The Lost Fleet: Beyond the Frontier: Steadfast

by Jack Campbell

  “We’ve been keeping a close eye on them,” Duellos said.

  “I know you’ve—” Geary stopped, frowning. “We’re watching them.”

  “Yes.”

  “Focused on them.”

  Duellos shook his head quickly. “We are watching for any other threats, Admiral. There’s nothing else out there.”

  “There’s nothing else we see,” Geary replied. “If they want to delay our understanding of the situation, that means they have something that requires time to develop.” He paused, eyeing his display, then tapped a command for it to project future movements at a greatly accelerated rate. Ships spun in orbit or raced along vectors, planets rocketed around the star—

  Geary almost flinched as he saw something big coming toward the track his ships would be following, then recognized the object swinging toward that track as the largest of the gas giant worlds in Batara.

  He froze his display, then tapped another command. “Ten light-minutes.”

  Duellos raised an eyebrow, leaning over to check what Geary was doing. “That gas giant? Yes,” he confirmed, “its closest point of approach to our ships as they proceed, and it orbits, will be ten light-minutes distant.” Duellos paused to think, tapping one finger against his lips as he considered this information. “Not awfully close in space terms, but not a long distance, either.”

  Geary nodded almost absentmindedly, his thoughts moving ahead as he gazed at the representation of the gas giant. It was fairly gorgeous as planets went, bands of colors rioting across the heavy clouds cloaking it and a single, bright ring marking the ancient fates of one or more moons which must have shattered into fragments long ago. In terms of size, as planets went, it was indeed a giant.

  Ten light-minutes. Roughly one hundred eighty million kilometers. A very long distance in planetary terms.

  But when he had to worry about a large number of merchant ships that could not run well or fight at all, ten light-minutes might be far too small a distance.

  “We’re in space. We’re assuming we can see any threats. But what if,” he asked Duellos, “something was hiding behind that gas giant, maneuvering to stay concealed until it could pop out when it was close enough that the freighters couldn’t get away?”

  Duellos nodded, his eyes also on the gas giant. “An ambush from that distance wouldn’t work against warships, but against freighters is a much different matter. We’d also have trouble spotting small, stealthy satellites from this far away under normal circumstances, but that ring offers perfect secondary concealment. They could have a score of small satellites in orbit inside the ring, watching us and relaying their observations to each other by tight beams around the curve of the planet.” He looked at Geary. “That’s just a guess, though. We don’t have any proof.”

  “We can get proof.” He pondered his display a moment longer, then called the light cruiser Spur.

  Lieutenant Commander Pajari, captain of Spur and commander of the light cruiser squadron, answered less than a minute later. “Yes, Admiral.”

  “Which one of the light cruisers has the most reliable propulsion and maneuvering?” Geary asked. He should have been able to get that data from the fleet’s readiness reports, but since headquarters had ordered those to display exaggerated readiness, he could no longer trust the information in them.

  Pajari didn’t hesitate. “Fleche, sir. Her propulsion systems failed not long after we returned to Varandal last time, so she was moved up in priority for replacement of the equipment. Her other systems are as old as she is, for the most part, but propulsion and maneuvering are new and solid.”

  “Fleche?” Tanya had served on an earlier Fleche, which had been destroyed. There might have been a half dozen other Fleches built and lost in the intervening years. This Fleche with the “old” equipment had been launched barely two years ago, her systems designed to last for the ship’s life expectancy in combat, which had been less than a year. “Very well,” Geary said. “You are to detach Fleche for a reconnaissance mission.” Geary indicated the gas giant on his display. “We need to find out, as soon as we can, whether anything is hiding behind that planet. I want Fleche to go out there, pop over the top, swing wide to take a good look, and rejoin the formation.”

  “Yes, sir. Fleche is to go out, reconnoiter the far side of the gas giant by passing over its north pole, then rejoin the formation,” Pajari repeated.

  “Fleche is not to engage anything it spots,” Geary emphasized. “If there is something there, it’s probably a lot more than a light cruiser can handle. She is to take a look and get back here, utilizing whatever acceleration is necessary to ensure her safe return to formation.”

  “Yes, sir. I will ensure that Fleche’s commanding officer receives those orders word for word.”

  Only a couple of minutes later, Geary watched Fleche peel away from the formation and tear off toward an intercept with the gas giant as it lumbered along its own orbit. He could almost feel the eagerness with which the light cruiser embarked on the mission, a welcome diversion from plodding along with the refugee ships.

  “If there is something there,” Duellos said, “Fleche won’t buy us much warning. It looks like she’ll get her look at the back side of that planet when it’s about fifteen light-minutes from our track.”

  “That’s better than ten light-minutes.”

  “True.” Duellos had turned somber as he watched the light cruiser arc away from the other Alliance warships. “This is one of those times when you should be grateful that I’m not Tanya.”

  “I’m often grateful that you’re not Tanya and that she’s not you,” Geary said. “No offense. Why in particular this time?”

  “She’s very superstitious about light cruisers bearing the name Fleche.” Duellos shook his head, avoiding looking at Geary. “Has she ever told you what she endured in the battle where her Fleche was destroyed?”

