Victorious

NINE

Geary jerked his attention back to his display, where the hypernet gate depiction was pulsing red in warning. Now? What kind of cruel joke would it be for everything to end that way after defeating every other challenge? “How much time left until it collapses?”

No answer. Geary looked back and saw the watch-stander, along with every other watch-stander, staring aghast at their displays.

Desjani’s voice, hard, louder than usual, cut across the bridge. “The admiral asked you for the system estimate of the time until collapse.”

The lieutenant jerked back to awareness. “I’m sorry, Captain. Sir, fifteen minutes.”

“Fifteen minutes?” Geary asked.

“Yes, sir. That’s all. It’s going down very fast.”

Geary closed his eyes, took a deep breath, then looked back at the display. “That’s not enough time to get the fleet into the defensive formation.”

“No, sir,” Desjani agreed, her voice quieter now.

Geary triggered the appropriate comm circuit. “All units in the Alliance fleet, this is Admiral Geary. As you are aware, the hypernet gate here is collapsing. We have been informed that the catastrophic-fail function has been disabled, but could not confirm that, nor do we know whether or not the safe-fail system is functioning properly. We cannot predict the level of the energy discharge. All ships are to position themselves bow on to the hypernet gate location and maximize forward shields.” There had to be something else to say, in what might be his last transmission. “If worse comes to worst, the remnants of central power for the Syndicate Worlds’ government and mobile forces will be destroyed along with this fleet. Our sacrifice will not be in vain, and our children will be free of this war.”

Rione burst onto the bridge and stood staring at the display before the observer seat, before dropping into it. Her eyes didn’t seem to be watching the display, though. Geary wondered what she was looking at in her mind’s eye. “How are negotiations going?” he asked, amazed that he could actually ask the question with sarcasm rather than bitterness.

Rione shook her head quickly, then focused on Geary. “The Syndics were as shocked as we were. When I left, they were screaming that they hadn’t done it, that no collapse order had been sent, that the catastrophic-fail algorithms could not still be operational.”

What to say to that? “Thank you.”

“Five minutes to collapse,” the operations watch-stander announced in a strained voice.

“Forward shields at maximum,” the combat-systems watch-stander reported.

“Very well.” Desjani was massaging her forehead lightly with the tips of the fingers of one hand, hiding her expression. She glanced at Geary and just for a moment smiled wistfully. “If worse comes to worst, it’s been nice knowing you.”

“Same here.” Possibly only a few minutes left, but they couldn’t even touch hands. They had maintained their honor up to now, and they would end that way if that was what fate decreed.

The hypernet gate had actually collapsed more than seven hours ago. The light from that event was finally reaching them, and any shock wave soon would as well. Geary watched his display, part of him marveling at the fact that everything on it closer to the hypernet gate might already be gone.

“One minute.” The watch-stander’s voice cracked.

“Very well,” Desjani repeated, her voice composed but getting louder again. “We will meet this as Dauntless and her crew have met every danger, with honor and courage.”

A chorus of assents from the watch-standers followed her words. Desjani gave Geary another smile. He nodded back to her. Rione was staring fixedly into space again.

“Thirty seconds until estimated arrival of shock wave … ten seconds … five seconds … four … three … two … one.”

The moment came and passed, just as it had at Lakota. “Get me an updated estimate if you can, Lieutenant,” Desjani ordered.

“Yes, Captain, I—Captain?” The operations watch-stander was studying his display intently. “I think it’s happened. Yes. One second after the estimate. The energy discharge from the gate was so small that our instruments barely registered it. We’ve got a clear view of where the gate was and all the intervening space. The gate is gone, but everything is fine.”

“I’ll be damned.” Desjani turned a baffled gaze on Geary. “Those Syndic CEOs told the truth.”

He felt light-headed as he nodded in reply. “It looks like they did. We’re all still alive.”

“A miracle,” Desjani said, shaking her head. “I mean, yes, we’re alive, but Syndic CEOs told the truth. I never expected that to happen.”

“I guess we owe the living stars thanks for that miracle and for the fact that we’re still alive.” Geary tapped his controls. “All units in the Alliance fleet, this is Admiral Geary. The safe-fail mechanism on the hypernet gate functioned properly. The threat is past. Continue previously assigned operations.” He turned back to look at Rione. “I believe you can return to your negotiations, Madam Co-President.”

Rione stood up, smiling. “I will do that, Admiral. I’ll also light a candle to Captain Cresida tonight.”

As Rione left, Geary looked toward Desjani. “Remind me to do the same.”

“I shouldn’t have to remind you about that,” she told him in a voice almost as scolding as the one previously aimed at her watch-standers. “But I will, before I light one for her, too. Now, why did that gate collapse?”

“Someone loyal to the former Syndic leaders, and willing to die themselves, might have sent the order,” Geary speculated. “Or …”

“Yes. Or our mysterious enemies. Somehow they figured out we were here and sent the collapse order.” Desjani leaned back, her posture still tense. “If they had sent that order earlier, before the Syndics deactivated the catastrophic-collapse routines, they would have decapitated the Syndicate Worlds and wiped out the Alliance fleet.”

