Dauntless

by Jack Campbell

  Tulev nodded as if unsurprised. “The charges? We are obligated to provide them to those under arrest.”

  “Treason and dereliction of duty in the face of the enemy. They told me they were preparing a report on their actions. Make sure they have the means to produce that report. I want to see it.” That wasn’t strictly true. The last thing he wanted to do was read through that document if what Commander Fensin had said was accurate. But he had an obligation to see what the three officers said in their own defense.

  Once Tulev had signed off, Geary faced Fensin again. “Thank you, Commander. I think I can promise you that if what you told us is confirmed by your fellow former prisoners, then formal courts-martial back in Alliance territory will reach the same conclusions you did.”

  “Do we have to wait?” Fensin asked with shocking calmness. “You could order them shot right now.”

  “That’s not how I do business, Commander. If your statements are true, those three will condemn themselves with their own report, then no one will doubt the necessity of carrying out justice.”

  “But Captain Gazin is so old,” Fensin argued. “She may not live until we reach Alliance space, and she’d escape the fate she deserves.”

  Desjani answered him in her command voice. “If she dies, then the living stars will render judgment and justice, Commander. No one can escape that. You’re an officer in the Alliance fleet, Commander Fensin. You held to that as a prisoner. Don’t forget it now that you’re back with us.”

  Rione’s expression hardened, but Fensin just stared at Desjani again for a moment, then nodded. “Yes, Captain. Forgive me.”

  “There’s nothing to forgive,” Desjani assured him. “You’ve been through hell, and you did your duty by telling us the truth. Continue to do your duty, Commander. You were always part of the fleet, but now you are with it once more.”

  “Yes, Captain,” Fensin repeated, sitting straighter.

  Rione looked to Geary. “If there’s nothing else, I’d like to spend some time with Commander Fensin, then get his medical screening accomplished.”

  “Of course.” Geary and Desjani stood together and left. He looked back as the hatch closed and saw Rione still holding Fensin’s hand, no words passing between them. “Damn,” he muttered to Desjani.

  “Damn,” she agreed. “Are you sure we shouldn’t shoot them now?”

  So Desjani had been tempted, too, but hadn’t argued with him in front of the others to avoid appearing to undermine his own position. “Sure? No. But it has to be done right. There can’t be any perception of mob justice. Good job getting Fensin to talk. How did you know to prod Fensin with a question about treason?”

  She made a face. “Some of the conversations I had with Lieutenant Riva. He talked a few times about things like that. I didn’t really understand before, but I remembered how he’d get very angry when talking about anyone who he thought had been too compliant with the Syndics. Something about this made me recall that.” Desjani looked down the passageway, and added something in a bland voice. “It’s not like I think of Riva. Not at all, usually.”

  “I see.” To Geary’s surprise, he realized he had felt a twinge of jealousy. He had to change the subject. “I wonder if I might not have ended up going down that same misguided road that those three did if I’d been captured.”

  Desjani frowned at him. “No. You wouldn’t have. You care about the personnel under your command, but you also know the risks they have to run. You’ve always been able to balance those things.”

  “I care about them enough to send them to their deaths,” Geary replied, hearing some bitterness creep into his tone.

  “That’s exactly right. Too much callousness, and their lives are wasted. Too much concern, and they die anyway, with no result. I don’t pretend to understand why things are that way, but you know they are.”

  “Yeah.” He felt the momentary depression lifting and smiled at her. “Thanks for being here, Tanya.”

  “It’s not like I could be anywhere else.” Desjani smiled back, then her face went formal, and she saluted. “I need to see to my ship, sir.”

  “By all means.” He returned the salute, then watched her walk away.

  She had a ship to see to and he had to call Titan and let Commander Lommand know that a particularly unwelcome cargo would be arriving on his ship soon. The burdens of command varied, but burdens they always were.

