Steadfast

Fourteen

“But what does ‘now’ mean to them?” Geary asked, hoping for some ambiguity in the answer.

“It means right now, this moment, this time, go,” Charban amplified when his answer came back a few minutes later. “That’s exactly what the Dancers communicated to me when I asked that question. I also asked what would happen if we couldn’t go now, and they said we go. It’s pretty much an ultimatum. We escort them home, or they start off on their own.”

“They must be bluffing! Jumping back all that way would take forever.”

“They could be bluffing,” Charban admitted. “I’d never gamble with a Dancer because I can’t read their emotions at the best of times. But we can’t rule out the possibility that the Dancers have tricks we don’t know about when it comes to jump drives,” Charban said. “As well as the possibility that they may be able to endure much longer periods in jump space than humans can. They somehow got to Durnan a long time ago.”

And if the Dancers headed home on their own, leaving the entire Alliance with no idea of whether or not they had made it through Syndic space in one piece, there would be hell to pay. “I need twelve more hours to get a task force together,” Geary insisted. “That’s the absolute minimum time. I need a strong enough force to protect them, and a strong enough force to defend itself against any threats we might encounter. Tell them that. Twelve hours. Have they said anything about our offers to send a ship all the way back with them, with representatives?”

When the reply came, Charban was rubbing his head with both hands as if trying to drive away a headache. “Their answer is not yet. They’re not saying no, they’re not saying yes. The Dancers are saying not yet.”

What did “not yet” mean to a Dancer? With humans, it could mean a delay of minutes, hours, days, or years. And yet the Dancers hadn’t had any trouble conveying exactly what they meant by “now.” “The government won’t like hearing that, but I don’t know what we’re supposed to do to change the Dancers’ minds. That ship carrying the official alien liaison team won’t be here for close to two more weeks at best anyway. What about individual representatives?”

“I have suggested myself, I have suggested Dr. Shwartz, I have asked if there is anyone they would be willing to accept.” Charban smiled. “Not yet.”

“What about the unraveling thing? Is that related to their sudden desire to leave now?”

“They won’t say.”

Geary felt a headache of his own coming on. “General, I have to admit if it was me dealing with the Dancers I would be having a very hard time not getting really, really upset with them. I know they think differently than us, but I believe that you are right that they are also deliberately not telling us some things.”

Charban nodded and sighed. “Yet I am certain that they mean us well. Maybe they are treating us in the same way they would treat others of their own species. I don’t know. I can’t get angry about anything with them because that might shut off my ability to learn more. I have learned that the only way to maintain my sanity when dealing with the Dancers is to take a very contemplative approach, meditating at appropriate times and frequently telling myself not to keep carrying the old woman.”

Geary eyed Charban’s image. “The old woman?”

“Haven’t you ever heard that story? It’s a very old one.” Charban paused to think. “There are two men walking through a town where the streets are muddy. They come to a place where an old woman who has been shopping is trying to leave her vehicle and reach the sidewalk. But all of her helpers have their hands full of her packages, and if they put the packages down to help her avoid the mud, they will get the packages muddy. All they can do is stand there while the old woman screams at them. One of the two travelers walks up to the old woman and gives her assistance to reach the sidewalk. She doesn’t thank him but just stomps off, followed by her helpers, as the two travelers go on their way. The other traveler spends the rest of the afternoon wondering why his friend helped that mean person, and finally, as they stop for the night, he asks, Why did you help that unpleasant person? His companion looks at him in surprise, and says, I put that woman down this morning. Why are you still carrying her?

“I have to be like that with the Dancers. I have to not carry anything that frustrates or angers me but approach every communication without that kind of baggage.”

Geary laughed despite his worries. “You’re a better man than I am, General. Put together a detailed report of your conversations with the Dancers since you returned to Varandal. I need to have that left here and sent on to the government and fleet headquarters after we depart, so no one accuses me of kidnapping the Dancers. Tell them twelve hours. Get more time if you can. But I need twelve hours.”

“Understood, Admiral.”

Geary rapped his head with one fist out of frustration, then checked the status of frantic efforts to prepare ships for the unexpected mission. He called Captain Smythe on the auxiliary Tanuki. “What are the chances of Inspire being ready to go in twelve hours?”

