Relentless

TWELVE

More messages to send, one to the enemy. “Give me a link to the Syndic flagship.” A moment later, the link established, Geary put on his best “hero out of legend” look as he sent his message. “To the CEO commanding the Syndicate Worlds reserve flotilla, this is Captain John Geary. We know from whom your flotilla has been defending Syndicate Worlds space on the border on the far side from the Alliance. You know that the Alliance did not collapse the hypernet gate at Kalixa. You know who did. Don’t serve their aims. You will not be permitted to carry out your orders in this star system. To the honor of our ancestors. Geary out.”

It probably wouldn’t work, but it was worth trying.

Another message. “To the Alliance command center in Varandal, this is Captain John Geary, acting commanding officer of the Alliance fleet. I will attempt to defeat this Syndic flotilla and request any assistance you can provide. Be advised that the Syndic goal is to collapse the hypernet gate here, producing an energy discharge of nova-scale intensity. To the honor of our ancestors. Geary out.”

Desjani got his attention. “Cresida is broadcasting her package. It’s going out to everyone in the star system.”

“Good.” He took a moment to think, watching his ships move through space, the arcs of their paths forming a brilliant web on the display. The battle cruisers were swinging out wide, the battleships cutting in through the star system, aiming to reach positions on either side of the Syndics. Should he have said something else to his grandniece? But what could he say in the middle of battle?

You’ve probably noticed that Repulse isn’t with the fleet. That’s because your brother probably died covering the fleet’s retreat from the Syndic home system. He gave me a message for you, by the way.

No. Anything personal would have to wait. Jane Geary didn’t need the distractions. Neither did he. Until this engagement was over, he was the fleet commander first, Captain John Geary second, and the granduncle of Jane Geary a distant third.

The battle cruisers were settling into formation with their light cruisers and destroyers, the battleships already falling behind. After the rush of activity, there would be a long period of waiting. Even at their higher velocity, it would take the battle cruisers twenty-five hours to reach their goal, an orbit between the Syndics and the hypernet gate. In about two and a half more hours, the Syndic reserve flotilla would see the arrival of the Alliance fleet. It would be a little less than three additional hours before the Alliance fleet saw how the Syndics reacted to that.

Geary called the fleet. “Stand down from combat imminent status. Rest your crews.”

“Sir, Howitzer is requesting instructions.”

He accepted the message, seeing Howitzer’s commanding officer’s jaw drop as she saw Geary. “What were your orders, Captain?” he asked.

It took Howitzer’s commanding officer a moment to recover. “Uh, sir, we had orders to maintain position near this jump point, acting as scout and courier as necessary.”

“Very well. I understand that’s not the most glamorous assignment, but it’s a very important one. Remain on station. If the Syndics succeed in causing the collapse of the hypernet gate here, you’ll see them destroying the tethers. Do not wait to view the collapse of the gate. If you do, you’ll be destroyed by the wave front coming out of it. You’ll be able to tell when it’s close to collapse. You’ll have to jump before that and report that Varandal has probably been destroyed.”

“Y-yes, sir.”

“Thank you.” Geary sat and gazed at the display after the image of Howitzer’s captain vanished, thinking of everything that could go wrong. “Tanya, what should the battle cruisers’ fuel-cell reserves be at when we meet the Syndics?”

“Roughly fifteen percent, sir, more or less depending on what the Syndics do.”

“How many fuel cells does the fleet use in a typical engagement?”

Desjani spread her hands. “One of your typical engagements or one of the engagements before you assumed command, sir?”

“Mine.”

“You don’t have a typical engagement, sir.” She smiled encouragingly. “We can do it with fifteen percent.”

“If faith were fuel cells, Captain Desjani, you could power this entire fleet.”

“I’m not the only one with faith, Captain Geary.” Her eyes indicated the watch-standers on the bridge, who were calmly or excitedly discussing events. None of them betrayed dread or uncertainty. “They don’t fear the outcome here.”

About five hours later Geary watched his display. In a window there, Captain Jane Geary was acknowledging her orders, her posture and voice stiff, her eyes blazing. She had a haggard appearance, obviously worn by the extended battle that had been fought here before the Alliance fleet arrived. He’d known that because of the century he’d spent in survival sleep, Jane Geary had aged more years than he despite being his grandniece, but it was still odd to see her a bit older than he, her great-uncle. “This is Captain Jane Geary, acknowledging orders from the acting fleet commander. Understand we are to fight to the death to prevent the Syndics from destroying the hypernet gate. Geary out.”

She avoided saying his name, but she wasn’t disputing his authority. For a moment Geary felt a twinge of resentment that Jane Geary hadn’t saluted, then recalled that no one outside of the fleet would use a gesture that he had reintroduced to the fleet. Her omission hadn’t been an insult. Jane Geary had clearly understood the orders to stop the Syndics at all costs. Had she also understood that she had to keep her task force from being destroyed for as long as possible consistent with that?

“Are you all right, sir?” Desjani asked casually.

“I’m just wishing my family reunions could take place under less stressful circumstances. Wait. The Syndics are reacting.” Two and a half hours ago, the Syndic reserve flotilla had altered course, angling down and over toward the hypernet gate. Geary ran the courses out, seeing that the Syndics would reach the gate before his battle cruisers could. “It’s up to Jane Geary. Can she slow them down?”

“Let’s hope so.”

The remaining defenders in the Dreadnaught task force had fallen back before the Syndics, maintaining their distance as the enemy headed for them and the hypernet gate. Geary watched as the retreat continued for almost half an hour, wondering what Jane Geary would do. The answer came as the display reported mine strikes against ships of the Syndic reserve flotilla. “Nice,”

Desjani approved. “They waited until the Syndics were fixed on a course pursuing them, then laid mines in their wake. Look. That Syndic battle cruiser took three hits.”

