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  “That looks like an awful lot of Xs and Ys,” Geary commented as he read the intercepted requisition.

  “Yes, sir.” Iger blew out a long breath. “Assuming it’s a standard sixty-day supply, which the Syndics tend to adhere to, and a standard mix of units, this requisition would cover a force estimated to include fifteen to twenty battleships, fifteen to twenty battle cruisers, and somewhere between one hundred and two hundred heavy cruisers, light cruisers, and Hunter-Killers.”

  Geary felt a lot of reactions, some of them very negative. How could a Syndic force of that size still exist?

  His fleet had fought heroically and taken serious losses, but the path home had finally seemed clear. Right up until that moment. He tried to focus on the most constructive questions. “This definitely isn’t related to the force we just destroyed?”

  “No, sir. Definitely not. It was being sent out of the star system.”

  “You’re estimating that a Syndic force of that size exists right now and is in a star system not too far from here?”

  “Yes, sir.” Give Iger full credit, he didn’t try to weasel around when it came to bad news.

  “How? How did the Syndics have a force of that size that our intelligence resources weren’t aware of before this?”

  Iger pointed again. “We can only guess, sir, but I think it’s a good guess. Some of the message traffic we believe is related to this reserve flotilla mentions two Syndic star systems. Surt and Embla.”

  “Surt? Embla?” The names were vaguely familiar, though Geary couldn’t remember why. “I can’t recall where those are.”

  “That’s because they’re a long ways from Alliance space,” Iger advised, moving to the star display nearby. “Here. On the Syndic border farthest from the Alliance.”

  It suddenly all made sense. “A reserve flotilla. Held on the Syndic border facing the aliens as insurance in case the aliens attacked the Syndics.”

  “Yes, sir,” Iger agreed. “That seems like the most reasonable interpretation. A force kept so far from us that the Alliance couldn’t pick up indications of it and never knew of its existence. But now the Syndics are so worried about our getting home with a Syndic hypernet key that they pulled that reserve flotilla out of position to try to stop us.”

  “Damn. We didn’t need that.”

  “No, sir.”

  “Any idea where they are now?” Geary asked, eyeing the star display.

  “Not too far from here,” Iger suggested. “A star system within one or two jumps. That’s our best guess. Or they were there fairly recently.”

  “Kalixa? It was a possible objective for us from Dilawa. They could have defended the hypernet gate there, and the gate would allow them to shift position quickly if we ended up not going to Kalixa.”

  Iger nodded. “That’s as good a guess as any, sir. But the picket ships from here will be at Kalixa soon to tell them we went to Heradao, so they’ll probably shift to a star system blocking our way home from here.”

  One more big battle left to fight, then, with a possibly veteran force that was fully supplied with fuel cells and expendable weaponry. His anger at this turn of fate shifted as Geary thought about what might have happened if the Alliance fleet had run into the Syndic reserve flotilla without warning that it even existed.

  “Lieutenant Iger, you and your people have done an outstanding job. This is critically important information. Well done.”

  Iger beamed. “Thank you, sir. I’ll make certain everyone in intelligence knows you said that.” But then the intelligence officer looked uneasy. “Sir, I know our first priority is worrying about the consequences of this for us, but if the Syndics have been maintaining for who knows how long a major force along their border with whatever those aliens are, they must have had good reason to be wary of what the aliens might do. What if the aliens realize the reserve flotilla is gone from the border?”

  “Good point, Lieutenant, but I’m sure they already know.” Geary indicated the symbols for hypernet gates. “If those aliens can redirect ships within a hypernet, that means they can tell when ships are using that hypernet, and the only way that reserve flotilla could have come that far in any reasonable amount of time is by using the Syndic hypernet.”

  “Then they know they have a window of opportunity.” Iger bit his lip. “And if we destroy this reserve flotilla, which we’ll have to do if we encounter it, then that window will be as big as a supernova.”

  Geary studied the Syndicate Worlds’ territory portrayed on the star display, imagining what could happen if the Syndic leaders lost their grip on dissident star systems, if their fleet was temporarily too weak to defend Syndic space, if the aliens chose to attack at that point. From what Geary knew of history, one of the truisms of empires was that they were only as strong as their ability to keep their own populace in line. If they lost that, empires tended to fall apart very rapidly, and the Syndicate Worlds were in many ways an empire in all but name.

  He needed to destroy this Syndic reserve flotilla in order to get his own fleet home. But by doing that he might be triggering events in which many Syndic-controlled star systems ended up like Heradao.

  “Sir?” Iger asked, interrupting Geary’s train of thought. “Do we have any idea what the intentions of the aliens are?”

  “No, Lieutenant. Just guesses based on far too few facts. Just as important as intentions, we have no idea what their capabilities may be. We still know practically nothing about these aliens. Lieutenant Iger, if we run into that reserve flotilla we need to capture as many senior Syndic officers from it as possible and find out what they know. Surely they would have been briefed on whatever the Syndics have managed to learn about the aliens.”

  “Most likely, sir,” Iger agreed, then looked aggravated. “Although you’d be surprised how many times people get totally focused on keeping a secret and try to keep important information like that from those who need it the most for fear of its being compromised.”

