The Lost Fleet: Relentless

by Campbell, Jack

  Carabali frowned slightly. “If that proposal were made by another officer, it wouldn’t sit well. But you have built up a tremendous reserve of trust, sir.”

  “Even though we’ve lost a lot of ships?”

  “Your concept of a lot still differs from that of people who have grown up in this war, sir.” Carabali reached one finger up to touch her rank insignia. “These were my grandmother’s, and then my father’s. Both of them died in combat before they were able personally to hand down these insignia to one of their children. I had hoped to break that family curse, but, Captain Geary,” the colonel stated with her eyes locked on his, “if my death in combat were to ensure my children didn’t have to wear these because the war had ended in a way the people of the Alliance could live with, then I would willingly make that sacrifice. That’s the crux of the matter here, sir. We’ve been willing to die for a long time, but that willingness has been colored by despair that our sacrifices will accomplish little. We trust you to make our deaths count, if it comes to that.”

  Geary nodded, feeling a heaviness filling him. “I promise to do my best.”

  “You always have, sir. And if you hold to your promise not to violate your oath to the Alliance, the Marines in this fleet will do their best by you as well.”

  This time Geary frowned, thinking through the words. “That’s an uncharacteristically ambiguous statement, Colonel.”

  “Then I’ll state clearly that if you give orders to act against the Alliance government, I and my officers will do all we can to ensure the Marines do not obey such orders.”

  “That won’t be a problem because I won’t give such orders.”

  “Then we understand each other.” Carabali looked away for a moment, her eyes hooded in thought. “But if we receive orders to arrest you . . . that’s when it gets hard. It should be simple. Obey lawful orders. But it won’t be if you haven’t violated your own oath. A long time ago a wise man said that everything in war is simple, but all of the simple things are complicated. Like this. Is it lawful to arrest an officer, one with an unblemished record, because of what he might do? Military and civilian lawyers could argue that point for a long time. As you said, the Alliance is about the principles we hold dear, and one of those has always been the rights of our people.”

  “That’s true, Colonel.” Geary stood up. “I swear that I will do everything I can to avoid such a conflict between orders and principles. We’re on the same side and, frankly, I like it that way.”

  “Me, too, sir.” Carabali rose as well. “You’re not bad for a space squid.”

  “Thank you, Colonel. You’re not half-bad yourself.” Carabali flicked another smile, then came to attention and saluted. As she moved to break the connection, Geary spoke again. “Colonel. There’s no other decision that lieutenant could have made.”

  Carabali nodded back to him. “The lieutenant has always known that, sir, but she’s also always hated the decision she had to make. By your leave, sir.” The Marine colonel saluted again, then her image vanished.

  Geary sat down again slowly. He felt like he was juggling a hundred balls at once, and if he dropped one then the Alliance would shatter.

  He went up to the bridge an hour before the jump for Atalia. The Alliance fleet was arranged into a battle formation consisting of a main body and a supporting formation to either side, ready in case the Syndic reserve flotilla was waiting to fight right outside the jump exit. Geary reviewed the fleet, reviewed its logistics status, wincing at the low levels of fuel cells and expendable weaponry, then called his ship captains. “Be ready for anything when we leave jump. If the Syndics are right there within range, all ships are to engage targets of opportunity with every available weapon. More likely they’ll be at least a short distance from the jump point, and we’ll be able to maneuver into a favorable position before attacking. We’ll see you at Atalia, and after that Varandal.”

  “Fifteen minutes to jump,” the operations watch reported.

  Rione came out of the observer’s seat and leaned on the back of Geary’s seat. “Should I bother asking why a fleet in this condition is planning on attacking at Atalia rather than running for the jump exit for Varandal?”

  “Because the Syndics will surely be prepared for our trying to run past them,” Geary replied. “Make no mistake, if the opportunity permits I’m going to head for that jump point. But I don’t expect the Syndics to give us a free shot at it.”

  “They won’t stop us,” Desjani stated calmly.

