The Lost Fleet: Outlands - Resolute E-Book

Jack Campbell

• Herausgeber: Titan Books
• Kategorie: Fantasy und Science-Fiction
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2022

Seitenzahl: 576

Beschreibung

The New York Times-bestselling series continues as Admiral 'Black Jack' Geary commands the fleet deep into alien space and leads humanity to the galactic stage.Admiral John 'Black Jack' Geary faces the true unknown as he leads his fleet on a mission that could change humanity's understanding of the universe itself.Having survived political warfare Geary must lead a diplomatic mission to establish a new embassy with the cryptic but welcoming Dancers. But to get there, his battle group, and the scientists and ambassadors they're escorting, must enter space controlled by the mysterious, and deadly, Enigmas.Carrying the burden of his own legend, Geary must cross hostile space with saboteurs and assassins hiding in his crew. He must embody the best of military leadership, knowing every decision he makes will be assessed on the galactic stage. He must be the brilliant tactical commander, and a man who knows the price of pulling the trigger.

Leseprobe

Contents

Cover

Title Page

Leave us a Review

Copyright

Dedication

The First Fleet of the Alliance

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

ALSO BY JACK CAMPBELLAND AVAILABLE FROM TITAN BOOKS

THE LOST FLEET SERIES

Dauntless

Fearless

Courageous

Valiant

Relentless

Victorious

Beyond the Frontier: Dreadnaught

Beyond the Frontier: Invincible

Beyond the Frontier: Guardian

Beyond the Frontier: Steadfast

Beyond the Frontier: Leviathan

Outlands: Boundless

THE LOST STARS SERIES:

Tarnished Knight

Perilous Shield

Imperfect Sword

Shattered Spear

THE GENESIS FLEET SERIES

Vanguard

Ascendant

Triumphant

THE STARK’S WAR SERIES (as John G. Hemry)

Stark’s War

Stark’s Command

Stark’s Crusade

JAG IN SPACE (as John G. Hemry)

A Just Determination

Burden of Proof

Rule of Evidence

Against All Enemies

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The Lost Fleet: Outlands – Resolute

Print edition ISBN: 9781789096170

E-book edition ISBN: 9781789096774

Published by Titan Books

A division of Titan Publishing Group Ltd

144 Southwark Street, London, SE1 0UP

www.titanbooks.com

First edition: June 2022

10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

Names, places and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead (except for satirical purposes), is entirely coincidental.

Copyright © 2022 John G. Hemry writing as Jack Campbell.

The right of John G. Hemry to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act of 1988.

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library.

To Constance A. Warner, who walks her own road, alwaysstriving, always seeing the best in herself and others, alwaysseeking not just knowledge but understanding.

For S., as always.

THE FIRST FLEET OF THE ALLIANCE

Admiral John Geary, Commanding

FIRST BATTLESHIP DIVISION

SECOND BATTLESHIP DIVISION

GallantIndomitableGloriousMagnificent

DreadnaughtFearlessDependableConqueror

THIRD BATTLESHIP DIVISION

SFOURTH BATTLESHIP DIVISION

WarspiteVengeanceResolutionGuardian

ColossusEncroachRedoubtableSpartan

FIFTH BATTLESHIP DIVISION

RelentlessReprisalSuperbSplendid

FIRST BATTLE CRUISER DIVISION

SECOND BATTLE CRUISER DIVISION

InspireFormidableDragonSteadfast

DauntlessDaringVictoriousIntemperate

THIRD BATTLE CRUISER DIVISION

IllustriousIncredibleValiant

FIFTH ASSAULT TRANSPORT DIVISION

TsunamiTyphoonMistralHaboob

FIRST AUXILIARIES DIVISION

SECOND AUXILIARIES DIVISION

TitanTanukiKupuaDomovoi

WitchJinnAlchemistCyclops

TWENTY-SIX HEAVY CRUISERS IN FIVE DIVISIONS

First Heavy Cruiser Division

Third Heavy Cruiser Division

Fourth Heavy Cruiser Division

Fifth Heavy Cruiser Division

Eighth Heavy Cruiser Division

FIFTY-ONE LIGHT CRUISERS IN TEN SQUADRONS

First Light Cruiser SquadronThird Light Cruiser SquadronSixth Light Cruiser SquadronNinth Light Cruiser SquadronEleventh Light Cruiser Squadron

Second Light Cruiser SquadronFifth Light Cruiser SquadronEighth Light Cruiser SquadronTenth Light Cruiser SquadronFourteenth Light Cruiser Squadron

ONE HUNDRED FORTY-ONE DESTROYERS IN EIGHTEEN SQUADRONS

First Destroyer SquadronThird Destroyer SquadronSixth Destroyer SquadronNinth Destroyer SquadronTwelfth Destroyer SquadronSixteenth Destroyer SquadronTwentieth Destroyer SquadronTwenty-third Destroyer SquadronTwenty-eighth Destroyer Squadron

Second Destroyer SquadronFourth Destroyer SquadronSeventh Destroyer SquadronTenth Destroyer SquadronFourteenth Destroyer SquadronSeventeenth Destroyer SquadronTwenty-first Destroyer SquadronTwenty-seventh Destroyer SquadronThirty-second Destroyer Squadron

FIRST FLEET MARINE FORCE

Major General Carabali, commanding

3,000 Marines on assault transports and divided into detachments on battle cruisers and battleships

THE BLARE OF AN urgent call alert shattered the quiet of “night” routine in the admiral’s stateroom aboard the Alliance battle cruiser Dauntless. John “Black Jack” Geary, out of his bunk within seconds of the alarm beginning to sound, yanked on his uniform at the same time as his stateroom’s display lit up. “Admiral, a ship has arrived at the jump point from Pele.”

Usually, the arrival of a ship from another star wouldn’t trigger an urgent alert. Especially when that ship had arrived at an area one light hour, or roughly one billion kilometers, from where Dauntless and the rest of the Alliance ships were orbiting. But the Alliance fleet was very far from home, orbiting the star named Midway on the very edge of human expansion into the galaxy. And Pele, where that ship had come from, was controlled by the mysterious enigma race that had launched repeated attacks on humanity.

“Just one ship?” Geary demanded. “It’s an enigma?” The aliens had been known to send ships to Midway just long enough to take a look at things in the star system before jumping back to Pele.

“No, sir,” the bridge watch stander replied. “It’s human design. A heavy cruiser. It’s not transmitting any identification. We just got a tentative ID from the fleet’s sensors that it’s the Passguard.”