  “That still happens? Well, hell, of course it does. It was probably happening back when those original Persian donkeys were making noise.”

  TIME for another fleet conference. He didn’t hate them nearly as much as he used to, but was still acutely aware that some of the officers among those whose images were shown around the virtual table were actively plotting against him and ships of the fleet itself. Most of the commanding officers of the fleet’s ships seemed cheerful though, after the latest victory and knowing how close they were to home. Unfortunately, it was also time to break the bad news. “I’ve asked Lieutenant Iger from intelligence to be present so he can brief everyone on something he and I have already discussed.” Waving toward Iger, Geary sat down. Since he already knew the content of Iger’s briefing, he spent the time watching the reactions to the news.

  Cheerfulness faded into disbelief, followed by a general sense of anger. Captain Armus put the feelings into words. “How could our intelligence be so wrong?”

  Geary answered. “As Lieutenant Iger explained, this reserve flotilla has been kept so far from Alliance space that there were no indicators of its existence that we could detect.”

  “Why?” Daring’s commanding officer asked. “That’s a lot of ships, and I know the Syndics could have used them at different times in the past. Why leave them sitting on the border of Syndic space farthest from the Alliance?”

  “We can only speculate as to the reasons,” Geary replied. Strictly speaking, he was being truthful. Everything known about the aliens on that side of Syndic space was speculation. “But they did do it, and now it seems they’ve brought that flotilla here.”

  “Where are they?” Dragon’s commanding officer questioned Iger.

  “We believe they’re somewhere within a jump or two of Heradao.”

  Geary pulled up the star display for the region. “When we arrived in Heradao, Captain Desjani and I wondered why the Syndic flotilla here had left a clear path open for Kalixa. It may well be that the reserve flotilla was waiting for us
at Kalixa. If we’d gone that way, the Syndic flotilla here would have followed and we would have been trapped between two powerful enemy forces.”

  “Typical Syndic trick,” Captain Badaya complained. “How long will they wait at Kalixa to see if we show up?”

  Desjani pointed to the display. “A Syndic HuK stationed at the jump point to Kalixa jumped that way after we’d defeated the flotilla here. There’s another near that jump point that’s waiting to see which we way we go, and, of course, there are two HuKs hanging around the jump point for Padronis.”

  Badaya studied the display, then nodded. “Atalia. They’ll know when we jump for Padronis, they’ll know we can’t reach Kalixa from Padronis, so they’ll head for Atalia and try to stop us there since they know we have to go that way.”

  “That’s a very good estimate,” Geary agreed. “It’s what Lieutenant Iger and I came up with, too.”

  “We seem to be glossing over some major failures,” Captain Kila said in a mild tone at odds with her words. “Somebody just misplaced a Syndic flotilla comprised in part of twenty battleships and twenty battle cruisers?” Lieutenant Iger, visibly uncomfortable, started to answer her. “No, Lieutenant. I’m not interested in hearing excuses. If you were a line officer you’d be relieved for cause and—”

  “Captain Kila.” Something in Geary’s voice made even Kila stop speaking. “Lieutenant Iger works for me, not you. If not for the efforts of him and his subordinates, we wouldn’t even know this flotilla existed.”

  Kila turned a hard look on Geary. “Just for the record, then, Captain Geary, you don’t believe in holding people accountable for their failures?”

  Something inside Geary snapped. “If I did, Captain Kila, I would hold you accountable for the loss of the battle cruiser Opportune.”

  Dead silence fell.

  Out of the corner of his eye, Geary could see Desjani giving him a warning look. He knew what she’d be saying out loud if she could. You can’t condemn an officer in this fleet for being too aggressive. None of your officers will accept that, not even now.

  Kila seemed to be searching for just the right reply.

  Captain Caligo spoke up before Kila could. “We need to focus on the future, not the past. The Syndics are the enemy, not our fellow officers.”

  The words were unexceptional, but perhaps because of that the tension eased.

  “Caligo’s right. It doesn’t matter where the Syndics came from,” Warspite’s captain declared. “We’re going to meet them at Atalia. That’s all I care about.”

  Geary took a deep breath. “Right. We’ll go into a final battle formation just before jumping for Atalia from Padronis. The worst case for us will be a fight right off the jump exit, but the Syndics seem to have abandoned that tactic. Once we have time to evaluate their position and formation, we’ll move in and hurt them.”

  “We’re going to be very low on fuel cells,” Tulev observed. “The loss of Goblin couldn’t be helped, but it made things worse.”

  “I know. That just means we have to win despite the logistics situation.” As plans went, that was inspiring but totally useless. He couldn’t think of anything else to say, though.

  “We’re better than they are,” Desjani interjected calmly. “We can fight smarter and harder.” Officers were perking up around the table at her words. Badaya gave Desjani an approving look that Desjani didn’t seem to notice. Kila gave her an equally scornful look, but Desjani ignored that as well. “We’ll win again, because we also have a combat leader the Syndics cannot match.”