“They lost one of their heavy cruisers, too,” Geary noted. None of the other Syndic warships seemed crippled, but even that small blow helped even the odds a bit.

But the Syndics kept coming, until fifteen minutes later another flurry of mine strikes took out two HuKs and damaged several other ships. “How many mines has she got?” Desjani wondered.

“The Syndics are probably asking themselves the same question.”

This time the Syndic reserve flotilla didn’t hold course, instead accelerating and climbing to alter its intercept of the Dreadnaught task force. But the Alliance ships responded by coming around and dodging to one side, putting the Syndics into another stern chase, this time at an angle away from the hypernet gate. “She’s trying to draw them off,” Desjani noted approvingly. “She is a Geary.”

But the entire Syndic reserve flotilla didn’t pursue. Instead, the Syndic box split, with a half dozen battleships, two battle cruisers, and a bevy of escorts wearing around to go after Dreadnaught while the rest of the Syndics continued toward the hypernet gate.

“What’s she—?” Before Geary could finish the question, Dreadnaught, Dependable, Intemperate, and their escorts had come around again, charging at the Syndic warships pursuing them. The odds were still far too bad, though. He waited with a sick feeling, knowing that whatever had happened had taken place two hours ago.

Then the two groups of warships were diverging again, with no losses visible on either side. “She avoided them. They expected her to charge straight at them and instead she dodged enough to one side to avoid any hits on her force.” Desjani was watching the display with an intrigued look. “Sir, Dreadnaught is deliberately avoiding the Syndics. She’s figured out that as long as her warships are anywhere near that hypernet gate, the Syndics can’t send the heavy cruisers to collapse it while the rest of them run, because Dreadnaught and her companions could finish off the heavy cruisers easily.”

“Some of the Syndics would have to agree to a suicide mission,” Geary agreed. “This isn’t like at Lakota. Those ships know what will happen when they drop that gate. Could the Syndic reserve flotilla commander convince enough ships to stay near it anyway to protect against the Dreadnaught task force?”

“I doubt it. A small group of Special Forces commandos on suicide missions are one thing, but ships’ crews? That’s not in the job description.”

He called down to Lieutenant Iger. “I need to know your assessment of whether or not Syndic ships would knowingly undertake a suicide mission.”

Iger shook his head. “Not typically, sir. Fighting to the death, yes. But Syndic ships usually are not known to conduct suicide missions.” He paused. “There’s something that may bear on this, sir. The Syndic prisoner aboard Dauntless has been receiving medical care. The doctors tell us she’s traumatized by witnessing the destruction of Kalixa Star System and needs sedation to sleep.”

“I’m not too surprised to hear that, Lieutenant,” Geary said, “but how does that bear on the current situation?”

“Sir, remember that she told us that the Syndic CEOs in the reserve flotilla ordered her to send them copies of her cruiser’s records of that event. That means Syndic officers in the reserve flotilla, some of them anyway, have seen the events at Kalixa that had such a strong impact on our prisoner.”

“I see.” If viewing the relatively less horrible scenes at Lakota had created revulsion in his own officers, what effect would viewing something worse have on the Syndics? “I assume the reserve flotilla CEOs are keeping those records under wraps, though.”

Iger smiled. “They’re surely trying, sir. But Syndic systems are just like ours, riddled with back doors and unofficial subnets. You can’t build and maintain nets that complex without creating the means for such things, and we know personnel in the Syndic forces exploit them just like our people do.”

“So maybe a lot of Syndics in that flotilla have seen those records from Kalixa. Thank you, Lieutenant.”

He looked back to Rione and filled her and Desjani in on what Iger had said. Desjani nodded when he finished. “I know seeing what happened at Lakota cured me of any lingering desire to collapse a gate using Dauntless.”

“Can’t the Syndic CEOs in command of the flotilla assume automated control of any ship?” Rione asked.

“They did that at Sancere.”

“They could,” Geary agreed, “but the crews of those Syndic ships at Sancere managed to regain some control before they were destroyed. I think it’s safe to assume the crews of these Syndic ships are primed to override any automatic controls. They already know the consequences if they don’t.”

“Then as long as Dreadnaught avoids destruction, we’ve got a chance,” Desjani exulted.

“Looks like it.” Geary sent another message to Dreadnaught summarizing their latest assessment. “I have to admit that I’m surprised that Jane Geary is avoiding engaging the Syndics. It’s exactly what we need her to do, but it’s not characteristic of, uh…”

“The way this fleet fought before you came back?” Desjani asked. “It isn’t. We wondered why a Geary was in command of a battleship rather than a battle cruiser, remember? There’s your answer. Insufficiently aggressive.”

Meaning she thought about tactics instead of relying upon head-on charges against the enemy. Dreadnaught and Dependable were both living up to their names, but Intemperate wasn’t. Geary felt a renewed hope that he’d get a chance to know Jane Geary. He checked the time remaining until the Alliance battle-cruiser force’s arrival in the vicinity of the Syndic flotilla. Nineteen hours. “Captain Desjani, have we heard anything from the authorities in Varandal?”

“No, sir.”

“Not even any ‘garbled’ messages?”

“No, sir. We haven’t picked up any orders sent to Dreadnaught, either. It looks like they’re going to let you run this battle.”

“Lucky me. How much longer until the Illustrious task force shows up here, do you think?”

Desjani frowned in thought. “Another several hours at the earliest. After picking up the escape pods in Atalia, they couldn’t accelerate up to anything near point one light without nearly draining their last fuel-cell reserves. Badaya’s no genius, but he isn’t stupid enough to do that.”