“The Passguard,” Geary repeated, feeling an emptiness inside. The Passguard had been the flagship of an attempt by the Rift Federation to independently contact the alien Dancers who were (apparently) well-disposed toward humans. When last seen, the Passguard had been in the company of six other ships, two of them light cruisers and the other four destroyers. But getting to the Dancers required crossing through space controlled by the enigmas, and the enigmas had earned their name because of their fanatical attempts to hide all information about themselves from humanity. “Alone?”

“Yes, Admiral. No other ships have come out of jump. If that is Passguard, she’s displaying serious external damage. We’re not detecting any indications of active systems aboard her.”

A dead ship? But dead ships didn’t exit jump space. That required a working jump drive and either a human or a still-functioning navigation system to trigger it. “I’m on my way to the bridge,” Geary said, moving quickly into the passageway outside his stateroom. The passageway was nearly empty at this time of the ship’s night, only a couple of sailors some distance away who were running checks on equipment. They looked his way as Geary left his stateroom, their expressions too far off to see clearly, but probably worried about anything that brought the admiral rushing out of his stateroom.

They’d been in this orbit for over a week, waiting for proof that the project to entangle the hypernet gate at Midway with the Alliance hypernet had succeeded. A strangely monotonous week, given that they were so far from the Alliance and so close to the danger posed by the enigmas. Time on a warship was a strange thing, even when not considering the changes to the way time flowed when a ship accelerated to a tenth or two-tenths of the speed of light. The days could fly by in a blur of duties and watches to be stood and necessary things to be done. But those same days could drag, the duties and the watches and the necessary things pretty much the same from one day to the next. Even the hardest work could get boring when it didn’t change, and that created another unchanging problem, because there were few things in the universe as dangerous as sailors or Marines who were bored and liable to come up with something that “seemed like a good idea at the time.”

So Geary found himself both worried by this newly arrived ship, and relieved that something had happened to cause a break in the routine.

Getting to the bridge took only a minute, but he wasn’t surprised to see that he hadn’t beaten Dauntless’s commanding officer getting there.

Captain Tanya Desjani, in her ship’s command seat next to his, was eyeing her display. “Passguard, if that is Passguard, hasn’t maneuvered since leaving jump. Our sensors aren’t picking up any indications of active systems operating aboard her.” Desjani shook her head. “If that ship hadn’t just left jump I’d assess it as completely dead, a derelict. But they must still have a working jump drive.”

“Maybe it is dead,” Geary said, “except for the jump drive.”

“That’s kind of hard to believe, Admiral, that the crew got wiped out and everything else got knocked out but the jump drive, and the jump drive’s automated control also survived as well as emergency power for it.” She shook her head again. “I think there are still people alive on that wreck, if Passguard managed to fight back to the jump point at Pele at the cost of the other ships with her. But it’s also possible that Passguard was captured, and the enigmas rigged it to show up here as an apparent derelict to be used for a sneak attack.”

Geary frowned. “If the wreck is rigged to explode, it could only take out whatever shuttle or ship came close to examine it. Maybe the enigmas sent it back as an object lesson? This is what happens to human ships that come to Pele?”

“Maybe,” Desjani said. “There’s only one way to get an answer, and if there are any humans still alive on that thing they probably need help as fast as possible.”

Space offered few obstacles to a clear view of objects far more distant than Passguard was at the moment. Geary studied the external damage his fleet’s sensors were evaluating on the heavy cruiser, wincing inside as he imagined the beating Passguard must have taken. He’d once been on the losing side of a fight with his own cruiser, the Merlon, the ugly memories of having his ship pounded until it was helpless flooding his mind.

He fought down the images of the past, knowing that Desjani was right, and if anyone remained alive aboard Passguard they were probably in desperate need of help.

But help would take a while to get to them. In human terms, space was almost unimaginably huge. One light hour, a billion kilometers, was nothing compared to a light year that equaled ten trillion kilometers. But to humans it was very far indeed. Even pouring on all the acceleration the latest warships could manage it would still take several hours to cover a light hour’s distance and brake to match Passguard’s own vector. And that was on top of the hour that had already passed while the light from the heavy cruiser’s arrival was traveling from the jump point to where Dauntless was orbiting. “If there are still crew aboard, it’s amazing anyone survived the jump.”

“They were luckier than the ships with them,” Desjani said, not trying to hide her bitter feelings. “A lot of good sailors must’ve died proving how stupid it was for the Rift Federation to try to get to Dancer space all on their own.”

He couldn’t argue the point because he felt the same way. The small force the Rift Federation sent had been able to bluff its way across human space, but hadn’t stood a chance against the enigmas.

He knew what he needed to do: detach some of his ships to intercept Passguard and either assist any survivors or destroy any enigma traps on the ship. Geary began to run through the necessary steps in his mind before suddenly halting himself.

For a long time he’d been in command of a fleet operating on its own, making his own decisions on what needed to be done and then doing it. He’d fallen out of the habit of requesting permission before acting.

Geary touched his communication controls. “Boundless, this is Admiral Geary. I need to talk to Ambassador Rycerz as quickly as possible.”

“We need permission?” Captain Desjani grumbled in a low voice so the others on the bridge couldn’t hear. “Isn’t this an emergency?”

“It’s not that kind of emergency,” Geary said. “Ambassador Rycerz is the highest-ranking civilian authority representing the Alliance here, and that means I request permission before I act on this.”

Desjani looked annoyed but didn’t try to argue. She knew how he felt about the importance of deferring to civilian authority, and showing others that he did so. A century of war had badly frayed ties between the fleet and the government, ties that Geary was determined to repair. His recent experiences on the Alliance capital world, Unity, had only reinforced that resolve. A more rational person probably would’ve been discouraged or deterred by assassination attempts aimed at him, as well as the betrayal of Alliance laws and principles by parts of the Senate, but then again a more rational person would’ve given up long ago.

A virtual window popped up on Geary’s display, showing Ambassador Rycerz in her office aboard Boundless. She’d obviously also been awakened recently. “Admiral. Is this about that ship from Pele?”

“Yes,” Geary said. “Our sensors have identified it as the Passguard, the cruiser that was leading the Rift Federation force trying to reach Dancer space. It’s very badly damaged. Request permission to coordinate with Midway’s authorities to send some of my ships to rescue any survivors.”

Rycerz’s eyes searched his own. “You think someone might still be alive on that ship?”

“It’s possible. If so, they might be on their last legs.”

“Then we have to do whatever we can.” The ambassador paused, thinking, her expression somber. “Do you think the enigmas destroyed the other Rift Federation ships?”

“Yes,” Geary said, not trying to cushion the blow of his assessment. “The enigmas have been utterly ruthless when it comes to dealing with humanity.”

