HE hadn’t seen Captain Numos since after the battle at Ilion. Numos didn’t get up when Geary’s image appeared in his stateroom/cell, instead eyeing Geary with the same mixture of contempt and dislike that he’d shown from their first meeting. “What do you want?”
Refusing to let Numos get to him, Geary shook his head. “As I’m sure you’ve already heard, the crew of a shuttle, four Marines, and two fleet officers are dead. Do you think I care right now how you act?”
“No.” The direct answer seemed to startle Numos. “I just want you to consider the implications. Captain Casia and Commander Yin were silenced to prevent them from saying things. If you could say anything, you should be worried about what your alleged friends were planning.”
Numos snorted derisively. “I’m supposed to trust you instead? How do I know you didn’t arrange that little accident to get rid of two officers who had challenged your authority?”
“If I had wanted either of them dead,” Geary pointed out, “I had full justification to order it openly under fleet regulations. Captain Casia was on his way to face a firing squad. Why would I have destroyed a shuttle to kill a condemned man?”
“You’ve already eliminated Captain Franco, Captain Faresa, Captain Midea, Captain Kerestes . . . Have I missed anyone?”
Geary sat down, gazing intently at Numos. “You aren’t that stupid. You know those deaths happened in action. You know that Midea caused her own death. I’ve been wondering how you kept her under control.”
Numos shrugged. “She respected legitimate authority.”
He’d wondered if his dislike of Numos had tinged his memories, making them worse. Apparently not. “Maybe you are that stupid. Your friends have cold-bloodedly murdered members of the Alliance fleet.”
“Actually, no, I never said that. You’ve used the word repeatedly. Funny that you should be so certain.” Geary’s thrust went home as Numos’s eyes glittered with anger. “I don’t know whether you think there’s some tiny chance that you would be accepted as fleet commander if I were gone. There isn’t. I don’t know whether you think I plan on making myself dictator when we return to the Alliance. That isn’t going to happen.”
Geary studied Numos for a few seconds. “I did think you’d show a little more emotion over the deaths of fellow officers.” Numos gazed back impassively. “If any more accidents happen, you’re going to be in an interrogation facility, Captain Numos. I know you’ve received training on wording your replies to fool even brain scans, but we’ve got some very good interrogators in this fleet. I also know that while I can’t justify subjecting a fleet captain to interrogation without some grounds right now, another accident will arouse enough concern for me to do so.” Numos reddened but remained silent. “Tell your friends.”
Geary stood up, triggered his controls, and vanished from Numos’s stateroom.
“I told you that it would be a waste of time,” Rione remarked, lounging back in her seat. She hadn’t been part of the virtual meeting, but she’d been able to observe the entire thing.
“I had to try.” Geary shook his head. “I don’t know how I’ve managed to avoid ordering Numos shot and dumped out of the nearest air lock.”
“Black Jack could do it.” Rione seemed thoughtful. “Black Jack gets to make his own rules. I think Black Jack should order Numos into interrogation now.”
“So you told me.” Geary sat down, rubbing his forehead. “I’ve sounded out some other officers. They all agree that I could get away with it, but it would both frighten those who think I want to be a dictator and encourage everyone who wants me to be a dictator. Both things could trigger more events that I really don’t want. I need more justification.”
“That justification may involve more deaths,” Rione emphasized.
“I know that. Acting prematurely might cause even more. I take it your spies still have nothing to report?”
“No.” She frowned. “The fleet is buzzing over the shuttle accident, but it all seems to be surprise and conjecture over how the fuel-cell failure could have happened. No one seems to be openly implying that you might have had a role in it, since everyone else seems smarter than Numos and knows you didn’t need to blow up a shuttle if you wanted Casia and Yin both dead. The silence is deafening among your opponents in this fleet. I wish I knew what that meant.”
He studied her for almost a minute before asking a question that had been bothering him. “Why didn’t you ever tell me that some of those opposed to my commanding this fleet were motivated by fear of my becoming a dictator?”
Rione made a dismissive gesture. “Because their exact motives didn’t make any practical difference.”
She laughed. “Getting paranoid? I’ll make a politician of you yet. No, John Geary, they didn’t. I’m convinced that our motives only partly coincided at any point. That is, both they and I don’t want you to be a dictator. But I also want the elected government of the Alliance to remain in power. I suspect that your foes such as the late Commander Yin and her friends believe in the need for a military dictator. They just don’t want you to be that dictator.”
That made sense. “Like Falco. Some other senior officer who thinks the way to save the Alliance is to overthrow its government.” Rione nodded. “I have increasing trouble believing that they are backing Numos though. That interview just confirmed for me that he’s too arrogant to make a decent pawn, and too dumb to function on his own. But he makes trouble for me, and that probably makes him useful to them.”
“That could well be true,” she said. “I think your assessment is right, that the conspirators are happy to take advantage of Numos’s hostility to you but that Numos is too prideful and unimaginative ever to work as a puppet for them. I suppose in that light there’s not much sense in pushing to have him interrogated quickly.”
“Yeah. I’ll bet he doesn’t know a thing that’ll help us.” Geary stared at the star display, feeling a need to bring something else up. “How many officers in this fleet are willing to back a dictatorship? I’ve been told it’s a strong majority, so maybe I should ask how many aren’t willing to do that, since that seems to be a much smaller number. Duellos wouldn’t, I don’t think Tulev would, or Cresida—”
“Don’t be so sure about Cresida,” Rione objected. “And I’m a little uncertain about Tulev now. Even before you miraculously returned from the dead, the civilian government was increasingly worried about the loyalty of its officer corps. It’s our own fault. We know that. They’re on the front lines, watching their friends and comrades die, and we can’t tell them that it’s bringing us any closer to victory. It’s been that way for a century. Their grandfathers and grandmothers, their fathers and mothers, watched comrades die or died themselves in the same war. I’m sometimes surprised that our elected government has managed to survive a war this long.”
She waved an angry hand. “It’s made its share of mistakes. So has the military. But it’s not about that. It’s about frustration. A century of war and no end in sight. People want something, anything, that would hold out hope for an end to it.” Rione shook her head at Geary. “And then you show up. The hero who legend decreed would return to save the Alliance in its hour of greatest need. Do you wonder that so many are looking to you?”
“That hero is a myth,” Geary insisted.
“Not entirely, no, and in any event, what you think scarcely matters. It’s what everyone else thinks. You can save the Alliance. Or you can destroy it. It took me a while to put that together. You embody the ancient duality, the preserver on one side and the destroyer on the other. I saw the destroyer at first, then I saw the preserver, and now I see both.” She shook her head again. “I don’t envy you having to personify those two contrary roles, but that’s what comes with being the legendary hero.”
“I never volunteered to be a legendary hero!” Geary stood up and began pacing angrily again. “You did this to me, the government, while I drifted around Grendel Star System in survival sleep, making me into every schoolkid’s greatest idol so you’d have something to keep inspiring people to fight.”
“The Alliance government created a myth, John Geary. You’re real, and you have the real power to preserve or destroy the Alliance. If you haven’t fully accepted that yet, do it now.”
He stopped pacing and gave her a sour look. “I’ve never been the type to believe I was sent by the living stars to save the universe, or even just the Alliance.”
Rione raised an eyebrow at him. “That may be the only thing that keeps you from destroying the Alliance. Maybe that’s why you were chosen.”
“Don’t tell me that you’re starting to believe that, too!” Geary made a frustrated gesture. “I get too much of that as it is.”
“I thought you liked it when your special captain gazed at you with those worshipful eyes,” Rione observed.
“No, I don’t, and no, she doesn’t. And why the hell are we talking about Captain Desjani all of a sudden?”
Instead of answering, Rione simply stood up. “I have some other business to attend to. You’re still going to jump the fleet to Branwyn as scheduled?”
“Yes,” Geary snapped, still aggravated with her. “We’ll be at the jump point in four days, barring any more ‘accidents. ’ ”
She was heading for the hatch but paused to look back at him. “I would have tried to stop it if I’d known someone was going to sabotage that shuttle. Yes, I thought Casia and Yin should die because of their actions and because I saw them as a threat to the Alliance, but I wouldn’t have let a number of innocent people be killed.”
He stared at her. “It never occurred to me to think you would have.”
Geary kept looking at the hatch after she had left, realizing that she was right, and wondering why sometimes his allies scared him as much as his enemies.
THE transmission from what had once been the habitable world in Lakota Star System was streaked with interference, the sound portion garbled by static. Geary tapped the control to apply enhancement filters, and the image cleared, the sound now audible, though with occasional odd gaps as attempts by the software to guess which word to use came up blank.
A man stood in the front of the image, behind him a table at which a half dozen other men and women sat. All of them looked as if they’d been wearing the same clothing for days, and as if those days had been arduous ones. They were in some room without visible windows, whose construction and fittings conveyed a feeling of being an underground shelter.
The man spoke with weary desperation, blinking with fatigue. “We are appealing to any ships in this star system to carry news of our disaster to authorities who can provide aid. Lakota Three is undergoing intense storm activity. Estimates are that between ten and twenty percent of the atmosphere is gone. Lakota star’s output may be fluctuating, causing more havoc on this world. Most electrical systems on the planet were destroyed by the energy pulse that struck us. We’re incapable of estimating the number of dead but it surely runs into many millions. We’ve been unable to establish contact with anyone in the hemisphere that faced the energy pulse. The survivors in this hemisphere are in desperate need of food, shelter, and other necessities. Please notify anyone who can help.”
The image stuttered, then the message began repeating.
Geary shut it off, letting out a long, despairing breath. “There’s nothing we can do.”
Desjani nodded gloomily. “We can’t even run shuttles down into that atmosphere right now without risking their loss.”
She shook her head, looking depressed now. “A few marginal indications. But even if they were there, we couldn’t get to them. The planet is going to be a hellhole until the atmosphere stabilizes again.”
Geary tapped his communications controls. “Authorities on Lakota Three, this is Captain John Geary, commanding officer of the Alliance fleet. We deeply regret our inability to offer immediate assistance, but have no capability for disaster relief. We will notify any and all Syndicate Worlds’ entities encountered of your need.” It occurred to him that with so many electronic systems destroyed, the authorities on Lakota Three might have no idea what was going on above the world’s atmosphere. “Be advised that a few Syndicate Worlds’ civilian ships survived the energy pulse and are heading for jump points out of this star system. I have given orders that they not be engaged by my units and have provided them with clear records of the disaster here to assist authorities in other Syndicate Worlds’ star systems in responding to your need. May the living stars provide for you and may your ancestors offer you what comfort they can.”
He ended the transmission, then looked to the communications watch. “Try to punch that through to the origin of the distress message, and set it to repeat until we leave this star system. Also forward that distress message to the Syndic merchant ships heading out of the star system.” With a fleet configured for war, there wasn’t much else he could do. “Captain Desjani, I’m going to hold a small meeting in one hour. I’d like you to be there.”
“Of course, sir,” Desjani acknowledged. “Is there anything I should do to prepare for the meeting?”
ONE hour later, Geary looked around the conference room, where he, Captain Desjani, and Co-President Rione were physically present and Captains Duellos, Cresida, and Tulev were virtually present. To the naked eye, all six figures appeared identical, but the occasional extra couple of seconds’ delay in reactions from the three who were attending via conferencing software betrayed their virtual nature. “I wanted to talk to you because you’ve all been told about our belief that there’s a nonhuman sentient species on the other side of Syndic space.”
“Belief?” Captain Cresida questioned. “From the evidence I’ve seen, it’s a lot stronger than a belief.”
“And there’s more evidence that I haven’t had a chance to share before this.” Geary paused, uncertain how to say it. “You know we were on our way to defeating one of the Syndic flotillas in Lakota when a much larger Syndic force arrived via the hypernet gate. This fleet was almost trapped and destroyed as a result.” Rione knew what he was talking about, but none of the other officers did, and they were all watching him, plainly trying to figure out the connection to the aliens. “Intelligence on Dauntless intercepted a number of signals from the Syndic ships that had arrived via the hypernet gate, messages that clearly revealed that the Syndics were shocked to be in Lakota. They’d entered their hypernet system with a destination of Andvari Star System.”
He let them absorb that for a moment. Cresida, perhaps the fleet’s best expert on the hypernet, responded first. “They made that big a mistake? No, it’s impossible to make that kind of mistake. There’s no way to set one destination on the hypernet and end up in another.”
Geary nodded. “So I was told. No way that we know of.”
Desjani got it first, her face reddening with rage. “They did it. Whatever they are. They changed the destination of those Syndic ships so we’d be confronted by an overwhelming force.”
“That’s the only conclusion that makes sense,” Geary agreed. “They intervened in an attempt to destroy this fleet.”
“Why?” Tulev, not surprisingly, had been the first to look past the outrage of the aliens’ actions and search for a reason.
“Damned if I know. They don’t want us to get home. Is it because they want the Alliance to lose? I don’t think so. If they wanted to help the Syndics defeat us, they could provide the Syndics with more of their technology, but as best we can tell, they secretly gave the hypernet technology to both the Alliance and Syndicate Worlds at about the same time several decades ago.”
“What are they?” Desjani demanded. “What do we know of them?”
This time Geary shrugged. “Shadows and scientific wild-ass guesses. We see signs of them, apparent proof they’re out there and intervening in this war, but nothing about them directly. If they did redirect that Syndic flotilla, it not only means they can mess with a hypernet in ways we don’t understand, it also means they can covertly monitor where this fleet is and where it’s going, and get that information somewhere at something close to real time over interstellar distances.” The others stared at him as the implications of that struck home, but none of them denied his logic.
“The Syndics certainly know more about the aliens,” Rione added to the group. “But that knowledge has apparently been kept very close, and even the existence of the aliens kept secret from most Syndic citizens. Only the Syndicate Worlds’ highest leaders may know everything there is to be known. We’ve found nothing in captured records.”
“Are they human?” Tulev wondered.
“I don’t think so,” Geary answered. “If they were human, why would the Syndics have kept them secret? And how could another human power strong enough to hold the Syndics on a border exist without us knowing something? They would have had to come from somewhere.”
“Not human.” Tulev shook his head. “How do they think? Not like us.”
“Surely we can still figure out their intent,” Desjani insisted.
Duellos was frowning in thought. “My grandmother taught me an ancient riddle when I was quite young. That riddle might help us understand what we’re dealing with.”
Duellos paused dramatically. “Feathers or lead?”
Geary waited, but nothing else came. “That’s it?”
“That’s it. Feathers or lead?”
“What kind of riddle just asks you to chose between two things?” Cresida asked, then shrugged. “I give. What’s the answer?”
“It depends.” Duellos smiled as everyone looked aggravated. “The one asking the riddle is a demon, you see. The demon chooses which answer is right. In order to guess the right answer, you have to know what the demon thinks it should be that particular time.”
“How are you supposed to know what a demon thinks?” As soon as Geary said the words, he got Duellos’s point. “Like the aliens.”
“Exactly. How do we answer a question posed by something that isn’t human, when we have no idea what the question means or what the ones asking it want the answer to be?”
“And what do they expect from us? Honor or lies?” Captain Cresida asked. Everyone turned to look at her. “Who have these aliens been in contact with? The Syndics.”
Rione nodded. “Whose leaders have broken every agreement made with us, even when abiding by those agreements would have been in the long-term interests of the Syndicate Worlds.”
“The Syndic leaders don’t think long-term,” Duellos pointed out. “Short-term gain is all that matters to them.”
Geary shook his head. “Would they have been stupid enough to use those kinds of tactics against an alien species that clearly has technological superiority over the human race?” He saw the answer on every other face in the room. “Yeah. Maybe they would have.” After all, those same leaders had repeatedly broken agreements with this fleet, even knowing that the fleet could easily retaliate by wiping out entire worlds.
“The superior technology would have been irresistible bait for them,” Rione observed bitterly. “They would have been willing to try to acquire it by any possible means, leaving the aliens to conclude that the human race could not be trusted. Anything the aliens have done could have been seen by them as defensive, a means to neutralize humanity.”
“But if the Syndics were dealing with aliens,” Cresida argued, “and unsuccessfully dealing with them apparently because they’ve never surfaced with any technology far in advance of the Alliance except the same hypernet we got, why would they turn around and attack us? We know from the disposition of Syndic hypernet gates on the far border that the Syndics fear the aliens. Why start a war with us?”
“Because they were surrounded?” Duellos offered. “The Alliance on one side and these aliens on the other side. That leaves the Syndicate Worlds pinned between two powers. They must have feared being crushed between us once we learned of the existence of the creatures.”
“Then why start a war with us?” Cresida demanded. “Why make their nightmare come true?”
Geary shook his head. “During peacetime, Alliance ships traveled through Syndicate Worlds’ space. Only occasional warships carrying out diplomatic missions, but more frequent freighters. Alliance citizens also traveled through the Syndicate Worlds on business or pleasure. Any of those might have found clues to the existence of the aliens or been contacted by them directly.”
“Well enough, sir, but starting a war to prevent occasional Alliance traffic through their territory seems like massive overkill. It’s not like the Syndics ever invited much Alliance shipping into their areas of control. They could have choked it off completely using any number of excuses, and what could the Alliance have done? Besides, how could they know the aliens wouldn’t attack them while they were involved in fighting the Alliance?”
Duellos shrugged. “Maybe the Syndic leaders thought they could defeat us quickly.”
“That’s irrational!” Cresida objected. “Even the Syndic leaders couldn’t have been so stupid as to believe they could do that!”
“They thought the Alliance would crack under the first blows,” Desjani cut in. “That we wouldn’t have the spirit to rebound from the initial losses and hit back.”
Which was where the legend of Black Jack Geary began. Fighting to the last against overwhelming odds. A heroic example to inspire everyone else. Geary tried not to notice everyone not looking at him.
Tulev shrugged. “It may have been a useful rallying argument for the Alliance, but that doesn’t mean it wasn’t true,” he suggested with a glance at Desjani, whose eyes had narrowed in response to Rione’s tone. “What other explanation exists?”
“Perhaps they reached some sort of agreement with the aliens,” Rione suggested. “Doubtless planning to go back on it as soon as they’d dealt with us.”
“What kind of agreement?” Geary wondered, his mind going back to a time that was the recent past for him but a century old for the others here. “A nonaggression pact might temporarily secure their border with the aliens, but the Syndics couldn’t have decisively beaten the Alliance. They didn’t have military forces large enough to overcome the sheer size of the Alliance, any more than the Alliance could muster enough force to defeat the expanse of the Syndicate Worlds. We knew that as well as they did. That’s why the surprise attacks, including the one in Grendel, came as such a shock.”
“Maybe there’s the answer,” Desjani declared, her expression shadowed with an emerging idea. “What everyone’s been saying made me think of something.” She tapped some controls and an area of space that Geary found heartbreakingly familiar was displayed above the table. “Alliance space along the frontier with the Syndicate Worlds,” Desjani explained to Rione as if she couldn’t be expected to recognize a display of the area, causing Rione’s expression to harden slightly this time. “I’ve spent some time recently studying the start of the war. This shows the initial Syndic attacks a century ago. Shukra, Thabas, Diomede, Baldur, Grendel. Why did they hit Diomede instead of Varandal? Why Shukra instead of Ulani?”
Geary frowned. He didn’t know this, hadn’t ever known it, because he had been lost in survival sleep since that first Syndic surprise attack at Grendel. In the months after his awakening, he’d avoided studying the early Syndic attacks closely since he still felt the pain of knowing his crew from those days had all died in either that battle or later battles or, if lucky, from old age, while Geary’s survival pod drifted among the other debris of battle at Grendel. “Good question. I just skimmed those events and assumed they must have hit the Alliance base at Varandal.”
“They didn’t,” Duellos confirmed, studying the display. “Varandal was a major base back then as well?”
Desjani nodded. “The primary command, repair, supply, and docking facility for the Alliance fleet in that entire sector of space.”
“That seems a far-more-critical target than some of those that were hit. Does anyone know why they didn’t strike Varandal? ”
Once again Desjani answered. “Our histories all say that it was assumed Varandal, Ulani, and other high-value star systems were intended for a follow-up wave of attacks that didn’t happen because of Syndic losses suffered in the first wave. Assumed,” Desjani emphasized. “It’s obvious they made that assumption because everyone on the Alliance side agreed the Syndics shouldn’t have had any expectation that their first wave of surprise attacks to start this war could have inflicted enough damage on the Alliance to be decisive. The Syndics didn’t have enough forces on hand, as Captain Geary says, to hit everything they needed to hit all at once.”
