The Lost Fleet: Beyond the Frontier: Guardian

by Jack Campbell

  After a long moment, Sakai nodded. “I believe that your reasoning is correct.”

  “Then,” Senator Suva insisted, “this may be a misunderstanding.”

  “I’m happy to go with that,” Geary said. “But we have to convince those outer-star people to laugh it off as well.”

  “They’re not going to accept anything that we say!” Rione replied. “As far as they are concerned, we planted a flag here, in Sol Star System. They are going to assert their own authority to counter our claim. Even if they haven’t been bribed, they would contest our presence here. If they have been paid to ensure we don’t leave this star system alive, it would only reinforce their own agenda of keeping the Alliance out. For all we know, whoever tipped them off that we were coming also claimed that we were coming to establish a permanent military presence here.”

  Costa grimaced. “I’d like to tell them to eat ground glass, but they outnumber us considerably.”

  “We must consider the appropriate course of action,” Sakai agreed. “For safeguarding the interests of the Alliance, for the safety of the mission, and for the safety of all aboard this ship.”

  “Nothing must be done until the governmental representatives on this vessel reach a decision,” Suva said, her eyes on Geary. “Our lives are on the line here as well.”

  Geary could feel the fleet personnel on the bridge stiffening at the words, but before he could speak, Rione did, her tone serious and agreeable.

  “You are right, Senator,” Rione said. “This must be debated and discussed. We must come up with a policy to address these unanticipated circumstances, and we should begin that discussion immediately.”

  “You have no vote in the matter,” Suva said with disdain.

  “Actually, I do. Senator Navarro gave me his proxy before we left.”

  “He—!”

  “But I don’t wish to use that proxy in haste. We need to talk about this. About who might have tried to ensure the failure of this mission and the destruction of this ship. About our best course of action. But we must talk in private.”

  “I don’t—” Costa began.

  “Of course we need to meet in private,” Suva declared, looking around the bridge, then pointedly at Costa. “Senator Sakai?”

  “Of course,” Sakai echoed.

  “Admiral Geary,” Rione said, “until we return with further guidance, you are to adhere strictly to the instructions the government already gave you.”

  “Yes!” Suva agreed. “Strictly adhere to them, Admiral.”

  “I will,” Geary said, trying not to smile. Rione was keeping a straight face, and if she could, so could he.

  Charban watched the three senators leave, then gave a rueful look to Geary. “Not being actually elected to anything, or holding any proxies for anyone who was, I have no role in the debate. I will instead attempt to pass your earlier message on to the Dancers, unless you believe it should be changed.”

  “Please do, General.” Geary indicated the Dancer ships on his display. “The Dancers still need to be told to stay well clear of the outer-star warships. But in light of that message we received, tell them there is some sort of misunderstanding that we need to work out, and until we do, it would be dangerous to approach those other ships.”

  “I will do my best to get the message across, Admiral,” Charban said. He paused, then saluted with a wry smile before leaving the bridge.

  Geary glanced at Desjani, who was staring stiff-jawed at her display. “What’s the matter?”

  She turned her glare on him. “They tied your hands. Or did you miss that?”

  “No, they didn’t. I was told to continue to follow previous instructions. Rione made sure that was emphasized before she and the others departed.”

  The glare shifted to realization. “And your previous instructions allow you to act as you see fit in unanticipated circumstances.”

  “Right.”

  “Damn!” Desjani seemed even more upset now. “I hate it when that woman does that!”

  “Does what?”

  “Does something that’s . . . not evil. It makes me wonder what she’s actually up to.” Desjani settled back, her expression becoming thoughtful. “What will you do?”

  “I could talk to them,” Geary said.

  “That didn’t work with the enigmas or the Kicks. It has rarely worked with the Syndics. And as much as I don’t want to agree with anything those politicians said, it is very suspicious that those ships knew we were coming and who would be aboard. If they knew that, and have taken the actions they already have, they’re not going to listen to anything we say.”

  “That’s a point. How about if I talk to them in a way they might understand? I’ll avoid admitting there are any Alliance governmental representatives aboard. That might confuse them. While we’re talking, we’ll keep heading for Old Earth.”

  “And if they’re after you?”

  “I’ll let them know we won’t roll over without a fight.”

  He took another long look at the image of the flashy, overdressed, and over-medaled commander of the outer-star warships, then hit the reply command. “Captain Commodore Tavistorevas, this is Admiral Geary of the Alliance fleet. As I am sure you understand, this warship is a sovereign extension of the Alliance itself. I cannot permit this battle cruiser to be boarded by a foreign power operating in a neutral star system. I am also charged by my government to safely escort to Old Earth the ships carrying emissaries from the alien species we know as Dancers. The Dancers are the only intelligent alien species with which humanity has yet managed to establish friendly relations. In accordance with my orders, I must protect them from any interference or harm, and I will do so.

  “Should you wish to issue a formal objection to the actions of the Alliance, please send it to me and I will ensure it is forwarded to appropriate authorities upon our return to the Alliance.

  “To the honor of our ancestors, Admiral Geary, out.”

