HE was back on the bridge an hour before the fleet would reach the jump point for Alihi and roughly thirty-five minutes before the fleet would face the possibility of being overtaken by a nova-scale burst of energy from a collapsing hypernet gate. Because of lower-than-optimum acceleration by not only the largest auxiliaries but also some of the battleships, the fleet had lagged behind projections, and so would have a slightly longer period of exposure to that threat.
“Orion didn’t keep up,” Geary grumbled to himself.
“Neither did Revenge and Indomitable,” Desjani commented as if to herself. “You can test and tweak all you want, but sometimes equipment problems don’t show up until you actually push your gear.”
“I know that.”
“I know you know that.”
He decided not to continue that conversation.
Ten minutes until the vulnerability period began. Geary found himself staring at the depiction of the alien hypernet gate, even though there was no possible way for it to have begun collapsing unless the aliens had ordered that before the fleet even left the first jump point.
Two more alien warships had joined the first two chasing one light hour behind the Alliance fleet, moving with that unbelievable maneuverability the aliens had demonstrated at Midway.
Five minutes. The watch-standers on the bridge were all trying to act as if they were carrying out routine work, but Geary noticed their gazes repeatedly fastening on one point before each of them, the place where their own displays would be showing the alien hypernet gate.
Another necessary action had to be taken now, one contrary to every instinct to keep heading for that jump point at maximum speed. But a ship going too fast couldn’t enter jump. “All ships pivot one eight zero degrees at time five zero and brake to point one light speed.” They would be slowing down now, lengthening the period of time when danger was the greatest, but nothing could be done about that.
One minute.
Desjani yawned. “It’ll be nice to get somewhere we have the possibility of action, right, Lieutenant Yuon?”
Yuon took a moment to swallow before he answered in a fairly steady voice. “Yes, Captain.”
“How was your family on Kosatka?” Desjani continued.
“Fine, ma’am. They mainly wanted to talk about . . . you know.”
Geary glanced back at Yuon, trying to match Desjani’s own casual words. “I hope you painted me in a good light, Lieutenant.”
“Uh, yes, sir.”
“Entering vulnerability period,” the maneuvering watch announced.
Desjani pulled out a ration bar. “Hungry?” she asked Geary.
“I had something earlier. Is that a Yanika Babiya?”
“No. It’s . . .” She squinted at the label. “Spicy chicken curry.”
“A chicken curry ration bar? How are they?”
Taking a small bite, Desjani chewed slowly, pretending not to be aware that everyone on the bridge was watching her instead of staring at the representation of the alien hypernet gate. “It’s definitely got curry in it. Spicy, not so much. Some of the other stuff tastes like chicken.”
“That doesn’t narrow it down too much, does it?” Geary said.
“Every kind of meat in a ration bar tastes like chicken, Captain,” Lieutenant Castries suggested. “Except the chicken.”
“You’re right, Lieutenant,” Desjani said. “Real chicken in ration bars tastes like, what, mutton?”
“Ham,” Yuon tossed in. “Bad ham.”
“So this can’t be chicken because it tastes like chicken,” Desjani concluded.
“Fifteen minutes to jump,” the maneuvering watch reported.
Geary checked the deceleration of his ships, seeing that all were braking at the proper rate to be down to point one light speed when they reached the jump point.
“What do you suppose the aliens taste like?” Desjani wondered.
“We can’t eat them,” Geary said. “They’re sentient.”
“Humans sometimes eat other humans in emergencies,” she pointed out. “Like after a shipwreck. It’s almost a naval tradition.”
“I’ve heard that,” Geary said. “Aren’t you supposed to eat the most junior personnel first?”
“That’s what I’ve heard.” Desjani looked toward her watch-standers. “Just so we have things planned out in advance, which one of you has the latest date of rank?”
The lieutenants exchanged looks and grins. “Actually, Captain,” Castries said, “Yuon and I were promoted on the same day.”
“Well, we can’t eat both of you right off the bat. I assume you’d object to using alphabetical order to decide the problem, Lieutenant Castries?”
“Not if we used first names, Captain,” Castries replied. “Mine is Xenia.”
“That would be hard to beat,” Desjani said. “Wouldn’t it, Lieutenant Bhasan Yuon?”
Yuon shook his head. “I really think Lieutenant Castries would make a better meal, Captain. I’d be tough and lean.”
“Five minutes to jump,” the maneuvering watch said.
“Maybe you two could flip a coin.” Desjani raised one finger, looking inspired. “No. I’ll just get an ensign assigned to this watch team.”
“Ensign slash emergency food supply?” Geary asked.
“We don’t have to put that in the position’s job description. It might discourage volunteers.”
“Master Chief Gioninni?” Yuon suggested.
“Lieutenant Yuon,” Desjani replied, “if Master Chief Gioninni were in the escape pod with us, he’d somehow trick the rest of us into getting eaten until he and any remaining survivors sailed grandly into some safe harbor, perhaps a world where Gioninni would convince the inhabitants to make him their ruler for life.”
Geary was watching his fleet now, sparing only quick glances for the alien hypernet gate, which still showed no signs of beginning to collapse. None of the ships were lagging anymore, every one matching pace with the others. Two minutes remaining. The fleet would jump automatically when the maneuvering systems detected that it was in position, so he didn’t even have to order the jump this time, which might have cost a few extra, critical seconds.
“One minute to jump,” the maneuvering watch said.
“It takes the gates more than a minute to collapse,” Desjani said, “and we haven’t seen it start. We’re clear.”
“Yes,” Geary agreed. “We are.” He tapped his controls. “All units, the aliens may be using their faster-than-light comm capability to muster forces at Alihi. Be ready for a fight when we exit jump.”
Forty seconds later, the fleet jumped for Alihi.
Desjani sighed and stood up as the gray of jump space replaced the alien threat at Hina. “I’m tired, and for some reason I’m hungry. I’m going to get something to eat.” She leaned closer to Geary. “Next time you come up with something to distract everyone.”
“I won’t be able to equal you.”
“No, but you can do your best, Admiral.” With that parting shot, Desjani left the bridge.
JUMP space always tended to make humans uncomfortable. Humans didn’t belong in jump space. Maybe nothing really belonged there. Maybe the strange lights that came and went were reflections of something happening somewhere else. At some level beneath conscious thought, humans could never be at home in jump space, growing more irritable with every consecutive day spent there.
But whatever was bothering Geary during this jump to Alihi felt different from the usual jump jitters. Something that Desjani had said kept coming back, like a shadow half-glimpsed repeatedly. If you’ve got a knife . . . Why did the idea of the aliens wielding knives trouble him so?
Normal communications were impossible in jump, but between the time he had fought his battle at Grendel a century ago and when he had been found still alive in survival sleep, humanity had figured out how to send brief, simple messages between ships. On the fourth day of the jump, barely eight hours from exit at Alihi, a message came from Mistral for Geary.