“What’s your point?” Rione demanded.
Desjani gave her a cold look in return, but her voice stayed professionally calm. “Perhaps the Syndics expected to have more forces than we knew of. Suppose the Syndics had reached an agreement and expected to have help? Suppose they expected an ally, a very powerful ally, to hit places like Varandal while they hit Diomede?”
This time the silence was longer. Rione’s face hardened again, but now her feelings weren’t directed at Desjani. “The aliens double-crossed the Syndics.”
“And then didn’t show up, leaving the Syndics to fight alone. They suckered the Syndic leaders, who thought themselves the masters of cunning behavior, into an unwinnable war with the Alliance. But the Syndic leaders couldn’t admit they’d been fooled on such a huge issue, and they’d enraged the Alliance, and so couldn’t get out of the war they’d started.”
Cresida was nodding now. “The aliens don’t want either side winning. That’s why they intervened at Lakota. Captain Geary was doing too well, inflicting enough losses to, perhaps, eventually decisively tip the balance against the Syndics, and getting closer and closer to getting the Syndic hypernet key back to Alliance space. The aliens want humanity at war, and they want us to remain totally absorbed in this war. But is that purely defensive? Or are they waiting to see how much we can weaken ourselves before they move in?”
“We think that they can wipe us out at any time using the hypernet gates,” Geary noted.
“But they haven’t yet,” Cresida argued. “If they’re watching us as the events here at Lakota seem to prove, they must know from the collapse of the Syndic hypernet gate at Sancere that we’re at least learning about the destructive potential of the gates. If they want to use the gates to wipe us out, why haven’t they triggered them already?”
“Feathers or lead?” Duellos asked, studying his fingernails.
Frustrating as it was, Geary had to admit Duellos had a point. “We can speculate endlessly and not reach conclusions because we don’t know anything about what we’re dealing with.”
“We know they’ve figured out how to trick us,” Desjani insisted. “Sir, look at the pattern. They intervene in hidden ways, and they know how to get us to do things that either hurt or have the potential to hurt ourselves.”
“Good point,” Duellos conceded. “Which means they very likely adopt such tactics among themselves. They seem to favor causing an enemy to make mistakes that result in self-inflicted injury.”
Rione nodded. “By figuring out what that enemy wants, then offering it to them. They must have formidable political skills.”
“And the Syndics tried to mess with them,” Geary noted angrily. “They poked a hornet’s nest with a stick, and all of humanity got stung.”
“Why haven’t the Syndics come clean?” Cresida wondered. “They don’t have any hope of winning this war and haven’t for a long time. Why not say they were tricked by the aliens, claim the aliens told them we were going to attack, whatever. Get us on their side against whatever these things are.”
Rione shook her head. “The Syndicate Worlds’ leaders can’t afford to admit they made that kind of mistake. Heads would roll, possibly in a very literal way. Even though the predecessors of the current Syndic leaders actually made the errors, the current leaders derive their legitimacy by claiming to be the chosen successors of past leaders. And all Syndic leaders are supposedly chosen for their competence and abilities. Admit to horrible errors by one generation of leaders and it calls into question the legitimacy of their chosen successors and the entire system. It is much easier and safer for them to continue on a ruinous course of action than it would be to admit to serious errors and try to change the situation.”
“They’re that stupid?” Cresida asked.
Geary noticed the other officers were trying not to stare at Rione. He knew what was bothering them. Not just the rationale the Syndic leaders were probably using, but also that Rione understood it and could explain it, which meant she could think the same way.
Clearly seeing the same thing, Rione glared around at the others. “I forgot. You’re all so noble and honorable. No senior military officer would ever allow people to die rather than admit a mistake, or cling to a foolish course of action in order to maintain their position.”
This time a lot of faces reddened. Geary spoke before anyone else could. “Point taken. But no one here engages in that kind of thing. And, yes, I include Co-President Rione in that. She came along on this mission, risking her own life along with the sailors of this fleet. Now, let’s redirect our anger at our enemies, not each other.”
“Which enemies?” Duellos wondered. “We’ve spent all of our lives knowing that ‘enemy’ meant the Syndics. They were the ones attacking us, bombarding our worlds, killing our friends and family members. And all that time we had another enemy, one none of us knew about.”
Every eye turned again to Rione, who flushed slightly but gazed back defiantly. “I don’t. As far as I know, no senator knows of the aliens.”
“What about the Governing Council?” Duellos questioned.
“I don’t know.” Rione looked at the others and obviously saw doubt there. “I don’t have any reason to lie,” she snapped. “I know there are extremely sensitive matters of which only members of the Governing Council are apprised. Supposedly some of those matters are passed verbally to new members and never written down, but I don’t know that’s true. Only the members of the Governing Council know, and they don’t discuss their secrets.”
Geary nodded. “I can easily believe that. What would be your guess, though, Madam Senator?” He used the title deliberately, wanting to emphasize for the others the political rank that Rione held. “If you had to make a guess, is there anything you know or have heard about the Governing Council that would lead you to think they might know?”
She frowned, bending her head in thought. “Maybe. It would depend upon how you interpreted things.”
Rione’s frown deepened. “Questions that you’re told to stop asking for Alliance security reasons, private statements regarding plans or budgets, that sort of thing. But there are plenty of other explanations for any of that. Listen, I’m as suspicious as any politician. I parse everything I hear for possible interpretations. If the Governing Council has any clue as to the existence of these aliens, they’ve done a very good job of keeping it quiet. I certainly never suspected it until Captain Geary showed me what he’d figured out.”
“But then we’d all stopped asking that question,” Cresida observed. “Hadn’t we? No nonhuman intelligent species had ever been discovered or contacted us, that we knew of, and the war had us all focused on other matters. Captain Geary had a fresh perspective.”
“More like a fresh-frozen perspective,” Geary replied, and everyone smiled at the reference to his long period in survival sleep. He hadn’t thought that he’d ever be able to joke about that. “Here’s the question: Do we keep them secret? Or do we start telling lots of other people?”
This time the silence stretched, then Rione spoke in a world-weary voice. “We fear that humanity will use the power in the hypernet gates to wipe itself out because of the hatreds generated by this war. If humanity learned that the war had been caused by a trick from another intelligent species, and that the same species had fooled us into planting the means for humanity’s extinction throughout the star systems we control, what would the mass of people do? What would they demand?”
“Revenge,” Tulev answered.
“Yes. War on an even greater scale, against an enemy of unknown strength, unknown size, and with unquestionably superior technology.”
Cresida clenched her fists. “I don’t particularly care how many of those things died. They’ve earned it. But the thought of how many more humans would perish . . .”
“I think my question has been answered,” Geary stated heavily. “We have to keep the secret, too, yet also figure out how to counter these aliens without starting an even bigger war.”
Duellos pursed his lips as he frowned in thought, the fingers of one hand drumming silently on the table near him. “One enemy at a time. That’s what I’d recommend. We have to deal with the Syndics before we can have a hope of dealing with the aliens.”
“But how can we beat the Syndics if the aliens are actively helping them?” Cresida demanded.
Duellos’s frown deepened. “I’ll be damned if I know the answer to that.”
For some reason everyone else turned to look at Geary.
He stared back at them. “What? Do you think I know how to do that?”
To his surprise, Cresida answered. “Sir, you have shown an ability to see things the rest of us take for granted or just haven’t thought about. Perhaps it’s because you’ve got an outside viewpoint in many ways, or perhaps you’re, um, being inspired to see things the rest of us cannot.”
Being inspired? What could that mean? Geary looked around at Cresida and the others, and saw the meaning, from Cresida’s slightly embarrassed expression to Desjani’s calm belief to Rione’s measuring glance. “You believe the living stars are telling me things? I’d think I’d know if that was happening.”
Duellos frowned slightly again. “No, you wouldn’t,” he corrected. “That’s not how they work. Or not how they’re supposed to work.”
“No one knows how they work! Why after all we’ve been through would you think I’m getting divine inspiration?”
Desjani answered. “You keep telling us in private deliberations that you’re just a normal man, not exceptional. But you keep doing exceptional things. Either you are an extraordinary man, or you’re receiving extraordinary assistance, and I’m not vain enough to believe any aid I provide is that special.”
That was a neat little logic trap. “Captain Desjani, all of you, any extraordinary assistance I’m getting is from you.” Every face somehow conveyed disagreement. “You can’t risk the fate of this fleet, of the Alliance, on some vague belief that I’ll receive divine inspiration whenever I need it.”
“We’re not,” Tulev stated. “We’re basing it on what you’ve done so far. Just keep doing it.” A rare smile showed on his face as Tulev signaled that he understood the half-joking/ half-unreasonable nature of his statement.
Just keep doing it. Save the fleet. Win the war. Confront and deal with a nonhuman foe of unknown characteristics and power. Geary couldn’t help laughing. “I’ll try. But no inspiration is coming to me right now. I need all of you to keep doing what you’ve been doing, providing invaluable support, advice, and assistance.”
Cresida shook her head. “I wish I could think of some advice for dealing with the aliens. At least thinking about that will give us something to do while the fleet is in jump space en route to Branwyn.”
Three days later, Geary gave the order to jump, and the Alliance fleet left Lakota Star System for the second and, hopefully, last time.
AFTER the many stresses of recent weeks and the struggles within Lakota Star System, the days spent in jump space on the way to Branwyn proved a welcome though brief period of recovery. Everyone kept working hard to repair battle damage, but they were able to relax a bit emotionally and mentally. Despite the eeriness of jump space, Geary found himself regretting the return to normal space when they reached their destination.
The star-system-status display, loaded with information from captured Syndic star-system directories, updated itself with actual observations as the Alliance fleet’s sensors evaluated the human presence at Branwyn. Surprisingly, the star had more Syndic presence than expected. Most star systems bypassed by the hypernet had declined either slowly or quickly as the space traffic that had once been required to pass through them using the jump drives had instead used the hypernet gates to go directly between any two points on the hypernet.
But here in Branwyn the mining facilities that made up most of the human presence were significantly larger than in the decades-old Syndicate Worlds’ star-system guides the Alliance fleet had captured at Sancere. “Why?” Geary wondered out loud.
Desjani shook her head, apparently baffled as well. “There’s no Syndic military presence here. No picket ships, no force guarding against us. I’ve never seen an occupied Syndic system without at least an internal-security-forces facility.”
Information kept updating on the display, revealing a few cargo ships running to and from one of the other jump points in Branwyn Star System. “Where does the jump point lead?”
He saw the answer even as a watch-stander called it out. “Sortes Star System, sir.”
A robust Syndic presence in a hypernet-bypassed star system, with apparently regular traffic to another nearby star system with a hypernet gate. But there didn’t appear to be anything being mined here that wouldn’t also be present at Sortes. “What the hell?” Geary muttered.
Victoria Rione laughed, drawing his attention. “None of you understand this? Don’t you realize what you’re seeing? This is all unauthorized, a pirate facility if you will, set up by Syndic corporations seeking to bypass central controls and taxation. Everything they pull out of here hasn’t been regulated or taxed, which more than makes up for the extra costs of smuggling the material into hypernet-linked star systems and covering up its origin.”
“How would you know that?” Geary asked.
“Because similar operations spring up in Alliance space from time to time. It’s illicit, but it’s profitable. One of the hobbies of the Alliance Senate is passing laws trying to ensure that no one can get away with it, but people are always looking for and finding loopholes.”
An illicit operation. Geary wondered whether the people of Branwyn would provide aid to the stricken Lakota Star System or simply hunker down to avoid being caught. “Let’s send them the recording of what happened at Lakota and the plea from the habitable planet there. What will happen if the Syndic authorities or their military find out about this place?”
Rione shrugged. “Some of them surely already know. I imagine bribes to the right people keep that knowledge secure. Having us pass through here might draw too much attention to cover up, though.”
He checked the maneuvering display. “It’ll only take four days for us to reach the jump point for Wendig. The auxiliaries are already drawing down the raw materials we looted at Lakota. Do you think we can trust the Syndics here to provide unsabotaged raw materials if we demand them?”
“None,” Geary replied.
WITH the Syndic presence in Branwyn showing every sign of hasty emergency evacuation and no threats toward the Alliance fleet, Geary found himself restless. Unable to sit still and think, he started taking more long walks through the passageways of Dauntless. Battle cruisers were large ships, but not so large that such walks didn’t often encounter Captain Desjani doing her own thinking and maintaining a constant presence among her crew. Ironically, being openly seen with Desjani was a far better defense against rumors of unprofessional conduct than avoiding her would be, because if they weren’t seen walking and talking together, then gossip would assume they were together in places where they couldn’t be seen doing things they didn’t want seen.
Most of the conversation kept to professional topics. The war, ship-handling, the merits of different classes of ships, tactics, logistics, personnel matters, and where the fleet should go next. Not the sort of thing anyone overhearing could possibly construe as social conversations, though Desjani did have a passion for those topics. She truly did love being a fleet officer.
But as time went by Desjani spoke more of her home planet Kosatka and Alliance space in general, of her family, and gradually drew Geary out on the same topics. He found himself bringing up memories that had been too painful to consider, thoughts of people and places now vanished, surprised that he could speak of them with her and feel a sense not only of melancholy but also of release.
That brought up a whirl of more recent painful memories, centered on the Syndic home system. “Yeah,” Geary agreed softly. “My grandniece. Captain Michael Geary’s sister. He gave me a message for her.”
Desjani was looking at her data pad. “Commander Jane Geary? She’s not just on Dreadnaught. She’s the commanding officer.” Then Desjani frowned. “A battleship commanded by a Geary. There’s something odd there, but I never heard any negative stories about her.”
Geary tried not to snort. The modern fleet assigned its best officers to battle cruisers, where they could charge into battle first, and die first. “Maybe she’s being judged by an impossible standard.”
“That of her legendary great-uncle?” Desjani asked, then smiled. “It’s possible.” The smile went away. “And when we get back, you’ll have to tell her that her brother is probably dead. I’m sorry.”
“Yeah. Just about the last thing he said before Repulse was destroyed.” He thought about it, then decided if there was anyone who would comprehend that message who wasn’t a Geary, it might be Desjani. “He told me to tell her that he didn’t hate me anymore.”
She looked briefly shocked, then the expression faded into thoughtfulness. “The impossible standard. Michael Geary hated you for what he’d been forced to live with?”
“That’s what he said.” In the very brief time that Geary had been granted to speak with his grandnephew, there hadn’t been much opportunity to say more.
“But he changed his mind.” Desjani gave Geary a long look. “Because he was using Repulse to hold off the enemy. A last-ditch rearguard action to allow the rest of the fleet to escape, the same sort of action that you became legendary for. He understood then, didn’t he?”
“Yes.” He felt a great sense of relief at being able to share the story. Tanya Desjani got it. Of course she did. “He realized I hadn’t done it because I thought I was a hero or because I wanted glory. I did it because so many others were counting on me. That’s all.”
“And he had to do the same.” She nodded. “It does take a hero, sir.”
“No, it doesn’t.” Geary shrugged, feeling old pain rising to the surface as he thought of the death of his old ship a century ago and more recent sorrow from ships in this fleet that had been lost fighting the same sort of hopeless rearguard actions. “It’s pure chance who ends up in a situation like that.”
“Maybe.” Desjani gave Geary a serious look. “But what someone does when faced with that situation isn’t pure chance, sir. They make choices, as we all do. Those choices define us. I know you don’t like me to say it, but you are a hero, sir. If you were a fraud, people would have seen that by now.”
“Of course you are. That what makes it heroic. Humans fear death and pain, and when we reach beyond that fear to protect others, we have done something to be proud of.”
Startled, Geary walked silently for a moment before replying. “I’d never thought of it that way. You’re pretty good with words, you know. No wonder your uncle wanted you to be part of his literary agency.”
She looked down at the deck and smiled in a slightly wistful way. “My fate lay among the stars, Captain Geary. I think I’ve always felt that way.”
“No. They just always called to me. Strange that I should gaze up at the vast emptiness of space since I was little and believe that the emptiness would hold what really mattered to me, but that’s how it always felt.”
Desjani laughed, something so rare that Geary wasn’t certain if he’d heard it before. “I hope not! I adore Dauntless , but battle cruisers are very demanding queens to their captains. It’s an extremely one-sided relationship, as you know. I was hoping for something a little more balanced.” She was smiling, still, and despite himself, he wondered what such a relationship with Desjani would be like. But he couldn’t, of course, and she couldn’t, of course, so they walked on down the passageway, the conversation safely turning to the latest modifications in hell-lance targeting systems.
When he reached his stateroom he was surprised to find Rione there despite the late hour, standing before the star display as if she’d been studying it for a long time. “Is something wrong?”
“I wouldn’t know,” Rione said. “I’m just your former lover. You’ve been talking to her.”
Geary frowned at Rione. “Captain Desjani, you mean. She’s my flagship captain—”
“And you weren’t just talking about your beloved fleet,” Rione finished, but she didn’t sound angry this time, just defeated.
“There won’t be anything between us, Victoria. You know why there can’t be anything between Tanya Desjani and me.”
Rione kept her face averted for a while, then looked back at Geary, her expression unreadable. “There’s already something between you. Nothing physical. No. No improper actions of any kind. I freely admit that. Neither of you would do that. But there’s an emotional bond, feelings that go far beyond professional, and you know that’s true, John Geary.” She exhaled slowly, looking away again. “I won’t be any man’s second choice.”
He wondered what to say. “I didn’t think—”
“No. You didn’t. Not that I ever encouraged you to think I’d be interested in anything more than the physical relationship we’ve sometimes enjoyed. But a strong woman needs a strong man, and I’ve found myself wanting more from you than sex. But I can’t have that. Admit it. You don’t love me. You lust for my body, but you do not and cannot love me.”
“I can’t honestly say I love you,” Geary admitted. “But I wouldn’t lust after you if I didn’t admire who you were.”
Rione directed a pained smile to a corner of the stateroom. “That’s just what every woman wants. To be lusted after and admired.”
“True. I broke the bargain. In part. Don’t flatter yourself that I’m madly in love with you. But I will not be your second choice,” she repeated. “I have my pride.” Walking to the hatch, Rione paused before opening it and looked back at him. “Once I leave here, change your security settings so that I no longer have free access.”
Geary nodded. “If that’s what you want.”
“What I want scarcely matters anymore. But you must know that I mean what I say. I will not be back here except as an adviser.”
“Thank you. Your advice has been more valuable than I think you ever realize.”
She twisted her mouth, then shook her head. “The Alliance needs this fleet, and it needs you. I will remain your ally and confidant as long as you remain true to your beliefs and the Alliance. But I will not come to your bed again, and I ask you not to come to mine, because I know that while you were making love to my body you’d be thinking of her, and that I will not endure.”
He sat for a long time after the hatch closed, realizing the truth of Victoria Rione’s words. The one woman he could have in this fleet wasn’t the woman he wanted, and Rione had every right to refuse to accept any lesser place with him.
Getting up, he went to the hatch controls and reset them to eliminate Rione’s free access to his stateroom. Somehow the finality of that gesture served to make it certain that this time Rione would not be returning except for talks about the fleet’s situation. He couldn’t help feeling both guilty and relieved.
EIGHT
TWO days in Branwyn, two days left until they reached the jump point. The Syndics here continued pulling up stakes as fast as they could. There hadn’t been any acknowledgment of the messages the Alliance fleet had sent about the situation at Lakota, so Geary could only hope that the people in the system would react somehow to help provide relief. “And what do your spies tell you these days?” Geary asked, slumping into his seat.
The virtual image of Captain Duellos looked offended as it lounged in a seat. “Politicians have spies, but I have sources, my good Captain Geary.”
“My apologies.”
“Accepted. I don’t honestly have that much, but I thought you could use a talk.”
“You thought right. Thanks. So what do we talk about?”
“Pressure.” Duellos waved toward the star display. “If we make it through Cavalos, this fleet will be within five or six jumps of a Syndic border star system from which we can jump into Alliance space. The casual thinker might assume you’re feeling relieved at how close we are to home. I’m inclined to think you’re increasingly waiting for the sword to fall.”
Geary nodded. “Good guess. Every step closer to home makes me wonder if I’m being set up for a disaster at the last moment. I make it six jumps past Cavalos, by the way, since we have to avoid Syndic star systems with hypernet gates.”
“True.” Duellos eyed the depiction of the stars. “The Syndics have to be increasingly desperate. They’ll be pulling in everything they’ve got left to stop you.”
“To stop us.”
“Correct, although it’s natural to personalize something as impersonal as a fleet.”
