Victorious

FOUR

Four days later, the Alliance fleet flashed back into normal space at the jump point on the fringes of the Syndicate Worlds-controlled Atalia Star System.

“What the hell?” was Geary’s first response as the fleet’s sensors updated the situation.

No mines blocked their exit from the jump point, no powerful flotilla of warships waited nearby or cruised in distant orbit about the star Atalia, but only four light-minutes distant a large gaggle of Syndic merchant ships hung at rest relative to the jump point as if they were awaiting the Alliance warships.

Desjani, frowning in disbelief, turned to bark out orders to the bridge watch-standers. “Find out everything you can about those merchant ships.”

“Captain,” the operations watch-stander reported, “every one of those merchant ships has smaller craft hanging on them, up to twenty on the larger ones.”

“Mother ships.” Geary waited impatiently for more detailed reports from the sensors’ examination of the enemy craft. “Carrying what?”

“Those things are too big to be missiles,” Desjani commented. Then her eyes widened in recognition. “Damn. They’re—”

“Syndic fast attack craft,” the operations watch-stander reported triumphantly.

“They’re sending FACs against us?” Desjani seemed almost horrified, but not as if she feared the news. “Against this many warships in open space?”

“FACs?” Geary hastily read as a description popped up on his display, and understanding came. “They look like they’re pretty much the same as the SRACs a hundred years ago.”

“SRACs?” Desjani asked.

“Short-range attack craft. Those were only intended for operations very close to planets or other major space objects because of their limited range and capabilities.”

“Then they’re effectively the same thing,” Desjani confirmed. “Out here, unable to dart into atmosphere or behind a planet, they’re going to have problems.”

Problems indeed. Geary hurriedly studied the capabilities of the FACs. At point one light speed, the Alliance fleet only required forty minutes to cover four light-minutes of distance. Ten minutes had already passed, and he had to assume that the FACs would launch as soon as possible, then would speed toward the Alliance ships, further reducing the time until contact.

Like the SRACs he had known, these FACs were small, carrying only one or two human crew members. In addition to a single hell-lance particle-beam projector with a slow recharge time, some models carried a single missile, while others had a couple of single-shot grapeshot launchers. Their armor was nonexistent, and their small power plants could support only weak shields. “Who the hell sent them on this suicide mission?”

“They must all be volunteers,” Desjani offered.

Alerts sounded as the fleet’s sensors spotted the FACs starting to launch from the improvised merchant mother ships three minutes ago. Looked at only in terms of numbers, the swarm of small craft seemed impressive.

Rione obviously thought so. “Can we handle this?”

“Easily,” Desjani muttered.

Geary nodded in agreement.

“But they’re smaller, faster, and more maneuverable,” Rione insisted.

“Smaller, yes,” Geary replied. “Faster and more maneuverable, no. Whoever came up with this plan must be primarily a planetary defense officer, who thought because FACs look sort of like atmospheric craft compared to space warships, that the physics would work the same as aircraft versus seagoing ships on planets with atmospheres and oceans. But those FACs aren’t operating in a much-less-dense medium than our ships, they’re operating in exactly the same medium, so it’s all about mass-to-thrust ratios. The FACs are small, but that means they’ve got small propulsion systems and small power plants. They’re certainly more maneuverable than battleships, but our destroyers have bigger propulsion units and better mass-to-thrust ratios.” On his display, the FACs had finished scrambling from the merchant ships and were accelerating toward the Alliance fleet.

Desjani shook her head, looking disgusted. “Any of those small craft that somehow survived this attack could never get home. They don’t have the fuel or life-support endurance. I hope the Syndic commander responsible for this is on one of those merchants.”

“He or she is probably a dozen light-years away,” Geary said. “How stealthy are these FACs?”

“Some capability, but they’re out here in the middle of nowhere, accelerating, and we watched them launched. The combat systems will have no trouble tracking them even after they—And there they went. Stealth systems on the FACs have gone active, and we’ve still got solid tracks on all of them.”

“Okay.” Geary spent a few more seconds watching the horde of FACs heading to intercept the Alliance fleet, then scrolled through some of the formations he had worked out before this and loaded into the maneuvering systems. After checking to confirm the time required for a message to reach the most distant unit in the current Alliance formation, he tapped his comm controls. “All units in the Alliance fleet, this is—” He’d almost said Captain Geary, but caught himself. “Admiral Geary. Execute Formation November at time four seven.”

Desjani glanced at him, pulled up the formation on her own display, then nodded. “It will do. But you should slow the formation a little to ensure as many kills on the FACs as possible.”

“Thanks. Do you think point zero eight light speed will be slow enough?”

After repeating the question to her combat-systems watch-stander and waiting for a swift answer, Desjani nodded again. “Yes, sir.”

Rione spoke with resignation. “If they’re doomed, do we have to destroy them and risk casualties of our own?”

“Yes,” Geary replied. “We can’t swing far enough to one side to evade missiles fired by that mass of FACs, which means the units on that flank would run risks of being hit by missiles on high-deflection run-ins, which are a lot harder to hit with defensive fire than low-deflection runs. I’d be particularly worried about some of the missiles targeting the auxiliaries as we went past the FACs.”

At time four seven, the current Alliance formation dissolved, the squadrons and divisions of warships proceeding to new stations relative to Dauntless. Geary waited until the fleet had formed into five rectangles, the broad sides facing in the directions of the fleet’s movement, the largest rectangle in the center, the four smaller rectangles only a short distance off each corner of the large one. To Geary’s aggravation, two of the new battle cruisers, one of the new battleships, and several smaller combatants ended up pushing far forward of their assigned stations. “Adroit, Assert, Insistent, Dungeon, Pavise, Demicontres, Halda, Tschekan, assume your ordered stations immediately.”

