Leviathan

Eleven

“Who is back?” Geary roared with what he thought was an immense amount of patience. Only the fact that the caller sounded surprised rather than scared, which is what he would have expected if those who were back were the dark ships, kept him from bolting for the bridge without waiting for further explanation.

“The Dancers, sir. A lot of them.”

“The Dancers?” That was the last thing he had expected to hear. Geary called up the display in his stateroom and stared at the image before him.

Forty Dancer ships had arrived in Varandal. Arrived at the jump point from Bhavan. The perfect ovoids of the Dancer ships gleamed against the black backdrop of space. They were arranged in an intricate formation that made them resemble a complex necklace of immense pearls speeding through the emptiness with perfectly coordinated movements.

Geary reached the bridge of Dauntless within a few minutes. “How the hell did the Dancers get to Bhavan?” he demanded.

Tanya Desjani had beaten him to the bridge. “You’re not going to like the answer.”

General Charban was already there as well. He turned a bland look on Geary, as if determined to no longer be fazed by anything the Dancers did. “According to your experts, Admiral, they didn’t come from Bhavan.”

“They arrived at the jump point from Bhavan,” Geary insisted.

Charban indicated Lieutenant Castries, who looked uncomfortable. “Admiral,” she said, “we got a weird signature when the Dancers left jump.”

“A weird signature?” Geary pressed both hands against his forehead. “What does that mean?”

“Sir, when ships leave jump, they always emit a small burst of energy. It’s insignificant, and no one really knows what causes it, so no one worries about it.”

“Jaylen Cresida speculated that it might be caused by some sort of friction while traveling through jump space,” Desjani said, seated and with her chin resting in one palm. “As the lieutenant says, it’s so small an effect that it just gets noted and ignored.”

Geary nodded impatiently. “All right. I remember that. There was a research project before… before Grendel. A ship I was on assisted the research. I never heard any results from it, though.”

Lieutenant Castries indicated her display. “Our systems alerted us that when the Dancers left jump, the energy signature they gave off was much stronger than it should be and also had some unusual density readings.”

“Put it on my display,” Geary ordered, sitting down and glaring at the data as it sprang to life before him. “What the hell is that?”

“We… don’t know, sir.”

“The Dancer ships haven’t shown that kind of energy signature before when leaving jump?”

“No, sir.”

Charban cleared his throat. “Admiral, the Dancers insisted on going to Old Earth, so they could return the body of a human explorer who had been involved in early research into jump drives centuries ago. Apparently, he was in jump space for a very long time and did not come out until somewhere in the Dancer-occupied region of the galaxy.”

“I’m not likely to forget that,” Geary said. Being trapped in jump space was perhaps the worst nightmare scenario for space travelers. The thought of that ancient astronaut stuck in jump space until he died had rattled everyone who heard of it. “Hold on. Are you saying the Dancers might have jumped to Varandal not from Bhavan but all the way from their own territory? They would have been in jump space for months. No one could handle that.”

“No human could handle that,” Desjani corrected him.

Geary looked at her. “I had wondered what jump space felt like for the Dancers. Is there any other explanation for their getting here?”

“They could have jumped star by star all the way from the region of space they occupy,” she said. “But that many jumps and transiting that many star systems would have taken so long that they would have had to have started about a year ago.”

“Could they have figured out how to use the Syndic hypernet? Could they have gotten a Syndic key?”

“Yes, sir, but then why did they jump here from Bhavan rather than from Atalia or some other star on the Syndic side of things?”

Geary looked back at Castries. “Exactly how long would a single jump all the way from Dancer space take?”

Lieutenant Castries made a helpless gesture. “Sir, we don’t know. All we can do is extrapolate from the jumps we make from star to adjacent star, but we don’t know if there is a straight correlation between distances in our universe and distances in jump space, or what happens when you jump to a star much farther off than the ones nearest to the jump point you used.”

“Can we even detect whether jump points can reach those more distant stars?” Desjani asked.

“I’ll see what I can find out, Captain,” Castries said. “But there’s nothing in our navigation systems that would indicate we can do that.”

“But we haven’t been looking for it, have we?” Desjani said.

“No, Captain. I don’t know if we know how to look for something like that.”

“Forty ships,” Geary said, focusing back on practical issues. “General Charban, we need to know why they are here, how they got here, why they are here, what they want, and why they are here.”