“I suppose that’s true.” Geary made a face as he looked at the display. “Having the Syndics concentrating their remaining warships against us should create some real opportunities for the Alliance warships that were left behind when this fleet headed for the Syndic home system. At the very least they’d be able to send reinforcements to meet us in whatever Syndic border system we aim for. But there’s no way to tell our people back in Alliance space what’s happening or where we are.”
“Too bad the aliens won’t tell them, but I suppose we’ll have to be grateful if they don’t tell the Syndics where we are.”
“Yeah.” Geary pressed his palms against his eyes, feeling a headache threatening. “Let’s talk about something else.”
Duellos seemed to be thinking. “Do we want to discuss personal matters?”
“Yours or mine?” Geary asked dryly.
“Yours.”
“I was afraid of that. What now?”
Duellos frowned slightly, looking downward. “You and Tanya Desjani.”
“No. We’re still not involved with each other, and we won’t be.”
“The fleet is increasingly certain that you are. Everyone knows that Co-President Rione has ceased spending nights in your stateroom and that she and Captain Desjani remain on barely civil terms with each other.” Duellos shrugged.
“The assumption is that the better woman won, the fleet naturally accepting that Tanya Desjani is better than any politician.”
Geary gave an exasperated sigh. “She’s a wonderful woman. But she’s also my subordinate. You know the regulations as well as I do, and as well as she does.”
“You could get away with it, you know,” Duellos suggested. “You’re a special case. You’re Black Jack Geary.”
“The almost mythical hero who can do anything he wants. Right. I can’t afford to believe that about myself.” Geary stood up and began pacing restlessly despite his sense of weariness. “If I break that regulation, why not others? Where along that path do I find myself accepting the offer of Captain Badaya to become dictator because I can? Besides,” he added, “Tanya wouldn’t do it. She won’t do it herself, and she wouldn’t let me do it.”
“You’re probably right,” Duellos agreed. “But you’ll have to work at not getting that longing look in your eyes when you say her name.”
Geary pivoted to stare at Duellos. “I hope you’re joking. Do I really?”
“Enough for me to notice, but don’t worry. It only seems to happen when you say ‘Tanya.’ Just saying ‘Captain Desjani’ you appear thoroughly professional.” Duellos grimaced. “And it’s not as if she doesn’t get the same look sometimes when watching you.”
She did? “I swear we’ve done nothing—”
Duellos held up one hand in a forestalling gesture. “You don’t need to. I never doubted it. Jaylen Cresida and I know Desjani well enough to tell that she feels not only anguished but also guilt-stricken over her feelings for you. To become emotionally involved with her commanding officer goes against all she once believed in.” Duellos shrugged. “Now, of course, she believes in you.”
Feeling his own share of anguish and guilt, Geary rubbed his face with both hands. “I should leave Dauntless. I don’t have any right to put her through that.”
“Leaving Dauntless wouldn’t accomplish anything. As Captain Cresida remarked to me, ‘Once Tanya locks on to a target, she doesn’t let it go. She can’t.’ And Jaylen is right. You can’t leave Tanya’s focus just by leaving this ship, and not being able to sight her target might just increase her distress. Besides which, frankly, the crew of Dauntless has taken quite a pride in having you aboard. I’d advise against leaving her.”
Geary nodded in response, then wondered whether Duellos’s last “her” referred to Tanya Desjani or Dauntless. “But if the fleet thinks there’s something going on between us—”
“They don’t. Not that way. Despite a sustained whispering campaign claiming otherwise, most of the fleet believes you two are thoroughly involved yet remaining professional with each other and at properly chaste arm’s length.”
“Even that is wrong,” Geary insisted, dropping back into his chair.
“True, by a strict reading of the regulation, but there’s a certain romantic aura to the love that cannot be fulfilled, and I believe the fact that you two are abiding by the rules despite your feelings is actually enhancing your standing. It’s like one of those ancient sagas.” Duellos smiled as Geary gave him a sour look. “You asked, and I’m telling you.”
“Don’t a lot of those ancient sagas end tragically?”
Another shrug from Duellos. “Most of them, anyway. But this is your saga. You’re still writing it.”
For some reason that made Geary laugh briefly. “I need to have a long talk with myself about the plot, then.”
“Sagas wouldn’t be interesting if terrible things didn’t happen to the people in them,” Duellos pointed out.
“I never wanted my life to be interesting, and I sure as hell don’t have any right to make Desjani’s life interesting that way.”
“She’s writing her own story. You can command Tanya Desjani on the bridge, but she doesn’t strike me as the sort to let someone else, anyone else, dictate how her personal saga goes.”
He couldn’t argue that point. “It’s all speculation, anyway. Let’s get back to nonpersonal matters,” Geary grumbled. “I hope people aren’t giving Tan—Captain Desjani a hard time about this.”
“She’s fully capable of returning fire if they do. I have to admit to being surprised at your apparent preference for dangerous women, but then they seem to prefer you as well.”
Unable to come up with a decent response to that observation, Geary changed the subject. “I didn’t know that you and Cresida were friends.”
Duellos shrugged. “We weren’t. We barely knew each other. But since you’ve assumed command, we’ve had reason for many talks. She’s quite impressive. I’m not sure if she has the temperament for a larger, independent command, but Jaylen Cresida is a brilliant scientist. One wonders what she might have done in peaceful pursuits if not for this war.” He looked thoughtful. “My wife and I have some friends back home we’ll have to contrive to introduce her to. They and she could do much worse.”
“That’s easy to believe.” He’d avoided looking into his ship captains’ personal-data files, but it was long past time he learned more about them as individuals. “So, getting away from my non-love life and your desire to fix up Captain Cresida . . .”
Duellos grinned momentarily and leaned back himself, thinking again and quickly looking unhappy. “I can’t find out what Captain Numos is up to. Surely he hasn’t finally accepted being under arrest. But any messages he’s sending out to supporters are now being kept so closely that not even the rumor of them is reaching anyone willing to pass that on to me.”
“What about Captain Faresa? Did anything trace back to her before Majestic was destroyed?”
“Nothing that I could find. Faresa always followed Numos’s lead in any case. Captain Falco made occasional clumsy attempts to send out orders, but even if he were still alive, he couldn’t serve as a figurehead now.” Duellos frowned deeply this time. “Your enemies need someone to rally around, some officer respected enough to appear an alternative to you. I haven’t been able to find out who that is, and it worries me.”
“Surely we can make guesses,” Geary noted, glad that the talk had veered firmly away from his personal life.
“I’m not so sure. The figurehead who replaces you has to appeal at least a little to those who believe in you. That means someone who isn’t known as an opponent of yours and someone who’s at least a decent commanding officer.”
Geary mentally ran through the officers he knew. “Some-one we likely trust, then?”
“Not Tulev or Cresida, certainly. Not Armus, though we don’t trust him. But he’s a blunt instrument, speaking and doing things forthrightly. He couldn’t carry off the deception. Badaya has been increasingly vocal, but his loyalties are locked on you as long as he believes you will seize power when this fleet returns to Alliance space.”
“That leaves a lot of possible candidates.”
“It does,” Duellos agreed. “I’m working it. Hopefully we’ll learn something that will help.”
“Thanks. I’ll ask Co-President Rione to see what her spies can find out.” Duellos made another face. “You don’t trust her?” Geary asked.
“That’s not it. I trust her to do what’s best for the Alliance. But I’m worried about what she might decide is best for the Alliance.”
It was a legitimate concern. Geary nodded, then a memory struck him. “What about Caligo on Brilliant and Kila on Inspire?”
Duellos pondered the question for a moment. “What brought them to your mind, if I might ask?”
“The recent realization that I’d hardly noticed either of them even though they’re both battle-cruiser captains. Kila finally spoke up at the last conference.”
“That’s the way Caligo is,” Duellos explained. “He and I have never talked much. He mostly sits and watches. He likes to stay in the background.” Duellos’s thoughtful expression shaded into a frown. “Interesting, given the sort of officer we think is working against you.”
Geary couldn’t help thinking the same thing. “But what’s he like?”
“I haven’t heard bad things about him, or all that many good things for that matter,” Duellos observed. “He does his job and doesn’t make waves, yet he’s impressed people enough to earn command of a battle cruiser.”
Under other circumstances, that would have sounded like the sort of officer Geary liked to have working for him. Now it left him wondering, and feeling angry with himself for worrying about the loyalty and intent of a fellow officer based on such nebulous information. “What about Kila?”
“Kila. She’s been unusually quiet, now that you mention it.” Duellos looked slightly embarrassed. “I’m a bit biased. She and I were involved as ensigns. It didn’t really last past our training. Once we went our separate ways, she made it clear that we had separated in more ways than one.”
“Ouch,” Geary said sympathetically.
“I was eventually very grateful,” Duellos responded. “Sandra Kila is ambitious and aggressive. Smart, too.”
“She sounds a bit like Cresida.”
“Ummmm, more like Cresida’s evil twin. Kila tends to impress superiors but isn’t well liked by her peers or subordinates because her aggressiveness shades too easily into ruthlessness, even in matters of competition for assignments or ranking in evaluations.”
It didn’t fit. Geary shook his head. “That doesn’t sound like someone who’d just sit quiet and remain essentially unknown to her fleet commander. She won’t earn good marks that way. Why isn’t she in the forefront of argument and debate? Why hasn’t she tried to suck up to me? The points she brought up at the last conference weren’t pressed hard and seemed aimed at pressuring me, not supporting me in a way that would impress me.”
“Perhaps she has a larger goal in mind.” Duellos let that sink in, then spoke pensively. “But too many officers don’t like her because of personal experience or her reputation. If she were an animal, Kila would be known as one of those which eats its young.”
Geary raised an eyebrow at Duellos. “Did you say you were a bit biased?”
“Just a bit,” Duellos admitted. “But my opinions are far from unique. Kila would never be accepted as acting fleet commander, and she’s smart enough to know that.”
“Why would an officer that ambitious suddenly recognize a ceiling above her? I’ve known officers like that. They want to reach the top. They don’t aim to get so high and no higher, but don’t realize that their tactics often eventually get them tarred so that they can’t rise any further in the ranks.”
“Yes, but . . .” Duellos made an annoyed gesture. “This isn’t the fleet you knew. If Kila could continue impressing superiors, she could hope to be promoted to command despite the wishes of those serving under her. Diplomatic skills are far more important for anyone aspiring to the highest levels of command.”
“Don’t you mean political skills?” Geary asked sarcastically.
“There’s no need to be insulting.” Duellos sat silent for a moment, then nodded. “As much as we refuse to confront the issue, you’re right. Admiral Bloch was a much better politician than he was an officer, and that served him well enough for promotion and eventual command of the fleet. It didn’t serve the fleet or the Alliance nearly so well, of course. Maybe we’ve been increasingly hostile to people like Co-President Rione because we look at them and see a mirror of what we’ve become.”
“Rione’s not that bad,” Geary objected almost automatically. Duellos just gazed back at him. After a long pause, Geary nodded in turn. “Maybe she is sometimes. But she’s on our side.”
“Let’s hope she stays there.”
Time to change the subject again. “Do you have any idea whether or not Caligo or Kila is among those supporting Badaya’s bid to make me a dictator?”
Duellos thought for a while. “I would have said Caligo was, but can’t recall a single thing that makes me think so. Kila . . . well, I don’t think Kila would be happy at accepting any other officer as a dictator. It’s less a matter of her support for the elected government and more a question of her own ego. I’ll see what I can find out. You sound worried, if I may say so.”
Geary blew out a long breath. “I suspect the accident that killed Casia and Yin wasn’t an accident. Either one might have chosen to name other officers, but the shuttle explosion eliminated that possibility.” Duellos’s face froze for a moment, then he slowly nodded. “And if the people who oppose me, who want someone else in command of this fleet or someone else as dictator, were willing to do that, then they might do worse next time.”
“I’ll see what I can find out. You have more friends and supporters in this fleet than ever. Perhaps one of them can tell us something.”
“Something tells me that it’s my enemies we need to start telling us things,” Geary replied.
THEY were nine hours from the jump for Wendig and in the middle of Dauntless’s night cycle when the pinging of a message alert woke Geary. He hit the acknowledgment button, then frowned as he saw that the message was from Commander Gaes on the heavy cruiser Lorica. Why would she be sending him a high-priority message under maximum security lock?
There wasn’t any video, just Commander Gaes’s voice, sounding strained. “Drive fleet jump in worms systems.” The message cut off, leaving Geary frowning a lot more heavily. What the hell had that meant? The sentence sounded scrambled, as if the words had been mixed up.
Which they would be if someone was trying to confuse software monitoring fleet transmissions and scanning for word combinations. Nothing should be able to spy on messages under high-security lock, but Geary now had a lot less faith in the protection rendered by security systems than he’d had a few months before.
Which words obviously went together? Jump and drive. Jump-drive systems. Fleet jump-drive systems. In. Worms.
The phrases suddenly strung together properly. “Worms in fleet jump-drive systems.”
He rolled out of bed, pulled on his uniform, and called Desjani. “Captain, I need to see you and your systems-security officer as soon as possible.”
Less than ten minutes later, Desjani was at the hatch to his stateroom, accompanied by a tall, lean lieutenant commander whose eyes seemed permanently focused in front of his face rather than on the outside world.
Geary ensured the hatch was sealed and his stateroom’s security systems were active, then repeated the message he’d received.
Desjani sucked in her breath. “Who sent you this, sir?”
“I’d rather not say. Can you confirm whether or not it’s true?”
“On Dauntless? Yes, sir,” Desjani promised, turning to her systems-security officer. “How long?”
The lieutenant commander’s mouth twisted as his eyes studied a virtual display only he could see. “Give me half an hour, Captain. We’re assuming the worm is malware?”
“Until we learn otherwise, yes.”
Twenty minutes later, Desjani was back in Geary’s stateroom along with the lieutenant commander, who now looked very upset. “Yes, sir. It was there. Very well hidden.”
“What would it have done?” Geary asked.
“When we jumped, it would have initiated a series of destructive system failures.” The lieutenant commander’s face seemed paler than before in the low nighttime lighting of Geary’s stateroom. “Dauntless never would have come out of jump.”
Geary wondered how pale he himself looked. “How did someone manage to plant something like that?”
“They had to know our security systems backward and forward, sir. Whoever they are, they’re very good, too. It’s a sweet design for something created to cause that much damage. ”
Geary glanced at Desjani, who looked ready to break out enough rope to hang every person she even suspected of imperiling her ship that way. But the message had said the fleet’s systems were infected. Had every ship been sabotaged for destruction, or was this aimed at him alone? He could get a better idea of the threat by checking on the ships of officers known as his closest allies. “Captain Desjani, I want you and your systems-security officer to notify the commanding officers of Courageous, Leviathan, and Furious under maximum-security seal. Tell them what was hidden inside Dauntless’s jump-drive system and ask them to examine their own jump systems immediately and tell me whatever they find as soon as they find it.”
“Yes, sir.” Desjani’s salute was as rapid and sharp as the swing of a sword blade, then she left quickly with the lieutenant commander.
Half an hour later, Geary was in the fleet briefing room, looking at the angry and determined faces of not just Captain Desjani, but also Captains Duellos, Tulev, and Cresida, who were there in the virtual conference mode. Tulev, seeming unusually rattled, spoke first. “A worm. Yes. When Leviathan tried to make our next jump, the worm would have instead taken the jump system off-line.”
Duellos nodded in confirmation. “Courageous as well. We couldn’t find any destructive component, just a worm designed to disable the jump drives for a while.”
Cresida spoke uncommonly quietly, as if trying to maintain extra control. “Furious had malware similar to that on Dauntless. We would have jumped and never come out.”
Desjani’s face reddened. “Then whoever was behind this wanted at least Dauntless and Furious destroyed, and at least some of the rest of the fleet left behind.”
“Those seeking to end Captain Geary’s command have decided to declare war on their comrades in the Alliance fleet,” Duellos observed, his harsh tone at odds with the measured words. “This isn’t just politics. It’s sabotage. It’s treason. Furious must have been targeted because Captain Cresida is known as a strong supporter of Captain Geary.”
“Then why not you and Tulev as well?” Desjani asked.
“An interesting question, and one to which I have no certain answer. I can guess that Captain Cresida is more impulsive than I and Tulev, and those responsible for this might have feared that she would take aggressive action against anyone trying to assume command if she even suspected they had been responsible for the loss of Dauntless.”
“And they would have been right! We need to make an example of them!” Cresida added, one hand flexing as she already had a pistol in it.
“We will when we find them,” Geary promised.
“Arrest alone won’t be sufficient,” Cresida insisted. “This is far worse than what Casia and Yin did. It’s possible to argue that the actions of Falco or Numos were meant in good faith, but there can’t be more than a handful of people in this entire fleet who would accept the idea of deliberately trying to destroy at least two of our own battle cruisers. Especially that way, trapped in jump space forever.”
Geary nodded, feeling his own guts tighten again at the idea. “If we positively identify those responsible, I will have them shot.” That was a big if, yet Geary found himself surprised by how calm he felt this time while promising summary executions of fellow members of the fleet. But as Cresida said, this was the sort of stab in the back that would horrify most of the personnel in the fleet. Captain Casia had let down his comrades, but he hadn’t tried to kill them. “How do we find the ones responsible?”
Everyone sat silent, looking angry or distressed.
The room security system chimed, announcing someone who wanted to enter. Geary checked. “Co-President Rione is here. Did anyone tell her?” The other officers all shook their heads. Desjani seemed ready to say something, then subsided. “Are there any objections to letting her in here and telling her about this? If none of us have good ideas for nailing our saboteurs, maybe she will.” Once again Desjani appeared on the verge of speaking, but finally shook her head again along with the others.
Geary told the hatch to allow Rione’s entrance, then watched as she came in, swept the small group with her eyes, and sat down in an empty seat. “What’s happened?” Rione asked quietly, even as her eyes focused on Geary with another unstated question—and why wasn’t I told and made part of this group?
No one else spoke, so Geary filled Rione in, watching as the news hit her. Rione’s eyes widened only slightly, but her skin also flushed a bit. Geary wondered if the others, not nearly as used to judging Rione’s reactions, would even notice those things or if they would believe that Rione hadn’t responded at all to the information.
When he was done, Rione inhaled deeply and closed her eyes. “Tell everyone.”
“What?” The incredulous question popped out of Cresida but could have come from any of the officers present.
Rione’s eyes flew open, and she looked at each captain in turn. “I know the military mind-set. This is a secret so far, you think secrets must be kept secret, and you believe the best way to keep a secret, to keep people from trying to find out more, is for no one to know the secret exists. That’s not what you want here.”
“You want us to tip off the people who did this that we know they did it?” Cresida demanded.
“They’re going to find out anyway in eight hours when this fleet’s next jump is scheduled! Either you delay the jump without explanation, which will tip them off and create problems with everyone else, or you deal with that malware in every ship so you can make the jump safely.” Rione looked around at the others. “Tell everyone what was done. In politics and in the military we keep secrets because we don’t want people digging for more information. In this case we need more information. Once people know or suspect wrongdoing, many eyes and minds focus on the issue of learning more, of finding out who’s involved.”
Her expression hardened. “Tell everyone. You’ll have thousands of sailors and officers trying to find out anything they can, and racking their memories for anything they might have seen or heard that could have been related to this. They’ll be searching for more sabotage, and for all we know, there’s more out there. Our enemies in this fleet have made a serious error by doing something that will arouse outrage in nearly everyone and alert everyone to the threat they pose.”
Duellos frowned. “What if our enemies in this fleet claim that what we’re saying isn’t real, that we somehow set this up ourselves?”
“The longer you try to hide it, the more people might suspect that.” Rione slammed a palm onto the surface of the table. “Tell them now! Let your initial reactions show, your own shock and horror and outrage. Do exactly what you’d do if the Syndics had planted these worms.”
Tulev nodded. “Send out a high-priority alert to all ships. Order a full system scrub to ensure that there’s nothing else lurking inside any of our automated systems.”
“And,” Rione added, “bring up the loss of the shuttle in Lakota. The rare accident which killed two officers who might have named coconspirators. Few now will question that the fate of the shuttle wasn’t the work of the same ones who tried to destroy entire warships.”
One by one, Duellos, Cresida, and Desjani nodded in agreement as well. Geary turned to Desjani. “Please have your systems-security officer draft an alert, along with what we know of the worms. Dauntless and Furious may not be the only ships in the fleet with a worm designed to cause the loss of the ship. Run it by me when it’s ready, and we’ll get it out at highest priority.”