Unlike at Corvus and engagements soon after that, the bulk of the fleet held formation firmly, acting as a powerful example reinforcing Geary’s commands. Leaving only one eye to watch the errant warships, Geary put most of his attention on the movements of the fleet and the oncoming mass of FACs, which seemed to fill space ahead of the fleet. “All units in the Alliance fleet, brake velocity to point zero eight light speed at time zero nine, then brake to point zero four at time one two, then accelerate to point zero six light speed at time one five.”

“None of our ships can actually change velocity that fast,” Desjani noted.

“I know. But this will keep their velocity changing so much just prior to contact that the FACs’ targeting systems will be screwed up trying to estimate the time to fire their hell lances and grapeshot. I wouldn’t try it against other major warships because our formations are going to get disrupted by that many velocity changes on top of each other, but against the FACs, this tactic is supposed to work.” At least, that was what the official guidance against SRACs had said a century ago.

One more command to pass. “All units in the Alliance fleet, turn up zero three five degrees at time two four.” That would bring the fleet through the mob of FACs, then turn it upward to pass well above the merchant shipping.

“We’ll miss the merchants,” Desjani complained, then she gave him a knowing glance. “They’re too attractive. Too easy a target. They’re not trying to run even though they’ve finished launching the small craft.”

“Right. Are they just easy targets, or are they bait?” Geary shook his head. “I don’t trust anything about those merchant ships.”

The fleet began its braking maneuver, thrusters pushing the bows of the warships up and over so that their main propulsion units faced forward, followed by the propulsion units kicking in to slow the ships as fast as momentum, the power of the propulsion units, and the ships’ inertial dampers would allow. After the two braking maneuvers, and just prior to contact with the FACs, the warships would pivot again to reaccelerate, swinging their bows forward once more to meet the Syndic attack with their heaviest armor and firepower.

“Still coming straight at us,” Desjani commented.

Something about her casual, confident tone worried Geary. He tapped his controls again. “All units in the Alliance fleet, these FACs have only one punch, but that can be a powerful punch. Don’t underestimate them until they’ve been killed. All units conduct on-station evasive maneuvers immediately prior to contact with the FACs.” On-station told his ships not to veer too far from their assigned positions but allowed them to make the small changes in vectors that could further throw off attempts by the enemy fire-control systems to predict their future positions well enough to score hits during the fraction-of-a-second-long engagement envelopes.

More alerts sounded as the first FACs began firing missiles. Only one missile per FAC, and only perhaps half of the FACs carrying missiles, but that added up quickly when there were that many small craft coming at the fleet. “All ships, weapons free. Engage the missiles, then the fast attack craft.”

At short range, with the opposing forces closing swiftly, there wasn’t time for the enemy missiles to engage in their own evasive actions. Hell lances blazed from the Alliance warships, filling space with directed high-energy particle beams, which at close range punched through armor as if it were paper. Syndic missiles exploded prematurely or came apart under the hail of fire, then the surviving missiles began running into patterns of grapeshot. The clusters of metal ball bearings tore into oncoming missiles, each metal ball that struck a target vaporizing from the force of the impact. Struck by the shotgun blasts of massed grapeshot batteries, the remainder of the enemy missiles were blown apart as the Alliance fleet rushed into contact with the fast attack craft.

The sheer numbers of the attack craft could have made up for their frail defenses and limited armament, concentrating their individually weak firepower to hit larger ships again and again, but not under these conditions, not when facing a fleet of larger warships in formations in which the already greatly superior firepower of the warships overlapped and reinforced each other. FACs were supposed to engage small numbers of isolated warships, ideally one or two. Given the right conditions, near a planet or other base where the small craft could linger stealthily and silently while awaiting the approach of the enemy, enough FACs could even take down a battleship operating on its own, though probably while suffering serious losses as well.

These weren’t the right conditions.

Alliance destroyers were in their element against this kind of enemy, rampaging through the smaller, weaker FACs like hawks among a flock of sparrows, hell lances stabbing out as fast as they could fire to smash through the flimsy protection of the much smaller spacecraft. Light cruisers moved almost as nimbly among the destroyers, their heavier armaments taking out several small attack craft with each volley. Coming right behind the lighter escorts were the heavy cruisers, not so fast and maneuverable, but better protected and far outgunning the FACs. Against the Alliance warships, the FACs tried to focus their fire on single ships enough to overcome shields and armor, but with so many targets coming so fast, not enough hits could be scored on any one ship in time to make a difference.

The Alliance fleet formation merged with the swarm of fast attack craft at a combined velocity of almost point zero five light speed, the cloud of FACs evaporating as it merged with the warships like a flock of gnats running head-on into a massive land vehicle. Syndic small attack craft blew apart or spun away uncontrolled, with dead systems and crew. Due to sheer numbers, some of the small craft penetrated past the Alliance escorts, only to be instantly torn to pieces by the firepower of the battleships and battle cruisers.

The moment of contact and destruction of the horde of FACs happened almost too quickly for it to register on human senses, then the Alliance fleet was through the enemy and following Geary’s command to turn sharply upward, “up” being defined by humans as the direction above the plane of the star system, just as “down” was beneath the plane of the star system. Geary studied his fleet status display anxiously, aware that collisions with FACs or a lucky barrage of hits could have done significant damage to or even destroyed one of his escorts. The status reports were still updating, showing weakened shields and occasional hits on destroyers or light cruisers, when something else caught his attention. “Dungeon, return to formation immediately! Alter your track to avoid those merchant ships!”

Unlike the rest of the fleet, the lone heavy cruiser had continued onward instead of altering her course upward, and was now heading straight into the mass of Syndic merchant ships waiting silently along the path the fleet would have taken. Geary waited as seconds passed, having flashbacks to the senseless loss of a cruiser and three destroyers to a minefield at Sutrah.

Dungeon’s reply finally came, her captain sounding baffled. “We’re going to let these Syndic ships escape?”

“It’s a trap!” Geary called back immediately. “Use your head! They’re not trying to run, and there are no escape pods leaving those merchants! They had no crews embarked, just the pilots of those FACs, and they’re probably rigged as booby traps. Get your ship clear now!”

