Victorious

SEVEN

The Syndic flotilla hadn’t initially responded to the change in path by the Alliance fleet, but after about ten hours had turned away toward the jump point for Mandalon while also decreasing speed. “They couldn’t be more blatant about wanting us to chase them,” Geary remarked.

Desjani made a face. “It’s more taunting of us. You don’t see it that way?”

“It’s too obvious.”

“Maybe to you.” She shook her head, eyes looking somewhere into the past. “To you maneuvering around like that is just reasonable tactical positioning. But we’re used to seeing the enemy and charging straight for him, while he does the same right at us. You really haven’t understood how your maneuvering tended to drive the Syndics crazy, have you? Because it wasn’t how the game was supposed to be played. Now the Syndics are playing it back at us. ‘Here we are, try to catch us and kill us.’ The Syndics are hoping that we’ll get as angry as they would and head for them, trying to force a proper battle.”

He had never thought in terms of proper and improper ways to fight, just of smart ways and dumb ways. In peacetime training there had been some dumb things demanded by doctrine or whoever the current senior commander happened to be, but those had always come with an implied or open message that in actual combat things would be done differently. Maybe in peacetime it was easier to figure out what was smart, or maybe it just seemed easier because real battles and real lives weren’t on the line. “I’ve still got a lot to learn, I guess.” Desjani managed to look skeptical in a mostly respectful way as Geary continued. “In any case, it shouldn’t make much difference now whether we chase after them or not. We’re too far from any jump point to reach any of them before that flotilla would be able to jump for Mandalon.”

This time Desjani rubbed her neck, then ran some more maneuvers through the system. “The Syndic flotilla is just shy of two light-hours away from us. In theory, it’s just possible that we could head for the Tremandir jump point like bats out of hell starting about now and, factoring in all of the time delays for the Syndic leaders at the Mandalon jump point to see us start that way and send orders to the Syndic flotilla to accelerate at maximum for the Mandalon jump point, to get there as fast as possible, and the time required for the flotilla to reach the jump point, and the time needed for the Syndic leaders’ signal to reach the hypernet gate after that, and then for the shock wave to get to us, for this fleet to be able to jump for Tremandir in time. I wouldn’t want to bet my life on it, but the Syndic leaders may be trying to make absolutely, positively certain that they can get their flotilla out while leaving us no way we could escape when they collapse that hypernet gate.”

He traced some paths through the star system and saw what Desjani meant. “If we did chase that flotilla, we’d be heading back toward the Syndic leaders, reducing the time lag in which they can see what we’re doing, and we’ll be angling closer to the hypernet gate as well, slightly reducing the time before the shock wave hits. Less uncertainty for them, even if every minute wasn’t bringing their own flotilla closer to safety.” Another thought came to him then. “They’re politicians, mostly, but they’re making a military decision on when to collapse the gate.”

That brought a grin from Desjani. “They’ll probably screw it up, then.” Her smile faded. “Which could be bad for us if they screw it up in the wrong direction.”

“Yeah.” Costa was sitting in the observer’s seat at the moment but seemed to have dozed off. Instead of disturbing the senator, Geary tapped a comm control. “Madam Co-President, I’d appreciate a politician’s perspective on an issue.”

Rione listened, then shrugged. “It could go either way, Admiral. A politician deciding when to spring this trap might hesitate too long in the hope of the situation growing more and more perfect for ensuring success. I would tend to favor that option as being most likely because they must feel very safe in their battleship, able to jump to another star system whenever they want to. But it’s still possible that they might panic and launch the attack too early. It might depend in great part on whatever their military advisers are telling them.”

“What’s that likely to be?”

“Whatever they believe their superiors want to hear, and whatever they think will make their superiors do what they want them to do.” Rione’s image made a gesture in the general direction of the brig. “Look at how the Syndic CEO we’re hauling with us has tried to handle you. He tells you what he thinks will dispose you to act in certain ways and tries to avoid telling you anything else. I guarantee you that our guest CEO is acting out of habit as well as calculation.”