“Can’t be done,” Smythe said. “We couldn’t even close up all our work in that time frame, let alone finish the repairs.”

“That leaves me with only thirteen battle cruisers.”

“Twelve,” Smythe corrected. “I’ve gone over the status of Intemperate with Admiral Timbale, and we can’t get her ready, either. Half her systems are torn out and being replaced. Since we gave priority to getting the other battle cruisers in shape, and you didn’t bang up Implacable and Formidable too badly on your last jaunt, the other twelve should hold up. But watch Adroit. Her systems were all ‘smart-evolved,’ which is the latest bureaucratic speak for cutting corners to save money. They’re almost new, but I don’t trust them.”

“How’s the money situation look?”

“Oh, that’s fine. This is an emergency. You get to spend and let higher authority figure out how to pay for it later. One other thing, Admiral. I know you’re just planning on taking light cruisers and destroyers and escorts, but from a purely logistical point of view, it would be good to have some heavy cruisers along. They’ve got the acceleration to keep up with the battle cruisers, much better endurance than the lighter ships, and they can stuff in enough extra fuel cells to help resupply the destroyers when they start to run low.”

“Thanks. That’s good advice. Let me know if any other problems develop. Have we ever given Lieutenant Jamenson a look at the Dancer communications?”

“Why would we do that?” Smythe asked, looking unusually surprised.

“Because General Charban suspects the Dancers are avoiding telling us things and sort of, well, dancing around the questions we ask.”

“They’re trying to confuse us?” Smythe’s expression shifted to intrigued. “That is right up Jamenson’s alley.”

Geary could almost see the wheels turning in Smythe’s head. Jamenson’s ability to produce accurate and complete reports that were also nearly impossible to understand was invaluable to Smythe, as was her ability to spot the truth in documents that others had tried to write in a confusing manner. But having an in on communicating with the Dancers or other aliens would boost Lieutenant Jamenson’s value immensely. Even if she didn’t continue working for Smythe, she would surely be open to requests for favors that could be extremely important and perhaps extremely profitable as well.

“Would you like to borrow Lieutenant Jamenson for this mission?” Smythe asked in a completely guileless manner. “Since it is so very important.”

Geary pretended reluctance. “But her work with you is also very important.”

“A few weeks won’t make a big difference, and this is important to all humanity!”

“I didn’t know you were such a humanitarian,” Geary said, thinking once more of the Syndic definition of the term.

“I’ve been known to surprise people,” Smythe said with a disconcerting smile.

“But not me, Captain,” Geary said. “No surprises for me.”

“Of course not, Admiral!”

Jane Geary didn’t argue with his rationale for leaving the battleships behind, with her once more in temporary command of the fleet. “But be careful. Syndic space is a snake pit.”

“You don’t have to remind me of that,” Geary replied.

“I know you’re unlikely to encounter any more POW camps since you’re going through only a few Syndic star systems, but keep an eye out for Michael. Good luck, Great-uncle.”

Geary ended the call, gazing morosely at his display. Twelve battle cruisers. Two divisions of heavy cruisers. Three squadrons of light cruisers. Four squadrons of destroyers. “It doesn’t feel like enough.”

Desjani snorted. “It isn’t. But taking more wouldn’t help. At least this time we’ve got Steadfast with us.”

“Steadfast?” Geary knew he looked puzzled. “Is there some particular significance to Steadfast?”

“Of course there is! Steadfast represents the spirit of the fleet. There always has to be a Steadfast. That’s why we got a replacement for the last Steadfast so quickly when she was lost at Heradao.”

Geary remembered that, the new Steadfast showing up as quickly as the new Invincible, but he had been wrapped up in so many other issues, he hadn’t taken special note of it. “When did that start? The idea that Steadfast represents the spirit of the fleet?”

“Hasn’t it always been that way?” Desjani asked, startled.

“No.” There must have been a battle, sometime in the last century, in which an earlier Steadfast had performed so well, fought so hard, perhaps sacrificed herself, that the name had taken on a special significance. There had been a Steadfast a century ago, Geary recalled. It might have been that very ship, helping to hold off the first Syndic attacks and gaining a singular status for her name in the process. “Why weren’t you particularly upset at the loss of the prior Steadfast?”

