Relentless

“Yes, sir,” Iger agreed. “That seems like the most reasonable interpretation. A force kept so far from us that the Alliance couldn’t pick up indications of it and never knew of its existence. But now the Syndics are so worried about our getting home with a Syndic hypernet key that they pulled that reserve flotilla out of position to try to stop us.”

“Damn. We didn’t need that.”

“No, sir.”

“Any idea where they are now?” Geary asked, eyeing the star display.

“Not too far from here,” Iger suggested. “A star system within one or two jumps. That’s our best guess. Or they were there fairly recently.”

“Kalixa? It was a possible objective for us from Dilawa. They could have defended the hypernet gate there, and the gate would allow them to shift position quickly if we ended up not going to Kalixa.”

Iger nodded. “That’s as good a guess as any, sir. But the picket ships from here will be at Kalixa soon to tell them we went to Heradao, so they’ll probably shift to a star system blocking our way home from here.”

One more big battle left to fight, then, with a possibly veteran force that was fully supplied with fuel cells and expendable weaponry. His anger at this turn of fate shifted as Geary thought about what might have happened if the Alliance fleet had run into the Syndic reserve flotilla without warning that it even existed.

“Lieutenant Iger, you and your people have done an outstanding job. This is critically important information. Well done.”

Iger beamed. “Thank you, sir. I’ll make certain everyone in intelligence knows you said that.” But then the intelligence officer looked uneasy. “Sir, I know our first priority is worrying about the consequences of this for us, but if the Syndics have been maintaining for who knows how long a major force along their border with whatever those aliens are, they must have had good reason to be wary of what the aliens might do. What if the aliens realize the reserve flotilla is gone from the border?”

“Good point, Lieutenant, but I’m sure they already know.” Geary indicated the symbols for hypernet gates. “If those aliens can redirect ships within a hypernet, that means they can tell when ships are using that hypernet, and the only way that reserve flotilla could have come that far in any reasonable amount of time is by using the Syndic hypernet.”

“Then they know they have a window of opportunity.” Iger bit his lip. “And if we destroy this reserve flotilla, which we’ll have to do if we encounter it, then that window will be as big as a supernova.”

Geary studied the Syndicate Worlds’ territory portrayed on the star display, imagining what could happen if the Syndic leaders lost their grip on dissident star systems, if their fleet was temporarily too weak to defend Syndic space, if the aliens chose to attack at that point. From what Geary knew of history, one of the truisms of empires was that they were only as strong as their ability to keep their own populace in line. If they lost that, empires tended to fall apart very rapidly, and the Syndicate Worlds were in many ways an empire in all but name.

He needed to destroy this Syndic reserve flotilla in order to get his own fleet home. But by doing that he might be triggering events in which many Syndic-controlled star systems ended up like Heradao.

“Sir?” Iger asked, interrupting Geary’s train of thought. “Do we have any idea what the intentions of the aliens are?”

“No, Lieutenant. Just guesses based on far too few facts. Just as important as intentions, we have no idea what their capabilities may be. We still know practically nothing about these aliens. Lieutenant Iger, if we run into that reserve flotilla we need to capture as many senior Syndic officers from it as possible and find out what they know. Surely they would have been briefed on whatever the Syndics have managed to learn about the aliens.”

“Most likely, sir,” Iger agreed, then looked aggravated. “Although you’d be surprised how many times people get totally focused on keeping a secret and try to keep important information like that from those who need it the most for fear of its being compromised.”

“That still happens? Well, hell, of course it does. It was probably happening back when those original Persian donkeys were making noise.”

TIME for another fleet conference. He didn’t hate them nearly as much as he used to, but was still acutely aware that some of the officers among those whose images were shown around the virtual table were actively plotting against him and ships of the fleet itself. Most of the commanding officers of the fleet’s ships seemed cheerful though, after the latest victory and knowing how close they were to home. Unfortunately, it was also time to break the bad news. “I’ve asked Lieutenant Iger from intelligence to be present so he can brief everyone on something he and I have already discussed.” Waving toward Iger, Geary sat down. Since he already knew the content of Iger’s briefing, he spent the time watching the reactions to the news.

Cheerfulness faded into disbelief, followed by a general sense of anger. Captain Armus put the feelings into words. “How could our intelligence be so wrong?”

Geary answered. “As Lieutenant Iger explained, this reserve flotilla has been kept so far from Alliance space that there were no indicators of its existence that we could detect.”