Seconds later, Dungeon finally began pulling up, her course vectors altering oh-so-slowly toward the rest of the fleet, while momentum still carried her closer to the merchants.

Desjani was watching the heavy cruiser’s progress silently, her face an emotionless mask, doubtless also remembering Sutrah.

“Ten seconds to closest-point-of-approach for Dungeon to the nearest merchant ships,” the operations watch reported.

“They’re lighting off their propulsion systems,” Desjani said an instant later. The merchants’ propulsion systems had kicked in, thrusters pushing the clumsy vessels up, aiming to try to intercept the Alliance fleet, which would pass over them. “They all lit off at about the same time. It must be automated controls with all the merchant ships slaved together. No bunch of civilians could have managed that coordinated an action.”

“Even if a bunch of civilians were willing to charge at this fleet,” Geary agreed, his eyes on the seconds counting down for Dungeon to clear the merchant ships.

Given the light-seconds separating the rest of the fleet from Dungeon and the merchant ships, they saw the explosions three seconds after they’d taken place. “The two merchant ships closest to Dungeon’s track have suffered core overloads,” the operations watch reported. “Assess that Dungeon will be within the outer limits of the danger area and may sustain damage.”

“They thought they could use your own trick against you?” Desjani complained.

“Maybe they thought someone else might be in command, or else that Admiral Geary had grown complacent,” Rione replied.

Whatever the reason, the Syndics had modified the improvised ship minefield Geary had used at Lakota. “That’s not a bad idea,” he commented, “putting their ships under automated controls to close on their targets if the targets aren’t coming to them. We need to keep an eye out for that kind of tactic happening again.”

“Even the Syndics wouldn’t throw away functioning warships that way,” Desjani said. “But from now on, I am going to be inclined to shoot first if any merchant ship tries to get close.” She frowned at her display. “Lieutenant Yuon,” Desjani called to one of the watch-standers, “those Syndic core overloads seemed much more powerful than they should have been. Find out how much the Syndics have boosted the power of those explosions and get an estimate of how they did it.” She gave Geary a warning look. “If we get within hell-lance range, we might be close enough for those things to damage some of our ships.”

“Concur. Let’s not take chances.” He had developed a hesitation to use specter missiles as the fleet’s supply dwindled during the long retreat home, but the fleet’s missile magazines had been topped off at Varandal, and missiles were clearly what was called for here. Still, merchants only had shields good enough to block radiation, no armor, no defenses, and these merchant ships were lumbering along easily predictable, smooth vectors aimed at trying to intercept the Alliance warships. It was the work of a couple of seconds to ask the fleet combat systems to assign one missile each from enough warships to engage each merchant ship with the single specter, which would be all that was needed to destroy it. But before Geary could tap the execute command, a delighted laugh from Desjani drew his attention.

“The Syndics packed the formation too tight,” she explained. “It would have been more effective if we’d run straight into them, but as it is …” Desjani laughed again and waved at her display.

The two merchant ships that had destroyed themselves with core overloads had been close enough to some of the other merchant ships for the blast effects to trigger core overloads in the other ships as well. As those merchant ships blew, they took out more of their neighbors, whose own core overloads set off even more destruction in the ships close to them.

An expanding wave of destruction was unfurling through the mass of Syndic merchant ships as the Syndic minefield obliterated itself in a flurry of fratricide. “I guess we can save our missiles,” Geary commented, then his satisfaction at watching the self-elimination of the Syndic booby trap vanished as Dungeon staggered out of the edges of the zone of destruction created by the core overloads of the first two Syndic merchant ships. Geary bit back a curse as he saw automated damage status reports coming in from Dungeon. By the time Dungeon had become aware of the explosions, it was too late to react, and the heavy cruiser had taken the brunt of the blasts on one side of her stern. Geary hit his comm controls harder than he had to. “Dungeon, I need a full damage report and estimated time of repair to your damaged propulsion units as soon as possible.” Switching circuits, he made a call to Tanuki.

Captain Smyth, who at Varandal had assumed command of the auxiliaries division from a visibly relieved Captain Tyrosian, answered several seconds later. “Yes, Admiral?”

“I need your assessment and repair estimate for the damage to Dungeon,” Geary explained. “Initial reports indicate the damage to most of her propulsion units is too severe for Dungeon to fix herself. If that’s the case, I want to know how long it would take to get enough of her propulsion units back online so she can keep up with the fleet.”

“Certainly,” Captain Smyth answered cheerily. “I’ll get back to you.”

“Casual attitude, even for an engineer,” Desjani commented.

“True,” Geary agreed. “But he seems ready and willing to follow orders. Tyrosian did an okay job as division commander, but she never enjoyed it and seemed overwhelmed at times.”

“That’s putting it mildly.”

“Captain?” Lieutenant Yuon reported. “The core overloads were about fifty percent stronger than merchant-ship core overloads should have generated. Analysis indicates the Syndics packed the merchant cargo containers with explosives and accelerants of various kinds.”

“They wanted to get us while we thought we were outside the danger area,” Desjani commented. “That won’t be a problem now.” She smiled as the Syndic merchant ships at the far edges of the improvised minefield blew themselves apart as the wave of destruction reached them, leaving only an expanding field of debris where the large group of merchant ships had once been. “Lovely, isn’t it? The only thing better than blowing away Syndic warships is watching Syndic ships blowing away each other.”

Geary just smiled back at her briefly, then focused on the rest of the situation. The Alliance warships were well clear of the debris field and opening the distance. Dungeon was far too close to the danger area but should be able to avoid being caught again. Now that he’d dealt with the Syndic forces near the jump exit, he could take the time to evaluate other Syndic defenses in Atalia.