Geary adjusted the courses of his battle cruisers to reflect the movements of the Syndics, then sent a similar adjustment to the battleships. There wasn’t anything else he could do at the moment except watch the Syndics keep trying to engage the Dreadnaught task force while the Alliance ships kept dancing out of reach.

They were still ten hours from reaching the vicinity of the Syndic reserve flotilla when the Syndic CEO apparently lost all patience. The Syndic box formations came apart as nearly every ship within them went after the Dreadnaught task force independently. Only four Syndic battleships remained in a formation, positioned around ten heavy cruisers with a cluster of light cruisers and HuKs providing additional escort.

“There are the heavy cruisers they’re going to use against the gate. Dodging all of those other ships is going to be hard for Dreadnaught,” Geary commented with a tight feeling inside. Against faster and more maneuverable battle cruisers, cruisers, and HuKs coming from multiple directions, battleships couldn’t hope to evade for long.

The Dreadnaught task force didn’t try. Instead, the Alliance defenders accelerated onto a vector aimed at the small Syndic battleship/heavy-cruiser formation, boring right through the swarm of Syndic combatants between themselves and their targets.

First one, then two, then three Alliance destroyers blew apart or reeled away, all systems dead. The sole light cruiser with Dreadnaught came apart under fire from a dozen Syndics racing past. An Alliance heavy cruiser shuddered as numerous missiles hit, then exploded. Intemperate took hit after hit, but kept going. Another destroyer shattered into fragments.

Then the Alliance task force was through the enemy throng and bearing down on the small Syndic formation.

The four Syndic battleships threw out missiles and grapeshot, but the Alliance ships had split and managed to avoid too many hits. Another Alliance heavy cruiser and two more destroyers blew up under the barrage, though.

The Dreadnaught task force tore through the Syndic formation, the battleships Dreadnaught and Dependable screening the battle cruiser Intemperate from the fire of the Syndic battleships, while every Alliance ship focused its fire on the Syndic heavy cruisers.

Geary watched the formations diverge, waiting with a sick feeling to see the display update as the fleet’s sensors evaluated the results.

“Wow,” Desjani commented. Eight of the ten Syndic heavy cruisers were gone, either blown apart or knocked out. “Give that woman command of a battle cruiser. So much for the Syndic plan. They’re going to need to decrew some more heavy cruisers.”

“Yeah.” Geary shook his head as he looked at what was left of the Dreadnaught task force. Dreadnaught and Dependable had both taken damage but remained formidable. Hits to Intemperate had taken out almost half her weapons and slowed her to the point where she could just keep up with the battleships. Of the escorts, only two heavy cruisers and a sole destroyer had survived the latest firing pass. “She can’t do that again.”

“Maybe one more time,” Desjani disagreed. “But only the two battleships would make it through. If she’s smart, she’ll try to avoid the Syndics for a while.”

The mass of independently maneuvering Syndic warships had come around and was trying to intercept the Dreadnaught task force once more, but the diminished Alliance formation had kept on toward the hypernet gate. “It’ll take them a while to catch those ships,” Geary said, “but not nine hours.” The engagements with Varandal’s defenders before the fleet arrived had cost the Syndics as well as the Alliance. But after the latest clash, the reserve flotilla still boasted fourteen battleships, eleven battle cruisers, eight heavy cruisers, thirty-three light cruisers, and eighty-five HuKs. “Eight heavy cruisers left. Would that be enough for the Syndics to collapse the gate?”

“That depends how long they had to keep shooting.” Desjani shook her head. “That CEO has got to be realizing that he or she can’t stick with the original plan. Dreadnaught and her companions are buying us too much time. The Syndics are going to do something different.”

Geary’s unease suddenly crystallized. “They’re going to try to defeat this formation, then take out our battleships when they get here. After that, they can take as long as they need to nail what’s left of the Dreadnaught task force, then blow the gate at their leisure.”

Desjani nodded. “It’s what I’d do.”

“But we don’t have enough fuel-cell reserves to run rings around the Syndics until the battleships catch up.”

“Do the Syndics know that?”

“Let’s hope not.”

Seven hours out. Four Syndic battleships had continued in pursuit of the Dreadnaught task force. The rest of the Syndic reserve flotilla was re-forming into the conventional box formation, the surviving heavy cruisers well protected in the center. Geary pondered options, knowing that if he tried ramming his battle cruisers through the center of that Syndic box to get the heavy cruisers he might succeed, but that none of his battle cruisers might survive to exit on the other side of the Syndic flotilla. Six hours from contact. The Syndic reserve flotilla, its box formation tight and compact, turned toward the oncoming Alliance battle cruisers. “You called it, Captain Desjani. We’re outnumbered two to one in capital ships, but more importantly with all those battleships, the Syndics have at least a three-to-one advantage in firepower and armor.” His eyes went to the four Syndic battleships that had been chasing the Dreadnaught task force but had altered course to form a screen between the Alliance ships and the main Syndic formation.

It was as if Desjani read his mind. “Four battleships. We can take them.”

“If we do it right.” He looked at the position of the Alliance battleships, coming on steadily but over an hour behind the battle cruisers. Fuel-cell reserves were dwindling on every ship. Geary focused on Rifle, now at 6 percent reserves, the lowest in the fleet. “I should have left Rifle at the jump point.”

“Her crew would never have forgiven you.”

He set up the approach carefully, adjusting the battle cruisers so they seemed to be heading straight for a clash with the Syndic box, bringing the battleships’ vector over a little so they’d reach the Syndics at the right time, finding the right point at which to change course again.

“How much longer?” Rione asked. She’d been sitting so quietly for so long that it was easy to forget she was there at the back of the bridge.

