And that would require taking more risks that he’d really prefer not having to take.

  * * *

  THE time spent transiting to the planet proved to be remarkably uneventful for what was supposed to be a first-contact experience. Lokaa didn’t send more messages. Occasionally a few Taon ships would arrive or depart from the other jump point the star system boasted. Most of those ships coming and going were the large ones the humans had decided must be freighters or passenger ships or perhaps both. But it was impossible to miss that every large ship had at least one smaller warship escorting it.

  The numbers of Taon warships in their large fleet near the inhabited world fluctuated a bit with the comings and goings, but never went below one hundred.

  “Their total numbers always add up to multiples of six,” Lieutenant Jamenson observed. “Lokaa’s group of ships was six in number.”

  “Add that to our list of things we need to try to understand,” General Charban said, rubbing the bridge of his nose as if that would help him think. “Really, Admiral, can’t you keep us to one baffling alien species at a time?”

  “Does Lokaa have six fingers?” Geary asked. He’d come down to the transmitter room where Charban’s homegrown experts were still gathering, hoping they might have seen something significant.

  “Lokaa has four fingers, or rather three fingers and what looks like a finger-thumb,” Jamenson said.

  “So this makes no sense at all,” Geary said.

  “Welcome to the universe, Admiral,” Dr. Cresida said without looking up from her comm pad.

  * * *

  BY the time the Alliance task force neared the planet, their crews were well rested but restless. “There are few things more stress inducing than expecting something to happen that keeps not happening,” Captain Duellos commented to Geary during a brief meeting in his stateroom that had kept mostly to professional topics. “Or knowing something may have already happened, and not knowing how it came out.”

  “Knowing when they’ll act should help protect her,” Geary said, being careful with his words even in his stateroom where no one should be able to overhear.

  “Which is why I didn’t protest the plan,” Duellos said, his face taking on additional years of age as he spoke. “But it is hard. It is very hard.” He sighed. “Why do we never get used to this? During the war, depending on how far distant someone was, it might take a year for word of a particular death to reach you. At a minimum, it would be a few months. The only times you knew what had happened when it happened was when you were in that same star system.” He paused. “And even then if you were a few light hours distant you’d only learn the worst when you finally saw it. Oh, my friend must’ve died an hour ago when that ship exploded.”

  Duellos gave Geary a glance. “There are those who claim they have received such news the moment it happened, even if the loss of a close friend, or a family member, took place hundreds of light years distant. They say they felt it instantly, only to have the pain confirmed months later.”

  “I’ve heard such things,” Geary said. It was very hard to think of anything else to say. “Do you believe that can happen?”

  Duellos shrugged. “I believe I don’t know enough to know. Maybe it does happen sometimes. Maybe it doesn’t. Your grand-niece Jane always said she was certain her brother Michael was still alive because she had never felt him die. Here’s what I do know. When you have a child, the entire universe changes in that moment. It never returns to what it was before. They don’t warn you about that. Tantrums, diseases, puberty, you can find lots of advice for dealing with those. But they never warn you how everything changes. It’s . . . wonderful, and it’s also the source of many sleepless nights, and worries for them every day of what is left of your life.

  “And, after years and years in which they are your responsibility, they leave. You no longer get to decide for them.” He gave Geary a rueful smile. “Even though you still worry just as much. I confess I’ll be relieved to return to that Dancer star system, and yet also dreading that moment for what I might learn.”

  “Some of the best people in the fleet are watching over her,” Geary said, feeling that his words were woefully inadequate.

  “That means a great deal,” Duellos said. “Not so long ago her fate would have rested in the hands of commanders like the late Captain Falco or Admiral Atropa. I do sleep better knowing that Armus, Jane Geary, and Plant have their eyes on her. Of course, right now they’re wondering what’s happening to us.”

  “We’re not dead yet,” Geary said. “Beyond that, we’re waiting, too.”

  * * *

  GEARY had tried occasional messages to Lokaa, which were invariably answered with the Taon smile and assurances that the human were welcome.

  Finally, when the fleet was only ten light minutes from the planet, Lokaa sent a more substantive message. “Go here. Safe. Good orbit.”

  The accompanying diagram did indeed show the Alliance task force in orbit about the planet. But it was low orbit, only a couple of thousand kilometers from the surface.

  “Maybe they’re trying to show that they trust us near one of their inhabited planets,” General Charban suggested. He and the other alien communicators still hadn’t had any luck figuring out anything about the Taon. “Am I correct that this fleet from that orbit could bombard that planet lifeless before the other Taon ships could do anything about it?”

  “You’re very likely correct,” Geary said. “We don’t know what the Taon combat capabilities are, but they’d have to act remarkably fast to stop us if we unleashed a bombardment.”

  “It’s not a low enough orbit to create too much danger from whatever anti-orbital defenses they have hidden on the planet’s surface,” Captain Desjani conceded. “It’s actually at the high end of low orbit. I’m not thrilled with it, but I can’t honestly say it poses too great a danger to us.”

  Forty-two hours after arriving in the star system, the Alliance fleet assumed a low orbit about the Taon-inhabited planet.

  And waited.

