“Why the hell . . . ?” Desjani demanded.
Geary was staring, trying to understand, when Desjani laughed.
“They programmed them to do what you would do!” she said.
“And I would throw away my chance to hit Ambaru?” Geary said.
“You would if it meant not abandoning one of your ships to the enemy!” Desjani laughed again. “Don’t you get it? You come back for injured ships, you don’t abandon comrades, that’s how you’ve fought, and those dark ships are programmed to fight like you did.”
Geary realized that he was smiling. “Nice. The dark ships aren’t thinking about it, they’re not responding to any moral imperative, they’re just doing what their programming tells them to do in a situation like this.” He hit his comm controls again. “All units in Task Force Dancer, immediate execute, come port one four degrees, up zero two degrees. Engage assigned targets when in range. Geary, out.”
His warships angling in faster to hit the slowed dark battle cruisers, Geary made sure that enough of his warships were targeted on each to ensure they would be knocked out. What would I do if I was on one of those battle cruisers? Dive down. And port or starboard? Starboard, to get back on a direct vector for Ambaru.
He ordered a slight, last-moment change of vectors on his warships as his formation slammed into the dark battle cruisers from one side. The seven Alliance battle cruisers and the remaining heavy cruisers, light cruisers, and destroyers in Task Force Dancer threw everything they had at the dark ships, three of the Alliance battle cruisers passing close enough to the dark ships to unleash their null field weapons that ate chunks out of the enemy warships. One of the dark ships deployed a null field as well, taking a fortunately small piece out of Intemperate.
Geary called out orders sending his formation curving up and over for a second firing pass in case one of the dark ships was still a threat to Ambaru. But as the results of the engagement were evaluated by the sensors of the Alliance ships, it became clear that wouldn’t be necessary.
One dark battle cruiser was gone, replaced by a spreading cloud of debris. The second consisted only of its forward portion, tumbling off at an angle, which self-destructed while Geary watched.
The dark heavy cruiser still survived, but Rosen was leading her heavy cruisers at it. When her firing run was complete, nothing was left of the dark heavy cruiser but pieces of wreckage.
Desjani let out a cross between a whistle and sigh, pointing to her display.
Ambaru Station was only two light-seconds away, everyone on it apparently still oblivious to how close they had come to destruction.
“All units in Task Force Dancer,” Geary sent. “Well done. We’re going to brake our way around the star, so that when we’re back in the vicinity of Ambaru we’ll be able to match the station’s orbit easily. All destroyers are priority for fuel cell replenishment.”
“What are you going to do about Ambaru?” Desjani asked.
“It looks like we may have to invade it.”
—
THE Marines came off the shuttle ramp in full combat mode, their battle armor sealed, their weapons active. They took up positions around the landing dock, scanning for threats. Behind them, the shuttle pulled away, making room for another shuttle also loaded with Marines.
Ambaru had a lot of docking stations. Right now, a dozen of those stations were receiving Marines who were equipped for battle and moving as if conducting an invasion of an enemy-held facility. General Carabali was aboard Dauntless, which had moved in close to Ambaru to oversee the assault.
“Admiral,” the Marine captain in charge of the force with Geary reported, “all we have in sight are two civilians, no weapons visible, broadcasting identification as station officials, dock supervision department.”
Geary studied the view from the captain’s battle armor. The two station officials, the sort who normally met incoming traffic, were staring at the Marines in shock. But despite their astonishment at being on the receiving end of an Alliance assault, both were smart enough to avoid doing anything rash. The two stood absolutely still, their arms extended to show empty hands.
The captain had waved forward two scouts, who scanned the surroundings outside the dock. “My scouts report all clear, Admiral. Just civilian pedestrians.”
“I’m on my way.” Geary, wearing only his working uniform, came down the ramp and nodded to the officials. “I’m sorry for this, but we don’t know what the situation is aboard this station. My ships have been unable to communicate with you.”
“Unable?” the senior official of the two asked, surprised. “There isn’t anything wrong with our comm systems.”
“Then you might explain why my ships kept getting an ‘incompatible message protocol’ response when we tried to talk to anyone on Ambaru,” Geary said.
The officials exchanged baffled glances. “We tried calling you on your inbound, Admiral,” the senior explained. “But our comm system said it couldn’t shake hands with yours. Are we . . . are we prisoners?”
“I hope not,” Geary said. “Where—”
His words were cut off as General Carabali called, her voice calm but authoritative. “Admiral, we have troop movements detected near shuttle docks seven, nine, and twelve. No specific data yet, just indications of troop presence in those areas.”
“What kind of troops?” Geary asked.
“Alliance ground forces.”
“Make sure your Marines hold fire until given authorization to shoot,” Geary said.
“Admiral?” The captain commanding this force of Marines sounded urgent enough to shift Geary’s attention instantly.
“What is it?”
