“Varandal is at routine readiness status four,” Lieutenant Yuon reported. “No indications of unusual activity anywhere in the star system.”
“Very well,” Tanya Desjani said.
“Disappointed?” Geary asked.
“A little,” she said. “I’m sort of used to crises when arriving at a star.” She glanced at him. “It didn’t used to be that way when arriving in Alliance star systems, but nowadays it’s pretty much everywhere.”
“You say that like it’s my fault,” Geary said.
“Did I?”
He smiled, glad Tanya had sensed his mood and lifted it a little. “I’d better send my status report out to everyone so they know that things are calm elsewhere.”
The report had been crafted to both reassure and inform the rest of the fleet. Everything was calm at Unity (sort of). A warning that some courier ship–sized unarmed dark ships might still be active. About three more months at Varandal to refit and repair, which also meant three months to allow sailors to visit homes at other stars that they might not have seen for some time. Then another mission, details to be provided later. Unstated, but clear enough from the way he’d phrased everything, was the news that the Alliance government had not (yet) collapsed, and that he had not (as some in the fleet still hoped) taken control of the government. “I am confident that those responsible for the deaths of our comrades at Unity Alternate and other stars will be held accountable for their crimes,” Geary had told the rest of the fleet, regretting that he couldn’t offer any examples as of yet.
He’d barely sent it off, and was preparing to send a specific greeting to Admiral Timbale, grateful that he’d be able to depend on Timbale’s support, when Desjani made an angry noise. “What is it?” he asked.
“Did you send your message to Timbale yet?”
“I was about to. Why?”
“He’s not in charge of Varandal anymore.”
SEVEN
“WHAT?” She’d already highlighted a message for him. Dated only two days ago, it contained Timbale’s official relinquishing of command, and the official assumption of the command at Varandal by Admiral Sharon Barnhorst. “Baxter and Rojo got the jump on me here. They must have decided Timbale was too willing to work with me. Do you know anything about Admiral Barnhorst?”
“Do you want to hear it?” Tanya asked.
“I need to hear it.”
“Barricade Barnhorst has a reputation for being one hundred percent by the book. As in, she always follows procedures, step-by-step, and won’t do anything that isn’t plainly spelled out in regulations or orders. Her nickname refers to the way she prevents anything useful from happening.”
“How’d she make admiral?” Geary asked, trying not to sound as upset as he was.
“She’s masterful at managing upward. Her bosses think she’s amazing. Her subordinates, not so much.” Desjani grimaced. “Oh, hell.”
He saw the message almost as soon as she had. “Barnhorst has put a hold on all repair activity pending review?” Geary tamped down his anger. “We’ll see about that.”
He’d have to wait until Dauntless reached Ambaru Station, the primary orbiting facility at Varandal, where first Admiral Timbale and now Admiral Barnhorst had their headquarters. But once he got close enough to shuttle over, he didn’t intend to waste any time.
* * *
IN person, Admiral Barnhorst had the self-assurance of a large boulder blocking a road, oblivious to backed-up traffic and resisting any attempt to move her aside, depending on allies like mass and gravity to frustrate any attempt to get things moving. “I have responsibilities, Admiral Geary. I will carry them out.”
It’d be so easy to get angry with her, to explode at the bland assurance. But he held his temper, knowing that was one of the approaches she expected him to take, instead pointing to his orders displayed on his comm pad. “I sent these on ahead. I’m presenting them to you now so you are officially in receipt of these orders just as I am. I am authorized to take all necessary actions to ensure the orders given to me are carried out, and my orders come from the Senate.”
Barnhorst glanced at the orders, seemingly unimpressed. “I’ll take a look at them.”
“No, Admiral,” Geary said. “You will read them right now. Because if you don’t, these orders authorize me to relieve you of command as a hindrance to carrying out my responsibilities. Their wording is clear on that.”
Admiral Barnhorst hesitated only a moment. “That’s your interpretation of those orders. I don’t agree with that interpretation of the wording.”
“So you have read these orders.” He made it a statement, not a question. He had learned a few things from Victoria Rione, including how to trick people into telling you things they didn’t want you to know. “Admiral, since you have received and read these orders, if repair work on my ships has not recommenced within eight hours at every fleet shipyard in Varandal, I will send a courier ship to Unity requesting that you be immediately relieved of command and court-martialed for deliberately ignoring an order from the Alliance Senate.”
“I’ll consider your request,” Admiral Barnhorst said in a cold voice.
“Eight hours, Admiral.”
Geary sent some orders as the shuttle was carrying him back to Dauntless. By the time he disembarked onto Dauntless, a courier ship on standby had lit off propulsion and was headed for a position near the hypernet gate to await further orders. Once he was in his stateroom, he called Captain Smythe. “I gave Admiral Barnhorst eight hours to get repair work restarted. That was half an hour ago. Let me know if and when work starts again.”
Smythe nodded, eyeing Geary. “If they prepare to get going again, we’ll see signs of it hours before the work actually starts. I’ll notify you of any indications like that. I have to warn you that I don’t expect Barnhorst to move.”