“Yes, sir.”
“The rest of you, thank you for your inputs and for keeping this quiet until we decided what to do. See if you can discover any leads on your ships to who did this and how they did it.”
The shapes of the other officers winked out as they broke the software connection, leaving only Rione, Desjani, and Geary present. Rione stood up, her eyes focused only on Geary, as if no one else were there. “I can help you if you let me.” Then she left almost as quickly as those whose virtual presences had simply vanished.
Geary frowned at Desjani, who very uncharacteristically hadn’t leaped up to carry out her orders as fast as possible. “What?”
Desjani hesitated, then spoke in low tones, looking toward another part of the room. “My systems-security officer found something else.”
“Another worm?” Geary asked, wondering why Desjani hadn’t brought this up earlier.
“No. Unauthorized modifications to security settings.” Desjani took a deep breath. “The hatch to my stateroom. The security settings had been recently modified to allow free access for Co-President Victoria Rione.”
Geary just stared for a moment, trying to grasp the implications. “Why would she do that? She can’t get in my stateroom anymore—”
“Can’t she?”
He hesitated, then called up a remote readout. “My settings have been recently changed, too. To allow Victoria Rione free access again.” He remembered Rione’s comments, admissions that she would kill Geary if necessary to protect the Alliance. But why now? “She did it? She caused those modifications?”
“We can’t prove that,” Desjani admitted reluctantly. “But why would anyone else do it?”
“Why would she want to get access to your stateroom?”
Desjani bit her lip, her face reddening with what might be anger or embarrassment, or maybe a mix of those, then spoke with forced calm. “We both know that she sees me as a rival.”
“Surely you don’t believe that she’d—”
“I have no idea what actions Co-President Rione is capable of, sir.”
What could he say to that? When Rione had frankly told him that she was willing to kill for the right reasons? But those had been very big reasons, having to do with the fate of the Alliance, and if she still intended such a thing, why had she demanded he change his security settings to deny her access? Geary thought hard, trying to separate out his feelings from everything he had seen of Rione, everything he had learned about her in both public and private. “I know she suffered that meltdown at one point, but I find it very hard to believe that Co-President Rione would plot your murder as a romantic rival. She was willing to walk away from me, Tanya.”
“How kind of her,” Desjani muttered, her face definitely showing anger now.
If only there was a way to know for certain. And Geary realized there was such a way. “I’m going to see if she’s willing to be asked about this matter while in one of the interrogation rooms.”
Desjani looked startled. “You intend ordering a senior civilian elected official of the Alliance to submit to interrogation by military-intelligence personnel?”
“No, I intend asking her to do so.” He stood up, feeling something sour in the back of his throat. “If she’s truly crazy enough to plot murder, that request should send her clawing for my throat. But if she agrees, it can clear her.” Desjani looked troubled and disapproving as she stood as well. “I don’t believe that she’s a danger to me.” Not right now, anyway. “Or to this fleet.”
“With all due respect, sir, you can’t afford to let misplaced loyalty or lingering personal feelings get in the way of a detached assessment of the danger any individual might pose to you or this fleet.”
He felt a little angry himself now, but then he didn’t really have any right to since he had let himself get involved with Rione. “My loyalty to Rione as an individual doesn’t come close to being as strong as my duty to this fleet and the Alliance. And there are no lingering personal feelings.” Desjani somehow conveyed disagreement without saying or doing anything. “Give me some credit for being able to make that kind of judgment.”
“Yes, sir.”
“I’m going to follow up on this. I’m not discounting your information or your assessment.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Dammit, Tanya—”
“Yes, sir. It’s your decision.”
He considered possible responses, most of which would be unfair or unprofessional or simply unwise. “Thank you.”
“Then I will carry out my own orders, sir. I’ll have the message you requested ready as soon as possible, sir.”
He wanted to yell at her, but she was being perfectly professional and proper. “Thank you,” Geary repeated, letting his aggravation show. As Desjani left, her back either at attention or just stiff, Geary spent a moment contemplating the unfairness of having to deal with relationship problems with a woman he couldn’t have a relationship with.
VICTORIA Rione didn’t go for his throat, but she did seem to be thinking about doing that. “Do you have any idea what you’re asking?” He hadn’t heard her voice that icy for a long time. “Do you actually believe that I would imperil this fleet by having anything to do with the worms you found?”
“Why do you have unrestricted access to Captain Desjani’s stateroom?” Geary asked bluntly. “The settings were altered recently, without Captain Desjani’s knowledge.”
“I have no idea!” Rione seemed on the verge of shouting with anger. “Perhaps she—”
“My stateroom security settings were also altered to allow you free access again.”
Rione choked off her next words and stared at him. “Damning. Definitely damning. Do you think I’d be stupid enough to do something that so obviously pointed to me, Captain Geary?”
“No,” he replied. “I’ve been thinking about it, and if you could’ve changed those settings, you could have also made up some false identity and allowed it access. You’re too smart to have generated such clear evidence of guilt against yourself. But I want it undeniably known that you’re not involved.”
She gazed back at him for a while before answering. “Because the other fleet officers would be willing to believe the worst of me. A politician.”
“I fear so. That’s why this was done, I’m sure. To discredit you, as a political representative of the Alliance, and to deny me your counsel.”
Rione finally relaxed slightly, running her hands through her hair. “Very good. I have taught you a few things. Do you really want the intelligence personnel involved in this, though?”
“Yes. I need them to certify to others that you told the truth, and I need them to help us deal with these problems. Traitors and aliens. Both groups have stepped up their attacks on this fleet, and that means we need to ensure that some other people know what we’re dealing with.”
Rione spent a moment thinking, then nodded and began walking toward the intelligence area as Geary called ahead to alert the personnel.
When they reached the high-security hatch at the entry to the intelligence area, Lieutenant Iger was waiting, his uniform showing signs of hasty dressing and his expression worried at this very-early-morning summoning. As Geary and Rione walked up to him, Captain Desjani and the systems-security lieutenant commander came hastening from the other direction, Desjani offering Geary a data pad, her face as emotionless as Rione’s.
He read the alert quickly, then added a further order: All indications are that this sabotage was carried out by someone within this fleet. All personnel with any knowledge of the matter should contact the flagship as soon as possible. It is critical that those responsible for attempting the destruction of at least two of our own ships and the deaths of their crews be found before they try to commit further treason against the Alliance and their comrades in this fleet.
Desjani read the addition and nodded her approval wordlessly. Geary hesitated, then offered it to Lieutenant Iger to read. The intelligence officer skimmed the message quickly, his face reflecting shock as he took it in. Then Geary tapped the approve button and the message went out. Within moments, the commanding officers of every other ship in the fleet would be getting roused from sleep with very unwelcome news. Geary couldn’t help wondering how many of them would secretly be distressed not by the sabotage but by its discovery. “Thank you, Captain Desjani.”
“Yes, sir.” Desjani’s eyes swept over Rione, then settled back on Geary. “Is there anything else, sir?”
Yes. Stop being so damned cold and formal. “We’ll have a fleet conference in a few hours.”
“Yes, sir.” She saluted rigidly and left with her systems-security officer.
Geary turned back to Rione and gave her a momentary glare, seeing the amusement Rione couldn’t quite hide as she watched Desjani’s still-stiff-backed departure. “Lieutenant Iger, we need an interrogation room.”
Iger’s lingering shock changed to surprise. “You already have a suspect, sir?”
“We have someone who will likely be identified as a suspect, Lieutenant. I don’t think she’s actually involved, but evidence was planted implicating her so she’s agreed to answer any questions in a controlled interrogation environment. ”
Lieutenant Iger nodded, his puzzlement still there, then his eyes shifted to Rione and widened in renewed shock. “M-madam Co-President?”
“Let’s get it over with,” Rione ordered.
Looking very much out of his depth, Iger led them into the intelligence spaces, past more high-security hatches and the enlisted intelligence personnel standing watch at this hour, who eyed the unusual procession with ill-concealed concern. A chief petty officer came up to Iger to see if he needed help and was waved off.
Iger sealed the hatch leading to the interrogation room behind them, then looked nervously at Rione. “Madam Co-President, if you would please enter that hatch and seat yourself in the red chair.”
Rione nodded haughtily and stalked off, while Iger directed Geary into the neighboring observation room. One wall acted like a one-way mirror, giving them an unobstructed view of Rione as she sat down and stared ahead rigidly at what to her was a blank wall. Iger tapped controls, activating the devices that would not only monitor Rione’s external physical signs but also conduct remote brain scans and other measures to provide clear evidence if the person in the interrogation room was lying or telling the truth.
Iger turned to Geary. “Sir, uh, who . . . ?”
“I’ll ask.”
The lieutenant tapped another control and nodded to Geary.
Geary composed himself, then spoke clearly, knowing his words were being repeated inside the interrogation room.
“Co-President Victoria Rione, did you have any prior knowledge of the worms found within the jump systems of Dauntless and other Alliance fleet ships?”
“No.” The single word was as hard and direct as a grapeshot volley.
Readouts before Geary glowed green.
“Do you have any knowledge of any malware on Alliance fleet ships?”
“Now I do,” Rione replied coldly.
Geary winced. He’d have to phrase his questions better. “Did you have any knowledge of any kind regarding the modifications to the security settings on either my or Captain Desjani’s staterooms prior to my telling you?”
“No.”
“Did you have anything at all to do with those modifications? ”
“No.”
“Have you taken any actions which might harm any ship in the Alliance fleet?”
“No.”
“Do you know of anyone else who is taking or planning such actions?”
“Not for certain. I only suspect certain individuals of being involved.”
Geary paused, trying to think of other questions, then glanced at Lieutenant Iger. Iger nodded, licked his lips nervously, then spoke with the emotionless calm of a trained interrogator. “Co-President Rione, would you notify proper authorities if you had any suspicion of any harmful actions directed toward the Alliance or any ship or person in this fleet who is carrying out their duties toward the Alliance?”
“Yes, I would.”
“Would you harm or allow to come to harm this ship?”
“No.”
“Would you harm or allow to come to harm anyone on this ship?”
“That would depend upon whether or not I had good reason to believe they were acting against the Alliance.”
Every indicator still glowed green. Iger tapped a control again, then spoke to Geary. “Sir, all indications show truthfulness in every answer. She’s, uh, not happy, but in her own mind she’s being truthful, and her answers are short and direct.”
Geary took a long look at the readouts. All confirmed Iger’s words, though “not happy” was a nice way of saying that the readouts indicated high levels of anger. He wondered how much of that anger was directed at him, how much at Desjani, and how much at the enemy. I’ve got Rione in the one place where I could know what her every answer meant. Just how much did you get emotionally involved with me? How do you feel now? Would you justify trying to harm Tanya Desjani by thinking of her as a danger? But he couldn’t ask those questions. Even if Lieutenant Iger weren’t here, asking them would break the implicit bargain under which Rione had agreed to enter an interrogation room. “Thank you, Lieutenant. Let’s get Madam Co-President out of there. There’ll be a fleet commanding officers conference in a few hours. I want you present.”
“Yes, sir.” Lieutenant Iger seemed baffled this time. Such conferences had become political meetings over the course of the last century, backroom gatherings where deals could be cut and senior officers jockey for support from more junior commanding officers. Lesser beings were excluded so they couldn’t be aware of the political maneuverings their seniors were debating.
“You looked at the things I asked you to examine? On the far side of Syndic space?”
“Yes, sir.” Iger’s expression shifted to worry again. “Who are they? Who’s on the other side of Syndic space, sir?”
“No idea, Lieutenant. The most-senior Syndic leaders know. Do you agree with me that whoever or whatever they are, they’ve intervened actively against this fleet?”
“Yes, sir,” Iger repeated. “They must have been responsible for diverting that big Syndic flotilla to Lakota. But why?”
“We don’t know, can’t know, for certain. The best guess is that they want humanity tied down in this war, and they were afraid we’d get the Syndic hypernet key home and gain a decisive advantage. But that’s still just a guess.” Iger nodded unhappily. “We won’t discuss that at the conference, and I don’t want you informing anyone else. But I need you thinking about it, and about anything you might see or have seen within intelligence channels that might provide more information about the threat.”
“I understand, sir.”
After Rione joined them, Lieutenant Iger led her and Geary back out into the passageway, where the dim night-cycle illumination and lack of other traffic came as a slightly jarring reminder that the official day was still a few hours away from starting.
Rione waited until they were alone, then spoke in a voice so soft Geary could barely hear. “Who framed me?”
“If we knew that, we’d know who planted those worms.”
“Not necessarily. It could be a totally separate action. I know what you were thinking. I’m not the only woman on this ship capable of acting out of jealousy.”
It took him a moment to realize what Rione meant. “Captain Desjani would not act that way.”
“I’m glad you’re so confident of that.”
Geary glared at Rione. “Tanya Desjani is a very direct person. If she wanted to hurt you, she’d hunt you down and beat you up. She’d confront you face-to-face. You’ve been on this ship long enough to know that.”
Rione glared back for a moment, then dropped her gaze. “Yes. She’s not the sort to stab someone in the back.”
“I’ve really got enough problems right now without you two sniping at each other.”
“Are you going to tell her that?”
Geary realized for the first time that Rione had long since stopped referring to Tanya Desjani by her name. “I did, and I will. I need both of you.”
Rione raised her eyes to Geary’s, her expression sardonic. “You need both of us? Tonight, perhaps? I’m shocked.”
“You know what I mean.”
“I know what you think you mean.” Rione shrugged. “My loyalty is to the Alliance, Captain Geary. I’ll do what’s necessary to support that. Right now, that means supporting you to the best of my ability. Neither you nor she need fear me unless you start acting against the Alliance. You know I’m telling the truth.”
He did, Geary realized, since a slight variation on that statement had registered as true in the interrogation room. “Thank you. I know this isn’t easy.”
“You’d better be referring to the fleet’s situation.”
He eyed her, wondering if he should admit he was also talking about personal issues.
Her eyes blazed as she stared back. “Don’t you dare pity me. I left you.” Rione spun on one heel and walked quickly away.
THE atmosphere inside the conference room was different this time. The tension wasn’t from politics or worry about the Syndics. It was focused inward, with every virtual commanding officer’s presence eyeing those around it as if hoping to see clear signs of who had tried to sabotage the fleet. But eyes also kept going to Lieutenant Iger, who was looking uncomfortably out of place, and to Victoria Rione, who sat so silent and expressionless that she might have been carved from stone.
Geary stood up, and all eyes went to him. “You all know the reason for this conference. I’ve received reports from all of your ships and confirmed that every single one had been sabotaged by the placing of a malware worm in the jump-drive systems. The great majority of those worms would have simply kept your ships from jumping the next time it was ordered and kept your systems off-line for some time while it was neutralized. Three ships, the battle cruisers Dauntless, Furious, and Illustrious, had worms which would have allowed the ships to jump but then stranded them in jump space forever.” He paused to let that sink in.
“Someone intended removing me from command of this fleet by destroying a warship of the Alliance and her crew. Someone attempted also to destroy Furious and Illustrious.” Geary glanced at Captain Badaya, whose face was rigid with anger. “Whoever did it knew the daily changing security access codes for the system filters and had access to the means to transfer the malware to every ship in the fleet. That means it had to be the work of individuals wearing the uniform of the Alliance. This is not dissent, this is not debate or professional differences or the act of someone loyal to the Alliance. It’s the act of traitors. The act of cowards. Has anyone found any information that might help identify them?”
He ran his eyes over the long, long virtual table, meeting the gaze of each commanding officer in turn. He almost lingered on Commander Gaes but remembered in time not to. She’d been a critically important informant this time, and he couldn’t afford to risk compromising her. Lorica had been one of the ships that followed Captain Falco, and apparently whoever was continuing to conspire against Geary thought Gaes was still mutinous enough to be part of the plot. Either that or Gaes had managed to maintain enough contacts among the plotters to discover what they were doing.
Captain Caligo and Captain Kila didn’t betray anything other than the same feelings shown by others.
It was impossible to tell if any of the faces reflected guilt rather than anger or fear. Geary gestured toward Iger. “Lieutenant Iger is the senior intelligence officer on Dauntless. He has some information regarding Co-President Rione.”
The commanding officers of the ships of the Callas Republic and the Rift Federation gaped at Rione, their expressions shocked, but she unbent enough to give them a reassuring look.
Lieutenant Iger spoke in his briefing voice. “I was made aware of unauthorized security software modifications aboard Dauntless that implicated Co-President Rione.”
“Why is she sitting here?” Captain Armus of Colossus demanded. “She should be—”
“Let Lieutenant Iger finish,” Geary broke in, his voice like ice.
Iger continued as if totally unaware of any interruption. “Co-President Rione volunteered to be questioned inside a Class Six interrogation cell. She was asked a series of questions to determine if she had actually been involved in those or any other software modifications, and registered as absolutely truthful in her denials of any knowledge or involvement. ”
Silence reigned for a moment, then Warspite’s commander spoke up. “Class Six? Is there any way to deceive or mislead a Class Six?”
“Specialized training can suggest ways to avoid answering questions in deceptive ways, sir, but I and my personnel have been trained to identify when someone is using those techniques,” Lieutenant Iger replied. “We might not be able to pin someone down into saying what we want, but we can tell if they’re evading the real question so they don’t register as deceptive. Co-President Rione did not employ such methods. Her answers were direct and unambiguous.”
“So, what does that mean? Someone tried to frame Senator Rione?”
“That would be my conclusion, yes, sir.”
“That’s treason, too.” Warspite’s commanding officer leaned back, shaking his head in disbelief.
Geary leaned forward slightly and spoke louder than he usually did. “I’ve known ever since assuming command of this fleet that some officers did not approve of my command, that some have spread rumors about me, that some have tried to generate opposition to me. But this is not just politics over who commands this fleet. Someone tried to destroy three major warships. The ships your friends and comrades are serving on, the ships that have fought beside you. I don’t care how much any of you might have been involved in speaking against me in the past, nor at this point do I care about past actions. This isn’t about me. Whoever did this was striking at the fleet as well, and at ships I wasn’t present on. If any of you have been rendering support in either passive or active form to the people behind this, please rethink your allegiances. I promise in front of all of you that anyone who comes forth with information regarding this treasonous sabotage will not be subjected to disciplinary action as long as they were not actively part of the creation and planting of these worms or were not aware of their content and intended use.”
Silence again, but then he hadn’t really expected anyone to leap up, point a dramatic accusing finger, and cry, “Captain X did it!” That would have been a nice outcome in a work of fiction, but things just didn’t resolve themselves so neatly in the real world.
Captain Badaya spoke for the first time. “Someone willing to kill Alliance personnel and destroy Alliance ships. We lost a shuttle before we left Lakota to a supposed accident. ” He glared around the table. “A very rare sort of accident, but believable in the absence of evidence of wrongdoing. Captain Casia and Commander Yin died on that shuttle, and I now suspect they died because of fear that they would identify some of those with whom they were working against Captain Geary. Anyone involved in this should consider that whoever is leading the effort is willing permanently to silence possible weak links. If you have to be caught, I’m certain that the fleet commander will have you shot. If you remain silent, you run the risk of being silenced forever by your coconspirators. The only chance you have is to reveal yourselves.” Badaya subsided, his angry gaze traveling around the table.
“Why would anyone do this?” Intrepid’s commanding officer asked. “Everyone knows some people have been unhappy with Captain Geary being in command. I had my own doubts. But he’s proven himself. Most of the doubters, myself included, are now very pleased to be led by him.”
Captain Duellos answered. “You may have stated the reason for this. Those responsible can no longer hope to convince this fleet’s ship captains to oust Captain Geary from command. Their only chance of success is to eliminate Captain Geary.”
“But anyone even suspected of murdering him and the crews of three other warships—!”
“Consider what would have happened if these worms hadn’t been found. Dauntless, Furious, and Illustrious would have disappeared into jump as if their drives had worked normally. The rest of us would have found the worms preventing our jump drives from working, and jumped as well once our systems were back online. This would have taken a few hours at least. We would have assumed that for some reason the worms found in our systems didn’t work on the three ships that jumped as scheduled. When we arrived at Wendig, the other three ships wouldn’t be there awaiting us as we’d expected. No trace of them would ever be found, no evidence that their jump drives had been infected with a very different worm from that in the rest of the ships.”
Commander Neeson nodded, his face like granite. “No evidence of the deliberate destruction of three warships. Very neat. Most of us would be grief-stricken by the disappearance of the three ships and Captain Geary, but we’d have to choose a new fleet commander. I wonder who would have stepped up to fill that job?”
