Jack Campbell - Leviathan

“I understand,” Geary said. “I just have to worry about orbiting facilities? There are no habitable planets there or installations on the six planets in that star system?”

“Not according to my information. That is hardly definitive, however.” The senator bent her lips in a sardonic smile. “I actually encountered one individual who refused to confirm or deny the existence of habitable planets at Unity itself.”

Geary stared at her in disbelief. “It’s common knowledge that there are two habitable worlds at Unity. Everyone knows that. It’s in every star guide.”

“Which did not impress that individual in the least, Admiral. Just because everyone knows something that is supposedly classified is no grounds for reconsidering whether it should be classified.” Unruh looked like she wanted to punch someone, then cleared her expression and focused back on Geary. “Ancestors alone know how much else has been classified. Now, back on topic. In the past, the government would have also built support facilities at Unity Alternate for whichever Alliance warships survived to join the government there. Important supplies would have been stockpiled there. We deliberately left you with the portion of your assigned Marines who would be best at storming the facilities at Unity Alternate if that proved necessary, as it has, and believe me, working that out without anyone’s figuring out our intent was not easy. We have no idea what sort of defenses might be at those facilities, but we are fairly certain there is no actual military presence.”

She paused. “We think we have shut off resources and information intended for the Defender Fleet, but we can’t be certain they will not somehow hear of plans against them. I wish I could offer more assurances on that, but I can’t, not until we move at Unity, and there is a strong suspicion that our moves at Unity could trigger a Defender Fleet move against us. We’re hoping you can prevent that.

“Since Unity Alternate is the home base for the Defender Fleet, you can assume the facilities there have been automated to the maximum possible extent. There are strong indications the Defender Fleet was designed to operate totally autonomously for an extended period, without depending on human support at any level.”

Geary bit back his first words, carefully recasting them before speaking. “Do you know whose idea it was to cut humans out of the loop?”

“It seems to have been a group consensus,” Unruh replied. “Various contractors were wildly enthusiastic at the idea, complete with assurances that nothing could go wrong. What those assurances were worth we learned when our auditors discovered fine print in their contracts that, once translated from lawyer-speak, said if anything did go wrong it wouldn’t create any legal liability for the contractors. Your own fleet headquarters was also eager to embrace the idea. As their decision paper put it, totally automated systems would eliminate problems with field commanders who sometimes failed to execute their orders as given.”

“You can’t have field commanders thinking for themselves, now can you?” Geary said.

“Apparently not. But I think the main concern of your fleet headquarters was personnel costs. You have no idea how huge the budget is that the Alliance Senate deals with, and how huge the military personnel costs are within that budget.”

“Why is spending on equipment an investment and spending on people a cost? I’ve always thought that personnel expenses should be considered investments as well, not costs,” Geary said. “Calling them costs creates the image that it is just money being thrown away because we have no choice. But that money is an investment in the people who make all of the difference in effectiveness and efficiency and everything else.”

The senator raised her eyebrows at him. “That’s an interesting word choice. And a worthwhile argument for future budgets. In terms of commitments we already face, retirement hasn’t been that big an expense given that relatively few personnel survived long enough to retire,” Unruh added bitterly, “but existing medical costs are immense. The citizens of the Alliance clamoring for reduced spending don’t realize how much of that spending has to go to helping those who gave pieces of themselves to defending us.”

“Have you told them?” Geary asked. “Has anybody gone to the citizens and said here is why we need this money, here is who it has to go to, this is why we owe it to them?”

Senator Unruh looked at Geary, then shook her head. “I doubt it. Oh, I’ve had senators hitting me up to know where the money is going because they weren’t read into the Defender Fleet program and couldn’t understand how much funds that money-sink has been eating up. Those automated systems have devoured more and more of the budget as costs and complexities mounted. But no one has been beating my door down demanding that we spend more money on people. I promise you I will make that case myself.”

“I need money here, too,” Geary said. “My people are scrambling to find the funds needed to keep repairing my damaged ships, and even to keep day-to-day operations going.”

“That’s ridiculous. Your fleet headquarters has said nothing about that but has requested extra funds to expand their own offices and operations. They claim that as force levels shrink, the staff must grow to deal with the additional challenges,” she added wryly.

Geary inhaled deeply, considering his next words carefully. “That’s an interesting perspective on priorities,” he finally said.

Unruh smiled. “Isn’t it? Senator Sakai suggested that if artificial intelligences would make effective replacements for field commanders, they would probably do even better as replacements for headquarters commanders. For some reason, that proposal was not enthusiastically received at fleet headquarters.”

“I can’t imagine why not.”

“It is a mystery,” Senator Unruh said. “I promise you there will be a supplemental appropriation introduced specifically for your fleet when I get back.”

Geary regarded her closely. “Can I trust you, Senator?”

She smiled again though only slightly this time. “I hope so.”

“Do you have all the answers?”

“Me?” Unruh laughed. “That would be nice. I’m looking for the answers. I’m asking questions. I’m trying to figure out where we go from here.”

“Then I think I can trust you,” Geary said. “Most of my problems seem to originate with people who are certain they know all the answers. Will you need an escort back to Unity?”

“As you saw outside of this room, I have some special forces accompanying me on what is officially a training mission,” Unruh said. “My ship is old but can outrun anything in space, I’m told. It was designed specifically to help senators and other high officials get away fast when necessary. Part of the Unity Alternate program, apparently, though I imagine that more than one senator thought it could come in handy in other circumstances. You weren’t offering to escort me back with your fleet, were you?”

Geary shook his head. “It would be very bad imagery, I think, for Black Jack to show up at Unity with a fleet.”

“Very bad imagery,” Senator Unruh agreed. “We want to forestall a covert coup, not make it look like an overt coup is taking place. Besides, all of those warships would make my return far too high-profile for what is supposed to be a very low-profile mission. One last thing. We believe that the dark ships are focused on you.”

“I’ve noticed that,” Geary said. “The dark ships’ tactics at Bhavan confirmed it. They want to destroy the First Fleet, but they also want me dead.”

Unruh shook her head, looking off to one side. “I have reason to believe that you were programmed into a contingency target set that might have activated without proper authorization, but I suspect there are private reasons as well for your personally being a priority objective.”