The abandoned Syndic station they had seen when last passing through Padronis was still here, circling in lonely orbit about the star, which would someday in the distant future blast it apart. That’s where the other ship was, a single freighter docked to the emergency rescue station the Syndics had built at Padronis over a century ago, before the hypernet, when ships had to jump from star to star to get anywhere, including stars with nothing at them like Padronis. The station had been decommissioned decades ago, everything shut down and left in place because it would cost more to move it than it was worth.
“What’s the freighter doing?” Geary asked. Nothing else was visible in the star system even though the fleet’s sensors were looking for anything, even the tiniest anomaly. “Make sure nothing unusual the sensors spot gets stuck in the noise filters. I want even junk that looks like junk to be checked carefully.”
“There’s nothing,” Desjani said, shaking her head. “That freighter at the station is three light-hours from us, so it isn’t any possible threat.”
“Captain?” Lieutenant Castries said. “We’ve spotted material being loaded on the freighter.”
“Material?”
A call came in from Tanuki. It wasn’t high-priority, but Geary didn’t have much else to do at the moment. “What’s up, Captain Smythe?”
Smythe twitched a brief smile. “That freighter. He’s looting the station.”
“Looting? Are you sure?”
“There’s a very minor chance that the Syndic authorities chartered the ship to pick up equipment that they need elsewhere, but it’s unlikely. Now that the Syndicate Worlds’ government has little authority around here and a lot of other things to worry about, that freighter has come out to this mothballed, off-limits station to haul away everything and anything its owners can sell, even if just for scrap.”
Geary stared at the image of the freighter, his instincts urging him to do something. But what? “Even though that station was mothballed, it still must have held a lot of equipment and supplies that could be critical for any ship passing through Padronis that suffered a serious problem.”
“Right,” Smythe agreed. “Absolutely right. And the looters don’t care. They’re out to make some money even though it could cause tragedy for someone else. That’s how things go when central authority collapses, Admiral. The rich and powerful can still take care of themselves. It’s the people who need help who get hurt the worst. As usual.”
“Thank you, Captain Smythe. I guess there’s nothing we can do about it.”
“No. We could chase this looter off, but another one would show up after we left.” Smythe ended the call with a resigned shrug.
“Admiral,” Desjani said, “look at the Dancers.”
He looked. At Sobek, the Dancers had tried to warn the fleet of danger. At Simur, they had stayed close to Invincible, apparently because of the threats from the Syndics there.
But here the Dancers had left the confines of the Alliance formation, swooping around in a way that made Geary think of giddy elation. “They look like they feel safe.”
“I don’t,” Desjani admitted. “I can’t forget what happened the last time we were here.” The dust that had been the heavy cruiser Lorica and her crew still circled this star, a fate that had nearly befallen Dauntless as well. “Can we head for home?”
“Yeah. Let’s go. Head straight for the jump point for Atalia.”
—
ATALIA was a living star system though a badly hurt one because of its front-line position during the long war. The fleet came out of jump cautiously again, but Geary had not really expected trouble here. Atalia was too close to Alliance space and had already declared its independence from the Syndicate Worlds. The Syndics would have had a nearly impossible task setting any traps here.
Which made it all the more surprising when combat systems sounded alerts as they arrived from jump.
“Syndics!” Desjani glared at Geary. “Two heavy cruisers near the jump point for Kalixa and four light cruisers and six HuKs near the jump point for Varandal. The Syndics must have moved to take back this star system. Don’t we have grounds for kicking them out again?”
“Maybe.” After everything they had been through, the idea of pushing the Syndics out of Atalia had a great deal of appeal despite its questionable legal basis. “That’s strange. The courier ship is still here, and near those light cruisers and HuKs.”