“In that order?” Charban asked.

“Yes. Get me answers, General. The Dancers pointed us toward Unity Alternate. Some of them left in a rush. Now this much larger group of their ships has appeared without warning, apparently using jump drives in ways we can’t. We need to know what game they are playing and whether they consider us teammates in that game or part of the playing equipment.”

“Admiral,” Charban said, “we’ve been trying to figure those things out since we first met the Dancers.”

“Get that green-haired girl,” Desjani suggested. “You know, the one who spots things no one else does. Maybe she can help some more with figuring out the Dancers.”

“Lieutenant Jamenson?” Geary asked. “That’s not a bad idea. General, we need to leave Varandal within a few days on an urgent mission. I can’t leave Varandal with forty alien ships here. There’s a very urgent need for answers.”

“I will try,” Charban said.

It took some work to pry Lieutenant Jamenson loose from Captain Smythe this time. Smythe, dealing with the mountain of work required to get the fleet out of Varandal in a few days’ time, did not want to give up his most valuable staff officer. Geary, not wanting to alienate a subordinate as capable as Smythe, was reluctant to simply order the action. “You do realize, Captain, that if I don’t have Lieutenant Jamenson’s help in understanding why the Dancers are here, the fleet may not be able to leave as intended, and all of the work you are doing would be wasted?”

Smythe gave in.

As soon as he heard she was aboard, Geary went to the special compartment set aside for communicating with the Dancers. The fleet’s system security personnel had been horrified when it was discovered that Dancer software could modify itself to work with human hardware, leading to an ironclad dictate that the Dancer software had to be kept on gear physically separated from other equipment.

Lieutenant Jamenson was there, seated at the long table holding the special comm gear, as were General Charban and Tanya Desjani. “How does it look?” Geary asked. “Ever since they arrived in this star system, the Dancers have been heading toward Dauntless at point two light. They’re almost on top of us now.”

“Fortunately,” Desjani added, “they haven’t shown any signs of strengthening shields or powering up weapons. Having a bunch of alien ships charging on an intercept for my ship does worry me, though.”

“What have they told us?” Geary demanded.

Charban sighed heavily enough to have put out the candles on a birthday cake. “There is no indication of hostile intent. As usual, they sound friendly. The Dancers sent us a long message that translated as ‘hello, it’s nice to be here, how are you?’ I asked them why they were here. The brief response said ‘we are on a mission.’ What mission? An ‘important mission.’ Admiral, why don’t you shoot me and put me out of my misery?”

Desjani was shaking her head. “Why would they go to the trouble to come here, then not talk to us in any meaningful way?”

A long silence followed her question.

Lieutenant Jamenson had been gazing at the comm gear and now asked General Charban about it. “This shows us the translations of what the Dancers have said? In human words? Can I use this to hear the original messages they send?”

“The original messages?” Charban asked. “You mean, in Dancer language? Yes, you can do that. We used to listen to them as well as the translations, but we stopped because it didn’t seem to help at all. Why?”

“I don’t know. Maybe it’s not important. But it occurred to me that I had never heard a raw Dancer message. Since it’s something I haven’t tried, and everything we have tried hasn’t helped…”

“That makes at least as much sense as anything else about the Dancers,” Charban said. “I will warn you that some of the sounds the Dancers make probably could not be rendered by humans. Here. See this command that says ‘origin’? That means the same as original. And this command will direct the sound to you. That brings up a window with volume controls and that sort of thing.”

“Thank you, General.”

As Jamenson leaned close to the equipment, listening intently, Charban looked back at Geary. “I asked how the Dancers had gotten here. The reply was ‘we traveled.’ How did you travel? ‘By ship.’”

“They have to be messing with us,” Desjani said. “They’re on those ships laughing as they think about us trying to understand those messages.”

“What does it sound like when a Dancer laughs?” Geary wondered, thinking of those wolf-spider faces. “Did you ask them about Unity Alternate?”

“I asked them about the many stars,” Charban said. “They said, ‘are you watching?’ I said yes. They said ‘good.’”

The resulting extended silence was broken by Jamenson. “They sound different,” she said, not like someone who has discovered something but as if she had no idea what she had found.

“What sounds different?” Charban asked her.