Geary rubbed his chin as he thought about that. “We have no way of knowing what the commander of the Syndic battleship carrying the Syndic leaders wants them to do. Any guesses as to what the CEO in charge of the flotilla might be telling them?”

It was Rione’s turn to think, twisting her mouth and frowning. “My guess, for whatever it is worth, is that he is playing it as straight as he can in an attempt to prove his continued loyalty and make up for allowing this fleet to escape the last time he encountered it.”

“Do you think he knows about the plan to collapse the gate?”

She made a derisive sound. “Would you give that information to him? If nothing else, that knowledge would be something he could try to trade to us or to some other Syndic CEOs in order to sell out his current leaders. Even if he did either of those things, we couldn’t trust him.”

“Because he murdered Admiral Bloch and the other Alliance negotiators.”

Rione shook her head, annoyed. “Because he desperately wants to defeat you. Black Jack Geary, the man who snatched away his perfect victory. If not for you, he might be one of the Syndic leaders right now.”

That brought up a new idea. “Maybe I should taunt him, personally. If we can get that Syndic flotilla to turn around and come for us, it will mess up the plans of the Syndic leaders.”

“That wouldn’t—” Rione paused, her expression thoughtful. “It might work. From the perspective of that CEO, defeating you might seem like the perfect solution. He doesn’t know that he’ll be messing up his superiors’ plan, and he’ll be thinking that if he defeats this fleet, he’ll be the hero he planned on being several months ago. Yes. Stick a knife into his ego and twist it.”

“I’ll try.” Geary leaned back, thinking. Taunting the Syndic CEO might fit in well with the plan to break off the battle-cruiser strike force. “Captain Desjani, aside from the fact that this fleet escaped him once before, what sort of things would torque off that Syndic CEO the most?”

Desjani gleefully offered some suggestions.

Geary activated a transmission aimed at the Syndic flotilla, knowing that every ship in the Syndic force would be capable of picking up his message. That would make it sting the CEO’s ego even worse. “To Shalin, the current commanding officer of the Syndicate Worlds’ flotilla in this star system. I regret that you are unwilling to face this fleet in combat, perhaps due to your failure to defeat it some months ago in this same star system. Your reluctance to fight is understandable, but the Alliance fleet is willing to give you another opportunity to engage in battle if you will cease avoiding action. The people of this star system must be wondering why a CEO with so many decorations for valor is abandoning them to their fate, but for my part I understand your unwillingness to face me again. It’s refreshing to meet a Syndic leader who cares more for the welfare of his personnel than he does for his own honor and prerogatives. If you would simply agree to surrender, I could guarantee the safety of your personnel, while you personally came to my flagship to discuss the conditions for your submission to my terms.

“Think it over, Shalin. A commander with your reputation shouldn’t have any trouble deciding what to do.

“To the honor of our ancestors. This is Fleet Admiral Geary out.”

Desjani laughed. “It might make him want to kill you, but he wants to do that already. Too bad we have to wait four hours for him to get that and see any response, but we can kill time blowing the hell out of the third planet.”

“What are you going to do for fun if you can’t devastate planets anymore?”

“I’ll have to find another hobby, I guess.”

Worlds habitable by humans that had only one climate were very rare, but the planet fifteen light-minutes out from the star was literally an ice world. Large enough to retain its atmosphere and with plentiful water, it had boasted vast oceans and seas during the relatively brief period when the planet was no longer molten but hadn’t cooled too much.

But as the planet grew cooler, and its too-distant star provided too little warmth, the oceans, seas, rivers, and lakes began freezing, and they had been frozen ever since.

Amid the fields of snow and ice were cities and estates serving a population probably numbering less than half a million, but while numerous sport and recreational sites could be seen, very little in the way of industrial locations was apparent. “I guess if you like winter sports, that would be a great place to live,” Geary commented.

Desjani tapped part of the planet’s image. “Look how they’ve smoothed large sections of the ice. They’ve got huge ice plains for racing. Imagine sailing an iceboat across a perfectly smooth field of ice a thousand kilometers long. See right there? An ice yacht. A really big one.” She snorted disdainfully. “It’s a resort planet. The damned Syndic leaders have actually maintained a resort planet next door to their primary world here.”

