Leviathan

by Jack Campbell

  “Do what?” he asked, even though he was pretty sure what she meant.

  “Solve all of our problems by riding into Unity aboard a silver starship,” Rione said. “You can save the Alliance in a heartbeat simply by announcing that you were temporarily taking charge in order to sort things out. The vast majority of the citizens and of the military would not just accept that but celebrate it.”

  “Save the Alliance?” Geary asked, his anger clear. “That sounds to me like destroying the Alliance in the name of saving it.”

  “I agree with you.” She shrugged again, looking away. “That’s your dilemma. The problem can be easily solved, but the solution will be worse than the problem. And you refuse to take that simple, and destructive, course of action.”

  “Dammit, isn’t there a good option left?”

  “You’re asking me? The same good option there has always been. The citizens take the responsibility for voting for those who will look out for the welfare of everyone, not just their own special interests. Good luck counting on that, though. They’d prefer someone to ride in aboard that silver starship and save them the trouble.”

  He started to reply, then abruptly laughed. “We always look at it backwards, don’t we?”

  Rione raised an eyebrow at him. “Look at what backwards?”

  “Democracies. Voting. People are always talking about demanding more and better performance from elected officials, but when you get right down to it, shouldn’t a democracy demand more and better performance from the citizens who vote? If they do their job well, then the quality of those they elect will naturally follow.”

  “I suppose.” She shook her head, her expression morose. “But not entirely true. The leaders have to be worthy, have to avoid the temptations of power, have to be honest even when the people don’t want honesty. Democracy is a team sport, Admiral. If everyone doesn’t play their position well, the whole team suffers.”

  He had thought himself tired out, but now stood up and began pacing restlessly. “Is that why you’re here? To tell me there’s nothing I can do that won’t make things worse?”

  “No. If nothing else, what you don’t do is always important. Which means you are doing the right things. I thought you needed to hear that.” Rione looked down at her hands as she intertwined her fingers in a twisting pattern. “I couldn’t find him.”

  “Your husband?”

  “Not a trace. Paol has disappeared.”

  Geary fought down a wave of anger. “They promised they would cure him. They promised they could lift the mental block that was put on him for security purposes, a mental block that was illegal under Alliance law, and correct the mental damage that block was causing.”

  “Some of them may have been sincere in their promises. Others lied. All I know is that I cannot find any clue to my husband’s fate. Even if they had killed him, I should have been able to find some sign of that.” She clenched her hands into fists. “I’m sure it is not a coincidence that I’ve been marked for disappearance by someone or something. Some part of the government that doesn’t want questions asked or information revealed.”

  “We’ve encountered some agents of that,” Geary said. “I’ve got two under detention.”

  Rione gave him a keen look. “And no one has shown up demanding their release?”

  “Apparently, they’re not supposed to exist,” Geary replied. “So no one has claimed them or been willing to admit they do exist.”

  “That must pose an awful dilemma for someone.” Rione laughed harshly. “What are you going to do, Admiral? Go on following orders like a good little officer?”

  “It’s that or resign,” Geary said. “But, so far, there aren’t a lot of orders showing up. I can’t be sure, but I think the government has tied itself in a knot over the dark ships. They don’t want to admit they built the dark ships, they don’t want to admit the dark ships are running amuck, they don’t want to admit my available ships are weaker than the surviving dark ship force. They’re not throwing up barriers, not telling me I can’t deal with the dark ships in any way necessary to stop them, but they seem to be hoping I’ll just do that as part of my standing orders to defend the Alliance.”

  She smiled. “Isn’t it amazing how many very powerful people confronted with an adverse outcome suddenly find themselves unable to do anything? How they suddenly declare themselves powerless? You’re going to stop the dark ships, then? How?”

  It was his turn to shrug. “You said that you listened in to the conference.”

  “Yes. A secret base. One you apparently cannot reach.” Rione pondered that. “I have to admit that you have a better plan so far than I do. I know that I’m going to find my husband, that I’m going to make those responsible pay, but I am currently at a total loss for the details on how to do that.” She looked around. “Didn’t you used to keep wine in here?”

  “Not at the moment.” Geary regarded her, resting his chin on his interlaced hands, and decided to confide completely in Rione. “What do you know about Unity Alternate?”

  Rione paused, then shot a sharp look his way. “A myth, I thought, though there were some classified programs and expenditures I became aware of during the war that led me to wonder about that.”

  “They never briefed you on it?”

  “Me?” Rione asked. “I may have been a senator of the Alliance, and co-president of the Callas Republic, and briefly a member of the grand council, but I was also a citizen of an allied power, not a citizen of the Alliance itself. There were things I was never officially told but learned about anyway. I have no idea how many things there were that I wasn’t told about and never found out about. Are you saying that you’ve actually found Unity Alternate?”

  “We think we know where it is, and we think we know why no one has ever been able to find it. But we don’t know everything that might be there,” Geary added. “Anything you can suggest would be useful.”