“Why?” Daring’s commanding officer asked. “That’s a lot of ships, and I know the Syndics could have used them at different times in the past. Why leave them sitting on the border of Syndic space farthest from the Alliance?”

“We can only speculate as to the reasons,” Geary replied. Strictly speaking, he was being truthful. Everything known about the aliens on that side of Syndic space was speculation. “But they did do it, and now it seems they’ve brought that flotilla here.”

“Where are they?” Dragon’s commanding officer questioned Iger.

“We believe they’re somewhere within a jump or two of Heradao.”

Geary pulled up the star display for the region. “When we arrived in Heradao, Captain Desjani and I wondered why the Syndic flotilla here had left a clear path open for Kalixa. It may well be that the reserve flotilla was waiting for us at Kalixa. If we’d gone that way, the Syndic flotilla here would have followed and we would have been trapped between two powerful enemy forces.”

“Typical Syndic trick,” Captain Badaya complained. “How long will they wait at Kalixa to see if we show up?”

Desjani pointed to the display. “A Syndic HuK stationed at the jump point to Kalixa jumped that way after we’d defeated the flotilla here. There’s another near that jump point that’s waiting to see which we way we go, and, of course, there are two HuKs hanging around the jump point for Padronis.”

Badaya studied the display, then nodded. “Atalia. They’ll know when we jump for Padronis, they’ll know we can’t reach Kalixa from Padronis, so they’ll head for Atalia and try to stop us there since they know we have to go that way.”

“That’s a very good estimate,” Geary agreed. “It’s what Lieutenant Iger and I came up with, too.”

“We seem to be glossing over some major failures,” Captain Kila said in a mild tone at odds with her words. “Somebody just misplaced a Syndic flotilla comprised in part of twenty battleships and twenty battle cruisers?” Lieutenant Iger, visibly uncomfortable, started to answer her. “No, Lieutenant. I’m not interested in hearing excuses. If you were a line officer you’d be relieved for cause and—”

“Captain Kila.” Something in Geary’s voice made even Kila stop speaking. “Lieutenant Iger works for me, not you. If not for the efforts of him and his subordinates, we wouldn’t even know this flotilla existed.”

Kila turned a hard look on Geary. “Just for the record, then, Captain Geary, you don’t believe in holding people accountable for their failures?”

Something inside Geary snapped. “If I did, Captain Kila, I would hold you accountable for the loss of the battle cruiser Opportune.”

Dead silence fell.

Out of the corner of his eye, Geary could see Desjani giving him a warning look. He knew what she’d be saying out loud if she could. You can’t condemn an officer in this fleet for being too aggressive. None of your officers will accept that, not even now.

Kila seemed to be searching for just the right reply.

Captain Caligo spoke up before Kila could. “We need to focus on the future, not the past. The Syndics are the enemy, not our fellow officers.”

The words were unexceptional, but perhaps because of that the tension eased.

“Caligo’s right. It doesn’t matter where the Syndics came from,” Warspite’s captain declared. “We’re going to meet them at Atalia. That’s all I care about.”

Geary took a deep breath. “Right. We’ll go into a final battle formation just before jumping for Atalia from Padronis. The worst case for us will be a fight right off the jump exit, but the Syndics seem to have abandoned that tactic. Once we have time to evaluate their position and formation, we’ll move in and hurt them.”

“We’re going to be very low on fuel cells,” Tulev observed. “The loss of Goblin couldn’t be helped, but it made things worse.”

“I know. That just means we have to win despite the logistics situation.” As plans went, that was inspiring but totally useless. He couldn’t think of anything else to say, though.

“We’re better than they are,” Desjani interjected calmly. “We can fight smarter and harder.” Officers were perking up around the table at her words. Badaya gave Desjani an approving look that Desjani didn’t seem to notice. Kila gave her an equally scornful look, but Desjani ignored that as well. “We’ll win again, because we also have a combat leader the Syndics cannot match.”

That went over very well. Even Tulev quirked a small smile. “I cannot argue with Captain Desjani on that last. I have full confidence in Captain Geary, based on his record against the enemy.”

“Thank you,” Geary said. “Now, you all know what we’ll face. We’ll deal with this Syndic flotilla just as we have the other enemy flotillas we’ve encountered. I consider the chances of that reserve flotilla being at Padronis to be very small, but we’ll also be ready when we arrive there just in case. I’ll see you all again at Padronis.”

