Steadfast

Seven

Badaya smiled wider. “Welcome back, Admiral. I am in command of the fleet.”

He paused, while Geary glowered at his image and Desjani muttered some curses involving a quick trip to the afterlife and abundant torture therein for Badaya.

“Or, I was in command,” Badaya continued. He seemed to be enjoying himself immensely. “I will now, of course, return command of the First Fleet to you. My report of significant activity while serving as acting commander of the fleet will be very brief because not much of significance happened. I am looking forward to seeing you in person, of course.

“Just to clarify things, I was ordered to act as fleet commander until your return. Ordered by fleet headquarters, in the same set of orders that tasked Captain Jane Geary to take her battleship division and some supporting forces to recover some Alliance prisoners of war from former Syndicate territory. Captain Geary followed her orders, as did I.”

Badaya smiled again, and Geary finally understood the reason for his delight. “They expected him to run amuck,” he said to Desjani. “He knew that, and he didn’t do it. He’s happy because he screwed up the plans of whoever decided to send Jane off and specified Badaya to be acting fleet commander.”

“Why is it that people I don’t like keep doing the right things?” Desjani complained.

“I am now once again subject to your orders, Admiral,” Badaya finished with obvious satisfaction. “The fleet has followed all orders, just as you ordered. Our honor remains unstained. To the honor of our ancestors, Badaya, out.”

Geary sat silently for a few moments after the message ended, then looked over at Tanya. “What do you think?”

“I think,” she said, “that Captain Badaya knew exactly what we would be worried about, me especially, and took considerable pleasure in letting me and those senators, who you notice are listed as cc recipients on that message, know that he has done exactly as ordered and has done nothing treasonous, dishonorable, criminal, treacherous, seditious, corrupt, insubordinate, subversive, or stupid.”

“No loose cannons here,” Geary said. “He wasn’t exactly subtle about the everyone following their orders thing.”

“Badaya?” she asked. “Badaya’s idea of subtle is a supernova.”

Geary shook his head as he stared grimly at his display. “He was smart enough to see that someone wanted him to screw up.”

“Why would anyone want to encourage someone to try to overthrow the government?” Desjani asked. “Or just act against the government? I don’t get it. Who wins if that happens?”

“Nobody.” But as soon as he had said it, he realized that was wrong. Some people might imagine they would win in the short haul. And the Syndics, who had everything to gain by sowing the same kind of chaos in Alliance space as now afflicted many areas of Syndicate Worlds space, might win in the long haul as well. He couldn’t believe that any senior officer or politician in the Alliance would collude with known Syndic agents, but those working on behalf of the Syndics who had kept that relationship secret probably were whispering the wrong things into the right ears. If nothing else, those agents would be feeding any fears of what Black Jack might do, and urging actions that would only make sense inside bubbles of secrecy and paranoia.

The war had ended in victory, but the peace might still be lost.

“Admiral?”

Geary had forgotten that General Charban was still on the bridge. He turned to see Charban holding out a data pad. “What is it?”

“A message from the Dancers.”

“For me?” The screen displayed a string of symbols along the top, and a line of words beneath them. Happy. Home. You. Good. Complete. “They’re congratulating us on getting home?”

“Yes,” Charban said. “Though we’re still uncertain exactly what the Dancers mean by concepts like happy and good. Sometimes their happy seems to mean something more like appropriate or even finishing a task. Good appears to be tied up with their concept of patterns. If what happened fits the pattern they see, it’s good. But other times good seems to be referring to some other concepts that we’re still trying to work out.”

“All right.” Geary looked at the message again. “Complete. What does that mean?”

“Something is done,” Charban replied. “Their task? Our task? A pattern? It’s hard to say.”

Tanya shook her head. “The Dancers can’t spell it out any more clearly than that?”

“I think they could,” Charban said. “I’m certain that they could. But they won’t. As I’ve said, they are keeping communications with us at a very basic level for reasons of their own.”

“Have you asked the Dancers why they’re doing that?” Geary said.

Charban smiled. “Not being a diplomat by training, I have asked that question. Every time I have done so, the answer has been the same. Good.”

“Good?”

“Maybe they’re praising you for asking the question,” Desjani suggested wryly.

Charban grinned. “It’s possible. I’m inclined to think they are telling us that they are acting the way they are for good reasons. All that we have to do is figure out what those reasons are.”

It was Geary’s turn to shake his head. “General, I can’t figure out the reasons why some of our fellow humans are doing what they’re doing.”

“Yes. We keep looking for the mirrors that will show us important things about ourselves, but instead the images we see raise as many questions as they do answers. Sometimes I think the universe and the living stars are laughing at us, and we won’t really understand anything until we get the joke. You know, like that old Catch 42 expression that stands for the meaning of life is that in the end you always get screwed.”

“Let’s hope that’s not it,” Geary said.

The next day, a government courier ship reached them and came alongside Dauntless. Geary, resplendent in a full-dress uniform, which Tanya had inspected with a critical eye before grudgingly approving of his appearance, went to the shuttle dock for an official farewell to the three senators.

Costa looked as confident as always, Sakai was once more revealing little, but for the first time that Geary could recall, Suva had an uncharacteristic sense of uncertainty to her.

“When will the Dancers proceed to Unity?” Costa asked.

Envoys Charban and Rione were both present as well, and at the senator’s question Charban turned a pleading eye on Rione.

“We have asked,” Rione said. “The Dancers have not given any clear reply until half an hour ago, when they communicated that they will not be going to Unity.”

“Why not?” Senator Suva demanded. “Unity is the capital star system of the Alliance. They need to see it. The rest of the Senate and the full Grand Council should meet with them.”

“We have told them that,” Rione replied. “Their answer today was Varandal good now.”

“It seems to me,” Costa said, “that we need some new people communicating with the Dancers.” Even though she could not hide her amusement at Suva’s unhappiness, Costa clearly was not pleased with Rione’s news.

