The Lost Fleet: Beyond the Frontier: Dreadnaught (32 page)

BOOK: The Lost Fleet: Beyond the Frontier: Dreadnaught

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Rione had been right. Iceni did plan on independence for this star system. Or rather independence for herself as ruler of this star system.

“Now,” Iceni said, looking straight into the camera in what must be a remarkably good imitation of someone with nothing to hide, “there is the matter of what I offer in return.” The display beside her changed, showing the Midway hypernet gate. “All of the gates in the hypernet system constructed by the Syndicate Worlds now have the safe-fail mechanisms on them, but as you are aware, all that does is limit the immediate damage if the gates collapse. Every time a gate collapses, we lose part of our hypernet, and our defense capability is harmed as is our trade and other aspects of our economies. If the enigma race chose to collapse the entire hypernet constructed by the Syndicate Worlds, as we believe they could, the long-term impact would be horrendous. It is our assessment that the enigmas have refrained from this step only because they are trying to find a means of canceling out the effects of the safe-fail mechanisms so that the collapse of gates can once more cause the death of entire human star systems.”

Geary stared at Iceni’s image, grateful that she couldn’t see his reaction. Collapse the entire hypernet? That wouldn’t directly cause damage, but the tactic was so obvious now that Iceni had mentioned it. Once the aliens knew that humanity wasn’t going to annihilate itself using the gates as weapons, there was no reason for them to continue allowing humanity all of the benefits from the hypernet systems.

Iceni made a dismissive gesture. “I realize that the Alliance must have reached the same conclusions and be working on its own defense against the loss of its hypernet system. However, we
already
have one, a mechanism that actually blocks the collapse command, so that each individual gate as well as the system as a whole is impervious to that form of alien attack. It has been tested. It does work.”

Was the Alliance working on such a system? How could they not be? Was that why he had been ordered to detach those hypernet-knowledgeable personnel? But Commander Neeson had been certain that the fleet’s personnel were not expert enough to make any difference to any Alliance efforts. Not with Captain Cresida dead.

But removing those personnel from the fleet would have gone a long way to ensuring that the fleet had no means of even realizing this particular threat might exist. As well as no means of constructing a device such as Iceni now offered.

Geary’s eyes went to his own star display, imagining a journey back to Alliance space from Midway the hard way, jumping star to star, a distance well more than twice that which the fleet had covered in its withdrawal from the Syndic home star system. Even without the constant threat of attack, it would be a long and arduous trek, cut off from home the entire time. Fuel, food . . . how could he acquire what he needed for such a long journey without taking it under threat of violence?

And what if the fleet had returned to Midway from alien space, low on supplies and possibly battered by combat, to find that instead of a fast journey home, it would require close to a year?

Had the government realized that risk existed and thought the need to learn more about the aliens justified dealing with it? But why hadn’t they told him about it? And why had fleet headquarters tried to yank the majority of his auxiliary support just before departure from Varandal, when that risk made having the maximum possible auxiliary support vital? Was that the reason the auxiliaries had been ordered away from him, and not the issue of supporting the new construction warships? Or was it a matter of both?

Why would the government and headquarters risk stranding the vast majority of its fleet as far from Alliance territory as existed within human space? Stranding the fleet and . . . stranding him.

A living hero can be a very inconvenient thing.

He became aware that Iceni was speaking once again. “I’m sure that you appreciate the value of what I am offering to you. All you need do in exchange for the design of this extremely important system is to remain silent when it is implied that this star system is under your protection against
all
aggression, and to refuse any request by the Syndicate Worlds’ central government for assistance if they seek to attack the peace-loving people of this star system.”

Her smile took on the completely insincere cast of a standard Syndic CEO expression. “You see that this is a humanitarian issue as well as a matter of self-interest. I am willing to accept your . . . word of . . . honor on this matter. Simply say that is what you will do, and the design will be transmitted to you.

“I await your agreement, Admiral Geary. For the people, Iceni, out.”

He covered his face with his hands, thoughts racing.
The government wouldn’t be bound by any commitments of that nature that I made, but it seems Iceni believes, just like Badaya and his followers, that I’m actually running things in the Alliance now. Saying that I take my orders from the Alliance government is true, but she won’t believe that’s the real reason.

The Alliance government that may have tried to strand me and the fleet out here. What would the aliens do when we penetrated their space? That could have triggered the wholesale collapse of the Syndicate Worlds’ hypernet. Didn’t anybody think about that? Is this a case of deliberate malice or just lack of foresight? The fiasco with that courts-martial message was proof enough that there are people in authority who aren’t thinking through the implications of what they do, but when things keep happening, it forms a very disturbing pattern.

How much had Rione known?

Ironically, the Syndics had probably used the information that Geary had given them about the alien worms to develop their mechanism, along with the design of the safe-collapse system first developed by Cresida and leaked to the Syndics to ensure their gates wouldn’t be used as weapons by the enigmas against the Alliance fleet. Or maybe it wasn’t ironic at all. Those gestures had seemed the right thing to do. Humanitarian in the real sense of the word, and a means to ensure that the Syndics in Midway had a meaningful chance to defend themselves, as well as being aimed at aiding and protecting the Alliance. Thanks to those gestures, he had the opportunity to acquire what might be a critically important breakthrough. If the Alliance, absorbed in internal political squabbles, hadn’t figured out that particular threat, or if it simply hadn’t figured out how to build a device like that yet, wasn’t it his responsibility to ensure that he brought back this Syndic countermeasure?

