The Lost Fleet – Dauntless

“Basically a meaner version of the missiles you were used to.”

“Wraiths, you mean?”

“Yes. Specters are autonomous missiles like the old wraiths, but they’re more maneuverable, carry multiple warheads to give them a better chance of punching through shields and into an enemy’s hull, and have better survival chances against enemy active defenses.” She gestured outward. “Defenses have improved, too. Shields are stronger, rebuild and adjust coverage faster, and the ships’ physical hulls have some better survival characteristics.”

There hadn’t been a radical change in weaponry, then. The ships still used missiles at longer ranges, augmented by hell-lances and grapeshot when they got close enough. Heavier weapons but deployed against stronger defenses. “What’s this-”

“Captain?” Both Geary and Desjani jerked their heads around to look at the sailor who’d spoken, Geary taking a moment to realize the call hadn’t been directed at him. The sailor in turn seemed uncertain who to report to. “The Syndic fleet is broadcasting a demand for individual ships to announce their surrender immediately.”

Geary fought down an urge to grimace, all too aware everyone was looking at him for his reaction. Rione’s efforts to stall had obviously hit their limit. He wondered whether simply remaining silent would cause the Syndics to waste time repeating their demands. “Captain Desjani, I’d appreciate your estimate of what will happen if we don’t respond.”

She hesitated, then spoke in a rush. “I can’t be sure what the Syndics will do, but if we don’t reply, there’s a chance some of our ships may respond on their own. And if some begin surrendering-”

“Damn.” As much as he hated to admit it, Geary knew from what he’d seen in the conference room that she was right. He couldn’t stay silent and risk that outcome. “I want to talk to the Syndic commander.”

“Private channel, sir?”

“No. I want everyone to see and hear us.”

“We’ll send a hail to the Syndic flagship. It’s a few light-minutes away.” Desjani pointed toward the communications watch, conveying her order with the motion. That sailor nodded and began working his controls. Several minutes passed, then the sailor gestured forward. Geary followed the gesture with his eyes and saw a new display spring to life. Centered in it was the familiar image of the Syndic CEO who’d announced the murder of Admiral Bloch and his fellow Alliance senior officers. “Dauntless?” the CEO asked. “You were Bloch’s flagship, were you not? Are you capable of surrendering the fleet en masse, then?”

Geary straightened, trying to keep his temper down, but not bothering to hide his own feelings. “You’re not talking to the captain of the Dauntless. You’re talking to the fleet commander.”

The Syndic flagship was slightly behind the lead elements of the enemy fleet, placing it close to three light-minutes away from Dauntless. Geary kept his answer as short as he dared, then waited for his reply to reach the other ship, knowing the built-in time lag would automatically help buy more time for his fleet.

Three minutes from Dauntless to the enemy flagship, then three minutes back. At about six minutes after Geary’s reply, he finally saw the Syndic CEO’s eyes shift in annoyance. “I don’t care what you style yourself. I’ve been very generous out of humanitarian concern for the wellbeing of fellow humans, but your time is up. Broadcast surrender, drop your shields, and deactivate all offensive and defensive weapon systems immediately or you will be destroyed.”

Geary shook his head for emphasis. “No.”

Six minutes later, he saw the Syndic fleet CEO frown in response to the brief reply. “Very well. Dauntless will be destroyed. Now if you don’t mind, I’m sure other ships will be trying to surrender.”

“The ships of this fleet are under my command, not yours, and they will fight under my command,” Geary stated, trying to put all the ice that had once filled him into his tone. He knew his reply would be heard by his own ships far quicker than it would be received by the much farther-away enemy flagship, and would hopefully forestall any individual Alliance commanders still tempted to trust their fate to surrender. “The Alliance fleet is not beaten and will not surrender.” He hoped the words conveyed a confidence he didn’t really feel. But as long as he seemed confident on the outside, his own ships and the Syndics wouldn’t know what was going on inside Geary.

The long-distance conversation had been continuing for almost twenty minutes when Geary saw the Syndic CEO looking off to the side, apparently checking one of his own displays. “It seems I’ll have to have my intelligence staff reeducated. I find no match for you in my database of Alliance officers.”

“You’re not looking in the right place,” Geary advised, letting a small humorless smile show. “Try looking under deceased officers. As far back as your files go.”