Leviathan

by Jack Campbell

  “So we’re saving the Alliance?” Desjani asked.

  He gave her a flat look, knowing that she was referring to the legend that Black Jack would return to “save the Alliance.” “Yes.”

  “Good. I just wanted to be clear on that. When do we roll?”

  “I need to check the status of our repair work and resupply,” Geary said, “but the same concerns apply as before. We need to give the dark ships enough time to resupply and leave their base again. Another week, at least, I think.”

  She gave him a cautionary look. “They’ll come after you again. If we wait too long, they may show up here.”

  That was an ugly thought. “You’re right. Let’s find out if we can get moving within a week.”

  Once at his stateroom, Geary called Captain Smythe. “One week. I want everything out of dock and ready to go.”

  “Admiral, I want . . . never mind. I can make it happen, but not everything is going to be done. You’re still facing the possibility of system failures on your ships, just like that main propulsion unit that failed on Fearless at Bhavan.”

  “I understand. Make it happen.”

  “Aye, aye, sir. As far as funding goes . . .”

  “I have it on very good authority that the funding we need will materialize soon,” Geary said. “Through official channels.”

  Smythe looked impressed. “How did you manage that?”

  “I asked nicely.”

  Despite Senator Unruh’s warning that the dark ships might still be getting information about what Geary was doing, there was no way to hide the preparations necessary for an offensive using the entire force remaining to First Fleet. But he still took some extra efforts to conceal one aspect of that offensive, personally summoning two officers to his stateroom on Dauntless rather than risking using a comm channel that could be tapped into.

  In person, Marine Colonel Rico wore the same serious expression as his official portrait. The commanding officer of the Third Brigade stood at attention, giving the impression that he never really relaxed. It wasn’t a nervous sort of tension but rather the kind of alertness that assumed every moment required full attention lest something important be missed. In someone who lacked confidence in themselves and others, that would have produced a twitchy, perpetually fearful boss who made life hell for everyone under them. But Rico conveyed a sense of assurance that made his constant watchfulness reassuring rather than worrying.

  Beside him stood Commander Young, captain of the assault transport Mistral. Much more casual in her bearing than Rico, she gave the impression of having dealt with Marines often enough to regard them with weary exasperation.

  Like many of Geary’s officers, they seemed far too young for their ranks. A century ago, he had been accustomed to a peacetime military, with promotions coming fairly slowly and requiring years of time in each rank. But the long and recently ended war had enforced its own requirements, the deaths of more senior officers often requiring rapid promotions of junior officers to fill in the gaps.

  Geary waved Rico and Young to take seats. “We’re facing a difficult problem.”

  “What do you need the Marines to do, Admiral?” Rico asked, sitting with the same straight posture he used when standing.

  “Where do you need us to take the Marines so they can do something?” Commander Young asked, drawing a sidelong, amused look from Rico.

  Geary sat down opposite the two officers. “You’ve both just done the first thing I need by showing me you’ve got the right attitudes for the job. What have you heard about the dark ships?”

  “Everything that’s been put out by you, sir, but nothing based on experience. We weren’t along during the fights at Atalia and Bhavan, and we only saw one side of the battle here at Varandal.” Rico nodded outward. “And we’ve heard the rumors that are going around.”

  “Which aren’t good,” Young added. “I’ve talked to some friends on other ships who have engaged the dark ships, Admiral. Everybody says they’re tough.”

  “They are,” Geary said. “We’ve found the dark ships’ base, though, and we know how to get to it.”

  Young fixed her eyes on Geary. “And that’s why you need an assault transport.” She made the words a statement, not a question.

  “There will likely be a big orbiting facility at the star the dark ships are operating from. It will be designed for command and control, housing large numbers of people, and supporting a wide variety of functions.”

  “Facility assault,” Rico said, nodding. “Third Brigade can do that. There’s just the one facility?”

  “There are likely to be a lot of other orbiting structures, but they will be support facilities for the dark ships. Docks and warehouses, primarily. It’s possible that anyone still on those facilities are trapped there. It might be a hostage rescue or evacuation under fire situation. It will also be an intelligence collection mission, acquiring any and all information available in the storage systems at the facilities. General Carabali told me Third Brigade is the best, no matter what we encounter.”

  Rico nodded again. “What intel are we looking for, sir?”

  “Everything and anything. This isn’t for me. The government constructed those facilities, lost control of them, and wants to know what has been going on there.”

  “Yes, sir.” The Marine did not seem the least bit surprised that the government would not know what was going on at a government facility.

  “How many evacuees, Admiral?” Young asked. “If Mistral is loaded with assault troops, she won’t have much room for new riders.”

  “I don’t know,” Geary said. “I’d like to have an empty assault transport along with us as well. But at the moment, Mistral is all I have.”

  Commander Young sat silently for a few moments, her eyes gazing intently into space. “It depends on the numbers, sir. There are ways to pack in a lot more bodies and give life support a temporary boost to handle the load. No one will be happy, but we can double up as long as it doesn’t last too long. However, the only way to be sure we can carry a lot of people out is to leave some space aboard.”