“The Dancer messages.” Jamenson turned a puzzled look on the other three. “When I listen to the first message they send us each time, when they start a conversation, it’s sort of long, and it sounds… it sounds sort of musical.”

“The sounds used in the Dancer language—” Charban began.

“No, General. Excuse me. It’s not that. Those opening messages have a sort of bounce to them, a feeling of…” Jamenson struggled for the right word. “Of someone saying a song.”

“Or a poem?” Desjani asked.

“Maybe, Captain. But then after we answer, they answer, and their messages are, um, flat.”

“Flat?” Geary asked.

“Yes, sir. Oh, listen for yourselves. You’ll see.”

Charban, not bothering to hide his skepticism, leaned over and tapped a command. “Go ahead and play them. We’ll all hear now.”

Geary concentrated as the first Dancer message played back, the sounds strange to human throats echoing softly in the room. “You’re right, Lieutenant. There is a sort of bounce to it. Like a…”

“A spoken-word musical instrument?” Desjani said, intrigued.

“And then,” Jamenson said, “here’s their response to our reply.”

The same sort of sounds could be heard, but this time even though they sounded the same, they felt different. “Flat,” Geary said. “I see what you mean, Lieutenant. But what does that mean?”

Charban was frowning in thought. “If they sang to us to start a conversation… there are animals that do that, right?”

“Birds,” Desjani said. “Insects, some mammals, those things on that planet in Kostel Star System. They sing to identify each other, to pass information, for mating—”

“I sincerely hope that’s not why the Dancers would be singing to us,” Charban said.

“Could they be songs?” Jamenson asked. “Songs without music?” She played one of the opening messages again.

Geary listened as the strange tones of Dancer speech once more filled the conference room, the pitch of the words merging, blending, and soaring. “It must mean something. Something that the Dancers’ own translation software isn’t picking up.”

“Why wouldn’t the Dancer software reflect it if it was important?” Desjani asked. “Because it seemed obvious to them?” she answered herself.

“Maybe,” Charban said, his expression shifting rapidly. “We do that all the time, assuming that something very basic doesn’t have to be explained because it is so basic that we believe everyone will just know about it. Are they… ? Could the Dancers be wanting us to sing back to them?”

“Like birds,” Jamenson said. “As the Captain said. One gives a call, and the other responds, so they know who each other is, and then they sing back and forth. But if you don’t respond with a song or a whistle, they don’t respond the same way.”

“That is not a bird,” Desjani said, pointing to the image of a Dancer.

“But what if that’s the problem, Captain? What if we’re looking at them and thinking ‘spider,’ and ‘wolf,’ and ‘yuck,’ because that’s what they look like to us? And we’re still subconsciously basing our assumptions about how they act and talk by how they look to us? But why should they have patterns of behavior that match the images we’re seeing? They’re alien.”

Charban was shaking his head in obvious dismay. “No matter how hard I tried, I kept seeing those images. You are absolutely right, Lieutenant. If the Dancers had looked catlike, I would have assumed they thought and acted and communicated like cats. And if instead they thought like horses, it would have messed everything up.”

“They want us to sing to them?” Desjani asked skeptically. “But there’s no music.”

“We can try,” Lieutenant Jamenson said. “I mean, not really a song maybe, but cast a message with rhythm and scales and—”

“Patterns,” Charban said. “That’s what songs do. They establish patterns of sound, patterns of words. Music. That’s described in terms of mathematics and proportions between scales.”

“Poems do patterns as well, right?” Jamenson added. “Some poems, anyway.”

“And we know how important patterns are to the Dancers! Of course their methods of communication would reflect that! Maybe it’s a sort of verbal handshake! ‘Hi, I’m intelligent and want to talk about intelligent things!’ ‘Hi, I am also intelligent and want to talk about intelligent things, too!’ We have to try this. Do you have any singers in your fleet, Admiral?” Charban asked.

Geary looked at Desjani, who made the universal human gesture of ignorance. “There must be some,” she said. “None of my officers, judging from their efforts during our occasional karaoke nights.”

“I didn’t know you had karaoke nights on Dauntless,” Geary said.

“If you heard my lieutenants and ensigns trying to sing, you’d know why it’s been a while since we held one,” Desjani said. “You can send out a message to all of the ships in the fleet, and I can have my crew checked to see if any claim singing talent—”

“I’d prefer not to spend a long time searching for singers before we can test this idea,” Geary said.