“Because Steadfast always comes back,” Desjani explained. “Not in a bad way, like Invincible always shows up again, but in a good way.”

“I’ve still got a lot to learn about things today,” Geary said. “Let’s get going.” He tapped the comm controls. “All units in Task Force Dancer, this is Admiral Geary. Immediate execute, proceed to stations in Formation Delta, form on guide ship Dauntless.”

Geary nodded to Desjani. “Head for the jump point for Atalia, Captain.”

“Yes, Admiral.” Under Desjani’s helm orders, Dauntless swung about and began accelerating slowly, giving the other warships plenty of time to take station around her. They came gliding in from all angles, forming into three boxes, which were arranged in a staggered V shape. Leading them was the box centered on Dauntless and also holding the rest of her division, Daring, Victorious, and Adroit which was taking the place of Intemperate. Joining them were one squadron of light cruisers and two squadrons of destroyers.

Off to port, behind and slightly above, Captain Tulev’s Leviathan took up station in her box, surrounded by Dragon, Steadfast, and Valiant. Around them, a division of heavy cruisers and one squadron each of light cruisers and destroyers formed up.

To starboard, also behind but slightly below, Captain Badaya’s Illustrious moved into position, along with Incredible as well as Formidable and Implacable, which had been temporarily assigned to Badaya’s division. They also got a division of heavy cruisers, a squadron of light cruisers, and one of destroyers.

“Looking good,” Geary approved.

“Duellos is going to give you hell when he gets back and finds out he missed this,” Desjani cautioned.

“If I’d hauled him along to the limits of human space again, his wife might have told him to stay out there instead of coming back.” Geary waited until the last ship was on station, the three boxes aimed like an arrowhead for the jump exit, then gave new orders. “All units in Task Force Dancer, immediate execute, accelerate to point one light speed.”

General Charban had transferred back over from Diamond, along with his communications gear. He was not on the bridge of Dauntless, instead occupying the compartment set up for communicating with the Dancers, and he now called Geary. “The Dancers have indicated they understand that we are leaving and that they should close on you so you can all jump together.”

“How are you and Lieutenant Jamenson getting along?” Geary asked, hoping that the Dancers would indeed do as they were asked.

“She’s the finest green-haired officer I ever served with,” Charban said, then grinned. “And I’ve actually served with two others. It’s not hard to spot people from Eire Star System. Once we enter jump, she’s indicated a desire to spend some time with the intelligence cell aboard the ship, if that’s all right with you.”

“As long as she’s getting enough exposure to Dancer communications,” Geary said.

The conversation reminded him of another call he needed to make. “Lieutenant Iger, if we get any updates on the situation in Atalia or Syndic space before we jump, I need to know as soon as possible.”

The intelligence officer nodded quickly. “Yes, sir. As of now, my latest from Atalia is that report from the last courier-ship rotation. Atalia is pretty much unchanged.”

“Let’s hope it stays that way,” Geary said. “Lieutenant Jamenson may visit the intel compartment while we’re in jump. I assume you’ll have no problems with that.”

“Lieutenant Jamenson, sir? No, sir! No problem!”

When he ended that call, Desjani was grinning. “Let’s hope Lieutenant Iger doesn’t get too distracted by Lieutenant Jamenson.”

Geary took a discreet glance to the back of the bridge. “Speaking of lieutenants and personal relationships, how are our quarantine cases doing?” he asked in a low voice.

Desjani gave him a sidelong look. “Lieutenant Castries and Lieutenant Yuon are professionals. They are carrying out their duties without regard to any personal emotions created by past developments.”

“Really?”

“Really. Of course, I also told them each separately that if there was any drama on the bridge, I would crack heads so hard they’d both end up back in sick bay. But I think they’re doing all right now that it’s over. Say, mind if I borrow that green-haired lieutenant while we’re in jump? I’d like her to take a look at the books in Master Chief Gioninni’s division.”

“I want her to be able to get some sleep,” Geary said.