“The Syndics are coming at us now,” Geary explained “Two hours, forty minutes to contact, give or take a few. They’ll get their surprise at two hours, twenty minutes.”

“They may expect it,” Desjani pointed out. “Dreadnaught’s been doing the same thing.”

“Good point. We’ll dodge in an unusual way.”

At one hour from contact, the Dreadnaught task force had altered course to close the four Syndic battleships, which in turn had come around to confront the small Alliance task force. With Dreadnaught only about fifteen light-minutes distant, Geary sent more orders. “Captain Geary, this is… Captain Geary. Avoid closing on the four Syndic battleships at this time. We’re coming that way and will see if we can even up the odds for you.”

No acknowledgment came back even though the transit times for messages between Dreadnaught and Dauntless were only fifteen minutes each way now. With less than half an hour to contact with the Syndic reserve flotilla, Geary couldn’t spend time worrying about whether or not Jane Geary would do as directed. “All units in Alliance formation Indigo One. We’re going to bypass the main Syndic formation this time, hit those four battleships, then come back and hit the flotilla. Save your remaining expendable munitions for the firing pass against the flotilla.”

Twenty minutes to contact, the Syndic reserve flotilla and the Alliance battle cruisers were only four light-minutes apart as they tore toward each other at a combined pace of point two light speed, the Syndics having cut their velocity to point six light speed to keep relativistic distortion from reducing their chances of hitting the Alliance warships. Geary waited, not yet happy with the maneuvering solution. Fifteen minutes to contact. Ten minutes. “All units in Formation Indigo One, turn port two zero degrees, down one five degrees at time zero four zero nine.”

The Alliance battle cruisers and their escorts yawed left, away from the star Varandal, and down, aiming below the plane of the star system. It had literally taken a minute for the Syndics to see the light showing the Alliance fleet dodging, by which time the two forces were less than seven minutes from contact. Geary tapped his controls again. “All units in Formation Indigo One, turn up two zero degrees at time zero four one three.”

The Syndics would be altering course themselves, angling down and to the side to intercept the Alliance battle cruisers, but the battle cruisers were already bending their track upward as the minutes to contact spiraled down to seconds. “The Syndics have fired missiles and grapeshot,” the combat-systems watch reported.

The Syndic firing pattern had been aimed at where the Alliance force was going, and had assumed that if they evaded further, it would be to continue downward at a steeper rate. As a result, the Syndic weapons shot by well beneath the Alliance battle cruisers as Geary leveled them out again, aimed at the four isolated Syndic battleships.

Behind the Alliance battle cruisers, the Syndic flotilla’s box began coming around so hard that a light cruiser suddenly came apart under the stress as its inertial compensators overloaded.

“Make them mad, make them stupid,” Desjani commented. “You know, not too long ago I would have been really upset at just playing tag with these guys instead of hitting them head-on, but imagining what that Syndic CEO is saying right now is great compensation.”

“Thanks.” The four Syndic battleships would be waking up to their peril right now, realizing that twelve battle cruisers were coming straight for them from one angle while the Dreadnaught task force was boring in from the opposite direction as well. “This is what happens when a commander keeps compromising in an attempt to follow an original plan even though the situation is changing drastically. That CEO never should have split his forces that way instead of focusing on either us or the Dreadnaught task force.”

The Syndic reserve flotilla was still coming around fifteen minutes later when the Alliance battle cruisers braked heavily down to point one light speed and swept past the four Syndic battleships, hammering the closest battleships with repeated volleys of hell lances, followed by null fields from the rearmost battle cruisers.

“Two down,” Desjani announced triumphantly as one of the Syndic battleships exploded and the second drifted helpless. Dauntless was still shaking from several hits on her shields. Despite the overwhelming local superiority in Alliance firepower, Leviathan, Implacable, and Brilliant had taken significant damage, too. “Dreadnaught, the other two battleships are yours for now,” Geary sent as he brought the Alliance battle cruisers around again.

As the battle cruisers steadied out on a vector aimed at the Syndic reserve flotilla’s box, which was coming back toward them at a full point one light speed, an alarm sounded on Dauntless’s bridge.

“Captain, we just hit ten percent on fuel-cell reserves,” the engineering watch reported. “The ship’s maneuvering and combat systems are recommending we disengage and refuel immediately.”

“Why didn’t I think of that?” Desjani remarked sarcastically. “The systems’ recommendation is noted.”

“Uh, Captain, the systems are warning that if their recommendation is disregarded they will enter an automatic note in the log that the commanding officer is hazarding the ship.”

“Tell the systems where they can stick their warning, Lieutenant.”

“Captain? How—?”

“Use the override!” Desjani glanced at Geary. “You might want to try wrapping up this battle before too much longer.”

“I’ll see what I can do.” Ahead, the Syndic reserve flotilla was coming on fast. Behind the Syndic box, the Alliance battleship formation was closing the distance to the engagement.

“The Dreadnaught task force is engaging the two isolated Syndic battleships, but they’re trying to rejoin the main Syndic formation.”

The Syndic box still contained ten battleships and eleven battle cruisers, though two of the battle cruisers had taken beatings earlier. Six of the battleships were in the center, around the remaining heavy cruisers, with the other four posted one to a corner along with either two or three battle cruisers. Judging from the movements of the Syndic flotilla, which showed that its commander was angry and frustrated enough to be reckless and impulsive, Geary duplicated his previous dodge down and to the left, but then brought the battle cruisers up and right enough to aim for where a corner of the Syndic box should pass if its commander assumed the Alliance ships were trying the same maneuver. The maneuver worked, the Syndic missiles and grapeshot this time passing over the track of the Alliance battle cruisers as they flashed into contact with a corner of the Syndic box anchored on one battleship and two battle cruisers.