“Please don’t look at me,” Jamenson said. “If you put enough whiskey down me, I sometimes try to sing, but it’s the sort of sounds that would make any self-respecting alien within a hundred light-years run for home. How about poets? Maybe poems would work. Lieutenant Iger does haiku.”

Everyone looked at her.

“Lieutenant Iger does haiku?” Geary finally asked. Somehow, the image of the serious, straightforward intelligence officer didn’t fit such a thing.

“Yes, sir. That’s a kind of poem. They’re good,” Jamenson added. “Lieutenant Iger’s haiku, I mean. He really has a poetic soul. I think.”

“Lieutenant Iger?” Desjani asked in disbelieving tones.

“Yes, Captain.”

“Fine.” Desjani sighed. “Admiral, I recommend we get our intelligence officer up here to see if he can craft lovely poems for the singing spider wolves.”

Summoned on the double, Lieutenant Iger showed up at the conference room slightly out of breath. His eyes first fell upon Lieutenant Jamenson and her bright green hair, producing a reflexive smile that vanished as soon as Iger realized who else was present. Turning his usual sober and studious expression on Geary, Iger saluted. “You sent for me, sir?”

“That’s right,” Geary said, pointing to General Charban. “We need you to sit down with the general and write a poem for the Dancers.”

Iger blinked before managing to respond. “Sir?”

“Sit down with General Charban and write a poem to the Dancers,” Geary repeated. “What are the types of poems that you’re skilled at? Haiku? One of those.”

“For the Dancers?” Iger flushed slightly. “Admiral, my… hobby… is just a pastime. I’m not any good at it.”

“Lieutenant Jamenson says you are.”

Iger jerked with surprise and glanced at Jamenson. “She did? I mean… yes, sir. I’ll try, sir. A poem for the Dancers?”

“General Charban and Lieutenant Jamenson will explain,” Geary said, waving Iger in their direction.

He and Desjani stood watching as Lieutenants Iger and Jamenson huddled with Charban. “Who would have guessed that Iger had an, um, poetic soul?” Desjani murmured to Geary.

“I have a feeling that Lieutenant Jamenson may have awakened that particular part of Lieutenant Iger’s soul,” Geary commented dryly.

“Well, yeah, that’s what women do. We take rough objects and polish them up a bit. What if this doesn’t work, Admiral?”

“Then we’re no worse off than we were before.”

Lieutenant Iger was sitting, looking distressed and running one hand through his hair, while Lieutenant Jamenson spoke to him in a low voice, her expression encouraging. General Charban had leaned back and was pretending not to be aware of what the lieutenants were doing.

Finally, Iger stood up. “Admiral, I think this will do to convey the message General Charban wants to send. Ummm…

“Dark is this winter,

“Come now our friends from far stars,

“What do they seek here?”

Lieutenant Jamenson beamed at Iger with what seemed to Geary to be possessive pride, General Charban nodded approvingly, and even Tanya Desjani smiled. “Why the reference to winter?” Geary asked.

“It’s traditional in haiku, sir,” Iger explained. “There’s often a seasonal reference, and I thought—”

“That’s fine. I just wondered. Send it,” Geary said.

Charban poked the haiku into the transmitter, then everyone waited. “If they want to respond,” Charban said, “they’ll usually answer very quickly, and by now those Dancer ships are only a couple of light-minutes from this ship, so there shouldn’t be any major comm delays caused by distance.”

An alert tone sounded. Charban slapped the control, reading intently. He smiled, then sighed, then lowered his head to the table as if immensely tired.

“What’s wrong?” Geary demanded.

“Do you have any idea how much sleep and how much hair I have lost trying to figure out how to communicate better with the Dancers?” Charban said, his voice partly muffled against the table’s surface. He sat up, sighed again, then read. “Here’s the reply from the Dancers—

“Now we speak clearly,

“As one to one, side by side,

“To mend the pattern.”

Charban shook his head, looking dejected. “I feel like such an idiot.”

“No one else thought of it until now,” Geary said. “Lieutenant Jamenson, I’m going to get you promoted if it kills me.”

“Here’s the next message,” Jamenson said, looking abashed, as another tone sounded.