He tried to imagine how much money it would cost to sustain a planet dedicated to vacationing Very Important People. “We should be grateful that they spent the money on perks for themselves and not on the Syndic war effort. What kind of targets do we have?”

“Spaceports, communications hubs, a few security installations.” Desjani’s derision shaded into disgust. “I guess any industry other than luxury tourism would have spoiled the views.”

“We haven’t seen any labor camps,” Rione commented, “but it would suit the arrogance of the Syndic leaders to have Alliance POWs working at the difficult and unpleasant tasks of keeping that planet neat and pretty. We can’t assume that the Syndic CEO was just playing mind games when he claimed our captured personnel were located at important sites. I would suggest choosing targets with care. Forced laborers could be kept in single buildings, or even portions of buildings.”

“Good point.” There was no telling how many crew members from the Alliance warships once destroyed here might have been kept around as living war trophies. “How badly did Senator Costa threaten that slime on that issue?”

“I am not myself easily intimidated, but her words and their delivery would have made me reconsider my own actions,” Rione responded dryly.

“Thanks.” Suppressing renewed thoughts about the possible fate of his grandnephew Michael Geary, Geary ordered the combat systems to screen out targets that might be barracks or living areas for workers or were too close to such places. Despite Desjani’s unhappiness, that still left a small but decent batch of targets. Geary paused, then added a few spots scattered through the wide, smooth sailing areas. “Let’s also mess up their recreation a little.”

“There’s actually some liquid water in the deeper parts of the oceans, under kilometers of ice,” Desjani said. “Why don’t we punch down that deep somewhere? Just for fun?”

A hole that deep in their sailing area would seriously annoy the Syndic leaders and be a very long-lived monument to the capability of the Alliance to strike here. “Sure. Why not?” The hours spent discreetly heading for the lee of the star had been tense, wondering if the Syndic politicians might decide to trigger the hypernet gate before their own flotilla was clear just to ensure that the Alliance fleet was destroyed as well. Slamming a hole a few kilometers deep in a frozen ocean might help relieve a little of that tension. The combat systems worked up a solution for that quickly enough, using a series of kinetic rounds dropped onto the exact same spot one after the other. “Give me a double check on this firing plan, please. I want to be sure we don’t hit any spot likely to have POW forced laborers present.”

Desjani checked it over, then had one of her watch-standers do a check as well. “It looks as good as we can get, sir. We’re not that far from the planet, but they’ll still see the kinetic rounds inbound in time to evacuate targets.”

He approved the bombardment, and once again a wave of kinetic rounds burst from the ships of the Alliance fleet.

Geary pulled out the scale on his display for a moment, seeing where some of the projectiles from the first bombardment launched over two days ago were still heading for their targets in more distant parts of the star system. “All right, so much for the Syndic winter wonderland. Let’s pretend we’re heading to deal the same treatment to the main inhabited world.”

Desjani’s mood seemed to have been improved by firing the latest bombardment. “They’re trying to get us to chase them, and we’re trying to get them to chase us, but we’re both actually doing something else.”

“I asked … someone else about that, and her opinion was that CEO Shalin doesn’t know the plans of the Syndic leaders.”

His weak attempt to avoid mentioning Rione by name failed to deceive Desjani. She made another face. “It takes a politician to understand a politician,” she muttered.

Costa had come onto the bridge, her expression impassive, and had caught Geary’s statement but apparently not Desjani’s. “I agree with your informant, Admiral. I doubt if CEO Shalin has been told. He’s being punished,” she stated bluntly. “I’ve spent some time reviewing his transmission to us, getting past my own anger at his words and attitude to evaluate what he’s trying to hide about himself. Take a close look at the way he comes across. Despite the awards and the surface arrogance, it’s clear that he hasn’t been living a comfortable life lately, mentally or physically. He let you get away the last time the fleet was here. He knows he’s expendable.”

Rione raised an eyebrow at Costa. “Do you think we can cut a deal with him?”

