The Lost Fleet: Dauntless

by Jack Campbell

  He studied the movement vectors, getting the feel of them with those first five HuKs gone, and could see the answer. “He might’ve done it.”

  “But not yet,” Desjani advised.

  The next wave of HuKs met another barrage of grapeshot and hell-lances. Here and there, a specter crept through the confusion to hammer Syndic shields, but four of the five HuKs made it past. Three had been slowed appreciably, though, losing velocity to the impacts of the grapeshot and acceleration capability to damage. The fourth had clearly expended a lot of weaponry just getting safely past Repulse.

  “He’s done it,” Desjani stated, her voice rising with elation. “I recommend that you tell the Titan’s escorts to hit that leading HuK with a half-dozen specters fired out of their stern launchers. The HuK won’t be able to survive that after everything it tossed out to get past Repulse, not unless it deviates from its course, and if it does that, it won’t be able to get to Titan before Titan jumps.”

  “Very well. Order them to do that, if you please.” He didn’t listen as Desjani passed on the order, watching instead as more HuKs, this time with light cruisers in support, came up on Repulse and lashed the Alliance ship with fire as they dashed past. Even though the Syndic ships were moving too fast to have undistorted views of the outside universe, Repulse had taken more damage and was too badly hurt to maneuver quickly enough to avoid shots aimed at her estimated position. Repulse got off another shot from its null-field, but the light cruiser it’d been aimed at danced aside, taking only a glancing blow to its shields.

  The battle was now seventy light-seconds away from Dauntless. The displays could only tell Geary what had been happening one minute and ten seconds ago, but Geary still knew exactly what it was like on the Repulse at this moment. He’d been in the same situation, though facing better odds. The expendable weaponry, the grapeshot and the specters, would be used up. The ship’s shields would be flaring almost constantly on all sides, as incoming fire drained and shredded the outer defensive layers. Then would come the occasional impact of hits on the hull as the shields suffered spot failures, like random blows from the hammer of a blind giant, before the shields failed completely. The hell-lance batteries would keep firing, falling silent individually or in clusters as they or their power supplies were shattered. And, coming faster and faster, balls of metal and spears of superheated gases would race through the hull from side to side and end to end, smashing anything and anyone in their paths.

  “Repulse is launching survival pods.”

  It was getting hard to tell exactly what was happening. The battle had thrown out so much junk that some of it was obscuring the view of the action. But Dauntless’s systems could still spot the beacons as survival pods were ejected from the Repulse. Dauntless’s systems automatically calculated intercept options to the survival pods, telling Geary what he’d need to do to try to pick up survivors from Repulse. He stared at the courses, seeing how they crossed through the thick of the oncoming Syndic fleet, knowing he couldn’t help the sailors in those pods now. They’d be picked up by the Syndics once the main battle was over, doomed to life in the Syndic labor camps. But I won’t forget my promise to you, Michael Geary. If it’s humanly possible, I’ll get them out of there someday.

  Syndic ships were passing Repulse almost continuously now, none of them stopping to engage, but simply firing as they passed and letting their numbers overwhelm the lone Alliance ship. Heavy cruisers began sweeping by, adding their weight to the weapons pounding Repulse.

  “As of seventy-five light-seconds ago, Repulse was no longer firing. All weapons appear to be disabled or destroyed.”

  Geary simply nodded, not trusting himself to speak. The survival pods were still coming out occasionally, but too few of them.

  “We’ve received a core-destruct initiation signal from Repulse.”

  “How long until the core blows?” Geary didn’t recognize the voice at first, then realized it was his own.

  “Uncertain. The same for the intensity of the overload. We don’t know how much damage the core has already taken.”

  “Understood.” Repulse might already be gone, the light from the event not yet having reached Dauntless. He’d know for certain soon. Geary pulled his attention away from the battle for a moment, seeing the ships of the Alliance fleet plunging into the special area of the gravity well around this star where conditions were right to enable the transition into the jump space where other stars were only weeks or months of travel away. “Commander Cresida’s plan said ships today can make jumps at up to point one light speed.”

