Invincible

TWELVE

“All units, come port zero two zero degrees, down four degrees, and accelerate to point one light speed at time four zero.” The First Fleet of the Alliance, battered but once again ready to face whatever awaited it, headed for the jump point designated by the spider-wolves. Ahead of the human fleet, the six spider-wolf ships that would accompany it easily maintained a distance exactly one light-minute ahead.

They would be transiting through spider-wolf space, not fighting their way through, so Geary had arranged the fleet in a simple, vast elliptical formation, relatively compact, nonthreatening, and one of the more graceful formations he could have chosen from. The assemblage of human ships still looked crude judged against the spider-wolf formation, as if a barely organized band of barbarians had stumbled into the midst of a formal dance, but it didn’t look as bad in comparison as some of the other choices would have. In the center of the ellipse of human warships, protected alongside the assault transports and the auxiliaries, four battleships mated to the captured superbattleship strained to pull it along with the fleet.

As they moved across the outer span of the star system, the main spider-wolf formation, still watching the jump point leading to the bear-cow star Pandora, slid past to their right. The beautiful whorls and patterns of the spider-wolf formation changed as the view from the human ships altered, the curves seeming to swirl and melt in upon themselves.

“Four and a half light-hours to the jump point. Forty-five hours’ travel time if you want to keep to point one light speed,” Desjani announced.

“It wouldn’t be worth the cost in fuel cells to speed up, then slow down again for the jump,” Geary said. “Not for the small amount of time we’d gain. And getting the captured superbattleship up to speed or slowing it down again is not fast or easy to do.”

“Is the hypernet gate at the next star?”

“Our emissaries and our experts aren’t sure,” Geary replied. He watched his display, trying to relax the tension inside him as he waited for problems to pop up. But no propulsion units failed, no maneuvering difficulties appeared, and no pieces came off any of the ships. It doesn’t take all that much to make me happy these days. A century ago, when I was in a peacetime fleet with ships made to last at least several decades, I never could have imagined being thrilled to see none of my ships break when we started a simple movement. “If the hypernet gate isn’t at the next star, we’ll be able to use the additional time in transit and jump space for more repair work.”

“You’ve gotten very good at rationalizing things,” Desjani said.

“I don’t have any choice. We need to get to Midway before the enigmas do, but we can only get there so fast.” He had seriously considered leaving the bear-cow superbattleship with a strong escort to follow on behind while he took the rest of the fleet ahead on a dash to Midway. But General Charban had expressed serious doubts that he could get across to the spider-wolves that the human fleet wanted to split and pass through their space in two separate movements. And there was no telling what might await them at any star system they would have to jump through to reach human space after using the spider-wolf hypernet. What if one of those star systems was occupied by the enigmas? What would the enigmas do when they saw a bear-cow warship being towed along by the human fleet? Probably something drastic.

But nothing had gone wrong yet, and as Geary sat there watching everything happen without a hitch, he realized how incredibly worn-out he was after the last several days of unrelenting work. The effects of the rest day he had ordered hadn’t lasted all that long, probably because he hadn’t really had much chance to rest. “I’m going to get some sleep.”

He walked down to his stateroom, feeling the mixture of tension, relief, and happiness among the crew members he passed. Happiness to be on the way home again. Relief to be under way. Tension over what they might find along the way home.

Senior Chief Tarrini smiled as she saluted Geary. “Are there any more questions you need answered, Admiral?”

Geary almost said no, then paused. “Yes, Senior Chief. I’ve heard the sailors using a word I haven’t heard before.”

“Well, now, Admiral, you know sailors—”

“It’s not that kind of word, Senior Chief. At least I don’t think so. Do you know what ‘Bub’ means?”

“‘Bub’?” Tarrini asked.

“Yes, and I can tell by the way you asked me that you do know what it means.”