Desjani spun in her seat, her expression controlled but her tension easy enough for Geary to read. He felt the same way. Reach an agreement with that CEO? It wasn’t just the Alliance fleet’s losses in that long-ago ambush, but rather the murder of the officers who had gone to negotiate with him. But Rione had already told him that she couldn’t see any basis for trusting Shalin, so why had she raised the possibility with Costa?

“A deal?” Costa grimaced. “I doubt it. Even if we could trust him. If I read him right, he’s the sort who when in disfavor will go to any lengths to regain favor. He’d double-cross us in a heartbeat.”

“I agree with your assessment,” Rione said.

Geary saw the other senator’s flash of pleasure at that, then realized that Rione had only asked the question so that she could publicly state agreement with Costa and thereby earn some measure of gratitude from Costa. I’ll never be a politician. I just can’t play those games. But the conversation brought up another question. “Why does he have new awards if he’s being punished? Why did the Syndics give him more medals if they’re mad at him for us getting away?”

“Consistency.” Costa waved in the general direction of Alliance space. “While the fleet was still missing, the Syndics were broadcasting propaganda that it had been completely destroyed here. If they hadn’t presented awards to the CEO in charge of their forces in that battle, it would have looked odd and called into question the claimed victory. Believe me, we were grasping at straws and would have keyed on that.”

“If that’s the reason he got those medals, it’s hard to believe that he’s actually wearing them.” Geary turned back to Desjani, who had relaxed as it became apparent that no one was going to suggest dealing with the flotilla’s CEO. “Two more hours. Then it will be too late for the Syndics to blow the gate in time to hit us.”

“It should be an interesting experience in time dilation,” Desjani replied. Her eyes went to her display again, and he knew what she was looking at, the same thing that kept drawing his gaze on his own display. The Syndic hypernet gate hung like a huge eye, watching them, playing with them, ready to unleash awesome forces like some cyclopean god out of a primitive myth. “Those hours will probably seem to take days to go by,” Desjani continued. “When are you cutting loose the strike force?”

“When we make our move for the lee of the star.” He had been putting off giving Duellos detailed orders, but that had to be done.

She nodded, and he realized that Desjani had once again subtly prodded him to get going on something he was avoiding. “The rest of the fleet can bombard more targets in fixed orbit once we’re behind the star,” Desjani observed, “but if the Syndic leaders decide to run, the strike force won’t have a chance of catching them. Even a battleship can keep out of reach of battle cruisers if it has that big a lead on them.”

“I know. That’s one of the primary issues I’m trying to resolve in my orders to Duellos. I wish we had another way to get at the Syndic leadership. I’d hoped to trap them on the second planet, but with them sitting on that battleship at the jump point, I have no personal danger leverage against them at all.” Rione had spoken before about how those most senior Syndic leaders were focused on their own self-interests, so as long as he couldn’t threaten them directly, his ability to force a decision was limited. His eyes went to the portion of his display showing the Syndic battleship, which held the members of the Syndic Executive Council. Much too distant to possibly catch unless those ships cooperated. If only there were some levers that would influence the ships they were on …

“Admiral, I—” Desjani began.

“Wait.” Geary tried to block out all distractions, seeking the idea that hovered just out reach. The battleship and the heavy cruisers. Something about them. And something about the Syndics, and the captured Syndic CEO aboard Dauntless, something Boyens had said … “Senator Costa, there are defensive forces assigned to Unity Star System, aren’t there?”

Costa nodded, frowning. “Of course.”

“Do you rotate them? Do new units come in periodically, while older ones go out to other assignments?”

A deeper frown. “No. We prefer to have units on hand whose—” Costa looked around, realizing that she had been about to remark openly on fears about the loyalty of some Alliance warships to their own government. “Units which are a known factor,” she said instead.

Geary fumbled at his controls, trying to bring up an old situation display. “Captain Desjani, I need the picture from when I assumed command of the fleet. Not the Alliance ships. The Syndics in this star system back then.”