Inexplicably, the Alliance courier ship still orbited near the jump point for Varandal. That ship represented the Alliance’s halfhearted commitment to keep an eye on Atalia but had never offered any real defense of the star system if the Syndicate Worlds came storming in to force Atalia back into their empire. As it seemed the Syndicate Worlds had. But why hadn’t the courier ship left when that happened? Even if not threatened by the Syndics, it would need to carry the news of the event back to Varandal.
Before Desjani could reply, hull identifications began popping up on their displays. “We know those Syndic ships?” she asked, mystified.
“They’re not Syndic ships?” Geary asked as the colors on the display changed. “They’re—They’re from Midway? They hadn’t sent—Manticore? Kraken? Those heavy cruisers were still at Midway when we left!”
Desjani’s expression had hardened further. “They could only have gotten here before us by using the Syndic hypernet to go somewhere like Indras. The Syndics did do something to temporarily block use of their hypernet, and the ones at Midway were in on that trick.”
“Hold on.” Geary took a moment to think, aware that the unexpectedness of this had left him off-balance. “If they had been part of a Syndic trick, why let us know by being here when we came through? They couldn’t have expected this entire fleet or even the majority of it to be destroyed even if everything we ran into had been one hundred percent effective. Let’s head for the jump point for Varandal while we wait to hear their explanation for being here.”
When that explanation eventually came, they saw Kommodor Marphissa gazing at them. “If she is faking happiness at seeing us, she is doing a good job,” Rione commented.
“Admiral Geary,” Marphissa said, “we are pleased to see you again. Two days after your departure from Midway, we regained access to all gates on the Syndicate hypernet. The Syndicate must have learned how to temporarily shut down most or all of their hypernet. We are bending every effort to learn how they do this but so far have no information.
“We came here at the suggestion of Captain Bradamont, who told us of the captured Reserve Flotilla survivors at Varandal. Those survivors could provide the crews we need for our warships, so President Iceni approved a recovery mission. Six freighters have gone on to Varandal, accompanied by Captain Bradamont, who assured us that Admiral Timbale would do as you wished in your absence.
“We are nonetheless concerned for her and our ships and are glad that you will soon reach Varandal as well. If there is anything the warships of the Recovery Flotilla of the independent Midway Star System can do to assist you, please let us know. Marphissa, for the people, out.”
For a moment, no one spoke, then Rione shrugged. “I wasn’t expecting that. What do you suppose happened when Captain Bradamont and those six freighters got to Varandal?”
“Hopefully, they’ve been picking up those Syndic prisoners,” Geary said. “I hope my orders provided sufficient cover for Captain Bradamont.”
“That Kommodor actually seemed sincere when she expressed concern for Captain Bradamont,” Rione commented.
“Syndics are good liars,” Desjani said. “And she was probably actually concerned about her freighters. I know, I know,” she added, when Geary turned a look on her. “These aren’t Syndics anymore. Well, they’re welcome to those deadweight prisoners at Varandal, right?”
“Right,” Geary agreed. “And if these ships from Midway are only here waiting for the freighters to return, we don’t have to deal with them. They’re no threat to Atalia.”
“They are actually a defense for
Atalia,” Rione pointed out.
Geary shook his head. “Another thing I never expected to see.” He tapped his comm control. “Kommodor Marphissa, you should be aware that the Syndicate Worlds launched deniable attacks on us at Sobek and Simur. We would appreciate any more information you have about what happened with the Syndic hypernet. We are proceeding to the Varandal jump point. Once at Varandal, if Captain Bradamont and your ships are still present, we will ensure that they depart safely. It is, uh, good to see you again as well. To the honor of our ancestors, Geary, out.”
“Did you have to add that good to see you stuff?” Desjani grumbled.
The authorities at Atalia were more than welcoming, falling over themselves to offer the great Black Jack anything he might need (if they had it), expressing cautious thanks for the protection offered by the flotilla from Midway (and implying how nice it would be if the Alliance made a similar commitment of forces) while also complaining that the Midway ships had, since arriving, blocked anyone from jumping for Kalixa and Indras beyond, and by the way just what were those six mysterious ships that resembled no human construction and where had that superbattleship, also of unfamiliar design, come from? Geary let Rione offer ambiguous thanks-but-no-thanks responses that provided no real information on the fleet or where it had been.