Charban smiled apologetically. “The Dancers have to want to communicate with them. They prefer to speak with certain humans.”

“We have only your word for that!”

“The academic experts who accompanied the fleet into Dancer territory said the same thing in their reports,” Geary said.

“Not all of the experts agreed with what was in those reports.”

“Senator,” Rione said, “you are welcome to have anyone speak directly to the Dancers and ask any questions they desire. Envoy Charban and I will assist in any way that we can. But I can safely predict that the answers you get will be the same as we have received.”

Sakai glanced from Rione, to Charban, to Geary. “Do you have any better guesses as to why the Dancers came to human space? Was it primarily to return the remains to Old Earth? Or was there more involved?”

“I believe,” Charban said slowly, his eyes gazing into the distance as he formed the words with care, “that there was a great deal more involved. Things that matter a great deal to the Dancers. I am not confident that all of those things would be recognizable to humans, but I have no doubt the Dancers came here to accomplish something they thought important to us and to them.”

Suva studied Charban closely. “You have words from them that talk about such things?”

“No, Senator. No direct statements. Just a growing feeling from my many attempts to communicate with them and understand them.”

“I wish whatever you had was more definitive than that,” she replied, her voice flat.

“Believe me, Senator,” Charban replied with the same polite deference, “I wish I had something more definitive as well. We know what we have seen them do. That is the only certainty.”

Costa looked around with a warning gaze. “Speaking of what the Dancers have done, I am officially notifying everyone here that all activity within Sol Star System has been classified by order of the Grand Council. No one is to speak to the media about it, no videos or other records are to be released, and no one not present at Sol is to be informed of anything that happened there without the prior approval of the Grand Council. You are not even to discuss those matters among yourselves because of the possibility of being overheard by someone not cleared for the information.”

“You can’t do that!” Charban said with unaccustomed heat, his earlier respectful demeanor vanished.

“Yes, we can,” Costa said, nailing him with a glare. “And we have. Do you understand, Admiral?”

“I understand,” Geary said, trying not to let his voice tremble with anger. “But I would like to know what possible reason there would be for such an action.”

“It is vital to the security of the Alliance,” Senator Suva said, “that the activity in Sol Star System be fully analyzed and evaluated by those responsible for the safety and security of us all before raw data is set loose to be misinterpreted and misunderstood.” It was hard to tell how much she actually believed what she was saying.

Costa smiled. “Someone who sent Marines down to the surface of Europa and recovered them should not question the wisdom of keeping certain matters under wraps.”

“I supported conducting that operation openly and I do not believe it should be kept secret,” Geary said, wondering why Rione had not warned him of this beforehand. He stole a glance her way and saw Rione displaying an unusually open amount of surprise.

“I have a voting proxy from Senator Navarro—” Rione began.

“Which ceased to be in effect once we arrived back at Varandal,” Suva informed Rione.

Sakai looked straight ahead, his expression as hard and unrevealing as stone.

“Do you understand the Grand Council’s orders?” Costa demanded of Rione.

“I understand every word,” Rione assured her in a toneless voice.

“Then we are done here.” Costa headed for the shuttle, followed by Suva and Sakai.

As the shuttle ramp began closing, Geary nodded toward the craft. “I take it you were as surprised as we were?” he asked Rione.

She nodded but held up a cautionary hand. “We’re not supposed to talk about it.”

“Costa and Suva clearly supported that decision, but Sakai didn’t seem happy.”

She smiled enigmatically. “Sakai didn’t express any emotion at all. But I suspect that you are right. Without my proxy vote, it would have been two against one when Costa and Suva unexpectedly cooperated.”

“What can we do to stop this nonsense?” Charban demanded.

“Legally?” Rione asked in reply. “Nothing. Admiral, please excuse me. I have some personal business to attend to.”

“Personal business? I admit I was surprised that you didn’t go with them,” Geary said.

“There have been lots of surprises, haven’t there? I should be able to learn all there is to know about the status of my husband without leaving this fine ship, and I want to stay in communication with the Dancers.”

She was leaving something out. He knew she was. But Geary didn’t call her on it.

“Admiral—” Charban began once more.

“I will see what I can do,” Geary said.

Charban, still upset, left the shuttle dock in Rione’s wake.

Desjani waited until the shuttle had departed, then gave Geary a sidelong look. “That woman wasn’t angry.”

“Rione? No. She pretended to be surprised, but if she had really been blindsided by the news she wouldn’t have shown it. Rione knew the senators were going to drop that bomb just before they left. Sakai must have warned her.”

“I can read her attitudes enough to know what she’s going to do, Admiral. There will be records in the ship’s comm system if she does… anything. Those records could cause major problems.”

“I think I can guarantee there won’t be any records,” Geary said. “Not from this ship.”

“Not from—?” Desjani glanced toward the outside of the hull. “The courier ship?”

“I’d bet on it. If Sakai tipped her off, she had time to set something up. Either an automated routine she slipped past the safety nets on the courier ship’s comm system, or one of Rione’s agents aboard the courier ship who’ll do the same thing.”

Tanya laughed. “So, if there’s any leak, it will come from the ship the senators are on? Explaining that ought to keep them busy for a while. How in the hell do those idiots expect me to keep my crew from talking about anything that happened in Sol Star System?”

“Damned if I know,” Geary said. “Dr. Nasr was right. Classification has nothing to do with reality anymore. Some things have to be kept secret, but this? Billions of people in Sol Star System know what we did there, and have records of what we did there. None of this is secret or can be kept secret. But I imagine the government will continue to officially deny everything even after—I mean, even if—that information leaks. Somehow leaks, that is. By means I don’t know about.”

The next day, Geary was standing in sick bay, waiting for Dr. Nasr to release the quarantine on Lieutenants Yuon and Castries, when Desjani joined him. “You’ve got a call from Admiral Timbale, sir.”

