“Thank you, Admiral.” Desjani gave him a curious look. “Whatever it is seems to have impressed you. Is it something we have to worry about?”
“I don’t know. For tonight, let’s just say that for some time now, humanity has been congratulating itself on how much we knew about the universe. And all that time it seems the universe has been laughing at us and making faces behind our back.”
HE didn’t know why he had expected the spider-wolf hypernet gate to look different from the ones humans and enigmas had constructed, but he had. And in that, Geary wasn’t disappointed. The spider-wolves had crafted the tethers in ways that evoked the webs Dr. Shwartz kept using as metaphors. To Geary, the spider-wolf hypernet gate looked not only like a great feat of engineering (just as human hypernet gates did), but also like a work of art. Nonetheless, it was still a hypernet gate.
“I don’t like hypernets,” Geary mumbled just loud enough for Desjani to hear. He didn’t want to share his feelings with everyone on the bridge.
She looked up from checking the status of Dauntless to ensure her ship was ready for the transit. “Why not?”
“It feels unnatural.”
“Compared to what? Jump space?”
He glowered at her. “You know what I mean.”
“No, I don’t,” Desjani replied. “Seriously. If you want to travel from one star to another, you can’t do it in less than decades without doing something weird. Personally, I think hypernet space isn’t as weird as jump space.”
He didn’t reply, feeling grumpy. Rione’s information was weighing on his mind, worries about Midway kept rising to the surface, the lack of solid information about what the enigmas had at Hua meant he had to worry about that—
“The spider-wolves want to know if we’re ready,” General Charban said.
Geary ran his eyes down the fleet status readouts. It could be better. A lot better. Too much damage, not enough time or resources for all of the repairs that needed to be done. But they were ready to go. “Yes. The fleet is ready. Will the spider-wolves give us a countdown?”
“I’m not certain,” Charban said after passing on Geary’s reply using the coordination circuit. The words had barely left his mouth when the universe twitched and the stars disappeared, leaving only darkness around Dauntless. “Correction. The answer is no, they will not provide a countdown.”
“Thank you, General.” Geary looked at the different kind of nothing that surrounded ships during hypernet transits. A bubble of nothing, Desjani had called it, in which the ships were suspended. According to physicists, they didn’t actually go anywhere, but at the other hypernet gate they would drop out into normal space a very long ways from where they had entered the gate here.
“Four days, the spider-wolves said,” Charban reminded Geary.
“We’re going a long way,” Desjani commented. “Did I tell you that the longer the trip in hypernet space, the less time it takes?”
“Yes, you did.” He remembered that moment vividly, waiting to go into the fleet conference room on Dauntless for the first time to assume command of a trapped fleet. It had been the first time he’d really met Tanya, and she had frightened him with her expressions of faith in his ability to save them all.
She had been right, but he still thought that luck had played far too large a part in that.
MAYBE it was being in hyperspace, which—being nowhere—shouldn’t cause any discomfort but still did as far as Geary was concerned. Maybe it was the many unknowns he had to face. Maybe something had reminded him of past trials.
In the middle of the ship’s night he woke up, sweating heavily, his eyes on the overhead reassuring him that it was intact. The clamor of alarms, the crash of explosions, and the screams of the dying still echoed in his head, but his stateroom was quiet with the hush that came during nights, even when those nights were artificial on ships far from any planet.
Geary sat up in the dark, rubbing his face with both hands, feet on the deck to reassure him with the solidity of the ship and the countless small vibrations transmitted through Dauntless, which told him that the ship lived.
“Admiral?” Desjani’s face was on his comm screen, her hair disheveled from sleep, her eyes still focusing as she came fully awake. In hypernet space, like jump space, even a battle cruiser commander could try to get a decent night’s sleep.
He took a deep breath before answering. “What is it?”
“‘What is it?’” You called me.”
“No, I didn’t.”
She frowned. “I can call up comm system records if you want. Maybe you hit the hot button to call me in your sleep, but you hit it.”
Feeling guilty, Geary looked at the controls ranked beneath the screen at his bunk. He could have accidentally hit the one that went direct to Tanya, especially since it was the closest one to where he might have flailed an arm while fighting battles in his sleep. “I’m sorry. It was just an accident.”
Instead of ringing off, she studied him. “You look like hell.”
“Thank you.”
“Nightmare?”
“Yes.”
She just waited, watching him with the patience of a cat standing sentry at a mousehole, ready to be there all the rest of the night if necessary.
“There was a battle,” Geary said. “That’s all. The usual.”
“The usual?” Tanya sighed. “You’re not the only one to get flashbacks. And I know about the nightmares about Merlon, remember? One of them woke me on our honeymoon. Was this just reliving Merlon’s last moments?”
He could have said yes, but she probably would have known he wasn’t being honest. “Partly. It was mixed in with other stuff.” She was still waiting. “I have these dreams sometimes. I’m on the bridge of Dauntless, or Merlon, and I’m in command of a fleet, and I’m not paying attention for a moment, just for a tiny moment, and all of a sudden enemies are there, right on top of us. Overwhelming numbers of them. I send orders, but they’re late, and they’re wrong, and ships get destroyed. Ships are being destroyed on all sides, and the ship I’m on is getting hit hard, and I know it’s the end because I know how that feels when a ship has lost, and it’s all my fault.”