“Sleep? This is the fleet. Sleep is for wimps, right?” Desjani loudly asked of the bridge.

“Yes, Captain!” the watch-standers chorused back at her.

“Sometimes,” Geary said, “I can’t tell whether or not you’re joking.”

She lowered her voice to a whisper as she leaned toward him. “Sometimes,” Desjani said with a grin, “neither can they.”

Jump space was never a particularly restful place. You could get physical rest, but mental relaxation grew harder with every day in a place so strange that humans had no right to be there. As the old saying went, the longer a ship stayed in jump space, the jumpier the crew got. For Geary, the worst part was usually the itchiness, a day-by-day growing sense that his skin no longer fit properly.

But this time it felt worse in some small and indefinable ways. One thing he could identify was odder-than-usual dreams because the same one repeated during the days en route Atalia.

He dreamed he was indeed out in jump space, alone, surrounded by the gray nothingness that filled whatever jump space really was. Panic began to set in, but before it could overwhelm him, the lights emerged.

No one knew what the lights that appeared randomly in jump space were. Scientific theories abounded, all lacking in evidence or any form of proof. Metaphysical theories were fewer, simpler, and equally impossible to prove or disprove. The vast majority of sailors believed that the lights were linked to their ancestors and to the living stars. Beyond that, exactly what the lights meant or signified was just as mysterious to believers as it was to nonbelievers.

When Geary had been awakened from his century in survival sleep, he had been told that many believed he had been among the lights all of those decades, communing with the ancestors. He would have liked to categorically deny that, but couldn’t since he had no memories from his time frozen in space.

Now, in these dreams, as he drifted alone in jump space and fought against panic, he saw the lights appear. But they didn’t come alone. They appeared in clusters, they flashed off and on, they seemed to be almost forming a picture. A pattern. And then… he awoke, to stare at the darkened overhead in his stateroom with the feeling that something very important had been almost within his reach but had vanished in an instant, leaving nothing behind but memories of a dream he couldn’t understand at all.

Geary greeted their arrival at Atalia with more relief at leaving jump space than usual. As Lieutenant Iger had said, very little had changed here. Atalia, like Batara, had been a front-line star system fought over during the war. It had been among the first star systems to rebel against the Syndics and had quickly requested Alliance protection.

However, an Alliance reluctant to fund protection for even its own territory in the wake of the war had no interest in taking on responsibility for a battered star system that had recently been enemy territory. The Alliance’s sole commitment to the protection of Atalia was a single courier ship hanging near the jump point for Varandal. If Atalia was attacked, the Alliance would know it.

But the Alliance hadn’t actually promised to do anything with that knowledge.

“We’re just passing through,” Geary told the crew of the courier ship. “We’ll be back soon.”

He sent a similar message to the government of Atalia, which technically had to approve the Alliance task force’s transit of its star system. In practice, Atalia wouldn’t do anything to offend the Alliance and actually welcomed any presence by Alliance warships as a deterrent to attempts by the Syndic government to regain control of the star system.

From Atalia they had to jump through Kalixa, which had once had its own hypernet gate. But the enigmas had caused that gate to collapse, wiping out the human presence at Kalixa and rendering the once-habitable main world a lifeless wreck, hoping that the Syndics would blame the Alliance for the atrocity and begin making the gates in Alliance star systems collapse. The plan had almost worked.

Geary took the task force through Kalixa as quickly as possible. The Dancer ships stayed close to the Alliance ships, not following their usual practice of zooming off to whirl around each other in the graceful movements that among humans had earned the aliens the nickname Dancers. Geary wondered if the ruined star system of Kalixa marked some sort of mar in the patterns the Dancers valued, something that unsettled them, but Charban’s attempts to ask the Dancers about that produced no replies understandable to the humans.

From Kalixa, they finally jumped into a star system still controlled (when last heard) by the Syndics. Indras was fairly well-off, fairly wealthy as star systems went, far enough from Alliance space to have taken relatively little damage during the war, and possessed the working Syndic hypernet gate that Geary needed.