“What about Numos?” Captain Armus asked.
Geary shook his head. “In light of the seriousness of the attempted sabotage against this fleet, I’ve ordered that Captain Numos be interrogated for any knowledge of whoever is behind this. I suspect, however, that he won’t be able to tell us anything.”
“Why not?” Badaya asked.
“Because Orion didn’t have the same worm as Dauntless , Furious, and Illustrious. Numos wouldn’t have a prayer of being accepted as fleet commander, but if Numos did know who was behind the loss of those three ships, he’d be able to blackmail those individuals. They would’ve tried to get rid of him.”
Rione gave Geary a surprised look, then nodded to him with a trace of a satisfied smile, like a teacher whose pupil has revealed unexpected attention to lessons.
“Numos tried to leave Captain Falco to swing,” Warspite ’s captain agreed. “You think he’s not actually connected to whoever planted the worms?”
“I think those people might have been willing to use Numos, ” Geary explained, “but that they wouldn’t have trusted him.” He gave another look down the virtual length of the table. “Every ship is making additional scrubs of its systems to ensure that there’s nothing else dangerous hidden among them. When we have a clean bill of health reported for all ships, we’ll jump to Wendig. Before we jump, I strongly urge anyone who knows anything to inform me or someone else in authority whom they trust. Our enemies are the Syndics. Not each other. Some individuals in this fleet have forgotten that, and now they’re on the side of the Syndics.”
Captain Badaya nodded firmly. “Anything Captain Geary chooses to do will have the backing of this fleet.”
A flicker of unhappiness crossed Duellos’s face, but he said nothing.
For his part, Geary knew he couldn’t afford to offend Badaya’s powerful faction right now, not when he had another internal danger to this fleet to worry about. “May our actions remain those which our ancestors will look upon with favor,” Geary stated carefully. “As we approach the time for jump to Wendig, I’ll inform all ships whether the jump will take place as scheduled.”
Images of commanding officers vanished in a flurry, Lieutenant Iger gratefully hastening out of the room, with Co-President Rione following haughtily. Captain Desjani, her eyes on Rione’s back, went out as well.
One unexpected figure remained. Geary checked the identification. Lieutenant Commander Moltri, commanding officer of the destroyer Taru. “Yes, Commander?” Geary asked.
Moltri swallowed, then averted his eyes as he spoke. “Sir, I think I know how the worms were propagated through the fleet and were able to bypass security.”
“Were you involved in that?” Geary kept his voice calm with some effort. Moltri seemed not only frightened but also extremely embarrassed, which didn’t make sense.
Lieutenant Commander Moltri shook his head very quickly. “No, sir. Not . . . not knowingly.” He closed his eyes, visibly nerved himself, then focused on Geary and spoke steadily. “There are . . . certain programs that get passed around to those . . . interested in them. Because of their nature, they have to be passed through means that avoid fleet security checks. There’s a whole subnet within the fleet that handles those programs covertly.”
Pulling out his data pad, Moltri tapped a few commands, his face grim and his hand shaking. “I’ve sent a sample to you, sir. Your security personnel will be able to use it to identify the means by which it was being passed. I swear, sir, that I had no idea that someone might use the same means to propagate a dangerous worm, but I think that’s what must have happened.”
“Thank you, Commander Moltri,” Geary stated. “I’ll take a look at it. You may have done this fleet a great service.”
Moltri gritted his teeth in what seemed to be pain. “Please don’t reveal my connection to the content of what I sent you, sir. I’m not proud of it. Not at all. I’ve never really hurt anyone. I swear.”
“I understand.”
“I know there’ll be some disciplinary action, sir. Please, don’t let the full reason be part of the record.”
Geary, increasingly disturbed by Moltri’s distress and statements, spoke evenly. “If it’s not germane, it won’t be. Thank you, Commander.”
Moltri’s image vanished as if the man were fleeing. Geary checked his message queue and found what Moltri had just sent him. He called up the program in it, then stared, his stomach roiling, at the images displayed. No wonder Moltri and the others interested in this kind of thing had distributed it by undercover means. Hastily shutting off the program, Geary called Captain Desjani and her systems-security officer.
Desjani hadn’t gotten far and was back quickly, but it took the security officer a few minutes to get there. Geary offered his data unit. “Take a look.”
The security officer seemed first outraged, then both sickened and resigned. “They keep finding new ways to spread this stuff, sir. May I forward it to my address?” Geary nodded. “I’ll be able to use this message to locate and monitor the subnet it was originally sent on,” the security officer advised.
“Will you be able to tell if that’s how the worms were spread?”
“We’re unlikely to be able to prove it, sir, if this subnet is typical of what I’ve seen before, but I’d lay bets that this is what was used. This subnet would have been set up to access every ship in the fleet.”
Geary’s reaction surely showed. “There’s someone on every ship in the fleet who likes this kind of thing?”
“No, sir,” the security officer corrected hastily. “Subnets that handle this sort of material are designed not to leave fingerprints when stuff is uploaded or downloaded. It automatically spreads to every communication node on the net, meaning every ship. Anyone on any ship who knew about it could get to it, but it’d be almost impossible to identify anyone who actually had done it or even what ship they were on.”
The implications of that were clear enough. “So the odds that we’ll be able to figure out who put the worm into this subnet are pretty dismal.”
The security officer made a helpless gesture. “ ‘Dismal’ is probably an optimistic term in a case like this, sir. We can monitor this subnet now that we have its characteristics identified, and that means it can’t be used for that again.”
“Monitor it? Shut it down. Are we sure there aren’t other covert subnets active?” Desjani demanded.
This time the security officer appeared surprised by the question. “We know there are, Captain. The net linking the fleet is riddled with unofficial subnets, handling anything that’s not authorized officially, like gambling.”
“Why haven’t they been shut down?” Desjani pressed.
“Because my people are responsible for security, not law enforcement, Captain. As long as we know where the subnets are, we can monitor them and know what people are doing on them. If we shut one down, it’ll eventually reappear and have to be found again, and until we find it, we can’t know what’s going on in it. Like this one. If we’d known about it, we’d have picked up the worm when it was introduced into the subnet, so whoever used this particular subnet probably did it for that reason.” The lieutenant commander held up Geary’s data unit. “But you told me to shut this one down, so I will. The people who like this will have to set up a replacement, and that takes time.”
Geary pondered the moral difference between allowing material like that to be spread through the fleet so worse misuse could be tracked and shutting it down at the risk that the replacement would be used for sabotage as well. “How much time?”
“For a replacement subnet, sir? Under current conditions?” The security officer’s eyes went distant. “Half a day.”
“Half a day?” Geary exchanged an aggravated look with Desjani. The choice didn’t really exist, given the nature of the threat to the fleet posed by another worm like that. “Keep it up and make sure it’s monitored.”
Captain Desjani gestured to her security officer. “Get on it. But give me that first.” The security officer hesitated, looking to Geary, who also hesitated, then waved a quick, reluctant assent.
“This one?” Desjani opened the file on Geary’s data unit, staring dispassionately for a few seconds, then clicked it off. “Is what it shows real?”
The security officer shook his head. “Usually not. Producing this stuff is bad enough, but if they used real people, the producers would find themselves facing eternity in prison. They use very realistic computer-generated images.”
“But it looks real,” Geary stated, feeling unclean for having viewed it.
“Yes, sir. That’s, uh, the point.”
“Thanks. Take care of it.” He shivered when the security officer had left.
Desjani looked as if she’d swallowed something vile. “I know why you agreed to leave the subnet up, but I also know how you must feel about that. Where’d you get that download? ”
“From someone I never would have guessed would like that kind of thing, judging by appearances.”
“Whoever it is needs a full psych workup.”
“Yeah.” Geary drummed his fingers on the table surface. “Can I order a psych workup confidentially?”
She nodded. “Yes, though I don’t know why you’d want to protect whoever this is. Just possessing that is a serious violation of regulations.”
“Because that person was willing to let me know this about himself so I could protect the fleet,” Geary explained.
Desjani made a face. “That can’t have been easy. I won’t ask who it was.”
“Had you ever seen something like that before?”
She shook her head this time. “I’d heard about it, but never seen it.”
“Me, neither.” Geary rubbed his face with both hands. “Excuse me, Tanya. I need to call the fleet psychs and a fleet officer, then I need to take a shower. Let me know what your security officer finds out.”
“Yes, sir.” Desjani paused at the door and turned back to face him. “I wish to apologize for not trusting your assessment of Co-President Rione, sir.”
“That’s all right, Captain Desjani. It never hurts to have someone keeping me honest. And at least you’ll say her name.”
“Excuse me, sir?”
“Nothing. Please let me know when the rescrub of Dauntless’s systems is completed.”
Three hours later, every system in the fleet triple-scanned and certified as malware-free by security officers who knew their lives might well depend on not missing anything, Geary ordered the fleet to jump for Wendig. Despite a tight feeling in his gut as Dauntless entered jump space, nothing went wrong.
NINE
IT wasn’t hard at all to figure out why Wendig hadn’t gotten a Syndic hypernet gate, nor why Syndic records indicated the star system had been abandoned once the Syndic hypernet had been constructed. The only puzzle was why anyone had actually remained in the system. Only three worlds orbited the star, along with a mess of asteroids. Two of the planets were in distant orbit, frozen balls of rock orbiting more than five light-hours from the feeble warmth of the dim red star. The world nine light-minutes from the weak star had too little atmosphere, and what it did have was poisonous to humans, but it had once boasted at least two covered cities. Taking another look at the data, Geary decided that even at their biggest, “town” had been a better description than “city” for both of them.
Absolutely no other trace of humanity remained in the Wendig Star System. Now one of those towns was dark and cold, but the other was still inhabited even though many portions of it seemed inactive. “They, or their parents, might have been abandoned here when the Syndic corporations employing them pulled out of the system,” Desjani remarked.
“Yeah. I can’t see any other reason they might have stayed.”
“Captain?” The communications watch-stander gestured toward his display. “There’s a distress signal being broadcast. It’s from the inhabited world.”
That brought up unpleasant memories of Lakota. Desjani frowned as she and Geary both punched their own displays to bring up the signal.
It was audio only, a voice speaking with labored calm. “Anyone passing through or near Wendig Star System, this is the town of Alpha on the world Wendig One.” The corporate minds of the Syndic leaders hadn’t tended to grant poetic names to worlds or towns, Geary reflected for maybe the hundredth time, unless the names had been created for advertising purposes. “Our remaining life-support systems are at risk of imminent failure,” the message continued. “We’ve cannibalized everything left on this world to keep them working, but all resources are now exhausted. There are over five hundred and sixty remaining inhabitants who require emergency assistance and evacuation. Please respond. ” A pause, then a universal time and date register, then the message began repeating.
Geary checked the date on the message again. “They’ve been sending this for a month.”
“Anyone near Wendig?” Desjani asked. “They must know that no one would be closer than the nearest inhabited star systems, and this message will take years to get to those. Even then, it’s too weak to be heard across interstellar distances. Unless an astronomical researcher scanning that frequency band picks it up, it’ll go unheard, and researchers avoid bands used for human communication systems because they’re so full of noise.”
“Maybe these people have been sending rescue requests for years, then, which have gone unheard. Are they still alive?” Geary wondered.
Another watch-stander answered. “That city isn’t at a comfortable temperature for humans, but it’s still got some heat, and the atmosphere inside reads out as breathable. Their air-generation and recirc systems must be in bad shape, though, from the amount of contaminants we’re seeing on spectral analysis.”
Geary looked over at Desjani, who was grimacing. She noticed his regard and shrugged uncomfortably. “It’s not a nice way to die, sir. Even for Syndics.”
“Five hundred and sixty. Families, surely. Adults and kids.” Geary had the automated billeting assistant on his fleet database run the figures. “We could hold them.”
“Hold them?” Desjani stared at him.
“Yeah. Like you said, it’s an ugly way to die, slowly freezing and feeling the air get worse and worse. We could take them somewhere else.”
“But—” Desjani stopped and spoke slowly. “Sir, it’s the smallest drop in the bucket. Yes, it’s . . . tragic. Even though they’re Syndics. But that many people die in this war every second. At this very moment there’s a good chance that an Alliance world is being bombarded by Syndic warships, and thousands of our civilians are dying.”
Geary nodded to show he knew the truth of her words. And yet . . . “What was the Third Truth?”
She looked back at him for a long moment before answering. “Only those who show mercy can expect to receive it. It’s been a very long time since I heard the Truths recited. ”
“I guess we used to do that more often a century ago.” Geary looked down, gathering his arguments. “I know what’s been done. I know what Syndic ships may be doing at this moment. But how can we just sail by and let those people die? Anything we could have done at Lakota would have been insignificant against the scale of the tragedy. Here we can make a difference.”
“Sir, any delay could be fatal. We don’t know what kind of Syndic force might be in pursuit of us, or what forces are moving to block us in other star systems. Going to that world will cost at least an extra day in this star system. Maneuvering to pick them up will cost fuel-cell reserves we can’t afford to burn. Not a lot, but some. They’ll eat our rations while aboard our ships, and we’re already short on food, too. On board they’ll have to be guarded constantly to ensure that they don’t commit sabotage. And then we’ll have to find a way to drop them off in the next star system without costing too much time and fuel-cell reserves, possibly while dodging an enemy flotilla.” Desjani laid out each point in turn, then spoke firmly. “Sir, the cost of this gesture could well be more than we can afford.”
“I understand.” And he truly did. What would be the morality of hazarding the many thousands of personnel in this fleet, and the fate of the Alliance itself, in the name of saving a few hundred enemy civilians? It wasn’t like he didn’t have other things to worry about, like whoever had placed the worm in the fleet’s jump drives, and might take advantage of any focus on these Syndics to commit more sabotage. He’d hoped that once the fleet returned to normal space someone who had searched their conscience during the transit to Wendig would have contacted him with important information, but no such informant had appeared. Nor had Rione’s or Duellos’s sources within the fleet discovered anything new. But was that a critical factor in deciding whether or not to help these people? “Co-President Rione, what is your opinion?”
Rione took a while to answer. “I can’t dispute the arguments laid out against offering assistance,” she finally replied in an unemotional voice. “But you want to do it anyway, don’t you, Captain Geary?” Geary nodded. “Then my advice would be to follow your instincts. Every time you’ve done so, you’ve been right.”
Desjani turned enough to glare at Rione, then her expression changed as she thought. “Co-President Rione is right, sir. About your instincts. You are guided in ways we are not.”
Geary managed not to groan. Guided. By the living stars themselves. Or so Desjani and a large portion of the fleet believed.
“But, sir,” Desjani continued, “it’s still a very large risk. My advice has not changed. Besides, it’s very likely that another Syndic pursuit force will come through this system after us. They’ll hear the distress message, too.”
He nodded, grateful at the realization that a humane alternative existed. Then another insight hit. “Would a Syndic force in pursuit of us divert to assist those civilians?”
Desjani’s lips compressed into a thin line, then she shook her head. “Probably not, sir. Almost certainly not. Their commander would be sent to the labor camps for wasting time.”
Give Desjani full credit. She didn’t want to divert to help those people, for a long list of good reasons, but she’d given him an honest assessment even though it hurt her case. He thought about the people on Wendig One. It was entirely possible that some of them, even adults, had never seen any ship in their star system. Why would any ship come here once the hypernet had been constructed? Now, with their means of life failing, they would look up and see this fleet and watch it pass by and leave. Then they’d maybe see a Syndic flotilla and watch it pass by and leave. Then there’d be no more ships. While the air got colder and harder to breathe. While the elderly and the youngest children died one by one, the strongest citizens clinging despairingly to each other as death came slowly for them each in turn, until Wendig Star System was as devoid of human life as it had been for uncounted millennia before the first starships came here.
Geary drew in a deep breath. The vision he’d seen of the dying colony had been so real, as if he were there. Where had it come from?
Maybe he was being guided. He knew what his heart said, and he knew what everything he’d been taught said. Measured against that was the cruel reality of war and the necessities of command. But there wasn’t a Syndic flotilla right on this fleet’s tail, no imminent threat to measure against those innocent lives.
Everyone was watching him, waiting. Only he could decide. And that knowledge tipped the balance, because he had a responsibility to make hard decisions, and going onward and leaving the colony to its fate didn’t require a decision, just the absence of one until the option became too hard to carry out. “I feel,” Geary began, “that we have a duty to help those people. That this is a test of us, one we must pass to prove we still believe in the things that made the Alliance great. We will pass that test.”
It felt like all those on Dauntless’s bridge had been holding their breath and now let them out all at once. Geary looked to Desjani, dreading to see a look of disapproval there. He knew how Desjani felt about Syndics. And now Geary wanted to risk her ship to rescue some of them.
But Desjani didn’t seem angry. She was watching him as if trying to see something not apparent to the naked eye. “Yes, sir,” she said. “We will pass that test.”
THE video message feed from Wendig One was broken by static, another ugly reminder of what they had left behind at Lakota. “I can’t trace it to interference. It’s probably because their equipment is patched together,” the communications watch explained.
A man looked out, his expression baffled. “Alliance warships, we are in receipt of your message. We’re incredibly grateful for your assistance. Is the war over? How do you come to be this deep in Syndicate Worlds’ space?”
Geary checked and saw that the fleet was still almost two light-hours from Wendig One. Not the best circumstances for a conversation. Extremely annoying circumstances for a conversation, really, when his reply would take two hours to reach the Syndic and the Syndic’s next answer another two hours to reach Geary. “This is the Alliance fleet commander. We won’t deceive you. The war is not over. This fleet is on a combat mission, on its way back to Alliance space. But we do not war on civilians or children. We will divert from our course through this system far enough to be able to send shuttles down to evacuate your people. There must be no delays. You have my word on the honor of my ancestors that you will be treated properly while aboard Alliance ships and dropped off safely in the next inhabited Syndicate Worlds’ star system we reach. Provide an accurate count of people involved, broken down by families so we can ensure that no families are separated during the transit. We’ve identified the landing pad on the northwest side of your town as the best location for our shuttles to land. There’s some drifting sand covering part of it that needs to be swept clear by your people if possible. Everyone must be standing by at the nearest access to that landing pad when our shuttles arrive. No weapons of any kind are to be brought, nor anything that could be used as a weapon. Personal luggage must be limited to ten kilos per person. Are there any questions?”
Geary leaned back and closed his eyes. If there were any questions, he wouldn’t hear them for at least four hours.
Less than two hours later Captain Desjani took a message, then got up from her command seat and stepped close to speak to Geary, activating his sound-deadening field. “My systems-security officer reports that the subnet we were told about before leaving Branwyn was used again to try to plant a worm. The worm was identified and blocked, but all attempts to ID the originator have failed.”
“Messing with our system jump drives again?”
“No, sir.” Desjani tilted her head toward the star-system display. “It would have infiltrated the combat systems of two warships and caused the targeting and launch of kinetic bombardment munitions aimed at the town occupied by the Syndic civilians. A systems-security alert has been sent to all warships in the fleet to scrub their combat systems for any worm that might have gotten through by other means.”
That took his breath away for a moment. “So our saboteurs are willing to kill helpless Syndics as well as unsuspecting Alliance comrades. Which ships?”
“The munitions would have been launched from Courageous and Furious, sir.”
“Ships commanded by two of my strongest supporters in the fleet.” Geary felt a slow burn of anger. His fleet and shuttles never could have reached the Syndic survivors before those munitions struck. “Someone has a sick sense of vengeance and a very ugly willingness to do anything.”
Desjani’s expression showed she agreed with him. “In half an hour they’ll know the worm was blocked. That’s when the munitions were supposed to launch.”
“Thank you, Captain. I have a couple of people to talk to.” Geary left the bridge and waited until he was in his stateroom, with all security features active, before calling Rione and filling her in. “I don’t know if anyone will react when the worm doesn’t work, but you might have your sources watching.”
Rione, her face pale, nodded.
Geary passed the same information to Captain Duellos, then waited, wondering what he’d do if somehow another worm hadn’t been blocked or detected, if some of his ships did launch bombardment munitions against that dying Syndic colony. Nothing happened, though, and no one called. He hadn’t really expected anyone suddenly to rage in disappointment when the set time passed, but apparently not even subtle signs of frustration had been spotted in anyone. The only thing he could be certain of was that whoever had planted the worms would now be aware that their chosen subnet path had been compromised.
That and whoever had tried to destroy three Alliance warships earlier was now also opposed to Geary’s aiding these Syndics. At least that helped reassure him that he was indeed doing the right thing.