  BY the next morning he felt better. The third planet of Heradao was comfortably distant, the fleet had finished joining up with the units left behind in the area of the space battle, and the entire Alliance force was headed for the jump point for Padronis. Even the old Syndic ration bar he chose for breakfast didn’t seem to taste as bad as usual.

  At about that point, the comm unit in his stateroom buzzed. “Sir, you have an urgent request for communications from Commander Vigory.”

  “Commander Vigory?” Geary tried to match the name to a ship or a face, failed, and checked the fleet database. Another former POW from Heradao. No wonder his name hadn’t been familiar. Vigory was on Spartan, and according to the summary in the database, he’d had a fairly routine career before being captured by the Syndics. “All right. Put him through.”

  Thin and intense, Commander Vigory resembled other Alliance personnel liberated from Heradao. “Captain Geary,” he began in a stiff voice, “I wished to pay a call and render proper respects to the fleet commander.”

  “Thank you, Commander.”

  “I also wished to inform you that I am still awaiting a command assignment.”

  Still awaiting? Geary’s eyes went to the time. It had been less than a day since the fleet left orbit about Heradao’s third planet. Then his mind fastened on the rest of Vigory’s statement. “Command assignment?”

  “Yes, sir.” Vigory’s eyes were demanding as he gazed at Geary. “A review of fleet records indicates numerous ships in this fleet suitable for an officer of my rank and seniority are currently commanded by officers junior to me.”

  “You expect me to relieve some existing commanding officer so that you can have his or her ship?”

  The question seemed to startle Commander Vigory. “Of course, sir.”

  Geary fought down an impulse to cut off Vigory at the knees and tried to speak in a reasonable but firm tone. “How would you feel if you lost your command under those circumstances, Commander?”

  “That scarcely matters, sir. This is a question of honor and proper deference to my rank and position. I have no doubt that any ship in this fleet would benefit from my experience and ability to command.”

  No, Vigory probably had never had a doubt in his life, Geary thought as he looked at the man. According to the records available, Vigory had been taken prisoner about five years ago, meaning that he was a product of a fleet in which individual honor meant everything and ships fought without regard for sound tactics. Maybe he was a decent officer despite that, but at this point, retraining a ship’s commanding officer would be just one more thing to worry about, besides being grossly unfair to some other officer. “Commander, I’ll lay this out as clearly as I can. Every commanding officer in this fleet has fought for me all the way from the Syndic home star system, rendering brave and honorable service in numerous engagements with the enemy.” That was an exaggeration in a few cases, but Vigory didn’t seem the sort to grasp distinctions. “I will not relieve any of my current commanding officers without cause based on their performance. This fleet is returning to Alliance space, and once there you can request a command assignment on a new-construction warship or a warship whose commanding officer is rotating to a new assignment.”

  Vigory seemed to have trouble understanding. “Sir, I expect very quickly to receive a command assignment in this fleet suitable to my rank and seniority.”

  “Then I regret to inform you that your expectations are misplaced.” Geary tried not to get angry but could hear his voice getting sharper. “You will serve as needed by the Alliance, just like every officer in
this fleet.”

  “But . . . I . . .”

  “Thank you, Commander Vigory. I appreciate your willingness to serve as your duty to the Alliance requires.”

  The conversation over, Geary leaned back and covered his eyes with one hand. A moment later the alert on the hatch to his stateroom chimed. Great. This morning is going downhill fast. He authorized entry, sitting up straighter as Victoria Rione entered. “Captain Geary.”

  “Madam Co-President.” They’d had plenty of physical intimacies in this very room, but that was over and done, and neither would presume on their earlier relationship.

  “I hope I’m not interrupting anything,” Rione continued.

  “I was just trying to remember why I wanted to rescue the Alliance POWs on Heradao,” Geary confessed.

  She flicked a smile at him. “Because you have an annoying habit of insisting on doing what’s right even when common sense might dictate acting otherwise.”