The few, minor Syndic warships present avoided getting anywhere near Geary’s ships as they thundered through the star system on the fastest route to the hypernet gate. The two Syndic light cruisers and five HuKs, some still bearing scars of combat not so long ago, showed no interest in confronting the Alliance Task Force in any way. But the senior CEO in the star system was not so circumspect.

“We must protest this violation of Syndicate Worlds space by an armed expedition of the Alliance,” CEO Yamada declared. Yamada, with his impeccably tailored suit, perfectly coifed hair, and well-practiced expressions designed to conceal any real emotions, looked like almost every other CEO that Geary had encountered. Judging by his girth and other signs of rich living, Yamada had also not personally suffered much during the war. “You are to cease aggressive actions against the Syndicate Worlds and vacate Syndicate space immediately. Forthepeople, Yamada, out.”

“Yeah, he’s for the people,” Desjani commented sarcastically. “Are you going to bother answering?”

“Just with the standard legalities. But not yet. And apparently there are some intelligence reports I need to know about.”

“About Indras? Why didn’t they brief you before we got here?

“Ask the people who make up the rules the intelligence community has to follow. They’re probably the only ones who understand whatever logic is involved.”

A few hours later, Lieutenant Iger briefed Geary in his stateroom. “Thank you for taking the time for this, Admiral.” He brought up some images of individuals, star systems, and businesses, all connected by various colored strands. “This is the best picture we have at this time of Syndic covert operations in this region against the Alliance and their own rebellious star systems.”

The point of Iger’s presentation wasn’t hard to grasp. “It looks like Indras is at the center of a lot of that.”

“Yes, sir. We can’t tie CEO Yamada specifically to what is going on. He may not personally even know about some of the things being done by the central government, but it’s likely he knows about some of it. A lot of covert activity is being coordinated through Indras.”

Geary hunched forward a bit, resting his elbows on the table and gazing at the interrelationships and activities being shown. “Is there anything I can do about this? Is there anything I’m supposed to be doing about it?”

“No, sir,” Iger said with a regretful shake of his head. “This briefing is for informational purposes only. We are at peace with the Syndics. Alliance military forces can’t just launch open attacks on the basis of evidence like this which can’t even be shown to the average person. As for other alternatives, we don’t have the sort of proof that could be presented in any court, and there aren’t any courts that would handle this sort of thing between the Syndics and the Alliance anyway.”

“Is anybody else doing anything?”

Iger hesitated, then spoke slowly. “Admiral, I can’t say.”

“As in you don’t know, or you do, and I’m somehow not cleared for it?” Geary tried to keep from sounding angry and accusing. It wouldn’t be Iger’s fault if the matter was out of his hands, so Iger shouldn’t be personally held to account.

“I don’t honestly know anything, sir,” Lieutenant Iger protested. “I’ve heard rumors that counteroperations are under way, but nothing specific and nothing official.”

“Counteroperations? Aimed at what’s going on here?”

“Vague rumors, sir. That’s all I have.”

“I hope that’s all they are,” Geary said. “Because it would look very suspicious to everyone if something blew up in this star system while we were here or soon after we left.” He wanted to add that surely no one would plot covert actions that, by their timing and placement, would imply Geary’s ships were involved, at the very least not without warning him, but recent experience with the government’s mania for secrecy left him with no confidence on that count. “Let me know if anything else comes in that relates to this.”

Geary waited almost another day, until the Alliance warships and the Dancer ships were almost to the hypernet gate, before he called up the Syndic CEO’s message again and tapped the reply command. “CEO Yamada, this is Admiral Geary. We are permitted by the terms of the peace agreement with the Syndicate Worlds to transit Syndicate space to and from the Midway Star System, and to make use of the Syndicate Worlds’ hypernet system when we do so. We will continue to operate in accordance with our rights under the peace agreement. To the honor of our ancestors, Geary, out.”

“They probably already knew we were going to Midway,” Desjani said.

“The longer we could keep them guessing, the better. Let’s get out of Indras before the Dancers decide to go sightseeing.” Or something blows up, he added to himself.

To his relief, the stolen hypernet key dialed up Midway without any problems, and a moment later they were safe inside the nowhere of the hypernet.

