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  Desjani nodded. “The primary command, repair, supply, and docking facility for the Alliance fleet in that entire sector of space.”

  “That seems a far-more-critical target than some of those that were hit. Does anyone know why they didn’t strike Varandal? ”

  Once again Desjani answered. “Our histories all say that it was assumed Varandal, Ulani, and other high-value star systems were intended for a follow-up wave of attacks that didn’t happen because of Syndic losses suffered in the first wave. Assumed,” Desjani emphasized. “It’s obvious they made that assumption because everyone on the Alliance side agreed the Syndics shouldn’t have had any expectation that their first wave of surprise attacks to start this war could have inflicted enough damage on the Alliance to be decisive. The Syndics didn’t have enough forces on hand, as Captain Geary says, to hit everything they needed to hit all at once.”

  “What’s your point?” Rione demanded.

  Desjani gave her a cold look in return, but her voice stayed professionally calm. “Perhaps the Syndics expected to have more forces than we knew of. Suppose the Syndics had reached an agreement and expected to have help? Suppose they expected an ally, a very powerful ally, to hit places like Varandal while they hit Diomede?”

  This time the silence was longer. Rione’s face hardened again, but now her feelings weren’t directed at Desjani. “The aliens double-crossed the Syndics.”

  “By promising to help attack the Alliance.”

  “And then didn’t show up, leaving the Syndics to fight alone. They suckered the Syndic leaders, who thought themselves the masters of cunning behavior, into an unwinnable war with the Alliance. But the Syndic leaders couldn’t admit they’d been fooled on such a huge issue, and they’d enraged the Alliance, and so couldn’t get out of the war they’d started.”

  Cresida was nodding now. “The aliens don’t want either side winning. That’s why they intervened at Lakota. Captain Geary was doing too well, inflicting enough losses to, perhaps, eventually decisively tip the balance against the Syndics, and getting closer and closer to getting the Syndic hypernet key back to Alliance space. The aliens want humanity at war, and they want us to remain totally absorbed in this war. But is that purely defensive? Or are they waiting to see how much we can weaken ourselves before they move in?”

  “We think that they can wipe us out at any time using the hypernet gates,” Geary noted.

  “But they haven’t yet,” Cresida argued. “If they’re watching us as the events here at Lakota seem to prove, they must know from the collapse of the Syndic hypernet gate at Sancere that we’re at least learning about the destructive potential of the gates. If they want to use the gates to wipe us out, why haven’t they triggered them already?”

  “Feathers or lead?” Duellos asked, studying his fingernails.

  Frustrating as it was, Geary had to admit Duellos had a point. “We can speculate endlessly and not reach conclusions because we don’t know anything about what we’re dealing with.”

  “We know they’ve figured out how to trick us,” Desjani insisted. “Sir, look at the pattern. They intervene in hidden ways, and they know how to get us to do things that either hurt or have the potential to hurt ourselves.”

  “Good point,” Duellos conceded. “Which means they very likely adopt such tactics among themselves. They seem to favor causing an enemy to make mistakes that result in self-inflicted injury.”

  Rione nodded. “By figuring out what that enemy wants, then offering it to them. They must have formidable political skills.”

  “And the Syndics tried to mess with them,” Geary noted angrily. “They poked a hornet’s nest with a stick, and all of humanity got stung.”

  “Why haven’t the Syndics come clean?” Cresida wondered. “They don’t have any hope of winning this war and haven’t for a long time. Why not say they were tricked by the aliens, claim the aliens told them we were going to attack, whatever. Get us on their side against whatever these things are.”

  Rione shook her head. “The Syndicate Worlds’ leaders can’t afford to admit they made that kind of mistake. Heads would roll, possibly in a very literal way. Even though the predecessors of the current Syndic leaders actually made the errors, the current leaders derive their legitimacy by claiming to be the chosen successors of past leaders. And all Syndic leaders are supposedly chosen for their competence and abilities. Admit to horrible errors by one generation of leaders and it calls into question the legitimacy of their chosen successors and the entire system. It is much easier and safer for them to continue on a ruinous course of action than it would be to admit to serious errors and try to change the situation.”

  “They’re that stupid?” Cresida asked.

