The Lost Fleet: Beyond the Frontier: Dreadnaught

by Jack Campbell

  “Meaning that neither the government nor headquarters knew what to do so they left you to deal with the hard choices. I am shocked. Shocked.”

  Geary nodded. “With all the focus on the aliens, and my plans to transit Syndic space as quickly as possible, which would hopefully avoid those situations, I haven’t tried to really analyze that problem. Our actions are going to be heavily dependent on the exact circumstances. Maybe our emissaries have some instructions about that particular question that they haven’t shared with us yet.”

  “Were they going to tell us before or after we open fire?” Desjani wondered.

  “I’ll ask. After we take care of business here.” Geary tapped an internal comm control, bringing up windows showing Rione and Charban. “Madam Emissary, General Charban, please contact the senior Syndic CEO in this star system and make whatever arrangements are necessary for our pickup of the Alliance POWs here. We’ll use our own shuttles to lift them off the planet. We won’t need any Syndic assets or assistance beyond making the former prisoners available and providing any relevant records on them.”

  “We’re on it, Admiral,” Charban announced as if he were still on active duty and working with Geary on a military operation. “The peace treaty obligates them to turn over the prisoners without hindrance, so there shouldn’t be any trouble.”

  Rione simply inclined her head toward him in wordless acceptance of the task, her eyes hooded.

  “Thank you,” Geary said. “Let me know if any problems do develop.”

  “Admiral,” the maneuvering watch called, “if you intend maintaining point one light speed, systems recommend the fleet come starboard one five degrees and down zero four degrees for an intercept with the second planet.”

  Geary checked the system recommendation himself, seeing the long, smooth curve of the fleet’s projected path arcing through the star system. They were intercepting a moving object, the inhabited planet, so the actual path they would have to take was much longer than a simple straight-line distance. “A bit less than six light hours to where we’ll intercept the planet in its orbit.”

  “Yes, sir. Two days, eleven hours’ travel time at point one light speed.”

  “All right.” He called the fleet. “All units, come starboard one five degrees and down zero degrees at time two one. Maintain current formation and current velocity.”

  Two and a half days’ travel time to the planet, maybe half a day around the planet while the fleet picked up the prisoners, then another two and half days back out to the jump point. Allow some time for unexpected delays. Call it six days. The government and headquarters didn’t want me to delay another two weeks, but their little rescue mission here has delayed our transit to alien space by about a week. Add in the transit times through Hasadan and the jump times to get to Dunai and back, and it totals a lot more than two weeks. At least we’re doing some good by picking up those prisoners.

  The images of the two emissaries were wearing poker faces when they called Geary back. It had been ten hours since the fleet arrived in Dunai, with forty hours’ travel time left to get to the primary planet. “You asked us to call you if any problems developed,” Rione said, displaying some of her old fire.

  “What problems do we have?”

  “Perhaps,” Charban suggested, “you should view the reply we received from the Syndic CEO in charge of this star system. Dunai is still nominally loyal to the Syndicate Worlds, by the way.”

  Another window popped open in front of Geary, and a moment later, the image of the Syndic CEO appeared, looking disturbingly like almost every other Syndic CEO he had ever seen. The CEOs weren’t actually cloned, and they had the usual physical variations between different men and women, but every one of them wore suits that seemed cut identically from the same material, all wore similar perfectly cut hair, and all of them had the same range of practiced and meaningless expressions. It was as if a wide variety of persons had been forced into molds that eliminated most of their individuality.

  The Syndic CEO flashed the standard and obviously insincere CEO smile that must require considerable practice to master. “We are happy to deal with Alliance forces operating under the treaty approved by the Syndicate Worlds. Since the prisoners have constituted a significant burden to our world, one we have gladly shouldered to ensure the prisoners had access to adequate housing, food, and medical care, we trust that the Alliance is prepared to compensate us for those expenses incurred by Dunai. We’re certain that the Alliance will not shirk its own obligations. Once we’ve agreed on the sum for compensation, we’ll discuss arrangements for the turnover. I’ve attached our accounting and a preliminary figure for payment as a starting point in our negotiations.”