After all of that a reply finally came from the Syndic colony.
The Syndic he’d seen before was now anxious. Geary couldn’t help thinking how much more nervous the Syndic would be if he’d known how close his town had come to being turned into a large crater. “Sir, my people are very worried. Please don’t take this wrong, but many don’t trust the Alliance. Unless things have changed a great deal since our last news from outside, and it has been decades, there has been very little consideration for civilians in this war. I’m trying to convince them to trust you, because I can’t think of any reason why you’d bother to kill us aboard your ships rather than just letting us die here. No reason except . . . the women . . . the girls . . . all the children. I’m sorry, but you must understand what we fear. What can I tell them, sir?”
Geary pondered his reply. This man clearly wanted and needed to be convinced himself if he was to argue effectively with his own people. “Tell your people that Captain John Geary commands this fleet by the grace of his ancestors, and that he will never dishonor those ancestors by harming the helpless or breaking his word. I tell you again that I give you my personal word of honor that you will not be harmed as long as you do not attempt to harm these ships. Any person in this fleet who tries to assault any one of you will be dealt with under the wartime provisions of the fleet code of justice. I could have lied to you about the war, about this fleet’s mission. I didn’t. Your people have no military value whatsoever. But they are people. We won’t let them die if we can save them. Please provide the information we need as soon as possible.”
The next half day passed with a normalcy that felt almost surreal. Geary authorized the release of information about the latest worm despite fears that it might garner support for the saboteurs from officers who opposed his decision to aid the Syndics, but instead there was another wave of revulsion at the idea of hijacking ships’ combat systems. Humans had never fully lost their mistrust of automated combat systems, so anyone messing with their software to cause weapons systems to act on their own ended up on the wrong side of the fence as far as just about everyone was concerned.
Shuttles soared between warships, bringing new fuel cells and expendable munitions, replacement parts and anything else the auxiliaries had manufactured to meet the needs of the fleet during the period since leaving Lakota. Geary was pleased to see his fleet’s average fuel-cell reserves climb back up to 65 percent. Not great by a long shot, but better than it had been. Commander Savos was brought to Orion as her new commanding officer, fully aware of the challenge he faced there. Maybe he could turn Orion around as Commander Suram had done with Warrior.
The next reply from the Syndics didn’t come until the Alliance fleet was less than a single light-hour from Wendig One and about ten hours at its current velocity from reaching the planet. “We will trust you because we have no choice. Some of our people are using the few working survival suits we have left to try to sweep clear the landing pad you indicated. All of us will be standing by when your shuttles arrive.”
Desjani listened to the message with a resigned look.
Rione’s expression masked her thoughts. Everyone else Geary could see seemed puzzled, trying to figure out why he was doing this. In a way, that was very depressing. But none of them were objecting anymore, and that was at least hopeful.
The shuttles launched as the fleet approached Wendig, the Alliance warships braking their velocity to allow time for the shuttles to reach the surface, load, and rejoin. Geary monitored the action from the bridge of Dauntless. Every shuttle had a detachment of Marines in full battle armor aboard just in case. He hadn’t been thrilled by that since it meant reducing the passenger capacity of the shuttles and requiring using more of them, but Colonel Carabali had been insistent, and he’d recognized the wisdom of her strongly worded suggestions.
“All birds down,” the operations watch-stander reported.
On his display, Geary could see an overhead image of the grounded shuttles, the Marines spilling out to stand sentry and screen the passengers, evacuation tubes being run to the air lock on the civilian town. He toggled briefly to the video feed from one of the Marines. The outside of the Syndic town already looked long abandoned, drifts of toxic snow and sand piled up against its walls, broken and cannibalized equipment littering the lifeless landscape. Geary couldn’t help shivering at the cold, empty image of desolation. “Can you imagine being trapped in a place like that?” he asked Desjani.
She viewed the feed, frowning, but said nothing.
“Loading complete,” Colonel Carabali reported. This was a landing expedition and therefore a Marine operation, she had insisted. “Evac tubes being withdrawn into shuttles. Shuttle liftoff estimated in zero three minutes.”
“Any problems, Colonel?” Geary asked.
“Not yet, sir.” Confronted with well over five hundred Syndics, Carabali obviously believed it was only a matter of time before problems arose.
“Birds in the air on schedule,” the operations watch-stander reported. “Rendezvous with warships projected on time in twenty-five minutes.”
Desjani tapped her own controls. “Colonel Carabali, please confirm all Syndics were searched for weapons and destructive materials.”
Carabali sounded slightly insulted at having a fleet officer ask if Marines had done their jobs. “Absolutely. Full scans. They’re clean. They don’t have much.”
Geary and Desjani went down to the shuttle dock to see the Syndic civilians destined for Dauntless arrive. The Syndics filed off the shuttle between ranks of Marines in full battle armor with weapons at guard position. Some of the civilians were trying to look brave, but all appeared frightened. Fifty-one of them, their civilian clothes a mix of styles and types that Geary realized must reflect raiding old stockpiles and closets as their supplies of clothing wore out. All of them seemed slightly gaunt, reflecting what must have been short rations in recent years as the amount of food available also ran low.
They were also trying not to stare around at the ship and at the Alliance personnel in the hangar deck. It struck Geary as he watched them that these people had never encountered strangers before, never actually been anyplace unfamiliar. Far in time and space as they were from mankind’s origins, these Syndics were like the ancient inhabitants of a small island encountering their first ships from the outside. Not just ships, but warships carrying people who were supposed to be their sworn enemies.
Desjani stood beside him, her posture rigid, her face revealing nothing as she watched the enemy civilians walk onto the deck of her ship.
Geary recognized the man he’d spoken with and stepped forward. “Welcome to the Alliance fleet flagship. We’ll have to keep you all under guard, and a warship isn’t designed for a lot of passengers, so your accommodations will be pretty cramped.”
The man nodded. “I’m the mayor of . . . Well, I used to be the mayor of Alpha. We can’t very well complain about conditions here. It’s warm, and we can breathe. We honestly didn’t know if our life-support systems would hold out until your shuttles reached us.” The man’s eyes were still troubled by the memories of what must have been an agonizing wait. “But at least we knew you were coming. There haven’t been any ships here since the corporations pulled out. Before we got your call, we were getting ready to draw lots, though some argued the oldest shouldn’t even draw since we wouldn’t last long anyway.”
It was all too easy to imagine how these people had felt. “Why weren’t you evacuated from this star system along with everyone else?”
This time the mayor made a baffled gesture. “We have no idea. All of us who were left worked for subsidiaries of the same corporation, and our senior staff left on the last ship sent by another company. We were told the ships for us would arrive soon. They never did.”
“We’re taking you to Cavalos, so I guess your ships finally did arrive.”
The mayor grinned nervously. “Better late than never, right? You said you’re Captain John Geary? We know the name. It’s in our histories, though I expect they say different things than yours do. You’re his grandson?”
Geary shook his head. “No. I’m him. It’s a long story,” he added, as the mayor stared at him in disbelief, “but suffice it to say I fought at Grendel in the first battle of this war, and the living stars willing, I’ll see the last battle of it as well.”
The man leaned back involuntarily, his eyes wide.
A woman stood beside the mayor, her eyes constantly shifting from him to Geary, then to three children hanging on to her. The oldest of those, a young boy, saw his father recoil slightly and eyed Geary defiantly. “Don’t you dare hurt my father!”
Before Geary could answer he became aware that Desjani was beside him again, gazing down at the boy, her face still expressionless but her eyes showing inexplicable sadness. “Your father will not be harmed on my ship as long he does not attempt to cause any damage to my ship.”
The boy moved slightly, putting himself between Desjani and his mother. “We can’t believe you. We know what you’ve done.”
To Geary’s surprise, Desjani went to one knee so her head was on a level with the boy’s. “Man of the Syndicate Worlds,” she addressed the boy as if he were his father’s age, “under the command of Captain John Geary, the Alliance fleet no longer wars on the innocent or the helpless. Even should he leave his command, we would not do so again because he has reminded us of that which honor demands of warriors. You need not protect your family from us.”
The boy, wordless with surprise at being spoken to that way, nodded.
Desjani rose and looked down at the boy, then at his mother, exchanging some wordless message. The mother nodded, seeming reassured. Then Desjani gazed around and spoke in her command voice, her words ringing through the shuttle dock. “Citizens of the Syndicate Worlds, I’m Captain Desjani, commanding officer of the Alliance battle cruiser Dauntless. You are not combatants and will be treated as civilians in need of humanitarian assistance unless you try to harm my ship or members of my crew. Follow all instructions and orders given you. Anyone who violates orders or attempts to damage this ship or harm any Alliance personnel will be regarded as an enemy combatant and treated accordingly. We will require about three more days to reach the jump point to Cavalos, then just under nine days in jump space before arriving at Cavalos. According to the latest Syndicate Worlds’ star-system guides in our possession, that star retains a robust human presence. Once there, we’ll identify a safe place to deliver you.”
Desjani frowned as she studied the Syndic civilians. “I’ll have my medical personnel check you for serious problems. You’d be wise to cooperate with them to the best of your ability. Your rations will be equivalent to what my own crew is eating. At this point that’s mostly expired Syndic rations, so don’t expect any fine meals. Are there any questions?”
One woman, late middle-aged, called out. “Why?”
Desjani flicked a glance at Geary, but he indicated she could answer if she wanted. Facing the woman, Desjani spoke crisply. “Because only those who show mercy can expect to receive it. And because the honor of our ancestors demands it. Marines, escort the civilians to their accommodations. ”
Despite Geary’s fears, no more sabotage attempts occurred over the next two days as the fleet covered the distance to the jump point for Cavalos. The Syndic civilians were so terrified, none of them had caused any problems. As he sat on the bridge of Dauntless waiting to give the jump command, Geary noticed Desjani gazing morosely at her display, where an image of Wendig One floated. “Something wrong?” he asked.
Desjani shook her head. “I was just thinking about how I’d feel if we were about to jump, and they were still there. I’ve had to think a lot about it, but you did the right thing, sir.”
“We did the right thing, Captain Desjani.” She glanced at him and nodded. Geary took one last look at Wendig One, lifeless again as it had been for uncounted years before humans came, and gave the order. “All ships, jump for Cavalos.”
NINE days, a fairly long stretch in jump space that couldn’t help but evoke thoughts about what would have happened if the worm in the jump drives hadn’t been discovered. Geary found himself staring at the drab grayness of jump space and the mysterious lights blooming and fading there, feeling the familiar sense of discomfort as if his skin didn’t fit right, growing each day, and wondered how long humans could remain sane if stuck there.
The Syndic civilians remained quiet and scared, crews worked continuing to repair internal battle damage to their warships, the auxiliaries manufactured more necessities for the fleet, and Geary found himself worrying more about his internal foes in the fleet than he did about the Syndic military. That was a first, but then his internal enemies had never before posed deadly threats to him and the ships of the fleet.
Five days along in jump space, he got the sort of brief message that was all that could be transmitted there. Making progress, from Captain Cresida. If she could figure out how to defuse even partially the threat of human-species extinction via hypernet gate collapses, it would remove a great weight from his shoulders.
Nine days, one hour, and six minutes from the time they jumped from Wendig, the Alliance fleet flashed into normal space at the Syndic star system Cavalos, its weapons ready for action and its sensors scanning for targets. But no mines awaited here, nor a Syndic flotilla or picket ships at the jump points. Apparently the unexpected Alliance victory at Lakota had badly thrown off the Syndics.
Cavalos did indeed have a decent human presence remaining. A halfway-comfortable world orbited about eight light-minutes from the star, and an even half dozen other significant planets swung around the star farther out, including a typical number of three gas giants, one with a fair amount of activity still apparent at mines and an orbiting facility. Near the inhabited world an obsolete Syndic light cruiser and a couple of even-more-obsolete “nickel” corvettes orbited.
Geary studied the situation, then looked to Desjani. “Just a standard self-defense force for a system deep in Syndic space. No threat to us.”
She shrugged. “We should take them out if the chance arises. They are legitimate targets.”
“I know. But I don’t expect them to be dumb enough to charge us, and they’re not worth the time or fuel cells it’d take to try to chase them down.”
Desjani nodded this time. “They’re junk anyway. As far as internal threats go, all of the systems-security officers in the fleet are on full alert, but nothing has popped up yet.”
No apparent threat to the fleet. That left room to worry about the Syndics from Wendig again. “This star system doesn’t seem to have suffered much deterioration since the hypernet was built. Should we drop our passengers off at that orbital facility? It’s not too far out of the way and won’t take us far into the star system.” The Syndic facility orbiting the gas giant was one and a quarter light-hours distant from the Alliance fleet, a bit off the track the fleet would have followed if going directly to the jump points for the next two stars Geary had to chose from, Anahalt or Dilawa. Not too far off, though. The main cost of dropping off the Syndic civilians would be the need to slow the fleet down again while the shuttles made their deliveries, a small loss in time and a small but real price in fuel cells.
Desjani pursed her lips as she checked the reports from the fleet’s sensors. “It’s got a fair amount of cold areas, which means they’ve got the ability to expand back into those if they need to. Either that, or they’ve got excess life support in the still-occupied areas. They should easily be able to absorb all of the civilians from Wendig.”
“Co-President Rione?” Geary asked.
“I defer to your professional judgments on the matter,” Rione replied.
“All right then.” Geary organized his thoughts for a moment, then activated his comm circuit. “This is Captain John Geary, commanding officer of the Alliance fleet, making an open broadcast to the inhabitants and authorities of the Syndicate Worlds’ star system Cavalos. We do not intend engaging in any military actions in this star system unless attacked. If we are attacked, we will reply with all necessary force.”
He paused. “This fleet carries five hundred sixty-three civilian citizens of the Syndicate Worlds whom we evacuated from Wendig Star System in response to their plea for rescue as their life-support systems failed. We will deliver those civilians to the main facility orbiting the gas giant five point three light-hours out from your star. Any attack on this fleet during our transit may result in injury to your own citizens, so you would be wise to exercise restraint.”
He took a deep breath before continuing. “This fleet was present in Lakota Star System when Syndicate Worlds’ warships destroyed that star system’s hypernet gate and unleashed a destructive wave of energy that inflicted serious damage on the habitable world and all other human presence in the star system. We will transmit to all ships and occupied planets in this star system copies of our records of that event and of the pleas for assistance from the survivors on Lakota Three. The survivors at Lakota are in desperate need of aid, so we request that you forward this information as fast as possible.”
“I repeat, any attack on this fleet will be met with overwhelming force. To the honor of our ancestors.” He leaned back and glanced at Desjani. “Threatening enough?”
“If they’re smart.”
To no one’s surprise, the Syndics didn’t directly respond to Geary’s message or to the information from Lakota. Syndic shipping in the star system followed the usual pattern of fleeing for jump points or facilities, but otherwise no response to the Alliance fleet’s presence could be spotted aside from obvious civil-defense activity on the habitable world. Similarly, nothing happened from the fleet’s internal saboteurs, which didn’t so much cause relief as fear that something had been missed.
As the Alliance fleet bore down on the Syndic orbiting facility, less than two hours’ travel time remaining, someone finally reacted. “We have a transmission from the Syndic facility, ” Dauntless’s communications watch-stander reported.
Geary called it up, seeing the image of a woman with gray hair and nervous eyes. “Do not approach this facility. You cannot land shuttles here,” she declared.
“We’re going to,” Geary assured her. “We’re going to drop off Syndicate Worlds’ citizens, then we’re leaving.”
“We’ll defend ourselves if you attempt to invade this facility.”
“We have no intent to invade any facility in this star system. Our shuttles will be accompanied by Marine security personnel. You are to ensure that no armed presence is nearby when our shuttles drop off your citizens. Once your citizens have been delivered, our shuttles and Marines will depart.”
The woman shook her head, fear coloring her expression. “I cannot authorize or allow an Alliance presence on my facility. We will defend ourselves.”
Geary had never liked bureaucrats, especially bureaucrats who seemed unable to adjust when reality collided with the rules they lived by. “Listen. If any attempt is made to attack my ships, my shuttles, or my personnel when we’re dropping off your civilians, I will hit that station of yours so hard that the quarks making up its component atomic particles will never find their way back together. Is that clear? If anyone fires on the civilians we drop off, I’ll do the same thing. They’re your people. We rescued them at risk to ourselves, we’re taking time we don’t have to spare to drop them off here, and you’d damn well better take good care of them after we do!” Geary’s voice rose as he talked, ending in a roar that seemed to terrify the Syndic station administrator.
"Y-yes, I . . . I understand,” she stuttered. “We’ll prepare to receive them. Under duress. Please, we have families aboard this station . . .”
“Then let’s not have any trouble,” Geary replied, trying to get his voice’s volume back to normal. “Some of the people we rescued from Wendig have long-term health problems they couldn’t treat there. We’ve done what we could, but they’ll need more assistance from you. I’m going to be blunt that I find it appalling that your leaders would abandon human beings to eventual deaths when their life-support systems failed.”
“You’re not going to kill us? Or destroy this station?” The administrator seemed to be having a lot of trouble grasping the idea.
“No. Any military value it has doesn’t outweigh the suffering such actions would cause civilian inhabitants of this star system.”
“And you truly saved people from Wendig? We thought no one was left there.” The woman seemed about ready to break down. “Everyone was supposed to have been removed when the system was abandoned.”
“The people we evacuated told us that the corporation they or their parents were employed by never sent ships. They had no way of finding out why, of course. Perhaps you can help them with that,” Geary added pointedly.
“H-how many?”
“Five hundred sixty-three.” He could see the question on her face, the same question all of the Syndics, and many of the Alliance personnel, kept asking. Why? Irritated at again having to be faced with a question whose answer he thought obvious, Geary spoke roughly. “That’s all.”
Desjani was once again pretending to be absorbed in something on her own display.
“When are we loading the Syndics into the shuttles?” Geary asked, his voice angry still.
“They should be on their way to the shuttle dock now,” Desjani replied in a tone that sounded suspiciously soothing to Geary. He was trying to decide whether to get irritated by that, too, when she stood up. “I was about to go down to see them off.”
Calming himself, Geary stood as well. “May I come along?”
“Of course, sir.”
The same scene as from eleven days ago was playing out on the shuttle dock, though in reverse as the column of Syndic civilians shuffled onto the shuttle, some pausing to wave quickly to individual members of Dauntless’s crew who had come to the shuttle dock and stood to one side, watching silently. The Marines seemed as menacing as ever in their battle armor, but the Syndics appeared to be less terrified of them.
The former mayor of Alpha turned to Geary and Desjani as they walked up. “Thank you. I wish I knew what else to say. None of us will forget this.”
To Geary’s surprise, Desjani answered. “If given the chance in the future, offer the same mercy to Alliance citizens.”
“I promise you that we shall, and we’ll tell others to do the same.”
The mayor’s wife moved forward to gaze intently at Desjani. “Thank you, lady, for my children’s lives.”
“Captain,” Desjani corrected, but bent one corner of her mouth in a crooked smile. She looked slightly down and nodded to the boy, who gazed back at her solemnly, then saluted in the Syndic fashion. Desjani returned the salute, then looked back to the mother.
“Thank you, Captain,” that woman stated. “May this war end before my children have to face your fleet in battle.”
Desjani nodded wordlessly again, then watched with Geary as the last of the Syndic civilians walked quickly into the shuttles. As the last hatch sealed, she spoke so quietly only Geary could hear. “It’s easier when they don’t have faces.”
It took him a moment to realize what she meant. “You mean the enemy.”
“Yes.”
“Have you ever met a Syndic before?”
“Only prisoners of war,” Desjani replied in a dismissive tone. “Syndics who’d been trying to kill me and other Alliance citizens a short time before.” Her eyes closed for a moment. “I don’t know what happened to most of them. I do know what happened to some of them.”
Geary hesitated to ask the obvious question. A short time after assuming command of the fleet, he’d learned to his horror that enemy prisoners of war were sometimes casually killed, the outgrowth of a hundred years of war in which atrocity had fueled atrocity. He’d never asked Desjani if she had participated in such a crime.
But she opened her eyes and looked steadily at him. “I watched it happen. I didn’t pull any triggers, I didn’t issue any orders, but I watched it, and I didn’t stop it.”
He nodded, keeping his own eyes on hers. “You’d been taught that it was acceptable.”
“That’s no excuse.”
