The Lost Fleet: Fearless

Then Geary paused, looking at the military base. Zooming in on the image, he saw intelligence assessments scrolling next to it. The convoys of civilians were still heading away, but most of the military seemed to still be at their stations. Where’s those so-called leaders? Pulling the scale out, Geary spotted the targeting information. Optics designed to gain detailed information across billions of kilometers hadn’t had any trouble spotting the entrance to the command bunker where the high command had taken shelter. Geary felt himself smiling grimly as he tagged that location for a kinetic round designed to penetrate deeply on impact.

By the time he was done deciding the fate of two worlds, the first shuttles were lifting off from Sutrah Five, and the Alliance fleet was looping back through the space where the moons of Sutrah Five had once been. Many of the smaller pieces of debris from the destruction had been snagged by the gravity of Sutrah Five and might someday form a tenuous ring around the planet.

“Captain Geary,” Colonel Carabali reported, “all personnel are loaded. The last shuttles should be off the surface by time one six.”

“Understood, Colonel, thank you.” Geary turned and sent the targeting commands to the combat system, which evaluated the targets, the weapons available on every ship, and launch angles before spitting back two seconds later a detailed plan. Geary skimmed it, checking how much his retaliation would draw down the fleet’s supply of kinetic projectiles and seeing that he’d have plenty left, even if Titan and her sisters weren’t able to manufacture new ones. He paused on the estimated ground casualties section. “I need to send a message to every Syndic in the system.”

Desjani nodded, gesturing to the communications officer, who rapidly set up the circuit, then gave her a thumbs-up back. “You’re ready, sir.”

Geary composed himself, checking to make sure the last Alliance shuttles had lifted before transmitting. “People of the Sutrah Star System, this is Captain John Geary, commanding officer of the Alliance fleet transiting your system. You’ve been betrayed by your leaders. Their sneak attacks on this fleet and on the forces liberating Alliance prisoners of war grant us the right to conduct retaliatory bombardments of your worlds.” He paused to let that sink in. “In exchange for the possibility of harming a few of our ships, your leaders placed your homes and your lives in our hands. Fortunately for you, the Alliance fleet does not war on civilians.” Not anymore, anyway. Not while Geary was in command. Hopefully his “old-fashioned” attitudes would someday wear off on the other officers.

“We will launch retaliation strikes at targets of our choosing on Sutrah Five and Sutrah Four. A list of targets in or near civilian areas will follow this message so evacuation can proceed before impacts. We aren’t required to provide that list, but our war is with your leaders. Remember that we could’ve wiped all life from this system and been justified by the laws of war. We choose not to do so. The Alliance is not your enemy. Your own leaders are your enemies.

“To the honor of our ancestors,” Geary recited. He’d been told the old form for ending a broadcast of this type was rarely used anymore, but clung to it. He still believed in it, and somehow it helped anchor him in this future in which honor had taken on sometimes alien meanings. “This is Captain John Geary, commanding officer of the Alliance fleet. End transmission.”

Rione spoke from behind him. “Thank you, Captain Geary, for acting to minimize the suffering of the populations of these worlds.”

He looked back at her and nodded. “You’re welcome. But it’s what I would’ve done anyway. It’s what honor demands.”

“The honor of our ancestors,” Rione replied, no trace of irony in her answer.

Captain Desjani stood up. “The shuttles from Dauntless will be docking soon. I should be at the shuttle dock to greet our new arrivals.”

“I should, too,” Geary agreed, standing as well and trying to conceal his reluctance. It really was his duty to greet the newly liberated Alliance personnel, even though he’d much rather have gone to his stateroom to avoid the public spectacle.

“May I accompany you?” Rione asked them both.

“Of course,” Desjani replied, seeming startled by the request. Geary realized she probably had been surprised, since Rione had every right to demand to go along with them and had instead asked permission. He wondered whether the request reflected political calculation to win Desjani over or sincere deference to the captain of a ship. Geary found himself hoping it was the latter.

The three of them walked to the shuttle dock, Geary and Desjani exchanging greetings with every crew member of Dauntless they passed, Geary getting real satisfaction out of the number of personnel who saluted him. His campaign to return saluting as routine seemed to be working.