  She spent nearly a minute thinking, her eyes now focused on a far corner. “Supposedly enough to keep the government and the military running if Unity fell to the Syndics. That’s the long-running legend, anyway. But however many people they planned for if the worst happened, there can’t be that many there on a routine basis. They couldn’t keep the secret if masses of people were being shuttled in and out.”

  “A skeleton crew running things?”

  “That’s what I would guess.”

  “It has occurred to me that other things beside the dark ships, other people, could be hidden at Unity Alternate,” Geary said.

  Rione inhaled slowly and deeply, her only external reaction to the news. “People whose existence elsewhere would create problems? That’s very insightful, Admiral. That is where my husband must be. The one place I haven’t looked, because I didn’t think it really existed.”

  “We think Invincible is there as well. It has also disappeared without a trace.”

  “The alien battleship? Something that massive would be very, very hard to hide. All right, do you want me to beg? Where is it?”

  “At a binary star system,” Geary said. “Not too far from here as interstellar distances go.”

  She gazed back at him, then laughed softly. “Oh, they were clever. How did you figure it out?”

  “The Dancers practically drew a bull’s-eye on it for us.”

  “I owe them.” Rione smiled winningly at him. “You’re going there?”

  “We’re going there. To destroy the dark ship base.”

  “And how, Admiral Black Jack, do you intend justifying attacking Unity Alternate?” Rione asked.

  He spread his hands. “As far as we can determine, Unity Alternate has been occupied and is being used by a hostile force. The only way to save Unity Alternate is . . .”

  “To destroy it?” Rione smiled again. “Please let me come along and assist in your efforts.”

  Geary
smiled back. “You’d come along whether I said you could or not, wouldn’t you?”

  “I’d find a way, yes.”

  “Then I’d much rather have you out in the open, where I can keep my eyes on you. I’ll notify the commanding officer of Dauntless that you’re aboard again and need a stateroom.”

  “And won’t she be thrilled to hear that.”

  “Actually,” Geary said, “she’s been worried about you and your husband.”

  Rione twisted her mouth and looked off at an angle. “Despite everything.”

  “She doesn’t like you or trust you much, but Tanya doesn’t like seeing people hurt.”

  “Unless she’s the one hurting them, you mean? With some large weapon?” Rione sighed. “I’m a rotten bitch. I use people. I don’t know why anyone should care what happens to me.”

  “You’ve got some redeeming qualities,” Geary said. “I know you deserve better than you’ve received from the Alliance. And I mean to do what I can to make things right.”

  “The Alliance . . . the Alliance is more than some of the people who claim to represent its interests. I’ll take care of making things right, Admiral. Just get me where I can find my husband, and where I’m within reach of some of those who decided they had the right to play God with his life and mine.”

  “I’ll do my best,” Geary said. “If you have any sources who can help us find out how to access the hypernet gate that must be at Unity Alternate, it would help get us all there.”

  “I’ll do everything I can.” Rione stood up, her eyes downcast. “I long since gave up on the idea that common decency existed in most people, and I . . . don’t tend to make friends easily. I don’t know entirely why you are helping me, but I do appreciate it. Thank you.”

  Geary smiled sardonically at her even though he felt the pain coming off Rione. He knew she wouldn’t want sympathy, wouldn’t want any acknowledgment that she had betrayed vulnerability. “To be honest, Madam Co-President, Senator, Emissary, you do make some friends. Not easily, but it happens occasionally despite your best efforts.”

  Rione laughed. “We’ve come a long ways, Admiral. Now let’s go to Unity Alternate. But first, I happen to know there’s another visitor on the way for you, due here tomorrow.”

  “Who?” Geary asked.

  “Someone important. She might even have what you and I most want at this moment.”

  TEN

  THE next day, Geary was not surprised to get a call from Admiral Timbale asking him to stop by Ambaru Station for a vaguely defined liaison conference. Timbale met him at the shuttle dock, waved away the Marines and soldiers providing security for Geary and Timbale, and led the way deeper inside Ambaru, along passageways that had a curious absence of other pedestrians. “How does everything look?” Timbale asked as they walked. “There’s something I wanted to show you,” he added before Geary could respond.

  Timbale offered a stream of remarks about the status of Ambaru and the forces at Varandal under his command, but nothing of great consequence. Geary tried to restrain his curiosity as he walked with Timbale into an area of Ambaru he thought he recognized.

  They came to a stop before a high-security hatch that Geary knew he had seen before. Outside of it stood several special forces ground troops, none of them armored but all carrying weapons, and all alert in the manner of men and women trained to be aware of their surroundings and any potential threat.

  “Who’s in there?” Geary asked.

  “No one,” Timbale replied. “I thought you might want to go inside for a few minutes, though.” He leaned close and murmured more of an explanation. “There’s no one in there, but the person who isn’t in there has come here to speak to you.”

  “I see,” Geary said. “I guess I’ll take a look around in there, then.” One of the special forces soldiers opened the hatch without looking inside, then saluted as Geary walked in.

