The Lost Fleet: Beyond the Frontier: Guardian

by Jack Campbell

  Geary tapped in the same queries that everyone else was, seeing an image of the galaxy appear near his display with human-occupied space highlighted upon it. The image gave him momentary pause. We think we’ve come so far. In human terms, we have. Hundreds of light-years. Unimaginable distances. But lay out the region of the galaxy that we have explored and occupied, and it is just a small piece of one portion of that galaxy, which itself is but one of countless other galaxies. I’m used to space being huge, but even for me it is impossible to grasp how HUGE the universe is.

  Rione commented first. “I never realized how lopsided human expansion has been. In terms of stars and distance, the vast majority has been inward toward the center of the galaxy. We’ve spread up and down and inward. I always assumed we started expanding in those directions. But my data says we first started going outward.”

  “Something stopped us,” Costa said, her voice suspicious. “More threats like the enigmas who stopped our expansion inward?”

  “How could that secret have been kept for so long and so close to Old Earth?” Rione asked. “The Syndics kept knowledge of the enigmas from us for a century, but that was because their contact with the enigmas was in regions of space far from our own, and the war drastically limited communications.”

  “And,” Charban added, “we had stopped looking for other intelligent species after so many stars and worlds had yielded none. In the early days of human expansion, we expected to encounter such beings at any time.”

  Geary had his eyes on the increasingly detailed images that Dauntless’s sensors were creating of the unknown warships. “They look human. The ships, I mean. We have some experience with nonhuman spacecraft designs. I don’t see anything on those warships that looks like the differences we saw on ships built by the enigmas or the Kicks or the Dancers.”

  “What do I do?” Desjani asked him.

  “Head for Old Earth,” Geary directed. “Transmit the standard arrival message to the Sol Star System authorities there. We’ll continue with our mission until something makes us do otherwise.”

  Had one or more of the senators been ready to put their oar in? But none of them did, perhaps because none of them could think of any other useful form of action right now.

  “Those may be human-built ships,” Desjani commented after adjusting the course of Dauntless slightly, “but look at all that extra junk on them. They look like something from one of those space fantasies. What do you call that stuff?”

  Lieutenant Castries answered. “Frippery and furbelows, Captain. You’re right. Those ships look like the illustrations to a space fantasy with kings and princesses and wizards. They’re crawling with decorative detail. The ship’s systems are trying to analyze the purposes of those features, but I don’t think they have any other purpose but decoration.”

  “Is that why the fins on those ships are so big?” Lieutenant Yuon asked. “They’ve got a lot more height than should be required for sensors and shield generators.”

  Desjani raised an eyebrow toward Castries. “You read space fantasy, Lieutenant?”

  “Not . . . much . . . lately, Captain. I mean, yes, Captain.”

  “Everyone needs some romance,” Geary said, while Lieutenant Castries acted as if she were suddenly absorbed in analyzing sensor readings.

  “Oh, please.” Desjani rolled her eyes. “One of those stories where the beautiful, brainy princess wakes the sleeping Black Jack with a kiss so that together they can overthrow the evil star demon and live happily ever after?”

  Geary realized his mouth was hanging open and shut it hastily. “Tell me that you’re kidding.”

  “Nope. Lieutenant Castries?”

  “Those are usually pretty good,” the hapless Lieutenant admitted. “They don’t get you right, Admiral, of course.”

  “Would you like to see some of the illustrations for those?” Desjani asked.

  “No, I would not. If I may get back to the situation we’re facing, you’re telling me these outer-star ships are extensively ornamented, and not for any useful purpose.”

  Lieutenant Iger, who had still been listening but wisely refraining from commenting up until now, nodded. “It might not impact their fighting capabilities, Admiral, but it does indicate they have the luxury of investing resources into nonfunctional ornamentation.”