  “That’s correct,” Desjani advised. “The jump drive systems reached that capability before the hypernet stopped further research and development.”

  “Good,” Geary commented tonelessly. “None of our ships will have to slow down to make the jump.”

  Titan was almost there, the movement vectors of the leading Syndic ships closing frantically. The closest Syndic HuK, the one that had barely made it past Repulse, shattered into huge fragments as specters from Titan’s escort slammed into it. Other Syndic ships were vainly reaching toward the big Alliance ship and just falling short of intercepts in time to stop her and her escorts as they vanished into jump. More of the leading Syndic ships, all light units, started coming apart as those heavy Alliance ships that hadn’t yet jumped threw barrages at them. The surviving Syndic HuKs braked and frantically changed vectors, trying to cripple some other Alliance ship before it could jump, without getting annihilated themselves.

  Geary looked back, and Repulse was gone. A spreading zone of wreckage and gases in the midst of the oncoming Syndic fleet marked the site of her death. May the living stars guide you, and our ancestors welcome you, Michael Geary. Farewell until we meet again in that place. “All remaining ships. Jump as soon as possible. I say again. Jump as soon as possible. Now, now, now.”

  THREE

  Jump space hadn’t changed in the slightest. Geary knew he shouldn’t have expected it to have changed (what was a human standard century to the life of the universe?), but he’d been haunted by the thought that the new hypernet systems would somehow be visible threading through the emptiness. Instead, jump space presented only the same vista of an endless drab black that always seemed just on the verge of turning into darkest gray. Splayed across that vastness were rare splashes of light, following no understood pattern and representing something that remained unknown even now.

  “The sailors say the lights are the homes of our ancestors.”

  Geary looked toward Captain Desjani. “They said that in my time as well.” He didn’t feel like talking but felt he should. She’d taken the time to come see him, in this large stateroom that’d once belonged to Admiral Bloch and was now his home. Geary didn’t add that since being rescued he couldn’t look at the gray infinity of jump space without having his bones start to ache as if the cold they’d experienced in hibernation would never leave them.

  Desjani stared at the display for a moment before speaking. “Some of the sailors are saying you’ve been there. In the lights. That you were waiting there until now, when the Alliance needed you.”

  He started laughing, unable to resist even though he could hear the strain showing through the sound. “I think if I’d had any choice in the matter, I wouldn’t have come back now.”

  “Well, they’re not saying it was a time you chose. They’re saying you were needed.”

  “I see.” Geary stopped laughing and gazed at her. “What do you think?”

  “The truth?”

  “That’s all I ever want from you.”

  Desjani smiled. “Fair enough. I think that if our ancestors were to intervene directly in events, and if they had chosen to bring you to this fleet when they did, then it was a very good thing.”

  “Captain, in case it hasn’t become clear to you yet, I’m not that Black Jack Geary you heard about in school.”

  “No,” she agreed. “You’re better than that.”

  “What?”<
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  “I’m serious.” Captain Desjani leaned forward, gesturing with one hand for emphasis. “A legendary hero can inspire, but they’re not much help when it comes to concrete actions. I’m not sure the Black Jack Geary I always heard about would’ve led this fleet out of the Syndic home system. You did.”

  “Because you all think I am Black Jack Geary!”

  “But you are that man! If you weren’t, then any of us who’d survived would currently be on our way to Syndic labor camps. You know that’s true. If you hadn’t been there, the fleet would’ve been destroyed.”

  Geary made a face. “You’re assuming no one else would’ve risen to the occasion. You, or Captain Duellos, for example.”

  “Captains Faresa and Numos are both senior to me in length of service, and to Captain Duellos as well. They wouldn’t have followed us. Maybe a few of us would’ve thought to try fleeing through the jump point, but not enough to have a chance of surviving the long trip home. No, the fleet would’ve fallen apart and died ship by ship.” Desjani grimaced, then smiled again. “You prevented that.”