  There was one person sitting in the room that supposedly contained no one. Geary stood still as the hatch sealed behind him. “Senator Unruh. I’ve seen you before, but we haven’t formally met before this.”

  Unruh smiled briefly. “We still haven’t met. I’m not here.” Her eyes challenged him to debate the point.

  Instead, he nodded again. This sort of thing would have flummoxed him once, but after his experiences in the last year, he had learned to roll with whatever happened until he figured out why it was happening. “You’re not here. Why isn’t Senator Navarro or Senator Sakai not here?”

  “Because they’re both seen as tied to you,” Unruh explained, leaning back in her seat. “Yes, even ‘Slick’ Sakai, who as a rule keeps his every thought and preference carefully concealed, has betrayed what can only be described as trust in Admiral Black Jack Geary. I, on the other hand, have only personally seen you once, during that interrogation of you by representatives of the grand council, and I have never exchanged messages with you. No one is watching me to see if I am sneaking away to talk to the great Black Jack instead of sneaking away to plot my political future with rich and influential donors whose identities are best kept hidden.”

  “Why are you not here instead of plotting with those donors?” Geary asked.

  “Because most of those donors don’t actually exist in my case, and because we, the Senate, have created a monster, and you are just about our only hope for dealing with it,” Unruh explained.

  “The dark ships?”

  “Yes. The dark ships, as you call them. The product of an entire covert structure that made that construction program possible and allowed it to be hidden. A covert structure that has proven unexpectedly hard to direct.” She grimaced. “It shouldn’t have been unexpected. Over the last several decades, the Alliance government built something that was designed to operate invisibly. It’s gotten so good at that we can no longer be certain what it is doing.”

  “They’re not required to report to anyone?”

  “Different theys are indeed required to report to different someones,” Unruh agreed. “But it has only recently occurred to a variety of senior officials that they have no way of knowing whether or not those organizations are indeed making the reports they are supposed to make. I know what I’ve been told about my own piece of that covert pie, but there is no means for me to learn whether I’ve been told all I should have been or what else is happening outside of my supposed oversight.”

  “Can’t you demand answers?” Geary said. “Fire people who don’t provide the answers?”

  Unruh leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table and gazing at Geary. “I have more than sufficient grounds for assuming that some of those people already regard me as one of the enemies their organizations were designed to protect the Alliance against. If I go after them, I don’t know what might happen.”

  “Then there has already been a coup against the government,” Geary said angrily. “Who is giving the orders at Unity?”

  “The Senate will be, soon enough, as we should have been all along. Why do you think the government wanted not just most of your assault transports but also most of your Marines, Admiral? It wasn’t because we wanted to disarm you.” Unruh smiled, a baring of her incisors that held no humor at all. “On the contrary. It finally occurred to enough people in high places that the people they have been worried about, the front-line combatants who long ago decided the Alliance government was a big part of the problems they faced, are actually among the people we can completely trust. You have provided a powerful example of support for the government. We know that your Marines will follow orders from the government.”

  “Lawful orders,” Geary said.

  “Absolutely,” Unruh agreed. “To put it bluntly, we want those Marines to protect the government against some of the other forces we created in the name of protecting the Alliance. When we move against the people who misled us as to the programs we were approving, and who have acted with far too m
uch autonomy under the veils of excessive secrecy, we want those Marines guarding us and our offices.”

  “You’ve finally figured out that they aren’t the enemy?” Geary asked. “That I’m not the enemy?”

  “We’ve spent a century at war, Admiral,” Unruh said. “A century of fear and death and attacks and reprisals and a foe who would do anything except stop fighting us. After a while, everyone and everything looks dangerous. I want your promise, your word of honor, that you will follow lawful orders and will not move against the government.”

  Geary scowled at the senator. “Why do I need to do that? How many times have I said exactly that in public and to representatives of the government? How many times have I clearly demonstrated that I would follow orders and support the government?”

  “You have done that,” Unruh conceded. “But I ask for the affirmation once again because there are still some who fear you. I apologize for the implied insult to your honor. I apologize to your ancestors, who are also insulted by the implication that you would act in a dishonorable manner. Will you give me that statement?”

  “I’ll give it to you. Will they listen this time?”

  “Let’s hope so.” Unruh rubbed her mouth, then focused back on him. “We need you to stop them. The Defender Fleet.”

  “That’s the official name of the dark ships?” Geary asked.

  “Yes. Can you do it? I’ve seen some reports from Bhavan.”

  “My fleet very nearly got destroyed at Bhavan.” He saw the worry flare in Senator Unruh’s eyes. “The dark ships outnumber my own forces, they’re brand-new where my warships have seen a lot of damage which I have never had the money, time, or resources to get completely repaired, I have only received a few replacements for the losses the fleet has suffered, and the artificial intelligences running the dark ships are programmed specifically to counter me. Since Bhavan, I have been unable to come up with any battle scenario in which my fleet can triumph without being practically wiped out itself.”