  “Thank you. I think. What brings you here?”

  “The Alliance POWs liberated from Heradao.”

  Geary didn’t quite stifle a groan. “Now what?”

  “This may be good news, or perhaps useful.” Rione inclined her head toward another part of the ship. “Sometime after you left us yesterday, Commander Fensin confessed to me that the best thing he could have been told was what your captain said to him, reminding him of his responsibilities as an officer of the Alliance and ordering him to live up to those responsibilities.” She paused before continuing. “From what Kai Fensin said, he and the other POWs on Heradao long lacked a firm hand they respected to give them purpose. He thought all of them would benefit from treatment such as your captain gave him.”

  Geary refrained from pointing out that his “captain” had a name, and that Desjani wasn’t “his” in any case. “That makes a great deal of sense. They’re not used to having senior officers they respect or to whose orders they’d listen.”

  “Kai suggested you might want to inform others in the fleet of this, so they’d be able to treat the other former prisoners accordingly. In that respect, they’re not like the ones we liberated from Sutrah.”

  “Thank you,” Geary repeated. “I think he’s right.”

  “Yes, and so was your captain. My instincts to protect Commander Fensin were wrong.”

  “Don’t beat yourself up about that. Desjani and Fensin are both fleet.” Rione just nodded silently. “How are you doing?”

  She gave him a searching glance. “Why do you ask?”

  “You seem to have been very happy to find Commander Fensin.”

  Rione’s eyes flashed. “If you’re implying—”

  “No!” Geary raised both palms in apology. “That’s not what I meant. It just seems that meeting him was a good thing for you.”

  She subsided as quickly as her anger had flared. “Yes. He reminds me of many things. Of the life I once had.”

  “I could tell.” It was best not to tell Rione that Desjani had been able to see it as well.

  “Could you?” Rione bent her head for a moment. “I sometimes wonder what will happen if my husband lives and we are united again. In the years since he left, I have changed in many ways, become harder and stronger and . . . not the woman he left.”

  “I saw that woman. When you were with Kai Fensin.”

  “You did?” Rione sighed. “Maybe there’s hope for me, then. Maybe she’s not dead after all.”

  “She’s not, Victoria.”

  Rione raised her gaze and looked at him with a twisted smile. “That’s one of the few circumstances under which you can still call me that, John Geary. Thank you. I’ve said what I needed to say.” She walked to the hatch but paused in it before leaving, her back to him. “Please thank your captain on my behalf for her words to Commander Fensin. I’m grateful.” Then she was gone and the hatch was sliding shut.

  He drafted up a message telling the fleet’s ship captains to be firm with the former POWs from Heradao and to get them assigned duties as soon as possible. After sending it, Geary settled back and stared at the star display again.

  Roughly two more days until the fleet reached the jump point for Padronis. That star should be quiet, with no known Syndic presence. For that matter, Atalia, the next and last Syndic star system they had to transit, should be quiet, too, despite its human population. If Alliance intelligence was anywhere near right then the Syndics had used up everything they had. No significant number of warships could be available to contest the rest of the fleet’s journey home.

  Could he finally relax?

  Five minutes later, Lieutenant Iger called from the intelligence section with a very urgent summons.

  SEVEN

  CALLS from Lieutenant Iger in the intelligence section were usually interesting and sometimes very surprising. Never pleasantly surprising in Geary’s experience, but the unpleasant news had often proven to be critically important.

  Since Iger looked unhappy when Geary arrived, he assumed this would be one of those unpleasant news times. “Tell me the civil war in this star system isn’t going to cause us any more problems, Lieutenant.”

  “Uh, yes, sir. The civil war here shouldn’t cause us any more trouble, sir. This is an entirely different problem.”

  “Oh. Wonderful. Big problem?”

  “Yes, sir. Real big.”

  Geary rubbed the back of his neck, feeling a headache coming on. “All right. Lay it out.”