Desjani gestured to a watch-stander, and a moment later the historical display popped up to one side of Geary. He swung the image away from the massive Syndic warship formation that had been here then, facing the Alliance fleet, ready to destroy it, and which had always occupied his attention before now. Instead, Geary zoomed in on a small part of the display distant from where the Alliance fleet had been. “Look. Orbiting the primary inhabited world.”

“A battleship and three heavy cruisers,” Desjani murmured. “That’s an interesting coincidence.”

“Isn’t it? Can we tell if that battleship and those three cruisers are the same warships now stationed near the jump point for Mandalon?”

“We can try. The hulls of supposedly identical ships tend to have small variations. Lieutenant Yuon, have the sensors do their finest-grain analysis on those Syndic warships at the jump point for Mandalon and see if they can match them to the ones orbiting the planet in this record.” Desjani was clearly curious but held her questions as the fleet sensors mulled the question for several seconds.

“Captain,” Lieutenant Yuon reported, “sensors evaluate the probability of hull matches on the three heavy cruisers of ninety-five percent, eighty-two percent, and ninety-eight percent. Hull match probability on the battleship is ninety-nine point seven percent. There’s a very high probability that those are all the same warships that were orbiting the primary inhabited world the last time we were in this star system.”

“A palace guard,” Geary said. “That battleship and those cruisers might well have been in this star system for years, then.”

Senator Costa’s frown was still present. “That would match our own policies for the defense of our highest level of government, Admiral. Why is this important?”

“Because the Syndic CEO we’re holding as a prisoner aboard Dauntless told me that the Syndics don’t like any of their warships developing personal ties to particular star systems.”

“Of course not! Not when they might be ordered to enforce order in any Syndic star system by bombarding it! But why—”

“They’ve been here for years,” Desjani interrupted. “Girl-friends, boyfriends, families, personal ties of all kinds.”

“Exactly,” Geary agreed. “Those crews were kept here because the Syndic leadership wanted ships on hand whose loyalty couldn’t be questioned. But by keeping them here so long, the Syndics broke their own policies. Those crews must care about the people in this star system. These planets aren’t targets to them, they’re the homes of individuals the Syndics on those warships are concerned about.”

Desjani smiled wickedly. “Somebody ought to tell them what the Syndic leaders are planning to do to this star system and everyone in it.”

“Yeah, somebody ought to do that. When this fleet is safe from the hypernet gate, I believe I’ll make a broadcast to every Syndic in this star system and let all of them know what their leaders planned to do before those leaders ran for safety.”

Rione leaned forward. “Do you think that battleship and those heavy cruisers might mutiny?”

“I think there’s a chance they may help us bring about a change of government in the Syndicate Worlds, yes, Madam Co-President. It’s going to depend on what the other Syndic CEOs in this star system do. They’ll learn that they are expendable, too.”

“The CEO in charge of the flotilla will not support a coup,” Costa insisted. “He knows that he will be thrown to us as a sacrifice by whoever takes over.”

That sounded very plausible. “Then he was given the job of commanding that flotilla because the Syndic leaders can be sure he will support them even though those same leaders regard him as an expendable failure.”

“Damned if he does and damned if he doesn’t,” Desjani commented with another smile. “It couldn’t happen to a nicer guy.” Her eyes narrowed, and her expression grew calculating as she looked at her display. “But if the battleship and heavy cruisers mutiny, or declare allegiance to Syndic CEOs setting up an alternative government, that means Shalin will likely go after them. He’ll have to. The current Syndic leaders are his only hope.”

Rione nodded. “Yes. We need to be prepared to go to the protection of that battleship and those cruisers.”

Desjani’s expression changed to disbelief, then revulsion. “Protect Syndic warships?”

Geary blew out an exasperated breath. The orders he would have to give Duellos were getting more complicated by the minute.

Hard as it had been to leave the bridge, Geary had gone down to his stateroom to brief Duellos, not wanting to risk anyone else hearing his conversation or spotting expressions through the privacy fields around his command seat.

Duellos sat back, apparently relaxed, but his eyes were alert and tense. “A three-way fight? That would be … interesting.”

“A mess,” Geary agreed. “Would your battle cruisers protect Syndic warships?”