  Desjani shrugged. “That can’t hurt. Hmmm. They’re pushing their velocity up to point two light. They’re definitely not just out to block us from leaving. They want to catch us.”

  “Admiral?” Lieutenant Iger’s image had reappeared. “Our systems have had a chance to evaluate how those warships maneuver. Their estimate is that the, uh, Shield of Sol warships have no armor.”

  “No armor?” Geary questioned.

  “There’s a small margin of possibility that light armor might be in place around critical areas,” Iger said.

  “What about weapons? I’m still just seeing a few weapon sites and types identified on my display.”

  “Those are all that have been confirmed or labeled as high-probability,” the intelligence officer explained. “All of the ornamentation on those ships could be concealing a lot of other weapons, but we’re doing pixel-by-pixel analysis of high-resolution scans. If there are more weapons, we’ll spot them.”

  “As soon as possible,” Geary emphasized, then gave Desjani a disgruntled look as Iger’s image vanished. “There have to be a lot more weapons on those ships. We need to have a better idea of what we might have to fight.”

  “No armor,” she mused. “But they’re not faster than us. Good. And unless I miss my guess, from the look and sound of Mister Medals, they have highly centralized command and control. If we can take him out, it might be a lot easier to handle the rest.”

  Geary looked at the formation of the other warships, a shallow tube longer than it was wide, with one of the megacruisers and two of the corvettes inexplicably spread out from each side. “Mister Medals is probably in that center warship. He won’t be easy to get to.”

  “No,” Desjani agreed. “Not without taking heavy fire from all sides, and Dauntless isn’t built to take that kind of punishment.”

  He didn’t answer, feeling increasingly gloomy as the situation sank in. Dauntless was alone. She had to look out for the six Dancer ships, but even without that handicap, the Alliance battle cruiser faced a difficult situation, ba
dly overmatched in numbers and firepower. Moreover, the enemy was an unknown quantity in many ways. What sort of tactics did they use? How good was their fire control? How powerful were their weapons? Was Mister Medals a good commander or the sort of aristocratic buffoon that he appeared to be? If he was really good, then the buffoon act might be totally misleading, designed to cause others to underestimate him.

  How much had the enemy been told about Dauntless by whoever had told them of the Alliance governmental representatives aboard her?

  Too many questions. Not nearly enough answers.

  And guessing wrong could be fatal, not just for Dauntless but for whatever hopes rested on humanity’s relationship with the Dancers.

  SEVENTEEN

  OLD Earth was much farther distant than the “Shield of Sol” warships, so it was no surprise that they had not yet heard anything from Sol Star System authorities when a reply came from the outer-star forces.

  The gaudy commander of the outer-star warships, whom Geary found himself unable to think of except as Mister Medals, this time acted not only bored but also how-dare-you imperious. “I am His Excellency Captain Commodore First Rank Stellar Guard of the Fist of the People Earun Tavistorevas, Paramount of the Shield of Sol. You are to use my full title when communicating with an officer of my position. I have no interest in whatever orders you received from the vulgar leaders of your barbarous society. You will comply with my orders. If you do not immediately reduce velocity and power down all offensive and defensive systems, I will destroy you as well as every tramontane impurity you have brought into our Home.”

  “I don’t think they want to negotiate,” Desjani said, as the transmission ended. Her words sounded light, but her expression was dour.

  Geary knew why. The Shield of Sol ships had kept closing on Dauntless. Having upped their velocity to point two three light speed, the other warships were only a couple of hours from overtaking the Alliance battle cruiser. Of the many other spacecraft in Sol Star System, all of them civilian ships, the ones whose tracks would have brought them anywhere near the tracks of Dauntless and the other warships had all altered course to stay well away. They obviously expected the worst. The Dancers had stayed with Dauntless, but was that for the best? Wouldn’t they be safer if he told them to scatter, to head for the hypernet gate and home? But what if they didn’t listen? How could he protect them? How could Dauntless be saved? In an attempt to distract himself, Geary spoke loudly. “Does anyone have any idea why he keeps using terms that have to do with purity and vulgarity?”

  Everyone on the bridge shook their heads, so Geary repeated the question to Lieutenant Iger.

  “No, sir. They seem to think they are somehow special.”

  “I had already gathered that on my own,” Geary said, breaking the call to Iger with an abruptness he knew was unusual. Something was bothering him. Something that loomed just beyond his conscious awareness like a huge beast staying out of his sight but close enough that he could tell it was there.

  He stared at his display, feeling an unusual tightness in his guts. He could feel his breaths becoming quicker and shallower. A strange object seemed to be stuck in his throat.

  “Admiral?”

  He had been here before. He hadn’t been good enough that time.

  “Admiral.”

  Desjani’s tone broke through Geary’s fixation on his display. He looked over at her.

  She was watching him with first surprise, then appraisal. “What’s the matter?”

  He tried to answer, and that effort finally caused him to understand what had rattled him so badly. Why now? I can’t have a flashback now. I thought I was past this. Whatever was impeding his breathing also kept him from saying anything.

  Desjani was leaning close, her voice very low and fierce. “Dammit, Jack, what’s the matter?”

  He met her eyes and managed to say one word. “Grendel.”