“Oh, she’ll move,” he said. “One way or another.”
Captain Desjani had followed him to his stateroom, and shook her head as the call ended. “There are people who think you’re a pushover, Admiral. Because you’re not a hard-ass, or a screamer. I always warn them not to bet their career on that assumption.”
He gave her a look. “You’re hoping Barnhorst doesn’t move, aren’t you?”
“Yes, Admiral, I am. And if you want my honest assessment, she won’t move.”
As the last of the eight hours crawled by, Geary could tell that both Smythe’s and Desjani’s estimates had been correct. There wasn’t any sign that work was about to start again. But he’d said eight hours, so he waited.
And at exactly eight hours he transmitted a message packet to the courier ship. It would take a few hours for the ship to receive that packet, but then it would enter the hypernet for Unity.
That left him with close to two weeks to wait for the courier to reach Unity, transmit its message packet to the primary world, wait for a response, and take the hypernet back. For a journey covering scores of light years, that was remarkably fast. But it still felt extremely slow.
He called Smythe in for a personal one-on-one, wanting to be sure work could restart quickly as soon as the courier returned from Unity.
“Repairs were going well,” Captain Smythe said as he took a seat opposite Geary in the stateroom aboard Dauntless. The officer in charge of the fleet’s repair ships rarely looked worried, instead usually appearing like a cat who knew a secret no one else was aware of. From what Geary had been able to learn, Smythe did in fact have more than a few secrets involving creative use of official funds. But he more than made up for that by being extremely good at meeting the fleet’s needs. “The shipyards were grateful for the work,” Smythe continued, “having heard their share of horror stories about downsizing afflicting other star systems that once heavily depended on military contracts. They are very much in your corner when it comes to wanting Barnhorst gone. But, even if that is achieved, the
problem will be, as always, how to pay for the repairs. We’re pretty much out of options. Well, legal options, that is.”
“Money is on the way,” Geary said.
“Admiral, with all due respect, I’ve heard that line many times.” Smythe paused, looking thoughtful. “I’ve even used it myself on occasion.”
“I can imagine,” Geary said. “You’ve seen my orders from the Senate. This is the annex concerning funding.”
“I can understand why you didn’t send that to everyone in the fleet.” Smythe read the annex, a smile growing. “I can do a lot with this.”
Geary nodded, smiling as well. “You do realize that Lieutenant Jamenson will inform me of any . . . inappropriate draws on that funding?”
“Of course.” Smythe sat back, his smile still in place. “I never should have told you about Jamenson. But a man can still dream!”
“Can we get all of the ships we need fully ready in three months?”
“Three months.” Smythe rubbed his beard, thinking. “If Admiral Barnhorst is removed as an obstacle within another week or so, maybe. To give you a firm answer, I have to ask you a question. Which ships do we need to be fully ready in three months?”
Geary frowned, realizing that answering that question would require another meeting.
* * *
THE conference room could seem huge at times when the meeting software showed the table as big enough to hold hundreds of officers, their virtual presences not even rubbing elbows with each other. But this meeting was much smaller, small enough that everyone could be present in person.
Geary himself at the head of the table, Tanya Desjani seated to his left. On his right sat Captain Duellos. Occupying other seats were Captain Armus, Captain Badaya, Geary’s grandniece Captain Jane Geary, Captain Smythe, Colonel Rico, and Master Chief Gioninni. The small group made far more obvious, and painful, the lack of Captain Tulev’s presence.
“You all know what our orders are,” Geary began. “What I want from you is advice on what we should take and any special concerns I need to be aware of. How big a force do we need to ensure the success of our mission?”
“How big a force can we take?” Duellos asked, leaning back casually. “How much needs to be left to defend the Alliance?”
“I was told to take as much as I needed,” Geary said. “Other warships dispersed around the Alliance are supposed to handle any problems that come up while we’re gone. Our priority is to ensure the emissary ship gets safely to Dancer space.”
“In that case, we should take every battle cruiser,” Captain Badaya said.
“Bluntly said, but accurate,” Duellos agreed. “We’ll need the maneuverability of the battle cruisers to deal with the enigmas when we travel through their space to get to the Dancers. We can’t count on the Syndics and rebellious star systems in that region to have held the enigmas completely in check.”
“The Syndics secretly fought the enigmas for decades without holding them in check,” Badaya scoffed. “I doubt they’re doing any better now. But those rebellious friends of ours at Midway are probably doing all right.”
Captain Smythe seemed to be vying with Duellos for most relaxed posture. “If you’re going out that far, Admiral, you should have four to six fast fleet auxiliaries, at a minimum.”
“They’re not exactly fast,” Badaya grumbled.
“No, but they are necessary,” Smythe said. “You have eight as of now. I’d advise taking them all.”
Captain Armus, still as steady, slow-moving, and reliable as the drift of continents, nodded. “That means we need battleships. To protect the auxiliaries, as well as serving as mobile bastions for the rest of the fleet.”
“At least four divisions of battleships,” Jane Geary said.
“At least,” Armus said.
“All of which will slow us down,” Captain Badaya said, as tactless as ever.