“All right,” Tanya said. “Been there, though not the fleet commander part. Have you been getting stress therapy?”
“Yeah.” He felt a little better just from talking to her, though that had also brought back vividly the images of destruction from his nightmare. “They make it easier. They don’t make it go away.”
She laughed, low and soft and bitter. “You think I don’t know that? I’ve been fighting longer than you have, sailor.”
“I was hoping the treatments had gotten better in the century of the war.”
“They’ve had plenty of guinea pigs to practice on,” Desjani said with dry and dark humor. “But, no. Humans are complicated. When something goes wrong in our heads, recalibrating is not easy or simple. The docs these days can help us keep going when by all rights we should be unable to function, but they’re human, too, not gods. Stress and trauma are two of the never-ending benefits of military life, just like bad food, too little sleep, lousy living accommodations, and long separations from our families.”
He smiled wryly. “With benefits like that, you wonder why they have to pay us, too.”
“It is a puzzlement. Feel better?”
“Yeah,” Geary said.
“Liar. What else is there?”
He ran one hand through his hair. “In the nightmare, I saw you . . . die. Tanya, I swear that I don’t know what I’d do if—”
“If I died?” She said it in a hard and blunt way. “If that happens, you will suck it up and keep on doing your duty and living your life.”
He stared at her. “You think it would be that easy?”
“No, but that’s not the point. Do you think I’d want a memorial that consisted of a ruined man? ‘Yeah, that’s Black Jack. He used to be a hero before she died and destroyed him.’ Oh, yes. That’s what I want
everyone thinking about me when I’m gone.”
“Tanya—”
“No,” she interrupted again. “Not negotiable. If it comes to that, you will live the rest of your life. You will find happiness again, and you will continue to do the things you must do and should do. Is that clear?”
“Very clear,” Geary said. “Will you do the same?”
“What, if you die? The legendary, idolized hero of the Alliance? I’ll probably write a tell-all memoir and make more money than I can count. Don’t forget that my uncle is not only a literary agent, but he has yet to be caught doing anything unethical. Sleeping with Black Jack. How’s that for a title?”
He felt himself smiling. “Can you at least avoid calling me Black Jack while you’re making your money by selling the story of our time together?”
Tanya shook her head. “Nope. I’m sure marketing will insist on it. I can just imagine the kind of book cover they’ll insist on. Some really heroic pose by you doing something you never did, probably. Maybe in battle armor. With a gun.”
“Like that would ever happen. So if I die, you’ll just write a memoir?”
“No. I’ll probably get a cat, too.” She peered at him. “Now do you feel better?”
“Yes, Tanya, I do. Thanks. Are you going back to sleep now?”
“I’ll try.” Her expression went serious. “See the docs in the morning to find out if you need any extra therapy or stuff. This junk isn’t easy to live with.”
“I will,” Geary promised.
After his comm screen blanked, he lay down again, looking upward, wondering where he would be if he were facing all of this alone.
THE unnamed spider-wolf-occupied star system at the other end of the hypernet journey wasn’t the paradise the other star system had been, but it still offered a more-than-decent collection of planets and resources as well as plenty of spider-wolf towns on the single inhabited planet. Geary and the rest of the fleet didn’t see much of that star system and what it held, though, since the jump point the six escorting spider-wolf ships headed for was barely a light-hour from the hypernet gate. His lingering worries that the spider-wolves might take them somewhere else far from the promised destination dissipated as the fleet’s sensors scanned the heavens and confirmed that the stars were in the right places for them to be where they had expected to be.
Though Rione, Charban, and the civilian experts waited expectantly for communications from the spider-wolves, nothing came from either local sources or the escorts until the fleet was almost at the jump point.
“They want to know if we’re ready,” Charban said.
“We’re ready,” Geary replied, grateful that this time he would control when his ships jumped.
After the jump, Desjani eyed the gray emptiness around them. “The next star should be easy. The one after that might have trouble.”
“And the one after that will have trouble,” Geary said.
GEARY wasn’t too surprised when they arrived at what he thought of as the spider-wolf fortress star to find the same massive and stealthy mines lurking near every jump point, as well as another gorgeous formation of spider-wolf warships positioned where they could block any force coming from either of the other two jump points here. “Whatever the spider-wolves think of the enigmas, they clearly don’t trust them.”
“Look at this.” Desjani tapped the readings from the star with her forefinger, then indicated what the sensors were reporting of the four planets in this star system. “The star is showing erratic output. Something has disrupted it. And those planets have been swept hard by something more than once.”
“An erratic star could have thrown off some outbursts . . .” Geary studied the readings. “But that star isn’t the right type to be naturally erratic, and its rotation isn’t unusually fast.”
“Where have we seen this kind of thing before?” Desjani asked, her voice sounding chill and distant.
“Kalixa,” Geary said. “And Lakota. Though Lakota wasn’t as bad as this.”
