“One of the eight star systems is already under alien control, but that’s pretty much right. Too many star systems would be within jump range for us to defend. We’d have to fall back all along the border until we could establish a new line where jump ranges limited the number of star systems directly threatened.”
“We?” Costa asked sharply.
Boyens flushed slightly. “I meant the Syndicate Worlds.”
“There isn’t any Syndicate Worlds now.”
“That situation isn’t settled yet, especially in places like the border, but if we have to, we’ll form a new grouping of star systems along the border. We can’t afford to let that area break apart. Individual star systems couldn’t muster the resources to defend the region.”
“By ‘we,’ ” Rione said, “you mean this time the populations of the star systems in the border area.”
“That’s right.” Boyens glared at the display. “Whatever’s left of them after this. Look, I know how you feel about us, and how you feel about me. But we have a common enemy here, a reason to stand together.”
“Why are they your enemy?” Sakai asked. “How has the Syndicate Worlds dealt with this enigma race?”
“I don’t know everything that’s happened,” Boyens insisted, “especially in the early years a century ago. I know we’ve been trying to learn their secrets, but as far as I know, we’ve never succeeded.”
“You provoked them,” Costa charged. “And now you want us to save your sorry souls from the fates you brought upon yourselves.”
“I don’t know everything we’ve done! But what does it matter? Whatever it was is history, done and gone beyond changing. Now, today, countless innocent humans will suffer if you don’t do something.”
Rione had been tapping controls softly and finally looked at Boyens. “It appears that if this star system is taken by the aliens, you’ll have to abandon more than twenty other star systems in order to reestablish a defensible border.”
Boyens stared at the display, then nodded. “Something like that. Several billion people would have to be pulled out.”
“Do you have enough shipping to do that?”
“In the border region? No. In all of Syndic space? I don’t know. I doubt it. We can’t draw on it now anyway.”
“What happens to humans left on planets the aliens occupy?”
“I don’t know. Nobody knows. There’s never been any contact, any evidence, any trace of them. Everything we sent in to try to find out something vanished itself without any trace as well.”
No one spoke for a while, then Rione turned her face to Geary. “Do we have a choice?”
“What do you think of that ultimatum?” Geary asked in reply. “Does it match what the other CEO said about it?”
“Yes. Blunt, direct, unequivocal, and not a thing in it that provides any clues to how the aliens think. It could have been drafted by a human.”
“Maybe it was, since the Syndics don’t know what happened to humans captured by the aliens.”
Sakai stared at the text of the ultimatum. “Prisoners? Slaves? Servants? Guests? Pets? If only we knew which of those applied.”
“You forgot ‘dead,’ ” Rione said in a quiet voice. “In any number of possible ways. We need the answer to that question. Without it, we have no way of knowing if peaceful coexistence is possible.”
“Peaceful?” Costa asked scornfully. “Whatever they are, peace seems unlikely. You saw what they did at Kalixa! They’re inhuman!”
Rione gazed back at Costa. “I recall some who argued we should use the hypernet gates as weapons despite knowing the devastation they would cause. The former leaders of the Syndics did make such a decision. Were these aliens to turn out to be human, it wouldn’t bring me any comfort.”
Costa flushed but directed her attention back to Geary. “Well, Admiral, what will you do?”
Give thanks that I never got involved in politics. Outwardly, Geary just gestured toward the ultimatum and the star display. “I want to talk to some of my officers before I make any decisions.” He started to get up, then focused on Boyens again. “Is there anything else you can tell us? The more I know, the more likely I am to decide to go to the aid of those people.”
“My people,” Boyens muttered. “I’ve told you what I know. Except one thing. You’ve accused us of provoking the enigma race, of causing their hostility toward humanity. I told you that I don’t know what the Syndicate Worlds did in the first decades after contact, and that was the truth. But our orders for the last decade at least have been to avoid doing anything that might incite the aliens, anything that might increase tensions or cause problems. I always believed that was because we couldn’t afford to fight on two fronts at once. Maybe there was another reason. But we haven’t done anything in a long time.”
“Perhaps these aliens have long memories,” Sakai said.
Boyens stared at him, then nodded. “Maybe. I won’t swear nothing happened. But I don’t know of anything. Certainly nothing recent.”
“There are compartmentalized activities,” Rione noted. “Actions kept from the knowledge of even those operating in the same regions. Would you have known of those?”
Geary could see the hesitation in Boyens. He didn’t need an interrogation cell to know the Syndic CEO was trying to make up his mind whether or not to lie. But, finally, Boyens shook his head. “No. Not necessarily. But why would anyone have done such a thing?”
“Why did the Syndicate Worlds start the war with the Alliance?” Geary asked.
