Lost Fleet 4 - Valiant Read online

  The Marine plan was simple enough, using detachments from all four of the battleships accompanying the Alliance auxiliaries, which were heading straight for the Syndic Casualty Flotilla of which Audacious was a part. Most of the Marines would assault Audacious, using every shuttle available from the battleships and Captain Cresida’s battle cruisers. In addition, each boarding team from an Alliance auxiliary would be accompanied by a single Marine fire team to check for booby traps on the repair ships or some Syndic fanatic determined to die fighting.

  He paused at the situation assessment. “I hadn’t noticed the Syndics evacuating Audacious,” he remarked to Desjani.

  She checked her own display, tapping some recall commands, then nodded. “They pulled out when the other Syndics were bailing out of the repair ships. That’s why we didn’t notice it, but if you do a situation replay, you can see it clearly enough. There’s no change in the readings from Audacious, so they didn’t vent atmosphere or anything like that.”

  “Let’s hope it simplifies things.” He marked the plan approved and sent it back. Even though the Marines had been told they didn’t need positive approval, a clean paper trail on orders usually made people happy.

  Ten minutes later, as Geary watched for the arrival of the pursuit force and felt pressure building in his head from the growing tension, he got another alert, this time a high-priority communication. Geary barely suppressed a groan when he saw the identification tag. Captain Casia of Conqueror, one of the biggest openly pain-in-the-butt senior officers whom he had to deal with right now. But this might be legitimately important. Not likely coming from Casia, but he couldn’t risk blowing it off. He tapped the acknowledge control and a window showing Casia’s frowning face popped into existence. “Captain Geary,” Casia stated heavily, “I’ve been informed that Marines attached to my ship will be employed in an operation to rescue presumed Alliance prisoners being held by the Syndics on the wreck of Audacious.”

  Geary glanced at Conqueror’s position. Ten light-seconds away. Not too annoying a delay in communications, even if the communication itself looked like it would be annoying. “That’s correct, Captain Casia,” Geary stated in formal tones, then waited to see what Casia’s problem was this time.

  “I’ve also been informed that there is no fleet command oversight for the Marines involved,” Casia ground out.

  Geary gave Casia’s image a perplexed look. “That’s incorrect, Captain Casia. I’m exercising command over Colonel Carabali, who is in turn directing the Marines according to my orders.”

  Twenty seconds later, Casia’s image frowned even deeper as his reply showed up. “Perhaps oversight of Marines on fleet missions was much laxer before the war. I’m talking about the routine practice of fleet officers conducting direct supervision of Marine officers and senior enlisted who are engaged in ship-boarding operations.”

  “What?” The command and control systems allowed higher-ranking individuals to see and hear whatever any particular Marine in battle armor was doing, something that Geary thought an occasionally useful but usually dangerously distracting option. Geary muted his comm circuit and pivoted slightly to stare at Desjani. “Captain Desjani, is it true that fleet officers routinely look over the shoulder of Marines engaged in ship-boarding ops?”

  Desjani rolled her eyes in aggravation. “Who brought that up?”

  “Captain Casia.”

  “That figures. Sir,” she added hastily as if suddenly remembering she was discussing the issue with her fleet commander. Desjani sighed, ran one hand through her hair, then spoke in a monotone. “Such oversight for warship boarding has been routine as long as I’ve been in the fleet.”

  “Why?”

  “Because it’s feared that Marines boarding a warship will punch the wrong buttons and wreck or blow up important things, including the ship.”

  “Am I wrong in assuming that the Marines have orders not to punch buttons unless they know what they’re doing?” Geary demanded.

  Desjani shrugged. “Of course they have orders not to punch strange buttons, sir. But they are Marines.”

  That was a point, Geary had to admit. Thousands of years of human technological advancement had yet to produce a single piece of equipment that was Marine-proof, or sailor-proof, for that matter. That was one of the main reasons why chief petty officers in the fleet and sergeants in the Marines had no fear of being rendered obsolete, since one of their primary functions remained to yell, “Don’t Touch Anything Unless I Tell You To,” at the more-junior enlisted whenever necessary. But because the Marines did have sergeants, Geary didn’t see what purpose was served by having fleet officers tag along with the Marines via the command and control system. “What level of officers are we talking about? The ones assigned to this oversight of Marines?”