“They’ve used those mines here.” Desjani swung her hand across her display, studying it intently. “More than once. The enigmas must have tried to push through here repeatedly.”
“I wonder what this place was like before that.”
Rione had come forward from the observation seat, staring ahead of her. “What happened here?”
“Hypernet gate–scale mines,” Desjani answered shortly, rattled enough to speak directly to Rione.
Geary nodded to reinforce her words. “The spider-wolves play for keeps when it comes to defending their space.”
Rione shuddered, closing her eyes. “How fortunate that the spider-wolves decided we were friends.”
You could almost feel the emotions on the bridge, the withdrawing within everyone from any sense of connection or trust in the spider-wolves. The Bubs. Any species that would routinely employ such weapons . . .
“Hold on.” General Charban had stepped forward as well, his intent gaze on the bridge displays. “What tactics would the spider-wolves use? Am I right, Admiral, that their ships here could simply withdraw toward a jump point, then leave as the mine was detonated to destroy all enemies in the star system behind them?”
Geary met Desjani’s eyes and saw the agreement there. “Yes. The spider-wolf ships are fast enough to make that tactic work against any enemy we know of.”
“Then, if we hadn’t been there at Honor,” Charban continued, “the spider-wolves could have done that. They didn’t need to fight the bear-cows. They could have gone to a jump point and waited until the bear-cows either got too far away from any other jump point to escape the blast, or the bear-cows gave up and went home. But the spider-wolves didn’t do that. They stayed and fought because we were there. They assisted us and took losses even though their own tactics wouldn’t have risked any of their ships or people.”
“You’re right.” Geary had been feeling a growing horror of the spider-wolves for using such weapons, but Charban’s idea countered that. “They chose to help us fight the bear-cows. Hell, they could have withdrawn and wiped out all of us, humans and bear-cows.”
Desjani blew out a long breath. “I am really glad I didn’t realize that at the time. Things were interesting enough as it was while we were fighting the Kicks.”
Low, harsh laughter came from Rione. “I have been worried. I have been concerned about what the Syndicate Worlds’ government might do. Would they try to launch attacks on the spider-wolves? I do not think I have to worry anymore.”
“Not about what might happen to the spider-wolves,” Geary agreed. “But we still have to worry. These defenses, and the fact that they’ve been used more than once, argue that the enigma presence at Hua is very strong.”
Desjani pointed ahead. “Our escort is heading straight for the jump point to Hua. They don’t seem to be worried.”
“Good for them.” Geary gave the orders to his fleet to follow in the wake of the six spider-wolf ships.
It took three days to cross almost the full width of the star system and reach the jump point for Hua, three days spent viewing the awful aftermath of repeated subnova bursts of energy from the spider-wolf mines. Repair and resupply work went on within and among the human warships, but with a somber determination rendered grim by the devastated star system around them. Shuttles crisscrossed through the fleet, bearing fuel cells, parts, weapons, and personnel.
“The stocks of raw materials on all of my auxiliaries are growing very low,” Captain Smythe reported. “There aren’t a lot of loose asteroids in this star system, so restocking with local resources isn’t much of an option.”
“I don’t think we would want raw materials from here in any event,” Geary said. Fleet tracking systems had identified quite a few distant asteroids that must have once orbited this star but had been blown outward by the repeated mine detonations and were now dispersing into the dark between stars. Some of those asteroids might once have been moons about the surviving planets. The smaller asteroids
must have been pulverized into dust by the same explosions. “Captain Smythe, we’re getting close to Midway. We can get new supplies there. Until then, I am actually grateful that your auxiliaries are carrying a lot less mass. That will make them relatively more nimble if we face a fight at Hua or Pele or Midway.”
“No one really uses the words ‘nimble’ and ‘auxiliaries’ in the same sentence,” Smythe pointed out. “Admiral, my reports have listed the steady decline in raw materials stockpiles on the auxiliaries. I know you have been kept aware of that. However, I must insist now on pointing out how perilously low levels of raw materials have become. According to my projections, Witch will run out of critical materials before we reach the jump point for Hua. Her personnel can still make repairs using what parts they have, but they will be unable to manufacture new components or new fuel cells or weapons. By the time we reach Pele, assuming we charge right through Hua, Jinn, Alchemist, and Cyclops will also be out of critical materials, and stockpiles on Titan, Tanuki, Kupua, and Domovoi will be within days of exhaustion.”
“Captain Smythe, I appreciate the seriousness of the supply situation,” Geary said. “I do not believe that we will have any prospect of getting raw materials at Hua. The enigma presence there will make that star system too perilous for mining operations. If we weren’t heading for Midway as quickly as feasible, then I would agree to stop at Pele in order to mine asteroids for more raw materials. But speed is of the essence now. We need to get to Midway in time to prevent the enigmas from devastating that star system.”
“That’s your call, Admiral,” Captain Smythe said, his customary cheery nature markedly subdued. “I have done my duty by ensuring that you know the consequences of your decision.”
“Thank you, Captain. Your engineers have done a remarkable job. I will be having a fleet conference this afternoon and will ensure that everyone is aware of the state of your supplies.”
The Lost Fleet: Beyond the Frontier: Invincible Page 27