  Geary shrugged, avoiding directly responding to what she’d said. “You told me you had something for me?”

  “Yes. You’ve received a message from Commander Cresida on the Furious.”

  He gave her a confused look. “Transmitted just before we jumped?”

  “No. A means to transmit messages in jump space was developed quite a while ago. We can’t run high-rate data streams, but we can send simple messages.”

  “Oh.” He pondered “quite a while ago” for just a moment before recalling what had prompted the question. “What does Commander Cresida want?” Desjani passed Geary a notepad. He looked down at it, reading the short message. “She’s offering her resignation?”

  Desjani shook her head as Geary looked at her. “I didn’t read the message, Captain Geary. It was ‘personal for’ you.”

  “Oh.” I’ve got to stop saying that. “Well, she is. She’s offering to resign because of Repulse.” Saying the name made the very recent memory hit him like a blow in the gut.

  “But you ordered—”

  “The Captain of the Repulse volunteered,” Geary stated, his voice sounding bleak even to him. “No. Because the plan she developed required the sacrifice of another ship to ensure Titan made the jump.” Geary slumped, staring at the notepad and wondering if he needed another boost of meds or if he was just reacting to the stress of thinking about what had gone wrong and what that had cost. She tried. When just about everyone else was sitting around planning their funerals, Cresida offered to work that plan. Michael Geary liked her, I think. And I approved that plan. Me. “I don’t think there was any other way to get Titan out of there. Not with what she had to work with.” Desjani watched him, saying nothing. “Can I write my response on here?”

  “Yes,” she replied. “The shorter the better, of course.”

  Geary took the stylus and wrote. To Commander Cresida, ASN Furious. Request denied. You retain my full confidence. Respectfully, John Geary, Captain, ASN.

  He handed it back to Desjani, who looked a question at him. Geary indicated she should read. She did so, nodded, then smiled slightly. “Just what I’d have expected of you, sir.”

  Geary watched her, feeling an emptiness inside. Everything I do, they interpret as being what they’d expect of Black Jack Geary. Or someone even better than the legendary Black Jack Geary! Ancestors help us all. Why can’t they just know me, as I really am?

  But, then, how much do I know them?

  He took another look at Captain Desjani, trying to see her as if for the first time. “What’s your first name, anyway?”

  She smiled briefly. “Tanya.”

  “I don’t think I’ve known anyone named Tanya before.”

  “The name became fairly popular at one time. You know how that goes. There’s a lot of women in my generation named Tanya.”

  “Yeah. Names do come and go, don’t they? Where’re you from?”

  “Kosatka.”

  “Really? I’ve been to Kosatka.”

  Desjani looked disbelieving. “In-system or landfall?”

  “Landfall.” The memories tumbled out and left a pleasant glow in their wake. “I was just a junior officer, then. My ship got sent to Kosatka as part of an official Alliance representation for a royal wedding. Some really big deal. The whole planet went sort of manic over it, and they fell over themselves being nice to us. I’ve never gotten so many free drinks and meals.” Geary smiled at her, then saw the lack of recognition on her face. “I guess it didn’t make history.”

  “Uh, no. I suppose not.” Desjani smiled politely.

  “Kosatka doesn’t pay nearly as much attention to the royal family as it used to.”

  Geary nodded, trying to keep his own smile in place. “Yesterday’s unforgettable pomp and circumstance got forgotten pretty quickly, I guess.”

  “But, still, I’m not sure anyone remembers you were on Kosatka. That’s something special. Did you like it?”

  His smile turned genuine again. “Yeah. I don’t remember any spectacular scenery or anything like that, but it seemed like a real welcoming, comfortable place. Some of the crew talked about going back there to live once they’d retired.” He forced a laugh. “I bet it’s changed, though.”

  “Not that much. I haven’t been home in a long time, but that’s how I remember it.”

