The Lost Fleet: Beyond the Frontier: Leviathan by Jack Campbell Page A
Authors: Jack Campbell
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work clothes. “I’ve been going through recent shipping reports and finding some very disturbing things,” he continued, Timbale’s relaxed tone of voice and outward demeanor clashing with his words.
“Disturbing things?” Geary asked, nodding and smiling at passersby who brightened at the sight of him.
“Yes.” Timbale glanced sideways at Geary. “Shipping losses. You understand, we’re used to a certain level of those. Syndic raiders slipping into border star systems. Sabotage. Accidents due to rushed manufacture of the ships or hazardous materials being transported. Stuff happens. Once the war officially ended and word of that filtered through the Syndic border star systems, we had a big change for the better. Shipping losses declined by over seventy percent.”
“That’s good.”
“Yes. But less good is the fact that, according to the reports that have come in, we saw a resurgence of losses in recent months.” Timbale looked down, his mouth working. “Freighters and other shipping that never reached their destinations. Sometimes wreckage was identified, but with all of the wreckage in most star systems within a score of light-years of Syndic space, that hasn’t been possible too often.”
As he returned salutes from several passing ground forces soldiers, Geary somehow managed to keep his smile fixed despite an urge to snarl. “Mysterious, unexplained losses.”
“And no survivors from the crews.” Timbale reached one hand up and back to rub his neck. “We had thought, well, that’s the Syndics. They’ve been messing with us, like they did with your forces transiting their space, and this is just more Syndic ugliness. But no one has spotted any Syndic warships transiting Alliance space in or near the star systems where the losses have occurred.”
“Unbelievable,” Geary murmured. “I wonder how those ships were written off by the people running the dark ship program? Collateral damage? Training accidents?”
“They would have had trouble blaming it on personnel error,” Timbale said, his eyes now straight ahead as he walked beside Geary.
“I’d like to see that data,” Geary said. “See where the losses have been occurring.”
“It might help identify where the base is,” Timbale said. “Listen. You need to say something. Give an interview. I know you can’t talk about the dark ships and all of the garbage associated with that, but the people need to hear Black Jack telling them to keep the faith.”
“Surely there are other people who can tell them that,” Geary said, reluctant to step into such a public role again.
“There are,” Timbale agreed. “But no one believes them when they talk about what the Alliance means and how important it is because they don’t believe it. But you do, don’t you?”
“Yes.”
“They’re putting it all together, Admiral,” Timbale emphasized. “The press and others. This is going to come out. Word of what happened to Atalia is all over the place, and word is trickling in from Indras. A lot of people saw your ships apparently fighting nothing and taking damage from apparently nothing, and they want to know what the hell happened here. Corporations want to know what’s happening to their ships and their cargoes. Families are raising hell about missingcrews. And some of your own sailors and Marines are finding ways to talk to people. You and I both know that it’s going to take a while for the government to decide how to respond to this mess. Fleet headquarters is going to pass the buck for doing anything to the government, so don’t expect any orders from them. That means it’s up to us to handle things here for the time being, which means it is really up to you.”
“Things keep working out that way, don’t they?” Geary said. He looked over and saw a group of civilians hustling toward him, their clothes and overall appearance matching those of newscasters.
The woman in the lead skidded to a halt about a meter short of
“Disturbing things?” Geary asked, nodding and smiling at passersby who brightened at the sight of him.
“Yes.” Timbale glanced sideways at Geary. “Shipping losses. You understand, we’re used to a certain level of those. Syndic raiders slipping into border star systems. Sabotage. Accidents due to rushed manufacture of the ships or hazardous materials being transported. Stuff happens. Once the war officially ended and word of that filtered through the Syndic border star systems, we had a big change for the better. Shipping losses declined by over seventy percent.”
“That’s good.”
“Yes. But less good is the fact that, according to the reports that have come in, we saw a resurgence of losses in recent months.” Timbale looked down, his mouth working. “Freighters and other shipping that never reached their destinations. Sometimes wreckage was identified, but with all of the wreckage in most star systems within a score of light-years of Syndic space, that hasn’t been possible too often.”
As he returned salutes from several passing ground forces soldiers, Geary somehow managed to keep his smile fixed despite an urge to snarl. “Mysterious, unexplained losses.”
“And no survivors from the crews.” Timbale reached one hand up and back to rub his neck. “We had thought, well, that’s the Syndics. They’ve been messing with us, like they did with your forces transiting their space, and this is just more Syndic ugliness. But no one has spotted any Syndic warships transiting Alliance space in or near the star systems where the losses have occurred.”
“Unbelievable,” Geary murmured. “I wonder how those ships were written off by the people running the dark ship program? Collateral damage? Training accidents?”
“They would have had trouble blaming it on personnel error,” Timbale said, his eyes now straight ahead as he walked beside Geary.
“I’d like to see that data,” Geary said. “See where the losses have been occurring.”
“It might help identify where the base is,” Timbale said. “Listen. You need to say something. Give an interview. I know you can’t talk about the dark ships and all of the garbage associated with that, but the people need to hear Black Jack telling them to keep the faith.”
“Surely there are other people who can tell them that,” Geary said, reluctant to step into such a public role again.
“There are,” Timbale agreed. “But no one believes them when they talk about what the Alliance means and how important it is because they don’t believe it. But you do, don’t you?”
“Yes.”
“They’re putting it all together, Admiral,” Timbale emphasized. “The press and others. This is going to come out. Word of what happened to Atalia is all over the place, and word is trickling in from Indras. A lot of people saw your ships apparently fighting nothing and taking damage from apparently nothing, and they want to know what the hell happened here. Corporations want to know what’s happening to their ships and their cargoes. Families are raising hell about missingcrews. And some of your own sailors and Marines are finding ways to talk to people. You and I both know that it’s going to take a while for the government to decide how to respond to this mess. Fleet headquarters is going to pass the buck for doing anything to the government, so don’t expect any orders from them. That means it’s up to us to handle things here for the time being, which means it is really up to you.”
“Things keep working out that way, don’t they?” Geary said. He looked over and saw a group of civilians hustling toward him, their clothes and overall appearance matching those of newscasters.
The woman in the lead skidded to a halt about a meter short of
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