The opposing forces shot past each other in a fraction of a second, automated systems aiming and firing. As they drew apart again, Geary saw that the two Syndic battle cruisers were out of action and the battleship significantly damaged.

It took him a second longer to notice the gap in the Alliance formation. The gap where Furious had been. Back where the forces had engaged, a spreading cloud of fragments marked her remains. Desjani’s voice came out flat. “They must have concentrated their fire on Furious. She suffered a core overload. Nobody could have gotten off. Damn.”

For a moment Geary had visions of Captain Jaylen Cresida as he’d first seen her, in the Syndic home system, unhesitatingly backing him against the opposition and doubts of others, and as he’d last seen her in Atalia, with the design she’d created to save humanity from its own follies in building the hypernet without understanding the risks posed by the gates.

Then he shook it off. Not now. There’d be time to grieve later. “Dragon is seriously damaged, and Implacable took more hits.” Eleven battle cruisers left and half of them with seriously degraded capability owing to damage.

Geary’s eyes went to his battleships, one light-minute distant as the Syndic box came around again. Eighteen of them, with plenty of escorts. His mind worked instinctively to adjust the vector of the battleships given the small time delay remaining between them and Dauntless. “Formation Indigo Two, come right zero zero three degrees, down zero two degrees.”

The Syndic flotilla commander, focused on the Alliance battle cruisers, must have been rudely shocked when he or she realized that the Alliance battleships had reached the engagement. The Syndic box had barely steadied out to pursue the Alliance battle cruisers again when the Alliance battleships went through one side of it, their massive firepower ripping into the two Syndic battleships and six Syndic battle cruisers anchoring the flotilla there.

In the wake of the Alliance battleships, all eight Syndic capital ships were knocked out, some of the battle cruisers literally blown apart in vengeful counterpoint to the fate of Furious. But Geary’s jubilation was cut short by a report from the operations watch. “Rifle has exhausted her fuel cells. Her power core has shut down. Culverin’s power core has begun shutting down. The rest of the Twenty-third Destroyer Squadron has less than five minutes’ power estimated remaining. The ships of the Eighth Light Cruiser Squadron report fuel-cell exhaustion and power-core shutdowns imminent.”

On the display, the two Alliance destroyers were drifting, their primary systems off, helpless. “How long can the emergency backups maintain life support?” Geary asked.

“Twelve hours,” Desjani replied immediately. “I thought we might need to know that. This engagement should be decided before then.”

“Damn right.” He ordered the battleships back around, watching their formation shed increasing numbers of power-deprived destroyers and light cruisers, whose momentum was carrying them along the former track of the Alliance ships.

He felt everyone’s eyes on him, and he didn’t have to view the fleet-status readout to know how close his battle cruisers and battleships were to running out of fuel cells, too. At that point the Alliance’s advantage in numbers would be meaningless as almost all of its ships in Varandal would be sitting ducks. The Syndics were between the Alliance battle cruisers and the Alliance battleships now, the battle cruisers between the Syndics and the jump point for Atalia, but the Syndics weren’t making any major course alterations, just trying to re-form their flotilla’s box after its side had been smashed in.

“They have to know we’re running out of fuel cells,” Desjani muttered.

“They’ve only seen escorts run out. We have to make them think our capital ships still have plenty of reserves.” Geary punched his controls. “Formation Indigo One, immediate execute come left one nine zero degrees, up zero one two degrees, accelerate to point zero six light speed.” Dauntless’s structure groaned as the ship whipped around in as tight a turn as the inertial compensators could handle. All around her, the remaining Alliance battle cruisers followed suit, steadying out aimed at the still-ragged side of the Syndic box. “Concentrate fire on the leading Syndic ships!”

They blew past the edge of the Syndics, Dauntless shuddering again from hits. “Valiant reports heavy damage. Daring has lost all weapons but hell-lance battery three bravo and her null-field generator. Implacable has lost propulsion and maneuvering control.”

Geary kept his eyes on the display, watching the results of the latest firing pass. One of the surviving Syndic battleships had been pounded into scrap, and the single Syndic battle cruiser wearing toward that side of the formation was gone.

The Alliance battleships were coming around, Geary’s display flashing warnings about their low fuel-cell reserves, but to all external appearances still a hammer ready to bludgeon the Syndics again. The Alliance battle cruisers, now on the same side of the Syndics as the battleship formation, kept on toward the Alliance battleships as more light cruisers and destroyers fell away not from damage but from core shutdowns. Dreadnaught, Dependable, and Intemperate were only two light-minutes distant now, but though they had plenty of fuel-cell reserves, all three ships had suffered from their earlier encounters with the enemy.

Another alert pulsed. Geary’s eyes went to the flashing symbol on his display. “Friendly ships at the jump point from Atalia. We just got light showing the arrival of the Illustrious task force.” He looked back at the Syndics, waiting to see their reactions.

They swung a short way right, then accelerated, leaving some crippled ships behind to spit out escape pods. “They’re running.” Desjani was grinning. “They saw the ships with Illustrious but haven’t evaluated how damaged they are. The Syndics just saw more Alliance battleships and battle cruisers arriving, they see us behind them looking ready to kick their butts again and positioned between them and the hypernet gate, and they’re running.”

He couldn’t believe it, watching to see if the Syndics turned again, but they kept going, accelerating as fast as they could. Seven Syndic battleships and two battle cruisers, with their surviving escorts, heading for the jump point for Atalia like bats out of hell.

“Tenth Light Cruiser Squadron and Third Destroyer Squadron report all ships reaching fuel-cell exhaustion. Heavy cruiser Camail reports fuel-cell exhaustion.”

Desjani began laughing, and Geary looked at her in amazement.

