Geary very briefly considered the idea of jumping Tanya Desjani right there and then in order to convince her that he was in fact human. It had, after all, been more than a century since his last physical encounter with a woman and that was a long dry spell no matter how you counted it. The thought gave him enough perverse amusement to lift his mood a bit. “It could’ve been about me. There was this raven-haired lieutenant who I thought was hotter than a plasma field. Fortunately for good order and discipline, she thought I was a geeky young ensign without many redeeming qualities.”
Desjani smiled politely, clearly not believing him. “Colonel Carabali asked that you contact her before the Marine shuttles launch. I was just about to have you paged.”
“Glad to know my timing is good.” Geary called up the Colonel, momentarily surprised to see that Carabali wasn’t in combat gear herself. But then she couldn’t be. Her responsibility is to exercise overall command of the teams going to the ships. She can’t go along with one of them. “Yes, Colonel?”
“Captain Geary, I wished to know if you had any special instructions for my Marines before their shuttles depart.”
“I don’t believe so, Colonel. My experience is that Marines know their jobs better than I know their jobs. I assume there’s no need to say I don’t trust the Syndics.”
Carabali grinned. “My people will be in full combat load-out. Even if those merchant ships are packed full of Syndic assault troops, my Marines will be able to fight their way out.”
“If that happens, Colonel, I assure you that my warships will make certain none of those merchant ships survives. But hopefully it won’t come to that. I’d like to have those supplies they’re carrying.”
“Understood, sir.” Carabali glanced to the side. “Ten minutes to shuttle launches. I’ll keep you informed of any developments.”
“Thank you.” Geary relaxed again, reassured by Carabali’s cool competence. It’s damn good to have the Marines backing you up. He scanned the fleet display, noting which warships were in the best positions to engage the Syndic merchants if necessary. It looks like we’re ready for anything. The thought brought to mind his old executive officer, long dead now even though Geary’s memories of him were only several weeks old. Geary had said the same thing to him once, only to have his XO look worried and comment that it made him wonder what they might’ve overlooked. Well, Patros, you’re safe with your ancestors now, and I’m still wondering what I might’ve overlooked.
Geary spent the next few minutes trying to fight off the dark mood that remembering his old shipmate had thrown him into. Patros didn’t belong here on the bridge of the Dauntless, but then neither did Geary. Two ghosts. That’s what Patros and I are. What the hell am I still doing here, alive and fighting a war that belongs to our descendants now?
The Marine shuttles finally began launching on schedule, giving Geary something else to concentrate on, each shuttle being tracked as it arced toward the particular merchant ship that was its target. Geary felt himself tensing as the shuttles, small and swift next to the large, ungainly merchant ships, swooped down toward the merchants
It felt oddly like watching a volley of specters homing on their targets, until the shuttles turned and began braking instead of accelerating to impact, as missiles would have. Geary, sweating for news of the Marines, belatedly remembered the video panel available to him and punched controls until it popped up again. Twenty screens flashed into existence next to Geary’s display, each showing the view from a Marine squad leader.
This time there wasn’t anything else he should be watching, so Geary watched, fascinated, as the Marines entered the merchant ships, conducted searches and posted guards in important areas like engineering and the bridge. It all went smoothly, with no resistance from the Syndics, who acted stiff and formal but not openly hostile. Unlike the large crews of warships needed to handle the special requirements of combat and combat damage, the merchant ships only had crews of about a dozen each, making it easy for the Marines to keep an eye on them all.
Geary had seen the interiors of Syndic merchant ships before, during the period before the war when his ship had been ordered to conduct inspections of ships passing through Alliance space. He recognized some of the features on the Syndic merchants here, causing him to wonder if the ships themselves were that old or if the design features had been retained for so long. He guessed either possibility could be true in a system bypassed by the hypernet.
One by one, the Marine squad leaders reported in, declaring the merchant ships to be to the best of their knowledge unarmed and proceeding peacefully to the rendezvous. But Geary noticed that the Marines watching the Syndic crews didn’t relax, remaining on full combat footing. Once again, he had a moment of empathy, wondering how it felt to the merchant sailors to have the armored figures of Marines looming nearby, alien visitors to the familiar compartments of their ships. As long as they don’t try anything, they’ll be safe. They should know that, after the way we handled the prisoners at the base. That should keep anyone from doing anything foolish.
The merchant ships crawled closer to the Alliance fleet, Geary watching the streaming images of the Syndic merchant crews as seen by the Marines on one side, while on the other his display showed the twenty Syndic merchant ships proceeding at what felt like a leisurely pace toward their rendezvous with the Alliance auxiliaries.
Nothing seemed to be wrong. Nothing at all. What could I be overlooking? Geary searched his brain for anything, but he kept coming up empty. Maybe for once we did cover everything.
“Captain Geary, this is Colonel Carabali.”
A new window had appeared, showing Carabali’s face. She didn’t look happy. “Sir, there’s something about this I don’t like.”
And maybe we didn’t. Geary glanced toward Captain Desjani and gestured for her attention. “The Colonel’s unhappy about something.”
Desjani frowned and keyed into the conversation.
“Go ahead, Colonel,” Geary ordered.
Carabali pointed at something Geary couldn’t see. “Are you watching the video from the Syndic ships, sir?”
“Yes.”
“Does anything seem odd about their crews to you, sir? As a fleet officer, sir?”
Geary frowned, too, and studied the pictures more closely. There was something odd about them, now that Carabali had drawn his attention to it. “Are the senior merchant officers all supposed to be on their bridges?”
“Yes, sir, they are.”
Desjani made a brief noise. “The Syndics seem to grow their senior merchant officers very young, don’t they?”
Carabali nodded. “Yes. Exactly. I assume the Syndics called for volunteers to crew these ships, but as far as I can tell from visual examination, there’s not a man or woman aboard those ships older than their twenties.”
“Interesting batch of volunteers,” Geary said slowly. Most of the merchant captains I knew wouldn’t have left their ships to someone else, even for a run like this.”
“I’ve questioned my Marines. They indicate there was a definite lack of familiarity with the ships by many of these so-called crew members. They thought that was due to volunteers being assigned to the ships from the pool of available merchant sailors, but I’m not so sure that’s the reason.”
Geary thought about that and didn’t like it. Merchant ships tended to have older officers, people who’d learned their jobs and worked their way up through long years of experience. It was a very different kind of professionalism than the fleet officer kind, but strong enough in its own way. He took another look at the alleged merchant crews. “Young and physically fit, too, aren’t they?”
“Look at their eyes, sir. Look at the way they carry themselves,” Carabali urged.