“Why?” Rycerz ran one hand through her hair. “Did the Syndics handle their contacts with the enigmas that badly?”

“When we went through enigma space, the civilian experts with us debated that question,” Geary said. “We simply don’t know enough about how the enigmas think, and they’ve refused to go beyond threats when dealing with us. The best guess our experts came up with is that the enigmas are so obsessed with protecting everything about themselves from any outsiders that they’ll do anything to stop anyone who might learn anything. They’ve apparently had the same attitude toward the Dancers.”

“You couldn’t find any factions willing to speak with us? Are the enigmas that uniform a culture?”

“They’re not united,” Geary said. “We saw clear signs of heavily defended borders within enigma space. But when it comes to dealing with outsiders, they are apparently of one mind.”

Rycerz made a face, looking to one side. “I’ve been reading all of the reports on the enigmas, including those by the civilian experts with you last time, and there’s nothing in any of them that contradicts you. Murderously paranoid, by human standards.”

“And probably perfectly rational by their standards,” Geary said. “Not that that’s much consolation for the humans that run afoul of the enigmas. Believe me, we tried to find ways to negotiate with the enigmas, to even just talk meaningfully with them. All they’d do was use human avatars to threaten us.”

“Diplomacy requires some willingness on the other side to actually talk,” Rycerz said. “Didn’t the Rift Federation know about your experiences with the enigmas?”

“They did. Their senior officer on that cruiser, the Passguard, is Captain Kapelka, who was with us when we went through enigma space. She knew what she was heading into.”

“And now we have a wreck returned to us,” Rycerz said sadly. “Go ahead, Admiral. See if there’s anyone left to save. Let me know if you run into any problems with Midway’s people. If you do, I’ll try a direct appeal to President Iceni.”

“Thank you,” Geary said, hoping it wouldn’t come to that. Communications with the planet Iceni was on would require hours for light-speed communications to make the round trip.

He switched to a different circuit, the one used to communicate with the local authorities at Midway. Not part of the Alliance to which Geary’s fleet belonged, Midway had once been part of the Syndicate Worlds empire. But the leaders of Midway had rebelled as the corporate empire of the Syndicate Worlds crumbled in the wake of the century-long war against the Alliance. And as they were sort-of friends and partners, he couldn’t ignore their sovereignty over this star system.

Midway’s small fleet was also orbiting, only about ten light minutes from Geary’s fleet. Their heaviest warship, a single battleship, was too ponderous for quickly chasing down Passguard. And Midway’s sole battle cruiser was near the primary inhabited world, another two light hours distant. But Midway also had a handful of cruisers and smaller Hunter-Killers if it decided to deal with Passguard and keep the Alliance warships out of the matter.

He tapped the control to send a message to the commander of Midway’s flotilla. “Kommodor Marphissa, this is Admiral Geary. My fleet has identified the warship newly arrived from Pele as the Rift Federation cruiser Passguard. If any of the crew are still alive, they need assistance. I’m preparing to send a task force to intercept Passguard. Please advise if you have any objection to my dealing with this matter. Geary, out.” Boundless had been close enough for real-time conversation, but the Midway flotilla was ten light minutes away, meaning every back-and-forth would take twenty minutes.

Desjani sat back, frowning. “I recommend one battle cruiser and a couple of heavy cruisers. The Marine detachment aboard Dauntless should be large enough to deal with anything aboard Passguard unless that wreck is crammed with enigmas. And if it is, we’d be smarter to stand off and blow it apart rather than engage in a hand-to-hand fight.”

“Two battle cruisers,” Geary said. “And four heavy cruisers. Just in case the enigmas have rigged a trap. I want enough force on hand to deal with any surprises.”

“What if Kommodor Marphissa says no?” Desjani asked. “Midway is worried about the Alliance trying to take over here so they might want to demonstrate that they don’t need us.”

“They can also say that Passguard should be our problem, not theirs, and be glad to hand the whole problem over to us,” Geary said. “We’ll take Dauntless and Daring, along with the Fifth Heavy Cruiser Division. I’ll have General Carabali scramble some reinforcements for the Marine detachments so we’ll have some more muscle on hand if a boarding action is required.”

“Lieutenant Castries,” Desjani said to one of the bridge watch standers. “Notify Daring and the Fifth Heavy Cruiser Division that we’re going after Passguard, then work out the intercept vector.”

Geary himself called General Carabali, who promptly offered to come along in the assault transport Tsunami. “That’ll give us plenty of Marines and the hospital facilities aboard this ship,” she pointed out.

Geary glanced at Desjani, who rubbed her chin as she thought. “If Tsunami pushes her acceleration for all she’s worth, and we limit our own acceleration a bit, she can keep up,” Desjani said. “Dauntless has a good sick bay, but it can’t match the capabilities aboard an assault transport. Having those medical resources along might be worth the slightly longer time to reach Passguard.”

He nodded to Desjani. “Good idea,” Geary said to Carabali. “We’ll do that.”

“Lieutenant Castries,” Desjani said. “Notify Tsunami that she’s coming along, and to be prepared for extended maximum acceleration. Then modify your intercept of Passguard to include Tsunami’s acceleration limits.”

“Aye, aye, Captain,” Lieutenant Castries said, working quickly at her watch station.

Twenty minutes went by in a flash as they worked on the preparations, the report from the communications watch coming as a surprise. “Admiral, there’s an incoming message for you from the Midway Kommodor.”

Geary tapped accept, seeing an image of Marphissa appear. Young for her responsibilities, Midway’s senior fleet commander had gained her job when the former Syndicate Worlds commanders in this star system all came to untimely ends during the revolt. From what could be seen around Marphissa, the Kommodor was aboard a shuttle rather than the battleship.

“Admiral Geary, this is Kommodor Marphissa of the free and independent Midway Star System,” she said. “Midway accepts your offer of assistance in dealing with a former Alliance warship. I am transferring to the cruiser Manticore which will accompany whatever force you send to intercept Passguard. Provide more information to me as soon as possible. For the people, Marphissa, out.”

Desjani rolled her head back with a sigh. “Lieutenant Castries, we will also be accompanied by Midway’s cruiser Manticore.”

“Aye, aye, Captain.” To her credit, Lieutenant Castries flinched only slightly as she began reworking the intercept for a third time.

*   *   *

DIFFERENT WARSHIPS HAD DIFFERENT abilities. Battleships, massive, heavily protected, and heavily armed, were also cumbersome compared to other warships. Battle cruisers sacrificed a lot of that protection and some of that armament to reduce mass and add more propulsion units, making them the most agile warships despite their size. In a situation like this, when time mattered, the ability of battle cruisers to reach Passguard as quickly as possible was a perfect match to the requirements.