She was pointing to her ship’s fuel-cell reserve status, which was fluctuating between 1 and 2 percent. Abruptly Desjani stopped laughing and made an abortive lunge toward him, then caught herself, made a fist, and swung a punch onto Geary’s shoulder. “You did it! By the grace of the living stars you did it!”

“We did it,” Geary corrected, rubbing his shoulder and suddenly feeling on the verge of hysterical laughter himself. “Everyone in this fleet.” He became aware of cheers resonating through Dauntless’s hull. The crew celebrating.

For a moment Geary felt his memories of Merlon’s last moments crowding in again. He hadn’t been able to save his heavy cruiser, he hadn’t been able to get her crew home. No matter what anyone else said of the battle at Grendel, long ago for them and all too recent for him, he had always felt that he had failed. Failed his ship. Failed his crew. But not this time.

“Sir?” Desjani asked, still grinning but now puzzled as she looked at him. “Is something wrong?”

He smiled back. “No, Tanya. I was just remembering something.” Somehow he knew that even if the flashbacks to Merlon’s last moments came again, they would never hold the same pain.

“Captain?” the operations watch reported. “There are three fast transports towing some construction platforms on their way toward the hypernet gate.”

Desjani sobered, taking a deep breath. “Captain Cresida’s safe-fail system. They’re getting it installed. May your ancestors welcome you with the honor you deserve, Jaylen. Say hello to Roge for me.”

“Her husband?” Geary asked, trying to control his voice. The stress and emotions of the moment, good and bad, felt almost overwhelming.

“Yeah. Ever since he died she’d always been sure he’d be waiting for her.” Desjani wiped one eye with a rough gesture and turned to her watch-standers. “Initiate maximum energy conservation measures until we get more fuel cells aboard.”

Stung into remembering more critical tasks left to do immediately, Geary hit his controls. “All units in the Alliance fleet, brake down velocity as much as possible without going below one percent fuel reserves.”

He called up another circuit. “All Alliance assets within Varandal Star System, this is Captain John Geary, acting commander of the Alliance fleet. The fleet’s ships are extremely low on fuel cells. Some of our ships have already been forced to shut down their power cores. Request all available assets assist in providing fuel cells to the fleet’s ships on a maximum-priority basis. To the honor of our ancestors. Geary out.”

Another message. “Dreadnaught, shadow the retreating Syndics with your task force.” Dreadnaught wouldn’t be able to catch the Syndics with the lead the fleeing enemy had, but it wouldn’t hurt to keep the Syndics under a little pressure.

One more. “Captain Badaya, the Syndics are fleeing toward the Atalia jump point. They may try to sweep you up on their way out. Avoid contact with them. We’ll get them all another day, and I want the ships with you along with the fleet when we do.”

Rione had been sitting still, staring blankly before her, but she finally came out of her daze, looking at Geary as if not sure what she was seeing. “Congratulations. The fight’s not over, but you’ve already done the impossible.”

The war wasn’t over, but the Lost Fleet was home.

GEARY stood in his stateroom, facing the display now centered on Varandal, the ships of the fleet orbiting in a swarm about the star. For the first time since he’d assumed command of the fleet, it was in friendly territory with no immediate threat to its existence. The planets and cities and facilities he saw would help the fleet, not pose a danger to it.

Twenty-four hours had made a big difference. Two hours ago the retreating Syndics had jumped out of Varandal, still running as if the demon from inside a black hole was pursuing them. While the Syndics still fled, in the wake of Geary’s message for assistance, spacecraft of all types had swarmed out from Varandal’s worlds, colonies, and orbital facilities hauling whatever fuel cells they could carry. Now none of his ships were in danger of running out of fuel cells, and those that had run out were powered up again. The most badly damaged warships were already reaching the extensive space docks and repair facilities Varandal boasted.

He felt a heaviness inside thinking about the warships and sailors who had died on the very threshold of home. Furious hadn’t been the only loss, though it had struck him most deeply. The heavy cruisers Kaidate and Quillion had sustained too much damage to be saved, the light cruisers Estocade, Disarm, and Cavalier had been blown apart during the battle cruisers’ firing passes against the Syndics, and the destroyers Serpentine, Basilisk, Bowie, Guidon, and Sten had either been shattered or exploded during the engagement. Those had just been the ships attached to the fleet, not counting those that had died in the earlier defensive battles at Varandal and alongside Dreadnaught. And it didn’t include the sailors killed or wounded on ships that had “only” been damaged during the battle. Numerous other warships would only be saved because they had been so badly hurt in friendly space. But the fleet was home. Not exactly safe, and too many ships, men, and women had been lost along the way, but it was home.

There’d been a time when he’d imagined this moment and seen himself gratefully relinquishing command of the fleet. Exactly what he would have done then had always been vague. Aside from a wistful desire to see the planet Kosatka again, Geary hadn’t had any idea where he might find any peace or refuge from the legend of Black Jack.

That had changed. He’d seen where duty led, where honor required him to go, and he’d sworn an oath to someone who mattered a great deal to him. He could still try to walk away from it, try to leave behind his concepts of honor and duty, cast aside his promise. But if he did, the killing would surely go on, the war would continue as it had for decade upon decade, and he would lose the one thing, the one person, whose presence made this hard and violent future a place where he nonetheless wanted to be. Looked at that way, the decision wasn’t all that hard. Perhaps he was being delusional, suffering from the Geary Syndrome doctors had defined in decades past, believing only he could save the Alliance. But people he trusted told him he was the only one with a chance to end the war. He believed them in everything else. He had no choice but to believe them in this.

So he looked on the fleet and wondered if he could retain command of it and convince his superiors of what needed to be done.