  That went over very well. Even Tulev quirked a small smile. “I cannot argue with Captain Desjani on that last. I have full confidence in Captain Geary, based on his record against the enemy.”

  “Thank you,” Geary said. “Now, you all know what we’ll face. We’ll deal with this Syndic flotilla just as we have the other enemy flotillas we’ve encountered. I consider the chances of that reserve flotilla being at Padronis to be very small, but we’ll also be ready when we arrive there just in case. I’ll see you all again at Padronis.”

  When the virtual presences had all vanished, and Lieutenant Iger had hastened out of the room with ill-concealed relief, Geary turned to Desjani with an apologetic shrug. “Sorry. I know I lost it with Kila.”

  “It’s what she wanted,” Desjani pointed out. “She’s an enemy, sir, and you need to follow the same rules with her that you do with the Syndics. Don’t let her lure you into an ambush.”

  “Okay. I got it. Next time I start to say something stupid, give me a good swift kick.”

  Desjani raised both eyebrows. “That would certainly earn me some interesting glances. Lately, I’m already getting too many of those as it is every time I open my mouth.”

  “Uh, yeah. Maybe instead you should just discreetly give me your don’t-go-there look.”

  “I have a don’t-go-there look?”

  “Hell, yes. Don’t pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about.”

  “I haven’t any idea.” Desjani headed for the hatch. “Just be careful what you say around Kila. She’s waiting to pounce.”

  “One more thing.” Desjani paused, waiting for Geary to continue. “Co-President Rione asked me to thank you for the way you handled Commander Fensin. It did him a lot of good.”

  Desjani shrugged. “I did my job, sir. I’m pleased I was able to render assistance to Commander Fensin.”

  “Is there any response you want to give Co-President Rione?” Geary pressed, hoping for some thaw between the two women.

  “No, sir. I wouldn’t want you to feel obligated to speak with her on my account.”

  He watched her go, knowing full well that the bad blood between Desjani and Rione was partly his fault but having no idea how to win that particular engagement.

  THERE was one last thing that had to be done before the fleet left Heradao. It had happened in every star system in which the fleet had fought, but that didn’t make the event any easier. Geary had put on a dress uniform and stood stiffly in the shuttle dock before a ceremonial guard of Marines and sailors similarly attired in their most formal uniforms. Black bands with a broad strip of gold trim on either end adorned every left arm.

  Geary cleared his throat and tried to speak evenly. “Every victory comes at a price. Many of our comrades have died in this star system, fighting for their homes and families, for what they believed in, for the friends who fought beside them. Now we must bid farewell to the remains of those who fell in honorable battle. May all honor be given to their memories, and may all comfort be given to those they leave behind. Their spirits have already gone to join their ancestors, and now their bodies will be consigned to one of the beacons the living stars have given to us. Our prayers and our thanks go with them.”

  Captain Desjani stepped forward, her face stern, and pivoted to face the Marines. “Ready.” The Marines brought their weapons up. “Fire.” The weapons, set to the lowest discharge levels, winked bright lights off the overhead. “Fire.” More lights. “Fire.”

  Desjani stepped back.

  Geary turned to face her. “Launch the remains of the honored dead on their final journey.”

  Desjani saluted, pivoted again to give the order and transmit the same command to every ship in the fleet that had suffered losses.

  The Alliance fleet launched its dead, hundreds of capsules holding bodies, a flotilla of the departed aimed for the star Heradao.

  Geary heard Desjani praying softly and similar sounds from others around him. He waited a respectful interval, breathing a few words to his own ancestors on behalf of those who were gone, then called out a last command. “Dismissed.”

  Marines and sailors marched out slowly, along with most of the others who had been present. Geary stood silently, his eyes on a large display screen showing the multitude of body capsules sailing away from the fleet.

  Desjani came to stand beside him. “It’s always the hardest part,” she commented. “Saying good-bye.”

  “Yeah
. I wish we could have taken them home for burials on their home worlds.”

  She shook her head. “It’s not practical. We’d have to wrap garlands of the dead around the outer hulls of our ships. There wouldn’t be anything dignified about that. This way they get the most honorable burial possible, consigned to the embrace of a star.”

  “Burials in space were rare in my time,” Geary said. “But then, we didn’t have so many dead to deal with.”

  “It’s the best possible resting place,” Desjani insisted. She placed one hand on her heart. “Everything that makes us came from the stars. Now these dead are returning to a star, and someday it will cast the elements within them outward just as stars have done since the beginning, and in time those elements will combine to form new stars, new worlds, new lives. ‘From the stars we came, and to the stars we return,’ ” she quoted. “This is a good fate, the last honor we can render those who died alongside us.”

  “You’re right.” Even the most militant agnostic couldn’t argue the literal truth of what Desjani had said, and though Geary found the sheer scale of the time involved to be unnerving, he also felt the comfort of being part of an eternal cycle symbolized by the gold strips on either side of the black mourning band he wore. Light, dark, light. The dark was just an interval.

  “And you must never forget,” Desjani added, “that if not for you, every man and woman in this fleet would either already be dead, or would be in a Syndic labor camp with nothing to look forward to for the rest of their lives except their eventual deaths far from all they loved.”