  “Grendel?” Tanya eyed him, puzzled, then her expression cleared. “Grendel. You, one ship, against bad odds, trying to protect a convoy. This is the first time you’ve faced that situation since you fought there.”

  He nodded. Thank our ancestors that she understood, that I didn’t have to try to explain something I don’t entirely understand. This isn’t Grendel.

  “This isn’t Grendel,” she said on the heels of his own thought.

  Words broke from him in a sudden rush. “Tanya, I had my ship blown apart around me. Most of my crew killed. If that happens again—”

  “This is my ship, Admiral. If Dauntless gets blown apart, I will be on her bridge fighting her to the last.”

  Geary stared at her. “Is that supposed to make me feel better?”

  She actually reached across and grabbed his wrist, the sort of physical contact they normally avoided to keep anyone from gossiping about the admiral and his wife the captain. “Listen. If I die here, it won’t be just your fault. It’ll be mine, too. This is my ship. I will stay with her until the end. And you will get everyone you can off of her, if that is our fate. We’ve been blessed with each other for a time far too short. But we never should have met at all. You should have died a century ago. You didn’t, and I won’t now.”

  “Tanya—”

  “Listen. I am certain that I can drive Dauntless better than any of those pretty boys and girls on their fancy ships. One-on-one, I’d kick their butts. But we’re up against a bunch of them, and I need somebody looking at the overall situation, outthinking and outguessing Mister Medals. Together, we can do this. But this is no time for stress memories to throw you off. If that happens, if you go jelly on me, we’re dead. Will you go jelly on me?”

  “No!”

  She bared her teeth in a grin that was half snarl. “Damn straight. You never have, and you never will. Throw it off or bury it or whatever you need to do until we’ve beaten these guys. Can you do that, or do I need to call a doc up here to give you some head meds?”

  “Yes.” He realized only after saying the word how calmly and firmly it had come out. “I can do that. But get a doc here anyway. Everybody up here can tell I’m rattled, and I want them to see I’m dealing with it smart. Thanks to you. What did I ever do to deserve you?”

  “Not enough. I’ll let you know if you ever get there. But this is my duty, Admiral. Don’t forget that I’d be doing this no matter who was sitting in that seat.” Desjani released his wrist and settled back in her seat, tapping one of her internal comm controls. “Sick bay, we need a head check on the bridge. Nothing critical, just some safeguards.”

  Geary rubbed his chin and cast discreet glances around the bridge. As he suspected, everyone was pretending not to have noticed anything unusual regarding the admiral and their commanding officer. Being able to pretend you hadn’t noticed a superior officer’s behavior was one of the essential survival traits in the fleet, and probably in any military throughout human history. “All right. We’ve got a couple of hours even if we don’t accelerate to reposition.” He had learned to say such things the right way. The fleet, scarred by a century of war and fixated on honor, did not retreat, and it did not flee pursuit. It repositioned. “We’ve got some advantages.”

  “Right. We’re faster.” Desjani waved at her display. “We’ve got more mass than those megacruisers, but even bigger main propulsion relative to that, so we’ve got a better thrust-to-mass ratio. Assuming their inertial dampers are no better than ours, we can outturn and outaccelerate them.”

  He frowned at his own display. “Anything else?”

  “They’ve got even less armor than we do.” She frowned at her display. “In terms of weapons, it doesn’t feel right at all. They’ve got to have more weaponry than we’re seeing. I can’t call that an advantage. Maybe they don’t have a null-field generator, but we’ll have to get awful close to use that, and they might have something different but just as deadly.”

  “Not much good there,” Geary commented. “What else?”

  “We’ve got you.”

  Geary actually fe
lt himself smiling. “And you. Best damned ship driver in the fleet.”

  She grinned. “And my crew,” she added. “Been there, done that. We know our job.”

  He paused to think, only to be interrupted by the communications watch-stander. “Captain, we have a message from Sol Star System authorities.”

  “Route it to the Admiral and me,” she ordered.

  Geary watched intently as the comm window popped into existence near him. He had somehow expected the people of Old Earth to look different. Older. Wiser. Smarter. But the two women and one man who looked out at him didn’t seem any different from anyone else he had ever talked to. Perhaps there was a tinge of fatigue around their eyes, a sense of age beyond the years their faces revealed. Their clothes were nothing like the ornate uniforms on the warships, instead being simple in design, the colors evoking a sense of brightness faded but still strong.

  “Greetings to the ship Dauntless of the Alliance,” one of the women said. “We are excited beyond measure at the news you bring of contact with a nonhuman intelligence, and at the possibility of meeting the ambassadors from that species you have escorted here.

  “Unfortunately, as you must have already discovered, Sol Star System has been occupied by a military force from the Covenant of the First Stars, which claims to be protecting us. We have protested their actions and have been trying for the last two decades to reach agreement on procedures for attempting to assemble a coalition of other nearby powers to expel the Covenant warships from Sol. However, that effort has been complex due to the special status of Sol and worries about provoking aggression from the Covenant against other star systems. There have been no wars in this region of space for several decades, and no major conflicts for the last two centuries.”