  “We are literally just going around in circles waiting for the Taon to do something,” Desjani complained two days later.

  “I’ve sent messages to Lokaa asking about meetings, in person or virtual,” Geary reminded her. “You’ve seen their replies.”

  “Yeah. ‘Hi, friends! Safe! Not worry!’ Well, I’m worrying,” she grumbled.

  They were in Geary’s stateroom, along with Kommodor Bradamont and Colonel Rogero, having an impromptu meeting. “Does what the Taon are doing make any sense from a Midway perspective?” Geary asked Rogero and Bradamont.

  “No,” Rogero said. “Not if the goal is to establish relationships. That requires meetings, even if you don’t like whoever you have to meet with.”

  “It does make sense if their goal is to keep us here,” Bradamont said. “But why? It’s not like the Taon could be launching a sneak attack on the rest of the fleet in Dancer space while we’re tied up here.”

  “If we’ve read the Dancers at all right,” Geary said, leaning back with a sigh, “they would defend their star system, and the rest of our fleet, from such an attack. I wouldn’t want to find out the hard way what kind of defenses the Dancers have against that kind of danger.”

  “Are we waiting for somebody again?” Desjani asked. “Just like at the first Dancer star system? But there’s been no sign of any courier ships rushing about to send word that we’re here to some high boss at another Taon star. I do not like the way that Taon fleet keeps edging closer and closer. It looks like ships just moving around in their formation, or coming and going, but they always end up closer to this planet. They started out five light minutes from us. Now they’re just over three light minutes away.”

  “They must realize we can see that happening,” Bradamont said. “Are they waiting for us to object?”

  “I did,” Geary said. “Lokaa said everything was fine.”

  “We’re not learning anything about them,” Desjani said. “I don’t know what they think they’re learning about us. Maybe how far they can push us before we say goodbye and leave?”

  Geary was searching for an answer, and failing to find one, when another message came in.

  Lokaa had their oval “smile” on and the usual effusive attitude. “Human welcome. Come planet! Come surface. Relax. Fun. Special place. Safe. One-third crews good. Come now!”

  “They want us to send our crews to the surface for rest and recreation?” Desjani said in disbelief.

  “Up to one-third of our crews at any one time,” Bradamont added. “Is this a way for them to learn how large our crews are?”

  “We need a senior ship commanders meeting,” Geary said.

  Less than half an hour later he was in the conference room along with Desjani, Bradamont, Rogero, and General Charban, who had been picked up along the way. Seated in virtual form along the table were Captain Duellos and Captain Badaya. Geary had known how his forces had been worn down in battles, how many battle cruisers had been lost, but only now when he realized these were all of the senior officers present did that finally sneak past his emotional barriers to hit him.

  “They want us to send up to one-third of our total crews on liberty on the surface at any one time,” Duellos repeated as if unable to believe what he had heard.

  “That would be popular with the crews,” Captain Badaya said. He didn’t seem to entirely approve of the idea of doing something on that basis. “But that would leave us with one-third of our crews away from our ships and subject to whatever the Taon want to do. Hostages. A lot of them. And enough of the crews gone that our ships’ fighting ability will be compromised. That’s what I’m seeing.”

  “For once,” Captain Desjani said, “I’m in full agreement with Captain Badaya. We still know so little about the Taon.”

  “Where are they talking about our sailors visiting?” Duellos asked. “That would make a difference, wouldn’t it? If they were in the middle of a Taon city it could make that city hostage to us if anything went wrong.”

  “A special place that is safe,” Captain Desjani said. “That’s how they identified it.”

  “That could be the description of a prison,” Badaya said.

  “I’m leaning toward agreement with your officers,” General Charban said. “Except that this would offer a tremendous opportunity to see and interact with the Taon face-to-face for those who went to the surface. An invaluable opportunity that we might not be offered again.”

  “If it’s a trap they’ll offer again,” Badaya said.

  “I’m not comfortable with this,” Geary said. “But General Charban is right. If this means face-to-face meetings with the Taon we have to consider it.”

  “One-third of our crews on the surface?” Desjani demanded. “At the mercy of the Taon who we know so little about?”

  “No. Not one-third. That’s far too many.”

  “Offer less,” Kommodor Bradamont suggested. “Bargain with them. Say we’ll send a few down to see how things are, and if all goes well maybe we’ll send more.”

  “I could accept that,” Duellos said.

  “How many is a few, and which few?” Badaya asked skeptically.

  “Which few should be Marines,” Duellos said. “Who better to stress test a liberty site? And if things do go to hell, the Marines will be better suited to fighting their way out than our sailors would be.”

  “That’s amazingly cynical,” Desjani said, grinning. “Should we inflict Marines on liberty on the Taon, though?”

  “It’s practical! We have the two stealth shuttles,” Captain Duellos pointed out. “If they keep their stealth capabilities unused until needed, they could offer an escape means even if things get hot. Use the reinforced Marine detachments aboard Dauntless and Inspire to select some volunteers, then send down a total of thirty or forty Marines in those two shuttles.”

  “Unless they’re sleeping on the shuttles they’d need to be able to get to the shuttles to escape,” Badaya pointed out. “If the Taon want to double-cross us, they’re not going to let anyone on the ground just dance their way onto the shuttles to leave.”