  Rione shook her head. “I have seen a great deal of nonfunctional ornamentation in my time, and I can say with certainty that not all of it was purchased because the person doing the buying could afford it. We may be dealing with status, appearance, and other issues that have little to do with simple monetary calculations.”

  Lieutenant Castries spoke up again, sounding excited. “Captain, I asked our systems to evaluate the fins on those ships, adding in variables for nonfunctionality. When asked to do that, our systems have evaluated a high probability that the fins were designed for form rather than strength.”

  “Ostentation?” Senator Suva asked. “Display? Are we certain these are warships?”

  “We have identified some weapons,” Lieutenant Iger said. “Not too many, yet, but the ships are definitely armed.”

  Charban was shaking his head, mouth pursed. “Speaking as an outside observer, I have seen a lot of ships. I have never seen any that look like that which weren’t warships.”

  “Common design ancestry,” Senator Sakai said. “That is what our systems analyzed, is it not? These ships came from the same sources as the one we are aboard. We can reasonably estimate function from appearance.”

  “They’ve finally seen us,” Lieutenant Yuon reported. “They’re altering vectors.”

  Geary watched his display as the unknown warships turned inward toward Sol and began accelerating. “They’re coming our way but not directly at us.”

  “Look at their vector. They first want to block our direct path back to the hypernet gate,” Desjani said. “Wait and see. Whoever they are, they are moving to block our access to the hypernet gate. That is not a friendly act.”

  “Maybe they—” Suva stopped speaking, then shook her head. “It does look as if they’re trying to keep us from leaving before warning us off, if that’s what they intend.”

  “They’re trying to trap us?” Costa demanded.

  Geary looked to Rione and Charban. “Please tell the Dancers we would like them to stay close to us. If they ask about the other warships, tell them we’re trying to figure out who they are and what they want.”

  “You make telling them that sound so simple,” Rione commented sarcastically. “We will try our best.”

  “Captain?” the communications watch-stander called. “We have a message coming in from the unidentified warships. It uses an old format that’s standard for comms in Sol Star System and is addressed to our, uh, ‘senior superior command supervising authority and controller.’”

  “Redundant much?” Desjani growled. “Forward it to the Admiral.”

  “Let everyone on the bridge see it,” Geary ordered. “Envoys Rione and Charban, please wait on that message to the Dancers until we see what these other ships tell us.”

  An image appeared before him of a man well past middle age seated on a bridge not too different from that of Dauntless. No surprise there. The most efficient arrangement of controls and watch stations had been worked out centuries ago. Wherever anyone went in human space, they would find the configuration of a ship’s bridge to be roughly similar.

  The man wore a uniform with such elaborate design and ornamentation that Geary found himself searching for the rank insignia and unable to sort it out among the many other glittering objects adorning the outfit. The suits of Syndic CEOs were well-known for their intricate and expensive tailoring, but this uniform would have put any Syndic CEO to shame. The man’s hair was about shoulder length and as ostentatiously styled as his uniform, the top of the hair formed into a stiff peak that ran back like the plume on an ancient helmet. On the man’s right and left breasts, a solid sheet of award ribbons and medals formed a multicol
ored breastplate reaching from shoulder to waist.

  It was all undoubtedly meant to be impressive, but as Geary took in the gaudy image, he heard Tanya Desjani not quite stifle a giggle. Elsewhere on the bridge of Dauntless, there were muffled laughs and suppressed sounds of wonderment.

  “I am His Excellency Captain Commodore First Rank Stellar Guard of the Fist of the People Earun Tavistorevas, Paramount of the Shield of Sol,” the extravagant officer declared in a bored tone of voice. “I condescend to speak to the lowly representatives of the barbarous government of the inconsequential so-called Alliance. You have entered this star system without permission. You have brought with you tramontane creatures whose presence is an affront to the unsullied Earth. Hear my command. You will disable all combat systems. You will graciously welcome security auditors who will board your vulgar craft in search of impurities and render it impotent to do harm. You will surrender the tramontane conveyances to us. Once you have complied with all instructions and requirements, I will permit you to depart upon your plea for clemency. By the authority granted me to ensure the security of all, this is Earun Tavistorevas.”