Iceni wasn’t even asking for anything in writing. Well, of course not. She was clearly too smart to commit agreements to paper when her own government would consider those agreements to be treasonous. It had been saddening as well as instructive to see Iceni grope for the term “word of honor,” an expression she plainly wasn’t used to using. For a moment, he wondered what Syndic CEOs used among themselves as a guarantee that agreements would be honored.

I can’t ask for advice on this one. If I reach an agreement with Iceni, it might be regarded as contrary to regulations, exceeding my authority, and unlawfully committing the Alliance to actions regarding the internal affairs of the Syndicate Worlds. Anyone I talk to before I make that decision would be implicated in it.

I have to decide alone, so no one else can take a hit for my decision.

He called up a report prepared by intelligence based on message intercepts in this star system and started reading it again. Iceni was still senior CEO here. No surprise there. The second-most-powerful CEO in the star system was the commander of the ground forces, a man named Drakon. Not much was known about him, but he had been involved in several battles along the border with the Alliance and been rated as highly effective by Alliance intelligence, before being mysteriously transferred to an assignment at the Syndic equivalent of the back end of nowhere.

Geary thought of Jason Boyens, the captured Syndic CEO they had brought back to Midway, who said that he had been assigned here, far from the front with the Alliance, as a form of exile.
I wonder who Drakon ticked off and what he did?

Also listed was a CEO named Hardrad, who apparently commanded the internal security forces in the star system and whose status ranked parallel to Iceni and Drakon. From what he had seen, Syndic internal security forces wielded immense power. They always had, but that power had been enhanced during the long war, and in some Syndic star systems that had included nuclear weapons as an ultimate safeguard against mass rebellion by planetary populations. He wondered how Iceni planned to handle Hardrad, or if she had already turned him so he would support her.

In other star systems, he had seen firsthand the results of attempts to declare independence from the Syndicate Worlds, the open warfare between military factions, civilian groups, and internal security forces. He hated to think of Midway suffering the same fate, but that was a matter beyond his control.

The report listed more names of sub-CEOs who had been identified in Syndic message traffic, but offered little other information besides a fragmentary order of battle for ground forces and a complete listing of Syndic warships in the star system.

No answers there. Geary went for a walk, down to the spaces deep inside
Dauntless
, where worship rooms awaited those seeking privacy. He sat down in a vacant room, lighting the ceremonial candle.
Honored ancestors, you know the decision I must make. What is your guidance?

He waited, felt nothing, rephrased the question, felt nothing, and finally snuffed out the candle and left.

Outside, he almost bumped into a sailor hastening into the rooms. With an almost comical expression of alarm, the sailor straightened to attention and saluted. “Excuse me, Admiral!”

“Not a problem,” Geary replied, waving the sailor past. “You’ve obviously got some urgent questions to ask.”

“Nothing that urgent, sir.” The sailor smiled sheepishly. “Just me and . . . uh . . . a friend. Whether . . . you know. Personal things. I know the important stuff already, because you’re in command, and you’ll get us home. That’s what my parents asked, will you get home? And I said Admiral Geary’s in command, and they knew that meant the fleet would be all right.”

“Thank you.” He stood there a moment while the sailor rushed onward. Maybe his ancestors had provided an answer.
You’ll get us home.
Regardless of what happened to him, what was most likely to get these ships and sailors home again?

Back in his stateroom, Geary tried to project matter-of-fact confidence as he sent an answer to Iceni. “I agree to your proposal. I will not provide any specific commitment to defense of this star system from attack by anyone but the enigma race, but you have my word of honor that I will also avoid outright denying such a commitment. I cannot guarantee that this fleet or other Alliance assets will not be ordered by our government to assist the Syndicate Worlds’ central government in reestablishing control of this star system, but I will argue against allowing this fleet to be used in that way, and I will not command such a force.

“In exchange, in addition to the mechanism you have promised to provide, I want a commitment from you that you will not attempt to claim the support of this fleet for your own actions, or declare any backing by me for your plans. If you publicly claim such backing, I will repudiate it. And if you commit atrocities against your own people or attack other star systems, I will regard this agreement as void.”

One other thing. “I would appreciate being apprised of what happened to CEO Boyens after he was released. I await your agreement to my terms and the receipt of the plans for the collapse-prevention mechanism.”

Less than ten minutes after the transmission, Geary’s hatch alert chimed. He allowed entry, surprised to see Lieutenant Iger there. What could have required the intelligence officer to personally visit Geary’s stateroom?

“Admiral,” Iger said, visibly nervous, “there is a matter concerning a superior officer that I am required to take action on.”

TEN

“EXCUSE
me?” Geary asked. Had intelligence been monitoring his own transmissions? Was this the sort of loyalty policing he had heard about but had trouble believing would actually take place in the Alliance fleet?

Iger’s nervousness increased. The man was more uncomfortable than Geary had ever seen him. “A . . . a matter concerning a superior officer, Admiral. I am required to report it to you, sir.”

“Report it to
me
?” It wasn’t about him, then. “Who are we talking about?”

“One of the captains, Admiral. One of the battle cruiser commanders.”

Geary went rigid, staring at Iger. “What is this? Nothing like Captain Kila, is it?”

“No, sir!” Iger shook his head rapidly. “I’m sorry, sir. No. Nothing like that, but it is something I must report to you,” he said for the third time.

It couldn’t be easy making what must be a negative report about a superior officer. Forcing himself to calm down, Geary nodded. “Let that be a lesson to you on how not to break news to me, Lieutenant. Which officer is this?”

“Commander Bradamont, sir. Commanding officer of
Dragon
.”

Bradamont? Someone whom Desjani herself now trusted? “What has Commander Bradamont done?”

BOOK: The Lost Fleet: Beyond the Frontier: Dreadnaught

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