“Nice for them.” Geary rubbed his chin, thinking about unfinished business. “It’s not going to end here, is it?”

“Hell, no, sir.”

“There’s a way the aliens could have found out we were here, and that’s through the Syndic ships.” Geary drummed his fingers on the arm of his chair. “Some of the Syndic warships, especially the battleships, are crippled but still intact. We need to get some of our ships over to them to ‘provide assistance.’ ” Desjani raised disbelieving eyebrows at him. “We’ll get some people aboard them, whether they like it or not. We’ll make a humanitarian gesture, assist with wounded and evacuating crew who couldn’t get off in escape pods. We’ll also examine the Syndic operating systems for the alien worms while we’re doing that.”

Desjani’s expression cleared. “If the worms are there, we’ll know the Syndics don’t know about them.”

“Exactly. And it will tell us how the aliens learned we were here. If the worms aren’t there, it could mean the Syndics have also figured out how to neutralize them, or it could mean the aliens chose not to spy on the Syndics.”

“If I were you, I wouldn’t place any money on that second possibility. Whatever those things are, they seem to have pushed for every advantage they can get.” Desjani shook her head. “But the cover story will be that we’re helping the Syndics. Even you aren’t going to have a lot of sailors volunteering for those boarding teams.”

“I know.” Geary grinned. “But I’ve got a lot of Marines.”

General Carabali took her orders in stride, only the smallest smile betraying her satisfaction when she learned the real reason for the aid missions. “Admiral, I recommend you send the battleships and battle cruisers carrying my Marines very close to the stricken Syndic warships. With the fleet firepower looming close, it will lessen any chance that the Syndic crews might attempt resistance that could cause further damage to their systems.”

Not to mention further damaging the Syndic crews themselves. “Good idea. We’re putting the plan together now. I’ll notify you as soon as the ships are selected, so you can brief your Marines. If you need any fleet-system expert assistance, just let me know, and I’ll round up enough ‘volunteers.’ ”

“Thank you, sir. I have a number of Marine systems personnel who should be able to fill the need, but they might require briefings on the worms they’re looking for since you say they’re based on an unusual principle.”

“Very unusual, General. I’ll make sure the systems-security officers on the assigned ships are standing by to provide those briefings.”

He once again tried to relax. Unless the star literally went nova without warning, there shouldn’t be any other threat capable of endangering his fleet. But as the last Syndic battleship went dark under the fire from Duellos’s strike force, Geary called down to the politicians. “You might inform the new Executive Council that if they assure us the surviving warships from the flotilla will not attack, then we will avoid destroying those warships.”

Rione smiled humorlessly. “I believe the new Syndic leaders are eager to ensure the continued existence of as many of the remaining warships as they can. Congratulations on your victory, Admiral.”

“Thank you. I’m counting on you to turn that victory into peace.”

“I’ll do what I can.”

The next several hours had enough distractions to pass fairly quickly as elements of the Alliance fleet closed on some of the derelict Syndic battleships and began sending over Marine Assistance Teams, which didn’t appear to vary all that much in composition, armor, and armament from Marine Assault Squads. “A MAT has a primarily noncombat mission and a MAS has a primary combat mission,” General Carabali explained. “Of course, each is configured so that a MAT can switch to carrying out the mission of a MAS, and vice versa.”

“Basically, then,” Geary said, “they’re exactly the same thing with different names.”

“No, sir,” Carabali replied seriously. “They’re different things with exactly the same capabilities. Tactical instructions are very clear on that.”

Debating semantics with a Marine who had official definitions on her side didn’t seem like a winning way to spend time, so Geary accepted whatever logic was at work and went back to watching the Marines comb through the wrecks of the Syndic battleships. He gave in to temptation a few times and pulled up images from some of the Marines, command and control video that offered the exact view those Marines saw through their helmet visors. But the interior of every Syndic battleship looked about the same, intensive damage having reduced the wrecks to an ugly sameness. Where surviving Syndic sailors were found alive but marooned without working escape pods, the Marines insisted that the Syndics accompany them off the derelicts, which (General Carabali assured Geary) was not at all the same as taking the Syndics prisoner.

“Most systems on the battleships were destroyed, and those that still functioned had been wiped clean when the crew abandoned ship,” Carabali eventually reported. “But the fleet-system code monkeys had told us that these unusual worms would not be affected by normal system wipes or sanitizing, and they were right. We found traces of those worms in a number of places.”

So Boyens hadn’t withheld information about the alien worms. It seemed the Syndics really didn’t know about them. “What systems were affected?”

“We can’t be certain,” Carabali admitted. “The enemy battleships were so shot up that functions had been automatically routed by damage-control routines through any available processor and internal server or network. As a result, we can’t isolate which specific subsystems on the Syndic ships were originally infected by the worms.”