  The window faded away, and Geary looked back at Rione. “How much?”

  She named a figure that made him stare in disbelief. “It’s a common Syndic negotiating tactic to open with something too one-sided to be acceptable, then bargain for a lesser deal,” Rione explained, as Charban listened silently. “He doesn’t expect us to agree to that, but he does think we’ll settle on some lower figure.”

  “He’s thinking wrong. Even if this fleet had access to funds like that, I wouldn’t agree to such a thing.”

  “Then we will inform the CEO of that,” Rione said, “and tell him there will be no negotiations for payment. However, he is very likely to continue to insist upon it since he holds the prisoners on his world.”

  “Despite what the treaty says.”

  “Yes.”

  “In that case,” Geary said, “you might remind him that I hold an entire fleet of warships in this star system.”

  Charban frowned slightly. “We need to be careful about implying a willingness to use force.”

  “I’m sure that two emissaries of the grand council of the Alliance are able to imply not only carefully and but also ably.”

  That made Charban’s frown take on a puzzled aspect, as if he wasn’t certain whether to be upset at Geary’s statement, but Rione smiled sardonically. “We’ll see what we can do, Admiral,” she said.

  Desjani waited to comment until the images of Charban and Rione disappeared, then a grunt of disbelief escaped her. “That CEO is shaking us down. The arrogant little bastard actually expects us to pay him for letting us have our people.” She turned a pleading look on Geary. “Now can we blow up something? Just to show him we mean business?”

  “Sorry,” he told her. “Not yet.”

  “Peace sucks,” Desjani grumbled.

  But her suggestion had gotten him thinking. “Which doesn’t mean we can’t demonstrate how we might blow up something, or a lot of somethings, if he keeps trying to impede our pickup of those personnel.”

  She raised an eyebrow at him. “Maybe a warning shot?”

  Geary paused. “More like a demonstration shot, hitting some worthless real estate.”

  “We need to hit something they care about.”

  “We can’t,” he insisted. “Not without a lot more provocation. I’ll have our emissaries inform that Syndic CEO that we’re conducting a weapons test and see if that helps get our point across.”

  “A weapons test. Aimed at nothing. But at least those two emissaries will be doing something to earn their keep,” Desjani said in a voice just loud enough for him to hear, looking seriously irritated as she kept a fixed stare on her display.

  She needed to be mollified, and there was one thing almost guaranteed to make Tanya Desjani happy. “Why don’t you pick out a target? I’ll let you know when to launch the rock.”

  “Just one rock?”

  He sighed. “All right. Two rocks.”

  “Three.”

  “Okay, three. But make sure your targets are nowhere near any Syndics.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Tanya . . .”

  “All right! But I’ll pick spots where plenty of Syndics can watch the fireworks and worry about our next volley coming down on them!”

  EIGHT

  ANOTHER twelve h
ours had passed. One of the moons orbiting a gas giant planet had three more craters, and Rione had a glint of anger in her eyes. “We have another reply from the Syndic CEO.”

  “And?”

  “I can let you watch if you have the stomach for it. But to sum up a long message, the CEO says he has regrets but is unable to comply with our requests until we have made mutually acceptable arrangements for compensation.” Rione’s lips moved in a humorless smile. “It appears that our weapons test wasn’t persuasive enough.”

  Geary closed his eyes, slowly counting to ten inside, then opened them again. “Doesn’t that make him in violation of the treaty?”

  She glowered though not at him. “Probably.”

  “Probably? What the hell does it take to violate the treaty?”

  “I don’t know! But whether this level of dispute is the sort of a matter that qualifies as a treaty violation is something that lawyers could dispute indefinitely.”

