“But how can we beat the Syndics if the aliens are actively helping them?” Cresida demanded.
Duellos’s frown deepened. “I’ll be damned if I know the answer to that.”
For some reason everyone else turned to look at Geary.
He stared back at them. “What? Do you think I know how to do that?”
To his surprise, Cresida answered. “Sir, you have shown an ability to see things the rest of us take for granted or just haven’t thought about. Perhaps it’s because you’ve got an outside viewpoint in many ways, or perhaps you’re, um, being inspired to see things the rest of us cannot.”
Being inspired? What could that mean? Geary looked around at Cresida and the others, and saw the meaning, from Cresida’s slightly embarrassed expression to Desjani’s calm belief to Rione’s measuring glance. “You believe the living stars are telling me things? I’d think I’d know if that was happening.”
Duellos frowned slightly again. “No, you wouldn’t,” he corrected. “That’s not how they work. Or not how they’re supposed to work.”
“No one knows how they work! Why after all we’ve been through would you think I’m getting divine inspiration?”
Desjani answered. “You keep telling us in private deliberations that you’re just a normal man, not exceptional. But you keep doing exceptional things. Either you are an extraordinary man, or you’re receiving extraordinary assistance, and I’m not vain enough to believe any aid I provide is that special.”
That was a neat little logic trap. “Captain Desjani, all of you, any extraordinary assistance I’m getting is from you.” Every face somehow conveyed disagreement. “You can’t risk the fate of this fleet, of the Alliance, on some vague belief that I’ll receive divine inspiration whenever I need it.”
“We’re not,” Tulev stated. “We’re basing it on what you’ve done so far. Just keep doing it.” A rare smile showed on his face as Tulev signaled that he understood the half-joking/ half-unreasonable nature of his statement.
Just keep doing it. Save the fleet. Win the war. Confront and deal with a nonhuman foe of unknown characteristics and power. Geary couldn’t help laughing. “I’ll try. But no inspiration is coming to me right now. I need all of you to keep doing what you’ve been doing, providing invaluable support, advice, and assistance.”
Cresida shook her head. “I wish I could think of some advice for dealing with the aliens. At least thinking about that will give us something to do while the fleet is in jump space en route to Branwyn.”
Three days later, Geary gave the order to jump, and the Alliance fleet left Lakota Star System for the second and, hopefully, last time.
AFTER the many stresses of recent weeks and the struggles within Lakota Star System, the days spent in jump space on the way to Branwyn proved a welcome though brief period of recovery. Everyone kept working hard to repair battle damage, but they were able to relax a bit emotionally and mentally. Despite the eeriness of jump space, Geary found himself regretting the return to normal space when they reached their destination.
The star-system-status display, loaded with information from captured Syndic star-system directories, updated itself with actual observations as the Alliance fleet’s sensors evaluated the human presence at Branwyn. Surprisingly, the star had more Syndic presence than expected. Most star systems bypassed by the hypernet had declined either slowly or quickly as the space traffic that had once been required to pass through them using the jump drives had instead used the hypernet gates to go directly between any two points on the hypernet.
But here in Branwyn the mining facilities that made up most of the human presence were significantly larger than in the decades-old Syndicate Worlds’ star-system guides the Alliance fleet had captured at Sancere. “Why?” Geary wondered out loud.
Desjani shook her head, apparently baffled as well. “There’s no Syndic military presence here. No picket ships, no force guarding against us. I’ve never seen an occupied Syndic system without at least an internal-security-forces facility.”
Information kept updating on the display, revealing a few cargo ships running to and from one of the other jump points in Branwyn Star System. “Where does the jump point lead?”
He saw the answer even as a watch-stander called it out. “Sortes Star System, sir.”
A robust Syndic presence in a hypernet-bypassed star system, with apparently regular traffic to another nearby star system with a hypernet gate. But there didn’t appear to be anything being mined here that wouldn’t also be present at Sortes. “What the hell?” Geary muttered.
Victoria Rione laughed, drawing his attention. “None of you understand this? Don’t you realize what you’re seeing? This is all unauthorized, a pirate facility if you will, set up by Syndic corporations seeking to bypass central controls and taxation. Everything they pull out of here hasn’t been regulated or taxed, which more than makes up for the extra costs of smuggling the material into hypernet-linked star systems and covering up its origin.”
“How would you know that?” Geary asked.
“Because similar operations spring up in Alliance space from time to time. It’s illicit, but it’s profitable. One of the hobbies of the Alliance Senate is passing laws trying to ensure that no one can get away with it, but people are always looking for and finding loopholes.”
An illicit operation. Geary wondered whether the people of Branwyn would provide aid to the stricken Lakota Star System or simply hunker down to avoid being caught. “Let’s send them the recording of what happened at Lakota and the plea from the habitable planet there. What will happen if the Syndic authorities or their military find out about this place?”
Rione shrugged. “Some of them surely already know. I imagine bribes to the right people keep that knowledge secure. Having us pass through here might draw too much attention to cover up, though.”
He checked the maneuvering display. “It’ll only take four days for us to reach the jump point for Wendig. The auxiliaries are already drawing down the raw materials we looted at Lakota. Do you think we can trust the Syndics here to provide unsabotaged raw materials if we demand them?”
“Trust a pirate operation? How much profit could you offer them?”
“None,” Geary replied.
“Then that’s how much trust you could have in them.”
WITH the Syndic presence in Branwyn showing every sign of hasty emergency evacuation and no threats toward the Alliance fleet, Geary found himself restless. Unable to sit still and think, he started taking more long walks through the passageways of Dauntless. Battle cruisers were large ships, but not so large that such walks didn’t often encounter Captain Desjani doing her own thinking and maintaining a constant presence among her crew. Ironically, being openly seen with Desjani was a far better defense against rumors of unprofessional conduct than avoiding her would be, because if they weren’t seen walking and talking together, then gossip would assume they were together in places where they couldn’t be seen doing things they didn’t want seen.
Most of the conversation kept to professional topics. The war, ship-handling, the merits of different classes of ships, tactics, logistics, personnel matters, and where the fleet should go next. Not the sort of thing anyone overhearing could possibly construe as social conversations, though Desjani did have a passion for those topics. She truly did love being a fleet officer.
But as time went by Desjani spoke more of her home planet Kosatka and Alliance space in general, of her family, and gradually drew Geary out on the same topics. He found himself bringing up memories that had been too painful to consider, thoughts of people and places now vanished, surprised that he could speak of them with her and feel a sense not only of melancholy but also of release.
“You told me a while ago that you knew someone on Dreadnaught,” Desjani brought up once, as they walked through a long passageway running toward the propulsion spaces. It was well into the ship’s night, and only an occasional sailor or officer went past on an errand through the darkened passage.