Boyens met his eyes. “I don’t know. I guess they thought they could win. I don’t know why they thought that.”
“Surely there is speculation among Syndicate Worlds’ CEOs as to the reasons?” Rione said.
“Not all that much. It doesn’t matter. Didn’t matter. It mattered a century ago, when they made the stupid decision to start the war. If we talked about it, that’s all we said. It was stupid. But the reasons the war started ceased to matter a long time ago. We were stuck with it, that was all, and nobody knew how to stop it.” The Syndic CEO lowered his head, but not before they saw his pained expression. “Believe me, some of us wanted to stop it, but since we didn’t know how, we had to keep fighting.”
“Thank you. Admiral, will you have your Marines escort CEO Boyens back to his room?” Rione waited until Boyens had left with his escort, then sighed. “My advice is to go to the defense of the former Syndic border. If we let it crumble, and allow these aliens to establish control of numerous former Syndic star systems, the mending may be beyond every capability the Alliance possesses.”
Sakai nodded. “This is my advice as well.”
“It’s not mine. We have bled enough because of the Syndics,” Costa declared. “They got themselves into this. They can get themselves out of it.”
“And if they fail?” Sakai asked. “Won’t the Alliance be forced to deal with the results of that failure sooner or later?”
“The Syndics held us off for a century,” Costa said. “If they really want to confront these aliens, they’ll do it instead of asking us to clean up their mess. We’ve lost enough men and women, and plenty of children as well, in this war. We’ve nearly bankrupted the Alliance. We did that because we had to do it. We don’t have to get involved in a Syndic dispute with an alien race of unknown motivations and power. We don’t have to make a stupid decision to start another war.” The reference to the folly of the Syndic leaders a century ago was too obvious to miss.
“If we make the decision now not to go to that star system,” Rione said, “then we foreclose other options for dealing with these aliens. We won’t even be able to make direct contact with them unless the Syndics agree to allow that. Going to that star system retains our ability to decide what to do. Not going means leaving events up to whatever the aliens and the Syndics do, and personally, I have no trust regarding either of those parties. The Alliance needs a seat at the table, and that means going to Midway.”
“Just our
presence may eliminate the alien threat,” Sakai agreed. “If they are moving because of Syndic weakness, a show of strength may be all that is required to stop them.”
“Read your history!” Costa said. “Countless wars have begun because someone thought a show of strength would be all that was needed!”
“I did not say it was certain to resolve the matter. I suggested that it might deal with the problem. If it doesn’t, there will still be alternatives to fighting.”
“Do you think an Alliance fleet will back down in the face of a hostile force?”
“That depends,” Rione said, “on who is leading that fleet. Admiral Geary has not stated his own thoughts, but he is aware of our own positions now. I suggest that we grant him time to consider our options and consult with his own trusted advisers.” She nodded to Geary, as did Sakai, and, after a moment, a clearly reluctant Costa did as well.
Geary nodded back politely, trying to keep his own feelings hidden. He already felt that going to Midway was a necessity but wanted to speak to other fleet officers before deciding, and knew he had to bring up something else. “Did the Syndics provide any clues as to who sent the order to collapse the hypernet gate here?”
Sakai shook his head. “They claimed not to know and said there is no record anywhere within their systems of any such order going out from anywhere, even from the flotilla before it was destroyed.”
“Who else would have tried to destroy this fleet?” Costa demanded.
“I think we’ve just been talking about who else, Senator,” Geary said. “A hypernet gate collapses with no sign of a signal sent to it. We’ve seen it before. It could have happened here, and it could have happened before the catastrophic-fail routines were deactivated. I’ve confirmed that the Syndic ships have alien worms in their systems. That would have told the aliens we were here, but fortunately not in time for the aliens to collapse the gate before the catastrophic-collapse routine was deactivated.”
“Then,” Sakai said in a low voice, as Costa stared at Geary, “we are already at war with them, as are the Syndics, even though the great majority of the human race has no idea they even exist.”
“Wars can be ended, Senator,” Geary replied before he left.
Fifteen minutes later he sat in the fleet conference room, accompanied by the real presence of Tanya Desjani and the virtual presences of Captain Duellos and Captain Tulev. He explained the treaty first, pausing as he saw the reaction sweep through the three other officers.
Duellos closed his eyes for a moment. “I never thought to see this day.”
“Too long coming,” Tulev murmured. “Far too long coming, but it is here. The witch is singing.”
“What?” Geary asked. “The witch?”
“The witch is singing,” Desjani repeated, looking as if she were trying to blink away tears. “It means it’s over.”
“No, the witch is dead means it’s over. Or, the fat lady sings means it’s over.”
Duellos opened his eyes and gave Geary a skeptical look. “The fat lady?”
“Yes.”
“What fat lady?”