  “We’ve been analyzing Syndic communications in this star system, Captain Geary,” Iger reported. “That is, the messages that were already on the fly when we arrived here. It’s standard procedure, trying to identify traffic patterns and important messages so we can try to break them out and decipher as much of them as we can. The first thing we noticed is that there’s been a much-higher-than-usual concentration of highest-priority messages sent in this star system. Again, that’s before central authority collapsed.”

  Geary nodded. Light-speed limitations were usually a problem, but not if you were trying to intercept messages sent days or hours ago, before anyone knew the enemy would be arriving in a particular star system. Those messages were still heading outward at the speed of light if you could find them. “Any idea what they’re about? The Syndics thought we were coming here, so that might account for them.”

  “No, sir, not all of them. We’ve been able to do some partial breaking of the high-priority messages we’ve intercepted.” Iger turned and tapped controls, bringing up a series of lines of information. “These are pulled from voice transmissions and various forms of text messaging. Those kind of informal communications are usually the most useful because people say things without thinking. There are several references in these to something we’ve never seen before. Right here, and here, and in this one.”

  Geary read the indicated lines, frowning. “Reserve flotilla? You haven’t heard the Syndics use that phrase before?”

  “No, sir. A search of intelligence databases turned up only three references to the term in reporting about the Syndics over the last few decades. No actual data exists, just identification of the use of the term ‘reserve flotilla’ by the Syndics without any means of determining what it meant.” Iger pointed to another line. “This was a requisition for supplies. We’ve been able to break a fair amount of this message because we know how the Syndics format those requisitions and so knew what certain sections had to mean. These parts are segments of the overall requirement, then here’s some of the portion of that requirement that Heradao was supposed to provide. One of the things about the Syndics is they use very rigid logistics. If you want to provide food for a D-Class battle cruiser for sixty days, you order X of this and Y of that and so on.”

  “That looks like an awful lot of Xs and Ys,” Geary commented as he read the intercepted requisition.

  “Yes, sir.” Iger blew out a long breath. “Assuming it’s a standard sixty-day supply, which the Syndics tend to adhere to, and a standard mix of units, this requisition would cover a
force estimated to include fifteen to twenty battleships, fifteen to twenty battle cruisers, and somewhere between one hundred and two hundred heavy cruisers, light cruisers, and Hunter-Killers.”

  Geary felt a lot of reactions, some of them very negative. How could a Syndic force of that size still exist? His fleet had fought heroically and taken serious losses, but the path home had finally seemed clear. Right up until that moment. He tried to focus on the most constructive questions. “This definitely isn’t related to the force we just destroyed?”

  “No, sir. Definitely not. It was being sent out of the star system.”

  “You’re estimating that a Syndic force of that size exists right now and is in a star system not too far from here?”

  “Yes, sir.” Give Iger full credit, he didn’t try to weasel around when it came to bad news.

  “How? How did the Syndics have a force of that size that our intelligence resources weren’t aware of before this?”

  Iger pointed again. “We can only guess, sir, but I think it’s a good guess. Some of the message traffic we believe is related to this reserve flotilla mentions two Syndic star systems. Surt and Embla.”

  “Surt? Embla?” The names were vaguely familiar, though Geary couldn’t remember why. “I can’t recall where those are.”

  “That’s because they’re a long ways from Alliance space,” Iger advised, moving to the star display nearby. “Here. On the Syndic border farthest from the Alliance.”

  It suddenly all made sense. “A reserve flotilla. Held on the Syndic border facing the aliens as insurance in case the aliens attacked the Syndics.”

  “Yes, sir,” Iger agreed. “That seems like the most reasonable interpretation. A force kept so far from us that the Alliance couldn’t pick up indications of it and never knew of its existence. But now the Syndics are so worried about our getting home with a Syndic hypernet key that they pulled that reserve flotilla out of position to try to stop us.”

  “Damn. We didn’t need that.”