  Rione eyed her for a moment before answering. “I believe you.” Then she returned to her seat while Desjani frowned, clearly trying to find some hidden meaning in the response and failing.

  Geary watched the seconds count down as the fleet approached the jump point, then he sent the order. “All ships, jump for Atalia.”

  In three and three-quarter days, they’d find out what waited for them at the last Syndic star system they had to cross on the way home.

  JUMP space had plenty of negatives. There was the itching sensation, which grew worse the longer you were in jump space, a feeling most people described as feeling like your own skin didn’t fit right anymore. There was the growing sense of unseen presences lurking just out of sight. Always, no matter how short the journey, there was the endless gray nothing, a universe lit by no stars.

  There were the strange lights of jump space, which flared according to no known pattern and for no known reason. With no way having been discovered to explore jump space, the lights remained a mystery. Looking at them now, Geary couldn’t forget that legend held that his spirit had been one of those lights during all the long years his body rested frozen in survival sleep.

  However, jump space did have the singular virtue of being bland and unsurprising. Isolated within the strange confines of jump space, ships could barely communicate by the simplest of messages, and nothing could be seen of the normal universe. Compared to the sometimes unceasing events of normal space, Geary found himself at times treasuring the relative peace that isolation offered.

  But no one could stay in jump space forever. Sooner or later, the real universe would have to be faced.

  “We’ll be arriving in Atalia in two hours.” Desjani stood before him in his stateroom, the star display between them. “It’ll be a tough fight.”

  “I just hope that reserve flotilla is smaller than Lieutenant Iger estimated and that they’re not lined up in front of the jump exit to hit us all at once with everything they’ve got.” Geary stood up and activated the display, calling up an image of how his ships would look if anyone could actually see them all in jump space. Ranks of capital ships, flocks of cruisers and destroyers, the bulks of the surviving auxiliaries nestled near the center.

  His fleet. He shouldn’t think that, but he did. He’d brought it this far, and the living stars willing, he’d take it all the way home. But what would happen then?

  “What are you thinking?” Desjani asked.

  “I’m wishing I didn’t have to do what I know I have to do.”

  “Turn over command of the fleet at Varandal? I don’t think that’s going to happen, sir.”

  “I’m just a captain. A very, very, very senior captain, but just a captain.”

  “You’re Captain Geary. The Captain Geary. That’s different.”

  He exhaled slowly. “But if I do retain command of the fleet . . .”

  Desjani raised a questioning eyebrow. “You’ve figured out what to do next?”

  “I’ve been thinking. There’s only one thing we can do next if we make it home. If we give the Syndics enough time, they’ll recover from the blows we’ve dealt them. We destroyed the Syndic shipyards at Sancere, but those were far from the only shipyards the Syndics have turning out warships. Every day brings them closer to replacing their losses. That means we’ll have to hit them again as soon as possible, when they’re off-balance, hit them as hard as we can.” He grimaced. “Their leaders, I mean. The foundation of their power, the fleet that allowed the
m to attack us and coerce their own people, will hopefully be gone for a while after Atalia. We can’t defeat the Syndics star system by star system because there’s just too damn many star systems, but there’ll never be a better time to lop off the heads of the Syndicate Worlds.”

  Desjani smiled grimly. “We have to go back?” She reached over and tapped the controls, the images of the fleet’s ships being replaced with a representation of the stars in a very large area of space. One of those stars, distant from Varandal, glowed brighter than the others, highlighted by the display. “Back to the Syndic home star system. But this time it’ll be different.”

  “Yeah. Once the fleet is resupplied, and we’ve replaced what losses we can.” He shrugged. “That’s what I’ll recommend. Even though it’s the last thing I want to do.”

  She gave him a look that for an instant told him that Tanya knew full well what he wanted but that neither of them could follow that road yet. Then it was gone, and Captain Desjani was nodding to him. “Then we can deal with the aliens.”