  “Ships’ commanding officers,” Desjani replied in the same monotone.

  “You’re kidding.”

  “No, sir.”

  “Who’s supposed to be commanding their ships while they’re supervising junior Marine officers?”

  Desjani’s mouth twisted into a bitter smile. “I asked that same question of Admiral Bloch the last time I was assigned to stay on the shoulder of a Marine second lieutenant as he led a platoon aboard a Syndic warship. Admiral Bloch informed me that he had every confidence that an officer of my skills and experience could easily do both things at once.”

  Not for the first time, Geary felt a guilty sense of relief that Admiral Bloch had died before Geary had been required actually to serve as Bloch’s subordinate. “I think I can already tell the answer to this, but do you personally see any good reason for doing that?”

  Another shrug. “It’s possible to find reasons, but there’s plenty of reasons not to do it, too. I wouldn’t ever do it by choice, sir.”

  “That’s what I thought. I wouldn’t, either.” Turning back to front, Geary unmuted his circuit and gave Casia a serious but noncommittal look. “Thank you for bringing this to my attention. I’ll ensure the Marines are aware of the need to consult fleet officers before taking any actions that might impact on the safety or security of the ship they’re boarding.”

  Another twenty seconds or so, and Casia’s frown was just as deep, but now accompanied by a slightly flushed face. “There are good reasons for current policies, Captain Geary. Failure to abide by experience gained in wartime could have deadly results for those prisoners we hope to liberate.”

  That was as pointed a barb as had been shot his way in a while, Geary reflected. It was true in a way, because he did lack the length of wartime experience of the other officers in the fleet. But also untrue, because he hadn’t learned any wrong lessons. If there was one thing he was certain of, it was that senior officers had no business riding on the backs of junior officers trying to do their jobs. He’d had entirely too much experience dealing with that as a junior officer himself. “Thank you for your input, Captain Casia,” Geary stated in a level voice. “It will be given full consideration, and any actions deemed appropriate will be taken.” Maybe peacetime experience wasn’t the same as wartime experience, but it had taught Geary how to say “get off my back” in totally professional and polite language.

  From the look on Casia’s face less than half a minute later, that officer hadn’t had any trouble deciphering the meaning behind Geary’s words. “After the disaster this fleet experienced during our last period in Lakota—”

  Geary used his authority as fleet commander and activated his override. If he listened, he’d get mad, and he didn’t want anger clouding his judgment. Wishing for a moment that Captain Casia had his own “disregard option” button, Geary spoke in a hard voice. “If you want to be relieved of command prior to combat, Captain Casia, you can retransmit your last message. Or you can stop beating a dead horse and get on with your job. If you wish to have a personal meeting after this engagement to discuss the command structure of this fleet and your place in it, I will be happy to oblige. Rest assured that the Marines are being competently supervised and that your concerns have been noted for the record. End of transmission,” he added unnecessarily before breaking contact with Conqueror.

  Captain Desjani was doing a very good imitation of someone totally unaware that her superior officer was unhappy. Around the bridge of Dauntless, the watch-standers were doing the same imitation with varying degrees of success. They couldn’t have heard anything Geary had said within the sound-deadening field that gave privacy to his conversations with other ships, but any junior officer soon learned the essential art of reading a superior’s mood by unspoken clues like body language.

  Geary fumed a moment longer, then took a deep breath and called Colonel Carabali, who eyed him warily. “Colonel, I’m assuming that having fleet commanding officers directly supervising your people going aboard Audacious would be an unwelcome distraction.”

  “That’s a safe assumption, Captain Geary,” the Marine colonel agreed.