The senior chief nodded. “It’s short for Big Ugly Bugs, Admiral. Or Butt-Ugly Bugs. It’s what the sailors are starting to call the, uh…”

“The spider-wolves.” Geary let his unhappiness show. “They’re our allies, Senior Chief. They fought alongside us, they took losses fighting alongside us, and they’re helping us get home quickly.”

“Yes, sir, Admiral,” Tarrini agreed. “But you know sailors. To them, those guys are Bubs. Though I think some Marines might have actually coined the term. You know how Marines are.”

Geary looked around, exasperated. “I also know what would happen if I ordered the fleet not to use the term ‘Bub.’”

“Every sailor would be using it as much as possible,” Senior Chief Tarrini said. “And the Marines would be using it even more.”

“Do you have something against Marines, Senior Chief?”

“Hell, no, Admiral. I was married to a Marine for a while, before he moved on to take another objective, as they say. I hardly ever think about that bas—I mean, that individual, sir.”

“I’ll take your word for it.” Geary looked the senior chief in the eye. “Do me a favor. Spread the word that I have heard the term ‘Bub,’ and I don’t like it. It makes me unhappy to know people are using it.”

“Certainly, Admiral.” Senior Chief Tarrini saluted him again. “Everyone will know you’d rather they not use that term. If anything can keep it under control, that will. But it won’t go away. You know sailors.”

“I do, yes, Senior Chief. Thank you.”

For the rest of his walk, Geary found the strength to look unconcerned and ready for anything as he returned salutes, then slumped against his hatch once safely inside his stateroom. He dropped down on his bunk without undressing, finally feeling that he could justify some time asleep.

His comm panel buzzed relentlessly.

Geary finally roused enough to hit the hold control, knowing that if it were a real emergency, he would be getting a different alert from the device. He took enough time to get his uniform in halfway-decent shape before answering.

Captain Smythe’s beaming face seemed oddly incongruous. “Good afternoon, Admiral. I have good news.”

“That would be welcome.” Geary sat down, rubbing his face with both hands.

“Our engineers have extensively analyzed the systems failures that occurred when preparing for the battle here. They have concluded that the spike in failures was caused by the extra stresses on already-weak systems during the power ramp-ups.”

“I thought we already knew that.”

“We did.” Smythe’s smile grew smug. “But, Admiral, here’s what we didn’t know. We blew out the weakest system components. That means we had a spike then, but it also means we will now have a period of relatively low failures. Those components most prone to failure have failed. Those components that didn’t fail will probably last a little longer before going bad.”

Geary ran that through his head once, then one more time to make sure he had understood it. “You’re telling me that the next time we go into battle we shouldn’t have a sudden cascade of failures on numerous ships.”

“As long as that battle isn’t too far in the future. If it is within the next month or so, you’ll be fine.”

“That is good news.”

“You don’t have to sound so surprised, Admiral.”

Realizing that he was smiling, Geary pushed his luck. “Does this mean we’ll have a chance to get a little ahead on the repair and replacement work?”

Smythe shook his head. “No, sir. We’re so far behind the curve on that one that we’re in danger of being rear-ended by ourselves. We will continue to get done what we can, but there will be many more system failures before we can get so many internal systems rebuilt on so many ships.”

“I understand.”

“It would help,” Smythe added, “if we didn’t have to spend quite so much time repairing battle damage.”

“I’ll see what I can do to avoid further battle damage, Captain Smythe.” Geary tried to think. There was something else… “Has Lieutenant Jamenson discovered anything else regarding that topic she was researching?”

“Researching? Oh, that. I’m afraid she’s been as busy as the rest of us lately, Admiral. As a matter of fact, she’s on Orion right now as part of the tiger team overseeing the tow linkages to the BKS.”

“The BKS?” Geary asked, squinting as he tried to recall what such an acronym could stand for.

“The Big Kick Ship,” Smythe explained.

I have to come up with an official name for that thing, Geary thought. “Very well, Captain Smythe. Thank you for the good news.”