Charban read it out loud at once this time.

“Cold minds must be stopped,

“This mistake is an old one,

“We fight beside you.”

“The meaning of that is very clear,” Iger said, sounding surprised.

“They’re here to help us fight the dark ships,” Geary said. “I can’t believe that all this time they were waiting for us to sing back at them.”

“It must be how they regard serious talk,” Charban said. “As long as we avoided using any sort of rhythmic patterns in our speech, we must have sounded to them as if we didn’t want to talk about anything important. We kept giving them baby speech, and they kept responding in kind.”

“Find out what they regard as fighting beside us,” Geary ordered. “Make the questions as poetical as you want, but I need to know if that means they’re taking orders from me, or if they’re planning on operating independently on the same battlefield. They need to know that we’re leaving in a few days for Unity Alternate. Also, see if you can find out whether they did jump here from somewhere in Dancer-controlled space.”

“I have a list a kilometer long of things we need to get answers to from the Dancers,” Charban said. “But I will give priority to those. What do you think of ‘this mistake is an old one’?”

“We’re not the first species to try to outsource responsibility for killing,” Desjani said. “Apparently that can produce results bad enough that the Dancers want to help us stop humanity’s efforts in that direction.”

“Did someone among the Dancers do it?” Geary wondered. “Put AIs in complete control of weapons?”

“They are natural engineers,” Charban noted. “And you know engineers. Wouldn’t it be cool if we could build this? Let’s try! The awesomeness of building it fills their imaginations, and as a result, the question of whether or not building it would be a good idea doesn’t always get asked.”

“In that respect, they may be very much like us,” Geary agreed. “Lieutenant Iger, you are to work directly with General Charban and Lieutenant Jamenson to facilitate communications with the Dancers. That task takes priority over any other assignment.”

“Yes, sir.” Iger did not appear to be too put out at the prospect of working closely with Jamenson for an indefinite period. “My chiefs can run my intelligence section for a while and will let me know if they discover anything.”

Geary and Desjani left the other three, walking through the passageways of the battle cruiser, Desjani looking around in a way that conveyed concern. “They’re going to target Dauntless again,” she said to Geary.

“There’s no doubt of that. Our goal is to hit their base while most or all of the dark ships are away,” Geary reminded her. “We knock out their support structure, and, in time, they’ll run low enough on fuel cells and expendable munitions for us to be able to take them down.”

“And if a lot of the dark ships are there when we arrive?” Desjani asked. “Forty Dancer ships are welcome reinforcements, but they’re not enough to even the odds.”

“That’s an unusually cautious attitude for you,” he commented.

“I’ve got a bad feeling.” She frowned at the deck, causing some passing sailors to hastily check the deck for any signs of trash or other problems. “Like before we went to Prime with Bloch in command.”

“You think we’re running into an ambush?” Geary asked.

“I don’t know. But we have to try this, don’t we? There’s no telling where those dark ships might hit next. Time is not on our side.”

He had just reached his stateroom when Charban called, looking unusually triumphant. “The Dancers will come to Unity Alternate with us. They feel that they will be needed and that destroying the ‘cold minds’ is too important a task to risk an unsuccessful mission.”

“Will the Dancers operate under my command?” Geary asked.

“No. They want to be free to operate independently there.”

It was Geary’s turn to sigh. “I can’t make them follow my orders. Those forty Dancer ships could be enormously useful anyway if any dark ships are defending their base. And if they come with us, I won’t have to explain leaving an alien armada at Varandal while I take my fleet off somewhere else.”

“It is a friendly alien armada,” Charban pointed out.

“I’ll let you inform the press of that.”

“No, thank you, Admiral. Communicating with the Dancers is so important, I would hate to take time away from them to deal with human reporters,” Charban intoned piously.

Thirty-five hours later, the First Fleet began to move, assembling its hundreds of warships from orbits dispersed around Varandal Star System. Dauntless, the guide on which every other warship took station, held her orbit as the other ships swung close, forming into a lattice in which every ship’s weapons supported other ships, and any target would be engaged by many ships.

Normally, Geary took pride in the precise and effective arrangements of his ships. The current formation was shaped like a single, huge cylinder containing thirteen battle cruisers, twenty-one battleships, twenty-four heavy cruisers, forty-four light cruisers, and ninety-one destroyers. The attack transport Mistral was tucked well inside the cylinder, as protected from attack as possible.