Geary walked to the comm panel on the nearest wall and called up the message. Admiral Timbale, the fleet officer in charge of all the facilities at Varandal, had a long-suffering expression. “Admiral, I have been instructed by representatives of the Grand Council to pass on to you orders that two civilian-leased courier ships en route the hypernet gate, and two more en route jump points for other star systems, be intercepted and stopped by any means necessary. The courier ships are believed to be carrying information classified by the Alliance government. I was told to emphasize to you that these orders must be carried out. Timbale, out.”

Geary frowned at Desjani. “Why didn’t you call me from the bridge as soon as this came in?”

“Because I was just about to come down here, and”—she gestured in the general direction of Varandal’s hypernet gate—“it’s impossible to stop those courier ships with any Alliance warship. All of them are too close to the gate or the jump points they are heading for, and none of our warships are close enough. The only jump point being patrolled is the one to Atalia. If we had been told to stop those courier ships four hours ago it would have been possible, but not now.”

“All right.” He didn’t question Desjani’s assessment. Government orders might not take into account reality, but physics had never shown any tendencies to change the rules of the universe just because someone in a position of human authority was demanding it. “Do we know why we were ordered to stop those courier ships? Why the government thinks they are carrying classified information?”

Desjani’s look of feigned distress was almost laughable. “We’re starting to get news feeds which are full of details about events in Sol Star System while we were there. Apparently, the local news sources waited until we couldn’t stop the courier ships before they started broadcasting the reports.”

“Is there any indication of the source of the reports?” Geary asked.

“Not that we were told.”

He didn’t need any special displays or information to analyze the situation or attach to the message, so Geary tapped in the commands to transmit his reply from here in sick bay. “Admiral Timbale, this is Admiral Geary. Unfortunately, there is no possibility of intercepting any of the courier ships before they depart due to the positions and vectors of those couriers and all available warships. Please advise the representatives of the Grand Council that we regret the physical impossibility of carrying out their order and stand ready to assist in any other way they request. Geary, out.”

Dr. Nasr, painstakingly reviewing every piece of available data on the two lieutenants, had not even noticed the nearby conversation and message transmissions. Now, finished, he stood up and nodded tiredly as he spoke for the record. “I can find no indications of infection. Based on the information provided by Sol Star System authorities, any infection must have manifested one week prior to this. I therefore recommend that the two lieutenants be allowed to leave quarantine.”

Geary spoke with equal solemnity. “I concur in your recommendation and order that Lieutenants Castries and Yuon be removed from quarantine.”

Nasr touched the controls to speak to the two lieutenants. “In two minutes, the seal on the hatch confining you will open. You are to remove all clothing before leaving the compartment. Do not attempt to take any objects with you when you leave. You will be met by two personnel in isolation suits who will ensure you undergo full physical decontamination, after which you will be allowed your freedom of the ship once more. Do you understand?”

“I understand,” Lieutenant Yuon said.

“Remove all clothing?” Lieutenant Castries asked. “I have to be naked in here with him?”

“Only for a short time,” Dr. Nasr assured her.

“Ancestors help me. I really am in hell.”

“I hear suffering is good for the soul,” Yuon snapped at her.

“If that were true, I’d be a saint by now!”

“Lieutenant Castries!” Dr. Nasr broke in. “Do you understand?”

She visibly calmed herself before answering. “Yes, sir. I understand.”

“Commence stripping. The hatch will open in one minute, thirty seconds.”

Geary looked at Desjani. “Is there any medal we can give Lieutenants Castries and Yuon for enduring all of this?”

“I seriously doubt it. I just hope they can still work together after being given a little time to recover from this. I’d hate to break up a good watch team.”

A ship’s captain had to be practical, Geary reflected. “Doctor, how long is it until I can meet with the two lieutenants?”

“The decontamination procedure will take about half an hour. You are welcome to observe—”

“No, thank you, Doctor. They’ve been through enough. Those two don’t need higher authority watching as they undress and go through decontamination. Give me a call when they are ready,” Geary directed. But as he turned to leave, he found General Charban waiting. “Yes?”

“Can we talk, Admiral?” Charban asked.

“Certainly. Captain Desjani, I’m going to my stateroom. Please notify Envoy Rione that I need to talk with her.”

Charban did not say anything for the first minute of their walk toward Geary’s stateroom. When he finally spoke, he sounded oddly wistful. “Someone beat me to it.”

“What’s that?”

“You know what I mean, Admiral. I long ago had my fill of official stupidity.” Charban was looking straight ahead, but his eyes did not seem to see the passageway they were in, instead gazing upon some other images that lived in his memory. “I saw too many men and women die because of official stupidity. Too many die for no reason or bad reasons. I know you don’t think much of my judgment in that respect.”

“General,” Geary said slowly, “I didn’t grow up with the war. I didn’t spend my entire life at war. I don’t judge those who did.”

“But you do, and I don’t blame you for it.” Charban sighed heavily, his eyes growing haunted. “There was a moon in Semele Star System, the only thing worth living on in that entire star system. A red giant sun orbited by a few small rocks and one gas giant, and the moon orbited the gas giant. The Syndics had heavily fortified it. They had it, so we had to have it. I led my soldiers down onto that moon and we fought. The warships with us bombarded that moon until it was no longer worth having, but the Syndics kept fighting. I never understood that, Admiral. I never understood why the Syndics fought so hard against us when their government was so vile. But the former Syndics at Midway explained it to me. They were fighting to protect their homes. That was all. Not their government. Their homes. Their families. That’s what they believed.”