  “Sending down fully armed Marines might trigger just the problem we want to avoid,” General Charban warned. “We can’t make our liberty party look like an assault team.”

  “We’ll tell them that’s how we always do things!” Badaya insisted. “Our Marines take their weapons with them on liberty.”

  “Just thinking about Marines with weapons on liberty scares the hell out of me,” Desjani said.

  Geary nodded emphatically. “It does seem like a great way to start a war with the Taon. If we do this, we want a chance of a peaceful outcome. But I also want those Marines to have an escape option if worst comes to worst.”

  The following silent pause was broken by General Charban. “A Trojan horse. You need a Trojan horse.”

  “How does hiding all of the Marines inside the shuttles help us figure out a way for them to go on liberty on the surface?” Desjani asked.

  “You don’t hide all of them,” Charban said. “Say twenty Marines to a shuttle? Send five of them with a full combat load-out. Those five stay hidden and sealed in the shuttle. As far as the Taon know, they’re not there. But if the Marines on liberty suddenly need strong backup, the armed Marines on the shuttles come out and give them the cover they need to get to the shuttles.”

  “That’s not a bad idea,” Duellos said. “Why did you pick five out of the twenty on each shuttle?”

  “Your shuttles are similar to the ones the ground forces use,” Charban said. “They’re not made for long-term habitation, but you can do it for several days with five people. More than that and you might end up with life-support problems.”

  “I hear the voice of experience speaking,” Duellos said.

  “Yes,” Charban said, memories flitting across his face. “Ten of us were sealed inside a shuttle for nine days after an emergency landing. I don’t recommend it.”

  Desjani turned to Geary. “We need to talk to Gunnery Sergeant Orvis. He’ll be the one in charge of Dauntless’s Marine liberty party.”

  “Who’s the commander of your Marine detachment?” Geary said to Duellos.

  “Sergeant Barnwell,” Duellos said. “She’s been with Inspire for years. She’s a solid performer.”

  “We’ll bring Orvis and Barnwell in on this,” Geary said. “Get their opinions before we go any further with the plan. If they agree it’s doable, with acceptable risk, we’ll proceed.”

  “Admiral,” Colonel Rogero said. “May I request a place among the, um, liberty party?”

  Kommodor Bradamont bit her lip, but said nothing.

  “That’s not a bad idea,” Badaya said, not noticing Bradamont’s reaction. “You’re experienced with Syndic practices. If the Taon try anything sneaky you’d be better at spotting it than our own people.”

  “Colonel Rogero might well see things our Marines wouldn’t notice,” Desjani agreed with visible reluctance.

  Bradamont, having recovered her poise, spoke in a controlled voice. “Colonel Rogero is also a field-grade officer with extensive combat and command experience. If things go bad on the surface he could be very valuable to the Marines.”

  “Will our Marines take orders from him, though?” Duellos asked.

  “He’s got a good reputation with them because of the combat records from Iwa,” Geary said. “I admit it would be a comfort to me to know someone of Colonel Rogero’s caliber was on the surface with our Marines. But are you both certain that Midway would approve of you running that risk?”

  “Yes, Admiral,” Rogero said.

  “Yes, Admiral,” Bradamont agreed, no longer betraying any personal feelings about the idea.

  “Then let’s run with this plan,” Geary ordered. “We have to learn more about the Taon, and this may be our best opportunity.”

  Gunnery Sergeant Orvis and Sergeant Barnwell, after conferring over the idea, both gave it a thumbs-up and began selecting which five of each of their detachments would form the Trojan horse force. No one wanted to be part of that group since those five from each ship would end up confined inside their shuttles while their fellow Marines enjoyed whatever pleasures the Taon offered.

  After some debate, it was decided the shuttle pilots would also remain concealed aboard their birds, staying hidden along with the five Marines who had “volunteered” for the assignment.

  The stealth shuttle pilots were less than thrilled with that decision. But, being Marines themselves, they also ended up volunteering to do it.

  There was another volunteer as well, when Geary stopped by the Dancer-modified transmitter room to discuss what the Marines should be told to look for.

  In the midst of the discussion Lieutenant Iger hesitated, not looking at Lieutenant Jamenson, then spoke up. “Admiral, I should be part of the group sent down to the surface. The opportunities for collection of information require my presence.”

  Jamenson inhaled sharply, clenching into a fist the hand visible above the table, but said nothing. She also avoided looking at Iger.

  There were a lot of situations where making one person happy meant making another unhappy. In this case, though, the danger posed by going to the surface made the decision not very difficult. “Thank you for volunteering, Lieutenant Iger,” Geary said. “But I can’t permit that. You know too many Alliance secrets to risk having you in the custody of a species that is still unknown to us in too many vital ways. I want you in contact with the Marines on the surface, but I want any collection you do to be from this ship.”

  “Yes, sir,” Iger said, crestfallen. “I understand.”

  Lieutenant Jamenson shot Geary a grateful look, but he avoided meeting her eyes. Because he knew that if the circumstances had been different he might have accepted Iger’s offer regardless of the danger.