The Lost Fleet: Beyond the Frontier: Guardian

“Is that why the fins on those ships are so big?” Lieutenant Yuon asked. “They’ve got a lot more height than should be required for sensors and shield generators.”

Desjani raised an eyebrow toward Castries. “You read space fantasy, Lieutenant?”

“Not . . . much . . . lately, Captain. I mean, yes, Captain.”

“Everyone needs some romance,” Geary said, while Lieutenant Castries acted as if she were suddenly absorbed in analyzing sensor readings.

“Oh, please.” Desjani rolled her eyes. “One of those stories where the beautiful, brainy princess wakes the sleeping Black Jack with a kiss so that together they can overthrow the evil star demon and live happily ever after?”

Geary realized his mouth was hanging open and shut it hastily. “Tell me that you’re kidding.”

“Nope. Lieutenant Castries?”

“Those are usually pretty good,” the hapless Lieutenant admitted. “They don’t get you right, Admiral, of course.”

“Would you like to see some of the illustrations for those?” Desjani asked.

“No, I would not. If I may get back to the situation we’re facing, you’re telling me these outer-star ships are extensively ornamented, and not for any useful purpose.”

Lieutenant Iger, who had still been listening but wisely refraining from commenting up until now, nodded. “It might not impact their fighting capabilities, Admiral, but it does indicate they have the luxury of investing resources into nonfunctional ornamentation.”

Rione shook her head. “I have seen a great deal of nonfunctional ornamentation in my time, and I can say with certainty that not all of it was purchased because the person doing the buying could afford it. We may be dealing with status, appearance, and other issues that have little to do with simple monetary calculations.”

Lieutenant Castries spoke up again, sounding excited. “Captain, I asked our systems to evaluate the fins on those ships, adding in variables for nonfunctionality. When asked to do that, our systems have evaluated a high probability that the fins were designed for form rather than strength.”

“Ostentation?” Senator Suva asked. “Display? Are we certain these are warships?”

“We have identified some weapons,” Lieutenant Iger said. “Not too many, yet, but the ships are definitely armed.”

Charban was shaking his head, mouth pursed. “Speaking as an outside observer, I have seen a lot of ships. I have never seen any that look like that which weren’t warships.”

“Common design ancestry,” Senator Sakai said. “That is what our systems analyzed, is it not? These ships came from the same sources as the one we are aboard. We can reasonably estimate function from appearance.”

“They’ve finally seen us,” Lieutenant Yuon reported. “They’re altering vectors.”

Geary watched his display as the unknown warships turned inward toward Sol and began accelerating. “They’re coming our way but not directly at us.”

“Look at their vector. They first want to block our direct path back to the hypernet gate,” Desjani said. “Wait and see. Whoever they are, they are moving to block our access to the hypernet gate. That is not a friendly act.”

“Maybe they—” Suva stopped speaking, then shook her head. “It does look as if they’re trying to keep us from leaving before warning us off, if that’s what they intend.”

“They’re trying to trap us?” Costa demanded.

Geary looked to Rione and Charban. “Please tell the Dancers we would like them to stay close to us. If they ask about the other warships, tell them we’re trying to figure out who they are and what they want.”

“You make telling them that sound so simple,” Rione commented sarcastically. “We will try our best.”

“Captain?” the communications watch-stander called. “We have a message coming in from the unidentified warships. It uses an old format that’s standard for comms in Sol Star System and is addressed to our, uh, ‘senior superior command supervising authority and controller.’”

“Redundant much?” Desjani growled. “Forward it to the Admiral.”

“Let everyone on the bridge see it,” Geary ordered. “Envoys Rione and Charban, please wait on that message to the Dancers until we see what these other ships tell us.”

An image appeared before him of a man well past middle age seated on a bridge not too different from that of Dauntless. No surprise there. The most efficient arrangement of controls and watch stations had been worked out centuries ago. Wherever anyone went in human space, they would find the configuration of a ship’s bridge to be roughly similar.