Once Smythe’s image had gone, Geary cast a longing look at his bunk. But the last conversation had brought up other matters that he had to check on. He called Admiral Lagemann on the captured bear-cow superbattleship.

Lagemann answered fairly quickly, grinning at Geary. The other admiral gestured around him. “Greetings from the bridge of my command, Admiral Geary.”

“Have we confirmed that’s the bridge?”

“We’re pretty sure it is,” Lagemann said. “The Kicks have some interesting variations in design philosophy from normal human practice.” He ran one hand just above his head. “They also don’t build their overheads as high as we do. My prize crew is suffering an inordinate number of blows to the head whenever we move around. We’re all developing posture problems.”

“How much space have you got?” Geary asked.

“This bridge. Some adjoining compartments. The engineers rigged temporary portable life support for these areas. If we go outside those areas, we need to be suited up because the atmosphere in the rest of the ship has become as foul as the air in a port-side bar.” Lagemann indicated some panels propped before him. “They’ve also run some sensor and comm cables and linked up a basic network for us so we can see what’s going on outside.”

“Does any of the bear-cow stuff still work?”

“We don’t know.” Lagemann reached toward one of ship’s control consoles but stopped short of touching anything. “The engineers got everything shut down and have strongly advised against trying to power up any of the Kick systems again. They’re worried that some self-destruct routine might have been triggered by the Kicks but hung up or locked up before activating. If we restarted a system, that might clear such a glitch, with very unfortunate consequences.”

Geary breathed a silent prayer of thanks that someone had thought of that. “How is everything else over there?”

“We have Marine sleeping gear and Marine rations,” Lagemann said. “The sleeping gear isn’t bad at all.”

“What about the rations?”

“They’re better than fleet battle rations, though that doesn’t mean much.”

“No. It doesn’t.”

Lagemann grinned. “We’re a bit cramped and a bit uncomfortable, but we’ve all seen worse conditions. As for me, I am in command of by far the largest warship to ever be part of the Alliance fleet. I’m good.”

“Let me know if conditions aboard deteriorate or if you run into anything or discover anything that you think I should know about.”

“Have you talked to Angela Meloch or Bran Ezeigwe on Mistral?” Lagemann asked.

“Very briefly. Admiral Meloch and General Ezeigwe have been told that they have a clear channel to call me with anything they think I need to know.”

“Then you’re in good hands.” Lagemann reached out again, this time gently running his fingers across the edge of a bear-cow control console. “The malcontents on Mistral and Typhoon won’t let go of the past. They want to be who they once were, they want to fulfill the roles they once dreamed of living during the war. I told them before I left, ‘That’s all gone. You can’t rewrite what has happened. But you can find new dreams, and those are all around us.’ Many of them seemed chastised by that, and by events in the past few months. Had you taken us home right after we were liberated, the homecoming would have been very interesting and very lively. But now that things have had time to soak in, now that we’ve all had time to absorb the changes, you have a lot less to worry about from that quarter.” Lagemann smiled with simple joy. “An alien spacecraft, Admiral Geary. Something built by an intelligence different than our own. It’s simply awesome.”

“It is,” Geary agreed. “With everything that’s going on, I can lose sight of that. When we get that ship home, and the spider-wolf delegation with it, we’re going to learn answers to things we’ve been wondering about ever since our first ancestor gazed up at the stars for the first time.”

“Will we like those answers? I have to wonder.”

“Like them or not, we’ll have to deal with them.”

As they finally approached the jump point nearly two days later, Geary found his gaze straying repeatedly to the other jump point from which they had arrived in this star system. He kept wondering if more bear-cows would appear, a second wave of attackers intent on wiping out the new predators who had appeared on the Kick’s doorstep.

Then his eyes would go to hundreds of small markers on his display, each with its own vector aimed inward toward the star. Hundreds of dead from this fleet, on their final journey toward the fires of the star, to be consumed there and eventually reborn as another part of the universe. “Light, then dark, then light,” he murmured the words. “The dark is just an interval.”