But human formations, no matter how elegant, always looked crude and clumsy next to Dancer arrangements of ships. The forty Dancer ships had also formed into a cylinder, as if advertising their association with Geary’s warships. But the Dancer formation radiated a relaxed perfection that made it appear like a grouping of living things in faultless synchronization with each other. Whenever they maneuvered, the Dancers lived up to their names, their ships gliding smoothly through space, moving in intricate choreographies that appeared natural rather than planned and practiced.

“Show-offs,” Desjani grumbled. A widely acknowledged expert ship driver among humans, her skills paled next to those of the Dancers.

Geary wisely refrained from responding to her comment. They were all in the conference room again, a star display showing the shapes of the human and alien formations floating apparently right before every image of every ship commanding officer in the fleet.

How many times had he held these conferences? How many times had every commanding officer in the fleet looked to him for orders and inspiration and hope?

Why hadn’t it gotten any easier?

“As I told you last time we met, we’ve located the base the dark ships are using,” Geary began. “We’ve learned how to reach that base, and now we’re going to go there, destroy the support facilities for the dark ships and any dark ships that are present. We’re bringing along our last remaining assault transport and enough Marines to occupy a facility that we expect to be there, so we can collect all of the intelligence possible and rescue anyone trapped there by the dark ships.”

“Where is this mysterious base?” Captain Badaya asked. “Why haven’t we been able to find it before now? And why was it so hard to find out a means to reach it? Is it in Syndic territory?”

“Where is it?” Geary shifted the star display to focus on the binary, deriving some satisfaction from the uncomprehending looks most of his commanders gave the image. He must have looked exactly like that when Charban first asked about the two stars. “Right there. A binary star system.”

“We’re going to jump to a binary?” Captain Vitali asked. “There’s a stable jump point there?”

“No, as far as we can tell there are no stable jump points,” Geary said. “This star system has a hypernet gate. That’s how we’ll get there. I know what the next question is. Why did the Alliance build a hypernet gate at a binary? The answer is two words. Unity Alternate.”

The resulting silence around the table was finally broken by Captain Armus. “There is a real Unity Alternate?”

“Yes,” Geary replied. “The code for the gate there was already in our hypernet keys but needed to be unlocked for us to see it. The key aboard Dauntless has already had the necessary unlocking code loaded, and after this conference, I will be transmitting that same code to all of your ships.” He paused, seeing in everyone’s expressions the questions that statement created. “This is a fully authorized software patch. I received it from the government. This is an official tasking. The government wants Unity Alternate neutralized.”

“Neutralized?” Badaya exploded. “What is it we are neutralizing at our own government’s secret alternative command base?”

“The dark ships,” Geary said. “As well as potentially rogue elements of certain organizations.”

“Which organizations?” Captain Vitali asked.

“I don’t know. Neither does the government.”

“You did say rogue elements,” Captain Duellos conceded.

“Wait a moment,” Badaya said heatedly. “You are saying that the government, which has been eyeing us with suspicion that we were a threat to the Alliance, is now depending on us to clean up a real threat to the Alliance?” From Badaya’s injured tone, the idea of acting against the government never would have occurred to him. No one listening would have guessed that Badaya had once been at the forefront of those agitating for a military coup.

“That’s right,” Tanya said, absolutely deadpan.

Badaya frowned. “All right. Then we’ll do that. We’ll show them!”

“The Dancers are accompanying us,” Geary added. “They want to help take down the dark ships.”

“What if our paths cross, Admiral?” someone asked. “What if the dark ships head to attack Varandal while we’re on our way to Unity Alternate?”

“We’re going to get the job done at Unity Alternate and get back here,” Geary said. “No delays. It’s far from ideal, but we can’t sit around Varandal or any other place waiting for the dark ships to attack. We have to hit them where they aren’t and where it will hurt the most.”

“We must succeed,” Captain Tulev said. “We will succeed.”

“Exactly,” Geary said.

As the images of the other officers once again vanished in a flurry, that of Commander Neeson lingered briefly. “I guess you don’t need me to find that gate anymore, Admiral.”

“No,” Geary admitted. “I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you until now.”

