Boundless Page 8

  “It’s not?” Geary weighed whether to ask the next question, deciding he needed to know the answer. “What’s stranger?”

  Carabali made a face. “Oh, there’s one cult that believes you weren’t sent back from the dead, but rather escaped. They think the only right thing to do is send you back as soon as possible so the living stars won’t be offended.”

  Geary sat back, wondering why he felt an urge to laugh. “You know, we’ve had a lot of trouble understanding aliens like the enigmas, and even friendly enemies like the Dancers. But I don’t envy any aliens trying to make sense of humans. I don’t know how I could explain the ways some people think.”

  “You know the old saying about the difference between friends and family,” Carabali said. “You get to choose your friends. Whereas we’re forced to claim kinship with every Homo sapiens in the galaxy.”

  Geary forgot what he was going to say next as a massive structure came into view, extending a long ways to either side and far enough back that he couldn’t be sure where it ended. Multiple stories soared into the air, and he knew important facilities would be buried in more stories extending underground. “That’s Fleet Headquarters?”

  “That’s Fleet Headquarters.”

  “It’s . . . huge.” Geary tried judging the size of the building again. “How many people are assigned to Fleet Headquarters?”

  “I doubt that anyone could tell you,” Carabali said. “There are people assigned to different offices and commands and bureaus. You know how headquarters staffs are. Black holes that just keep sucking in more and more resources as staffs keep expanding in an endless game of mine-is-bigger-than-yours by senior officers. Staffs for frontline commanders shrank during the war, but I think Fleet Headquarters expanded every year of it.”

  “Great.” Coming into view were scores of Marines in dress uniforms but carrying weapons. They formed two lines from the road leading into the headquarters complex. “That’s a lot of Marines. Is it a full company?”

  “A reinforced company,” Carabali said. “It’s officially just an honor guard, but I managed to convince the necessary people that a proper Marine honor guard needed to be heavily armed.” She gestured around them. “There are a lot of buildings looking down on this area. A lot of potential firing positions. I wanted the Marines to be in full battle armor but was told that would look too much as if you were coming to take over. To be honest, I wanted you in battle armor as well to help protect you. If anyone is going to make another try at you soon, it’ll be here.”

  Beyond the Marines, Geary could see groups of people scattered along the street and sidewalks. Their clothing all had a hard-to-explain similarity that somehow broadcast security agent. Maybe it was the dark glasses they all wore, or the way they were all loitering and at the same time paying a great deal of attention to their surroundings. Parked here and there were apparently civilian vehicles that were carefully positioned to cover the entire street and the visible airspace over it. Higher up, a half-dozen police air cruisers were doing slow figure eights, and even higher beyond them were the unmistakable shapes of aerospace fighters hovering on overwatch.

  It all should’ve been a reassuring sight, except for the disturbing fact that a lot of people were clearly certain that this level of security was needed to protect him. It wasn’t the sort of spectacle he had ever imagined at Unity, or anywhere else in the Alliance.

  Carabali was one of the few people Geary felt comfortable sharing his thoughts with. “One of the reasons I haven’t visited many places in the Alliance,” he said in a low voice, “is because I was afraid I’d see more signs of how things had changed in the last century. As long as I didn’t actually go back to anywhere, I could pretend in the back of my mind that nothing important had changed.”

  “A lot of people tried to hold on to who we were,” Carabali said. “Admiral, if I may be frank, please don’t repeat your disappointment where others can hear. Too many would see it as criticism of who we’ve become.”

  “I didn’t mean it to sound like disappointment in you or anyone else alive now,” Geary said, already unhappy he’d spoken so candidly. “But I understand how it could be seen that way. Really, it’s just . . . how much time I lost. Even if today were some utopian vision, I’d still be comparing it to the places I knew a century ago and missing what used to be.”

  “I see,” Carabali said, mollified. “I can understand that. You know how it is for the military. We go away for years, and when we come back to our homes things have always changed. You’ve had to live with a much more extreme version of that.” She gazed around carefully as the limo finally came to a halt. “Are you ready, Admiral?”

  “Sure.” He looked at all of the security again, wondering if anyone would actually try anything. But there had been that drone yesterday, so somebody already had.

  Carabali opened the door and went out first, positioning herself to shield Geary as he got out. The waiting Marines had extended their lines slightly to meet the side of the limo, so unbroken ranks extended all of the way from the vehicle to the headquarters entry door.

  As Geary straightened, his eyes by habit went over the nearest Marines, noting not just that their dress uniforms were immaculate but also that the hand weapons they were presenting in his honor were either charged if energy weapons or showing fully loaded magazines if solid-shot weapons.

  He began walking along the roughly three-meter-wide aisle between the ranks of Marines, General Carabali staying by his side.

  By the time he reached the halfway point to the door, he was feeling foolish that all of this security had been laid on for nothing.

  There was no sound of a shot. He felt the wind of a solid round passing so close above his forehead from above and behind that it clipped a couple of stray hairs, followed by the whack of the bullet hitting the pavement ahead of him.

  General Carabali staggered as another shot aimed at Geary hit her.