  Geary wondered just how stubborn and angry he looked because he knew that was how he felt. “We don’t have an indefinite period of time, and I’m damned if I’m going to leave the fates of those prisoners up to the arguments of lawyers.”

  He had forgotten that Desjani was still linked in until she spoke in a deceptively mild voice. “We may not have lots of time or lots of lawyers, but we’ve got a lot more rocks.”

  Instead of rejecting or ignoring Desjani’s words with disdain, Rione paused, her own expression still irate but also thoughtful. “Another demonstration might be a good idea, not because I think it will directly budge this CEO but because we need to find another way to put pressure on him. We need a demonstration that emphasizes to the population just how much their leader’s behavior is endangering them, so that the people of Dunai will insist upon an end to actions that are provoking us.”

  Desjani, looking inspired, held up one finger, looking at Geary rather than Rione. “Hold that.” She turned to address the combat systems watch-stander. “Lieutenant, you’ve heard of skip-shots with rocks?”

  “Yes, Captain. When some error or unexpected factor causes a kinetic projectile to skip through the upper atmosphere of a planet instead of diving down at its target.”

  “Right. Find out if we can do that on purpose, ensuring that the rock either burns up without hitting the surface or bounces back into space after a few skips. We want a deliberate miss that burns through atmosphere.”

  “A light show?” Geary asked Desjani, smiling.

  “A big light show,” she replied. “Let me use more than three rocks this time, and we can light up the sky on that CEO’s planet.”

  As usual, Rione didn’t address Desjani directly, instead speaking just to Geary. “An excellent idea. Accompany that show with a message broadcast to the system populace, a message from you, Admiral. I think the pressure those things generate on the CEO may produce the results we want.”

  “If it doesn’t,” Geary said, “I’ll drop a rock on his head and let the lawyers argue about whether that’s a violation of the treaty.”

  That earned him a wry smile from Rione. “I was hoping you’d be a moderating influence on your captain, but it appears that, instead, she is influencing you.”

  As Rione’s image vanished, Geary looked over to see Desjani beaming. “You know,” Desjani confided, “that’s the first thing that woman has ever said that I can honestly say I was happy to hear.”

  He didn’t answer, wondering why something about what Rione had just said felt important. His thoughts wandered for a moment, recalling his first meetings with Desjani, his impressions of her, his shock at the things she once accepted as a natural part of Alliance military operations . . . “That’s it.”

  Desjani gave him a questioning look, and he recognized that she had fallen silent when she realized he was lost in thought. She did that automatically these days, giving him time to work out things inside, and he rarely noticed it. “I assume you’re talking about something more important than my opinion of a politician,” Desjani said.

  “Thanks for giving me time to think. You always do that, and it helps a lot. No. I’m talking about a politician’s opinion of me.” Geary pointed at his display, where the primary inhabited world glowed. “That Syndic CEO. He knows he’s dealing with me. Not any other fleet officer. Me.”

  Her eyes lit with understanding. “The man who doesn’t bombard planets indiscriminately. Who follows the old concepts of honor. We know that word of your policies got around Syndic space pretty quickly.”

  “Yes. Mostly to our benefit during the war. But now this CEO thinks he can play games with us because I’ll be restrained and civilized.” Geary turned a grim look on her. “I wonder if his attitude would change if he had to deal with another Alliance fleet officer?”

  “One who’s a bit less civilized?” she asked.

  “Tanya, I don’t mean—”

  “I know exactly what you mean, and it’s all right, because I think you nailed what’s going on here.” Desjani frowned at him. “I can be very intimidating, but—”

  “I think the next message to that CEO needs to go out from the officer who has been delegated to deal with the POW issue, and you—”

  “But are you sure it should be me?” she asked, her voice sharpening. “I can’t always be your first choice for assignments.”

  “Good point.” Even though Tanya was very well qualified for the job, they couldn’t afford to have others think that she was receiving special treatment. He paused to think. “Tulev.”