The small crew of the courier ship were also hopping with curiosity. They confirmed that six freighters had arrived with the Midway forces and jumped for Varandal several days ago. Knowing how boring and thankless the courier ship’s sentry assignment at Atalia was, Geary offered the crew a sanitized version of the report he had prepared for fleet headquarters and the Alliance government.
As they approached the jump point for Varandal, Rione asked to speak with him privately. Suspecting what she was going to say, Geary only reluctantly granted her request.
“I hope you don’t think the danger is over,” she began, standing in his stateroom after declining his offer of a seat.
Unhappy to have guessed right, Geary sat down himself and leaned back, looking at the overhead. He had been doing more of that since talking with Charban about the patterns that humans saw in things, wondering what a Dancer would see in those same shapes. Or what an enigma would see, or a Kick. But only the Dancers might someday provide an answer. “I know we’re going to face some challenges in Alliance space . . .”
“The problems we left remain and have likely gotten worse,” Rione cautioned. “Too many people in the Alliance think that you’re a gift from the living stars who will save the Alliance, and too many others think you’re the greatest threat the Alliance has ever faced.”
“And,” Geary said in a tired voice, “there are plenty of people in between those extremes who are playing their own games in the full belief that they are in the right. What can I do?”
“Wait, watch, and react.” She made a helpless gesture. “There are too many players, all working at their own games. Speaking of different players, I am increasingly worried about what the ships from the Callas Republic and the Rift Federation will do when we get to Varandal.”
First Dr. Nasr and now Rione. For both to mention it meant the problem was getting serious. “I have told the crews of those ships that I will do everything I can—”
“I don’t think that’s good enough, Admiral,” Rione insisted. “Captain Hiyen is extremely worried. As he put it, there’s nothing big happening, but there are constant, minor tremblings in the crews that put him in mind of how earthquakes are forecast. You may not have time to act. Last time they returned to Varandal, they waited for orders and were rewarded by being ordered to go out again with you instead of being allowed to go home, as they had every right to expect. I don’t know what may happen this time. Just be prepared for an earthquake from that direction.”
Geary nodded wearily. “As opposed to being prepared for earthquakes from every other direction.”
“Yes. I don’t like playing defense, but it’s all we have in this case. Just parrying problems as they come at us is the best we can hope for. Unless some new factor changes things.”
“New factor?” Geary looked at her. “We are bringing the Dancers back.”
“There’s no predicting the impact of that,” Rione said. “Especially since I can’t predict what the Dancers will do. They have chosen to accompany us. I still don’t know why. Maybe once we reach Alliance territory, the Dancers will tell us.”
He looked back at the tangle of wires, conduits, and cables overhead. “Someone didn’t want me, didn’t want this fleet, to come back.”
“But you are coming back. With a fleet that is still powerful. Why didn’t that statement produce any sign of satisfaction in you? Is there something you’re not telling me, Black Jack?”
“That would be a change.”
“It would. And you’re avoiding answering the question.”
“Do you know that the Alliance government is building a new fleet?”
She stared at him, showing open surprise for possibly the first time since he had met her. “Where did you hear that?”
Geary smiled, a mere bending of his mouth without feeling behind it. “I have my sources.”
“How large a fleet?” If Rione had known of this, she was doing an excellent job of hiding it.
“Twenty battleships, twenty battle cruisers, an appropriate number of escorts.”
She eyed him for what felt like almost a minute before speaking again. “I can check on that information when we get back. Were you told officially?”
“Hell, no.”
“Damn. That could mean several things, all of them bad.” Rione shook her head. “What’s that old saying? Against stupidity, the gods themselves contend in vain. I’m not even a god.”