“Our armor systems are fending off attempts at software upgrades,” the captain reported. “None of the updates are asking permission, just moving in and trying to apply themselves. If not for the firewalls we had added to our armor’s systems before boarding the shuttle, the new software would already be installing.”
“It’s all coming through official channels?” Geary asked.
“Yes, Admiral. All codes clear.”
“What are your suits replying?”
“Admiral, we’ve got the Potemkin-software routines running as a quarantined outer shell. Whoever sent the updates thinks they’ve successfully installed.”
Desjani had been listening in as well via Geary’s comm link. “Somebody tried to take out your Marines.”
“We have similar software upgrades being attempted on all Marine battle armor aboard Ambaru,” General Carabali reported. “All intrusions have been repelled but have mimicked successful intrusions to fool whoever sent in those upgrades.”
“Sir, our Potemkin routines are trying to disable our weapons and targeting systems,” the Marine captain with Geary reported.
“All ground forces detections on Marine battle armor have vanished from the Potemkin-sensor picture,” Carabali said.
“Same old game,” Desjani commented.
“But what are the ground forces seeing?” Geary wondered. “How is their armor reporting the Marines?” He looked outside the dock, seeing the area beyond now apparently deserted. “Someone has cut off this area from normal foot traffic.”
Geary checked his data pad, trying once again to access Ambaru’s internal comm net and once again finding all channels blocked to him.
He looked back at the two officials, who were still standing nervously, awaiting instructions. “I need your help.”
Both of the officials reacted with a mix of surprise and elation. “You need our help? Black Jack needs our help?”
“Yes.” Now wasn’t the time to express how much he disliked that nickname. “There are ground forces soldiers nearby. We don’t know what their armor’s sensors are telling them about our Marines. I need to talk to a ground forces officer. Not by comm link. Face-to-face. Will you go out there
, locate someone, and tell them I need to talk to them? There may be some danger, but you two are the least likely to provoke any overreaction, and so are the most likely to succeed without any adverse events taking place. I give my word of honor for the personal safe conduct of whoever agrees to talk to me.”
Both officials nodded, their eagerness shadowed by obvious concern over the prospect of being caught in the middle of a firefight. “We’ll do our best, sir.”
Geary watched them walk slowly out into the now-deserted areas outside the docks, knowing that ground forces soldiers must have those areas targeted and hoping that the software messing with comms and armor sensors did not provide a misleadingly threatening image of the two officials that might lead someone to fire. “How does everything look?” he asked Carabali.
“They’re waiting,” she said. “I don’t know what for.”
“Orders?”
“If I were them, Admiral, and receiving commands to move against what looked in every way like fellow Alliance personnel, I would be asking for confirmation. Especially since my Marines are just holding position and not trying to advance.”
“Good. Keep your people in place and keep their fingers off their triggers.”
A single shot could trigger a major fight.
Between men and women who were on the same side.
After five very long minutes, a single figure in ground forces battle armor stepped into view of Geary. “Everyone hold,” Geary ordered the Marines. “Do not target that soldier, do not aim any weapons in the direction of that soldier.”
He nerved himself, then took a couple of steps forward.
The soldier began walking as soon as Geary stopped, moving with a steady stride until coming to a halt directly before him. One hand raised and the soldier’s faceplate popped open. She saluted. “Major Problem, Admiral.”
He returned the salute. “What problem do you—”
“Excuse me, sir, that’s my name,” the soldier interrupted in long-suffering tones. “Major Jan Problem.”
“I see. I’m sorry,” Geary added, not able to think of anything else appropriate.
“I’ve gotten used to it, Admiral. Mostly. What’s going on, sir?”
“You tell me,” Geary said. “What is your armor telling you?”
She gestured toward the Marines. “Hostile forces. Contain. Disarm.”
“As you can see, they’re Alliance Marines.”
“Yes, sir. I did see that, which is why I know they should not be hostile, but if I try to disarm them, they are likely to become very hostile. My colonel has told us to hold position until further notice.”
“Did he give a reason?” Geary asked.
“Yes, sir. The orders to contain and disarm allegedly came from the ground forces commander in Varandal Star System within two minutes of your forces arriving on this station, but that officer is known by us to be on the primary inhabited world, five light-minutes from here. It would have taken at least ten minutes for our general to see what was happening and send those orders back to us. My colonel is trying to confirm where those orders actually came from.”
“There have been false orders issued in the name of Admiral Timbale as well,” Geary said. “I assure you, we are not here to act against the Alliance or in any unlawful manner. We are here because the software in Ambaru, all of it, including that in your battle armor, has been infected by malware which is selectively altering your sensor picture, blocking and changing communications, and possibly causing other harm. We have patches you can use to reboot your systems and give you full control over them again.”
“That’s why the Marines aren’t answering us?” Major Problem asked, her eyes widening in surprise. “Their comms are messed up?”
“Actually, the Marine comms are fine. It’s your comms that are blocking transmissions from the Marines, and from me, and who knows what else.”
