Jack Campbell: The Lost Fleet: Fearless

To Stanley Schmidt,

A great editor, a great writer, and a very decent human being.

Thanks for helping so many writers, including myself, become better at our work.

And I have no doubt that despite this dedication, Stan will continue rejecting anything I send him that doesn’t meet his standards.

For S., as always.

I’m indebted to my editor, Anne Sowards, for her valuable support and editing, and to my agent, Joshua Bilmes, for his inspired suggestions and assistance. Thanks also to Catherine Asaro, Robert Chase, J. G. (Huck) Huckenpöhler, Simcha Kuritzky, Michael LaViolette, Aly Parsons, Bud Sparhawk, and Constance A. Warner for their suggestions, comments, and recommendations. Thanks also to Charles Petit for his suggestions about space engagements.

Ships appeared against the black of space, squadrons of destroyers and light cruisers flashing into existence, followed by groups of heavy cruisers, then the divisions of battle cruisers and battleships, massive platforms for the deadliest weapons mankind had been able to create. In the distance a bright speck of light marked the star humanity had named Sutrah, so far away that the people living on the worlds near that star wouldn’t see the light announcing the Alliance fleet’s arrival for almost five hours yet.

The Alliance fleet, which had jumped into normal space here, appeared to be incredibly powerful as its formations fell toward Sutrah. It seemed impossible that something so strong could fear anything. But the Alliance fleet was running for its life, and Sutrah, deep within the enemy territory of the Syndicate Worlds, was but a necessary stepping stone on the way to ultimate safety.

“We have detections of Syndicate Worlds light warships at ten light-minutes, bearing ten degrees down to starboard.”

Captain John “Black Jack” Geary sat in the fleet commander’s seat on the bridge of the Alliance battle cruiser Dauntless , feeling over-tensed muscles slowly relax as it became apparent he’d once more guessed right. Or the Syndicate fleet commanders had guessed wrong, which was just as good. No minefields had awaited the Alliance fleet as it exited from the jump point, and the enemy warships so far spotted posed no real threat to his fleet.

No, the major threat to his ships remained inside the fleet itself.

Geary kept his eyes on the three-dimensional display projected before him, watching to see if the neat ranks of the Alliance formation would dissolve into chaotic pursuit of the Syndic ships as discipline gave way to a desire to get in on a kill.

“Captain Desjani,” he directed the commanding officer of the Dauntless. “Please broadcast a demand to those Syndicate warships to surrender immediately.”

“Yes, sir.” Tanya Desjani had learned to hide her reactions to Geary’s old-fashioned and (to the thinking of modern times) softhearted concepts like granting the option of surrender to an enemy force that could be easily destroyed.

He had slowly learned why she and the others in the fleet felt that way. The Syndicate Worlds had never been known for the humanity of their rulers or for concepts like individual freedom and justice that the worlds of the Alliance held dear. The unprovoked, surprise attacks by the Syndics, which had started this war, had left a bitter taste that still lingered, and over the century since then, the Syndics had taken the lead in a race to the bottom when it came to win-at-any-price tactics. Geary had been shocked to learn that the Alliance had come to match the Syndics atrocity for atrocity, and even though he now understood how that had happened, he would never tolerate it. He insisted on abiding by the old rules he’d known, rules that tried to control the rage of war so that those fighting it didn’t become as bad as their enemies.

Geary checked the system display for at least the tenth time since sitting down. He’d already memorized it before then. The jump point his fleet had exited was just under five light-hours from Sutrah. Two worlds in the system were inhabited, but the nearest of those to the fleet was only nine light-minutes from the star. It wouldn’t see the arrival of the Alliance fleet in this system for another four and a half hours. The other inhabited world was slightly farther away from the fleet, a mere seven and a half light-minutes from Sutrah. The Alliance fleet wouldn’t have to go close to either as it transited Sutrah Star System en route to another jump point on the other side from which it could make the leap to another star.

Around the depiction of the Alliance fleet on the system display, an expanding bubble marked the area in which something like a real-time picture of events could be evaluated. Right now, the fleet could see what the closest inhabited world had looked like four and a half light-hours ago. That was a comfortable margin, but it also allowed a lot of time for unanticipated events to pop up and surprise you when the light from them finally arrived. The star Sutrah itself could’ve exploded four hours ago, and they wouldn’t see the light from the event for almost another hour.

“Red shift on the Syndic ships,” a watch-stander announced, unable to keep disappointment out of his voice.

“They’re running,” Desjani added unnecessarily.

Geary nodded, then frowned. The massively outnumbered Syndic force they’d encountered at Corvus had nevertheless fought, with only one ship ultimately surrendering but three others annihilated. The Syndic commander there cited Syndic fleet regulations as requiring that suicidal action. Why are the Syndics here behaving differently? “Why?” he asked out loud.

Captain Desjani gave Geary a surprised look. “They’re cowards.”

Geary managed not to snap out a forceful reaction. Desjani, like so many of the other sailors and officers in the Alliance, had been fed propaganda about the Syndic enemy for so long that they believed it all, even when it didn’t make sense. “Captain, three of the Syndic ships at Corvus fought to the death. Why are these running?”

Desjani frowned in turn. “Syndics follow orders rigidly,” she finally declared.

That was a fair assessment, reflecting everything Geary had once known and what he’d seen now. “Then they’ve been ordered to run.”

“To report on our arrival in Sutrah System,” Desjani concluded. “But what’s the point of that? If they’ve got light units posted at the other jump points, and we can see that as of a few hours ago they did, what advantage do they gain by having someone right here? Their report still goes out at light speed, and since they can’t get through us to the nearest jump point, they won’t be able to jump out quickly.”

Geary brooded over the display. “True enough. So why?” He took another look at his fleet’s formation, still holding together, and breathed a prayer of thanks to the living stars. “Wait a minute.” Within a solar system, directional references were always made to the world outside a ship so other ships could understand them. Anything above the plane of the system was up, anything below it down. The direction toward the sun was right, or starboard, (or even starward as some urged), while the direction away from the sun was left, or port. Using that standard convention, the Syndic light warships had been below the position of his fleet and were now fleeing up and slightly to the left. Why would they run in a way that brought them closer to his fleet? Unless running in that way had another purpose.

Geary drew an intercept line from his ships to the Syndics, the curving course tracing through a region the Syndics hadn’t gone through. “Get me a real good look at this area. Fast.”