Along with the four heavy cruisers and the assault transport Tsunami the Alliance ships accelerated away from their former orbit and the rest of the Alliance fleet, their path through space a long curve that would intercept the path of Passguard. Along the way, Midway’s heavy cruiser Manticore slid in from below to join up with the Alliance ships. A few months ago the idea of a Syndicate Worlds–designed cruiser operating with Alliance warships would’ve felt very strange, and even now it seemed a bit odd. But the fact that Midway’s warships were operated by partners of the Alliance made the weird pairing workable.

Aided by inertial dampers that kept the forces of acceleration from squashing frail humans and tearing apart their stronger but still vulnerable ships, the fastest warships known to humanity would still require a bit more than six hours to accelerate, cover the billion kilometers, and brake their velocity again to match that of the badly damaged Passguard. While the ability to cross such distances in such a short time was a huge tribute to human ingenuity, it still felt woefully inadequate. Six hours could be a very long time when racing to help people who could be barely hanging on to life.

That this was a rescue mission rather than a threat or a now-dead ship became more probable more than two hours after the ships started out.

“Captain,” Lieutenant Yuon said, “sensors have spotted a light flashing from the Passguard. Visible light, repeating a pattern. Three quick flashes, three long flashes, and another three short flashes. Then a pause, and the pattern repeats.”

Desjani glanced at Geary. “I’m not more than a century old like some people, but that sounds like the ancient SOS distress signal to me.”

“Me, too.” He didn’t respond to her gibe about how long ago he’d been born as he hunched forward, gazing at his display. “How powerful is that light, Lieutenant?”

“Sensors estimate it’s a hand light, Admiral. Probably an emergency spotlight. Sensors are spotting enough slight variation in the timing of the flashes to estimate they’re being triggered by a human and not an automated control,” Yuon added.

“So, someone is still alive on that ship.”

*   *   *

THEY HAD TIME TO spare before the intercept with Passguard, so Geary called a virtual conference to hash out any problems before then. The conference compartment aboard Dauntless could virtually expand to appear to accommodate hundreds of people, but it required no adjustment this time to fit the number of those present. Geary himself and Tanya Desjani were actually here, while the virtual presences of Captain Vitali from Daring, General Carabali aboard Tsunami, Captain Adam Ochs (who also commanded the Fifth Heavy Cruiser Division) on the cruiser Tenshu, and Kommodor Marphissa aboard Manticore were also “seated” around the table.

“We have apparent confirmation that there are survivors aboard Passguard,” Geary began. “Any guesses why they haven’t been able to repair any comm systems at least?”

Captain Ochs shook his head. “Passguard is about ten years old. Lucky to survive that long, but that means her systems are old and unreliable. Before she was recalled to the Rift Federation the joke in the heavy cruiser community was that every resupply for Passguard included plenty of bubble gum and duct tape to keep the ship in one piece. With heavy damage on top of that, it wouldn’t be surprising if nothing is working aboard that ship.”

“We know the jump drive is still working,” Captain Vitali said. “Otherwise they couldn’t have left jump space. What the hell was the Rift Federation thinking sending a ship like that through enigma space?”

“Passguard was their flagship,” Geary said. “That’s why it was sent. As far as what they were thinking, I have no idea. We never expected to see any of those Rift Federation ships again.”

Desjani grimaced. “I’m a little concerned that they waited to flash that distress signal until we were well on our way.”

“That part makes sense,” Captain Vitali said. “I was in a similar situation once.”

Nobody asked him to elaborate on that situation. Most of the officers and sailors in the fleet had survived at least one ship being shot out from under them during the bloody and once seemingly endless war with the Syndics.

“If whoever is still alive on Passguard is dependent on survival suit sensors,” Vitali continued, “then they couldn’t have spotted our ships while we were orbiting that far from them. But, once we accelerated, even the limited sensors on the suits could’ve spotted the energy our propulsion units were putting out, and that would’ve given them a general direction to aim their light toward.”

“It’s also the perfect lure for a trap,” General Carabali cautioned. “I recommend when we reach that ship we first send a single shuttle in to check on it and see if there really are human survivors.”

“That’ll take extra time,” Vitali pointed out. “Every minute could count.”

“I realize that,” Carabali said. “Nonetheless, I believe it’s the only proper course of action.”

Everyone looked at Geary, because he’d have to decide this.

“Who’ll be on the shuttle?” Geary asked.

“Marines,” Carabali said. “An entry team to get through any barriers, a couple of corpsmen to conduct immediate medical assessments, and some muscle in case they run into trouble. They’ll all be volunteers,” she added.

Captain Vitali aimed a twisted smile at Geary, while Captain Desjani snorted in derision. He knew why. “Volunteer” was one of those words that meant something different to Marines than it did to the rest of humanity. In the Marines, “volunteering” consisted of a senior enlisted or an officer informing various Marines that they’d been chosen for the job.

But he couldn’t argue with Carabali’s logic. Risking a single shuttle and a squad of Marines made a lot more sense than sending a warship close to what could be a massive bomb. “Very well,” Geary said, a heaviness inside him as he spoke the words that might mean more deaths of those he was responsible for. “That’s what we’ll do. Now I want recommendations from everyone about whether we should try taking Passguard in tow for salvage.”

Captain Ochs shook his head again, looking worried. “Admiral, from the damage we can see, that ship is torn up bad. Passguard was a candidate for scrap before she was shot up. Even if we can take her under tow without the ship breaking in two, there’s unlikely to be anything aboard worth salvaging.”

“You don’t think we should even plan for a tow attempt?”

Ochs waved one hand slightly. “No, sir. That is, there’s no harm in planning. It’ll be good practice. But I don’t think we should expect Passguard will be in any shape to tow, or that she’ll be worth the effort.”

Kommodor Marphissa spoke up for the first time. “Midway does not want the wreck of a heavy cruiser sailing through our star system as a hazard.”

“The wreck’s not moving very fast,” Desjani pointed out. “And within a few months it’ll leave this star system and head into the big dark.”

“Nonetheless,” Marphissa said. “Its current track will take the wreck closer to our primary inhabited world than I am comfortable with.”

“If we can’t tow it,” Geary said, “we’ll make every effort to nudge it onto a vector up or down out of your star system so it’ll be clear of your own space traffic.”

“Thank you, Admiral.”

The Kommodor’s easy acceptance of his assurance earned Geary another sidelong look from Desjani. The people of Midway, raised under the duplicitous and everyone-for-themselves environment of the Syndicate Worlds, and conditioned by the long war to automatically distrust anyone from the Alliance as well, nonetheless had decided that Black Jack Geary was “for the people” and could be trusted to keep his word. Anyone else would’ve been pressed for guarantees. But not Black Jack.