“Not if I phrased it that way. However, protecting the Syndic battleship would require attacking the Syndic flotilla. That I can order my battle cruisers to do and not worry about their following orders.” Duellos sighed. “Part of me just wants to destroy every Syndic warship in the star system and let the Syndics sort out whatever remains afterward.”

“We need someone to negotiate with.” Geary hesitated, not wanting to say the next thing, but knowing he had to. “If it comes down to a choice between destroying that Syndic battleship or letting it be retaken by the Syndic flotilla, we need to ensure that those Syndic leaders don’t get away.” No, that wasn’t good enough. He had to state his orders clearly, not leave any ambiguities that might protect his own butt and leave Duellos uncertain what was expected of him. “That means destroy the battleship.”

Duellos nodded calmly. “Who decides if we’ve reached the point where the battleship must be destroyed?”

“You’ll probably be light-hours distant from me. It’ll be your call, based on what’s happening. Whatever you decide, I will back you.”

“The last time an admiral told me that, I had my doubts as to his sincerity,” Duellos observed. “But he wasn’t you. I’ll try to ensure that your trust in me isn’t misplaced.”

“Same here.” Geary glanced at the depiction of the strike force floating over the table between him and Duellos’s image. “I’ve given you three squadrons of light cruisers and five squadrons of destroyers to back up your nine battle cruisers. I don’t want to send so many that your strike force seems too attractive a target, but do you think that’s enough?”

“It’ll depend on what happens, but it will certainly be enough to at least deal with anything even if we can’t outright defeat whatever we run into.” Duellos paused. “Depending on what Captain Kattnig does.”

“Try to keep him on a tight leash. He’s way too eager to fight.”

“There’s no such thing in this fleet, Admiral.” Duellos shrugged. “I’ll do my best. The Adroit-class ships won’t do well if they’re thrown into a frontal assault.”

“The last scout battleship was destroyed in action, but now I’ve got the Adroit and her sister ships to worry about. When is the government going to figure out that saving money by building ships that aren’t big enough and carry too little capability isn’t really smart when it comes to survival and effectiveness?”

“If you become dictator, that’s one of the things you’ll have to put a stop to.” Duellos grinned to show he wasn’t serious. “Kattnig has fought well in the past. I don’t think he’ll do anything stupid.”

“He shouldn’t. Did you get a chance to review his last action?”

Another nod from Duellos. “At Beowulf? Nasty business, but Kattnig distinguished himself.”

“Nasty” was a mild word for a battle in which the two sides had been pretty evenly matched and had slugged it out until the Alliance slowly gained an advantage that eventually produced the sort of victory that was as painful as many defeats in terms of lost ships and personnel. “His ship got beat into scrap metal but kept fighting,” Geary agreed. Afterward, Kattnig had been focused on the welfare of his surviving crew to such an extent that medical sedation had been ordered. Again, nothing to be ashamed of after such a fight, the fleet medical staff had cleared Kattnig for further service, and in Geary’s eyes, being concerned about casualties wasn’t exactly a black mark.

There was an inconsistency between that record and Kattnig’s apparent eagerness for battle that bothered Geary. “Just keep an eye on him. I’m going to cut loose the strike force in less than two hours, when the rest of the fleet heads for the lee of the star. I don’t know what’s going to happen, but we’re all going to have to react to whatever it is. Good luck.”

“If the hypernet gate collapses while my ships are out there, I won’t have much time to worry about deciding what to do,” Duellos pointed out. “Otherwise, I’ll try not to disappoint you.”

“There’s no chance of your disappointing me, Roberto.”

Duellos grinned, stood up, and saluted, then his image disappeared, and Geary returned to the bridge of Dauntless.