“Thank you, General. Excellent work.”

“Will there be more work for my Marines, sir? Somewhere on a planet’s surface?”

“I don’t know, General. I’ll let you know as soon as I know.”

Geary rubbed his eyes again, wishing he could get some real rest. He had retired to his stateroom, but the compartment felt more like a prison than a refuge just then. How long would the politicians talk? The politicians had hauled CEO Boyens out of his confinement to assist them, which might or might not be a good sign.

Calling up a display, he pulled out the scale to see what was happening. Near where the hypernet gate had been, the mass of merchant ships carrying FACs still hung almost motionless, as if waiting for orders even though their mission had been completely overtaken by events and even though there was no longer a hypernet gate through which attackers could arrive to be ambushed. The lone HuK that had arrived via the hypernet gate before its collapse had begun transiting across the edge of the star system toward the jump point for Mandalon, but at a velocity that suggested it didn’t expect to receive orders to jump anytime soon.

Captain Smyth on Tanuki had been a whirlwind of activity, directing the other auxiliaries to close on the most badly damaged warships and provide extra assistance in fixing the most serious damage.

Geary had spoken to Commander Lavona on Adroit, formally appointing her commanding officer until further notice and hinting broadly that he wanted the investigation into Captain Kattnig’s death completed very soon and what he expected the results to be. Lavona had seemed more than pleased to follow Geary’s lead on the matter. “I don’t know why things happened the way they did in the battle, but he was a good officer, Admiral.”

“He’ll be remembered that way,” Geary promised.

Geary watched his fleet move, scanned status reports on casualties and damage and repair status, and waited, feeling oddly impotent for a fleet admiral.

When the summons for his presence in the negotiation room finally came, Geary deliberately paused to check his uniform, then walked with a measured pace through the passageways of Dauntless until he reached the secure compartment near the intelligence spaces. Marines stood sentry outside, some of them providing security and some of them the guards who had brought Boyens here and would return him to confinement afterward. Inside the room, the Alliance senators and Syndic CEO Boyens were seated around the table. No virtual presences or active comm screens showed any Syndic leaders or negotiators. Costa appeared belligerent and stubborn, Sakai slightly uncertain, and Rione as usual was masking her true feelings. Syndic CEO Boyens simply seemed depressed.

Rione slid a data unit toward him as Geary took a seat. “We have an agreement. The new leaders of the Syndicate Worlds have signed on to terms essentially matching those the Alliance grand council proposed.”

The news was so much at variance with the expressions around the table that Geary had to think through it twice to be sure that he had heard right. “Isn’t that good?”

Sakai nodded. “It’s very good, Admiral.” He frowned a bit, his eyes meeting Geary’s. “What you see is in part a sense of disbelief. None of us can quite accept that formal hostilities between the Alliance and the Syndicate Worlds will finally come to an end. War between us has been a fact of life for as long as any of us have lived.”

One of the words caught Geary’s attention. “Formal hostilities?”

“Yes.” Costa let the one word drip acid. “The Syndic leaders, the former ones, pushed their planets too hard. The new leaders have confessed that as best they can tell what we saw at Atalia, at Parnosa, and here is happening in pockets all over Syndic space. Rebellion. Revolution. In some cases anarchy.”

“The Syndicate Worlds,” Rione continued, “are falling apart. We drove the last nail into the coffin of the Syndicate Worlds when we wrecked the flotilla here. By so doing we eliminated the last major mobile force responding to the orders of central authority.”

“It wasn’t responding to orders from central authority before you destroyed it,” Boyens said in dejected tones.

“Granted. In any event, that flotilla was the last existing means by which central authority might have suppressed the factors tearing apart the bonds that have long held worlds and peoples in check. The process is playing out at varying rates all across Syndic space, but the bottom line is that the new leaders of the Syndicate Worlds no longer control all that used to be the Syndicate Worlds. It will also complicate the return of Alliance prisoners of war, and the fleet may well have to take actions to ensure individual star systems abide by this agreement to return and account for all prisoners.”

He finally understood the expressions. “Then the treaty means nothing.”

Sakai shook his head. “No, Admiral, it’s not that bad. We no longer need fear attack from forces operating under the control of the Syndicate Worlds.”

“But the successor powers to the Syndicate Worlds are another matter,” Costa spat. “The Syndics here don’t have a good handle on what’s happening everywhere else in Syndic space, former Syndic space, that is, but they do know individual star systems and blocks of star systems are breaking away. They’re going to try to maintain the Syndicate Worlds, but the odds of that being anything like the old Syndicate Worlds in terms of size and strength are pretty low.”

“None of the successor powers have enough strength to constitute a threat to the Alliance,” Sakai said.

“Not yet,” Costa replied. “But there are wealthy former Syndic star systems with extensive shipbuilding facilities, the means, in time, to create their own fleets for defense or for conquest.”