Desjani heard, turning a somber gaze his way. “The dark does not last,” she said, the proper response from the ritual. Then her voice changed. “Are we certain that the spider-wolves won’t desecrate any of our dead? It will be months before they reach the star.”

“Our emissaries and our experts are all positive that the spider-wolves understand how important we consider the safe journeys of our dead to be,” Geary answered. “Just as insurance, we provided the spider-wolves with full scans and biological information about our species. There’s nothing the spider-wolves could learn from those bodies that we haven’t already given them.”

“Have the spider-wolves given us all that stuff about them?”

“Not yet.”

“Politicians and civilians,” Desjani grumbled disdainfully.

“Coming up on jump point in five minutes,” Lieutenant Castries said.

Geary activated his comms. “All units, this is Admiral Geary. We are not expecting hostilities at the next star and must not act in a threatening manner inside space controlled by the spider-wolves. No evasive maneuver will be preplanned for execution upon exit from jump, and no weapons are to be powered up when we leave jump. However, all shields are to be at maximum and all personnel are to be prepared for anything. All units jump as scheduled.”

The moment of jump came, the stars vanishing and human bodies and minds twisting at the shift from somewhere to somewhere else.

There would be some time for rest in jump space, but not a great deal. While in jump space, the engineers on the auxiliaries could no longer travel to and perform work on other ships, but they could spend that time manufacturing new spare parts and replacement equipment, both of which were in very high demand, as well as new fuel cells and new missiles to replace those expended. The crews of the other ships would, in most cases, be busy with extra internal maintenance and repairs.

Geary sat looking at a display showing the outside view. The dull gray of jump space spread on all sides, an infinity of nothing. It was possible to go outside on a ship’s hull while in jump space. It was possible to do work on the exterior of a ship in jump space. But if anything, human or equipment, lost physical contact with the ship for even an instant, it was gone. It was still in jump space, but somewhere else. Just like the ships that made up this fleet, which were all in jump space together, all traveling from one jump point to the same new jump point, but which could not see or interact with each other except for some very simple and basic messages that could be exchanged.

The difference was that those ships all had the means to leave jump space when they reached their destination. Anyone who lost contact with a ship did not.

As a result of that, no work was done by humans on the outside of ships in jump space. In emergencies, robots might be employed, but with the expectation that those robots would very likely be lost forever.

Was that what the mysterious lights of jump space were? Frantic distress flares from someone or something eternally caught in nothing? Geary almost shivered at the thought. The common belief that those lights had some mystical significance was much more comforting and easier to live with.

Also comforting was the knowledge that no external threat could reach them in jump space. For now, he could truly focus on other issues for a while.

“I’m going to be down in my stateroom,” he told Desjani. “Do we have any of those VIP wraps left?”

“Not that I’ve discovered,” she replied.

“Maybe I’ll eat a meal with the crew and get a feel for morale.”

“Morale on my ship is fine, Admiral,” Desjani said. “I haven’t had to have anyone flogged to improve their morale for days now.”

“That’s good to hear, Captain.”

The walk to a dining compartment did feel almost relaxing, the crew obviously feeling as relieved as Geary to be going away from the bear-cows and toward home. He talked with some of the crew as he ate, asking about their home worlds. Most were from Kosatka, and some had been there during the brief but memorable few days he and Tanya had spent on that planet for what had passed as a honeymoon. “I didn’t buy one drink during those days,” one sailor told Geary. “I’d walk into a bar in uniform, and they’d see Dauntless on my ship badge, and that was all there was to it.”

“I got two marriage proposals,” another crew member said. “I told both of them I was okay with it but that my husband probably wouldn’t go along.”

As the laughter from that died down, the questions turned to other matters. Usually with an admiral within reach, sailors would ask about living conditions and food and time off and working conditions, but this time the questions were about bigger issues. The thousands of Marines who had been aboard the bear-cow superbattleship had spread their stories far and wide, so everyone knew a lot about the creatures. But that still left some serious concerns. “Are we going back there, Admiral, to where the Kicks live?”