A brief silence fell. It was the old dilemma. Battle cruisers were fast and agile, but couldn’t take the punishment that battleships could, and didn’t have firepower to match that of the battleships. But battleships were slower to accelerate or brake their velocity, moving ponderously compared to the battle cruisers. Both had important roles, but both came with trade-offs. And the auxiliaries, relatively slow, essentially unarmed, were immensely valuable for repairing battle damage and replenishing weapons, but a worrisome Achilles’ heel in any battle.
Captain Smythe broke the silence. “This ship we’re going to escort to Dancer space. It’s a modified passenger liner?”
“Yes,” Geary said. “That’s about all I know about it.”
“Unless they strap on a lot of extra propulsion,” Smythe said, “that passenger liner is going to be about as maneuverable as one of the fast fleet auxiliaries. Liners aren’t as slow as civilian freighters, but they’re not built to handle like warships. And there’s no choice about that ship coming along.”
Jane Geary nodded quickly. “Yes. No matter what else, we’ll have that ship along and need to protect it.”
“That is battleship work,” Duellos said. “And if we need to have battleships along to protect that ship, we might as well have the auxiliaries Captain Smythe recommends as well.”
Captain Desjani looked at Geary. “This can’t be a fast expeditionary force of cruisers and battle cruisers. We need a full, well-rounded fleet.”
“If we’re trying to avoid fighting the enigmas,” Captain Jane Geary added, “having as many battleships as possible along with us is most likely to cause the enigmas to stay at arm’s length rather than try closing with us to fight. Their advantages in maneuverability don’t matter if we’re not trying to force an engagement and they don’t dare get too close to us.”
“That might be true in Syndic space as well,” Duellos said. “They won’t force a fight if we’ve got a wall of battleships.”
“The Syndics figured out how to destroy Orion,” Desjani said, her voice harsh. “We can’t count on them being overawed.”
After a brief, uncomfortable pause, Duellos inclined his head apologetically toward Desjani. “An important event I should have taken into account.”
“What about Marines?” Captain Badaya said, his social ineptness for once offering a welcome change of topic. “How many will we have? Just the colonel’s unit?”
“I haven’t received any information yet regarding Marine reinforcements,” Colonel Rico said. “Given the mission, a large Marine force might be superfluous, though. There aren’t supposed to be any planetary actions or major space boarding operations.”
“True enough,” Badaya said. “But it’s a bad idea to base your force on what you expect to need when you don’t know what to expect.”
Desjani stared at Badaya, clearly surprised at hearing good advice from him. “Captain Badaya is right,” she said, pausing afterwards as if shocked by her words. “We can put together warship groupings to handle various threats, but if it’s something only Marines can handle we can’t substitute sailors for them.”
“That’s usually not a good idea,” Colonel Rico said with absolute seriousness. He seemed surprised when the others present laughed.
“General Carabali and the ground forces general I talked to at Unity seemed to think the Marines specially assigned there would be released before much longer,” Geary said. “Hopefully we’ll hear something about that soon. We have no idea what conditions will be like at some of the Syndic and former Syndic star systems we have to go through, or what’s been happening at Midway. I’d prefer to have enough Marines along to handle anything we run into.”
“Admiral,” Master Chief Gioninni said, “there’s something else we should be taking into consideration. A lot of enlistments are coming to an end. I think a healthy percentage of those sailors will reenlist, now that the odds of surviving an enlistment have improved quite a bit, and what with the job situations they’re li
kely to find at home. But it’s safe to say up to a third of the fleet’s personnel may have to be replaced by new recruits or transfers from elsewhere in the Alliance.”
Captain Armus made a face. “That’s a very important point, Master Chief. We’re going to be dealing with a lot of new sailors who’ll need more training and lack experience.”
“Not to mention the officers who may decide to leave,” Desjani said.
She didn’t look at Duellos, but he nodded to her as if those words had been addressed to him. “Officers may have other priorities to deal with as well,” he said.
“Not you, surely?” Badaya asked Duellos.
Duellos shrugged. “I have a family.”
“Oh. Of course.”
“Speaking of families,” Geary said, “we also need to factor getting everyone a chance at enough leave for a decent visit home.”
“You still want us to work with up to one month authorized for each individual?” Armus asked. “That’ll complicate preparations a lot.”
“A lot of these sailors haven’t had decent leave for a long time,” Duellos said.
“I want each of you to also try to get some time home,” Geary said.
“You should mention the Dancer thing,” Desjani said.
“Right.” He tried not to look as exasperated as he felt. “At Unity, and apparently elsewhere in Alliance space, there are fringe elements that think the Dancers are hostile. It’s important we watch for that among our own crews and any new recruits coming in.”
“Hostile?” Badaya asked. “In the name of my ancestors, why?”
“They’re ugly,” Desjani said.
It was a bit painful, Geary thought, to see the surprise created by Desjani’s answer, and the understanding that appeared on everyone’s faces as they realized what she meant. “It’s stupid,” he said. “But people are like that. And some people are willing to take serious measures to, um, defend us against the Dancers.”
Boundless Page 14