  “Then we can try to figure out how to deal with them. If they haven’t directly attacked us already. If we make it home. If I remain in command of the fleet. There’s a lot of uncertainties. It’s kind of crazy, isn’t it? We’ve narrowly escaped destruction time after time getting out of the trap the Syndics laid for this fleet, but I’m going to suggest we go back there.”

  Desjani smiled again. “If your craziness is caused by something infectious, I hope you bite every admiral we encounter.”

  He couldn’t help a laugh. “We’re getting a bit ahead of things. We’re still one jump and a Syndic reserve flotilla away from Alliance space.”

  “Then, Captain Geary, let’s get ready to kick some Syndic butt so we can make that jump.”

  “Sounds like a good idea, Captain Desjani. Let’s get up to the bridge.”

  Two hours later he waited as the seconds ticked down toward the moment when the Alliance fleet would leave jump space. Waited to find out if his worst fears would come true, if volleys of missiles and grapeshot would slam into the Alliance fleet almost as soon as it appeared at Atalia. If that happened, a smaller-scale version of the ambush in the Syndic home system that had led to his gaining command of what was left of the Alliance fleet, he’d be lucky to get through the first moments with half of his ships still in one piece.

  “Stand by for exit from jump space,” the operations watch-stander called.

  “Weapons ready,” Desjani ordered. “Set them to fire on auto the instant they identify targets within their engagement envelopes.”

  The same orders were being given on every ship in the fleet. Geary sat, tense, wondering if the next few seconds would hurl the Alliance fleet into its most desperate fight since they had left the Syndic home star system.

  “Exiting jump space in five, four, three, two, one. Exiting now.” The stars reappeared.

  Dauntless yawed down and over as the fleet’s warships began a preplanned evasive maneuver. It took a moment for Geary to get his mind around what he was seeing as the fleet’s sensors rapidly updated the display before him.

  The first thing that registered clearly was that no weapons were firing. Then he saw that there were no Syndic warships near the jump exit. He breathed a prayer of thanks, then pulled out the scale on his display to see where the enemy was within the star system.

  Being a border system, Atalia had been the scene of many clashes between the Syndicate Worlds and the Alliance. Most of the wreckage from those clashes had been allowed to extend slowly through the empty spaces of the star system. The remains of Syndic and Alliance warships had been accumulating in this star system for almost a hundred years.

  But scattered along a ragged arc stretching between the seventh planet of the Atalia Star System and the jump point for Varandal lay spreading fields of debris that were still fairly compact, some flocks of escape pods, and a small number of damaged Syndic warships. “The aftermath of a battle?” Geary asked.

  “One that’s still going on,” Desjani corrected.

  TEN

  PULLING his display out farther, he saw them. Almost four light-hours away, Alliance and Syndic warships were clashing. The jump point for Varandal was about as far from Atalia’s star as the jump exit at which the Alliance fleet had arrived, but partway around the curve of the outer boundaries of the star system. Geary stared at his display as the fleet’s sensors added details. He almost winced as a cluster of Alliance ships vanished, then realized that they had not been destroyed but had jumped out of the system.

  More Alliance warships vanished, leaving him wondering how many had been here. One remained, however, a single battleship staggering toward the jump point as overwhelming numbers of Syndic warships made firing passes.

  “The system identifies that battleship as the Intractable ,” Desjani reported. “She was one of the battleships left behind to guard Alliance space when this fleet went to the Syndic home star system.” She hesitated before continuing. “When we left, Intractable was part of the same battleship division as Dreadnaught.”

  Dreadnaught, the ship commanded by Jane Geary, his grandniece. Had Dreadnaught already jumped for Varandal, or were pieces of that Alliance battleship drifting through this star system?

  In time, the fleet’s sensors could analyze the most recent debris and make guesses as to how many warships had died here in the latest engagements. For the moment, Geary could only watch images almost four hours old, knowing that there was nothing he could do to save Intractable as she covered the withdrawal of the rest of the Alliance force with her.

  “It won’t be much longer,” Desjani muttered, watching the same images as Geary. “Intractable was the only Alliance warship left near the jump point. Everybody else had already gotten away.”