Geary rubbed his forehead with his palms, thinking it through. “The big war is over, but we have smaller security threats all through Syndic space.”

“Which we can’t let boil over into bigger threats that might affect the Alliance over time.” Costa scowled at the table. “Which isn’t to say that a bigger threat isn’t still out there.” Costa rapped hard on the controls before her. “A Syndic courier ship arrived in this star system not long ago. Its transmission was relayed to us by the new leaders of the Syndicate Worlds, along with a request for assistance. One minute they’re trying to kill us, the next they’re pleading for help.”

An image of a Syndic CEO appeared over the table. Contrary to the outward calm and arrogance that Geary was used to seeing, this CEO appeared to be openly despairing. “We have issued numerous requests for defensive support that have gone unanswered. Now we are in urgent need of assistance. We have received an ultimatum from the enigma race, demanding that humanity totally evacuate this star system.”

“Enigma race?” Geary asked. “That’s what the Syndics call the aliens?”

Boyens nodded. “It didn’t seem to be an important piece of information. If it’s any consolation, only three of the new Executive Council members had any knowledge of the aliens before this. The others had never been cleared for the information. That’s CEO Gwen Iceni of Midway Star System on the screen, by the way. A decent, good person despite the CEO rank, if you’ll accept my judgment of her.”

CEO Iceni was still speaking. “The ultimatum doesn’t allow any room for negotiation or compromise, and all attempts to contact the enigma race have gone unanswered except for reiteration of the demands. Aside from the fixed defenses within this star system, we have only a few minor mobile combat forces available. The flotilla once maintained in this region is gone, I’ve been told. Everything else was also stripped from this border and sent to fight the Alliance. Now we have no effective means of defending ourselves, but it’s impossible for us to get even half the humans here out of this star system before the enigma race’s deadline. We require help, everything you can send. Otherwise, most of the population will still be here and nearly defenseless when the ultimatum expires and the enigma race arrives to seize possession of this star system. We will fight, but we can’t hope to win unless we get help.”

The image vanished, replaced by a plain text document laying out the alien demands along with a deadline, which Geary saw was just over three weeks away.

Rione spoke into the quiet that followed the end of the transmission. “Another thing we feared has come to pass. The aliens are seeking to expand into Syndic space, taking advantage of Syndic weakness.”

“Seeking to expand into human space,” Sakai corrected. “Part of humanity is weakened, but every gain these aliens achieve will come at the expense of all humanity’s power to confront them later.”

“It’s a long way from that border to the Alliance,” Costa grumbled.

“That depends how you measure it,” Rione said. “In light-years? Yes. In jumps? Still a long distance. But by hypernet? Four weeks’ travel time.”

“Close enough,” Sakai agreed.

Costa frowned some more. “The grand council can consider the situation and decide what to do.”

“We don’t have time for that,” Sakai insisted. “The ultimatum will have expired before we could return from a journey back to Alliance space.”

“That’s too bad for the Syndics. The grand council—”

“Has already granted Admiral Geary the authority to make decisions regarding confronting the aliens,” Rione broke in. “We here can offer him advice, but he has the authority, granted by the full council, to decide on his course of action.”

And now everybody was looking at him again. Geary felt a sudden nostalgia for the old days, when he was just another officer, able himself to look toward whoever had gotten stuck with having to deal with whatever mess had arisen. But ever since the Syndic surprise attack at Grendel, ever since the days in Grendel leading up to that attack, everybody had been looking to him. Funny how he hadn’t gotten used to it.

He had known that the aliens might move. Now he had a specific situation to deal with, and a fleet that had finally won its war but would soon learn that another enemy needed to be faced.

There was someone else Geary could ask questions of, though, and he turned to face Boyens. “Why there? Why that particular star system? Why do the aliens want it first?”

“Because of where it is.” Boyens called up a display of that region of Syndic space, pointing to a star at the border with the aliens. “Midway Star System has that name because it’s so well positioned relative to other stars. From Midway, ships can jump directly to eight other star systems. It’s an excellent waypoint.”

Geary felt his jaw tighten as he studied the display. “Which makes it the defensive hinge for that entire sector, doesn’t it? If the aliens control Midway, they can threaten those eight other star systems and force their evacuation. The entire border defense falls apart.”

“One of the eight star systems is already under alien control, but that’s pretty much right. Too many star systems would be within jump range for us to defend. We’d have to fall back all along the border until we could establish a new line where jump ranges limited the number of star systems directly threatened.”

“We?” Costa asked sharply.

Boyens flushed slightly. “I meant the Syndicate Worlds.”

“There isn’t any Syndicate Worlds now.”

“That situation isn’t settled yet, especially in places like the border, but if we have to, we’ll form a new grouping of star systems along the border. We can’t afford to let that area break apart. Individual star systems couldn’t muster the resources to defend the region.”

“By ‘we,’” Rione said, “you mean this time the populations of the star systems in the border area.”