  “I’m also assuming that your senior enlisted and junior officers are capable of preventing any Marines from pushing buttons at random or accidentally overloading Audacious’s power core.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “And I’m assuming that if any Marine needs guidance or instructions from fleet personnel on how to deal with anything aboard Audacious they will have both the knowledge and ability to ask for those things.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “In short, Colonel, I am assuming that your Marines have the experience, training, and intelligence to carry out their tasks without direct supervision from senior fleet officers. ”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Good.” Geary felt himself relaxing, while Carabali watched him as if she were trying to spot an ambush. “I’d appreciate it if you were to help me demonstrate the truth of m
y assumptions. If your Marines can take Audacious without blowing up anything or venting the ship’s atmosphere into space, I will be able to provide a solid example of their ability to function effectively without fleet officers breathing down their necks.”

  Colonel Carabali nodded. “Of course, sir. There won’t be any screwups.”

  “Hell, Colonel, there are always screwups in any operation. Let’s just keep them within reason.”

  Carabali finally grinned, then saluted. “Yes, sir. I’ll let my people know of your confidence in them and reemphasize that they should ask for guidance if in doubt.”

  “And avoid pushing strange buttons,” Geary couldn’t help adding.

  “Absolutely, sir. Because we’ll be assaulting a ship that likely holds many Alliance prisoners of war, I’ve had my platoon and squad leaders instruct their Marines to exercise the highest level of fire discipline. They won’t shoot at anyone or anything unless they know it’s enemy.”

  “Good idea.”

  “They’re all volunteers as well,” the colonel added. “Since there’s a chance the Syndics might have rigged the ship’s power core to blow once our assault force is aboard.”

  Geary felt his teeth clench at the thought. “I can’t tell you how much I appreciate their willingness to participate in the operation despite that chance, Colonel. I’ve warned the Syndics not to try anything like that, and warned what will happen to them if they do. Their escape pods can’t outrun our ships.”

  The Marine colonel bared her teeth. “Thank you, sir.”

  “Thank you, Colonel. Let me know if anything significant about the plan changes.” Carabali’s image vanished, and Geary leaned back with a sigh.

  “Another crisis averted?” Rione asked.

  “Dealt with, anyway,” Geary responded. “Have you heard anything I should know about now?”

  She gave him an arch look, knowing he was referring to her spies within the fleet. “Nothing that can’t wait.” Rione hesitated, then stood up and walked close enough to speak softly. “Only a few of my agents have been able to get quick reports to me. They all say that those opposed to you were thrown off completely by your decision to return immediately to Lakota. Your opponents are now apparently waiting to see what happens before preparing their next moves.”

  “Thank you. What do you think? How does it all feel to you?”

  “You want my advice?” Rione asked coldly. “Why not ask your flagship’s captain again?”

  Oh, for the love of my ancestors. “I ask her questions about fleet operations. Is there something wrong with that?”

  “Of course not,” Rione replied in tones that implied the opposite, then answered his first question without missing a beat. “Your enemies in the fleet are quiet and waiting. Until the situation in this star system is resolved, they won’t act for fear that they themselves will be stuck trying to handle a dangerous Syndic trap.”

  Geary nodded, keeping his thoughts to himself. If I fail, they have what they need to push for my replacement as fleet commander. Not that there’s likely to be much of the fleet left to command if I fail. And apparently none of them want to try overcoming the Syndic presence in this star system.

  His eyes went to the display, looking again for what ought to be there by now. Still no Syndic pursuit force arriving via the jump point for Ixion. Geary’s fingers drummed restlessly on one arm of his command seat. Why hadn’t the pursuit shown up yet? They’d been in this star system for well over two hours now. Every additional minute was a gift, but he distrusted gifts that came for reasons he didn’t understand. While he had told Rione of his hope for three hours’ grace time and had been praying for that much, he’d actually assumed it would be less than two hours before the leading elements of the Syndic pursuit appeared. Even allowing for time needed to reorganize the Syndic flotillas, then to turn around at Ixion once they discovered the Alliance fleet had jumped back here, a decent pursuit should already have shown up in Lakota again.