The hypernet allowed Geary’s ships to cover the distance to Midway in a few weeks, a voyage that would have required several months if conducted by jumping from star to star. Oddly enough, even though the other discomforts of jump space weren’t present, Geary had the same dream a couple of more times, ending in the same frustrating fashion. Whether it was his subconscious or something else trying to send him a message, the meaning of it wasn’t coming through.

As the Alliance ships left the hypernet, the stars reappeared around them, and displays began updating with the newest information. “It sounds like they’ve been busy around here,” Lieutenant Iger reported. “Lots of comm traffic, official and unofficial.”

“Anything bad?” Geary asked. “There’s a battle cruiser here. Whose is it?”

“We’re trying to ID it, Admiral. Wait. We’re picking up references to Pele.”

“That’s the next star system toward the enigmas,” Geary said with more patience than he felt.

“No, sir. I mean, yes, sir,” the intelligence officer corrected hastily. “This Pele is a ship. It looks like it correlates to that battle cruiser.”

“The Syndics don’t name their ships,” Desjani said.

“No, but the Midway people do,” Geary said. “To emphasize that they’re not Syndics anymore. Where did they get a battle cruiser?”

“No idea, Admiral,” Iger said. “It sounds like there are civil disturbances on the primary inhabited world. Rioting. The government is trying to deal with it.”

“How are they dealing with it?” Geary asked, his voice flat. There were Syndic ways of handling riots and rioters, and the rulers here had been Syndics not long ago.

“I can’t determine that yet, sir.”

“Hey!” Desjani’s startled exclamation drew Geary’s attention. “The Dancers just took off!”

Took off was putting it mildly. The alien ships had dashed away from the Alliance formation at the strongest acceleration they could manage, a rate of increase in velocity that even the Alliance battle cruisers couldn’t match. “They’re heading for the jump point for Pele. General Charban!”

“Here, Admiral,” Charban replied from the compartment where he and Lieutenant Jamenson were once again seated at their comm gear. “I just received a message from the Dancers. Watch the many stars.”

“The many stars? What does that—? Sorry.” For once, Geary avoided asking a question that he already knew Charban had no answer to. He stopped to think as he watched the Dancers tear away. “I guess they’re going home as fast as possible.”

“I concur,” Charban said. “I’ll try to get more out of them before they leave.”

“Thanks. If—”

“We just got another message from the Dancers,” Charban interrupted, looking startled. “It says until next time, see you later, good-bye for now.”

Tanya raised both eyebrows. “They’re not taking any chances that we won’t understand that.”

“No, they’re not,” Charban agreed. “They want us to know that they will be back.”

“Do they expect us to wait here?” Geary demanded, exasperated.

“I don’t—” Charban began, then paused again. “Another message. You go your home. See you there. Admiral, I don’t know why the Dancers have suddenly shifted from vague ambiguities to clear meaning, but I have no doubt that they mean exactly what these messages say. They are not mistakenly saying something we might misinterpret. They want us to go home, and they want us to know they will come back and meet us there.”

“How are they planning on getting back through Syndic space?” Desjani wondered.

“How did they get to Durnan in the first place to plant that colony long ago?” Charban asked.

Geary made a helpless gesture. “We’ll have to take the Dancers at their word. There’s nothing in this star system that can catch them or hurt them before they reach that jump point.”

“Something might come out of the jump point,” Desjani suggested.

“Yeah. That’s true. We’ll hang around the hypernet gate until the Dancers jump and we know they’re out of human space, then we’ll head home.” The Dancers themselves obviously didn’t feel that the Alliance had any further obligations to escort and protect them, but Geary still felt a sense of responsibility toward them. He wouldn’t feel comfortable leaving Midway until the Dancers had.

As the hours went by, the Dancers racing toward the jump point for Pele while the Alliance warships orbited near the hypernet gate, Lieutenant Iger’s people were able to build up a picture of events at Midway that was only slightly reassuring. “They haven’t started shooting at the protesters yet, and I haven’t detected any orders for the local warships to move into position for precision bombardments. A lot of the ground forces seem to be missing, and there are references to General Drakon’s being gone from the star system.”

“Do you have any idea where he is?” Geary asked, remembering the stolid general who had seemed glad to shed the trappings of a Syndic CEO.