Charban came to a halt, still staring ahead of him. “We lost half of my division killing every Syndic on that moon. Two weeks after that, we left. Repositioned, in official jargon. I don’t know whether or not the Syndics once again garrisoned the moon. All I knew was that I had lost half of my division so that we could occupy a place that we then left. I couldn’t do it anymore. I put in my papers. I had served long enough. They had to grant me retirement. Why I survived and others did not, I don’t know. But I couldn’t do it anymore, Admiral. And I couldn’t believe in it anymore. I couldn’t believe that the people deciding strategy and plans had any idea what they were doing. I couldn’t believe that the men and women we were sending to their deaths were accomplishing anything by their sacrifices.”

“I understand,” Geary said. “Truly. I do understand.”

Charban blew out a long breath, then finally looked at Geary again. “Yes. I think you do. Did you leak all of those reports to the press?”

“No.”

“Would you have? Don’t answer. I think I know. But you must know this about me. I have no right to be here, to be alive, when I led so many to their deaths. I will spend what life is left to me trying to make a difference. I thought I could do that by entering politics. I don’t believe that anymore. But there’s a chance I can make a difference with the Dancers. A chance I can establish the beginnings of real understanding between our species and theirs. Would that be enough, Admiral?” Charban’s gaze held his, the eyes dark with some hidden emotion. “Would it justify my still being alive, when they are dead?”

“General,” Geary said, his voice soft, “I’m not wise enough to know the answer to that. I agree that when we first met I was skeptical of your own aversion to using force when I thought it necessary, but I do understand your reasons. What if the Dancers depart and don’t allow any humans to accompany them back to their own territory? Will you reconsider politics then?”

Charban took a moment to answer. “Do you think I should?”

“I think we need more leaders who think more about the consequences of their actions and their decisions. I don’t know that I would always agree with your decisions, but I do know you would take into account the long-term impact of them. And…” Geary had to pause to be sure he said the next thing right. “Those men and women you led, like the men and women I lead, died to defend their homes and families as well. I think their sacrifices deserve leaders who remember that, and who remember them.”

Charban stayed silent for a longer time, before finally nodding. “Perhaps you are right. I will think about it. But now I am keeping you from meeting with Envoy Rione, and with this ship rejoining the rest of the fleet soon, I’m sure you have a lot of other things to worry about as well.” He walked away, head bent in thought.

Rione was waiting at the hatch when Geary got to his stateroom, but she waved off his invitation to enter. “I need to catch a lift, Admiral.”

“You’re leaving?”

“Yes. There’s a ship coming out to pick me up.” A shadow crossed her expression, there and gone but unmistakable in its brief hint of worry and resolve. “I have found no clear information about my husband. I will have to hunt for the answers.”

“If anyone has failed to live up to their agreements—” Geary began.

She silenced him with another sharp gesture of one hand. “If that is the case, I will take any necessary actions, and the less you know of that perhaps the better. This you must know, though. The Alliance has reliable reports that the Syndicate Worlds government on Prime is consumed with internal fighting. There have been more coups, attempted coups, and countercoups. The attempt to stop your fleet from returning from Midway was apparently one of the few actions that the Syndic central government has recently been able to agree on and try to implement.”

“Why haven’t I seen those reports?” Geary demanded. “Lieutenant Iger told me we haven’t received any new material about the Syndic government.”

“You haven’t. Because the reports are classified in compartments for which fleet units are not authorized access.” She shook her head in response to his immediate anger. “Don’t bother venting to me about it. You know I agree with you. Here’s the meat of the reporting. With the central Syndic government preoccupied with sticking knives in each other’s backs, large portions of what remains of technically Syndic-controlled territory are reverting to an almost feudal power structure. Strong CEOs with access to the necessary wealth and firepower are asserting control over star systems in their local regions. They’re exercising considerable autonomy in the absence of a firm presence from the central government.”

“What’s left of the Syndicate Worlds is falling apart?”

This time, Rione’s gesture was indecisive. “Perhaps. Or perhaps the feudal power arrangement will stabilize the collapse. It’s too early to tell. That’s all I know.”

“Have you heard anything about Captain Jane Geary and her ships?”

“No. That was apparently a pure fleet issue. Whoever sent her off didn’t get their marching orders from any Senate source I can identify so far.”

“Thank you.” Geary hesitated, searching for the right words. “Good luck.” It struck him suddenly that Rione might not be back, that if she found her husband and all was as well as could be, she had other places to be and other things to do than accompany this fleet any longer.

As he tried to think of the right way to say good-bye this time, Rione nodded wordlessly to him, then spun about and walked briskly away down the passageway.

He went in, pulled off the dress uniform top, and sat down heavily in the one really comfortable chair his stateroom boasted. The display above the low table before the chair was set for Varandal, so for a few moments he slumped down, watching the many ships and human installations orbiting the star, bright spots on the display as they swung in what seemed slow, lazy circles among the planets and other natural objects in the star system.

Geary frowned as he realized that six of those bright spots were accelerating together at an extremely impressive rate, heading away from Dauntless and toward…

His comm panel buzzed urgently.

“The Dancers have taken off like bats out of hell,” Desjani reported.

“What?”

“The Dancers have—”

“I heard you! Where are they going?”

“Their vector is a beeline for the jump point for Bhavan.”

“Bhavan?” One of the star systems adjacent to Varandal, Bhavan led deeper into Alliance space. “Why are they going to Bhavan?”

“Do you honestly expect me to be able to answer that question?” Desjani asked.

“No. Hold on.” Geary hit acknowledge again as his comm alert sounded once more. A second virtual window appeared, this one showing General Charban. “Do you know that the Dancers are heading for Bhavan?”

Charban raised both eyebrows. “They are? That explains the message they just sent us. We future return. Durnan.”

“What?” Geary said again. “What does that mean?”

“Since you tell me they are heading for a jump point out of this star system, it means they are leaving Varandal to go to Durnan Star System and will return. That is my best guess, anyway.”