There wasn’t much else. As a front-line star system, Atalia had been fought over repeatedly for the last century, defenses in fixed orbits cratered or blown apart as fast as they could be constructed. Since the last time the Alliance fleet was there, a short while ago, the Syndics had thrown together a variety of fixed defenses like rail guns mounted on moons, asteroids, and a new orbital fort. In addition, a few Syndic Hunter-Killers, roughly similar to but smaller than Alliance destroyers, hung around the two other jump points Atalia boasted. One jump point led back to Padronis, a white dwarf star with nothing to commend it, and the other to the ruined star system of Kalixa. In about four more hours, once the Syndic HuKs saw the light announcing the arrival of the Alliance fleet, one of them would undoubtedly jump out to carry the news of the Alliance fleet’s movements to other star systems. Maybe two HuKs would jump if the Syndics had tried to rebuild anything at Kalixa.

Aside from the HuKs, there was only a single light cruiser orbiting one of the planets in the inner system. No surprise there. With the Syndics so short of warships, they had probably pulled back just about everything left to defend their home star system. The FACs had been a defense of desperation.

Geary told the combat system to come up with a plan for bombarding the fixed defenses with kinetic projectiles, “rocks” in fleet parlance, then, when the solution popped up a moment later, punched approve and watched as dozens of his warships began spitting out chunks of solid metal that would strike their targets with tremendous amounts of energy gained by their speed. Nothing in a fixed orbit could possibly avoid getting hit, but for his warships, dodging any shots fired by the rail guns at the fleet across light-hours of distance wouldn’t be hard at all. Still, Geary didn’t want to have to worry about dealing with that as the fleet cut across the outer reaches of the star system, nor did he want those rail guns targeting Dungeon with barrages while the heavy cruiser was trying to make repairs.

Dungeon still hadn’t called when Captain Smyth’s image reappeared. “Quite a mess,” Smyth announced in the same cheerful tones. “Dungeon should have ducked! That cruiser can’t fix herself. Two main propulsion units are totally blown. Tanuki or Titan can do the job, but it will take an estimated four days. Until then, that cruiser is going to be limping along.”

Meaning the fleet would have to limp along with it. Geary took only a moment to consider his options, knowing that slowing the fleet down that much in enemy territory wouldn’t be wise. “Thank you, Captain.”

“Anytime!”

“I wonder how he reacts to really bad news,” Desjani said.

“Probably the same. More stuff needs fixed, so he’s happy,” Geary speculated.

“You can’t ask for a better attitude from an engineer. Speaking of engineers and attitudes, did Captain Gundel ever finish that study you assigned him to keep him out of your hair?”

“No, he didn’t. I left him in Varandal, still working away on it.”

Desjani shook her head. “How long do you think it will take him to realize that since the fleet made it back to Varandal, there is no more need for a study on logistical requirements for getting back to Varandal?”

“I don’t think Captain Gundel is deterred by minor issues like whether or not a report has any purpose. In any case, the point of that report was just to keep him occupied with something harmless, so it’s still fulfilling its function.” There wasn’t any sense in putting off what he had to do next. He called Dungeon.

The cruiser’s captain stared out of the virtual window floating before Geary’s display. “Sir, we’re still evaluating the damage.”

“My readouts and an evaluation from the engineers on the auxiliaries indicate repairs will take four days and require major external support,” Geary replied. “Is that consistent with your evaluations so far?”Dungeon’s commanding officer nodded even though he clearly didn’t want to. “Yes, sir.”

“The fleet can’t slow down enough to accompany you that long,” Geary stated bluntly. “Dungeon will have to return to Varandal and get repairs there. You can report on the results of our action here in Atalia.”

Now the cruiser’s captain simply seemed horrified. “Please, sir. It’s not about me. The crew deserves to accompany the fleet on this historic mission. Dungeon can keep up, sir.”

“No, she can’t. I don’t like doing this, Commander, but your own actions created this situation. I’m just grateful that Dungeon wasn’t destroyed by that improvised minefield. I give you credit for reacting, belatedly, to my orders to steer clear of it. If not for that obedience to my orders, you’d be relieved of command. But you did follow orders, although too late to keep your ship from being damaged. I won’t imperil every other ship in the fleet and our mission by spending four extra days crawling through this star system while Dungeon gets repaired. I regret that Dungeon won’t accompany the fleet, and my report will state that Dungeon’s return to Varandal in no way reflects adversely upon her officers and crew, but I have no choice here. Detach and return to Varandal at best speed for repairs, Commander.”

“Yes, sir.” Looking as pale as a ghost, Dungeon’s captain saluted awkwardly.

Geary sat slumped for a moment afterward, glaring at his display.

“He was lucky,” Desjani finally commented.

“I know. So were we. How desperate must the Syndics be to have rigged that kind of defense here?”

“Very desperate.” The thought seemed to bring further joy to Desjani.

Rione finally spoke again. “Did any of the Syndics on those small craft survive?”

Desjani grimaced at the query, then looked a question at one of the watch-standers.

“Probably not, Madam Co-President,” that lieutenant answered. “The FACs are so small that any hit is likely to hit the crew, too. There’s no survival pod, just the FAC itself and the suits of the one or two personnel in the crew. Survival time with the FAC’s systems knocked out is … uh … estimated at half an hour to an hour.”

“Then there’s no sense in asking Dungeon to search for survivors and take them prisoner?” Rione asked.

Without speaking directly to Rione, Desjani answered this time. “They were on a suicide mission. They knew it. If any still survive long enough for Dungeon to get close, they might well trigger further explosions on the wrecks of their craft or by using explosives attached to themselves.”

Seeing Rione’s unhappiness, Geary called Lieutenant Iger, relaying Desjani’s assessment. “Do you concur?”

Iger spoke to some of the other intelligence personnel, then nodded. “Yes, sir. Whoever was crewing those FACs under these conditions had to be fanatics ready to die for their cause. Unless one of them is dead or unconscious, I wouldn’t get close.” He paused in thought. “But even then their bodies might be rigged with proximity fuses activated by a dead-man mechanism. I wouldn’t risk it, sir.”

One more reminder, as if Geary needed any, of how ugly this war had become over the course of a century. “Sorry, Madam Co-President.”