Geary shook his head firmly. “No.” He could see the crew members around him relaxing immediately at his unambiguous reply. “Any human ship going there for the foreseeable future would have to be fully automated. I’m not going to risk another human life dealing with the bear-cows.”

“Why are we bringing that huge ship with us, sir?” another sailor asked. “It’s slowing us down, isn’t it?”

“A bit,” Geary admitted. “But it’s incredibly valuable. It’s a treasure trove of bear-cow technology. Maybe when we have time to analyze everything back in Alliance space, they won’t find anything amazing on it, just different ways of doing what we can already do. But maybe they’ll find things we never knew we could do.”

A veteran systems technician nodded. “Something really revolutionary that we never thought of. How do you measure how much that could be worth?”

“Exactly. And, if nothing there is beyond what we can already do, that at least tells us the limits of what the bear-cows can do.”

That earned him more nods, then one sailor proffered her data unit where a picture was displayed. “Admiral, is this really what the B—the things that helped us look like?”

It was a good representation of a spider-wolf, probably taken from one of the messages the spider-wolves had sent to the fleet as a whole when it had arrived at Honor. But although the sailor had shown the sense not to call them Bubs to Geary’s face, the term obviously was still in use. “Yes. That’s what they look like. Unattractive as sin, aren’t they?” Geary asked, trying to disarm the inevitable reactions. “That’s on the outside. On the inside, they seem to have a lot more in common with us than the bear-cows or the enigmas.”

“Some of them tried to help a pod off of Balestra,” another crewman noted.

“That makes them better than Syndics, too,” someone else remarked.

The laughter this time was a bit nervous. “The bottom line,” Geary said as convincingly as he could, “is that they did fight alongside us, and they did attempt to aid us in other ways. They’re letting us use their hypernet to get home a lot faster than we could otherwise. You judge someone by how they act, not by how they look.”

“Tell that to my chief at the next uniform inspection, Admiral!”

“Yeah, Admiral, can I quote you on that?”

Geary laughed, standing up and waving away the eager, joking requests. “I’m only an admiral. I can lead chiefs, but I can’t push them around. Besides, according to Captain Desjani, you’re the best sailors in the fleet. Why would I need to ask for special treatment for you?”

He left the dining compartment feeling better, but the sailors’ questions had brought to life some of his own concerns. Once Geary reached his stateroom, he put in a call to another officer aboard Dauntless, asking him to drop by as soon as possible.

“Admiral.” General Charban, at least, was enjoying some rest. With the ships isolated in jump space, he was no longer being called upon to try to communicate with the spider-wolves on a constant basis. “You wanted to see me?” he asked as he entered Geary’s stateroom.

“Yes.” Geary waved Charban to a seat. “I was afraid you’d already passed out for a while.”

“After all those days I had to stay awake to deal with negotiations, my metabolism will take a few more hours to slow down again to the point where I can sleep,” Charban said as he sat. “I could slam it down with some different meds, but I prefer to let my body handle getting back to normal a little more naturally.”

“A wise move,” Geary said. “I wanted a candid appraisal from you, without any pressure from anyone else being present. You’ve had as much contact with the spider-wolves as anyone has so far.”

“Emissary Rione is actually the only one to have had ‘contact,’” Charban pointed out. “Though that distinction didn’t seem to mean much to the fleet medical personnel who inflicted such a wide array of tests and examinations on both of us. In preparation for that meeting with the spider-wolves, I had read a number of accounts of supposed encounters with alien species in the far past. Those old stories often claimed the aliens used probes and other uncomfortable forms of physical inspection. In fact, the spider-wolves were very courteous. It was our own doctors who probed away with considerable enthusiasm.”

“I’m sorry about that.” Geary sat down opposite Charban. “General, I want to know any impressions you have of the spider-wolves that have not appeared in formal reporting.”