“It was worse than I feared,” Rione was saying. “My contacts here say that in the last few months, as the Syndics broadcast claims that they’d destroyed the fleet and word leaked out that the fleet actually was presumed lost in enemy territory, civil disobedience and demonstrations erupted in a great many star systems. The people of the Alliance are losing hope.” She paused. “They were losing hope. If Varandal is any measure, your return with the fleet is generating tremendous optimism.”

“Great.” He remembered some of the public newscasts he’d seen relayed from the cities on Varandal’s inhabited worlds, happy faces declaring the latest information they’d been able to acquire. Officially, the military and the government refuse to confirm anything, but our contacts within the fleet have assured us that the rumors are true! Black Jack has returned just as legend foretold! He saved the fleet! He saved Varandal! Can he save the Alliance as well? After his miraculous return, anything seems possible for the hero of the Alliance!

Followed by images of tense official spokespersons. The government has nothing to add at this time. What about the messages Captain Geary transmitted during the fight with the Syndics at Varandal?

The government has no comment at this time.

What about the statements from Syndic prisoners from the flotilla that attacked Varandal that Black Jack Geary led the fleet through the heart of the Syndicate Worlds and almost totally destroyed their naval forces?

The government will provide more information when it is available. The broadcast from the fleet about the threat posed by hypernet gates has caused considerable concern. Can you confirm that the safe-fail system described in it has been installed at Varandal?

The hypernet gate at Varandal is safe. For security reasons we cannot provide any further details. Observations of the hypernet gate here do reveal that some new equipment has been very recently installed. Can you comment on that?

No. The hypernet gate is safe.

“Why doesn’t the government just admit what everybody knows?” Geary asked. “This way they just look stupid.”

“Governments often end up looking stupid when they try to control information. I hope you’re not expecting me to defend their approach this time. Given the number of ships that have left Varandal by jump and hypernet since your arrival, the news must be spreading at a phenomenal rate. And it is good news,” Rione insisted. “The Alliance needs hope, and you embody that hope. Don’t bother looking annoyed. You know it’s true, no matter how irrational you think it is. By definition, hope usually is irrational.”

“I guess I can’t complain about that, considering what I intend proposing to the government,” Geary admitted. “I’m not sure it qualifies as rational.”

“Are you still planning on asking for permission to lead the fleet back to the Syndic home star system?”

“Yes, when I get somebody to talk to me.” Geary turned to look at her. “Any idea how long that will be?”

“It’s hard to say.” Rione appeared thoughtful. “It’s possible the grand council itself will come here to speak with you.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“No, it’s not.” She exhaled in exasperation. “You’re more powerful than they are. You have to realize that and yet not act as if it is true. They need to see you, hear you in person, decide if you’re a threat to the Alliance or its deliverance. If the grand council comes here, you and I can convince them that you’re not that threat and get approval for the attack on the Syndics. Even I can see that your plan isn’t irrational. I thought Bloch’s plan was unlikely to succeed, but after all of the damage inflicted on the Syndics, if you can get approval within a short time to strike at the heads of the Syndicate Worlds, there’s a chance we might decapitate the beast. But it has to be soon, and it has to be a swift victory. If it’s drawn out long enough for the Syndics to rebuild their own force of warships, I foresee renewed stalemate until both governments collapse.”

Geary nodded. “That’s a real possibility. How do you think they’ll take the news of the aliens?”

“Poorly. But we have strong evidence. They’ll understand that we need to deal with the aliens as well as the Syndics, and as soon as possible. We have no idea what other attractive traps the aliens could come up with.”

“The aliens have to know that another Kalixa will cost them dearly, and I wouldn’t mind making them pay for Kalixa. I’ll do my best to convince our leaders, then win that victory over the Syndics so we can go have a firm talk backed up by substantial firepower with the aliens.”

“If recent history is any measure, your best may well suffice.” Rione turned to leave, but as she opened the hatch Desjani was just arriving. The two women passed with impassive glances and no words.

“Captain Geary.” Desjani walked to his comm panel and activated it. “You’ll recall those garbled messages I didn’t want you to be bothered with. One came through clearly a short time ago.” She punched receive, and Geary saw an admiral with an outwardly placid expression but nervous eyes gazing out.

“This is Admiral Timbale with a personal communication for Captain John Geary. Everyone in Varandal and the Alliance is naturally overjoyed at your return with the fleet. Overjoyed and… uh… astounded.” The admiral hastily looked slightly to one side.

“He got off script,” Desjani murmured.

Geary gave her a sardonic look. “Just how did you happen to see a message marked personal for me?”

“I’m the captain of this ship,” she reminded him. “That doesn’t make me a god within the confines of Dauntless, but it’s damned close to that. You’d better listen to the admiral.”

“You are to remain in command of the fleet until further notice,” Admiral Timbale continued. “Those warships in Varandal not previously assigned to the fleet are hereby officially transferred to your control.”

The admiral flashed an anxious smile. “You have full authority and top priority for arranging resupply and repair of your… of the fleet’s ships.”

The admiral hesitated again for a moment. “In light of your many responsibilities at the moment and the continuing imminent attack alert within Varandal, the normal courtesy call on your superior officer is waived. I’ll let you know when we can arrange a meeting. Until then, I hope Varandal can provide everything the fleet needs. Timbale, out.”

Geary frowned at the comm panel. “He doesn’t want to meet with me?”

“He’s probably afraid to,” Desjani remarked. “If he does, he might be accused of plotting with you to overthrow the government. Or he’s afraid you might ask his help in that. Or demand it. Or he might offer his support for a coup and find out that Black Jack’s loyalty to the Alliance wasn’t overstated at all. Avoiding meeting with you and avoiding talking to you is far safer for him.”