  Geary was the first to speak when the transmission ended. “What the hell is a tramontane?”

  Rione answered. “I just looked it up. An ancient term which literally means ‘from over the mountains.’ Newer meanings, and by newer I mean quite a few centuries ago, are ‘foreigner,’ ‘barbarian,’ or ‘alien.’”

  “They couldn’t just say ‘alien’?” Charban asked. “I assume they are referring to the Dancers.”

  “Vulgar craft?” Desjani said in a dangerous voice. “Did they call Dauntless a vulgar craft?”

  Uncharacteristically, Rione answered again, speaking directly to Desjani. “They appear to feel superior to us in all ways.”

  “How many awards did that clown have displayed on his chest?” Charban, who rarely spoke so bluntly, let his words drip with scorn. “He must be the greatest hero by far in the history of humanity.”

  “Give me a background shot from that transmission,” Geary ordered.

  Without the image of the “Captain Commodore” in the foreground, they could much more easily make out the figures of the others on the bridge of his ship. All of them displayed large panels of awards on their uniforms, though none as large and sparkly as that of their leader.

  “Make that a crew of amazing heroes,” Desjani said contemptuously. “They must hand out medals for getting up in the morning.”

  “From the looks of it,” Geary said, “they may hand out medals for displaying your prior medals properly.”

  Senator Suva spoke angrily. “Are you all done mocking him? You do realize he ordered us to surrender this ship? And that we are very badly outnumbered?”

  “He’s over half a light-hour distant,” Geary pointed out. “I don’t know what velocity he will accelerate to, but his ships seem to be maneuvering comparably to our ships. It’s going to take him a while to catch us even if we don’t speed up.”

  “Speed up? Are you talking about resisting his orders?”

  Rione sounded more annoyed than angry as she answered. “We have no obligation to follow his orders. Nor do I trust him to abide by his claim that he would let us go after disabling our weapons and after we beg his forgiveness for breaking rules we did not know of and are not required to follow.”

  “He can enforce those rules,” Charban said in a heavy voice. “He has the firepower to do so.”

  “We cannot fight in Sol Star System!” Suva cried. “Even those who do not consider it sacrilegious would be outraged!”

  Geary spoke loudly enough to shut down the conversation. “We don’t intend fighting. I’m going to answer that overdressed clown, telling him politely that as a warship of the Alliance we are not subject to his authority in a neutral star system. I will further tell him that the business of the Dancers is with the authorities here, not with his . . . whatever it is.”

  “He didn’t address his message to you, so you shouldn’t answer it,” Costa said sharply. “He specifically said it was for the representatives of the—” She broke off, looking startled.

  Sakai nodded slowly. “How did he know this ship carried representatives of the Alliance government?”

  “Could someone have gotten here ahead of us?” Costa demanded.

  “Someone must have. Someone who left Varandal allegedly en route a different destination came to Sol instead, and left before we arrived.” Sakai’s face had become as unrevealing of emotion as stone. “Those ships were awaiting our arrival and, immediately upon seeing us, acted aggressively. I wonder what would become of each of us if we surrendered to their demands?”

  “Who would want all three of us—” Suva began, then also ceased speaking abruptly.

  Sakai nodded again. “Perhaps not all three of us are in peril. Perhaps one, or two, would be released safely. Perhaps not. There may be those who want none of us to come home.”

  “You know there are,” Costa spat. “And some of them have a lot of money. That overdressed buffoon may act contemptuous of the lowly government of the inconsequential Alliance, but I’ll bet you he accepted a handsome bribe from . . . some person.” She looked around, half-defiant and half-worried, becoming aware again that others were listening to the discussion.