“That’s right.” Boyens glared at the display. “Whatever’s left of them after this. Look, I know how you feel about us, and how you feel about me. But we have a common enemy here, a reason to stand together.”

“Why are they your enemy?” Sakai asked. “How has the Syndicate Worlds dealt with this enigma race?”

“I don’t know everything that’s happened,” Boyens insisted, “especially in the early years a century ago. I know we’ve been trying to learn their secrets, but as far as I know, we’ve never succeeded.”

“You provoked them,” Costa charged. “And now you want us to save your sorry souls from the fates you brought upon yourselves.”

“I don’t know everything we’ve done! But what does it matter? Whatever it was is history, done and gone beyond changing. Now, today, countless innocent humans will suffer if you don’t do something.”

Rione had been tapping controls softly and finally looked at Boyens. “It appears that if this star system is taken by the aliens, you’ll have to abandon more than twenty other star systems in order to reestablish a defensible border.”

Boyens stared at the display, then nodded. “Something like that. Several billion people would have to be pulled out.”

“Do you have enough shipping to do that?”

“In the border region? No. In all of Syndic space? I don’t know. I doubt it. We can’t draw on it now anyway.”

“What happens to humans left on planets the aliens occupy?”

“I don’t know. Nobody knows. There’s never been any contact, any evidence, any trace of them. Everything we sent in to try to find out something vanished itself without any trace as well.”

No one spoke for a while, then Rione turned her face to Geary. “Do we have a choice?”

“What do you think of that ultimatum?” Geary asked in reply. “Does it match what the other CEO said about it?”

“Yes. Blunt, direct, unequivocal, and not a thing in it that provides any clues to how the aliens think. It could have been drafted by a human.”

“Maybe it was, since the Syndics don’t know what happened to humans captured by the aliens.”

Sakai stared at the text of the ultimatum. “Prisoners? Slaves? Servants? Guests? Pets? If only we knew which of those applied.”

“You forgot ‘dead,’” Rione said in a quiet voice. “In any number of possible ways. We need the answer to that question. Without it, we have no way of knowing if peaceful coexistence is possible.”

“Peaceful?” Costa asked scornfully. “Whatever they are, peace seems unlikely. You saw what they did at Kalixa! They’re inhuman!”

Rione gazed back at Costa. “I recall some who argued we should use the hypernet gates as weapons despite knowing the devastation they would cause. The former leaders of the Syndics did make such a decision. Were these aliens to turn out to be human, it wouldn’t bring me any comfort.”

Costa flushed but directed her attention back to Geary. “Well, Admiral, what will you do?”Give thanks that I never got involved in politics. Outwardly, Geary just gestured toward the ultimatum and the star display. “I want to talk to some of my officers before I make any decisions.” He started to get up, then focused on Boyens again. “Is there anything else you can tell us? The more I know, the more likely I am to decide to go to the aid of those people.”

“My people,” Boyens muttered. “I’ve told you what I know. Except one thing. You’ve accused us of provoking the enigma race, of causing their hostility toward humanity. I told you that I don’t know what the Syndicate Worlds did in the first decades after contact, and that was the truth. But our orders for the last decade at least have been to avoid doing anything that might incite the aliens, anything that might increase tensions or cause problems. I always believed that was because we couldn’t afford to fight on two fronts at once. Maybe there was another reason. But we haven’t done anything in a long time.”

“Perhaps these aliens have long memories,” Sakai said.

Boyens stared at him, then nodded. “Maybe. I won’t swear nothing happened. But I don’t know of anything. Certainly nothing recent.”

“There are compartmentalized activities,” Rione noted. “Actions kept from the knowledge of even those operating in the same regions. Would you have known of those?”

Geary could see the hesitation in Boyens. He didn’t need an interrogation cell to know the Syndic CEO was trying to make up his mind whether or not to lie. But, finally, Boyens shook his head. “No. Not necessarily. But why would anyone have done such a thing?”

“Why did the Syndicate Worlds start the war with the Alliance?” Geary asked.

Boyens met his eyes. “I don’t know. I guess they thought they could win. I don’t know why they thought that.”

“Surely there is speculation among Syndicate Worlds’ CEOs as to the reasons?” Rione said.

“Not all that much. It doesn’t matter. Didn’t matter. It mattered a century ago, when they made the stupid decision to start the war. If we talked about it, that’s all we said. It was stupid. But the reasons the war started ceased to matter a long time ago. We were stuck with it, that was all, and nobody knew how to stop it.” The Syndic CEO lowered his head, but not before they saw his pained expression. “Believe me, some of us wanted to stop it, but since we didn’t know how, we had to keep fighting.”

“Thank you. Admiral, will you have your Marines escort CEO Boyens back to his room?” Rione waited until Boyens had left with his escort, then sighed. “My advice is to go to the defense of the former Syndic border. If we let it crumble, and allow these aliens to establish control of numerous former Syndic star systems, the mending may be beyond every capability the Alliance possesses.”

Sakai nodded. “This is my advice as well.”