“Excuse me, sir.” The major began speaking into her comm system, paused, spoke again, paused, then muttered a few words under her breath. “I tried telling my colonel, and my own comms cut off.”
“You’ll have to do a face-to-face,” Geary said. “Like we are doing here.”
“This is the Syndics, right, Admiral? Playing their damned games again.”
Geary took a deep breath before replying. “We don’t know for certain who is responsible. We only know that the malware involved is coming in through official updates and has all of the latest code approvals and accesses.” He offered some data coins. “These contain the software patches you’ll need.”
The major took them, eyeing the coins dubiously. “These are going to impact official updates? Who authorized the patches, sir? I know my colonel will want to know.”
“I’ve authorized them,” Geary said.
“You’re not in our chain of command, sir, but I’ll leave that up to my colonel to decide.” She frowned, listening as a message came in over her armor’s comm circuit. “Sir, we just received orders directly from Admiral Timbale. Not just the colonel. All of us.”
“Those orders didn’t come from Admiral Timbale,” Geary said. “I haven’t been able to contact him myself for some time. Until I talk to him face-to-face, I won’t believe any messages I receive, even if they have all of the proper authentication codes.”
“I need to pass that on as well. With your permission, Admiral, I will rejoin my forces and personally brief my colonel on what you have told me.”
“The sooner, the better,” Geary said, returning the major’s salute.
He briefed General Carabali and Desjani on what he had learned as he watched the major walk briskly back to her lines. “Make sure the Marines know the ground forces don’t intend moving in, and they should not target or fire on the ground forces under any circumstances. I don’t want anyone accidentally letting off a round at Major Problem.”
“If I were Major Problem,” Carabali commented, “I’d get myself busted to captain as fast as I could. It looks like the ground forces are handling this professionally, but I think I see something else in their reactions.”
“What’s that?” Geary asked.
“It feels as if the ground forces didn’t entirely trust their sensors or comms before now. They’re double-checking orders, and they’re doing visual confirmations of what their sensors tell them. Things must have been happening that have caused the ground forces to adopt such measures.”
“Problems with the official software that created problems for even routine operations by the ground forces?”
“That’s entirely possible, Admiral. The software we use is so complex and interrelated that if you pull one string of code, it creates knots in all kinds of places. Those secret subroutines might have been causing problems all across the board, problems that were having a growing impact on the effectiveness of our combat systems.”
“It’s a good thing we beat the Syndics when we did,” Desjani commented. “From the look of things, we were well on our way to defeating ourselves.”
That might still happen, Geary thought, hoping that he hadn’t accidentally said it out loud. “Once we get this situation stabilized and find Admiral Timbale, I’ll meet with all of the senior military and civilian officials on Ambaru. Then we’ll have to brief the senior ground forces and aerospace forces commanders as well.”
“A lot of other people could have gone to Ambaru to set up that meeting,” she said. “You shouldn’t be risking yourself.”
“Everyone needs to know that I am giving the orders they are seeing,” he said. “My being here in person is the only way to make sure that happens. Would those station officials have risked walking to the ground forces if anyone but I had asked?”
Desjani changed the subject quickly enough to make it clear she knew she would not win the argument. “We’re not spotting any unusual activity in space. No shuttle launches, no alerting of station
defenses. It’s all quiet out here.”
“That’s good.” He looked around, seeing what still appeared to be a perfectly normal view from a shuttle dock on Ambaru if you didn’t count the total lack of passing traffic. “But from here it all seems quiet inside the station as well, and we know it isn’t. Hold on. More company is coming.”
Instead of another ground forces officer as Geary had expected, two civilians were walking into the dock, one man and one woman. Neither were the officials he had sent off earlier to speak to the ground forces. Both looked official even though neither wore an obvious uniform. Somehow, though, their generic suits gave the impression of still being a kind of uniform.
They stopped before Geary, and the elder of the two smiled politely at him. “Admiral, we have to speak with you urgently. It is a matter of Alliance security.”
“Is it?” Geary asked. “I’m sort of busy at the moment with matters of Alliance security.”
“We’re going to defuse all of that, Admiral,” the younger of the two said in tones of utter confidence that grated on Geary’s nerves.
“Are you?” he asked. “And just who do you work for?”
“The Alliance, Admiral.”
“That’s nice. Exactly what part of the Alliance?” Geary pressed.
“Sir,” the younger of the two said, “we can tell you that when we are in a secure location, you are briefed into several very important programs, and the necessary security oaths are given—”
“No,” Geary said, holding up one hand, palm out, to emphasize the word. “I’m waiting here. Anything you have to tell me you can say here and now.”
“I’m sorry, Admiral, but we’re not allowed to,” the elder explained. “Please. We don’t want to have to insist.”
“I don’t want you to have to insist, either,” Geary said. “What’s wrong with the comm systems on Ambaru?”
“Once you are read into the appropriate programs and swear to the nondisclosure requirements—”
“No,” Geary repeated.
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