When the virtual presences had all vanished, and Lieutenant Iger had hastened out of the room with ill-concealed relief, Geary turned to Desjani with an apologetic shrug. “Sorry. I know I lost it with Kila.”

“It’s what she wanted,” Desjani pointed out. “She’s an enemy, sir, and you need to follow the same rules with her that you do with the Syndics. Don’t let her lure you into an ambush.”

“Okay. I got it. Next time I start to say something stupid, give me a good swift kick.”

Desjani raised both eyebrows. “That would certainly earn me some interesting glances. Lately, I’m already getting too many of those as it is every time I open my mouth.”

“Uh, yeah. Maybe instead you should just discreetly give me your don’t-go-there look.”

“I have a don’t-go-there look?”

“Hell, yes. Don’t pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about.”

“I haven’t any idea.” Desjani headed for the hatch. “Just be careful what you say around Kila. She’s waiting to pounce.”

“One more thing.” Desjani paused, waiting for Geary to continue. “Co-President Rione asked me to thank you for the way you handled Commander Fensin. It did him a lot of good.”

Desjani shrugged. “I did my job, sir. I’m pleased I was able to render assistance to Commander Fensin.”

“Is there any response you want to give Co-President Rione?” Geary pressed, hoping for some thaw between the two women.

“No, sir. I wouldn’t want you to feel obligated to speak with her on my account.”

He watched her go, knowing full well that the bad blood between Desjani and Rione was partly his fault but having no idea how to win that particular engagement.

THERE was one last thing that had to be done before the fleet left Heradao. It had happened in every star system in which the fleet had fought, but that didn’t make the event any easier. Geary had put on a dress uniform and stood stiffly in the shuttle dock before a ceremonial guard of Marines and sailors similarly attired in their most formal uniforms. Black bands with a broad strip of gold trim on either end adorned every left arm.

Geary cleared his throat and tried to speak evenly. “Every victory comes at a price. Many of our comrades have died in this star system, fighting for their homes and families, for what they believed in, for the friends who fought beside them. Now we must bid farewell to the remains of those who fell in honorable battle. May all honor be given to their memories, and may all comfort be given to those they leave behind. Their spirits have already gone to join their ancestors, and now their bodies will be consigned to one of the beacons the living stars have given to us. Our prayers and our thanks go with them.”

Captain Desjani stepped forward, her face stern, and pivoted to face the Marines. “Ready.” The Marines brought their weapons up. “Fire.” The weapons, set to the lowest discharge levels, winked bright lights off the overhead. “Fire.” More lights. “Fire.”

Desjani stepped back.

Geary turned to face her. “Launch the remains of the honored dead on their final journey.”

Desjani saluted, pivoted again to give the order and transmit the same command to every ship in the fleet that had suffered losses.

The Alliance fleet launched its dead, hundreds of capsules holding bodies, a flotilla of the departed aimed for the star Heradao.

Geary heard Desjani praying softly and similar sounds from others around him. He waited a respectful interval, breathing a few words to his own ancestors on behalf of those who were gone, then called out a last command. “Dismissed.”

Marines and sailors marched out slowly, along with most of the others who had been present. Geary stood silently, his eyes on a large display screen showing the multitude of body capsules sailing away from the fleet.

Desjani came to stand beside him. “It’s always the hardest part,” she commented. “Saying good-bye.”

“Yeah. I wish we could have taken them home for burials on their home worlds.”

She shook her head. “It’s not practical. We’d have to wrap garlands of the dead around the outer hulls of our ships. There wouldn’t be anything dignified about that. This way they get the most honorable burial possible, consigned to the embrace of a star.”

“Burials in space were rare in my time,” Geary said. “But then, we didn’t have so many dead to deal with.”

“It’s the best possible resting place,” Desjani insisted. She placed one hand on her heart. “Everything that makes us came from the stars. Now these dead are returning to a star, and someday it will cast the elements within them outward just as stars have done since the beginning, and in time those elements will combine to form new stars, new worlds, new lives. ‘From the stars we came, and to the stars we return,’ ” she quoted. “This is a good fate, the last honor we can render those who died alongside us.”

“You’re right.” Even the most militant agnostic couldn’t argue the literal truth of what Desjani had said, and though Geary found the sheer scale of the time involved to be unnerving, he also felt the comfort of being part of an eternal cycle symbolized by the gold strips on either side of the black mourning band he wore. Light, dark, light. The dark was just an interval.