“A gate hidden on our own hypernet keys!” Neeson shook his head. “The hypernet was ‘discovered’ by scientists in the Alliance and the Syndicate Worlds almost simultaneously, just in time to keep the war going as both the Alliance and the Syndicate Worlds had begun staggering from the effort to continue it. None of us realized that the enigmas had leaked the technology to both sides for just the purpose of keeping the war between humans going. We’ve never known everything about it. I wonder how many other secrets the hypernet holds?”

“Let’s win this fight, then find out,” Geary said.

Neeson smiled and saluted. “That sounds like a plan worthy of Black Jack, if you’ll excuse me for saying so, Admiral.”

“Just this once.” Geary watched Neeson’s image vanish, then walked with Desjani out of the conference room.

He was surprised to find Victoria Rione waiting for him in the passageway outside the compartment. “I want to transfer to Mistral, Admiral.”

Desjani said nothing, but disapproval was obvious in the way she held herself.

“Why?” Geary asked.

“Three reasons,” Rione explained. “One, your Marines are supposed to collect all possible intelligence material stored on the facility there. I have the experience, and a unique set of software tools, to assist in that. Two, if the Marines encounter security or paramilitary forces defending the facilities and want to avoid a pitched battle, I could assist greatly in negotiating a surrender of the defenders. Three, if my husband is indeed being held somewhere on those facilities, I want to be there to get him out.” She looked toward Desjani. “And, fourth out of three, my presence would probably be less disruptive aboard Mistral.”

Tanya looked directly at Rione, speaking sternly. “If your presence on Dauntless is judged as needed by Admiral Geary, then you are more than welcome to stay here. You will be treated with every professional courtesy.”

“You know how much that aggravates me, don’t you?” Rione said dryly. “Admiral, I cannot help you in a fight against the dark ships. There is nothing to negotiate with. But I can be of great help to the Marines. I am asking to be allowed to assist them.”

“What about talking to the Dancers? You were one of our primary points of contact with them,” Geary pointed out.

“You don’t need me for that now,” Rione said. “The Dancers are finally speaking plainly enough to those with the skill to phrase the questions right. I wouldn’t dream of crowding Lieutenant Iger and that lieutenant with the lovely emerald hair, who seem to prefer being alone together in that comm room.”

It all made excellent sense. There was no reason to object. And yet Geary felt an odd sense of disquiet as he considered his answer. Discounting that feeling as the result of having to face the uncertainties of another battle with the dark ships, Geary nodded to Rione. “You make a good case. There is plenty of room aboard Mistral for you since they are only carrying two battalions of Marines. I don’t know why I haven’t already thought to ask you to transfer to Mistral.”

“I know how much you personally enjoy having me around, Admiral,” Rione said, smiling as Desjani’s glower deepened.

“I’ll have to do without your immediate company for a while for the benefit of the Alliance,” Geary said. “I will let Colonel Rico and Commander Young know that you are coming to work with them. Captain Desjani, can you arrange an immediate shuttle lift to Mistral for Senator Rione?”

“With pleasure,” Tanya snapped. “By your leave, sir.” She saluted, then walked off rapidly down the passageway, crew members scattering as they saw her coming and judged her mood.

“Do you have to do that kind of thing?” Geary asked Rione heavily.

“It may be some sort of compulsion,” Rione said. “I’m sorry. It’s a shabby way to repay your hospitality.” She met his eyes. “Good luck, Admiral. Tell Captain Desjani I regret the difficulties that I have caused her.”

Rione walked off as well, leaving Geary staring after her and trying to recall the last time that Rione had used Desjani’s name.

He had been wondering what he would do if the dark ships erupted from Varandal’s hypernet gate as his fleet was approaching it. But as the First Fleet and the Dancer armada grew closer to the huge structure humans called a gate, which was actually a vast ring of hundreds of tethers that held a particle matrix in the desired form, no threat emanated from it.

“We’ll be back as soon as we can complete the mission,” Geary sent in a message to Admiral Timbale that would not reach Ambaru Station for hours.

Desjani had already called up the hypernet key controls. “Unity Alternate is selected as the fleet’s destination, Admiral. The hypernet field is set wide enough to include the entire fleet as well as the Dancer ships. We’re ready to go whenever you give the word.”

“Thank you, Captain. Activate hypernet.”

She touched the command, and the stars vanished.