“Our ships will assume positions far enough from the wreck that our shields can handle the explosion if Passguard’s power core blows,” Geary said. This part was easy, making decisions based on physical capabilities and limitations. “I want the battle cruisers to have their weapons locked on Passguard,” Geary said. “Captain Ochs, I want all of your cruisers to be watching for anything coming off of Passguard, and ready to engage. If the enigmas have planted anything mobile and dangerous on that ship, I want it taken out fast.”

“And Manticore?” Kommodor Marphissa asked.

“Are you willing to, um . . .” What was the most diplomatic way to put it? “Stand off and allow us to deal with any threats that develop?”

Marphissa glanced around the table as she considered the question. Finally, she nodded. “I saw your ships in action at Kane. Manticore will stand off and only engage if something hazardous gets past you.” Marphissa gave a thin smile to Desjani. “I doubt that will happen.”

Desjani returned the smile. “Nothing will get past us.”

*   *   *

THREE HOURS LATER, THE main propulsion units and thrusters on all of the warships ceased firing as the ships slid into position around Passguard, their vectors perfectly matched to that of the crippled cruiser so that the entire group of ships was moving through space as one. The two battle cruisers were closest, but still fifty kilometers away from the wreck, the assault transport Tsunami above and slightly to one side of Dauntless. The Alliance heavy cruisers were all one hundred kilometers out from the wreck, spaced around Passguard to catch anything that might launch from it. Midway’s cruiser Manticore was one hundred and fifty kilometers away, positioned to intercept anything that got past the heavy cruisers and headed farther in toward the star.

This close, the light still blinking an SOS from Passguard could have been dimly made out by the naked eye. The sensors on the warships had no trouble pinpointing its exact location. “It’s at a secondary access hatch forward of amidships,” Geary told General Carabali. “We can see two figures in survival suits who seem to be operating it. Launch your bird as soon as possible and find out if they’re for real.”

Carabali nodded. “They’re on their way, Admiral.”

“The enigmas like to generate images of virtual humans for visual communications,” Captain Desjani said, her eyes on her display where every hole in the ravaged hull of Passguard could be clearly seen. “Have they ever faked humans in survival suits or armor?”

“Using robots?” Geary asked. “Not according to the Kommodor. She sent a query on that to Colonel Rogero, since his forces engaged the enigmas at Iwa, but we haven’t received a reply yet.”

“Light speed is slow,” Desjani said in a resigned voice. “Look at that mess,” she added, nodding toward the image of the wreck.

“It’s amazing they were able to jump out of Pele,” Geary said. How had any of the crew survived? His suspicion that this might be an enigma trap designed to lure in human rescuers flared back to life.

The Marine shuttle swooped over Dauntless, zooming toward the wreck.

Geary called up a view from the shuttle as it closed on Passguard. The two figures in survival suits were still at the hatch, waving as the shuttle drew closer. Were they truly living survivors? Or puppets set to lure in would-be rescuers?

The outer access hatch that had once been part of Passguard’s hull was mostly gone, only a shattered fragment still hanging on to the inner hinge. Inside, the edges of torn and broken alloy marked the former air lock, the inner hatch barely visible wedged to one side. Aside from the two figures, no other sign of life could be seen even this close.

The shuttle matched vector to Passguard, hanging less than a dozen meters from where the two figures waited.

“Send in the reconnaissance team,” General Carabali ordered.

Four Marines left the shuttle, individual maneuvering packs on the backs of their battle armor pushing them swiftly across the small remaining gap.

GEARY LINKED HIS DISPLAY to one of the Marine scouts, seeing what the scout was seeing as she reached the side of Passguard. The two figures in survival suits certainly looked human from this close. Their faceplates were partially fogged by condensation, a sign of a suit with its life support on its last legs. But what could be seen were clearly human faces.

Static interspersed with words came over the circuit. “. . . need . . . all . . . fail . . .”

“Their suits’ power must be nearly dead,” the scout reported.

“They’re beckoning us to follow inside the ship.”

Geary waited. This was General Carabali’s call, unless she asked him for guidance or approval.

“Wait,” Carabali ordered. “Captain O’Bannon,” she said to the senior officer on the shuttle, “this looks real. Don’t waste time going in slow. Take your whole team in now.”

“Understood,” O’Bannon said. “Move it,” he told the other Marines on the shuttle. “This is still a potential threat environment until we see what’s inside. Stay frosty. Everyone stay together once we’re inside.”

As the remaining Marines jumped across the gap, Geary glanced at his display, where a prominent control pulsed red—his control over the weapons on the battle cruisers and heavy cruisers. Right now, they couldn’t fire, but could if he touched that control and shifted it to green. Should he have the warships stand down their weapons?

Not yet.

The last of the Marines reached the wreck, seizing onto the edge of a broken bulkhead. “Rodriguez, Udayar,” Captain O’Bannon ordered two of the scouts. “Remain here to relay communications and guard our exit point. Everyone else, follow me.”

As O’Bannon gestured to them, the two sailors from the Passguard nodded wordlessly before turning to lead the way inside the ship. Geary, now viewing events through the perspective of O’Bannon’s battle armor, saw a nightmarish tangle of wreckage that had once been passageways and compartments in the cruiser. Everyone moved carefully to avoid jagged edges even though the Marine battle armor would have protected them. Geary shivered as symbols popped up on O’Bannon’s face shield to mark lifeless bodies scattered among the broken shards of the ship.

Finally reaching an intact hatch, the sailors wrestled with it until O’Bannon ordered some of his Marines to help. Inside was a compartment that had been jury-rigged into an air lock. Instead of being brightly lit, it was gloomy, with only a dim glow from emergency lighting that was on the verge of giving out. Once the hatch was again closed, everyone waited as pressure built in the compartment. “That’s a slow pressure build,” Captain Ochs commented. He was in on the link, of course, but knew to remain silent unless he had something important to contribute. “Their pumps aren’t in good shape, or their power is really low.”

Cracking another hatch, the sailors from Passguard yanked open their survival suits, gasping for breath, sweat streaking their faces. Both were women, and both looked ready to collapse. But they stood watching the Marines, waiting for them to open their faceplates to talk.

Geary, seeing the red warning signs on the Marines’ faceplates, wasn’t surprised by Captain O’Bannon’s next words. “The air in here is pretty bad. Can I get a safety call on this?”