“And you must never forget,” Desjani added, “that if not for you, every man and woman in this fleet would either already be dead, or would be in a Syndic labor camp with nothing to look forward to for the rest of their lives except their eventual deaths far from all they loved.”

“I didn’t do it alone. It couldn’t have happened without the efforts and courage of every one of those men and women. But thank you. You give me strength when I need it the most.”

“You’re welcome.” Her hand rested very briefly on his arm near the mourning band, then Desjani left without another word.

He stayed there a little longer, watching the capsules recede on their journey to the star. Several hours later, the Alliance fleet jumped for Padronis, the cities and planets of Heradao still convulsing in civil war in the fleet’s wake.

ANOTHER star system abandoned by humanity, Padronis held nothing the Alliance fleet could use. Geary shook his head as he took in the assessments of the fleet’s sensors on what the Syndics had left behind at one small rescue station when they abandoned this star. There couldn’t be anything there for which it would be worth slowing down any of his ships.

Not that they’d expected anything else. Padronis was a white dwarf star, glittering alone in the emptiness of space, unaccompanied by the array of planets and asteroids that usually orbited stars. Like other white dwarf stars, every once in a while Padronis would accumulate too much helium in its outer shell and go nova, ejecting the outer shell and brightening a great deal for a short time. These occasional novas hadn’t been beneficial for anything once near Padronis. Any worlds or rocks had all been long since smashed and hurled into the darkness between stars, leaving only the relatively recent and now-abandoned Syndic facility orbiting Padronis. Someday, Padronis would go nova again, and that facility would be blown away as well, but the fleet’s sensors had analyzed the star’s outer shell and concluded that the date of that event was still comfortably distant in the future.

“Imagine having to be the crew on that thing,” Geary remarked to Desjani, indicating the abandoned Syndic facility on his display. “They needed an emergency station here when lots of ships had to pass through using jump drives, but those on it must have felt murderously isolated. This is as close to nothing as any star system can be.”

She grimaced and nodded. “The only thing worse would be getting stuck in a black-hole system, though no one but science geeks would be likely to do that. I’ll lay you odds they crewed the station here using criminals. Go to a labor camp for years or go to Padronis. I wonder how many chose the labor camp.”

“I think I would’ve.” Geary was about to add something else when his display flickered, then vanished completely as the lights on Dauntless’s bridge dimmed.

“What happened?” Desjani demanded of her bridge crew, punching her own nonresponsive controls to try to get status reports.

“Emergency system shutdown,” a watch-stander reported, his voice startled. “As far as I can tell just about everything on the ship has gone off-line except for the emergency backups.”

“Why?”

“Cause unknown, Captain. I—Wait. Engineering is using the sound-powered comm system to update us. They say the power core did an emergency crash. They’re running evaluations on everything before bringing it back online.”

Desjani clenched her fists. “What could have caused the emergency crash?”

The engineering watch-stander looked pale under the dimmer emergency lighting. “Unknown as yet. Thank the living stars the core managed to shut itself down, Captain. Anything that would trigger an emergency crash would be as serious as it gets.”

Geary spoke into the silence that followed that report. “We just narrowly avoided a power-core failure?”

“Looks like it. A catastrophic power-core failure.” Desjani’s face was grim as she turned to her watch-standers. “I want full status reports from all departments as soon as possible and an estimated time from engineering to restart the core whenever they can provide one.”

“Do we have any communications with the rest of the fleet?” Geary asked.

“Emergency systems are online, sir. Voice only, no data net.”

“Notify the rest of the fleet what happened to us.”

“Yes, sir.” The communications watch paused, then drew in a shocked breath. “Sir, we have a message from Daring reporting that Lorica suffered a power-core failure at the same time as our system shutdown. Lorica was totally destroyed. No signs of survivors.”

One such failure in routine circumstances would be a rare but-not-impossible event. Two at the exact same time could only mean sabotage. Whoever had been planting worms in the fleet’s systems had struck again.

“Bastards,” Desjani breathed, her jaw muscles standing out. Raising her voice, she spoke with what Geary thought was amazing control. “Inform engineering that the likely cause of the emergency crash of the power core was a worm in the operating systems.”

All of the watch-standers stared back at her, their expressions horrified, then the engineering watch hastily nodded. “Yes, Captain.”

“Captain Geary,” the operations watch-stander called. “Daring is asking what instructions to relay to the rest of the fleet. Should they maintain station on Dauntless even if she drifts off course and speed?”