  “No. It’s not stupid. If they admit to mistakes made by leaders of the Syndicate Worlds, mistakes so serious they have trapped the Syndicate Worlds in an apparently endless war, then it is certain they will lose power, and if they lose power, they will at worst die either quickly or slowly, and at best lose every bit of their status and wealth. But as long as they continue the current policies, they can hope something will change. It’s not about what’s best for the Syndicate Worlds or the Alliance or humanity as a whole. It’s about what’s best for them as individuals. They’ll fight to the last warship and ground soldier, because that’s someone else paying the price for their mistakes and putting off the day when they’ll personally be called to account.”

  Geary noticed the other officers were trying not to stare at Rione. He knew what was bothering them. Not just the rationale the Syndic leaders were probably using, but also that Rione understood it and could explain it, which meant she could think the same way.

  Clearly seeing the same thing, Rione glared around at the others. “I forgot. You’re all so noble and honorable. No senior military officer would ever allow people to die rather than admit a mistake, or cling to a foolish course of action in order to maintain their position.”

  This time a lot of faces reddened. Geary spoke before anyone else could. “Point taken. But no one here engages in that kind of thing. And, yes, I include Co-President Rione in that. She came along on this mission, risking her own life along with the sailors of this fleet. Now, let’s redirect our anger at our enemies, not each other.”

  “Which enemies?” Duellos wondered. “We’ve spent all of our lives knowing that ‘enemy’ meant the Syndics. They were the ones attacking us, bombarding our worlds, killing our friends and family members. And all that time we had another enemy, one none of us knew about.”

  “Is that true, though? Do our leaders know about them?” Desjani asked.

  Every eye turned again to Rione, who flushed slightly but gazed back defiantly. “I don’t. As far as I know, no senator knows of the aliens.”

  “What about the Governing Council?” Duellos questioned.

  “I don’t know.” Rione looked at the others and obviously saw doubt there. “I don’t have any reason to lie,” she snapped. “I know there are extremely sensitive matters of which only members of the Governing Council are apprised. Supposedly some of those matters are passed verbally to new members and never written down, but I don’t know that’s true. Only the members of the Governing Council know, and they don’t discuss their secrets.”

  Geary nodded. “I can easily believe that. What would be your guess, though, Madam Senator?” He used the title deliberately, wanting to emphasize for the others the political rank that Rione held. “If you had to make a guess, is there anything you know or have heard about the Governing Council that would lead you to think they might know?”

  She frowned, bending her head in thought. “Maybe. It would depend upon how you interpreted things.”

  “Things?”

  Rione’s frown deepened. “Questions that you’re told to stop asking for Alliance security reasons, private statements regarding plans or budgets, that sort of thing. But there are plenty of other explanations for any of that. Listen, I’m as suspicious as any politician. I pa
rse everything I hear for possible interpretations. If the Governing Council has any clue as to the existence of these aliens, they’ve done a very good job of keeping it quiet. I certainly never suspected it until Captain Geary showed me what he’d figured out.”

  “But then we’d all stopped asking that question,” Cresida observed. “Hadn’t we? No nonhuman intelligent species had ever been discovered or contacted us, that we knew of, and the war had us all focused on other matters. Captain Geary had a fresh perspective.”

  “More like a fresh-frozen perspective,” Geary replied, and everyone smiled at the reference to his long period in survival sleep. He hadn’t thought that he’d ever be able to joke about that. “Here’s the question: Do we keep them secret? Or do we start telling lots of other people?”

  This time the silence stretched, then Rione spoke in a world-weary voice. “We fear that humanity will use the power in the hypernet gates to wipe itself out because of the hatreds generated by this war. If humanity learned that the war had been caused by a trick from another intelligent species, and that the same species had fooled us into planting the means for humanity’s extinction throughout the star systems we control, what would the mass of people do? What would they demand?”

  “Revenge,” Tulev answered.

  “Yes. War on an even greater scale, against an enemy of unknown strength, unknown size, and with unquestionably superior technology.”

  Cresida clenched her fists. “I don’t particularly care how many of those things died. They’ve earned it. But the thought of how many more humans would perish …”

  “I think my question has been answered,” Geary stated heavily. “We have to keep the secret, too, yet also figure out how to counter these aliens without starting an even bigger war.”

  Duellos pursed his lips as he frowned in thought, the fingers of one hand drumming silently on the table near him. “One enemy at a time. That’s what I’d recommend. We have to deal with the Syndics before we can have a hope of dealing with the aliens.”

  “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.