Geary slumped back again, massaging his forehead as another headache loomed. “Tell the Dancers we’ll escort them—”

“Sir,” Desjani interrupted, “we can’t catch them before they reach that jump point. Not at the rate they are going.”

“We have to send an escort,” Geary began stubbornly.

“Not if they won’t wait for one,” she replied.

“I will ask,” Charban added in tones that implied he did not expect any useful result from the asking.

“General,” Geary said with what he thought was immense patience, “if the Dancers go zooming through Alliance space on their own, refusing an escort, I will be held responsible. Everyone will be asking me why the Dancers left, where they are going, and what they are doing.”

Charban nodded, unimpressed. “And then you will ask me to answer those same questions. I will tell you I don’t know, and you will pass on that answer, because it’s the only one we’ve got.”

“General, dammit—”

“If you have a way to make them tell us what they’re doing, Admiral, please employ it! Because I don’t.”

Geary paused, breathing slowly and getting himself under control. “I’m sorry, General. I know that you’re doing your best, and that you have a better grasp of the Dancers than anyone else. See if you can get anything else out of them before the Dancers jump for Bhavan. Does Bhavan take them toward Durnan?”

“Yes, sir,” Desjani confirmed. “They’ll have to make a couple more jumps from Bhavan, though.”

What if someone panicked and opened fire on the Dancers as they transited through those other star systems? What if whoever was in charge of defenses at Durnan took action? “How can we get General Charban to Durnan in time to ensure he can talk to the people there before they overreact to the Dancers arriving? Is there any way to do that, or are the Dancers taking the most direct route?”

Charban, a ground forces soldier confronted with a fleet question, merely shook his head.

Tanya was gazing off to one side intently. “I’m running some options… there’s a way, Admiral. We can send the general on a ship through the hypernet gate here to Tehack. From there they can jump to Durnan, and should be able to get there at about the same time the Dancers do as they make three jumps.”

“ID a ship for me,” Geary ordered. “Heavy cruiser, close by, in good fighting shape and with close to one hundred percent fuel. Pick a light cruiser if none of the heavies fit the criteria.”

“I’ll get my people on it,” Desjani said.

“General, get ready for a fast transfer and several weeks on a cruiser.”

“Yes, Admiral,” Charban said. “There may be some trouble regarding security. I have been informed that our comm equipment and software is not to be moved—”

“I hereby direct you to take all of the comm gear and software you need to talk to the Dancers. It’s not going to do us any good sitting on Dauntless while the Dancers are at Durnan.”

Geary paused, imagining hysterical news accounts of an “alien invasion force” swooping through the Alliance. “I’ll notify our Grand Council representatives of what is happening and what we’re doing.”

“They won’t be happy,” Charban predicted. “But you might offer them this comfort. If the records of our visit to Old Earth had been kept secret, had not been mysteriously leaked to the media, then panic and fear might have resulted when the Dancers appeared alone in those star systems. But by the time the Dancers reach those places, the news will have preceded them. Our people will have seen what the Dancers did. Perhaps they will watch the Dancers pass by and wish the Dancers the blessings of the living stars.”

“Wouldn’t that be nice,” Desjani said. She tried to keep her voice dry and sarcastic, but some real emotion leaked through.

“I’ll bring that up,” Geary promised. “Tanya—”

“Diamond,” Desjani interrupted. “Heavy cruiser Diamond. She fits the bill. I’ll notify her to break orbit and join up with us while you let the senators know what’s going on.”

“Good.”

“But put a full uniform on before you call them. Sir.”

“Uh… right.” He had forgotten that he had pulled off the top of his dress uniform. The senators were going to be unhappy enough without making them think he was deliberately disrespecting them.

“The representatives from the Grand Council were pretty mad about the whole thing, but even they had to acknowledge that we had no way of forcing the Dancers to stop.”

The day after the wild scramble to deal with the departure of the Dancers, Geary’s stateroom was crowded with several officers who were all physically present. Given the things that might be discussed, Geary hadn’t wanted to use any form of conferencing software, no matter how allegedly secure it was.

One of the advantages of being fleet commander, though, was that he still got the comfortable chair.

“Diamond will get the, um, envoy there on time,” Captain Duellos observed, smiling at the play of light in the wine in his glass. “And keep an eye on the envoy as well.”

“That’s not really necessary,” Desjani said. “General Charban can be trusted.”

Duellos raised an eyebrow at her. “That’s a different assessment from you than the ones I heard when he first joined this fleet. Doesn’t he want to be a politician?”

“I think we’d be lucky if he did.”

Geary broke into the surprised silence that followed Tanya’s statement. “Is there anything else that anyone can tell me about Jane Geary and her ships?”

Captain Tulev shook his head, slowly and stolidly, like a bull standing firm. “She left only a week ago. Dreadnaught, Dependable, and Conqueror were not fully repaired by any means, but all had enough combat capability to handle a mission for which no threat was expected.”

“She was sent into Syndic space!”

“Yes. But, according to her orders, the star system where the Alliance prisoners awaited pickup is comparable to Atalia.”

Captain Badaya leaned back, drumming his fingers on the arm of the chair, his expression that of someone tasting something sour. “I still think she’ll get there and find nothing. Headquarters just wanted an excuse to get her out of the star system so they could appoint me temporary commander of the fleet. It’s clear enough what they expected. I would assume temporary command, and I would promptly threaten the government with whatever ships I could get to follow those orders. A year ago, I might well have done that and played right into their hands.”

“The point is,” Geary said, “that you didn’t.”

“What are they after, Admiral?” Badaya asked, sounding almost plaintive. “Why would fleet headquarters want part of the fleet to rebel against the government?”

Tanya rested one side of her chin on her fist as she gazed at him. “It’s like when someone tried to court-martial all of those ship commanders for running too low on fuel cells. Something guaranteed to make the hotheads explode. That almost worked.”

Badaya looked even unhappier. “I played a role in that.”