That had the virtue of being a relatively simple decision. Maneuvering one ship back into position would cost a lot less in fuel than having the entire fleet trying to match anything Dauntless did while her own propulsion and maneuvering systems were shut down. “Tell Daring to assume role as fleet guide until Dauntless gets power back.”

It was less than twenty minutes before Dauntless’s systems-security officer called the bridge, but it felt like the longest twenty minutes of Geary’s life. It was easy to overlook how accustomed he was to being able to scan a display and see everything he needed to see, easy until that display was gone and nothing could be seen in front of his fleet command seat but the part of Dauntless’s bridge visible from that angle. There weren’t any physical windows, of course, not here deep within Dauntless’s hull, and not on the outer hull, either. That arrangement made a great deal of sense in terms of maintaining hull strength and integrity, but at times like this even a single small window would have been a welcome connection to the rest of the fleet.

“We found it, Captain Desjani,” the systems officer reported, his voice sounding oddly distant across the voice-powered emergency circuit. “The worm tried to induce core overload failure, but our safety backups managed to crash the core first.”

“Do you have any idea why Lorica’s safety backups didn’t manage to save her?” Desjani asked.

“I can only guess, Captain. Operating systems are hugely complex, so every ship’s operating systems are subtly different even when they’re supposed to be identical. Lorica’s safety backups may have been just enough dissimilar to add up to a critical difference. Or maybe the attempted overload instructions came during the right portion of the millisecond when our backups were watching for something like that, but not when Lorica’s were. I don’t want to imply carelessness by the dead, but it’s possible that Lorica’s systems people hadn’t tweaked their safety backups recently enough. There’s just no telling, and we’ll probably never know since I assume there’s not enough left of Lorica to tell us anything.”

Desjani closed her eyes momentarily, her lips moving in a brief prayer. Geary understood how she felt. Dauntless’s survival had been a near thing. “Are you certain,” she demanded of her officer, “that there’s nothing else lurking in the systems?”

“We’ve found nothing else, Captain.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

“Yes, Captain! I mean, no, Captain! If there were any other worms, we’d have found them. I’d bet my life on it.”

Desjani’s lips curled upward at the edges in a humorless smile. “That’s exactly what you’re doing. Make certain that worm is completely eliminated and keep looking for other threats in our systems. Notify me when you and the chief engineer feel comfortable with restarting the power core.”

“Yes, Captain. Estimated time is another fifteen minutes.”

She slumped back in her command seat, then looked around the bridge. “At ease, everyone. It’ll be another fifteen minutes. Be ready to hit the deck running when the power comes back on.”

Geary stared at the nearest bulkhead, lacking the welcome distractions of dealing with the immediate problems Desjani and her crew had to address. “We have to find the people responsible for this,” he finally muttered to Desjani out of frustration. “This time they’ve succeeded in destroying one of our ships.”

“But why Lorica?” Desjani asked in a very quiet voice. “Do you have any idea?”

“Yeah.” Commander Gaes, Lorica’s commanding officer, had been the one to warn him about the first worm in the fleet. She’d known something, and apparently that something had been too much for whoever was behind the worms.

Desjani nodded, watching Geary. “Gaes went with Falco, but since Lorica rejoined the fleet, she’s been a supporter of yours. Her contacts with dissident officers must have been useful to you.”

“They were. Apparently I wasn’t the only one to think so.”

“We’ll get the ones responsible for this, Captain Geary,” Desjani promised. “Someone will know who did it and they’ll surely talk now.”

He wasn’t so certain of that. Worms designed to directly destroy Alliance ships would have aroused protests if knowledge of them had been spread to more than a very few people, and those few people were now aware that exposing themselves would guarantee firing squads. They waited silently after that. With everything except emergency systems down, the few working lights dim, the bridge began to feel claustrophobic. Geary wondered if the temperature was getting as warm as his imagination insisted, whether the air was becoming fouler. He knew emergency backups would power essential functions for much longer than it had been since the core crashed, though, so Geary made an effort to relax and look unconcerned.

“Power-core systems have been scrubbed,” the welcome report finally arrived. “The worm responsible for the shutdown is confirmed gone. Request permission for restart of power core.”

“Do it,” Desjani snapped. A few minutes later the lights on the bridge brightened, and the vent fans hummed a little stronger. Less than a minute after that, the displays reappeared floating in front of everyone. “Get us back where we belong,” she ordered the maneuvering watch. “We probably drifted a little out of position relative to the other ships. Take station on Daring and we’ll reassume guide duties for the fleet.”