  Men and women were shouting, the neat ranks of the Marines dissolving as they rushed to protect him and engage whoever was shooting.

  This was nothing like an engagement between ships in space. In the next instant, Geary felt a line of fire clip one shoulder as a particle burst lanced across his skin, leaving a black streak in its wake. More than one person must be shooting at him. But where had that shot come from? He needed to know where it came from to know which way to dodge. Geary turned, searching, feeling as if the world had sped up around him and he was moving far too slowly.

  FOUR

  “GET down, you fool!” Instead of a bullet or energy burst, a body struck Geary, knocking him to the ground. He hit the pavement hard, followed by the weight of someone dropping on top of him, slamming into his back and forcing his body and head down onto the hard surface again.

  He started to struggle, then caught sight of one arm of whoever had a firm position on his back. They were a Marine, and they were lying on him to physically shield him.

  Another energy bolt scored the pavement about a meter from his face, followed by the rapid rattle of a short slug weapon burst shattering pieces of pavement just off to his left.

  His view, on the pavement with someone heavy lying on him, was very restricted, but he saw more Marines appear close by, crouching or kneeling, using their own bodies to block any more shots from getting through to him.

  He saw one Marine, bearing a long weapon Geary recognized as a sniper rifle, aiming carefully and firing. None of the other Marines around were shooting, though all had their weapons up and were searching for targets. He’d have to commend them for their excellent weapons discipline, Geary told himself, aware of how incongruous his thoughts were at this instant. In the distance, he heard more bangs, some cries of distress or pain, and the roar of police air cruisers zooming close to form a tight ring above the Marines around Geary.

  A louder roar, and sudden shadow, told of one of the aerospace fighters droppin
g down to sit above the police cruisers. Twisting his head, Geary could make out the manta shape of the fighter slowly rotating as its sensors scanned the nearby buildings for any more shooters.

  “Get him inside!” a woman shouted. Not Carabali. How badly had the general been hurt?

  The weight on his back lifted, arms grabbed his arms, and Geary found himself being half carried and half running to a waiting door at headquarters, where more Marines crouched with their weapons aiming outward.

  He felt helpless. And stupid. And, if he was honest, scared. This wasn’t the sort of battle he knew how to fight. He’d used the command and control circuits to have virtual views from Marines engaging in combat, but that hadn’t been the same. Not even close.

  His escort finally came to a halt well inside the door, still holding on to his arms. “Were you hit, sir?” a Marine asked him, medical corpsman insignia on his collar.

  “Just my shoulder,” Geary said.

  “Are you sure?” The corpsman went over him carefully, looking for other injuries, before telling the other Marines they could let go of Geary’s arms. “Sometimes, in a fight, people don’t notice they got hit, sir.”

  “No problem,” Geary said as the corpsman carefully treated the shallow slash on his shoulder. “You’re doing your job. Have I mentioned how much I like having Marines around when things get rough?” he added, getting grins from the nearest ones.

  A major stepped forward, saluting. “The area has been secured, Admiral. Two known shooters dead. Local security and police are pursuing some other suspects.”

  A major. There should be someone else here. “Where’s General Carabali?”

  “Being loaded into an ambulance, Admiral. She took a round in the upper body that could’ve killed her but she got lucky. Now that she’s in an emergency med pod the general should be out of danger.”

  “I want updates on her status,” Geary said, straightening his uniform and trying to calm his pounding heart. “Your Marines did excellent work, Major.”

  “Thank you, Admiral. Captain Holmes wishes to speak with you.”

  “Captain Holmes?”

  A Marine captain with a badly mussed-up dress uniform stepped forward and saluted. “I wish to apologize for using intemperate and inappropriate language toward the admiral.”

  Geary returned the salute, trying to remember any inappropriate language. “Are you the one who called me a fool?”

  “Yes, sir,” Holmes said, his expression impassive.

  “And knocked me down and covered me with your own body to protect me?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Geary extended his hand. “Thank you. Your actions were in the highest traditions of your service.”

  Holmes glanced doubtfully at the hand, then took it.

  “As for your words,” Geary said, seeing a trace of alarm enter Holmes’s eyes, “I’ve never known any admiral who didn’t need to be called a fool at least once. And I’ve never met any admiral who didn’t need people around willing to call them a fool when they deserved it. So, no worries on that count, Captain. But be careful about making a habit of calling your superiors fools.”

  Holmes’s face split into a grin. “Thank you, sir. I won’t make a habit of it, sir.”

  As the Marines reformed and headquarters security staff ran about in belated reaction to the attacks on him, Geary stood, feeling awkward and useless. He couldn’t just walk off when he had no idea how headquarters was laid out.

  A fleet captain hastened up, his eyes searching Geary as to assure himself that all was well. He saluted. “Good morning, Admiral. I’m Captain Romano. I’ve been assigned as your escort inside headquarters.”

  “Good morning, Captain.” What else to say? How many people were listening and watching? This was one of those moments when he had to be Black Jack, projecting calm and confidence no matter how he really felt. “I’ve had better mornings, though.”

