew as well. But it would have served no purpose for him to emphasize and openly fixate on the design problems. Geary had been on the receiving end of that before, stuck with equipment he knew wasn’t all it should be, then forced to endure failing grades and harsh criticisms aimed at him and his personnel from inspection teams that seemed to think crews were supposed to miraculously overcome the accumulated failures of the design, procurement, and testing processes.

  So he took care to hide his reaction because Adroit’s crew could too easily have assumed that his disapproval was about them. Nothing could have been further from the truth than that. The crew was eager to prove themselves, disappointed at having missed the desperate voyage home that the rest o
f the fleet had endured, determined to shine in the eyes of Black Jack Geary. Captain Kattnig knew Captain Tulev. “We were enlisted men serving together on the Determined, and both received our field commissions after a battle at Hattera.” Kattnig’s eyes had gone wistful for a moment. “That was a lot of ships, a lot of battles ago. Tulev and I are still here, though.”

  “I’m glad to have both of you under my command,” Geary replied. “I understand Adroit was only commissioned two months ago.”

  “About that, yes, sir. But we’re ready,” Kattnig insisted. “We can keep up with the fleet.”

  “I’ve no doubt of it.” Geary had spoken clearly enough for nearby crew members to hear. “Adroit feels like a veteran ship. I know you’ll fight well.”

  Captain Kattnig nodded, his expression tense. “We will, sir. None of us could be with you on the long return to Alliance space, and we all regret that.”

  The absurdity of regretting missing out on the desperate retreat made Geary smile, but he managed to make the smile an understanding one. He didn’t have any trouble grasping why people wanted to be with their comrades at such times. “We could have used you, but you’re with us now.”

  “I understand Captain Tulev did well,” Kattnig added in a lower voice. “He excelled.”

  “He did. Captain Tulev is both reliable and capable. I was very glad to have him along.”

  “That’s good to hear. Captain Tulev and I were commissioned together.”

  “Yes, so you told me.”

  “Did I? My apologies, Admiral.” Captain Kattnig glanced around, as if studying his own ship. “They say you’ll end the war. This may be the last campaign.”

  “If the living stars grant us that blessing, this will be the last campaign of the war,” Geary agreed.

  “Yes. A good thing.” Kattnig sounded slightly uncertain, though. “I couldn’t be with the fleet, you know. My last ship, Paragon, had been badly damaged in the fighting at Valdisia, so we were undergoing major repairs at T’shima.”

  “I see.”

  “Then Paragon was rushed into action to defend the Alliance when the fleet was . . . unable to be accounted for. We were so badly shot up defending Beowulf that the ship was written off.”

  “It must have been a valiant action,” Geary said, wondering why Kattnig seemed to be trying to justify his absence from the fleet when it first attacked the Syndic home star system.

  “It was, sir. It was.” Kattnig’s voice sank to a whisper, his eyes staring into the distance, then he focused back on Geary. “I demanded another ship. To . . . to be with the fleet this time.”

  Geary spoke quietly and firmly. “The defense of the Alliance while the fleet was gone was a critical task. Otherwise, we would have returned to find ruin and defeat. You performed well.”

  “Thank you, sir. You will see how well my ship can perform,” Kattnig promised.

  Geary had done what he could to keep morale on Adroit high, but his inspection had provided too many proofs that her crew could fight better than the ship they had been given. Necessary redundancies in critical systems had been reduced past the safe minimums, weapons capabilities were hindered by cost-cutting in the lines supplying power to the hell lances and in the missile magazines, which carried fewer specters than even their limited size could have managed if properly laid out. Sensors lacked redundancies and capabilities as well, the Adroit class having been designed to be dependent on the sensors being employed by other ships. All well and good in a fleet engagement, but an Adroit-class ship on her own would be significantly handicapped by that feature. He couldn’t even send an Adroit out in company with only escorts, since the capabilities of cruisers and destroyers couldn’t completely compensate for the shortfalls of the sensors on the new battle cruisers.