A doctor monitoring them from aboard Tsunami replied. “The atmosphere has a lot of volatized chemical compounds, the carbon dioxide level is higher than it should be, and the oxygen level is barely adequate. Nothing immediately hazardous, though. It’s okay to breathe for short periods, but no more than half an hour, tops.”

“Okay,” Captain O’Bannon said. “I’m unsealing.”

Geary heard O’Bannon cough in a way that sounded like he was gagging. “Volatized chemical compounds,” O’Bannon said. “Doc, next time just tell us it stinks in here.” He looked at the sailors, both of whom did their best to straighten to attention as they saluted.

“We ur . . . urgently,” one of the sailors said as if she was having trouble getting words out. “Need assistance. Life support is . . . nearly gone.”

“What’s working on this ship?” O’Bannon asked.

“Life support,” the other sailor said. “We’ve . . . shutdown . . . jump drive. Backup power . . . almost exhausted. Using . . . for life support.”

“Every . . . thingelse . . . gone,” the first sailor said.

The doctor on Tsunami called in again. “Remote readings of those two indicate severe dehydration. They look like they haven’t had much to eat for a while as well. We need to get them to medical as fast as possible.”

“Understood, Doc,” Captain O’Bannon said before addressing the two sailors again. “Who’s in command?”

“Lieutenant Velez. He put us . . . on watch. These are . . . last working suits. Told us . . . stayout . . . flashdistress . . . until someone came.”

“Smart move,” O’Bannon said. “Can you take me to him?”

Both sailors nodded and, stumbling, led the way deeper into the ship. The amount of emergency lighting still glowing varied by compartment, creating a strange tableau of shifting levels of light and shade as the Marines followed. Geary saw other survivors sprawled about the compartments, trying to conserve energy but attempting to rise as they saw the Marines. He realized that his right fist was clenched very tightly as he saw how bad those sailors looked. “General Carabali,” he called. “I’ve seen enough to be sure this isn’t a trap. Get the rest of Tsunami’s birds scrambled along with the mobile medical teams. I want to evacuate the surviving crew as fast as we can safely do it.”

“Understood, Admiral,” Carabali said.

Captain O’Bannon had reached a compartment that had once been an office, but now held haphazard piles of expired emergency gear and a single officer slumped at the desk.

“Lieutenant?” one of the sailors called. “Lieutenant, we’ve got help.”

“You’re in charge, Lieutenant?” Captain O’Bannon asked, his voice firm but not sharp.

The lieutenant jerked himself erect, staring as if unsure whether this was really happening. His eyes grew a little more alert as he struggled to his feet. “I . . . yes. I’m in command.” He paused, wavering slightly on his feet. “Lieutenant Velez.”

“How many of you are left, Lieutenant Velez?”

“I . . .”

“How many of your crew are left, Lieutenant?”

“Seven . . . seventy . . . three,” Velez said. “Request . . . aid.”

“You’ve got it. More is on the way. But we need to know something, Lieutenant. Did the enigmas ever board your ship? Could they have placed anything, any device, on your ship?”

Velez appeared confused for a long moment, then shook his head several times. “No. They never . . . never boarded us. They just . . . wanted to kill us. Destroy . . . the ship.”

“Thank you, Lieutenant.” Captain O’Bannon turned to his Marines. “Lopez, Tanaka,” he ordered the corpsmen, “start triaging so the medical teams coming from Tsunami know who to start with.”

“They should search the whole ship,” Desjani said to Geary. “Both to ensure the enigmas didn’t plant any surprises and to get ID data from every body they can find. They can also make sure no one else is alive in some separate portion of the ship.”

He nodded. “General, get some more Marines over there and search that ship from bow to stern. Assume there may be enigma devices present until we absolutely know there aren’t. We want to get DNA from all bodies and ensure there are no other survivors.”

“Yes, Admiral,” Carabali said. “I assume I should still prioritize shuttle runs for medical evacuations.”

“Yes,” Geary said. “Also have your people download any data that survives on the systems aboard the wreck. Every bit of existing data from every system, whether it’s knocked out or not. We’re going to need that for reconstructing what happened to that ship.” He reached over to his controls, shutting off the weapons release command. “All units, stand down weapons,” he ordered. “Captain Desjani, assemble a damage control team and send them over to the wreck with everything needed to rig a temporary new air lock on Passguard’s hull and connect it to the spaces that still have atmosphere.”

“Aye, aye, sir,” Desjani said. “Lieutenant Castries, notify Master Chief Gioninni that he’s to lead that team. I want them over there and setting up that temporary air lock so fast even the Marines will be impressed.”

Geary, frustrated and wanting to do more, but having done all he could, watched more shuttles launching from Tsunami, leaping outward on their way to the wreck that had once been the heavy cruiser Passguard.

“Do we have an estimated arrival time for medical teams?” Captain O’Bannon called. “I’m worried some of these space squids might not make it even a few more minutes. The air in here is horrible and from the looks of things they ran out of food and water a while back.”

“Five minutes, Captain O’Bannon,” General Carabali replied. “We’ve got wonder water and portable life support gear coming as well,” she added, using the Marine slang for emergency hydration fluid. “Tell those squids to hang on.”

“Will do, General.”

Geary sat back, closing his eyes to block out the views from the Marines already inside Passguard. “Seventy-three survivors. Out of what? Four hundred?”

“If the Rift Federation brought the crew up to full strength while they were home,” Desjani said. She glared angrily at her own display where the same images were visible. “We should make sure this footage is sent back to the Rift Federation, to the people who sent that ship out on a suicide mission. Let them see what happened to the ones who followed their orders.”

“Yeah,” Geary said. “We should definitely do that.”

The other shuttles were coming close to the wreck, disgorging more Marines hauling equipment, all of them moving with as much haste as possible under these conditions.

“Master Chief Gioninni reports he’s launching,” Lieutenant Castries said. “He estimates twenty minutes to get the temporary air lock rigged.”

“Tell him if he can do it in less than twenty I’ll give him a chance to fix the ship’s liquor inventory before I check it again.”

Geary gave Desjani a questioning look. “Gioninni has been skimming the official liquor supply?”

“Of course he has,” she replied. “But he’ll get that air lock rigged faster than anyone else could. Which may save some lives hanging in the balance.”

One thing the long war had done was perfect the fleet’s ability to provide emergency medical support. Geary just had to sit and watch while the medical teams boarded Passguard and went to work with skills and procedures honed over a century of dealing with wounded comrades. The Marine combat engineers were just as efficient with rigging up portable life support that began clearing the nearly toxic atmosphere inside the still-pressurized area inside the wreck. Nonetheless, Geary felt the common urge to issue an unnecessary order just for the sake of appearing to contribute something to the situation. But he fought it down, remembering similar “helpful” interventions by his own superiors in the past. “It’s funny how hard it is to not interfere with well-trained people who are doing their jobs well,” he commented to Desjani.