  “Excellent,” Desjani approved. “If the Syndic files on Alliance personnel are any good at all, they’ll have Tulev listed as a survivor of Elyzia. That Syndic CEO will know he’s dealing with a man whose home world was bombarded into an uninhabitable ruin by the Syndics.”

  “I’ll call Tulev. You set up the light show. Between his message and your rocks, I think that CEO will rethink his attitude.”

  THE Alliance fleet was only thirty light minutes from the second planet when the light show began.

  “What do you think?” Desjani asked a bit smugly.

  “I don’t know what effect it’s having on the Syndics, but it’s certainly impressing me,” Geary replied. On a part of his display that had been set to show only visual light, the globe of the second planet hung like a marble mottled with white and blue on about a third of the face showing, the rest nightside dark spangled with lights from Syndic cities and towns. But those lights had been eclipsed by fiery streaks of brilliance slashing through the dark and on into the dayside, still so bright that they shone clearly against even the sunlit part of the planet.

  Tulev’s message would have reached that planet about half an hour before the aimed-to-miss barrage of kinetic projectiles. Tulev, his customary impassiveness even more evident, so that he seemed as emotionless as stone, had spoken in flat tones that somehow carried more menace than any anger or threatening voice would have. “Your leader is playing with your lives in an attempt to extort money from this fleet. I have been assigned the task of ensuring that all Alliance prisoners in this star system are liberated and taken aboard this fleet. I will carry out my orders by any means necessary and will not tolerate any delays or attempts to impose barriers. You have three hours to inform us of your readiness to peacefully transfer all Alliance prisoners to our custody without any preconditions or hindrances. If this deadline is not met, I will take necessary action. To the honor of our ancestors. Captain Tulev, out.”

  The fleet was already a lot closer to the planet, so the answer only took an hour. Geary was still on the bridge of Dauntless when both emissaries called.

  “He’s still holding out.”

  Geary took a moment before replying to Rione, making sure he had heard right. “The Syndic CEO for this star system is still trying to extort ransom from us?” For some reason, he felt a need to spell it out, so there would be no possible misinterpretation.

  “Yes. He’s actually quite defiant about it.” Next to Rione’s image, another window o
pened.

  In the recording of the transmission, the Syndic CEO now displayed an expression Geary had begun thinking of as Intimidating Frown since he had seen exactly the same look on numerous CEOs. “We expected better of Admiral Geary than transparent attempts to strike fear in the innocent populace of our world. These are not the negotiating tactics of civilized people, and surely the living stars look upon these actions with disfavor.”

  The CEO’s expression changed a bit, settling into what Geary thought of as Angry Frown. “We are not afraid of asserting our rights under the treaty by which the long and terrible war was finally brought to an end by the efforts of all our peoples. If necessary, we are prepared to defend ourselves by all available means. It is my responsibility to prevent any attacks or hostile landings upon our peaceful world.”

  Desjani made a gagging sound.

  Now the CEO adopted the Sad But Reasonable expression. “It would be unfortunate for anyone to be harmed because of a refusal to discuss realistic compensation. Money is not more important than lives. I await word of your willingness to turn aside from force and embrace negotiation to find a mutually agreeable solution to our disagreements.”

  As the CEO’s image blanked, Geary stared at where it had been, not trusting himself to speak for a moment.

  “Okay,” Desjani said in a calm voice, “now I only need one rock. And the coordinates of that scum’s location.”

  “He’s not showing any signs of bending.” General Charban stated the obvious. “We need more leverage. Something to convince him that we do mean business. Another, bigger, demonstration perhaps.”

  Desjani, unseen by Charban, rolled her eyes, but her voice was loud enough for the emissaries to easily hear. “They’re still gaming us because those Syndics think the humanitarian and honorable Black Jack won’t blow them to hell. They’ll keep stalling, keep demanding, because no matter what we do they’ll convince themselves that it’s a bluff.”