“Impressions, Admiral? As to what? I can speak for hours about different matters, but it would help if I knew exactly what you’re interested in.”

“Can we trust them?” Geary saw Charban taken aback by the question. “Yes, they fought alongside us against the bear-cows. But what about now? Jump space is not a big trust issue. We know where we’re going. I don’t have a gut feeling that we need fear any kind of trap or ambush from the spider-wolves there. But we’ll be entering their hypernet, dependent on them as to where we come out.”

“I see.” Charban gave Geary a wry look. “Admiral, have you ever met the sorts of people who strike you as dangerous because they’re unpredictable? You know the kind. It’s not just that they’re capable of doing things but that they might strike out at any time at anyone. Or they might do something totally unexpected.”

He nodded, an image of Jane Geary flashing into his mind, followed by that of Commander Benan. But he wouldn’t say either name aloud.

“But,” Charban continued, “there are other sorts of people, like General Carabali, who are dangerous because of their capabilities, but in a very targeted way. General Carabali will only strike after carefully considering options and deciding this target must be hit in this way.”

“Sure,” Geary agreed. “I’ve met both types.”

“The spider-wolves strike me as being fundamentally of that second nature. They can be very deadly, but they always calculate their strikes. They always act to support their goals, and those goals and plans are well thought out. This pattern thing that the civilian experts came up with, for example. Just thinking in terms of that, in terms of how one action will impact not only those things around it but also anything that might somehow be tied to it, requires acting in a well-planned way. You or I might act in that fashion because we believe it is smart. The spider-wolves, I am convinced, act that way because they feel they must.”

Geary sat thinking about that for a while, Charban waiting patiently. “That’s scary, isn’t it?” Geary finally said. “An intelligent species that feels an obligation to think out its actions, to consider consequences. That makes them smarter than us.”

“Smarter? Perhaps. It depends on how you define ‘smarts.’” Charban shook his head. “Do they take chances? I don’t think so. Not as we would define it. What about leaps of faith? Unlikely, I am guessing. Spontaneous moves? Sudden inspirations driving immediate actions? No. I don’t think so. It’s all planned out carefully, thought out carefully.”

“Engineers,” Geary said. “Really good engineers. They do the planning before they act. They don’t build something they don’t expect to work. We could probably outreact them.”

“Or at least confuse them.” Charban hunched forward, his eyes on Geary’s. “But here’s what I think is the most important part of my assessment. Admiral, would a race that always plans ahead, that doesn’t like to deal with unanticipated or uncontrollable events or consequences, a race that wants to be sure of what will happen, would such a species ever begin a war by choice?”

That one was easy. “No.”

“No,” Charban repeated. “War is chaos. War is unpredictable. I heard a story once about an ancient king who asked an infallible oracle about what would happen if he invaded a neighboring kingdom, and the oracle answered that if he did that, a mighty kingdom would fall. Assuming that guaranteed victory, he invaded, only to be utterly crushed, his own kingdom destroyed. He hadn’t considered the possibility that the oracle’s answer meant that his kingdom would be the one to fall.”

“Unforeseen circumstances,” Geary said.

“Right. If humans were a rational species, we would take heed of such examples from our history, and no one would start a war. But some humans always convince themselves that ‘this time’ it will be different and that they can confidently predict the outcome. Why did the Syndic Executive Council start the war with the Alliance a century ago when they should have realized that even with enigma help they couldn’t have won? Even then it should have been obvious that a bloody stalemate was inevitable. But we humans find ways to fool ourselves. I don’t believe that the spider-wolves think like that. On the contrary, their bias to avoid the unpredictable might prevent them from ever being aggressive against their neighbors.”

Geary nodded. “But self-defense is another matter. Failure to have sufficient defenses would produce an outcome they don’t want, or introduce uncertainty into whether or not someone would attack.”