  “Uh . . . yes, sir.” Captain Romano hesitated. “Are you prepared to go through with the scheduled meeting?”

  “I’ve gotten a clean bill of health from a corpsman,” Geary said, wishing he could sit down somewhere. He noticed the frantic security activity diminishing, glad that the mess was winding down.

  The Marine major was back. “Admiral, I have a squad standing by to accompany you through headquarters.”

  He thought about the symbolism of that, and didn’t like it. “That’s all right, Major. Captain Romano, am I right in assuming there shouldn’t be any danger inside this building?”

  “It’s a very large building, Admiral,” Romano said. “But, no, there shouldn’t be any danger. Everything and everyone going in and out is screened.”

  “I know I’m in no danger from the fleet or anyone working with it,” Geary said. Had he managed to sound sincere enough? Because he knew how rattled he still was inside. But he couldn’t let that show, because it might create the impression he didn’t trust Alliance sailors or officers or civilians employed by the fleet. And there was no telling how many people were at this moment listening to every word he said. “Major, I’ll be back here when my meetings are complete. Please commend all of your Marines on my behalf, and let them stand down when the situation permits.” His experience might be poorly suited to being shot at by assassins, but it did give him the right words to say without having to think too much about them.

  “Yes, sir,” the major said, saluting again.

  Geary noticed an odd sort of bubble around him. As the major went back to her Marines, only Captain Romano was close by. Everyone else was keeping their distance. “Why were you selected for the honor of being my escort?” Geary asked.

  The question brought a small twist of Romano’s lips that barely formed a smile. “I volunteered, Admiral. I don’t know if Admiral Timbale ever mentioned me to you, but we’ve been close friends since serving together on a cruiser as junior officers. He’s filled me in on what’s happened at Varandal.”

  “Admiral Timbale is a fine officer,” Geary said, trying to get some measure of Romano. “What’s waiting for me in here, Captain?”

  Romano hesitated, looking into the building. “Smiling faces, Admiral.”

  “I see.” Everyone knew that expression. Don’t trust smiling faces. It hadn’t changed in a century. “Does headquarters know about my orders from the Senate?”

  “I don’t know if they officially know. But we’ve heard.” Romano gave Geary a look from the corners of his eyes. “And they’re trying to see what they can slip past those orders. I’m not supposed to know there’s a shuttle on the way to your flagship with a new commanding officer aboard.”

  He should’ve expected that. “They want to relieve Captain Tanya Desjani? On what grounds?”

  “Routine rotation of a commanding officer.” Romano nodded toward the inner portions of the building. “Desjani’s new assignment is to be at Fleet Headquarters.”

  “That’s an interesting way of taking a hostage for my good behavior,” Geary said. “But the new commanding officer is going to be disappointed. The Senate gave me authority over all personnel currently assigned to me.”

  “Headquarters knows that. They wanted to try to relieve her before she got word of your orders. Desjani already knows?”

  Geary nodded. “She already knows. So does the commanding officer of Mistral. All right, Captain. Let’s get this over with.”

  Romano hesitated. “Are you certain that you don’t want to sit down for a while? It looked pretty wild out there.”

  “It wasn’t anything I’d look forward to doing again.” Geary leaned closer to Romano. “Captain, this is one of the times I don’t get the luxury of being human. I have to be who these sailors need to see.”

  “I understand, sir.” Romano smiled. “If you’ll accompany me, then.”

  He led Geary toward the security stations controlling access to t
he inside of headquarters. Studying the many security personnel and the fortified security stations, Geary thought it seemed adequate to stand off an assault by at least a few hundred Syndicate Worlds special forces Vipers. But nothing like that kind of threat should have posed a danger on Unity. “This is quite a setup,” he said to Romano as the captain led him through one of the security stations.

  Romano cast an impassive glance around them. “No one wanted to be accused of failing to provide enough security for headquarters, so the security force and facilities just kept getting bigger and heavier as they kept worrying about bigger and bigger threats.”

  “It wouldn’t have done much good if the Syndics had gotten to Unity,” Geary said. “They just would’ve dropped rocks from orbit until this place was a crater.”

  “But we would’ve looked really secure right up until then,” Romano said.

  Geary decided he liked Captain Romano.

  As they cleared the internal security barriers and entered headquarters, Geary was astounded to see the hallways and break rooms filled with personnel standing around or sitting, apparently doing nothing except talking about the recent excitement outside. The lack of activity didn’t look like a reaction to the assault against him. Not that he wanted a fuss made of it, but it still felt odd. No one seemed nervous or worried, even those discussing the shooting, instead having the bearing of men and women who’d already spent time bored this early in the day. “What’s going on? I know the fleet jokes about headquarters not actually doing any work, but . . .”

  “You didn’t hear?” Romano pointed down the hall. “It’s been like this for a few days. No one can work. Everyone has been locked out of their systems and in most cases their work areas while special investigative teams go through everything looking for hidden files or information about government and fleet activities that weren’t supposed to exist. They’ll also root out malware and all of the other junk that gets uploaded, of course, but I understand mainly they’re looking for anything pertaining to very highly classified programs.”