“Neither am I. Do we have a chance?”
She paused, then smiled in a very enigmatic way. “Of course we do. Black Jack is on our side.”
He was still searching for an answer to that when Rione left.
The next day, having gone much farther through unexplored space than humans were known to have ever gone before, and having fought its way out and back again, the fleet jumped for Alliance space and home.
—
VARANDAL.
Geary felt a sense of relaxation fill him. This was home. This was part of the Alliance. His friends and advisors would warn that Varandal was full of plots by enemies both political and military, that he could not relax his guard for an instant in so-called “friendly” space, but for now he kept his emotions firmly fixed on denial and imagined that only rest and support awaited him and his fleet at Varandal.
“I hope they don’t shoot at us,” Tanya mumbled, making Geary’s exercise in self-deception that much harder to sustain.
“Why would they shoot at us?” he asked.
“Because you’re Black Jack coming back to do something. Because we’ve got the former Kick superbattleship with us. Because we’ve got the six Dancer ships with us. Because Bradamont came here with six Syndic freighters and stirred them up. Because they’re idiots.”
“Admiral Timbale is not an idiot,” Geary said, trying to salvage the last shreds of his tranquillity.
“If he’s still in command at Varandal.” Desjani gave him a narrow-eyed look. “Be ready for anything when we leave jump.”
“You know, I am the admiral here.”
“Then I respectfully advise that the admiral be prepared for any possible event when we exit jump, sir.”
Sighing and rubbing his eyes, Geary straightened in the command seat. He knew better than to point out that Tanya was echoing the warnings that Rione had given him a few days before. I didn’t think about this sort of thing when I married the commanding officer of my flagship.
“What?”
“I didn’t say anything,” Geary insisted.
“Yes, you— Never mind. We’re about to arrive.” Desjani gave him one more admonishing glance, then focused on her display.
He did the same, seeing one of the lights of jump space
suddenly erupt seemingly directly in their path. There was no telling how far off the light was, no way to tell how distant anything was in jump space, but Geary had the sense that Dauntless was plunging right into the light as it dropped out of jump.
Intakes of breath by the others on the bridge told him that they had seen the same thing.
Then the welcome blackness of normal space and the lights of countless stars appeared, including the brighter glare of the dot of light that was the nearby star Varandal.
No alarms sounded as the fleet’s sensors looked around, taking in the situation. By the time Geary had shaken off the brain fuzz caused by the transition out of jump space, his display had updated to show a comfortingly routine-appearing picture of human activity at Varandal.
Until the display hiccuped, and the images of more than a dozen Alliance stealth shuttles appeared near Ambaru station. “What the hell are they doing out?”
“Ambaru must see them,” Desjani muttered, checking her own data. “They’ve got their tracking emissions on. That’s how we can see them this far out.”
He called up the data and saw that she was right. The stealth shuttles were putting out tiny emissions that normally would look like background noise within a star system. Only sensors alerted to look for particular patterns hidden within that noise would spot the tracking signatures. “A drill? Why the hell?”
“Maybe they know,” Desjani suggested, pointing to the images of an Alliance light cruiser and two destroyers only half a light-hour from the jump point. “Coupe, Bandolier, and Spearhand. What are they doing out here?”
“Heading back in toward the star,” Geary said, frowning. “And no sign of those six Syndic freighters.”
“No debris from them, either,” Desjani pointed out.
“Let’s head in ourselves. We’ll send in the standard arrival reports and nothing else while I wait to hear from Timbale.”
“And if Timbale isn’t still here?”
“Then I’ll hear from whoever took over from him.”
It took a few hours, of course. Coupe and Bandolier were tight-lipped when Geary called them, saying only that they had been carrying out special maneuvers on orders from Admiral Timbale. But there had been enough chatter among other ships and stations at Varandal to provide a partial picture of events as Lieutenant Iger pieced it together.
The Lost Fleet: Beyond the Frontier: Guardian Page 28