“Maybe that’s why they thought you would be a sure thing this time,” Geary observed. “Whoever they are. What I think they are looking for is a reason to dramatically reduce the size of this fleet.”

Duellos had been watching the others. Now he spoke in a voice tinged with bitterness. “Why do they need a reason beyond the end of the war? Cut the budget some more, cut loose the officers and sailors the Alliance no longer needs, and reduce this fleet to a shadow of itself.”

“They can’t,” Desjani replied. “Because Black Jack is in command. The people of the Alliance trust him far more than they trust the government. If the government obviously undercuts him without a good justification, it will be viewed as an attack on the champion of the Alliance by a bunch of corrupt politicians.”

“If you ask me,” Badaya said, “that’s exactly what it would be.”

Tulev nodded toward Badaya. “He speaks the words many in the Alliance would feel. Yes, if you look at events since the end of the war, our orders have repeatedly exposed us to situations that would reduce our numbers and capabilities. I have heard that there is much infighting among the government, but the different factions appear to agree on the need to lower the threat they see as posed by us.”

“The threat posed by me,” Geary replied forcefully. “They’re playing these games, sending this fleet into situations where men and women can die and have died, because they fear me.”

Duellos shook his head, his mouth twisted into a grimace. “That’s only partly true. Yes, Admiral, you are the focus of the government’s attention right now, but if you had not existed, and we had somehow won the war anyway, they would be just as fearful of this fleet. And this fleet would be actively resisting any attempts to reduce its numbers.”

Tulev rarely smiled, and even though his lips curled a bit now, his expression still did not really reflect any humor. “The fleet would see such attempts as treasonous actions by a disloyal government, and the government would see the fleet’s behavior as treasonous actions by a disloyal military.”

“And the Alliance would end up going through the same kind of collapse the Syndicate Worlds is now experiencing,” Geary said.

“If they keep reducing this fleet,” Badaya asked, sounding bewildered now, “what will they use to defend the Alliance? They’ve seen that the Syndics still can’t be trusted, they’ve seen the sorts of local warlords and piracy popping up where Syndic control has crumbled, so they must know they can’t depend on good intentions or treaties to defend us.”

Captain Smythe shrugged. “In the Admiral’s day, a century ago, the fleet was considerably smaller than even what we have left with us at the moment.”

“His day is right now,” Desjani insisted.

“You’re both right,” Geary said to stop any debate on a subject that made him uncomfortable. “But a century ago, the paradox was that we didn’t trust each other, but we trusted each other to keep things quiet. We could keep the fleet smaller because the Alliance counted on the Syndics keeping things quiet in their territory, and the Syndic fleet was also much smaller because they knew the Alliance would maintain order in its territory.”

“That makes no sense at all,” Badaya complained. “With all due respect, Admiral.”

“It apparently worked,” Smythe pointed out. “Until it stopped working. I’d love to find out exactly why the Syndic leadership decided to start that war.”

“We guessed that the enigmas tricked the Syndics into starting it,” Duellos said. “But I think the enigmas’ seeds of war fell onto fertile ground because of the way the Syndicate Worlds is governed. Their Supreme Council are pretty much absolute rulers, which means they didn’t have to listen to anyone counseling caution. They could just indulge their fantasies without fear of contradiction.”

Tulev nodded heavily. “And out of that, what horrors grew. It is something anyone in power must fear, being surrounded by the flatterers and fools who say only what they think the powerful want to hear.”

“Admiral Geary won’t have that problem,” Tanya remarked dryly.

Badaya laughed. “Not as long as you’re around!”

“Speaking of saying what people want to hear,” Geary said, “what’s the real reason why all of the warships are broadcasting false readiness data?”

“Officially?” Badaya asked. “We were told that agents of unspecified foreign powers might be monitoring the readiness of Alliance combat forces, so we were to present the strongest possible image regardless of the true status of our forces.”

“Foreign powers?” Tanya scoffed. “There’s only one foreign power. The Syndics.”

To Geary’s surprise, the other captains shook their heads at her.

“Lately,” Captain Smythe explained, “the phrase ‘foreign powers’ has been used in the media to describe the Callas Republic, the Rift Federation, stars outside Alliance space in the direction of Sol, and the Midway Star System and other former Syndic territories. Not to mention the press, which has itself been described as ‘foreign interests’ by members of the Alliance government.”

“Does someone think we need more enemies?” Geary asked.

“Enemies can be useful.”

“I do not think it is that simple,” Tulev interjected, a slight frown crossing his brow in an unusual display of open emotion. “When people are afraid, when they are uncertain, they see more enemies. In this, they are sincere. It would be a mistake to assume all of those involved are cynically manufacturing more enemies to advance their own agendas. Many of them do see those enemies.”

Captain Tulev paused, then spoke with his usual careful, emotionless precision. “You all know that my home star system was destroyed during the war, and that the survivors occupied defenses there afterwards, awaiting the return of the Syndics. I know that there have been many, many detections of incoming Syndic attacks in that star system since then. The great majority of them were illusions. Men and women swore they saw the indications, saw the detections of the enemy arriving, but data recordings showed no such reports from sensors. The defenders, fortified amidst the ruins of all they once knew, often see the enemy coming once more. They honestly believe they see those enemies. It is not a tactic or an attempt to mislead.”

After a long moment of silence, Badaya laughed again, this time briefly and harshly. “Maybe that’s us. We need enemies, too, don’t we? To justify the continued size of this fleet?”

“We didn’t imagine the Syndic attacks on the way back from Midway!” Desjani shot back at him.

“Granted.” Badaya furrowed his brow in an almost comical display of deep thought. “But let’s imagine we’re average citizens of an average Alliance star system. They hear all about what the Syndics did, and they wonder why they should worry. That was in Syndic territory! Are the Syndics coming here to do such things? What about the enigmas and the Kicks? Immensely far away! Why the need for such a large fleet? Because the officers of that fleet see danger?”