“It’s not mine. We have bled enough because of the Syndics,” Costa declared. “They got themselves into this. They can get themselves out of it.”

“And if they fail?” Sakai asked. “Won’t the Alliance be forced to deal with the results of that failure sooner or later?”

“The Syndics held us off for a century,” Costa said. “If they really want to confront these aliens, they’ll do it instead of asking us to clean up their mess. We’ve lost enough men and women, and plenty of children as well, in this war. We’ve nearly bankrupted the Alliance. We did that because we had to do it. We don’t have to get involved in a Syndic dispute with an alien race of unknown motivations and power. We don’t have to make a stupid decision to start another war.” The reference to the folly of the Syndic leaders a century ago was too obvious to miss.

“If we make the decision now not to go to that star system,” Rione said, “then we foreclose other options for dealing with these aliens. We won’t even be able to make direct contact with them unless the Syndics agree to allow that. Going to that star system retains our ability to decide what to do. Not going means leaving events up to whatever the aliens and the Syndics do, and personally, I have no trust regarding either of those parties. The Alliance needs a seat at the table, and that means going to Midway.”

“Just our presence may eliminate the alien threat,” Sakai agreed. “If they are moving because of Syndic weakness, a show of strength may be all that is required to stop them.”

“Read your history!” Costa said. “Countless wars have begun because someone thought a show of strength would be all that was needed!”

“I did not say it was certain to resolve the matter. I suggested that it might deal with the problem. If it doesn’t, there will still be alternatives to fighting.”

“Do you think an Alliance fleet will back down in the face of a hostile force?”

“That depends,” Rione said, “on who is leading that fleet. Admiral Geary has not stated his own thoughts, but he is aware of our own positions now. I suggest that we grant him time to consider our options and consult with his own trusted advisers.” She nodded to Geary, as did Sakai, and, after a moment, a clearly reluctant Costa did as well.

Geary nodded back politely, trying to keep his own feelings hidden. He already felt that going to Midway was a necessity but wanted to speak to other fleet officers before deciding, and knew he had to bring up something else. “Did the Syndics provide any clues as to who sent the order to collapse the hypernet gate here?”

Sakai shook his head. “They claimed not to know and said there is no record anywhere within their systems of any such order going out from anywhere, even from the flotilla before it was destroyed.”

“Who else would have tried to destroy this fleet?” Costa demanded.

“I think we’ve just been talking about who else, Senator,” Geary said. “A hypernet gate collapses with no sign of a signal sent to it. We’ve seen it before. It could have happened here, and it could have happened before the catastrophic-fail routines were deactivated. I’ve confirmed that the Syndic ships have alien worms in their systems. That would have told the aliens we were here, but fortunately not in time for the aliens to collapse the gate before the catastrophic-collapse routine was deactivated.”

“Then,” Sakai said in a low voice, as Costa stared at Geary, “we are already at war with them, as are the Syndics, even though the great majority of the human race has no idea they even exist.”

“Wars can be ended, Senator,” Geary replied before he left.

Fifteen minutes later he sat in the fleet conference room, accompanied by the real presence of Tanya Desjani and the virtual presences of Captain Duellos and Captain Tulev. He explained the treaty first, pausing as he saw the reaction sweep through the three other officers.

Duellos closed his eyes for a moment. “I never thought to see this day.”

“Too long coming,” Tulev murmured. “Far too long coming, but it is here. The witch is singing.”

“What?” Geary asked. “The witch?”

“The witch is singing,” Desjani repeated, looking as if she were trying to blink away tears. “It means it’s over.”

“No, the witch is dead means it’s over. Or, the fat lady sings means it’s over.”

Duellos opened his eyes and gave Geary a skeptical look. “The fat lady?”

“Yes.”

“What fat lady?”

“I don’t know. It’s just a saying.”

“What witch?” Desjani asked. “Why did she die?”

“I don’t know that, either. All I know is a century ago those were separate sayings, and somehow you’ve combined them.”

“Perhaps there was a fat witch who liked to sing,” Duellos suggested. He laughed, and so did Desjani. Even Tulev smiled a bit.

Geary understood, then. They were giddy with joy, overwhelmed at hearing that the war would finally end. The Alliance senators had been subdued in their own reactions, concerned by the remaining problems, but then to them the war itself had been a distant thing. Unlike the politicians, the fleet officers had been dealing with the death and destruction firsthand.

But now he had to tell them that while the war might be ending, total peace was still a distant goal.

Something in his expression must have given that away to Desjani, whose smile faded into concern. “What is it? The aliens?”

“Yes, as well as the fact that we’re going to have a fragmented region where the enemy used to be. Lots of problems in human space, and the aliens trying to take advantage of that.” The levity drained from the other three officers as they listened, replaced by a searching appraisal of the information. “Captain Tulev, I would appreciate your frank feelings on this matter.”