“I don’t know. It’s just a saying.”
“What witch?” Desjani asked. “Why did she die?”
“I don’t know that, either. All I know is a century ago those were separate sayings, and somehow you’ve combined them.”
“Perhaps there was a fat witch who liked to sing,” Duellos suggested. He laughed, and so did Desjani. Even Tulev smiled a bit.
Geary understood, then. They were giddy with joy, overwhelmed at hearing that the war would finally end. The Alliance senators had been subdued in their own reactions, concerned by the remaining problems, but then to them the war itself had been a distant thing. Unlike the politicians, the fleet officers had been dealing with the death and destruction firsthand.
But now he had to tell them that while the war might be ending, total peace was still a distant goal.
Something in his expression must have given that away to Desjani, whose smile faded into concern. “What is it? The aliens?”
“Yes, as well as the fact that we’re going to have a fragmented region where the enemy used to be. Lots of problems in human space, and the aliens trying to take advantage of that.” The levity drained from the other three officers as they listened, replaced by a searching appraisal of the information. “Captain Tulev, I would appreciate your frank feelings on this matter.”
Tulev gazed back impassively, giving no outward clue that his entire family, every relation, had died decades ago in a massive Syndic bombardment of his home world. “You ask me if we should aid those who caused so much death and destruction to our own?” He sat for a moment, unspeaking, then sighed. “My ancestors long ago told me to protect others from the Syndics, but to be willing to forgive lest hate destroy my soul as war destroyed all else I once had.”
“Tanya?”
“What?” she asked, looking angry now.
“Recommendations. I want to know what you think.”
“I think it sucks. Sir.” Desjani leaned forward, exhaling in exasperation. “I can’t find fault with the analysis. At least twenty star systems. That’s a lot, and some of those star systems are prime territory. I wish we knew more about these aliens. How could the Syndics have failed to learn much of anything in a century of contact?”
“It would be nice to know what their weaponry is like,” Geary agreed. “Or anything much about their ships.”
“I have a bad feeling that we’re going to have to find out the hard way, aren’t we?” Desjani turned an irate look on him. “The alternative is to allow something we know little about to grab a significant chunk of human territory.”
“Yeah.” Geary kept his eyes on the representation of Midway Star System floating above the table. “How do you think the fleet will react?”
“It depends what you tell them. Say we’re going to help the Syndics? That would go over very poorly.”
“Protecting humanity? How would the fleet like that?”
She made a face. “Not as badly, but the humanity in question are Syndics. Same problem. Defend, protect, those are all sort of passive things anyway. This fleet believes in going on the attack.”
He nodded. “We’re going to kick alien butt?”
Desjani suddenly grinned. “The aliens who messed with humanity. You have to give the fleet reasons to know these enigma whatevers have already threatened the Alliance, that they tried to kill us recently with that hypernet gate.” Her smile faded. “But if the fleet thinks this is the prelude to another all-out war, enthusiasm will be very limited.”
Duellos had been studying the ultimatum. “Whatever they are, they seem to have a good grasp of human legalese. That document feels like any number of human legal documents I’ve read.”
“That’s what the politicians thought, too,” Geary said.
“Maybe they’ve captured some human lawyers,” Desjani suggested.
“That might be why they want to destroy us, then,” Duellos agreed. “What would we do if alien lawyers descended on us?”
“I think they already have. Maybe all lawyers are aliens.”
“I know quite a few who could be.”
Desjani snorted, then shook her head. “Admiral, you’re asking if we should fight these things. We’re already fighting them. They cost us at Lakota, remember?”
“Yeah.” He would never forget having to watch as Indefatigable , Defiant, and Audacious sacrificed themselves to save the rest of the fleet. “I guess we owe it to those who died to confront the aliens. One more reason to go.”
Duellos nodded. “More than that, this Boyens, you say, is not unredeemable.”
“He seems, well, roughly like our own politicians.”
“That’s not exactly an endorsement,” Desjani muttered.
“Nonetheless,” Duellos continued, “if we can save the Syndic border region and help the star systems there form their own political coalition to replace the Syndic authorities, w
e could have a friendly power in that part of space. A minor power, to be sure, but immensely better than the entire border region fracturing into individual star systems.”
“Having such a power agree to our assistance would grant us access to the region it controls,” Tulev agreed. “This would be vital to the future defense of the Alliance. We must be able to meet with these aliens directly.”
“They don’t meet with any humans directly,” Desjani grumbled.
“Maybe we can change that,” Geary said. “You’re all in agreement, then?” Duellos and Tulev nodded, then eventually Desjani nodded as well though with a resigned expression. “Thank you. It ought to be interesting when I present all of this at a fleet conference. I really don’t know how it will be taken.”
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