“That’s—” Desjani waged an obvious struggle to control herself before continuing. “All right. You have a point. We need to convince those citizens that the enemies we’re worried about are real.”

“And that some dangers are real as well,” Duellos agreed. “Especially when the force assigned the task of dealing with dangers outside the borders of the Alliance, this fleet, is at about sixty percent readiness instead of the one hundred percent the data feeds claim.”

“Hopefully, fleet headquarters and the government realize that,” Geary said. “No other orders have come in since Jane Geary was sent off?”

“Not yet,” Duellos said. “But they could come soon. You may not have noticed in the rush of your arrival, but three ships departed via the hypernet gate within a few minutes after Dauntless’s return. One was an official courier ship, while the other two claimed to be civilian ships with no government ties even though both were high-speed craft and, along with the courier ship, had been loitering near the gate for weeks. A lot of people wanted to know when Black Jack got back. Now some wheels are going to start turning. But what wheels and to what purpose?”

No one had the answers to those questions.

As the others left the stateroom for Dauntless’s shuttle dock, Captain Smythe lingered, waiting until Geary had shut the hatch again before speaking.

“I need to update you on funding,” Smythe said, scratching his beard with one hand. “We’re running into some problems.”

Geary nodded, trying not to look grim. “People are catching on?”

“Catching on?” Smythe asked, surprised. “No. It’s not that. The only one with a big enough view of what we’re physically doing is Admiral Timbale, and he has made it clear to me that as long as the payment vouchers for work on our ships continue to clear, he has no interest in knowing anything about how we’re getting all of those payments authorized.”

Smythe wandered over to Geary’s table and tapped in a few commands, producing an image of serried ranks of organizational codes and program codes connected by a rat’s-nest of tangled lines and dotted lines. “This is a simplified summary of the sort of sources we’re tapping for funds.”

“Simplified? You’re joking,” Geary said, staring at the mess.

“Now, Admiral, this isn’t a bad thing. From our perspective, it’s a good thing. It’s so complex and confusing that it gives us a lot of room to work.” Smythe adopted a virtuous expression. “Within the system, of course.”

“Of course,” Geary agreed. “So what is the problem?”

“We can only tap money that’s there. If the wells start to run dry, it doesn’t matter what tricks we use to turn the spigots. We get less and less out.”

“All of these accounts and programs are running out of money?”

“They are. There’s major underfunding going on all over.” Smythe waved a finger up and down. “To the extent that we’re seeing money being bounced from place to place to hide the shortfalls.”

“Bounced? You mean they’re robbing Peter to pay Paul?”

“Oh, no, nothing that innocent.” Smythe grinned, looking piratical now instead of angelic. “They’re bouncing the money from place to place in such ways that they can double-count it as being in two or more places at once. There are little tricks that keep the money that remains moving so fast that it appears to be in multiple locations, and it gets counted as being in all of them. It looks like they have enough money to pay Peter, Paul, and Mary, but they don’t actually let the money sit still long enough for checks to clear.”

Geary sat down heavily, his eyes fixed on the mess. “I don’t believe it. How are we getting money, then?”

“Because it’s bouncing! That means it has to sit somewhere for just a very tiny moment before it jumps somewhere else. And, if you have the right software and the right green-haired talent to spot the patterns they’re using, you can time your withdrawals to hit during that very tiny moment.” Smythe frowned meditatively, looking into the distance. “Sort of like shooting skeet, I suppose. No. Like that old Whack-a-mole thing. With the help of the invaluable Lieutenant Shamrock, we are ready to hit the moles the instant they pop up, and taking a bit off the top each time.”

Something about that phrasing made Geary give Smythe a stern, inquisitive look. “Is anything else coming off the top?”

Smythe managed to express simultaneous shock, piety, and sincerity. “No, sir! Some people might be tempted in such circumstances, but those people wouldn’t be looking ahead. This can only last so long, Admiral. No matter how fast they bounce the balls, the point is going to come where the government either pays all of its bills or it defaults. If the Alliance government defaults, it would make current circumstances look downright idyllic. I think they’ll find the money somehow.

“But when the government finally pays up, it can only do so by cleaning up the mess in its accounting, which will expose what was done. That is the point, sir, at which all of those accountants doing their best to carry out their orders to bounce the money will find themselves hauled up on charges for bouncing the money, while their superiors, the men and women who gave the orders to them, express surprise and shock at the whole thing before collecting another medal and promotion.”

Geary snorted a cynical laugh and nodded. “You’re probably right.”

“I know I am, Admiral.” Smythe spread his hands. “I have no intention of being one of those made a scapegoat in this. Nor would I position anyone working for me to be snared. Everything we are doing is proper and legal. If anyone catches on, they’ll tell us to stop, not because it’s illegal but because they don’t want to spend that much money on us. But as long as they don’t say we have to stop, we can do it, and justify it all by letter of rules and regulations.”

Geary grinned. “We’re all right, then?”

“Not entirely, Admiral. As I said at the start, we can’t grab as much as we would like to. It’s not there to grab. As a result, repair work on your ships has slowed down. It can’t be helped.”

Ugly. A fleet constructed to last a couple of years at best, every ship now exceeding its planned life span, more and more equipment failing due to “age” and less and less money to rebuild, repair, or replace everything that was breaking. But, if not for Captain Smythe, things would be a lot worse. “Thanks for all you’re doing to keep this fleet as ready as possible. Put together for me your best estimate of the impact of the funding shortfalls on the fleet’s readiness, looking downstream about six months if current trends continue. Then keep me apprised of any changes or major problems,” Geary told Smythe. “Give my thanks to Lieutenant Jamenson as well.”