“Yes. Which is all a very convoluted way of answering your initial question. Yes, I believe we can trust the spider-wolves. I am certain that they don’t want to start a war with us. If we started a war with them, they would fight back with all of the cleverness and skill they possess. But they won’t begin a war with us. They don’t know what that would do to the pattern.”

It all fit together. “Self-interest.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Self-interest,” Geary explained. “How is every nonhuman intelligent species acting? In what they believe to be their own self-interest. The enigmas are convinced that hiding anything about themselves is vitally important, so they’ll do anything to keep us from learning anything. The bear-cows think we want to eat them, so they’ll do anything to stop us from doing that. And the spider-wolves think we can help anchor their pattern if we work together, or seriously disrupt it if we fought. The one thing they all have in common is the pursuit of what they have decided is their own self-interest.”

General Charban sat back, considering that. “Humans, too. Why are we here? Because we considered it important to know whether the enigmas could be dealt with short of war and to learn how powerful they were. It was in our self-interest to risk this fleet on such a mission.”

“The self-interest of humanity as a whole, you mean,” Geary said, hearing the acid in his tone.

“Just so,” Charban agreed. “This mission isn’t the sort of thing that promotes the self-interests of the humans in the crews. Perhaps we’re not so different in that respect from the enigmas or the bear-cows. Humanity is just as willing to sacrifice some of its own number in the name of the greater good. I’m going to pass your idea on to our civilian experts if that’s all right with you. It might offer a place, a concept, where we can make emotional contact with even the most alien of species.”

“Good.” Geary held out a restraining hand as Charban began to rise. “About the civilian experts…”

“I think we can trust them, Admiral,” Charban joked, then noticed Geary’s reaction. “Are you concerned about that?”

“I don’t know. I’ve been picking up some different impressions from them lately. Those I contact regularly I mean. I rarely deal directly with any of them but Dr. Setin and Dr. Shwartz now.”

“I see.” Charban relaxed in his seat again. “I’ve been working with all of them. You know there have always been three factions among our civilian experts? One small faction was convinced before we met a single alien intelligence that it would be a fight to the death between our species. Remarkably, that faction sees everything we’ve learned as supporting that argument. Another small faction started out believing that the universe would greet us with open arms of peace and friendship. They also remain unshaken in their position, blaming any contact problems on our own blunders.”

“The blunders of the military, you mean,” Geary said dryly.

“Of course. Then there’s the biggest faction, who to varying degrees like to wait to see the evidence before they decide what the evidence means. I’ve been frankly surprised to see so many of that sort with us, but that is due, I think, to the efforts of Dr. Setin in influencing who accompanied us.” Charban fell silent for a moment. “That group was badly shaken by the enigmas and the bear-cows. The evidence seemed to support the crowd that claimed the universe hates us. The discovery and interaction with the spider-wolves has been incredibly important in restoring their faith in the universe and in this mission.”

“You believe everything is all right there, then? There’s nothing I need to worry about?”

“I didn’t say that, Admiral.” Charban’s smile held no humor. “Soon after we return to Alliance space, academic and popular journals will be full of articles penned by our experts in which they will describe how very badly the military and some of the other civilian experts handled just about everything, and how only the presence of the authors of said articles prevented total and complete disaster.”

“I see that academia hasn’t changed in the last century,” Geary said.

“No. Of course not.” Charban thought, his eyes on the star display. “Dr. Setin has been one of your strongest supports among the civilians experts. But he was badly shaken by the slaughter aboard that bear-cow superbattleship. I think he understands that you had no choice but to order such an action, and that we did all we could to get the bear-cow crew to surrender rather than fight to the death, but, emotionally, he has had great difficulty with those events. Still, he’s a good man with a good mind. I believe he will come around.”

“And Dr. Shwartz?”

“You have no firmer ally among them, Admiral. You have given her not one, not two, but three intelligent nonhuman species to study. The circumstances involving some of those meetings haven’t been what we wished, but Dr. Shwartz is that rare sort of academic who realizes the difference between the universe in which theories live and the universe as it really exists.”