“There are a couple of mentions of Ulindi, a nearby star system.”

It was odd how someone having a dozen battle cruisers at his beck and call could feel powerless, Geary thought as he watched the Dancers dart away too fast to be caught up with and viewed images of events in Midway Star System that were hours old by the time he saw them. “At the rate the Dancers are going,” Desjani said, “their total transit time to the jump point for Pele will be less than twenty hours. They’re moving faster than sailors heading for the liberty shuttle.”

“Is their return that urgent?” Geary asked. “Or are they hurrying because they know we can’t leave until we know they have?”

“Or are they just sick and tired of us ugly humans?” Desjani added.

“I’m going to get some sleep,” Geary said as he realized that he had been on the bridge for more then seven hours straight. “There’s nothing anywhere near us and nothing I can do. When something does happen, I want my mind to be a little rested. If I’m not back in six hours, give me a call.”

He made a futile effort to sleep, staring up at the overhead from his bed, before eventually calling up some paperwork. But this time not even routine paperwork on the most soul-deadening of topics could make him drowsy.

Geary returned to Dauntless’s bridge, noting that it had been thirteen hours since arrival in this star system. “Anything new?”

“How did you know?” Desjani asked. “We just got a message from that woman who calls herself president. I was reaching to call you when you showed up.”

For someone who had cities full of rioters, alien spaceships on the edges of her star system, and a large force of warships present belonging to an Alliance that had until recently been her bitter enemy, President Iceni appeared remarkably calm and confident. Geary was certain that it was an act, which made it all the more impressive to him.

“Admiral Geary, my friend, I am hoping it is you who have returned to this star system,” President Iceni began. “We are currently undergoing some minor domestic disturbances, which I regret to say are occupying my full attention. General Drakon is at Ulindi, assisting the people there in throwing off the chains of the Syndicate. You will be pleased to hear that your Captain Bradamont has proven to be an exceptionally valuable resource in our attempts to both defend this star system and create a more stable system of governance for it. I regret that she is currently aboard our battleship Midway, which is also at Ulindi and cannot speak to you directly. I assure you that she is both safe and highly respected by the officers and specialists of our military forces.

“From what I can see, it appears that the aliens called the Dancers are returning home. I would appreciate confirmation of this. They sent us a message directly. Watch the different stars. We have no idea what that means.

“I am certain that our current domestic disturbances are the work of foreign agents. I will be focusing my efforts on calming the situation here without resort to Syndicate methods.

“Please advise me of your plans. I remain your friend and ally, President Iceni. For the people. Out.”

Geary sat thinking for several seconds after the message ended. “The Dancers told the locals at Midway to watch the different stars,” he finally said.

“They got a different message than we did,” Desjani said. “Interesting. Too bad we don’t know what either message means.”

“Iceni claimed she was trying to put down the riots without resorting to Syndic methods. I’m sure I know what you think of that.”

“No, you don’t,” she replied. “I believe her.”

He stared at her. “You believe a former Syndic CEO?”

“That’s right.” Desjani indicated the image of President Iceni that still hung suspended next to their seats. “You see, I know that kind of woman. She doesn’t like being pushed around.”

“Yeah, I know that kind of woman, too.”

“Please let me finish, Admiral,” she continued with a sharp look at him. “You heard what she said. This Iceni knows that somebody triggered those riots, that somebody is trying to make her put down the riots using the standard Syndic methods involving lots of dead and wounded demonstrators. And she’s mad enough that she might do that. Except that she knows that’s what the people behind this want. They’re probably working for the Syndic government on Prime. And they’re trying to make her do something.”

Geary pondered that. “Iceni won’t do it because she knows they’re trying to force her into taking that option.”

“Not unless she absolutely has to,” Desjani agreed. “Which she might. This isn’t entirely about her being a Syndic. It’s about her being that kind of person.”

“I hope you’re right. And I hope that Iceni can stop the riots without resorting to mass deaths, or any deaths at all. But we can’t wait around to find out.”

“So, what are you going to tell your friend and ally?” Desjani asked.