Tulev gazed back impassively, giving no outward clue that his entire family, every relation, had died decades ago in a massive Syndic bombardment of his home world. “You ask me if we should aid those who caused so much death and destruction to our own?” He sat for a moment, unspeaking, then sighed. “My ancestors long ago told me to protect others from the Syndics, but to be willing to forgive lest hate destroy my soul as war destroyed all else I once had.”

“Tanya?”

“What?” she asked, looking angry now.

“Recommendations. I want to know what you think.”

“I think it sucks. Sir.” Desjani leaned forward, exhaling in exasperation. “I can’t find fault with the analysis. At least twenty star systems. That’s a lot, and some of those star systems are prime territory. I wish we knew more about these aliens. How could the Syndics have failed to learn much of anything in a century of contact?”

“It would be nice to know what their weaponry is like,” Geary agreed. “Or anything much about their ships.”

“I have a bad feeling that we’re going to have to find out the hard way, aren’t we?” Desjani turned an irate look on him. “The alternative is to allow something we know little about to grab a significant chunk of human territory.”

“Yeah.” Geary kept his eyes on the representation of Midway Star System floating above the table. “How do you think the fleet will react?”

“It depends what you tell them. Say we’re going to help the Syndics? That would go over very poorly.”

“Protecting humanity? How would the fleet like that?”

She made a face. “Not as badly, but the humanity in question are Syndics. Same problem. Defend, protect, those are all sort of passive things anyway. This fleet believes in going on the attack.”

He nodded. “We’re going to kick alien butt?”

Desjani suddenly grinned. “The aliens who messed with humanity. You have to give the fleet reasons to know these enigma whatevers have already threatened the Alliance, that they tried to kill us recently with that hypernet gate.” Her smile faded. “But if the fleet thinks this is the prelude to another all-out war, enthusiasm will be very limited.”

Duellos had been studying the ultimatum. “Whatever they are, they seem to have a good grasp of human legalese. That document feels like any number of human legal documents I’ve read.”

“That’s what the politicians thought, too,” Geary said.

“Maybe they’ve captured some human lawyers,” Desjani suggested.

“That might be why they want to destroy us, then,” Duellos agreed. “What would we do if alien lawyers descended on us?”

“I think they already have. Maybe all lawyers are aliens.”

“I know quite a few who could be.”

Desjani snorted, then shook her head. “Admiral, you’re asking if we should fight these things. We’re already fighting them. They cost us at Lakota, remember?”

“Yeah.” He would never forget having to watch as Indefatigable, Defiant, and Audacious sacrificed themselves to save the rest of the fleet. “I guess we owe it to those who died to confront the aliens. One more reason to go.”

Duellos nodded. “More than that, this Boyens, you say, is not unredeemable.”

“He seems, well, roughly like our own politicians.”

“That’s not exactly an endorsement,” Desjani muttered.

“Nonetheless,” Duellos continued, “if we can save the Syndic border region and help the star systems there form their own political coalition to replace the Syndic authorities, we could have a friendly power in that part of space. A minor power, to be sure, but immensely better than the entire border region fracturing into individual star systems.”

“Having such a power agree to our assistance would grant us access to the region it controls,” Tulev agreed. “This would be vital to the future defense of the Alliance. We must be able to meet with these aliens directly.”

“They don’t meet with any humans directly,” Desjani grumbled.

“Maybe we can change that,” Geary said. “You’re all in agreement, then?” Duellos and Tulev nodded, then eventually Desjani nodded as well though with a resigned expression. “Thank you. It ought to be interesting when I present all of this at a fleet conference. I really don’t know how it will be taken.”

“They’ll follow you,” Tulev stated bluntly. “You led them out of hell. You led them to this moment, when the war will finally end.”

“But now I have to tell them that I’ve withheld critical information from them, information about a serious threat to this fleet and to the Alliance.”

Desjani and Duellos hesitated, plainly trying to think of what to say, but Tulev immediately shook his head. “I do not often have the pleasure of telling an admiral he is wrong. What critical information has been withheld? Guesses, suppositions, possibilities. We did not even know for certain that this enigma race existed until the Syndics confirmed it.”

“We avoided star systems with hypernet gates because of the threat from them,” Geary pointed out.

“We avoided such star systems before we had any idea of aliens, Admiral, because the Syndics could too easily shift forces to them using their hypernet.” Tulev waved at the star display. “How would any of your orders to the fleet have been different, how would our path home have been different, if you had never suspected that the aliens existed?”

Geary stared at the display, mentally replaying the long retreat home. “I honestly can’t think of anything that would have been done differently. We would even have developed the safe-fail systems to protect Alliance hypernet gates from Syndic attack after we realized the threat a collapsing gate posed to its own star system.”

“Exactly. You withheld nothing that would have altered your actions or your orders.” Tulev leaned back, smiling thinly for a moment. “You need have nothing on your conscience in that regard.”

Duellos raised an eyebrow at Tulev, then nodded. “Captain Tulev is right, Admiral. Even at Lakota we learned of the alien intervention after the initial actions, so that knowledge had no effect on your decisions during the actions.”