  “Is there any chance that she made it to the jump point?”

  “Not unless the Syndics decided to stop shooting.”

  Rione was leaning forward, her voice urgent. “We have to do something. Distract the Syndics. Something!”

  “Madam Co-President,” Geary replied heavily, “the Syndics won’t even see this fleet for almost four hours. Intractable was almost certainly destroyed nearly that long ago. We’re just seeing it now.”

  “Damn,” Rione whispered.

  On the four-hours-old images, Intractable seemed to have lost maneuvering control, sliding sideways and over as Syndic hits pushed the Alliance battleship off course. “Her crew’s leaving,” Desjani said, as escape pods began flinging themselves away from the stricken battleship. “There still seem to be a few weapons working, though.”

  Four hours ago, a volley of Syndic missiles had been fired, curving in to slam into Intractable and shatter the massive warship, by then almost defenseless. Intractable’s hull had broken, the forward portion spinning away while the after portion came apart into smaller pieces. Geary closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them to see the remnants of the battleship tumbling in different directions, no sign of life remaining on them. May your ancestors welcome you and the living stars warm your spirits.

  “We’ll avenge them,” Desjani almost snarled.

  “Yeah. We will. We’ve obviously found the reserve flotilla.” Geary began working up the intercept, assuming the Syndics would turn back toward this jump point. “How long until the fleet’s sensors give us a picture of what happened here?”

  “It should be pretty quick now.” On the heels of her words, system estimates began popping up. Desjani’s jaw tightened as she viewed her displays, where the fleet’s sensors and evaluation systems were showing their analysis of the latest wreckage. “The most recent debris correlates to two or three Alliance battle cruisers. Somewhere between nine and thirteen destroyers. One or two light cruisers. Four to six heavy cruisers. And two battleships, counting Intractable.” She let out a long breath. “Intractable held off the Syndics so the rest could get away, but there’s no way for the sensors to tell us how much that was.”

  “At least it wasn�
�t one-sided.” Geary watched new estimates appear. “It looks like they cost the Syndics one or two battle cruisers, a battleship, somewhere between ten and twenty HuKs, six or seven heavy cruisers, and eight to eleven light cruisers. Plus what was too damaged to pursue them through the jump.” A badly damaged Syndic battle cruiser, three heavy cruisers, and one light cruiser were spread out along the path of the battle, all of them limping on courses toward the second planet in the star system. Near the jump exit, another battle cruiser mauled by Intractable ’s last stand looked like it was turning toward the inner system, too.

  The fleet’s sensors were peering four light-hours across the edge of the star system, looking through the debris of battle to evaluate the size of the Syndic force, and those results finally appeared as well. “Sixteen battleships, fourteen battle cruisers, twenty heavy cruisers, forty-five light cruisers, one hundred ten Hunter-Killers.” He’d been hoping that Lieutenant Iger’s estimates were way too high. In fact, they seemed to have been all too accurate. “That’s what’s still operational in the reserve flotilla.”

  “We can take them,” Desjani insisted.

  “We’re going to have to. But I can’t finish plotting an intercept until they turn around and settle on new vectors.”

  He waited impatiently, the Alliance fleet eating up the distance to the jump point but close to two days’ travel away, until Desjani suddenly gasped. “They’re not turning around. They’re re-forming. They’re going to jump after the Alliance ships that escaped.”

  “Jump to Varandal?” The only thing worse than fighting the reserve flotilla here might be having to fight it at Varandal if the Syndics were able to inflict enough damage at that star system before the Alliance fleet could catch up to them.

  “Still almost four light-hours distant.” Desjani slammed a fist against the arm of her seat. “They’re going to jump before they even know we’re here.”

  “Maybe that’ll let us surprise them at Varandal.” His eyes went to the estimates of Alliance losses here. Two battleships. Had the other one been Dreadnaught? Was his grandniece Jane Geary dead, just when Geary had gotten heartbreakingly close to home, or was she in one of the escape pods littering this system?