  Another high-priority message, this one from Ocrea, thirty light-seconds distant, which would make for a slow but not intolerable conversation. Geary wondered why the heavy cruiser would be calling him, then remembered that he’d asked that ship to pick up and interrogate some Syndics. “Geary here. Did any of the Syndics talk?”

  Ocrea’s captain nodded. “One did. Most of them just parroted the usual Syndic nonsense about it being a privilege to be a citizen of the Syndicate Worlds. But we got one senior enlisted who’s apparently decided that this fleet can’t be destroyed and that anyone trying is going against the will of the living stars. So he’s spilling his guts about whatever he knows, thinking that’s the only way to atone for helping to attack us.” He paused for Geary’s reaction.

  “I like that attitude,” Geary noted.

  One minute later, Ocrea’s captain nodded. “Me, too, sir. This Syndic sailor doesn’t know much, but he did know that we took out the Syndic flagship during our fight before the jump for Ixion. The senior Syndic CEO didn’t make it off alive, and that left two CEOs of lower-but-equal rank arguing over who would get to command the force pursuing us to Ixion. Our source can’t remember exactly how long, but he said it was at least four hours. Maybe even more than five, while the Syndic flotilla here hung around doing nothing.” The other officer paused for Geary’s reply.

  “At least four hours?” Geary questioned. He’d targeted the center of the Syndic formation hoping for that, but hadn’t known if he’d succeeded. “That sailor is certain?”

  “Yes, sir. Unfortunately, he can’t tell us anything more specific than ‘big’ about the size of the force that pursued us to Ixion. The only other thing he seems to know that’s useful is that some of the badly damaged Syndic ships left behind here were required to transfer some crew members to the ships chasing after us. This guy thought they were to replace battle casualties, but said a lot of ships were under-crewed these days in terms of skilled personnel. The Syndics seem to have lost a larger than usual number of better-trained people lately, more than their training pipeline can replace for a while.” This time Ocrea’s captain smiled in a very satisfied way.

  “That’s great work,” Geary stated with total sincerity. “Do you think any of your prisoners are worth hanging on to for transfer to a ship with more sophisticated interrogation facilities?”

  “I really doubt it, sir. Even the one who gave away everything he could doesn’t really know anything beyond what I told you. In my opinion, they’re not worth keeping.” The commanding officer of Ocrea seemed struck by an unexpected thought. “I guess we could just put them back in their escape pods and relaunch them. We’ve done that with others lately, haven’t we?”

  Geary nodded, trying not to show his relief. Not too long ago Ocrea’s captain, like every other officer in the fleet, might simply have spaced the Syndic prisoners if dealing with them seemed too difficult. That he had on his own suggested a humane way of getting them off the fleet’s hands was a very good sign that the concept of honor was returning to its old meaning. “That sounds like an excellent plan.”

  The other officer smiled. “Any messages from the living stars that we should give this guy to spread around?”

  Geary almost jumped on that opportunity, then paused. It felt wrong in some indefinable way, as if someone was giving him a warning he couldn’t hear or see but only sense. “That might not be such a good idea. His own ideas he can spread, but I wouldn’t want to offend the living stars by presuming to speak for them.”

  The smile on the face of Ocrea’s captain disappeared. “I wasn’t suggesting sacrilege, sir.”

  “I know that. But what we think is okay might not be in their eyes. Right? Better safe than sorry.”

  “True.” Ocrea’s commanding officer nodded. “We seem to be in their favor right now, and I wouldn’t want that to change. Thank you, sir. We’ll relaunch the Syndic escape pods within the next ten minutes or so.”

  “Sounds good. Thanks again for outstanding work.”

  As the window showing Ocrea’s captain vanished, Geary turned to speak to both Desjani and Rione, filling them in on the news before adding his interpretation. “The surviving Syndic CEOs each wanted to be the one who could claim credit for destroying this fleet at Ixion, so they spent hours arguing over who would be in charge. Co-President Rione, don’t the Syndics have some sort of seniority system like our date of rank?”