Geary rubbed one side of his face, thinking. “You’ve got a good point, but we’ve scrubbed our warships’ systems of those alien worms. Other officers and sailors are rightly going to wonder why we didn’t tell them we believed those were of alien origin, and why they were never told that someone suspected that an intelligent alien race existed on the other side of Syndic space.”

“No, they won’t wonder,” Desjani said. “They will assume that our political leaders knew something and never told us. They won’t blame you. They’ll blame the politicians because that’s what they usually do. And how do we know they’re wrong to do so? How do we know the Alliance government truly never suspected the existence of these aliens? The Syndics certainly kept it very quiet, keeping most of their own military in ignorance. The fleet won’t blame you.”

“But—” He paused, thinking that through. Rione had said she had known nothing, and in that he believed her even though Geary was sure she would lie if she thought it necessary to protect the Alliance. But Rione had admitted that the grand council could easily have known things not shared with the rest of the senate. “All right. That’s possible.” Geary noticed a look on Desjani’s face he couldn’t decipher. “What?”

She stayed silent, but eventually Duellos sighed. “Captain Desjani stated a truth, that the fleet will not blame you. Not in this. Not in other matters. They believe in you too much. Therefore, someone else must be to blame when something goes wrong. In some matters, that will be the politicians. In other matters, it will be those giving you military advice.”

That took a moment to sink in. “You? The three of you?”

“Are you really surprised?” Desjani demanded. “You’ve heard that clumsy oaf Badaya. As long as I’m doing the right things, you should be happy and aimed in the right direction. Whose fault is it if you’re unhappy?” She almost yelled that, then subsided, staring at the table surface, her face red.

“Or if you fail,” Duellos added to break the renewed silence. “Nobody expects me to keep you happy, though.”

“You are a jovial man, Roberto. Perhaps you should try,” Tulev suggested in the closest thing to a joke that Geary had ever heard from him. “Admiral, it is simply the other side of the coin. Many look at us and see those you trust the most. It is a status many envy. But if you fail, everyone will assume we have failed you.”

Wonderful. He had tried to avoid showing favoritism, yet his reliance on certain officers for advice had apparently been obvious enough. What else might have been obvious?

Desjani, her gaze still fixed on the table, spoke in hard tones. “I have no fear of being held to account for my professional advice to the admiral.”

“Nor should you,” Duellos agreed.

Another awkward silence descended, which Geary finally cut short. “Thank you. I’ll call the fleet meeting in about an hour and break the news. I’m very fortunate to have had the three of you serving with me.”

The images of Duellos and Tulev rendered salutes, that of Duellos almost jaunty, while Tulev’s salute was steady and precise, then both men vanished from the room.

Desjani stood up, still not looking at him. “By your leave, sir.”

“Of course.” There were a million other things he wanted to say, at least several hundred thousand of which would have been catastrophically wrong. He couldn’t tell if even one of them would be right.

But she said more, her eyes still on the table’s surface. “You haven’t mentioned this, but I know you’ve kept your promise to me. The fleet got home, and the war is over. You made no vow to stick with this, the aliens and the mess that is becoming the former Syndicate Worlds.”

“I would not leave now. I know I’m still needed.” Geary wondered when it had all changed inside him, when he had realized that fleeing his responsibilities was no longer an action he could regard as honorable or realistic. He couldn’t simply carry out one mission and be done with it, because each new mission led into the next missions seamlessly. “I have a duty to the Alliance, and to my comrades in the fleet.”

“All of them?”

“All of them. I only wish my being here didn’t make it harder on some of those comrades, on one of those comrades in particular, who shouldn’t have to endure anything on my account.”

“I am not without fault in that. Perhaps what I endure is the price the living stars demand for … things that must remain unspoken.” She finally looked directly at him again. “What changed? Why don’t you wish to leave?”

He shrugged, uncomfortable with the question. “I’m not sure, but a big part of it was watching people like you, Duellos, and Tulev. None of you had given up, all of you kept doing your duty, even though you’d faced this war since you were born. You are all one hell of a good example of doing the right thing, of sticking to the job no matter what.”

Desjani looked away again. “Then … you’ll remain in command of the fleet, Admiral.”

“Until we return again to Alliance space, then I’ll relinquish command of the fleet and my temporary rank of admiral. I’ll be available if needed, but for a little while, at least, things will be different.”

“You’re extremely stubborn. And insane. You know that, don’t you?” She moved to leave, then looked back, a small, ironic smile twisting her lips slightly. “Do me a favor and try to look happy.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“But not too happy.”

It was easy to guess what everyone would think had happened between him and Desjani if he seemed too high-spirited all of a sudden. “Yes, ma’am.”

“And stop calling me ma’am. You outrank me.”

“Yes, Tanya.”

She glowered in exasperation for a moment, then shook her head, apparently couldn’t help another smile, and left.