  “No. She did finally say that I could read her citation for the Alliance Fleet Cross, but she still absolutely refuses to talk about it.” Except once, and Tanya had mostly focused on what had happened afterwards.

  Duellos relapsed into silence, but Geary guessed that he was also worried about using a ship named Fleche for this mission. Tanya wasn’t the only superstitious sailor in the fleet. Something about being a sailor, about being out on the vastness of planetary seas or the infinite immensity of space, encouraged the sense of being surrounded by unseen forces that could help or hinder, save or destroy, depending on whether they were appeased or provoked. It was something older and vaster than any religion, and he had felt it often enough himself.

  However, there wasn’t a lot he could do in the way of appeasing or provoking the unseen while waiting for Fleche to reach the gas giant. Even with the light cruiser ramping her velocity up a little past point two light speed, it would still be close to three hours before the warship intercepted the gas giant in its orbit.

  But he could move his ships around a bit, positioning the battle cruisers so that they were ahead of and to one side of the gaggle of refugee ships, best positioned if something dangerous did lurk behind that gas giant. And he could plan for when they reached the inhabited world, talking with both Colonel Voston and Colonel Kim about the security that would be needed, and with the three FAC pilots about how they would provide protection for the shuttles bringing down the refugees to the surface.

  Night Witch, Catnap, and Nightstalker were all attentive as he talked to them, eager to reach the planet and fulfill their mission. Geary had looked up the statistics on FACs, learning that in an offensive combat situation their odds of survival were extremely small, but none of the pilots showed any signs of being fazed by that. They were, after all, pilots, just as the crews of Geary’s ships were sailors.

  When all of those preparations were done, and Fleche was still an hour from reaching the gas giant, Geary talked to the refugee leaders Araya and Naxos agai
n. “What are you planning to do once we drop off you and the others?” he asked.

  Araya gave him her scornful look. “Are you still pretending to care?”

  “Actually, I do care,” Geary replied. “You’ll have a pretty large mass of people with you, most or all of whom think like you do. There are already a lot of people in the streets on that planet.”

  Naxos smiled, his eyes on the deck. “The people on Batara aren’t happy. I, for one, will not be exiled again. I will walk into the Hall of the People and kick out the new CEOs who rule there.”

  “You’ll have help,” Araya said. “Lots of it. If we can get the ground forces and the security forces, some of them anyway, to back us, we can do it.” Her face lit with dangerous enthusiasm. “And then those scum will find themselves in the labor camps!”

  Geary looked at Naxos and Araya. “Do you both hate the Syndic CEOs who used to rule here?”

  Both nodded immediately. “They just cared about themselves,” Naxos grumbled, head still lowered.

  “There was a revolt in the Midway Star System, too. After they kicked out the CEOs, they shut down the labor camps. Their leaders said there would never again be labor camps anywhere they controlled.”

  “How are we supposed to punish the enemies of the people?” Araya demanded.

  “Is that the question you should be asking? How to keep doing things the way the CEOs did? Or should you be wondering why you want to act like the people you hate?”

  Naxos raised his head and held it up this time, looking intently at Geary. “I said that. Many times. Why change leaders if we’re going to be the same as the old leaders?”

  “I can’t make you do things differently,” Geary said. “But I think you’re right to be asking yourself that question.”

  “What guarantee would we have that doing things differently would be the same as doing things better?” Naxos asked.

  “None. It’s not enough to be different. And there will be lots of disagreement on what is better and what is worse or the same.” Geary paused, remembering his own recent experiences. “But as long as you’re talking, as long as people can change things they don’t like, as long as you aren’t refusing to listen to other people, then you’ll have a chance of doing things better.”

  “Do you listen to other people?” Araya asked in acidic tones.

  “All the time,” Geary said. “Other people act as a mirror of sorts, second opinions on whether I’m doing the right thing, whether my preconceptions and assumptions are justified, and whether there are better answers than I’ve come up with so far. In combat, I often have to act quickly, but even then I listen when someone suggests alternatives. I don’t have to agree with them, I don’t have to do what they want, but I listen.”

  “I had a few good supervisors,” Naxos said, looking at Araya this time. “They listened when I suggested things.”

  She flushed slightly, mouth tight, then nodded. “Yes. As a sub-executive, I tried to listen to the workers, including you. I prided myself on that. Did I stop listening?”

  “You’re listening now,” Naxos pointed out.

  “Ha! You’re a very insubordinate worker, aren’t you?” She addressed Geary again. “We can do more listening, and convincing and planning, if we are allowed to talk to those on the other ships.”

  “I’ll tell Colonel Kim to give you access to comms.”

  “You’re going to trust us?” Araya didn’t bother hiding her skepticism.

  “If you’re going to create trouble, if you’re going to organize a new dictatorship to replace the current one, I’d rather know now,” Geary said. “And, as I’m sure you already expected, those comms will be monitored. Given the potential for riots on the ships, I have no alternative.”

  “Why tell us that?”

  “Because, at this point, you’re not my enemies, and I’d like to keep it that way. The Alliance already has enough problems and enough enemies.”

  Araya and Naxos stared at Geary for several seconds. “How could we ever be anything but enemies?” Araya finally asked.