“I understand.” She stood up. “I’m going to go back to my stateroom and pretend I was there during this entire time. Senators Costa and Sakai are not aware that politicians are permitted on the bridge during such periods, and I’d rather they not learn differently.”

As Rione left, Desjani gave her a suspicious glance. “Why is she being nice?”

Geary followed her gaze. “I have no idea.”

“Does she know your plans?”

“Not in detail.” He could have added “not like you,” but decided that would be overkill.

Desjani smiled grimly. “Good. When does everybody find out?”

“A day and a half, just a few hours before we jump out of here.”

“Good,” she repeated. “Dungeon will have hobbled back to the jump point and left for Varandal by then, so no last-minute messages to her can compromise your plans.”

“Right.” He said it as if he’d already thought of that, but Desjani’s grin told Geary he hadn’t gotten any better at lying.

The fleet had been in the Atalia Star System for just over twelve hours when the transmission came in from the primary inhabited world. Seven individuals stood behind a broad desk, one of them speaking earnestly. “From the senior Syndicate Worlds’ CEOs in Atalia Star System to Captain Geary. We have voted to secede from the Syndicate Worlds and establish an independent star system. We wish to offer the formal surrender of Atalia to the Alliance on the condition that you personally guarantee the safety of everyone in it from further attack or reprisal.”

Geary leaned back in a chair in his stateroom, staring at the screen, then forwarded it within Dauntless. “Madam Co-President, I need you to look at this message.”

Less than ten minutes later, his hatch announced Rione’s arrival. She carried an air of triumph mingled with worry as she entered. “Surrender. Do you know the last time a Syndic star system surrendered to the Alliance?”

“No.”

“It’s never happened. They can be conquered and subdued with great effort, and individual groupings of forces or cities might surrender under pressure, but not an entire star system.” Rione sat down, her eyes hooded. “There’s no sign of revolution within this star system?”

“No. It doesn’t seem to be happening like it did at Heradao. Fleet sensors and the intelligence section haven’t picked up internal fighting or any problems with the Syndic command and control net.”

Rione’s eyes went toward the star display in Geary’s stateroom. “We killed the backbone of the loyalist forces at the jump exit. All the ones who would have died rather than surrender. They did, and now what remains is far less eager to fight hopeless battles.”

That made sense but still left a big question. “How the hell do I accept the surrender of a star system? I don’t have a fraction of the Marines and other ground forces we’d need to occupy just a few critical places.”

She gave him a rueful look. “You might also ask how you intend protecting this star system from Syndic retaliation. I assume you’re not interested in leaving a substantial portion of your fleet behind.”

“No.” Geary paced, trying to figure out how to respond. “Dungeon hasn’t jumped yet. I checked her position, and we should have time to get a message to her before she leaves for Varandal. Dungeon can carry the message, and the Alliance can push some other units in here to handle any light warships the Syndics might still have in this region.”

“Atalia has been pounded to hell for the last century. It’s not exactly a prize for the Alliance.” Rione shrugged and stood up. “But we’re not annexing it. I’ll prepare a message for Dungeon to carry to the grand council, suggesting we offer limited protection but avoid promising any more than that. The Alliance can’t afford to take on the responsibility of fixing up Syndic star systems as well as our own. Make certain that you specify in your message to Dungeon that you’ve promised on your own honor that the people in Atalia won’t be bombarded again unless in response to attacks on Alliance units in this star system.”

He set to work crafting his replies as Rione left. At one point an alert announced the arrival of the Alliance kinetic bombardment launched twelve hours ago at some of the distant targets at which it had been aimed. There wasn’t any halting the onward progress of that bombardment, since the Alliance couldn’t stop the rocks any more than the Syndics could.

One other thing bothered him, though. Atalia hadn’t surrendered to the Alliance. It had surrendered to him.

Captain Duellos—the man, not his virtual image—leaned back and glanced around Geary’s stateroom. “I always expect a place to seem different when I’m there in person no matter how realistic my virtual visits were supposed to be. Too many people use filters that show a virtual visitor a false image of grandeur or whatever other spotless illusion they prefer to their own reality.”

“So, is this different?” Geary asked, dropping into the seat opposite.

“Not that I can tell.” Duellos shrugged. “I didn’t expect differently. To me you’ve always seemed uncomfortable with illusions.”

Most visits among the fleet’s ships were virtual ones, but while physical visits were unusual, they weren’t totally unheard of. With no enemy threat still present, Duellos had taken a shuttle to see an old acquaintance who was now commanding officer of one of the new battle cruisers, then swung his shuttle by Dauntless on the way back to Inspire. “How’s your friend on Agile?” Geary asked.

“He’s fine, though a bit worried about everything he’s hearing about these radical new ways of fighting that Black Jack Geary is employing. I reassured him that they are honorable, effective, and learnable, as he saw when we arrived at Atalia. He wanted to see me in person to pass on a memento from a mutual friend of ours who died in battle a little while back and wanted me to have something of his to remind me of … our times together.” Duellos sat silent for a moment, then looked directly at Geary. “I keep expecting to get a message from Jaylen Cresida with the latest on her researches or some tactic she wanted to talk about.”

“I know how you feel. It’s hard to look at the fleet and not see Furious there.”

“But … we go on.” Duellos blew out a long breath, then nodded at the star display. “We go, to be specific, back to the Syndic home star system.”

“That’s the plan,” Geary agreed.

“Aren’t you curious as to how I knew it was the plan?”

Geary made a face, waving toward his desk. “According to reports from Lieutenant Iger, the intelligence officer assigned to Dauntless, everybody in Varandal Star System, military and civilian, seemed to know that before we left. I had to brief various parties on the plan and get their approval, you know.”

“And somehow the plan got leaked,” Duellos remarked with obviously feigned surprise. “Where are we really going?”

“To the Syndic home star system.”

He frowned and leaned forward, searching Geary’s face. “Are you trying to make them think that because everybody knows we are going there we couldn’t possibly be really going there? Manipulating the mind of the enemy is an inexact and often failed art.”