“Just the truth. And she really is already an ally of sorts. I hope Iceni turns out to be someone we can call a friend as well someday.” Geary took a slow, deep breath, then touched his comm controls. “President Iceni, this is Admiral Geary. We came here only to escort the Dancers back to Midway. They are proceeding home from here on their own. We cannot remain in this star system one minute longer than absolutely necessary because of the danger that the hypernet gate may be blocked before we can leave. I don’t know when any Alliance ships will be able to come through here again. Perhaps not until we figure out how to override that ability to block access to the gates. I regret that we cannot offer any assistance at this time and also that we cannot offer any suggestions as to the meaning of the message the Dancers sent you. Good luck, and may the living stars aid you. To the honor of our ancestors, Geary, out.”

Desjani rolled her eyes. “You didn’t have to ask the blessing of the living stars for her.”

“I thought you liked her!” he protested.

“I understand her. That doesn’t mean I like her. Aren’t you ever going to figure out things like that?”

“It doesn’t look like it.”

He sat silently after that and actually dozed a few times in his seat, waking to realize with a guilty conscience that the watch-standers on the bridge had been working as silently as possible so as not to disturb him.

“Admiral,” Lieutenant Castries reported, “the Dancers should have jumped one minute ago based on our projections.”

“Thank you.” Geary stared at his display, trying to decide what to do. It would be another six hours before the light reached this part of the star system showing whether the Dancers had actually jumped. He could wait for that confirmation. Maybe he should wait for it. But every hour, every minute, brought them closer to the possibility the Syndics might block this gate and leave his task force stranded at Midway, or once more forced to go home through a deadly gauntlet set up by the Syndics.

“The Dancers have proven they can take care of themselves,” Geary said out loud. “My responsibilities to the Alliance and to the crews of these warships require me to return now rather than risk them by waiting for unnecessary confirmation of the Dancer ships’ departure.”

“I concur,” Desjani said.

He brought the task force around to approach the nearby hypernet gate, wondering if he would ever see Midway again.

“Hypernet key set for Indras,” Desjani said. “Field size set to encompass all ships of the task force.”

“Do it,” Geary said.

And once more the nearly infinite multitude of stars vanished.

Watch the many stars. Watch the different stars. What the hell did those things mean?

They came out at Indras to find a star system under attack.

“Who is it?” Geary demanded as his display rapidly updated, revealing that numerous Syndic installations had been turned into new craters by bombardments. Dispersing wreckage marked the remnants of several merchant ships and one of the Syndic light cruisers that had been here before.

“They must have just left, Admiral,” Lieutenant Yuon said, his eyes darting over the sensor findings. “There aren’t any—”

“A HuK just blew up!” Lieutenant Castries announced. “Something just ripped it apart! Whoever did this is still here.”

“Enigmas,” Geary said.

“We can spot enigmas, Admiral,” Desjani reminded him. “I’ll have my security teams sweep our systems for quantum worms again just in case they got some past our last routine scans.” Desjani spun in her seat to face her watch-standers. “If we can’t spot whoever is hitting Indras, we can spot what they’re doing. Track weapons firing, track bombardment projectile launches, track anything that shows where and what these attackers are.”

Geary hit the command to talk to his intelligence cell. “Lieutenant Iger, I need answers. Who has just hit Indras so hard? There must be something in the comms in this star system that tells us.”

Iger looked rattled but pulled himself together. “Sir, there’s a lot of chatter about dark ships.”

“Dark ships?”

“Yes, sir. Dark warships. There’s— Here’s something else. It sounds like the dark warships showed up and opened fire without any communication or warning. Most of the targets that we can see have been hit were Syndic government or military, but some are civilian. Indras has taken a lot of damage.”

“Captain,” Lieutenant Yuon called, “our systems are not registering any signs of weapons fire. There are zero indications of any attacking ships in this star system.”

Geary fixed a hard look on Iger. “Did you hear that? Do you concur that we can’t see any sign they’re still here?”

“Yes, Admiral. I have to agree.”

“When did the dark ships leave? Can you tell?”

“Admiral…” Iger shook his head helplessly. “Even though we can’t spot any trace of them, from what we’re picking up from the Syndics, they are still here.”