The impacts of the bombardment hitting the ice world were a pleasant diversion from waiting for any sign of impending collapse by the hypernet gate. The multiple rocks striking in succession at a single point near the middle of one of the frozen oceans made for the most spectacular sight, the fountain of vaporized water rising higher and higher in the atmosphere as each impact drove deeper, the immense heat generated by each rock falling from space turning ice directly to steam, which vented upward through the kilometer-wide hole being drilled by the bombardment. After the steam dissipated in the dry air of the frigid planet, a multispectrum surveillance satellite the fleet had left near the planet managed to get a look down the hole, but the result disappointed Desjani. “There’s liquid water at the bottom, but most of it probably came from the walls of the hole melting from the residual heat of the impacts. There’s no way of telling if we actually hit water under the ice.”

“Sorry about that.” Geary commiserated. “That’s still one hell of a hole.”

“Can you imagine what it’ll be like when the sides finish refreezing? High angle, smooth, almost frictionless drops kilometers high. But I bet you the Syndics don’t thank us for creating such an excellent site for extreme sports competitions.”

“No, probably not, especially with the ice ocean fractured for hundreds of kilometers around the site.” It seemed silly to be joking about such things, but it beat staring obsessively at the hypernet gate.

One hour to go before the maneuver toward the star’s lee. If the hypernet gate collapsed now or in the next half hour, it would be a cruel irony with safety so close. Despite an irrational worry that stepping off of Dauntless’s bridge would result in something bad happening almost instantly, Geary took a few moments to go to the small rooms near the center of the ship where individuals could worship. At times like that, asking for whatever help and mercy could be granted seemed like a good idea. It certainly didn’t hurt. He tried to reach out to Michael Geary, but neither his brother nor his grandnephew seemed to respond. Finally, he reached to snuff out the ceremonial candle, but paused before doing so. “I got your message, Mike, from your granddaughter Jane. I miss you, too.”

A few minutes later he was back on the bridge, watching the representation of the fleet on the maneuvering display crawl across the vast distances of the star system, the point at which they could dive for safety behind the star still agonizingly distant.

The last five minutes seemed to last an eternity. Dauntless’s bridge was totally silent, with everyone present seeming to muffle even their breathing. Only Desjani seemed unaffected, scrolling through routine paperwork, but when Geary used his fleet-commander viewing authority to take a look at the work Desjani was doing, he saw that she was flipping through pages too fast actually to read them.

The count hit zero, Geary took a very deep breath as he realized that he had not been breathing for at least thirty seconds, then he tapped his comm control as he whispered a quick prayer of thanks. “All units in the Alliance fleet, this is Admiral Geary. At time two five accelerate to point one five light speed, turn down zero four degrees and come port three six degrees. Units designated as part of Strike Force One are to shift to tactical control of Captain Duellos on Inspire at time three zero.”

Then it was a matter of waiting as the signal crawled outward at the speed of light, taking seconds and even minutes to reach the farthest units in the fleet, then waiting some more as every ship acknowledged the order, their symbols flashing to indicate readiness, then waiting for time two five.

Desjani pointed at her maneuvering watch-stander, who punched the execute command for the velocity and course changes. Dauntless yawed slightly over and down, then her main propulsion units kicked in as every other ship in the fleet followed suit.

“In about four hours and twenty-three minutes,” Desjani observed, “the Syndic leaders are going to start getting very unhappy.”

“We’re not in the clear, yet,” Geary reminded her. “If the Syndics already blew the gate, we can still get caught by the blast.”

“It’s not that I have any great respect for their intelligence, but surely even they aren’t stupid enough to blow away that flotilla when it doesn’t look like they need to.” She watched the ships of the strike force turning and accelerating away from the rest of the fleet. “How much longer until you inform this star system of what its noble leaders are planning?”

“Just a little while, yet. I want the Syndic Executive Council to see us heading on our new vector, start trying to figure out what it means, then have my message further confuse and pressure them.”

Desjani glanced at the back of the bridge, where Sakai was sitting quietly, but with his eyes watching everything. “Speaking of confusing things and pressuring people, did the politicians try to mess with your statement?”

“Costa suggested I run the wording past them, Sakai was ambivalent, and Rione was strongly against it, saying that I needed to sound like myself, not like some politician.”

“Damn. I’m agreeing with that woman again.”

