The Lost Fleet: Beyond the Frontier: Guardian

“Shocking,” Geary agreed dryly, thinking of the problems he had been having with fleet headquarters. As much as he looked forward to getting this fleet home, he also dreaded having to deal with fleet headquarters again. “As fleet commander, I hereby officially authorize a field test of modified equipment required in light of unique circumstances. I can do that, can’t I?”

“I think so, but you don’t have to attract their wrath,” Lagemann protested. “I’m retiring the day we get home, so I have no problem having my name attached to the sensors.”

“I think Sergeant Lamarr has her name attached to the sensors.”

“That’s true. Rightly so. In any event, the good ship Invincible,” Lagemann said, patting the nearest bulkhead affectionately, “is ready for any attempt to prevent her from reaching Alliance territory. You’ll keep warships away, and if the Syndics do the only thing that might work and come aboard by stealth, we’ll handle them.”

“Good job. Very good job.” He hadn’t considered the possibility of Invincible being boarded, hadn’t had time or the leisure to think about such a threat, but that was why a commander needed good subordinates. And the effort of putting together these fake command nodes on top of the routine patrolling had kept Major Dietz’s Marines occupied instead of bored. There are two things that worry me the most, one of Geary’s former commanding officers had once said. The first of those things is the great minds at fleet headquarters and whatever they might decide is a good idea. The second thing is bored Marines and what they might decide is a good idea.

The zero-g swim/pull back to the human-occupied portion of Invincible seemed much longer than the trip to the fake main engineering control. Without Admiral Lagemann and Major Dietz explaining their concerns and plans, Geary had nothing to distract him from the strange feeling of invisible others gathering around. He had to repeatedly fight down an urge to spin and look behind him as the skin between his shoulders crawled. A sense of being unwelcome, an intruder, seemed to fill the toxic air about him. If this was some normal Kick equipment, they could endure things humans could not. If it was a countermeasure to keep enemies from enjoying their conquests, it was fiendishly effective.

Invincible was not a happy ship. Usually that referred to the morale of the crew, but in this case the sailors and Marines were doing well enough. It was the ship herself that felt surly and ill-tempered.

Shuttle pilots usually left their hatches open into the ship while waiting for passengers to return, often coming out to stretch their legs and chat with any personnel at the air lock, but this time the pilot had stayed inside the shuttle and sealed the inner and outer hatches. Geary had to wait a few moments for the hatches to reopen and spent that time talking with the squad of Marines on sentry duty here. Normally an air lock like this might have one or at most two Marines guarding it, but after moving through the passageways of Invincible, Geary didn’t feel like questioning the number of sentries.

“Something about the air in the ship’s lock didn’t feel right,” the pilot apologized by intercom to Geary as he took a seat in the passenger deck.

“Did your sensors spot contaminants?” Geary asked the pilot, already guessing the answer would be negative.

“No, sir. Readouts said everything was fine. But it didn’t feel right,” the pilot repeated. “I thought it was better to keep the hatches closed until you got back.”

“You didn’t feel like looking around an alien warship?” Geary pressed.

“No, sir. That is, yes, sir. I was thinking about that, and the Marines there urged me to go ahead and wander around a bit, but when I went close to the air lock leading into the ship I . . . uh . . . it didn’t feel right. Especially since those Marines seemed real eager for me to go in on my own.”

Bored Marines. Definitely something to worry about.

—

THE number of people in the fleet who knew the precise reason why the fleet would remain at Midway for the next couple of weeks was limited to four—Geary, Desjani, Rione, and Charban. Continued repair work provided justification for the delay, but feedback to Geary from his commanding officers and the senior enlisted told him that his crews were getting increasingly restless.

That information had been chillingly confirmed by an incident on one of the assault transports.

Dr. Nasr looked worn-out, but then, he often did these days. “We have had an incident with one of the Marines that I wanted to be sure you were aware of.”