  The design of the Adroit-class warships had once again driven home to him just how bad things were, just how much the economies and industrial base of the combatants had been strained by a century of warfare beyond even the abilities of interstellar civilizations to sustain. If he didn’t succeed in bringing an end to this war, everything would continue to deteriorate, an accelerating spiral toward collapse, as if the war were a black hole sucking in humanity and everything humanity had created among the stars. He could now understand the desperation that had led Desjani to demand his promise to stick to the mission she believed he had been assigned by the living stars themselves. He could understand the hope with which people looked to him. He wondered how much all of them understood the strain their hopes put on him.

  Desjani did. He felt certain of that. She understood well enough that she had as much as offered to surrender her honor to him if he asked that of her, if Geary said he needed that. His reaction to that offer, a refusal to do such a thing to her, had given him the strength to keep going. Humanity’s civilizations might be crumbling, but as long as people like Desjani kept fighting and believing, there was hope the fall could be arrested.

  So Geary sat in the fleet command seat on Dauntless’s bridge as the fleet’s warships settled into their assigned positions, then the entire fleet began accelerating toward the jump point for the Syndic-controlled star system of Atalia, hundreds of warships moving as one.

  He became aware that Desjani was watching him, unaware of his own inner thoughts. At least, he hoped she was unaware of them. At times, Desjani had shown an unsettling ability to seem to be reading his mind. “What?”

  “They’re a fine sight, aren’t they, sir?” she asked. “I never saw them maneuver like this. We were always slop-pier before. What counted was getting to grips with the enemy, not looking good in formation. We didn’t realize that there was a connection between those two things.”

  “They look very good. They are very good. But they won’t all be coming home,” Geary noted in a quiet voice.

  “No. It’s been a century since they all came home, Fleet Admiral Geary. Perhaps you’ll finally change that.”

  “If I do, I won’t have done it alone, Captain Desjani.”

  The fleet headed out, every eye in Varandal Star System on its progress.

  “OUR first stop will be Atalia,” Geary confirmed to the officers watching him. “We’ll assume battle formation before jump even though we don’t expect to encounter significant opposition at Atalia. If the Syndics want a fight there, though, we’ll give it to them.” The fleet conference room seemed to be huge just then, with a very long table occupied by the virtual presences of every commanding officer of every ship in the fleet. In addition to the fleet officers, newly promoted Marine General Carabali was present, along with Co-President Rione and two grand council representatives, the stout Senator Costa and a male senator named Sakai, who’d spoken little when Geary met with the council.

  Most of the fleet officers were doing their best to ignore the presence of the two new politicians but were treating Rione with marginal courtesy since it was known that Geary trusted her. The officers of the ships from the Callas Republic and the Rim Federation had always regarded Rione as their politician and defended her, but even they had been happy that they had never had to choose between her and Geary.

  Where Captain Cresida should have been, one of the new battle-cruiser captains sat. A replacement, and yet not a replacement. But at least the stolid, reliable presences of Captains Duellos and Tulev were there, and Desjani was physically present.

  “In order to ensure security for our plans, I’ll give further orders at Atalia,” Geary continued. “I’m not happy keeping you in the dark until then, but it’s critical to keep our plans secret. Are there any questions?”

  Most of the officers looked disappointed but nodded in acceptance. However, the newer commanders, those who had joined the fleet at Varandal, looked around with confused expressions. Geary knew what they were expecting, to have him lay out a plan that he would try to convince the fleet’s officers to support, using political maneuvering to build up enough support until the fleet commander called for a vote among the fleet captains sanctioning the p
lan. He’d done away with that procedure as fast as he could, though for a long time fleet conferences had been painfully contentious.

  “Fleet Admiral Geary”—Captain Olisa of the battle cruiser Ascendant sounded torn between respect and challenge—“fleet officers are accustomed to receiving more information about proposed plans at this point.”

  Geary gave Olisa a polite but firm look in return. “My plans aren’t proposed, Captain. They’ve been made. I’ll let you know more when I can.”

  “But we need to discuss—”

  Tulev broke in, speaking dispassionately. “Fleet Admiral Geary is open to suggestions and comment, Isvan. I assure you he will listen, but he does not do things as you are accustomed. He follows the path of our ancestors.”

  “Our ancestors?” Olisa grimaced, but nodded. “I had heard things were different. It takes some getting used to, though.”