“So I’ve heard.” Geary sighed as well. “I didn’t want it to leak, but I suspect the Syndics knew we’d be aiming for there anyway. It’s the only objective that makes sense, the one place the Syndics can’t afford to lose, and the Syndic leaders can’t abandon their home star system without suffering a massive hit to the morale of the Syndicate Worlds.”

“That’s true of our leaders,” Duellos agreed. “Is it true of theirs as well?”

“As near as we can tell. The Syndicate Worlds are very close to falling apart as it is. A little piece just broke off here at Atalia. Having their leaders run would shatter everything that’s left.”

Duellos was studying the star display again. “The only way to get there fast is by using the Syndic hypernet, which means barging in the front door again. I hate to recall how many mines we encountered outside that hypernet gate.”

“My plan takes that into account,” Geary confided. “We have to go to the Syndic home star system in order to strike a decisive blow, but there’s more than one way to get there fast. I’ve done my best to let only the fewest possible people in on it, then not use comm systems unless I have to, but when we’re about to jump out of here, I’ll brief the fleet on it just as I promised.”

“I understand your hesitation to use even the ultrasecure comm systems. I’m sure you guessed that’s why I came by in person.” Duellos gave Geary a sidelong glance. “You’re talking to Tanya? She’s in on the planning?”

“Yes.”

“Excellent.”

Geary smiled. “Why would you think I wouldn’t have her in on the planning?”

Duellos was studying his fingernails. “Personal reasons.”

“They’re not getting in the way.”

“She asked me to talk to you,” Duellos continued in relaxed tones. “Tanya, that is. ‘Beat some sense into him,’ she said.”

“What’d I do this time?” Geary asked.

“Something about the rank of fleet admiral being temporary.” Duellos raised both eyebrows at Geary. “You do have the grand gesture down. Most men regard that giving-up-everything-for-their-love thing as a theoretical exercise and don’t actually intend ever doing it.”

Geary laughed. “Roberto, I’m not qualified to hold that rank.” He held up a hand to forestall Duellos’s reply. “I can command this fleet. But fleet admiral is a lot more than that. I lack the necessary experience in diplomacy, logistics, planning, and lots of other things.”

“I must respectfully disagree, Admiral.” Duellos dropped all hint of humor. “In all seriousness, is that what you wish? Is that what’s best?”

He looked back at Duellos, letting some of his own emotional strain show. “I think I’ve given a great deal, I think I’ve done a great deal. There’ll always be more that’s needed. I know that, and I’ve stopped deluding myself that I can walk away from it. I won’t abandon those who depend on me. I’ve never done that. But how long can I keep going if I don’t … don’t look to what I need as well? Our ships were running out of fuel cells at Varandal, Roberto. Sometimes I feel like that, like my power core has reached exhaustion and needs to shut down. And then I talk to Tanya, and I can keep going.”

Duellos nodded, his expression thoughtful. “Have you told that to her?”

“I can’t! Not that way. You know that. It’s improper, it’s unprofessional, and it would place her in a dishonorable position. I respect her too much to do that.”

“Respect?” Duellos quirked a questioning eyebrow at Geary. “Or some other emotion you can’t say out loud?”

“Both,” Geary admitted. “But I won’t compromise her honor.”

“And she refuses to compromise yours.” Duellos shook his head. “You’re waiting until you are both captains again? And you’ve relinquished command of the fleet, so she’s no longer in your chain of command, and you can legally and honorably have a relationship?”

“Right.” Geary made an angry gesture. “Which would be impossible if I remained an admiral. Hence the temporary rank, and I will not bend on that. The Alliance government agreed that I would revert to captain and give up command of the fleet when the war is over, and I’ve returned the fleet to Alliance space.”

Duellos nodded once more. “So Tanya told me. Did the government promise not to promote you again immediately and just as quickly reappoint you to command of the fleet?”

Geary stared at Duellos, feeling a sudden weight in his gut. “No.”

“Then you’d better plan for that.”

No wonder Senator Navarro had given in so easily. No wonder the officers in the fleet had such low opinions of politicians. At least this confirmed for him that his talk to Badaya about how politicians would easily manipulate officers had indeed been true and not just a tactic to convince Badaya not to force a military coup. Small comfort that was at the moment, though. “But, how do I … ?”

Duellos stood up, smiling wryly. “Move fast, outwit the enemy, strike in ways they don’t expect.” His smile faded. “You’ll need to be certain that Tanya feels the same.”

“How the hell do I do that when we can’t talk about it?”

“I haven’t any idea.” Duellos shook his head. “Tanya sent me here to talk about your career, not about your relationship with her. I can’t honorably act as an intermediary on that issue. You know that.”

“Yes, I do. No one can. We’d be asking them to take dishonorable actions, to assist in breaking regulations. The only people we could ask would be those we trust the most, and wouldn’t that be one hell of a way to repay that trust?” Geary faced the star display as if an answer might be read there among the stars. “I’ll figure out something.”

“Just remember that Tanya is going to be making her own plans. They may not coincide with yours.”

“Why not?”

Duellos took a moment, apparently deciding whether or not to answer. “You’ll have to ask her.”

“I can’t.”

“No. Sorry.” Duellos moved to leave, then paused. “I’ll tell her you’re firm in your decision on the rank issue. She won’t be happy.”

“Great. Right now that makes two of us.”

Duellos followed Geary’s gaze. “You’re looking at Dreadnaught.”

“Yeah. I still haven’t heard anything from Jane Geary except required professional reports.”

“That I can try to help with. There’s nothing dishonorable about seeking to discuss personal matters with a close relative. I’ll speak with her,” Duellos promised.

“Thanks.” Geary stood, looking closely at Duellos. “I’m glad to finally meet you in person. Just in case.” They’d be going into battle again, and in the tiny fractions of a second in which warships clashed on their firing runs, chance played a big part in who lived and who died.

“Yes. Just in case. I’ll go pay my respects to Captain Desjani and report the failure of my mission.”