  “Batara used to be on friendly terms with the Alliance, before the Syndics took it over,” Geary said. “If there are any records left in Batara that the Syndics didn’t destroy or alter to fit their preferred version of history, you can look it up.”

  She shook her head. “That’s a very big if. The Syndicate tried to destroy all hard copy, so they could easily alter all of the digital histories every time the official version changed.”

  Something suddenly became clear. “I was talking to someone else, a former citizen of the Syndicate Worlds like you, and they used the word ‘history’ as if it was interchangeable with ‘lies.’ I didn’t understand that.”

  Araya shrugged. “We call what’s real hard copy. History is lies, and hard copy can be lies, but you can’t change hard copy once it has been printed. No undetectable updates, no invisible revisions, no additions you can’t spot. Hard copy is what it is. My friend here”—she gestured toward Naxos—“thinks that you are hard copy, Admiral. I hope he is right.”

  By then enough time had elapsed for Geary to return to the bridge of Inspire and wait. The two light cruisers and four HuKs had not left their orbits near the inhabited world, and aside from a few small craft operating near orbital installations, nothing else human could be seen moving in the star system except the Alliance warships and the refugee ships they were escorting.

  Duellos had not left the bridge and now shook his head. “I wondered if you were just being extra cautious, but the lack of activity is suspicious. They knew we were coming, and those ships orbiting near the main planet have seen us and had time to react yet haven’t done anything.”

  “I ordered Fleche to be careful.”

  Shaking his head again, Duellos spoke in a low voice. “This fleet spent decades considering careful and cowardice to be two sides of the same coin. Aggressive action in any circumstance is almost engraved on their DNA. Fleche is less than two light-minutes from intercepting the planet, about seventeen minutes’ travel time if she maintains her current velocity. I would strongly advise reminding her of your orders.”

  This seemed like another good time to not just listen but also accept the advice. Geary touched his comm controls. “Fleche, this is Admiral Geary. Maintain caution while conducting your mission. There is a possibility of a serious threat hiding behind that gas giant. Check out the back side, then return to the formation. Geary, out.”

  The message should arrive a couple of minutes before Fleche and the gas giant reached each other as the warship zoomed in from the outer star system and the planet swung along its orbit.

  Fleche was fifteen light-minutes from Inspire when the light cruiser swooped over the northern pole of the gas giant and got its first look at the side hidden from view of the fleet. Geary watched intently as the images from Fleche appeared on his display. Everything he was seeing had happened fifteen minutes ago.

  Fleche’s combat systems sounded alerts as a HuK appeared around the curve of the planet. The HuK had been rising at a slow rate, heading toward the path that Fleche was taking, a dead giveaway that the HuK knew Fleche was coming.

  The HuK spun about and accelerated downward, skimming the upper atmosphere of the gas giant as it fled.

  Geary watched, appalled, as Fleche rolled, turned, and dove after the HuK in full pursuit. He felt a numbness inside and realized his hand was quivering above the comm controls, wanting to send the commands to the Alliance light cruiser to follow her orders, to finish searching the back side of the gas giant, and to return safely to the rest of the Alliance warships.

  But this had all happened fifteen minutes ago. Any order he sent would take fifteen minutes to arrive, and he knew with a sick certainty that would be too late.

  As Duellos had reminded him, he hadn’t been in command of this fleet that long. He had been in charge
a tiny fraction of the time since the war began, a war whose destructive and mindless path had favored ever-more-aggressive and mindless tactics as trained tacticians died en masse and new commanders sought to make up for lack of training and experience with a narrow focus on what they saw as courage and honor, and on a willingness to die rather than retreat.

  Geary had done a lot to change those attitudes. But he could not in a short time eradicate the false lessons created by a century of stubborn bloodletting and pursuit of personal glory. The fact that such attitudes were partly justified by claims that they embodied the true spirit of Black Jack, of him, had only made it harder.

  Now he watched Fleche in hot pursuit and waited for what he was certain would come.

  Two Syndic-design heavy cruisers appeared around the lower curve of the gas giant, bracketing Fleche and on top of her too fast for the light cruiser to react. The heavy cruisers were too close, the moment of engagement too fleeting, for missiles to be employed, but the two enemy ships each hurled out a volley of hell-lance particle beams and the metal ball bearings known as grapeshot. The fire lashed Fleche’s shields, collapsing them, some of the impacts going on to tear holes in the lightly armored Alliance warship.

  Geary could see the damage reports as they appeared on his display, showing that Fleche had suffered serious hits to her maneuvering systems as well as her weapons.

  He saw the helm orders appear as Fleche tried to alter her vector.

  Ten seconds after the heavy cruisers had flailed Fleche, the Alliance light cruiser caught sight of a massive shape like that of a squat shark rising around the curve of the gas giant. At the velocity the light cruiser was moving, there wasn’t even time for the crew to react before they were within range of the battleship’s weapons.

  Two and a half minutes after diving in all-out pursuit of the HuK, Fleche disintegrated under the hammerblows of the battleship’s weapons. None of the light cruiser’s escape pods left the ship. None of the crew had time to reach them and launch them.