She nodded. “Everyone wants to feel important at a time like this. You already made the important decisions, Admiral.”

But after watching most of the survivors from Passguard evacuated to Tsunami it turned out he was still needed.

“Admiral? We have a problem.” General Carabali looked as if she wasn’t sure whether to be angry or not. “There’s only one survivor left aboard. Lieutenant Velez. He won’t leave the wreck.”

“Give me a relay to talk to him,” Geary said, guessing what was keeping Velez from leaving.

The link came through Captain O’Bannon’s battle armor. Geary could see Lieutenant Velez, more alert after receiving some emergency care and rations, standing stubbornly inside the temporary air lock. “This is Admiral Geary,” he said, trying to sound as if this were a routine situation. “What’s the problem, Lieutenant?”

Velez looked toward O’Bannon, his eyes wide, his mouth twitching. “I am acting commanding officer of the Rift Federation warship Passguard,” he said, the words coming out slowly but forcefully. “I will not abandon my ship.”

Geary sighed, understanding the lieutenant. Ground forces soldiers wouldn’t have. They didn’t have any equivalent to the powerful symbolism of a captain leaving his or her ship. But the Marines spent enough time around the fleet to know how strong the compulsion was for a captain not to leave their ship, and so had called for help rather than force Velez off the wreck. “Lieutenant Velez, it is the duty of a commanding officer to decide when it is appropriate and necessary to abandon a crippled vessel. You know the state of your ship. Passguard has been destroyed. There is no duty, no obligation, to remain aboard a ship that is no longer livable or capable of any action.”

“My duty is to remain with my ship,” Velez said, his voice stubborn even though it wavered because of his physical state.

“Your ship is dead. Your duty,” Geary said, “is to your surviving crew. If you stay aboard what remains of Passguard, who will look after your crew? Those sailors need you, Lieutenant. You can do nothing for that ship. But your crew needs you. You’ve brought them this far. Don’t abandon them now.”

Velez blinked in confusion, shaking. Finally, he nodded. “Yes. I . . . I need to see to the crew.”

The medical personnel near Velez, sensing their moment, gently guided him through the air lock.

“That’s the last of them,” Captain O’Bannon said as Velez left.

“Stay in place for now,” General Carabali ordered. “Have your people record everything they can. No one has spotted any enigma souvenirs, but stay alert. Medical is sending over survey bots to go over the entire structure of the wreck looking for DNA fragments. We want to account for as many of the crew as possible.”

A half hour later, Dr. Nasr, Dauntless’s chief medical officer, called Geary. “Admiral, I’ve been able to get an update,” he said, his voice heavy. “Five of those aboard Passguard were already dead when our medical teams reached them. That leaves sixty-eight survivors. The doctors aboard Tsunami are confident they won’t lose any more.”

“How long had those five been dead?” Geary asked, dreading to hear it might have been a matter of hours or even minutes.

“Three had died more than a day ago,” Nasr said. “The other two perhaps half a day. Dehydration, malnutrition, foul air, and in the case of four of them injuries sustained during combat against the enigmas. We could not have gotten to any of the five in time to save them.”

“Thank you, Doctor,” Geary said. Was Dr. Nasr telling him the truth, or telling him things that would spare his feelings? Either way, those sailors had died before their ship could arrive at Midway and before help could reach them.

He went back to his stateroom, wanting to be alone for a little while, so he could be without everyone looking to him for guidance and example. Slumping back in his seat, he rubbed his eyes as if that would help calm his thoughts. Why did some live and others die? Why couldn’t he have saved those five? But he hadn’t even had a chance to do that. They’d been doomed before they escaped from the enigmas.

At least he’d saved the other sixty-eight.

His door alarm sounded, creating an answering burst of irritation in him. Couldn’t he have five minutes to himself? But he knew whoever had come must have an important reason, and so pressed the entry approval.

Captain Desjani came in. She left the door open behind her, as she always did when visiting his stateroom. “How are you doing, Admiral?”

“I’ve been worse.” He looked away from her and found his gaze on an image of the battered interior of Passguard, which did nothing for his mood. He realized that one fist was tightly clenched, as if ready to throw a punch, but at what he didn’t know. “What’s up?”

“We need to discuss something. I know we had agreed to alter the vector of Passguard so it’d leave the star system, but you can’t send that wreck into the big dark,” Desjani said. “There are a lot of remains of her crew aboard, even if some of those remains might be only a patch of dead cells. They need a proper burial.”

“I don’t—” Geary rubbed his face with both hands, wondering why her words rattled him so badly. Why this whole thing was rattling him the way it was. He’d seen so many ships destroyed in the last few years. It still hurt, but it was a hurt he’d grown miserably accustomed to.

Hadn’t he? “What’s wrong with me?”

She sighed. “I think you know, but won’t consciously think about it. It’s an anniversary.”

“Anniversary?” He glared at her, wondering why she’d bring up something personal between them at this time. “We didn’t get married on this date. And even if we did we’re not supposed to even think about that while aboard ship and on duty.”

“No, Admiral,” Desjani said, her use of his rank emphasizing that this wasn’t a personal matter. “It’s an anniversary for you. One hundred and two years ago today you ordered the crew of Merlon to abandon ship in Grendel Star System. You know that inside, but you’re not allowing yourself to realize it.”

He inhaled sharply, those events coming into painfully clear focus. His cruiser Merlon had been escorting a convoy, as a training exercise rather than out of any belief that there was danger, but while passing through Grendel had encountered a Syndic flotilla on its way to launch a surprise attack on the Alliance. He’d ordered the convoy to run for safety and warn of the incoming attack, and had been forced to sacrifice his ship in a desperate rearguard action to give them time to get away. The last one off his ship after he ordered the surviving crew to abandon it, he’d been left with only a damaged escape pod that had frozen him into survival sleep. Everyone had thought him dead.

The Alliance, reeling from the surprise Syndic attacks, had declared him a great hero. For nearly a century afterwards as the unwinnable war dragged on, the Alliance had kept inflating his reputation, using the example of Black Jack to inspire its people. And when he’d finally been found after nearly a hundred years and awakened aboard this same ship Dauntless, his first sight that of Captain Tanya Desjani, he’d discovered that everyone thought he was someone he’d never been. Everyone he’d ever known was dead, and everyone now alive thought he was the hero who could save them.