The reappearance of his displays helped a lot. Geary had been fighting down an irrational worry that more ships had been lost, and he just hadn’t been told. Now he could confirm that only Lorica was gone. As if that was good news. Checking the reports from the ships closest to Lorica when she’d exploded, Geary grimaced. “No survivors.”

“If there had been survivors, they would have had to have ejected their escape pods prior to the core overload,” Desjani pointed out. “They wouldn’t have survived for long after that once the rest of the fleet realized what that implied.”

She was right, of course, but that didn’t help much. Taking a deep breath, Geary called up a communications window and broadcast to the fleet. “This is Captain Geary. Dauntless and everyone on her are safe. We’re investigating the cause of the core overload on Lorica and the core crash on Dauntless. Anyone with any information regarding either incident please forward it to me immediately.”

Investigating. A big word for something unlikely to produce any results. If the ones responsible for this worm were as diligent as they’d been with earlier worms, there’d be absolutely no identifiers that could be used to trace the worm back to its origin. Knowing that, Geary had to restrain himself from walking to the nearest bulkhead and punching it in aggravation.

Instead, he brought up his message queue, not expecting to see the answers he needed but still looking for distractions. Geary frowned as he noticed all of the high-priority messages already blinking in his queue. They must have all been put into the fleet net while Dauntless’s systems were down, meaning they wouldn’t be answers to his request for information. It would take forever to get through all of them, and most were probably just variations on “what happened” and “are you all right?”

Then he stopped and stared.

One of the messages was tagged as being from Lorica.

“Captain Desjani, can you confirm the time of Lorica’s destruction for me?” Geary asked. She gave him a puzzled glance, clearly wondering why that information was important at the moment.

“Our own power core did its emergency crash at 1412. According to system records we received from the rest of the fleet, Lorica blew up at… two point seven seconds past 1412.”

Geary checked the message again. “I have a message in my queue from Lorica with a transmission time of 1415.”

“Sir?” Desjani stepped over beside him, leaned over Geary’s shoulder to view his display, then tapped some controls next to his hand. “The fleet communications net sees the message as having been received for transmission after 1414. It was sent on the next full minute.” She straightened and glared at her communications watch. “How could the communications system see a message as having been received from Lorica well after that ship was destroyed?”

“It wouldn’t have, Captain. Even if it was delayed in delivery, the system would log when it was actually sent.” The watch-stander looked briefly baffled, then nodded as understanding came. “The message had to have been parked and hidden in the system. People aren’t supposed to do that, but there are several ways to manage it. Lorica, or somebody on Lorica, sent that message out at some earlier time into the comm-system net but had it concealed under a protocol that wouldn’t make it visible to the system until something happened, like a certain time arrived.”

Geary shook his head. “Why would Lorica have done that?” He could think of a number of reasons why someone who had screwed up would want a message time to be different from when it was actually sent, but couldn’t understand what might have prompted someone on Lorica to set that up. Calling up the message, Geary scanned it. It wasn’t actually a message, but a big dump of code. “Captain Desjani, who can tell me what this is?”

She eyed it, then tapped some more controls. “With your permission I’ll get an assessment from my systems-security officer before we send this anywhere else, sir. We don’t know what might be in it.”

He felt a momentary surge of fear and anger at himself. “This could be the worm that almost destroyed us?”

“Not sent that way,” Desjani replied with a shake of her head. “The filters and firewalls in this part of the comm system don’t let anything active through. Trying to send the worm this way would be like shooting a picture of a missile at us instead of the actual missile. If that’s what this is. My systems people should be able to tell.”

The response came fairly quickly, the face of Desjani’s systems-security officer appearing in small windows on both her and Geary’s displays. The lieutenant commander seemed stunned. “Sir, Captain, I mean, uh… that message from Lorica. It’s the coding for the first worm, the one that would’ve messed with every ships’ jump drives.”

“That worm came from Lorica?” Geary felt a deep sense of disappointment. He’d trusted Commander Gaes, given her a second chance, and yet—

“No, sir. The message is a copy of the first worm, with the system-tracking information and originating ship’s identity still on it. I have no idea how Lorica got a copy of that.” Dauntless’s systems-security officer swallowed nervously. “According to what’s in Lorica’s transmission, that worm originally came from Inspire, sir.”