Jack Campbell - Leviathan

Everyone was looking at him, no one was saying anything. The reporters fumbled for more questions. Geary turned to go, but paused as another question was shouted from the crowd. “Will you support the government if it does something illegal?”

The silence this time felt almost physical in its intensity. Geary faced everyone again, and shook his head. “I will not support illegal actions. If necessary, I would resign my command and my position rather than carry out illegal orders. I assure you that the government knows that. Thank you.”

A squad of security police had hastened up to provide an escort as the crowd kept growing. They readied themselves to force a path through the mass of people, but the crowd parted before him as Geary walked back toward the shuttle dock, knowing his words would be sent around the Alliance as fast as light, jump drives, and the hypernet could carry them, and wondering if they would make any difference.

“Our requisitions are being rejected,” Captain Smythe said with an apologetic look.

Geary glanced from Smythe to Lieutenant Jamenson, whose uncanny ability to confuse anything had proven invaluable in keeping the fleet’s many, overlapping sources of repair and funding from realizing anywhere near how much money had been getting spent on repairing his fleet. “Do they say why?”

“Insufficient funds,” Smythe said.

“They don’t reject the requisitions themselves,” Jamenson added, the green hair bequeathed her genes by the original settlers of her home world of Eire standing out incongruously in Geary’s stateroom. “They just say there’s no money.”

“I told you that the wells were running dry,” Smythe reminded Geary.

He looked at Smythe and Jamenson again. “You tell me. How do we keep the work going?”

Smythe made a face. “Legally?”

“Yes. Legally.”

“Cannibalize,” Smythe said. “Pull funds from other sources that are available to the fleet. By the way, we’ve already received a number of requests to transfer some of those funds back to various higher-level accounts and have successfully failed to manage those transfers as of yet. Spend it or lose it, Admiral.”

“What funds are we talking about?” Geary asked.

“Training. Mess funds—”

“Mess funds? They want to short how much food the crews of my ships get?” Geary demanded in disbelief.

“No,” Smythe said. “They want you to feed them the same quantity in the same quality while using less money.”

Geary resisted the urge to hit the nearest object. “And, of course, they aren’t explaining how I’m supposed to do that.”

“No, of course not.”

Lieutenant Jamenson gestured toward the star display over Geary’s table. “There were the budget cuts after the war, then money being siphoned off to pay for that special program—”

“The dark ships,” Geary said.

“Yes, Admiral, and apparently that program cost a whole lot more than was budgeted, and now I’m seeing reports that the fleet is having to reactivate some of the border defenses that were deactivated to save money after the war ended even though no one has the money for that. It’s actually pretty simple. Less money available, and financial obligations higher than expected.”

“They could have guessed that the dark ships would cost much more than anticipated,” Geary said. “Is there any other way I can drum up more money for repairs and operations?”

Smythe spoke reluctantly, his face twisted as if he were tasting something sour. “We could reduce costs by selectively shutting down some of your ships, Admiral. Don’t officially decommission them. Just shut down everything, send the crews to other ships, and leave them orbiting until we get the money to get them going again.”

“I can’t do that!” Geary pointed to the star display. “At any time, I could end up fighting the rest of those dark ships, and if that happens, I will need every ship and weapon I can lay my hands on! How long can we keep things going by cannibalizing those funds we’re supposed to be transferring back to other people?”

“A month, give or take a few days,” Smythe said.

“Can we legally spend that money if we’ve been told to send it elsewhere?”

Lieutenant Jamenson smiled. “Yes, sir. There are some amazing loopholes in official regulations. It will take some careful maneuvering, but we can drive a transport full of cash through them. After spending the money, I will inform everyone expecting it that it has already been spent, though saying it in such a way that it will take everyone months to figure out that has happened.”

“I’m glad that you’re on our side, Lieutenant. Is there anything else?”

Smythe looked thoughtful. “There are some critical parts and materials I would dearly like to lay my hands on, Admiral. But there are a few obstacles hindering my acquisition of them. Could you persuade Captain Desjani to loan me Master Chief Gioninni for a few days?”

“A few days?” Geary asked. “I’m sure that can be worked out. What exactly are we talking about doing?”

“Oh, Admiral, do you really want to know? Or do you want the parts and materials?”

Geary sighed. “I need to know if this is anything that will get anyone court-martialed.”

“No, sir!” Smythe said, not-quite-successfully feigning shock at the question. “That would mean someone was committing theft. Did you know, Admiral, that legally no one can be charged with theft unless it is proven that they never intended returning whatever they might have taken? Assuming something was taken.”

“You know,” Geary said, “I think I’m going to stop asking questions.”

“Good,” Smythe approved with a grin. “I was about to ask Lieutenant Jamenson to start answering you. By the time she was done, you wouldn’t know your left hand from your right.”

Geary waved dismissal to Smythe and Jamenson. “Thank you, both. Do what we discussed. I’m going to send fleet headquarters a direct and simple message, though, telling them that if they want this fleet to be in any condition to defend the Alliance they need to give it the money to maintain itself.”

“Do you think that will actually produce any results?” Smythe asked.

“Whether it does or not, it will be part of the official record, and no one will be able to claim I never told them there was a problem,” Geary replied.

“They’ll classify it, refuse to admit that it ever existed.”

“Did I mention who the information copies are going to?” Geary asked.

Smythe grinned. “Now it’s my turn not to ask questions.”

THE light showing the arrival of a ship at the jump point from Bhavan had barely appeared when a frantic message from that ship came on its heels. “There are warships cruising through Bhavan Star System! They won’t answer any comms, they don’t match known Alliance ships, and they have intercepted and destroyed half a dozen freighters and other civil shipping in the days before we managed to reach the jump point for Varandal! We were lucky to get away with our lives! We need assistance!”

“The software patches are spreading,” Desjani said as Geary took his seat next to hers on the bridge of Dauntless . “Bhavan is able to see the dark ships, too.”

“But that ship is reporting a half dozen attacks on civil shipping,” Geary said, frowning at his display. “In a few days. The reports that Admiral Timbale had received didn’t reflect attacks with anywhere near that frequency.”

“Can the dark ships tell when we can see them? Maybe that’s what triggered these attacks.”

Geary didn’t answer, gazing at the detailed data the ship from Bhavan had attached to its plea for help. “Four battleships.”