  Desjani’s eyes went to Geary. He could read the message in them. You’re the target of this, too. You and Dauntless.

  He nodded back to her in wordless agreement, trying not to let his expression become too grim. Black Jack without a fleet at his back. A single battle cruiser, outnumbered and isolated. The politicians on board might be targets, Costa, Suva, Sakai, and Rione, but were they the primary targets? Or would they and Dauntless’s crew be more collateral damage of attempts to “stop” Black Jack?

  “Why don’t we know more about these people?” Rione complained, glaring at her data pad. She had been furiously tapping in search commands and now looked toward Lieutenant Iger’s image. “There’s nothing here about star systems beyond Sol except literally ancient summaries.”

  Iger made an apologetic gesture. “Everything for the last century has been focused on the Syndicate Worlds. Even before that, I would guess that acquiring new data about star systems so far distant from the Alliance was given a very low priority. They were a long way away. They didn’t matter.”

  “They matter,” Senator Suva said angrily, “if they act as some sort of police force in Sol Star System and threaten us!”

  “There is no record of that before this,” Senator Sakai mused, gazing at his own data pad. “These ships, it is like viewing an alternate version of what we have become. It is remarkable to see living history like this.”

  “I prefer my living history less well armed and less aggressive,” Geary replied.

  “I agree,” Sakai said. “The last visit here by an Alliance warship was over a century ago, but at that time and prior to that there is no record of encountering outer-star warships in Sol Star System.”

  “A vacuum of power?” Geary asked. “We weren’t here, so someone else came in?”

  “And someone else took advantage of their presence here to endanger us?” Rione made an angry gesture. “It’s not that simple. Not where Sol and Old Earth are concerned. They are supposed to be separate from politics. They are supposed to be kept free of involvement in disputes. I am very surprised that anyone made such a blatant move to claim some sort of authority here.”

  “The Alliance built a hypernet gate here,” Geary said.

  “Yes. Forty-five years ago,” Rione said, her eyes on her data pad again. “A serious investment of money and resources at a time when the Alliance did not have any of either to spare.”

  “Then why did the Alliance build it?” Geary asked.

  Apparently unaware of how everyone else was watching her, awaiting an answer, Rione shrugged. “From what I have been told, it was a political ploy. A desperate one, but judged worth trying as a means of possibly gaining external support agai
nst the Syndics and as a way to boost morale within the Alliance. Sol is a special place to humanity. The Alliance publicly proclaimed it was building the gate here to benefit Sol and to make it easier for humans to visit the Home of us all. Very altruistic. The actual intent of the hypernet gate was to symbolically tie Sol to the Alliance, even though no one said that, and symbolically tie the Alliance to Sol. The Syndics couldn’t play that game since we sat between them and Sol.”

  “Sol must have approved letting the gate be built,” Charban pointed out.

  “You don’t understand. Sol is still fragmented. There are dozens of different sovereign governments in this star system, and on Old Earth itself, legacies from ancient times. They get along now, having warred to exhaustion centuries ago, but they’re probably still debating whether or not to approve letting the Alliance build the gate here. The authorities at Old Earth are the voice of an organization built on the ashes of the last wars here, an organization designed to prevent the projection of power by any government in Sol Star System.” Rione stopped speaking, looking appalled, then slapped a palm against her forehead so hard that the sound of the gesture reverberated around the bridge. “Stupid! We should have realized this would happen!”

  “What do you mean?” Senator Sakai asked, while everyone else stared at Rione.

  “We caused this!” Rione said. “We built the hypernet gate as a symbol. That’s what it is, a symbol whose meaning could provoke others but bring us no certain benefit. Why are these outer-star warships here? Why do they claim to protect Sol Star System and Old Earth? Because the Alliance staked a symbolic claim that other star systems near here could not ignore. They are here because we built that gate even though we should have known that Sol could not stop anyone else from doing what we did, acting unilaterally in the supposed best interests of Sol.”