“Your ancestors—”
“Told me it was wrong,” Desjani interrupted, something she rarely did with Geary. “I knew it, I felt it, I didn’t listen. I take responsibility for my actions. I know I’ll pay the price for that. Perhaps that’s why we lost so many ships in the Syndic home system. Perhaps that’s why the war has kept going all of these years. We’re being punished, for straying from what was right because we believed wrong to be necessary. ”
He wasn’t about to reject her, or condemn someone who’d already accepted a full measure of blame. But he could stand alongside her. “Yeah, maybe we are being punished.”
Desjani frowned. “Sir? Why would you be punished for things done while you weren’t with us?”
“I’m with you now, aren’t I? I’m part of this fleet and loyal to the Alliance. If you’re being punished, then so am I. I didn’t suffer through all the years of war that you have, but all I knew was taken from me.”
She shook her head, frowning deeper. “You just said this is your fleet, and the Alliance has your loyalty. Those things weren’t taken from you.”
Geary frowned back at her, surprised to realize he’d never thought of it that way.
Desjani gave him an intent look. “They sent you when we needed you. They gave us a second chance. They gave you a second chance, instead of letting you die in the battle at Grendel or afterward, when your escape pod’s systems would have eventually given out. We’re being offered mercy if we can prove ourselves worthy of it.”
She had startled him again, with a point of view he’d never considered, and by including him as part of them all. Not a separate hero out of myth but one of them. “Maybe you’re right,” Geary stated. “We can’t win this war by destruction unless we go all out with the hypernet gates and commit species suicide. If this war is ever to end, we’ll not only have to beat them on the battlefield but also be willing to forgive the Syndics if they’re willing to express real remorse. Maybe we’re being given an example to follow.”
She was silent for a few moments, and he stayed quiet as well. The shuttle dock internal doors sealed between them and the shuttle, then the external ones opened, and the bird lifted off, carrying its passengers to the Syndic facility. Finally, Desjani looked back at him. “I’ve spent a long time wanting to punish the Syndics, to hurt them as they’ve hurt us.”
“I can understand why,” Geary said. “Thanks for going along with me on helping those civilians. I know it went against a lot of what you believe.”
“What I believed,” Desjani amended. She was quiet for a moment longer, but Geary waited, sensing that she had something else to say. “But that cycle of vengeance never ends. I realized something. I don’t want to have to kill that boy someday, when he’s old enough to fight.”
“Me, neither. Or his father or his mother. And I don’t want that boy trying to kill Alliance citizens. How can we end this, Tanya?”
“You’ll think of a way, sir.”
“Thanks.”
He meant it sarcastically, and was sure it sounded sarcastic, but Desjani smiled slightly at him. “Did you see how they looked at us? They were afraid, then they were disbelieving, and finally they were grateful.” She stopped smiling and looked outward. “I like fighting. I like going head-to-head with the best the Syndics have. But I’ve had enough of killing people like those. Can we convince the Syndics to stop bombarding civilian targets?”
“We can try. Our bombardment weapons are accurate enough that we can certainly continue to keep taking out industrial targets while minimizing civilian losses.”
Her face was grim now. “They kill ours, and we don’t kill theirs?”
“It’ll have to be a mutual deal. When we get back, we’ll tell them, stop bombarding our people, and we’ll continue not bombarding yours.”
“Why would they—?” Desjani stopped talking in mid-question, then gave Geary a long look. “And they might believe we’d abide by that since you’ve been demonstrating the willingness to do so.”
“Maybe.”
“And if they don’t stop?”
“We keep taking out their industry and military targets.” Desjani grimaced. “Listen, Tanya, if there’s nothing for those people to build or fight with, they’re a burden to the Syndics who have to worry about feeding them and taking care of them.”
“They’ll build new industrial sites. New defenses.”
“And we’ll blow those away, too.” Geary jerked his head to indicate roughly the space outside of Dauntless’s hull. “Ever since humanity achieved routine space travel, we’ve had the ability to destroy things with rocks tossed from space far faster and easier than humans on planets can build things. The Syndics can sink endless effort and resources into rebuilding and never catch up.”
She thought about that, then nodded. “You’re right. But that same logic applied a long time ago when we started bombarding civilian populations as well as military and industrial targets. Why did we start, all those decades ago?”
“I don’t know.” Geary cast his mind back, trying to imagine the point at which the people he had known a century earlier had changed to become people like those now. But there hadn’t been any point, any single event, rather what Victoria Rione had called a slippery slope in which one seemingly reasonable decision to escalate led to another. “Maybe revenge for Syndic bombardments of Alliance worlds. Maybe a tactic of desperation when the war kept going on and on. An attempt to break the enemy morale. We studied that when I was a junior officer, but as a lesson in what hadn’t worked. Time and again in history people tried bombarding enemies enough to make them quit. But when the enemies thought their own homes or beliefs were in danger, they never quit. Totally irrational, but then we’re human. ”
“Syndic bombardments never made us want to give up,” Desjani agreed. “We’re very frustrated with our leaders, but we want them to win. We don’t want them to surrender. But not many people, especially in the fleet, still believe our leaders can win this war. That’s why—”
He glanced at her as she stopped speaking again. “Why I got a certain offer from Captain Badaya? You know about it, too?”
“Yes, sir. Of course, sir. It’s being widely talked about.”
“I won’t, Tanya. I won’t betray the Alliance that way, by accepting the offer to become a dictator. I told Badaya that.” She looked at the deck, her face expressionless. “It wouldn’t work, and it’d be wrong.”
Desjani spoke very, very quietly. “I have to ask you, have you been offered something else? If you agreed?”
He tried to remember, because whatever it was seemed to bother her a great deal, but couldn’t come up with anything.
“No. Nothing specific. It’s all been couched in very general terms.”
“You’re certain?” Her voice was angry now though still very quiet. “You haven’t been promised anything else, Captain Geary?” He shook his head, letting his puzzlement show. “Anyone else, Captain Geary?”
Anyone else? What could—? He was certain his shock showed. “You mean you?” he whispered, too stunned to speak in euphemisms.
She looked at him again, studying his face, and seemed to relax. “Yes. I’ve been urged by some individuals to . . . offer myself. I’ve wondered if they had offered me on their own.”
Geary felt heat in his face, embarrassment and anger rising in tandem. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so filled with rage. “Who?” he whispered savagely. “Who the hell had the bloody nerve to dare suggest such a thing to you? You’re not some prize or playing piece. Tell me who they are, and I’ll—” This time he had to choke off his words, aware that even a fleet commander couldn’t threaten to rip subordinates into tiny pieces and vent them out the air lock.
Desjani gave him a thin-lipped smile. “I can defend my own honor, sir. But thank you. Thank you very much.”
“Tanya, I swear, if I find out—”
“Let me deal with it, sir. Please.” He nodded reluctantly. “We should get back to the bridge, sir, to monitor what’s going on.” Another nod. One corner of Desjani’s mouth bent farther upward. “You wouldn’t make a good dictator, would you?”
“Probably not.”
“Perhaps there’s a reason for that, too.”
He kept waiting for something to go wrong, but the Alliance shuttles dropped off every Syndic civilian and lifted off again, then returned to their ships without any Syndic attempts to interfere with the operation. “Did we actually carry out an operation without the Syndics trying to double-cross us and booby-trap everything in sight?” Desjani asked.
“Looks like it. And so far our own double-crossers haven’t sprung any more traps on us, either.” Geary studied the display, as unwilling to believe it as Desjani. The shuttles all recovered, the Alliance fleet was cutting across one arc of Cavalos Star System toward the jump point that could access either Anahalt or Dilawa. “Three more days to the jump point?”
“Yes, sir. Unless something else happens.” Desjani clenched her jaw as alerts sounded. “And something just did.”
Syndic warships were becoming visible at the jump point they were heading toward.
TEN
“TEN Syndic battleships, twelve battle cruisers, seventeen heavy cruisers, twenty-five light cruisers, forty-two Hunter-Killers, ” the operations watch-stander announced.
“Roughly half our strength,” Desjani observed, “though we’ve got a much bigger advantage in lighter units. Will they avoid action or fight?”
“They’ve got to have orders to stop us or delay us,” Geary pointed out. “To do either of those things, they have to fight.”
“They might be too frightened to fight after what this fleet did at Lakota.” Then Desjani paused as something occurred to her. “They may not know what happened at Lakota. They may assume the pursuit force we destroyed at Lakota is still after us and may appear at any moment.”
“You’re probably right, since they came from either Anahalt or Dilawa.” Geary watched as the eight-light-hours-distant images of the Syndic formation could be seen coming around onto a new vector. The Syndics had already had eight hours to decide what to do and get started doing it. “It’s a standard Syndic box formation so far.”
“Maybe this CEO will be as stupid as the one at Kaliban,” Desjani suggested. That enemy commander had simply charged head-on at the superior numbers of the Alliance fleet, allowing Geary to annihilate the enemy forces by bringing all of his firepower to bear.
“That’d be nice,” Geary agreed, “but we can’t count on it. I’ve got a suspicion that we’re killing stupid CEOs faster than the Syndics are promoting them.”
“I’ve found it hard to overestimate the ability of any system to promote stupid people.”
With the promise of combat looming, Desjani was in a good enough mood to crack jokes, although Geary had to admit she had a point. “Let’s assume he or she isn’t stupid. Do you think they’ll try hitting our flanks with fast runs, or if I have the formation divided, will they try to hit one of the subformations head-on?”
Desjani considered that. “They’ve been taught to fight like we used to fight, with head-on charges. Even if they try something fancy, it’s more likely to be a charge against one portion of our formation rather than a firing pass against a flank or corner like you taught us. That’s what I’d expect.”
Ideally, he’d just concentrate his own fleet into one big formation for the Syndic to charge toward. But such a big formation wouldn’t allow all of his ships to engage the smaller enemy formation, negating a lot of his superiority. On the other hand, if the Syndic was going to aim for a subformation rather than going straight for the main body of the fleet, tactics like those at Kaliban wouldn’t work either. He’d have to use something different.
Rione reached the bridge then, pausing to look at the display before her seat before addressing Geary. “What do you plan on doing?”
Geary indicated his own display, where the sweeping arc of the Syndic formation’s projected course and speed was coming around and steadying on a vector that intercepted the arc of the Alliance fleet’s own path, the two curved lines bending across light-hours of distance to join like twin sabers clashing. “I plan on meeting the enemy, Madam Co-President, in a little less than a day and a half.”
Rione looked from her display with its readout of the enemy’s numbers, then to Geary, and shook her head. “It’s like fighting a hydra. No matter how many Syndic warships we destroy, there are always more.”
“They keep building them, and unlike us, they can get reinforcements,” Geary pointed out.
“I’d recommend trying to capture this CEO alive, Captain Geary. He or she may be able to answer some questions for us.”
“I’ll do my best, Madam Co-President.”
“CAPTAIN, we’re receiving a very tightly focused transmission from the direction of the primary inhabited world. It’s addressed to Captain Geary.”
Desjani gave him a wary look. They were still almost eight hours from contact with the Syndic flotilla, not having assumed their combat formation yet. “I’ll take it,” Geary advised. “Let Captain Desjani see it, too.”
The window that popped up before him showed an older woman seated at a desk, wearing a midrank Syndic CEO uniform. “I suppose you’re wondering why the senior Syndicate Worlds’ officer in this star system is communicating with you, Captain Geary, and doing it in a manner that minimizes any chance anyone else will discover that she did so.”
She gestured to a picture on the desk, of a young man Geary vaguely recognized. “I had a brother, long dead in an accident, I thought. Now I have a brother, and the knowledge that a corporation tied to a very senior Syndicate Worlds’ leader wrote off actually removing him and hundreds of his coworkers from Wendig because it shaved a small amount off the expenses column in that corporation’s annual report. I also have a sister-in-law and some nieces and a nephew I’d never known of, all of whom owe their lives to you.”
The face in the picture suddenly clicked in Geary’s mind. It was the mayor of Alpha, though decades younger.
The Syndic planetary CEO shook her head. “Not to mention all of the lives that would have been lost in this star system if you had chosen to bombard this planet. But I’ve heard from people in places like Corvus and Sutrah and even Sancere, so I know you’ve been behaving the same way everywhere, striking only at military targets or industrial sites in retaliation for our own attacks on you. I don’t know how many millions or billions of Syndicate Worlds’ citizens you might have easily killed, but I do know you didn’t do it.”
Now the Syndic planetary CEO smiled grimly. “Now I find myself thanking the Alliance fleet for all of those lives even though my orders are to take any actions that might cost you any ships or delay you in any way, regardless of the potential loss to the inhabitants of this star system. I’m well aware of the situation you find yourself in. We’ve been told a half dozen times that your fleet was trapped and soon to be destroyed. How you’ve made it this far the living stars alone know. That you came to be in command, Captain Geary, and the identification the Syndicate Worlds have been able to do on you seems positive, leads me to wonder if the living stars have actually intervened in this war. That you took a force built for war and used it to save the lives of your enemies causes me to be grateful that they have.
“I owe you, Captain Geary, and I believe in repaying debts. Your fleet is headed for an engagement with a substantial Syndicate Worlds’ force, but one you outnumber significantly. Even though our leaders are trying to keep everything about you and your fleet highly classified, there are plenty of credible unofficial reports circulating. Based on those, I don’t expect the Syndic force to prevail here, but based on your actions to date, that expectation does not fill me with fear. Your fleet will be less a threat to the people here than one answering to the Syndicate Worlds’ Executive Council.”
The Syndic CEO shook her head again. “I won’t forget what you did, Captain Geary. A lot of us have come to the understanding that this war stopped making sense the day it began. We’re tired of trying to hold things together in our star systems while our leaders squander the wealth of the Syndicate Worlds in a war that can’t be won. When you get home, tell your leaders that there are people here who are weary of fighting and want to talk.”
The Syndic CEO paused. “When our facilities at Dilawa were mothballed about twenty years ago, it was judged uneconomical to remove the stockpiled materials at the mining facilities there. A lot of things were left in place. Just in case you have need of supplies after you leave here.”
The window blanked, and Geary leaned back, thinking.
“Can we trust her?” Desjani wondered.
“I don’t know. Where’s Co-President Rione?”
“In her stateroom, I think.”
“Shoot her a copy of that and ask for her assessment.” Desjani’s mouth twitched, and she hesitated just enough for Geary to see. “Never mind. I’ll do it.”
Five minutes later Rione was on the bridge. “I think she’s being honest.”
“She wants to talk peace, and expects us to defeat this Syndic flotilla, and told us where we can find raw materials to resupply the auxiliaries,” Geary pointed out. “If the Syndic authorities find out any of that, they’ll have her head off in a heartbeat.”
Rione nodded to Geary, her face thoughtful. “This implies a higher degree of rot within the Syndic hierarchy than we expected. A star-system CEO telling us directly that she no longer supports the war.”
“She’s also sympathizing with us against her own forces,” Desjani pointed out to Geary, seeming to be torn between gratitude and revulsion.
Instead of replying to her, Rione spoke to Geary. “The Syndic fleet has been a critical part of the mechanism by which the leaders of the Syndicate Worlds have maintained control over their territory. Anyone trying to display any independence would find warships arriving to enforce the will of their Executive Council. The more damage you do to that fleet, the greater the opportunity for local leaders such as this one to act on their own.”
“That fleet is nonetheless made up of their own people,” Desjani told Geary. “The fact that she’s apparently willing to cheer us on against them should play a role in our assessment of her.”
Rione shook her head as she addressed Geary again. “A hypernet-bypassed star system probably has proportionally fewer citizens in the fleet and feels far less a part of the Syndicate Worlds as time has gone by.”
Geary looked back at Desjani, only then realizing that both women were talking just to him and ignoring each other, as if they were in separate rooms and could only communicate directly with him.
Desjani shrugged slightly. “The Syndic CEO we saw is a politician, and I suppose a politician might feel less compunction about the sacrifices of military personnel.”
That made Rione’s jaw visibly tighten, but she still didn’t look at Desjani. “You have my assessment, Captain Geary. Now if you will excuse me, I have other matters to attend to.” She swung around and left the bridge.
Geary pressed the fingertips of one hand against his forehead for a moment in an attempt to push away an impending headache. “Captain Desjani,” he murmured so only she could hear, “I would appreciate it if you refrained from engaging in open combat with Co-President Rione.”
“Open combat?” Desjani replied in similar low tones. “I don’t understand, sir.”
He gave her a sharp look, but Desjani was eyeing him with what was surely pretended innocent puzzlement. “I really don’t want to go into details.”
“I’m afraid you’ll have to, sir.”
Desjani might consider him guided by the living stars when it came to command of the fleet, but when it came to dealing with Rione, she obviously had a different opinion. “Just try to act like she’s in the same room with you.”
“She’s not, sir. She left the bridge.”
“Are you mocking me, Captain Desjani?”
“No, sir. I would never do that, sir.” Perfectly serious, as far as he could tell.
It was clearly time to withdraw from the engagement. He couldn’t go into more detail or get angry without drawing attention from the watch-standers on the bridge, and he didn’t need that. “Thank you, Captain Desjani. I’m very happy to hear that. I have enough other things to worry about.”
Desjani at least looked a little regretful as Geary left, trying to catch up with Rione. He suspected she’d had some other important insights to share, and he wanted to ask Rione something.
She wasn’t moving fast, so he caught up with her halfway down the passageway. “Tell me the truth,” Geary requested. “Is the Alliance that badly off as well? Is the Alliance ready to crack?”
“Why do you ask?” Rione’s tone was as unemotional as ever.
“Because you didn’t seem happy at the evidence of how bad things are for the Syndics. You’ve told me the Alliance military is unhappy with the Alliance government, you’ve told me that everyone is tired of war, but is it as bad as here in Syndic space? Is the Alliance threatening to fall apart?”
Rione stopped walking, her gaze directed at the deck, then slowly nodded without looking at him. “A century of war, John Geary. We can’t be beaten, neither can they, but both sides can push until they fracture.”
“That’s why you came along on this expedition? Not just because you were afraid that Bloch might try to become a dictator, but because you were sure that he’d succeed, that the war-weary citizens of the Alliance would follow him because they’d lost belief in the Alliance.”
“Bloch would not have succeeded,” Rione stated calmly. “He would have died.”
“You would have killed him.” She nodded. “Bloch must have known what you intended. He must have had precautions in place against you.”
“He did.” A very small smile flicked on and off Rione’s face. “They wouldn’t have been enough.”
Geary stared at her. “And what would have happened to you?”
“I’m not certain. It wouldn’t have mattered. What counted was stopping a dictator in his tracks.”
He couldn’t spot any trace of mockery or dishonesty in her. Rione meant it. “You were willing to die in order to make sure he was dead. Victoria, sometimes you scare the hell out of me.”
“Sometimes I scare the hell out of me.” She still seemed absolutely serious. “I told you, John Geary. I believed the man I loved had died in this war. I’ve had nothing else to live for since then but my devotion to the Alliance. If the Alliance itself was about to crumble, then I’d have nothing left at all. My husband died for the Alliance, and if necessary, I could as well.”
“Why didn’t you tell me this right from the start?”
Rione watched him for a moment before answering. “Because if you were someone in the mold of Admiral Bloch, you didn’t need encouraging. But if you were truly like Black Jack, you wouldn’t believe me, because the idea of the Alliance falling apart would have been too hard for you to accept. You needed to see enough for yourself to understand how bad things are. And I did tell you things, though you may not always have recognized it.” Rione shook her head. “I sounded you out, I watched you, I did what I had to do in order to influence your attitudes toward the way things are now.”
“What you had to do?” The phrase sounded cold even for Rione. “You told me once that you didn’t sleep with me just to influence me.”
Her eyes stayed on his. “That wasn’t the only reason, no. But it was part of it. Satisfied? You got my body, I got yours, and in the dark watches of the night I whispered to you about the need to protect the Alliance from those who would destroy it in the name of saving it. Oh, I enjoyed the sex. I admit that freely. But the day came when I knew that I no longer need fear you, and when I knew that my feelings were beginning to betray the husband I still love and who may still live. I didn’t give you to her because I’m noble, John Geary. I did it for myself, and because I’d done what I needed to do.”
He didn’t believe all of that. Rione’s posture and expression hadn’t changed, but he remembered the drunken words she’d once spoken, and he noticed that even while dispassionately justifying all she had done, Rione still didn’t say Tanya Desjani’s name. “You haven’t given me to anybody, let alone Captain Desjani.”
“You may have to lie to yourself, John Geary, but give me some credit.”
“Why are you staying on Dauntless, then? There are plenty of surviving ships from the Callas Republic to which you could transfer.”