“Hell. After all the times I didn’t want to deal with admirals and had to, now when I need to talk to one, he won’t talk to me. Is Timbale the senior admiral at Varandal?”

“He’s the only admiral left at Varandal,” Desjani explained. “As you’ll recall, the battles at Atalia and here before we arrived were pretty hard on the admirals commanding the Alliance warships. Tagos died at Atalia and Tethys here. That just leaves Timbale.”

“Tagos, Tethys, and Timbale all assigned to Varandal,” Geary grumbled. “Why do I suspect the personnel assignment bureau was playing one of its silly games again? Do they still do that?”

“They do.” She rolled her eyes. “One ship a few years back kept getting officers with the same last name. More than once I’ve vowed that if the war ever ended, I’d drop big rocks on the personnel bureau on my way home.”

“I’ll help.”

Desjani waved at the display. “At least you’ve formally picked up some new ships. Not many escorts survived among the Varandal defenders, but you’ve got two more battleships now and another battle cruiser. Dreadnaught, Dependable, and Intemperate are all beat to hell, but that just means they’ll fit in with the rest of the fleet.”

“Yeah, I guess they will. If I can’t talk to any admirals, at least with these orders we can get the fleet back in shape as fast as possible. Can I oversee that with the automated systems available?”

Desjani shook her head. “That’s too many worms crawling in too many directions. Just tracking repairs on the capital ships is going to be hard. Keeping a handle on work being done on the destroyers is going to be a nightmare given how many there are and how little time we have. Even with every automated assistant available, you’ll still need human assistance in tracking things. I recommend drawing on some of the engineering officers on the auxiliaries, but with Dauntless not facing the immediate prospect of battle, I can second you a few officers to help out here.”

“That won’t be a problem?”

“Not at all, sir,” Desjani assured him. “My junior officers love extra challenges.” The edges of her lips quivered, but she managed to suppress a smile.

“I bet they do. I know how much I loved them when I was a junior officer.” Geary stared at the stars, trying to get his mind around everything that needed to be done. “Is there anything else?”

“We’ve confirmed that a basic form of Captain Cresida’s safe-fail system has been installed already on the hypernet gate here. The more sophisticated version is being prepared. We can’t know how the information package Cresida put together is being received in other star systems, but the quick response here is a good sign. The safe-fail design should be spreading exponentially through the hypernet, and from what we’ve seen in public sources within this star system the images from Lakota are scaring the hell out of people.”

“Good. Very good. What about the Syndic hypernet key?”

“It’s off Dauntless and was delivered to a key-fabrication facility on the habitable world here. They should be duplicating it as we speak.”

He shook his head. “I can’t believe we got it here. But we’re going to need that Syndic hypernet key.”

“Which is why we’re going to get it back,” Desjani added, earning an approving look from Geary. “Once all of the manufacturing data has been confirmed, they’ll be returning the Syndic hypernet key to Dauntless. Estimated time to return is thirty-six hours. We won’t have to keep its location on board a secret anymore, because the Alliance will be able to build as many copies as we want. But we’ll have the original again.”

“That’s great. I was afraid I’d have to kick up a storm to get the thing back.” He looked down, steeling himself for the next question. “There haven’t been any other messages for me?”

“No, sir. The only messages we’ve received from Dreadnaught were official status updates. Sir.” Geary glanced over at her. “She needs time. Jane Geary has to adjust to everything. Then she’ll respond to your personal messages.”

He closed his eyes for a moment. “We may not have a lot of time.”

“Everyone knows that, including her. Remember that Michael Geary had weeks to learn to deal with the fact that you were still alive before you first spoke with him.”

Geary opened his eyes but kept them on the stars. “And he still hated me.”

“Not at the end! You told me that. I have had communications from Dreadnaught monitored in a few unauthorized ways, and I know her commanding officer has been contacting some of the other commanding officers in this fleet. Officers whom Jane Geary knows. Officers whom know you. They’ll be telling her about you, about who you really are. Give her time, and she will contact you.”

“Those other officers are telling her that I left her brother in the Syndic home star system, and that he’s likely dead.”

Desjani took a step closer, her voice getting sharper. “Jane Geary is a fleet officer. She knew the risks as well as the rest of us, the same risks we all run. She can’t blame you for her brother’s death in combat, if that happened.”

He breathed a short, sad laugh. “You’re assuming she’s going to address the issue logically.”

“And may the living stars forbid that any Geary act logically!” Desjani shook her head. “Biologically you’re younger than she is even though you’re her great-uncle. You’re the mountain that has shadowed her entire life. Give her time. ”

“Okay. It’s not like I won’t have plenty to keep me busy while I wait.”

“That’s right.” Desjani looked around. “Do you want me to bring the junior officers to your stateroom so you can start coordinating repair and resupply activity? There’s room here.”

“Sure. How soon?”

“Give me half an hour to find a couple of junior officers who seem underemployed.” She studied him for a moment. “Have you prayed to your ancestors yet on Jaylen Cresida’s behalf?”

Geary felt a stab of guilt. With so much else going on, that had kept being forgotten or pushed aside.

“Not formally, no.”

“Why don’t you go down to the places of worship and do that while you’re waiting for me to get back here?”

The suggestion sounded more like an order, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t a good idea and an overdue obligation. For Jaylen Cresida in particular, and for a lot of other sailors who had fallen in this latest engagement. “Yes. I’ll do that.” He headed for the hatch along with her. Desjani faced him before walking away, though. “We’re still going back, right?”

“As soon as we can,” Geary agreed. “If I can get approval for it.” He remembered Rione’s words, which summarized the situation perfectly. “We have to win swiftly, or we won’t win at all.”

“Then we’ll win swiftly.”

“Yeah. We will.”

Or die trying.