“Thank you, General,” Geary said. “Please go now and let your metabolism wind down so you can rest.”

The next three and a half days in jump space were quiet. Geary noticed that Desjani kept her crew working but also allowed an unusually large amount of downtime, so everyone could take a break. He did his own best to relax despite gnawing worries about how close the enigmas were to Midway and whether or not the spider-wolves might yet decide that humans were too unpredictable to make worthwhile friends or allies.

Geary was back on the bridge of Dauntless when the fleet popped out of jump into a star system that humans would have considered prime. Twelve planets orbiting a star whose nuclear furnace appeared as stable as stars got, one of those planets orbiting just under eight light-minutes from the star in the perfect zone for life as humans knew it, while two more planets swung around each other and the star at nine light-minutes out. Those planets were a bit cool and must have some impressive tidal effects, but were otherwise not bad at all. Off to one side and two light-hours away, what could only be a hypernet gate loomed.

“Nice,” Desjani approved, her eyes still searching for threats. The star system was filled with spider-wolf ships, all of which appeared to use the same beautifully streamlined shape but the vast majority of which were on paths indicating they were taking merchant ship–type tracks between planets.

Aside from the six spider-wolf warships accompanying the human fleet, only two other spider-wolf ships were at the jump point.

Geary shook his head. “We know they sent some ships ahead to tell them that we were coming, but still I expected some stronger force to be on guard here, even if disguised as an honor guard of some sort. Can you imagine letting a fleet of alien warships just waltz through your territory?”

“Don’t forget those stealthy megamines the spider-wolves had at Honor,” Desjani pointed out. “They might have stuff hidden around here that would make us really unhappy really fast if we did the wrong thing.”

“Your warning is noted and appreciated,” Geary replied. She was right. Just because he couldn’t see spider-wolf precautions didn’t mean there weren’t any. “Emissary Rione, General Charban, please contact our friends the spider-wolves and find out if we’re just supposed to transit directly to the hypernet gate.”

Virtual windows were appearing around Geary. Dr. Setin, Lieutenant Iger, Captain Smythe… all begging for an extended opportunity to examine everything that could be learned in this spider-wolf-occupied star system. Geary cut them all off, grateful again for the fleet commander override, then answered everyone at once. “We are contacting the spider-wolves to ask them what path we should follow through this star system. We will have to abide by their wishes. Every sensor in this fleet, every means of collection, is sucking up every bit of data it possibly can, and we will continue to vacuum up information as long as we are in this star system. That’s all I can promise.”

Desjani pointed to her display. “Our escorts are heading for the gate. Do we follow?”

“Yes.” It might take the emissaries a while to reestablish contact, so he had best stick to the safest course until then. Geary brought the fleet around in the wake of the six spider-wolf ships, grateful to see how smoothly even the four battleships linked to the captured bear-cow ship carried out the maneuver.

“They’re watching us, too, you know,” Desjani commented, as the fleet steadied out on a vector following the spider-wolf escort.

“I know.” He was watching the two spider-wolf ships that had met them here. Without warning, both of those ships accelerated into the human formation, gliding and weaving between human ships with the grace and ease of dolphins racing through an underwater obstacle course.

“They’re heading for the LCCO,” Desjani said, her voice tense.

“The LCCO?”

“Large Clumsy Captured Object.”

“The Kick superbattleship,” Geary realized. He hit his comm controls. “All units, this is Admiral Geary, do not interfere with or engage any spider-wolf ships. No weapons use is authorized except by my direct order. Do not lock fire control systems on any spider-wolf craft.”

The two spider-wolf ships slowed, coming almost to a stop relative to the superbattleship and the four Alliance battleships towing it, even though all of those ships were traveling through space at point one light speed. Moving with almost dainty precision, the spider-wolf ships split up, coursing along close above the hull of the former Kick ship in a long and careful examination that was still under way when Rione called Geary.

“The spider-wolves want permission to send someone aboard the captured bear-cow ship.”