  “Sure you do. It’s home.” They sat silent for a moment, then Geary exhaled heavily. “So, how is home?”

  “Sir?”

  “Home. The Alliance. What’s it like?”

  “It’s…still the Alliance.” She shook her head, looking older and more tired than just a moment ago. “It’s been a very long war. So much has to go into the military, to build new ships, new defenses, new ground forces. And so many of the young have to go into those same things. All of our worlds have such wealth when combined, but it’s being worn away.”

  Geary frowned down at his hands, not wanting to see her face just then. “Tell me the truth. Are the Syndics winning?”

  “No!” The answer came so quickly that Geary thought it must reflect some sort of faith rather than professional analysis. “But neither are we,” Desjani conceded. “It’s too hard. The distances involved, the ability of each side to recover from losses and field new forces, the balance in weaponry.” Desjani sighed. “It’s been a stalemate for a long time.”

  Stalemate. It made sense, for exactly the reasons Desjani gave. Both the Alliance and the Syndicate Worlds were too big to be defeated in less than centuries of war. “Why the hell did the Syndicate Worlds start an unwinnable war anyway?”

  Desjani shrugged. “You know what they’re like. A corporate state run by dictators who call themselves servants of the people they enslave. The free worlds of the Alliance were a constant threat to the dictators of the Syndicate Worlds, living examples that representative government and civil liberties could coexist with greater security and prosperity than the Syndics could ever dream of. That’s why the Rift Federation and the Callas Republic ended up joining with the Alliance in the war. If the Syndics succeeded in crushing the Alliance, they’d go after any remaining free worlds next.”

  Geary nodded. “The Syndic leadership was always worried about revolt by some of its worlds. That’s why they attacked us when they did? Because turning the Alliance from an attractive alternative to a wartime threat was the only way to keep control of their own populace?”

  This time Desjani frowned slightly, then shrugged again. “I suppose, sir. To be honest, the war started a very long time ago. I never really studied the exact circumstances. All that matters to me, and to everyone else in the Alliance today of course, is that the Syndics launched an unprovoked attack on us. Or rather, on our ancestors. We can’t allow them to benefit from that.”

  “Have they?” Geary asked.

  “Not that I know of,” Desjani replied with a fierce grin. Then her smile faded. “Nor have we, needless to say.�
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  “Nobody’s benefiting, and no one can win. Why not end the thing, then? Negotiate.”

  Her head whipped up, and she stared at him. “We can’t!”

  “But if neither the Alliance nor the Syndics can win—”

  “We couldn’t trust them! They won’t honor any agreement. You know that. The attack you held off so long ago was a surprise blow, an unprovoked stab in the back! No.” She shook her head, with anger this time. “Negotiations are impossible with creatures like the Syndicate Worlds. They need to be crushed so that their evil won’t spread further, won’t result in the murder of more innocents. No matter what it costs.”

  He looked away again, thinking about what a century of warfare can do not just to economies but also to minds. I guess Desjani’s right that the exact reasons the Syndics attacked a century ago aren’t that important anymore. But I’ll have to try to remember to look it up sometime, try to find out what exact reasons caused this war instead of just laying it at the feet of the immoral nature of the Syndic leaders. Not that the Syndics haven’t already shown themselves to be capable of horrible acts. Admiral Bloch could certainly testify to the futility of negotiations with them. But if neither side can win and neither side will negotiate, that dooms everyone, good or bad, to endless war. Geary glanced back at Desjani and saw she was watching him now with calm certainty. Certain I’ll agree with her, because aren’t I the legendary Black Jack Geary?

  As if reading his mind, Captain Desjani nodded at that moment. “You see how important it is that we get home. The strike at the Syndic home system might’ve been the means for us to finally tip the balance. It failed, but if we can get the Syndic hypernet key home and get it duplicated, the Syndics will face an impossible situation. They’ll have to either take down their own hypernet or know we can use it against them at any time and any place on the net.”