The Lost Fleet Beyond the Frontier Invincible

THE bear-cow armada continued to grow in size as individual ships joined up, the entire force continuing on a path to intercept the human fleet. The human fleet hadn’t altered its own vector, still curving through the outer edges of the star system toward the next jump point. If no one altered speeds or trajectories, in thirty-two hours, the fleet would come within estimated range of the missile ships based on the alien fortress, and in thirty-five hours, the alien armada would intercept whatever was left of the human fleet after that.

Geary sat looking at the display, wondering what Desjani would think of his idea. At least she hadn’t already dismissed it as unworkable. Since no one had provided him with any alternative ideas as of yet, he had to keep hoping it could work.

Worn-out, but too keyed up to sleep, he left his stateroom to walk the passageways of Dauntless as the morning crew came on duty. They had to see him, had to see the admiral looking confident and calm. He didn’t feel particularly confident or calm, but figuring out how to look that way regardless was an important part of being an officer. Don’t worry too much about the sailors’ seeing you get a little worried sometimes, one of his chief petty officers had told Geary when he was a lieutenant. That just tells them you’re smart enough to know when to worry. Don’t look too worried, or they’ll think you don’t know what to do. And, for the love of your ancestors, never look like you’re never worried. That’ll make the crew think you’re either an idiot or a fool. They know officers are human, and no human with half a brain is never worried. But as long as you seem to know what you’re doing, they’ll follow you.

The memory, of a woman who had probably died eighty or more years ago in the first decades of the war with the Syndics, brought a smile to Geary’s lips. The Master Chief Gioninni he had met a while back didn’t have the same last name, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t have been a descendant of Senior Chief Voss. Certainly he seemed to have the same genes for conniving and chicanery that had made Voss extremely valuable to then-Lieutenant Geary, as well as a constant source of anxiety.

The crew members he passed saw Geary’s smile, and their own worried expressions faded into confidence. The admiral obviously had the situation well in hand. It’s a good thing that Desjani is the only person on this ship who can read my mind, he thought wryly.

His walk brought him past the worship spaces, where members of the crew could follow their own practices in privacy. Geary chose a small room and sat down alone, lighting the small candle that waited there. Ancestors, help me make the right decisions. What more could he ask? But he shouldn’t just ask for things. My thanks for helping to bring us this far.

He was starting to stand when Geary remembered one other issue and sat back down. Commander Michael Geary. We still don’t know if you died when your ship Repulse was destroyed. Are you there with our ancestors? He tried to sense a response and felt nothing. Your sister, my grandniece, is acting odd. I don’t know what’s going on with her. It’s more than just a much higher level of aggressiveness. That’s just a symptom of something. But what? If you know, please help me understand.

And if you’re still alive, captive of the Syndics, I’ll find you and liberate you someday. I won’t stop trying. I promise.