Jack Campbell - Guardian

This time, those around the table shouted approval, while Desjani stared at Badaya with the same expression of shock she would have worn if a rock had begun debating philosophy with her.

Geary himself barely managed to hide his own amazement at Badaya’s speech. “I could not have said it better. That will be our policy. We’ll get this fleet home, we’ll get Invincible home, we’ll get the Dancers to our home, and we won’t stop until we get all of those Alliance men and women held by the Syndics home as well.”

Tumultuous approval reigned on all sides. He let it go for several seconds, then called for silence. “The Syndics may try something else while we’re still here. Everyone stay alert. We’re expecting trouble at the jump point for Simur, but that doesn’t mean something else might not be out there. As you’ve seen, our path to the jump point is taking a wide detour from the direct route in order to avoid anything else lying in wait along the shortest-distance course. Thank you.”

His officers jumped to their fleet, some at the far reaches of the virtual table leading a cheer, then, with salutes and determined expressions, the images of the commanding officers began vanishing and the apparent size of the room shrinking in size.

He forestalled Badaya and Jane Geary from leaving, though, waiting until they were alone except for the real presence of Desjani. “I wanted to thank you both for having my back during that meeting. You spoke well, and you made some excellent arguments.”

“I owed you a few, Admiral,” Jane Geary said. “And my brother Michael is out there somewhere. We need to find him.” She saluted and vanished.

Badaya made a diffident gesture. “It just made sense, that’s all. The simple answers are appealing because they’re simple, but that means you have to look a lot closer at them, doesn’t it?”

“That’s been my experience,” Geary agreed.

“Well, you’ve taught us a few things.” Badaya glanced at Desjani, his suggestive smile a return to the Badaya of old. “And you, Tanya. I guess married life has mellowed you! The old Tanya would have been demanding Syndic heads on stakes every kilometer back to Varandal.”

Geary could see Tanya tense, but she just smiled back. “If you think I’ve mellowed, try and cross me.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it!” Badaya grinned in his customary oafish manner, saluted, and vanished.

“What the hell?” Geary asked the space where Badaya’s image had been.

“That’s what I was wondering.” Desjani rapped the side of her head with one hand. “When he chimed in eloquently about the need for thinking instead of lashing out, I thought I must have gone crazy or slipped into some alternate reality where Badaya’s smarter twin exists. Eloquent! Badaya!”

“He’s been a bit different since Honor,” Geary said.

“There have been rumors that Badaya tried to resign,” Tanya said, eyeing him. “And that you turned him down. That you told him that you still had confidence in him.”

“I can’t comment on rumors or on private discussions with other officers. Not even to you. You know that.”

“Did he try to resign?”

“Tanya—”

“He expected to die at Honor. Expected to die along with every person on every ship in his force,” she said. “If anything can make someone change, that will.”

“So did Jane,” Geary said. “She told me she was scared and certain she was going to die at Honor.”

“Yeah, well, you either die, or you don’t,” Desjani said. “If you’re lucky, you live, and try to be worthy of that.” One hand had stolen upward, as if of its own volition, and touched the Fleet Cross ribbon on her left breast.

“What happened to you, Tanya? When you earned that award?”

She stood up and looked away. “I didn’t die.”

“Tanya—”

“Not now, Admiral. I’ll tell you someday… maybe.” Desjani turned back to him with an enigmatic look. “If we both live that long.”

They had come up on the jump point from a high angle, curving the track of the fleet when close to bring the Alliance warships onto a vector aimed straight at the jump point.

“We’re not seeing anything yet,” Lieutenant Castries reported, her voice tense.

Everyone expected to see something. After the attacks at the hypernet gate, everyone thought the Syndics would try again here. “Mines still look like the best bet,” Desjani commented. “But we’re a little too far out to spot them if they’re just in front of the jump point.”

Geary watched the track of a single ship ahead of the Alliance fleet, one moving much more slowly as it approached the jump point. “Are we going to overtake that merchant ship?”

“It should jump out ten minutes before we reach the exit, Admiral,” Lieutenant Castries reported.

“Interesting timing,” Desjani commented.

“Yes.” He entered the commands to see the freighter’s track to this point. “A suspicious mind might wonder why, after we had swung back on a trajectory heading for the jump point, that freighter left an outer planet facility at just the right time to closely proceed us through the jump point.”

“It makes it look safe,” Desjani commented, “but that doesn’t seem enough of a diversion. Watching that freighter doesn’t require any concentration at all.”

Geary’s attention was drawn by movement within his formation. The Dancers. Their ships had left the vicinity of Invincible , darting forward through the formation as if eager to reach the jump point before any of the Alliance ships. “Emissary Charban! Tell the Dancers in the strongest possible terms that we suspect danger at that jump point! They must not move ahead of our ships!”

“Yes, Admiral,” Charban replied, concern and resignation warring in his expression. “They don’t always listen. I’ll tell the Dancers and leave out the suspect part. Maybe if we say we know there is danger there, it will make a difference.”

“What do we do,” Desjani asked, “if the Dancers race ahead of us into what we suspect is a minefield?”

“Pray,” Geary replied.

He watched with increasing dread as the Dancers got closer and closer to the leading ships in the Alliance formation. Whatever Charban was telling them wasn’t enough. I should call Charban. Tell him to put the fear of the living stars in the Dancers and do it now. But what if he is doing that and I interrupt him and that causes a critical delay in getting the message across to the Dancers? Damn, damn, damn…

The Dancer ships leaped past the forwardmost Alliance warships, weaving around each other as the Dancers aimed for the Syndic transport lumbering steadily toward the jump point.

An urgent alert sounded, jarring Geary and everyone else on the bridge out of their dismayed viewing of the Dancers’ movements.

“There’s a distress signal,” Lieutenant Castries said.

Geary squinted at his own display, where a new symbol had appeared on top of the freighter. “From the merchant ship ahead of us?”

“Yes, Admiral. They’re reporting fluctuations in their power core.”

“What do our sensors say?” Desjani demanded.

“There are fluctuations being detected, Captain. The fluctuations we’re picking up are consistent with a failure of power-core-control mechanisms.”

Was it the trick they had been expecting? Or a real problem?

And the Dancers were getting very close to the danger radius the fleet’s maneuvering systems had just illuminated around the Syndic freighter.

“For the love of our ancestors, Emissary Charban, tell the Dancers that freighter is about to blow up!”

Charban’s image, his face lined with strain, appeared just long enough to nod in reply. “Professor Shwartz and I are screaming at the Dancers! We’ll add that warning, too!”