Despite it all, Geary found himself smiling after Duellos had left.

There were smiles all around the conference table. Every commanding officer was happy about the one-sided slaughter of the Syndic fast attack craft and had already heard that Atalia had surrendered to Geary. The only unhappy face would have belonged to the captain of Dungeon, and that cruiser had jumped for Varandal twenty hours ago.

For the first time since he had assumed command of the fleet, Geary felt a need to tamp down the high spirits. “We’ve won minor victories here, but the big fight is yet to come. Some of the Syndic forces that attacked Varandal escaped, and they’ll have picked up reinforcements. We need to finish off that force.”

He called up the star display, knowing that this was the moment they had all been anticipating. “We’ll jump from here to Kalixa. The hypernet gate there was destroyed, but from Kalixa we can make a jump to Indras.” His hand traced the planned path of the fleet deeper into Syndic space. “Assuming the Syndic hypernet gate at Indras has been fitted with a Cresida safe-fail system, we’ll approach that gate and use the Syndic hypernet key aboard Dauntless to allow the fleet to enter the Syndic hypernet and head for Parnosa.” The path on the display shot across space, ending at a distant star.

A moment’s silence was broken by Commander Neeson of Implacable asking the question Geary could see on every face. “Parnosa? Why Parnosa?”

“Because none of us trust the Syndics, and recent history warns us against entering the Syndic home star system through the front door represented by the hypernet gate there.” The reference to the Syndic ambush that had inflicted horrible losses on this same fleet didn’t need any elaboration. “So we’re going to come at them from an unexpected direction. From Parnosa, we’ll jump to Zevos, and from Zevos to the Syndic home star system.”

A moment’s silence followed while everyone absorbed that, then Captain Jane Geary spoke for the first time at one of these conferences. “Zevos is not within jump range of the Syndic home star system.”

“Yes, it is,” Captain Duellos responded in a thoughtful voice. “Not within official range, but when this fleet jumped to Sancere, Captain Geary showed us how to get extra range from the jump drives. The distance from Zevos to the Syndic home star system is less than we jumped then.”

“Exactly,” Geary agreed. “Whatever surprise the Syndics may have prepared for us won’t be targeted at anything jumping from Zevos. We’ll arrive at a jump point the Syndics regard as useless because they think there are no stars close enough for it to be used.”

Neeson’s smile was back. “So the Syndics won’t have anything there waiting for us. We’ll take their ambush at the hypernet gate in the rear this time.”

Captain Armus was frowning, though. “What if the Syndic defenders just bolt through that hypernet gate instead of fighting us? We’ll be giving them an easy escape.”

Rione normally remained silent in these meetings, but now she spoke up. “They can’t afford to run because the Syndic leadership can’t afford to run. The defenders have to stand and try to win because if the Syndic Executive Council flees their home star system, their remaining veneer of authority will vanish, and most of the Syndicate Worlds’ other star systems will follow the lead of places like Atalia and Heradao. We know this, and they know this. They must fight.”

Armus and some of the other captains had frowned more deeply at Rione interjecting herself into the meeting, but as she finished, the frowns eased. “That’s good, then,”

Armus conceded. “Fleet intelligence supports that assessment?” he asked Geary.

“It does.” Naturally, the fleet’s officers wouldn’t take a politician’s word for anything. “This plan isn’t set in stone, because if the gate at Indras is also gone or hasn’t yet been fitted with a safe-fail device, we won’t be able to use it. If that happens, we’ll keep jumping deeper into Syndic territory until we find a gate we can use.”Dependable’s captain gestured for attention. “Admiral, the Syndics may not have installed those systems on any of their gates. I know this fleet rode out shock waves from gate collapses at Sancere and Lakota. Why can’t we attempt to use a gate even if it lacks a safe-fail system?”

Geary could tell the suggestion didn’t have support from any of the officers who’d been present at Lakota, but the question was an understandable one from someone who hadn’t been there. “We’re going to Kalixa next. I think once you see what’s left of that star system, you’ll have your answer to that. Are there any other questions?”

Captain Kattnig of the Adroit stood. “I wish to volunteer the battle cruisers of the Fifth Battle Cruiser Division for the vanguard of any future action against the Syndics.”

The other commanding officers exchanged glances, some approving, some disapproving, many simply of understanding at the request. Geary took a moment to answer. “Captain, the fleet’s formation in action will be dependent on the situation we encounter. I assure you that every ship in the fleet will play an important role in any engagement.”

Kattnig nodded respectfully. “This is understood, Admiral, but my battle cruisers have not had the opportunity to prove themselves under your command and are eager to do just that.”

“I will keep that in mind, Captain.” The request was in keeping with the offensive mind-set of the fleet, so there wasn’t any sense in outright denying it. Kattnig sat down again, and Geary studied the other officers. “I have just one thing more, then.” He had been thinking about how to say this and hoped he had the talk down right. Desjani waited with a confident expression. He’d tried the speech out on her, and she had suggested only small changes.

“When I first gained command of this fleet,” he began speaking, “our situation was desperate. We fought desperately, as those who had nothing to lose. As we fought our way closer and closer to home, our emotions became the desperation of hope, the willingness to risk everything so we could return to our homes and loved ones. Now things have changed. We’re no longer desperate. But we must fight now to avoid complacency, to avoid the belief that the hard fighting is over, and painless victory is certain. We won easily at the jump exit into Atalia. But had we been unworried then, had we not shown the wariness of combat veterans, then this fleet would have plowed straight into that mass of merchant ships, and many of our own ships wouldn’t have come out again after those Syndic ships sprung their trap.”

He paused, letting the point sink in. “I don’t know what the next trap might be, but we need to be alert for it. We have to fight as hard and as desperately as we did on the way home because everyone in the Alliance believes we can end this war. We can’t let them down, so we must be brave, wary, wise, and strong. Just as we were before.”

