ONE

THE captain of the Syndicate Worlds merchant ship approaching the jump point out of Baldur Star System might have been having a good day—right up until the point that several squadrons of Alliance fleet destroyers appeared coming out of that jump point. He might have had a few minutes to wonder if he could somehow run past the Alliance destroyers and jump out of the system to safety, before many more destroyers appeared and before squadrons of light cruisers materialized behind the destroyers. He and his crew had definitely run for the merchant ship's one escape pod by the time divisions of heavy cruisers, battle cruisers, and battleships emerged from the jump point.

Syndicate Worlds authorities on the one habitable world orbiting Baldur would see the annihilation of the merchant ship and hear its crew's calls for rescue in about six hours, about the same time the light from the jump point reached them and they saw that the Alliance fleet had appeared in their backwater star system.

They wouldn't be having a good day, either.

"RAPIER and Bulawa report destruction of the Syndic merchant ship. One escape pod noted leaving the merchant ship. Singhauta reports destruction of the automated traffic management buoy monitoring the jump point." The watch-stander's voice rang calmly and clearly across the bridge of the Alliance battle cruiser Dauntless. "No minefields detected or suspicious anomalies sighted."

Captain John "Black Jack" Geary nodded to acknowledge the words, his attention focused on the display floating before his command seat. He could have picked out from the display every piece of information the watch-stander had just provided, but experience had proven that humans remained the best filters for highlighting important data. If some other human handled that, Geary could concentrate on the bigger picture. "Which one of our ships is in the best position to pick up the escape pod from the merchant?"

"Wait, sir. Battleaxe, sir."

Geary tapped the proper communications control without having to search for it, relieved that the unfamiliar equipment of this future was finally becoming second nature to him. "Battleaxe, this is Captain Geary. Request you pick up the Syndic escape pod. I want to interrogate that merchant crew."

The reply took a minute, naturally, since the destroyer Battleaxe was about twenty light-seconds distant from Dauntless. It took her twenty seconds to receive the transmission and another twenty seconds for the answer to make the return journey. "Yes, sir. Who should we deliver them to?"

"Dauntless," Geary advised.

He was still awaiting Battleaxe's acknowledgment when a cool voice spoke from behind him. "What do you hope to learn from the crew of a merchant ship, Captain Geary? The Syndic leadership wouldn't have entrusted them with any classified information."

Geary glanced back, seeing that Victoria Rione, copresident of the Callas Republic and a senator of the Alliance, was giving him a curious look. "That ship was about to jump out of the system. That means they likely jumped into the system within the last few weeks instead of being a purely in-system trader. They'll have news from other Syndic star systems. I want to know what they've been told about this fleet and about the war in general. I also want to see if we can get them to cough up any rumors they've heard in their travels."

"You think that information will be valuable?" Rione pressed.

"I have no idea, but if I don't get it, I won't know, will I?"

She nodded, giving little clue to her opinion. Not that Geary found that unusual. He and Rione had been lovers for a few weeks, in the physical sense of the word, but she had been distant since just before they had left Ilion Star System, and he had yet to learn why. "Then perhaps you should have the prisoners delivered to Vengeance," Rione added. "That battleship has the best interrogation facilities in the fleet, or so I've heard."

Captain Tanya Desjani, sitting to one side of Geary, jerked her head around and spoke coldly. "Dauntless has excellent interrogation facilities and can ensure Captain Geary receives every measure of support he requests." Desjani wasn't about to let anyone imply that any other ship in the fleet was in any way superior to her ship.

Rione gazed back impassively at Dauntless's commanding officer for a moment, then inclined her head slightly. "I did not mean to imply that Dauntless could not carry out the mission effectively."

"Thank you," Desjani replied, her voice no warmer.

Geary tried not to frown. Desjani and Rione had apparently been just one step shy of going for each other's throats ever since Ilion, and he hadn't been able to find out the cause of that, either. Bad enough he had to worry about the Syndic fleet without also trying to figure out why there was bad blood between two of the best advisers he had. He refocused on the display, where the fleet's sensors were busy adding newly detected information, then muttered a curse.

"What's the matter, sir?" Desjani asked, instantly alert as her own eyes scanned her display. "Oh. Damn."

"Yeah," Geary agreed. He knew Rione was listening and wondering. "There's another Syndic merchant ship almost at the jump point on the other side of the system. It'll have time to see us before it jumps out and will carry that news to the Syndic authorities elsewhere."

"It's a good thing we don't intend to linger here," Desjani added. "There's nothing in Baldur that we need. It's just another second-rate star system."

Geary nodded, his thoughts going back. Back a century, to before the war, to before he'd fought a desperate battle against the first Syndic surprise attack, before he'd barely escaped in a damaged survival pod to drift for a hundred years in survival sleep, before he'd found himself suddenly in command of a fleet whose survival depended on him. Back when he was just John Geary, a typical fleet officer, not the mythical hero Black Jack Geary, who these descendants of the people he'd known had been taught to believe could do anything. "People used to go to Baldur before the war," he remarked in an almost absentminded way. "Tourists, even from the Alliance."

Copyright © 2008 by John G. Hemry.