“Certainly, Admiral.” For the first time, Smythe displayed some discomfort. “As you know, Lieutenant Jamenson, our green-haired Shamrock, has expressed interest in a transfer to intelligence. You had indicated that you would look favorably upon that, and I agreed with your reasoning that we should not penalize her for doing so well in her current job by denying her other opportunities. However, given current circumstances, I would like to delay such a transfer.”

Oddly, that sort of personnel issue felt harder to deal with than the abstract discussion of money and equipment. “I’ll talk to her, Captain. I’ll explain what we’re facing, and that we need her where she is for now.” Geary rubbed the sides of his jaw unhappily. “I wish I could promise her that transfer in a month or two months, but I can’t.”

Smythe shrugged. “You know, Admiral, it may seem strange given Lieutenant Jamenson’s ability to confuse and cloud issues, but she does like being played straight with. I think your idea is a good one.”

“Has she found any more information regarding the new construction?”

This time Smythe shook his head. “Nothing direct. Though I strongly suspect that some of the funds missing from the accounts we’re trying to tap have been redirected to cover cost overruns for building that new fleet. There is one odd thing, though. Support facilities. There aren’t any.”

“What do you mean?” Geary waved toward the star display. “With the reductions in forces going on, there must be a lot of underused support facilities that they can tap for use by those new ships.”

“Yes, Admiral.” Smythe pointed to the display as well, looking perplexed. “But, firstly, we can’t find money being diverted to keep any of those underused facilities operational, and, secondly, if this fleet is being kept so secret, how can it maintain secrecy if it is sent to existing facilities in some star system full of people who would see those new ships? They would need new facilities, somewhere no one would spot them.”

“That’s a very good point.” More puzzles. “If we could find Admiral Bloch, we could probably find those support facilities and any of those new ships that have been finished.”

“Maybe they’re at Unity Alternate,” Smythe said with a grin.

“Unity what?” Geary asked.

“Unity Alternate.” Smythe’s grin faded. “You don’t get it? Oh. Of course you wouldn’t. It’s an old joke for us, but you wouldn’t have heard it. At least fifty years ago, rumors started going around that an emergency fallback place was being constructed in case the Syndics hit the Alliance capital at Unity. Some secret star system with all sorts of facilities being secretly constructed so the government could carry on the war even if the worst happened.”

“Secret star system? How could that work?”

“That’s the problem, isn’t it? We had the hypernet going in at that time, so marginal star systems were starting to be abandoned, but, still, any star system that we could jump to was accessible. Sealing one off would have been like posting a huge sign saying ‘Secret Facility Here.’ People actually looked, but no one found such a thing, so in time it became a joke. Anything mysterious, anything missing, was at Unity Alternate. Why hasn’t leave been approved? The forms are at Unity Alternate. Where are my new specialists? They got sent to Unity Alternate. It’s such an old joke by now that only old fools like me are likely to make it.”

Geary sighed. “At least I’ll understand next time someone else makes that joke. Speaking of missing objects, I see that Invincible is gone. Where did they take her?” The captured Kick superbattleship was immensely valuable in every possible sense of the word. He had not doubted that the government would take it somewhere else to slowly and carefully explore and exploit the vessel and everything in it.

Smythe spread his hands. “Your guess is as good as mine. Not only did they not tell us where they were going when they left by hypernet, I haven’t been able to find out any news of where they went. Every press agency in the Alliance is looking for Invincible, but no one has found a trace of the ship.”

“She’s at Unity Alternate?”

“Exactly. See? You’ve already got the joke down.” Smythe paused, then spoke in a more formal tone of voice. “There is one more thing, Admiral. A major problem. Since Dauntless returned to Varandal, word has gone out along various black-market channels of items for sale.”

“Items?”

“Yes.” Smythe gestured vaguely in what might have been the direction of far, far distant Sol. “Most of them are items from Old Earth or elsewhere in Sol Star System, which as far as I can tell may not have cleared customs and had duty paid on them but otherwise are innocuous enough. But there is also talk of collectors’ items that have been on the surface of Europa.”

“The surface of Europa?” Geary repeated, disbelieving. All of the armor had been destroyed. He was certain of that. And the Marines had brought back nothing except— “The clothes on their backs.”

Smythe nodded. “Now fantastically valuable because of where they have been. I understand the desire to… operate in creative ways. How often can a pair of dirty underwear earn the owner a huge sum of money? If nothing else, the irony of the whole concept is priceless. But offering items for sale that are tied to Europa will not only generate a tremendous amount of interest from collectors, but also far too much interest from various governmental, law-enforcement, customs, medical, and other authorities. And if they start poking into that…”

They might notice how much money Geary was finding to keep his fleet repaired and operating. Master Chief Gioninni must be behind this sales scheme. The amount of potential profit, and the no-doubt technically legal aspects of the sales, must have blindsided Gioninni’s usual caution. A word to Tanya about Gioninni and to General Carabali about her Marines’ sideline should be all that was needed to eliminate that part of the sale. “I’ll make sure that’s shut down, Captain Smythe. Thank you for alerting me to it.”

If only every problem were so easily resolved.

Six days later, another courier ship arrived at Varandal, flashing into existence at the hypernet gate. There had been other courier ships showing before then, but Geary had watched this one’s arrival with particular concern. Given the time required for a round-trip to fleet headquarters, today was the earliest orders might arrive for him after headquarters was informed of his return. It took hours for the light of the courier ship’s arrival to reach where Dauntless orbited, but once Geary knew the ship was here, he also knew he wouldn’t have long to wait.

Five minutes after seeing the arrival of the ship at the hypernet gate, a high-pitched tone that signified receipt of a high-priority, eyes-only message for Geary burst to life.

Four times he let the alert repeat, before he touched the desk control to silence it and view the message identification—Alliance Fleet Headquarters. Orders for Commander, Alliance First Fleet.

It took a conscious effort to open the message and view its contents. Geary braced himself, counting down before his finger tapped the command.

Three. Two. One.