Another pause, everyone listening, most nodding. Rione mimed clapping her hands in approval. “Thank you,” Geary ended. “We’re going to the Syndic home star system, and we’re going to finish this. That is all.”

They cheered then, rising to salute. The images of most of the virtual participants vanished rapidly, leaving only the virtual presences of Senators Costa and Sakai, Rione, and the real presence of Tanya Desjani with Geary. Costa was watching Geary with a surprised and wary look she was trying to conceal. Senator Sakai nodded politely to Geary. “A fine speech,” he said softly. “This is your true plan you presented?”

“Yes. I wouldn’t mislead my commanders. If I lose their trust … Well, I assume you’re aware of what almost happened to the heavy cruiser Dungeon soon after we arrived in this star system. They need to know they can count on me.”

“Once the Syndic defenders in their home star system are eliminated,” Sakai continued, “Senator Costa, Co-President Rione, and I will take the lead on negotiations.”

Rione flicked one finger in a way that told Geary not to debate the issue at this time. “Certainly, Senator.”

After the images of Costa and Sakai disappeared, Rione laughed. “Did you see Costa?”

“Yeah. What was bothering her?”

“She’s just realized that she may have been underestimating the competition. That’s you. Costa believed that she could outmaneuver any military officer, but now she has her doubts.” Rione laughed again.

“What about the other one?” Geary asked.

“Sakai?” Rione stopped laughing. “He’s thinking and keeping his eyes open. He’s here representing the part of the grand council that distrusts Black Jack the most. Never forget that. You were busy watching the reactions of your officers, I know, so you didn’t see how closely Sakai watched your captain. He knows if worse comes to worst that he’d have to get through her to get to you, and I believe Sakai is only now understanding just how hard a task that would be.”

Desjani stood up, her face professionally rigid. “I should be going.”

But Rione waved one hand. “No need to hurry on my account. I was just departing.” Then her image vanished as well.

“Can we leave her at Kalixa?” Desjani asked.

“No. Has Senator Sakai talked to you?”

“A courtesy call, and occasional drop-ins for leading conversations,” Desjani responded dryly. “You know, politics, the war, your ambitions. That sort of thing.”

“I hope you reassured him,” Geary replied with a smile.

“He didn’t believe me, I’m certain.” She blew out a long breath. “Sir, I know Captain Duellos talked to you—”

“And I know he told you what I said.”

Desjani shook her head at him. “If I actually told Senator Sakai what your ambitions were, he’d think you were crazy.”

“So do you.”

“And now I’m agreeing with a politician. You do work miracles, Admiral.”

He waited until she left, then called Tulev. “I’m sorry for getting you back here so soon, but I wanted to ask you something.”

Tulev, stolid, outwardly unemotional as usual, inclined his head slightly. “Nothing too serious, I hope, Admiral.”

“I don’t know. I understand you served with Captain Kattnig.”

“Kattnig?” Tulev’s puzzlement briefly showed. “A long time ago, when we were both still enlisted sailors.”

“He’s mentioned a couple of times that you two were commissioned together.”

“Yes, that is so,” Tulev agreed. “The fleet was in serious need of new officers after the battles around Hattera. But I have rarely encountered him since then.” Tulev eyed Geary. “Is there some concern about Kattnig?”

“I don’t know.” Geary pounded the table softly with one fist. “He’s got a good record.”

“Captain Kattnig has spoken with me a few times since Adroit joined the fleet. He wished to know more about our return to Alliance space under your command.”

Geary nodded, noting that even Tulev never referred to that return voyage as a “retreat.” No one in the fleet did, and more than once Geary had barely stopped himself from inadvertently using the word “retreat.” But whereas he had to work to avoid employing the term, Geary had slowly come to the conclusion that the rest of the fleet truly didn’t think of the return as a retreat. The Alliance fleet didn’t retreat, it “withdrew,” it “reorganized,” it “repositioned,” it “departed,” or it “altered the axis of attack.” Therefore, the return to Alliance space couldn’t have been a retreat. “Pardon me for saying this bluntly, but Kattnig seems to think that he has something to prove, maybe because he wasn’t with the fleet during the return to Alliance space. He talked about the new battle cruisers proving themselves, but I have a feeling he’s actually most concerned about proving himself, and I don’t know why.”

Tulev thought about that, then nodded in turn. “I believe that is a fair assessment, yes. Many fleet officers and sailors who were not with us feel the same way. But Kattnig’s record is, as you say, a good one. I will speak with him again, just the two of us, and try to reassure him. He, like the other new officers, is learning to deal with your different way of fighting. Perhaps that is a factor. The new tactics can appear to leave less room for individual valor.”

“Those new tactics are a century old, and Kattnig has already proven his valor. I’d appreciate your talking to him and driving home that the officers whose experiences he admires gained those experiences fighting with those tactics.”

“Certainly, Admiral.” Tulev gave him a searching look. “Do you worry about his actions?”

“I’m worried about all of the new officers,” Geary admitted. “I hope they learned from what happened to Dungeon.”

“Even though the damage to Dungeon made it necessary for her to return home, no harsher punishment for disobedience could have been possible,” Tulev agreed.

“They could have died if their commanding officer hadn’t pulled up in time.”

“They would have preferred death to the dishonor of missing the attack on the Syndic home star system. It would have been a lesser penalty in their eyes.”

Geary sighed. “I keep forgetting. To me, death is still something to fear.”

“We fear death, Admiral, but there are other things we fear more.” Tulev nodded to him. “There are other things you fear more as well. I know this. You could not be a good commander otherwise.” Standing again, Tulev saluted, and his image vanished.

The jump for Kalixa felt routine, though the fleet was once again in combat formation and ready to fight. Geary felt the usual discomfort from being in jump space, a strange, formless, gray universe lit by no stars, but also suffered from a restlessness that drove him to frequent walks around Dauntless. The crew was happy and confident, certain that Black Jack could do anything. When Geary got back to his stateroom, he would sit for a while, watching the mysterious lights that flared and faded in jump space.

Finally, they reached Kalixa.