  “Which would mean limiting how many Marines were aboard,” Colonel Rico objected.

  “I’ve only got so much room on the bus,” Young said. “Even if we go standing room only, I can’t just keep packing people in without overloading life support and the air inside the ship going toxic. I assume you grunts want to keep breathing?”

  “We’re sort of fond of breathing,” Rico agreed.

  “I understand that we want all of the Marines we can bring,” Geary said. “But we’ll only bring two of your battalions, Colonel. The rest of the space on Mistral will be left free for emergency evacuees. There’s a chance the number of evacuees could still exceed Mistral’s maximum capacity, in which case we’ll transfer people onward to some of the larger warships.”

  “Under fire?” Young asked.

  “Possibly under fire,” Geary confirmed. “I know that’s far from ideal circumstances.”

  “I have shuttle pilots who will volunteer to carry out the transfers under fire,” Rico said.

  Commander Young snorted. “Funny how Marines never have trouble finding volunteers.”

  “Marine sergeants are very persuasive,” Rico said. “Admiral, I would really like to have a better idea of what we’ll be facing in the way of a threat. I know what the dark ships can throw at us, but what kind of infantry threat will there be?”

  “I don’t think we’ll face soldiers,” Geary said. “What little we know indicates no military presence. Maybe paramilitary or heavily armed security forces.”

  “Heavily armed security forces? Do you mean like police action teams, or something like Syndic Vipers?” Rico asked, citing the fanatical special forces that worked for the Syndicate Worlds’ Internal Security Service.

  “I don’t know,” Geary said. “Does the A
lliance have anything like Vipers?”

  “There are rumors, sir, but I don’t know of anyone who has ever seen anything like that.”

  “Good. I don’t think something like that could have been kept completely secret. If no one has ever seen it, it probably doesn’t exist.” Geary realized that was a pretty weak argument during a discussion about attacking Unity Alternate but decided not to address that point. “Here’s the other hard part. Whoever we encounter may believe that they are defending the interests of the Alliance.”

  Young and Rico both stared at Geary. Rico recovered first. “We might have to fight Alliance forces?”

  “That’s very unlikely,” Geary said. “As we saw at Ambaru, even when given misleading data, Alliance ground forces soldiers did not want to engage Alliance Marines, and the information I have is that no regular military forces should be at the dark ship base. But a paramilitary force might be there and might have orders to resist us. If we encounter that situation, Colonel Rico, I need to know that you can defuse it if possible but take out anyone who actively tries to prevent you from carrying out your mission.”

  He looked over at Commander Young. “And if any of the dark ships are present when we hit their base and realize what you intend, they will try to take you out. It’s going to be hazardous as hell. If the dark ships decide to make a priority target of you, it is possible that I will have a very hard time keeping them off you. You have the right to know that.”

  Young grinned. “We’re used to that, Admiral. Haven’t you heard the joke that AT doesn’t stand for Assault Transport, but rather Active Target?”

  “Sir,” Colonel Rico said, “we’ll get the job done. This is about defending the Alliance, right?”

  “I promise you that it is,” Geary said. “I have orders from the highest levels for this operation.”

  “Then we’ll get the job done as long as the bus gets us there.”

  Commander Young gave him an arch look. “The bus will get your freeloaders there. After that, it will be up to you Marines to pay for the ride.”

  “We’ll earn our fare,” Rico said. “We got this, Admiral.”

  “Excellent,” Geary said. “We have some emergency repairs that have to be completed on some of the warships, so the departure date for the assault will be about a week from now. Have your ship and your Marines ready.”

  “We could go within twenty-four hours, sir,” Commander Young said. “As long as the Marines are ready to load. We’re already preloaded with most of their equipment.”

  “Twenty-four hours,” Rico agreed.

  After they had left, Geary checked the latest updates on maintenance and supply. Formidable was the last battle cruiser still in dock and would be getting pushed out on an emergency basis the next day. Fearless would have all of her main propulsion systems in working order within thirty-six hours, under threat of being left behind when the fleet moved. The shameful possibility of being the only battleship to miss the upcoming fight had driven the crew of Fearless and the maintenance personnel working with them to superhuman efforts to ensure the job was done.

  Admiral Timbale was emptying the supply centers at Varandal of every fuel cell available. It wouldn’t be enough on such short notice to top off all of the warships, but only the battleships and battle cruisers would be at less than one hundred percent starting out. There were also frustrating shortages of specter missiles, and even a baffling shortfall in grapeshot. “They’re just ball bearings!” Geary had protested. “Round pieces of metal! How hard can it be to make more of them?” But other priorities had interfered, so some of the warships would be heading out with less than full shot lockers.

  The good news in terms of food supplies was that there had been plenty of ration bars available to be loaded onto the ships to provide meals during battle situations. The bad news was that nearly every crate was made up of the infamous Danaka Yoruk bars, which had apparently been stockpiled to feed to Syndic prisoners of war who had then unexpectedly been released into the custody of representatives of the Midway Star System. Geary took under serious consideration Desjani’s suggestion that they use the Danaka Yoruk bars as substitutes for the inadequate supply of metal grapeshot.