“It does take getting used to.” Geary sat silently for a little while, trying to get in the right frame of mind, then checked the time. Good enough. His statement wouldn’t arrive at the ships carrying the Syndic leaders until after they saw most of the Alliance fleet on its way to safety, and would reach most other occupants of the star system well before that. His taunting of CEO Shalin at the Syndic flotilla hadn’t produced any apparent results as of yet. It would be interesting to see what this message did.

Two long, slow breaths to calm himself and prepare for speaking, then Geary triggered the circuit to broadcast to every Syndic receiver within the star system. “People of the Syndicate Worlds, this is Admiral John Geary. It is my sad duty to report that your leaders are planning not only to abandon you, but to annihilate every living thing in this star system in an attempt to destroy my fleet.

“You have a system installed on your hypernet gate that was designed to reduce any energy discharge created by the collapse of the gate. However, that same system can be used in reverse, to increase the level of the energy discharge and ensure that the resulting destruction would be close to that caused by your star going nova. Your own leaders intend taking this action, trading all of your lives for the chance to catch the Alliance fleet in the same destruction, and have only delayed in it because they first wish to have their flotilla of Syndicate Worlds’ warships in this star system reach a jump point and jump to another star. Instead of using the flotilla to defend you, they want to save it so they can use it to enforce their rule in other star systems.

“Your own leaders don’t fear being caught in the destruction because they are out of harm’s way aboard the battleship lingering at the jump point for Mandalon, from which they will jump to safety, leaving you all to die. There would be no witnesses to what happened here, every human dead and every device destroyed, so your leaders could continue pursuing a war with no purpose.

“We have offered to negotiate an end to the war, and the terms the Alliance has offered your Executive Council have already been broadcast throughout this star system. At the conclusion of this message, I will have them repeated, and you will see that they are aimed at ending the war on terms with which both sides can live. But your leaders have refused to negotiate, and instead intend wiping out this star system rather than admit error or accept terms they themselves have not dictated.

“By the time you receive this message, most of the Alliance fleet will be safe from the planned assault, in a location where your own star will protect us. But none of you will be safe, not unless you act in your own interests and those of the Syndicate Worlds. You know me by reputation. You know what your current leaders have done in the past. You have to decide which of us to trust. Your lives and the future of the Syndicate Worlds depend on your decision.

“To the honor of our ancestors.”

Desjani smiled reassuringly as Geary slumped backward after the end of his message. “Now all we have to do is hope the Syndics actually use their heads instead of just following orders.”

Once again, hours had to pass before anything could happen. Geary couldn’t roam the passageways of Dauntless without encountering members of her crew who might pick up on his edginess, but he also couldn’t stand just sitting on the bridge, so he took breaks down in his stateroom, pacing back and forth like a caged animal. He was there when Lieutenant Iger called. “There’s been some unusual activity in the Syndic comm net, Admiral. Another site is now trying to establish priority over the site at the Mandalon jump point.”

“Where’s this other site located?”

“Somewhere on the primary inhabited world, but they’re using lots of relays, so it took us a little while even to get that.” Lieutenant Iger flashed a quick smile. “The primary world received your transmission about two hours ago, sir.”

Long enough for someone to get moving with a takeover, especially with the Syndic Executive Council about five light-hours distant from the planet and unable directly to monitor events there in real time. “There’s been nothing overt that we’ve picked up?”

“No, sir. No transmissions about revolutions or new leaders or anything like that, and no signs of actual conflict or security forces being deployed. But our political-analysis routines estimate that whoever is trying to supplant the Executive Council is probably still lining up support among the various military commanders in the star system and with other important players. They’ll try to stay quiet until they have all of those backers in hand rather than tip off the Executive Council too early.”

A trap being sprung on the Syndic leaders who had been waiting to spring a trap on the Alliance fleet. “Let me know the instant you get anything else.”

But his next message was from Desjani. “The fleet is entering the lee of the star, Admiral,” she announced triumphantly. “We’re in the clear.”

“Except for the strike force.”

“Yes, sir, but Duellos can take care of himself. No reactions noted from the Syndic flotilla or the battleship at the jump point yet.”

Everything seemed to be going well again. He wondered what he might have missed this time.