They’d needed him, so he’d done his best to be that person. Even as he discovered a century of war had warped the people of the Alliance in some ways their ancestors would’ve been appalled by. He’d also done his best to show them that the things they were doing because they were “necessary to win” had not only not resulted in victory, but had tarnished and set back their own cause.

“Admiral?” Tanya said, her voice unusually gentle, but still fully professional. “Are you okay?”

“Yes.” He took another deep breath, more slowly. The latest meds could dull the pain of the past, but not wipe it away. “I knew it subconsciously, but didn’t want to consciously acknowledge it.”

“Did you have another nightmare recently?”

“Yes.” Geary shut his eyes for a moment, which was a mistake since it let the images from last night stand out more strongly. “The usual one. Stumbling through the wreck of my cruiser, seeing my dead crew members all around, wondering why I was still alive. Why I had any right to be alive.” He paused. “I even see people like Cara Decala, my executive officer, lying dead. She got off the ship. I know that. She died years later, in another battle, while I was frozen in survival sleep. But I see her dead then.”

“Survivor guilt is hard to handle,” Desjani said. It might have sounded glib, except that he knew how well she understood what she’d said. Tanya had also lost a lot of friends. “But keeping it inside doesn’t make it better. You need to talk to the doc, or to me or Duellos, and get more meds if you need them. Don’t try to fight this battle on your own.”

He nodded, trying to focus on here and now. “You’re right.”

“I always am.”

And somehow she had once again managed to rally his spirit when the burdens seemed too heavy to bear. “You actually keep track of that date?”

“The whole fleet does,” she said, smiling a bit as he flinched. “There used to be commemoration ceremonies every year on the anniversary of Black Jack’s Last Stand.”

“Ancestors save me,” Geary said, glad that he’d never had to witness any of those ceremonies. “Why haven’t—”

“When you came back, it didn’t seem right to keep celebrating your heroic death. During the ceremonies we all took an oath to follow your brave and epic example,” Tanya added.

“All right. You’ve successfully distracted me. Please don’t recite that oath to me.” Now that he understood the source of his distress, he could master it as he took a few moments to think while Tanya waited patiently. “The dead crew members of that ship do deserve proper burials. What happens if we instead alter Passguard’s track to send the wreck into the sun?” He knew she would have already worked that out.

“We can do it so it poses no real threat to navigation,” she said. “Two of the heavy cruisers and some portable maneuvering units attached to the wreck can gradually swing it onto a vector that’s safe.”

“Completely safe?”

“Mostly safe.”

“Okay.” Another pause to think. Finally, Geary touched his display to activate the comms on it. “Kommodor Marphissa, this is Admiral Geary. I know we’d agreed to divert the track of Passguard’s wreck into the dark between stars, but we’ve discovered many dead aboard. We have to give those dead an honorable burial. Will Midway agree to allow us to alter the track of the wreck so it ends in Midway’s star? I am assured we can do so without unduly hazarding navigation within your star system, but I recognize your right to have the final say in this. To the honor of our ancestors, Geary, out.”

With Manticore so close, Marphissa replied within minutes, her eyes searching Geary. “Admiral, I do not entirely understand your request. Why is it necessary for the wreck to be consumed by our star?”

“It’s our belief,” Geary explained. “Everyone, and everything, came from the furnaces of the stars. Eventually, we all return to the stars, to someday be reborn. A proper burial in space is always aimed at sending the deceased into the nearest star to rest until the day they return.”

Midway’s Kommodor eyed Geary. “It’s religion, then. You understand, the Syndicate outlawed such beliefs. The Syndicate didn’t want any rival for control of the people. It couldn’t stamp out such things, but what . . . metaphysical belief systems existed had to remain hidden and thus are very fragmented. Are you saying the Alliance has just one such belief?”

“No,” Geary said. “There’s one broad consensus of belief, but within that are numerous shadings, from fairly rigid interpretations with strict rules to simple spiritual feelings that lack any structure. And of course there are those who don’t believe in such things at all. Military burials are designed to be acceptable to as wide a range of beliefs as possible, because we have all too often had to conduct mass burials.”

“And this proper burial matters greatly to you?”

“It does,” Geary said.

Marphissa nodded. “Then out of respect for you, at least, I will give conditional approval. But this is something I must ask President Iceni to give final approval on. I will contact her and let her know this is a matter of importance to you.”

“Thank you, Kommodor,” Geary said.

“It is only a small thing.” Marphissa paused. “Those of us raised in the Syndicate tend to believe in nothing because all we were taught to believe in was false.”

“I’m sorry,” Geary said. “What you believe should be your choice. It’s unfortunate that you weren’t given any choice.”

Marphissa smiled slightly. “But now I have a choice. I believe in President Iceni and in what she seeks to do. I chose that. And the Syndicate has not been able to stop me. I will contact you as soon as I receive a reply from President Iceni.”

*   *   *

THE MOOD IN THE conference room aboard Dauntless usually varied depending on the topic. This time it felt as somber as a funeral home. The virtual presence of Lieutenant Velez sat at the table, his eyes clear but haunted. Geary sat opposite him, Tanya Desjani to his right. Dr. Nasr was seated next to and watching Lieutenant Velez, even though doctors aboard Tsunami were monitoring his health. Lieutenant Iger, the intelligence officer aboard Dauntless, was also present, though maintaining a low profile.

Kommodor Marphissa’s virtual presence sat at the table as well, a matter that had occasioned some debate on whether a representative of a foreign power should be present. But since this matter intimately involved the enigmas, Geary had decided she should be here.

“How are you doing, Lieutenant?” Geary asked.

Velez made a small shrug, his face working. Even though he’d received emergency care, the bones on his face still stood out against skin drawn tight by days of stress and lack of food. “I am . . . well.” He looked up as if suddenly remembering something, his eyes on Geary. “Thank you. Thank you, Admiral, for your aid. For ensuring no more lives were lost.”

“I’m only sorry we couldn’t save more. Can you tell us what happened?”

Lieutenant Velez rubbed his face, his hand moving with quick, jerky twitches. “I do not know if that is . . . authorized.”

Desjani leaned forward a bit. “Lieutenant, you and your ship fought alongside us in a lot of battles. We haven’t forgotten that. We’re not asking for Rift Federation secrets. But we are supposed to proceed through enigma space soon. Anything you can tell us might help us avoid the fate of Passguard.”

Velez flinched, then nodded. “We reached Pele Star System. There were enigma picket ships posted at the jump points for Hua and Hina.”

“Hua has been renamed,” Geary said. “Apparently the name too closely resembled that of a notorious and dead Syndic CEO, so Midway has changed the name of that star to Lalotai. I told them we’d respect that even though we don’t have to.”