  Exhausted by going over the status reports, expediting what needed to be expedited, delaying what could be delayed, making sure the right people were in the right positions, planning for what would be done at Unity Alternate, and coordinating actions, Geary finally managed to sleep.

  —

  “ADMIRAL!”

  Geary bolted awake, shocked by the urgency in the summons. He sat up in his bunk, slapping the nearest comm panel. “Here. What’s happened?”

  “They— They’re back, sir!”

  ELEVEN

  “WHO is back?” Geary roared with what he thought was an immense amount of patience. Only the fact that the caller sounded surprised rather than scared, which is what he would have expected if those who were back were the dark ships, kept him from bolting for the bridge without waiting for further explanation.

  “The Dancers, sir. A lot of them.”

  “The Dancers?” That was the last thing he had expected to hear. Geary called up the display in his stateroom and stared at the image before him.

  Forty Dancer ships had arrived in Varandal. Arrived at the jump point from Bhavan. The perfect ovoids of the Dancer ships gleamed against the black backdrop of space. They were arranged in an intricate formation that made them resemble a complex necklace of immense pearls speeding through the emptiness with perfectly coordinated movements.

  Geary reached the bridge of Dauntless within a few minutes. “How the hell did the Dancers get to Bhavan?” he demanded.

  Tanya Desjani had beaten him to the bridge. “You’re not going to like the answer.”

  General Charban was already there as well. He turned a bland look on Geary, as if determined to no longer be fazed by anything the Dancers did. “According to your experts, Admiral, they didn’t come from Bhavan.”

  “They arrived at the jump point from Bhavan,” Geary insisted.

  Charban indicated Lieutenant Castries, who looked uncomfortable. “Admiral,” she said, “we got a weird signature when the Dancers left jump.”

  “A weird signature?” Geary pressed both hands against his forehead. “What does that mean?”

  “Sir, when ships leave jump, they always emit a small burst of energy. It’s insignificant, and no one really knows what causes it, so no one worries about it.”

  “Jaylen Cresida speculated that it might be caused by some sort of friction while traveling through jump space,” Desjani said, seated and with her chin resting in one palm. “As the lieutenant says, it’s so small an effect that it just gets noted and ignored.”

  Geary nodded impatiently. “All right. I remember that. There was a research project before . . . before Grendel. A ship I was on assisted the research. I never heard any results from it, though.”

  Lieutenant Castries indicated her display. “Our systems alerted us that when the Dancers left jump, the energy signature they gave off was much stronger than it should be and also had some unusual density readings.”

  “Put it on my display,” Geary ordered, sitting down and glaring at the data as it sprang to life before him. “What the hell is that?”

  “We . . . don’t know, sir.”

  “The Dancer ships haven’t shown that kind of energy signature before when leaving jump?”

  “No, sir.”

  Charban cleared his throat. “Admiral, the Dancers insisted on going to Old Earth, so they could return the body of a human explorer who had been involved in early research into jump drives centuries ago. Apparently, he was in jump space for a very long time and did not come out until somewhere in the Dancer-occupied region of the galaxy.”

  “I’m not likely to forget that,” Geary said. Being trapped in jump space was perha
ps the worst nightmare scenario for space travelers. The thought of that ancient astronaut stuck in jump space until he died had rattled everyone who heard of it. “Hold on. Are you saying the Dancers might have jumped to Varandal not from Bhavan but all the way from their own territory? They would have been in jump space for months. No one could handle that.”

  “No human could handle that,” Desjani corrected him.

  Geary looked at her. “I had wondered what jump space felt like for the Dancers. Is there any other explanation for their getting here?”

  “They could have jumped star by star all the way from the region of space they occupy,” she said. “But that many jumps and transiting that many star systems would have taken so long that they would have had to have started about a year ago.”

  “Could they have figured out how to use the Syndic hypernet? Could they have gotten a Syndic key?”

  “Yes, sir, but then why did they jump here from Bhavan rather than from Atalia or some other star on the Syndic side of things?”

  Geary looked back at Castries. “Exactly how long would a single jump all the way from Dancer space take?”

  Lieutenant Castries made a helpless gesture. “Sir, we don’t know. All we can do is extrapolate from the jumps we make from star to adjacent star, but we don’t know if there is a straight correlation between distances in our universe and distances in jump space, or what happens when you jump to a star much farther off than the ones nearest to the jump point you used.”

  “Can we even detect whether jump points can reach those more distant stars?” Desjani asked.

  “I’ll see what I can find out, Captain,” Castries said. “But there’s nothing in our navigation systems that would indicate we can do that.”

  “But we haven’t been looking for it, have we?” Desjani said.

  “No, Captain. I don’t know if we know how to look for something like that.”

  “Forty ships,” Geary said, focusing back on practical issues. “General Charban, we need to know why they are here, how they got here, why they are here, what they want, and why they are here.”