“Because you’ll need me close when we get home. Not as a threat, as an ally. I know how the political leaders of the Alliance will react to you. Black Jack has returned, the savior of the fleet and the Alliance. You won’t take what some of them will offer in exchange for more power for themselves. You won’t do what others of them will fear, taking all power for yourself. No, John Geary,” Rione insisted, “you will stand atop the bulwarks of the Alliance and defend it against all enemies, both those inside and those outside, because that’s who you are, someone out of a simpler past. And I will help you against those inside who seek to use you or act against you out of fear.”
“Against me? Do you think I’ll be in danger from the political leadership of the Alliance?”
“If I had been on the Governing Council when you returned, I would have argued for your immediate arrest and isolation under the public deception of your being on some secret mission. Because I would have thought you were someone in the mold of Admiral Bloch or Captain Falco. I’ve learned different, and I will tell the other senators what I know. Believe me, you will need me,” Rione declared. “Even those politicians who dislike me, and there are plenty of those, know that I will not betray the Alliance. My words will matter to all of them.”
Geary looked away, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand and trying to think. No matter how complex getting this fleet home in one piece had always been, life once the fleet got home had seemed so simple. Resign his commission, go somewhere he wouldn’t be recognized, try to hide from the legend of Black Jack and the unrealistic, devout expectations of those who believed he had been sent by the living stars themselves to this fleet to save it and the Alliance. He’d kept focused on that to keep everything from overwhelming him, even as the idea of walking away from this fleet and its people felt less and less right. Now he had to admit that at the very least he’d have more problems to deal with before he could leave these responsibilities behind. “Thank you, Victoria. I’m sure your help will be critical.”
She shook her head. “Don’t thank me. I’m not doing it for you.”
“Thanks, anyway. Do you want to discuss the upcoming battle?”
“You’ll be fine. You always are.”
His temper threatened to explode. “Dammit, the last thing I or anyone else in this fleet needs is for me to become overconfident! I’m going to try to minimize our losses, but this battle will not be simple or easy or painless!”
Rione smiled in an infuriating manner. “See? You already know that. You don’t need me to tell you. Anything else?”
“Yes,” Geary stated between gritted teeth. “How about whether we should go to Anahalt or Dilawa afterward?”
Rione spread her hands in a dismissive gesture. “Follow your instincts, Captain Geary. They’re much better than mine, at least while we’re still in Syndic space.”
“I’d still like your opinion on whether or not we can trust that Syndic CEO.”
“Of course you can’t. But that doesn’t mean she isn’t being truthful this time. See if what she said about Dilawa matches the Syndic star-system records we’ve captured.” Rione turned to go, then spoke over her shoulder. “That’s my political advice. If you want military advice, go ask your captain for her opinion. It’ll give you two another professional opportunity to huddle close together.”
He watched Rione walk away, without saying anything else that might have just invited another parting shot.
FOUR hours until contact with the Syndics. The Alliance fleet and the Syndic flotilla were less than fifty light-minutes apart, each force moving at point one light speed, their combined rate of closure at the point two light speed maximum for effective targeting. He could now see what the Syndic ships had been doing just less than an hour earlier, just as they could see the status of the Alliance fleet that long ago. It was still too early to set his combat formation, too early to let the Syndic commander know how Geary planned to meet the enemy.
“Captain Geary? There’s something we need to show you.”
He acknowledged the message from Captain Desjani and headed for the compartment she’d called from, trying not to look apprehensive as he passed members of Dauntless’s crew. Despite the need to concentrate on the upcoming battle, Geary had been constantly distracted by worries about what his internal enemies might do. It sounded like they must have tried striking again.
The compartment proved to be one of the primary-systems control stations, apparently confirming his fears. As the hatch sealed behind him, Geary saw Desjani, the lieutenant commander who was Dauntless’s systems-security officer, and the virtual presence of Captain Cresida. “What is it this time?”
Desjani and the lieutenant commander both looked at Cresida, who gestured toward some of the system modules behind her. “I’d been thinking, sir,” Cresida began. “Trying to figure out how the aliens could be tracking us. The business with the worms got me wondering about our systems, about whether anything else could be hidden in them.”
Geary frowned. “The aliens? This isn’t about a new worm generated from somewhere within the fleet?”
“No, sir. We found something that couldn’t have come from internal sources. We had to get Captain Desjani’s systems-security officer involved.”
“It couldn’t have come from the inside?” Geary gave Desjani and her systems-security officer a puzzled look. “But you found something else?”
Cresida nodded. “Yes, sir. What I was wondering was, if something else was there, something that let the aliens track our movements, how could it still be hidden? It would have to be something unlike anything we’ve used or tried to use if our security scans missed it. So I’ve been looking at different things, just off-the-wall stuff, seeing if anything unusual or unexpected showed up anywhere inside our systems.”
Desjani’s systems-security officer tapped a control, and a virtual display popped up beside him, showing a weird image of what looked vaguely like overlapping waves with fluctuating boundaries. “This shows commands being sent through the navigational system, sir,” he explained. “Not the code, but the actual electron signal propagation. It’s a representation, of course, rendered in terms understandable to us. What Captain Cresida found was that the commands had something else piggybacking on them.” He indicated the fluctuating tops and sides.
Cresida pointed to them as well. “I don’t know how they do it, but somehow they’re encoding a worm using self-sustaining probability modulation on a quantum scale. Every particle making up this signal has quantum characteristics, of course. Well, the aliens have imprinted some kind of program on those characteristics. I know it’s not natural because there should be probabilistic variation in how these actions are occurring on the quantum boundaries of the particles making up the signal. There isn’t. It’s following patterns. We can’t tell what those patterns do, or how they do it, but it’s definitely something that shouldn’t be there.”
Desjani nodded toward the display. “We think we’ve found our alien spy, Captain Geary.”
“I’ll be damned. This is in the navigational systems?”
“And the communications systems. We’re still screening the other systems but haven’t found anything like it, yet.”
Geary stared at the display, amazed. “It’s set up to know where we’re going and tell someone else. Can this thing send messages at faster-than-light speeds?”
Cresida made a frustrated gesture. “I don’t know! I don’t know how it works at all, let alone what it can do. I just know it’s not supposed to be there.”
The lieutenant commander spoke up. “Naturally, none of our security programs or firewalls could spot this. It’s, uh, alien to them, if you’ll pardon the term.”
“There’s nothing we can do about it?” Geary demanded. “We just have to leave this thing infesting our systems?”
That drew a fierce smile from Cresida. “No, sir. I may not know how it works, but I know how to kill it.”
“That’s the first time I ever heard you talk like a Marine, Captain Cresida. How do we kill it?”
Cresida indicated the wavery boundaries again. “I’m sure we can generate quantum wave patterns that have opposite characteristics to these waves. In effect, using destructive interference to cancel out the modulated overlays. We don’t have to know what the pattern does or how it’s sustained to create a very short-lived negative image of it. Once the overlays go to a zero probability state, none of them should reappear except in rare random pieces that couldn’t possibly function.”
Geary frowned in puzzlement. “How could even random pieces reappear if they’ve been reduced to zero probability?”
“It’s . . . a quantum thing, sir. It doesn’t make sense to us, but that’s how things work on that level.”
The systems-security officer nodded. “In effect, sir, Captain Cresida has suggested creating an antiviral program using quantum-probability-pattern detection and cancellation. It’s a totally new concept, but the actual creation of the program is well within our capabilities.”
“Thank you, Captain Cresida. I don’t think I’m exaggerating when I say that all humanity is in your debt. I want Lieutenant Iger in intelligence briefed on this, too. Any ideas how it got into our systems?”
The others exchanged glances, then Desjani answered. “I’ve been thinking about it since Captain Cresida showed me this. You suspect the hypernet gates were the products of aliens’ technology, sir. Dauntless, like every other ship in the fleet, has an Alliance hypernet key on board that carries its own operating system.”
Cresida’s eyes widened. “Which interfaces with the ship’s navigational system. You could be right. We’ll get into the keys and see what we can find.”
The systems-security officer frowned this time. “But if it is coming from the hypernet key, do we dare sanitize the key? It could somehow bear on the proper functioning of the key.”
“Very good point,” Cresida agreed. “We’d have to tread very carefully there. But we can set up an antiviral screen between the key and the rest of the ship’s systems once we get the program working.”
“Do it now,” Geary commanded. “If you need anything, and you’re not getting it, make sure I know.”
“Yes, sir, but I’d like to wait until after the battle to start.”
“The battle?” Geary almost slapped his own forehead. Between concerns about internal enemies and hostile aliens, the actual looming battle had slipped his mind for a moment. “Yes, of course, after the battle. And if anything else about this comes up that doesn’t have to be dealt with until after that, wait to tell me.” I can’t risk being that badly distracted again. A lot of ships in this fleet could die if I’m not focused on the most imminent threat. What Cresida had found wouldn’t have any effect on the outcome of this engagement, but it would make a very big long-term difference in the aliens’ ability to intervene again on the side of the Syndics. We’re figuring out your tricks, you bastards. And when we’ve figured out enough of them, we’re going to discuss this war with you and what humans do to nonhumans who try to manipulate them.
ONE hour to engagement range if both forces continued on their current course and speed vectors. Now Geary could see the Syndic formation as of twelve minutes ago, still in its rectangular box shape, one of the short sides facing the Alliance fleet like a hammerhead rushing to strike. “Ready?” he asked Desjani.
“Now?” Her eyes were already locked on the enemy formation.
“Yeah, I couldn’t do it earlier without acting uncharacteristically, but I need to give the Syndic CEO commanding that flotilla time to see what I’m doing so I’ll have time to see how they react.” Geary tapped his controls. “All units in the Alliance fleet, assume stations in Formation Echo Four at time three zero, formation stations to form relative to flagship Dauntless.”
At time three zero, the big Formation Delta the fleet had been in broke apart, warships weaving everywhere in a complex dance as they proceeded to stations in five subformations. “This is like the formation you used in Lakota the first time,” Rione noted, as the shapes became apparent.
“Sort of,” Geary confirmed. “The coin-shaped subformations are very flexible. I can pivot each of them easily because of the shape and the smaller size. But they’ll be arrayed differently than in the Echo Five we used at Lakota.” Four coins were forming up in a diamond shape, their broad sides facing the enemy. In the open center of the diamond but farther back, a larger coin centered on Dauntless also faced the enemy.
“Are the auxiliaries bait again?
“No. I’m trying to protect them. I’ve got them in the back of my part of the formation because I have to do something with them, and if the Syndics try to go after our auxiliaries there, they’ll have to run a very nasty gauntlet to get near them.”
He waited, everyone waited, as the minutes crawled by and the Syndics raced closer. Surely the Syndic commander wouldn’t simply charge up the middle. But the Syndic wasn’t maneuvering, wasn’t aiming for one part of the Alliance fleet. Twenty minutes to contact. Fifteen minutes to contact. Was the Syndic paralyzed with indecision, stupid, or carefully waiting until the last possible moment to shift his formation’s course?
It was getting too close, and the Syndic box could still veer up, down, or to the side against any single Alliance subformation. Geary knew he couldn’t wait any longer. He mentally split the difference between possible Syndic actions, figuring out Alliance maneuvers that were particularly tricky because of the way momentum would affect course vectors after changes in heading. Hoping he’d gotten it right, he called out orders. “Formation Echo Four Two, turn together and alter course to port zero eight five degrees up one zero degrees at time one five.” That would cause Echo Four Two to change from a flat formation like an onrushing wall with all ships facing forward, into a knife-edge with the ships facing the thin edge, slicing left and up across the space the Syndic flotilla should cross about the same time. “Formation Echo Four Three, turn together and alter course to starboard zero eight one degrees, down one zero degrees at time one six.” The same thing, only with the subformation on the left side of the diamond slicing to the right and down.
He had to take a breath before calling the next two orders. “Formation Echo Four Four, turn together and alter course up zero nine zero degrees at time one seven. Formation Echo Four Five, turn together and alter course down zero nine five degrees at time one eight.” That would bring the top and bottom of the diamond slashing across the center as well.
Now for the biggest single portion of the fleet, the large trailing formation containing Dauntless and the auxiliaries. “Formation Echo Four One, pivot down zero nine zero degrees around flagship Dauntless as guide and alter course up zero one zero degrees at time two zero. All units in the Alliance fleet fire missiles and hell lances as the enemy enters engagement envelopes.”
Desjani raised both eyebrows as she absorbed the orders. “If he keeps coming up the middle, we’ll nail him.”
“Let’s hope he does.” Geary stared at his display, where the Syndics were charging closer at tens of thousands of kilometers per second. His image of the enemy was now almost real-time, only a few seconds delayed by the time required for light to cross the distance between opposing forces. “Damn. There he goes.” The ships in the Syndic box had all angled upward slightly at the last possible moment, aiming to hit the Alliance subformation at the top of the diamond.
But that formation wasn’t there anymore, already turning, momentum carrying it in a wide curve down and toward the Syndics. A Syndic barrage of missiles followed by grapeshot tore toward the expected location of the Alliance subformation, but instead of meeting the Alliance ships the grapeshot met empty space. The Syndic missiles curved into stern chases, trying to catch up with targets that had dodged to one side.
But the Syndic flotilla had made a much smaller course change, so that successive Alliance subformations had crossed near the path of the Syndics moments before the enemy, volleying out missiles of their own. Most of the Alliance specters smashed into the leading edges of the Syndic formation, wreaking havoc with the lighter warships and pummeling the battleships and battle cruisers in that part of the Syndic box.
“Damn,” Geary repeated under his breath. The change in the Syndic course hadn’t been very big, but it had been enough. The Alliance subformations had avoided getting hit by the Syndics, but were also out of hell-lance range as the Syndics cleared the missile barrage. At least he hadn’t wasted any of his fleet’s limited supply of grapeshot.
The same wouldn’t be true as the Syndic box encountered the big trailing Alliance formation. The Alliance auxiliaries, which had been at the back of the formation, had pivoted to the top as the Alliance wall rotated flat and angled upward, protecting them from the fire of the Syndic warships that would pass just under the Alliance ships. “You called this one dead-on,” Desjani murmured, her eyes still fixed on her display.
“Maybe too close,” Geary replied, hastily triggering his command circuit. “Alliance ships in formation Echo Four One, employ all weapons, including grapeshot.”
Dauntless and the other Alliance warships with her hurled out their missiles, followed by tightly packed fields of ball bearings. The Syndic box actually had more warships in it than the Alliance formation with Dauntless, but almost every Alliance ship in the flat-coin formation could engage the Syndics, whereas only the upper layers of the Syndic box could fire on the enemy.
The warships in the upper part of the Syndic box staggered as they hit wave after wave of Alliance missiles, followed by wave after wave of grapeshot as the length of the enemy formation shot past under the length of the Alliance almost horizontal plane, the formations almost touching as the rear of the Alliance warships passed the enemy. The Syndics hadn’t had time to reload the missile launchers they’d used against the first Alliance subformation, but pumped out their own barrage of grapeshot.
In the tiny fraction of a second in which this was happening, hell lances also flashed out, hitting shields weakened by earlier hits and warships whose shields had suffered failures under the blows.
Geary knew he couldn’t take time to evaluate the results of the clash, so even as Dauntless was still shuddering from hits and her watch-standers were calling out damage reports, he sent out more orders. “Formation Echo Four Two, turn starboard one one zero degrees up zero two degrees at time two four. Formation Echo Four Three turn port one one eight degrees up one six degrees at time two four. Formation Echo Four Four turn starboard zero five degrees down one three one degrees at time two five. Formation Echo Four Five turn starboard zero eight degrees up one five two degrees at time two five.” He gasped a breath and kept going. “Formation Echo Four One, turn starboard zero three degrees up one six zero degrees at time two five.”
The combined maneuvers should all bring the five pieces of the Alliance fleet up, down, over, and around and back toward the Syndic box. As he saw what the Syndics were doing, he’d have to adjust his orders, but for now it was enough to order his ships onto the right general headings.
Finally, with a moment to check the results of the encounter, Geary steadied himself as he checked the ship status reports. Most of the Syndic missiles that had chased Formation Echo Four Five had been destroyed by Alliance defenses as they tried to catch up with their targets, but a number had made it through. The heavy cruiser Gusset had lost propulsion, the light cruisers Kote and Caltrop had been knocked out, the destroyer Flail blown apart by several hits, and the battle cruisers Intrepid and Courageous had suffered damage but were staying with the formation.
The brutal exchange of fire between Echo Four One and the Syndic box had cost the Syndics more than it had the Alliance, but the destroyers Ndziga and Tabar had been destroyed, the light cruiser Cercle riddled into wreckage, and the heavy cruisers Armet and Schischak both put out of commission. The scout battleship Braveheart had lost all of its propulsion and weapons and fallen away from the formation as well. Many other Alliance ships had taken damage, though the battleships had naturally suffered the least.
The front edges of the Syndic formation had taken the brunt of missile volleys, then the top had fought the close engagement with Echo Four One. The Alliance advantage in numbers had told, particularly against the most heavily outnumbered Syndic light cruisers and HuKs. Of the twenty-five light cruisers the Syndic force had entered the battle with, twelve were destroyed or too badly damaged to fight, while the Syndic’s forty-two HuKs had lost almost twenty of their number. Five Syndic heavy cruisers were out of the battle. Best of all, four Syndic battle cruisers were out of action, one destroyed and three badly torn up. In addition, one Syndic battleship had lost most of its propulsion and was falling back as the Syndic formation began curving to one side for another strike at the Alliance ships.
I bungled that, Geary thought bitterly. The Syndic commander reacted so late I couldn’t concentrate my attack properly.
Desjani seemed cheerful, though. “Look at the damage on them! They won’t be able to survive another run like that.”
Geary didn’t answer, focusing on the movement of the Syndics. They were still coming around in the huge turn necessary when ships were moving at point one light speed, but he felt certain they were aiming to hit Echo Four One again, perhaps hoping to get some shots at the Alliance auxiliaries this time. He snapped out orders to the other four formations, bringing them in to cross the track the Syndics would follow to intercept Echo Four One once more, his tone drawing a wary look from Desjani.
This time he’d guessed right. As the tattered Syndic box came toward Echo Four One from port and slightly below, the other four Alliance subformations ripped past close ahead of it in quick succession, each pass inflicting more damage on the leading Syndic units so that the front of the Syndic box kept getting shredded and replaced by the warships behind it. More enemy heavy cruisers, light cruisers, and HuKs exploded, broke apart, or simply fell away with critical systems destroyed. Two more Syndic battle cruisers reeled out of the formation, followed by a third, while the forwardmost Syndic battleships took more and more hits.
The Syndics could only hit back at each Alliance formation once, and while they scored some hits, they failed to inflict serious damage on any ships.
“Echo Four One,” Geary ordered harshly, “turn port zero eight degrees up one four degrees at time four three.”
The Syndic box kept on course. Either the Syndic commander hadn’t spotted the Alliance maneuver in time or his flagship had been damaged and couldn’t communicate orders quickly enough. The Alliance formation centered on Dauntless swept over the top edge of the frayed front of the Syndic box, this time able to repeatedly hit the Syndic ships there while taking much less fire in return.
Desjani uttered a small whoop of pleasure as a Syndic battleship exploded in the wake of Echo Four One’s firing pass, followed by the core overloads of another battleship and one of the surviving battle cruisers.
But Geary just stared at his display, trying to rebuild his picture of events and how to bring the different pieces of everything together again. The Syndics were coming around to starboard now, angling slightly down. Alliance fleet subformations were swinging outward on four widely different vectors, their distances from the flagship varying. Geary tried to keep it all straight, tried to coordinate the actions of his subformations, and found it slipping away. He’d been rattled by his failure to call the maneuvers right on the first pass, and now the movements and the necessary maneuvers through different levels of time delay had grown too hard to grasp. But he couldn’t just release the fleet for general pursuit. Not yet. All of his ships would swarm toward the Syndic flotilla in a wild melee that would drastically increase the risk of collision and negate a lot of his advantages in numbers and firepower. Nor could he count on handing the movements of the subformations over to the artificial intelligence in the maneuvering system, because that would focus on predictable highest-probability moves and therefore be predictable itself as well as probably in error.
He didn’t realize he was staring wordlessly at his display, trying to get his mind around the complexity of the situation, as precious seconds ticked by. But then Rione was hissing a question in his ear. “What’s wrong? Our losses aren’t that bad.”
“Too complicated,” Geary whispered. “Can’t coordinate . . .”
“Then trust your subordinates, Captain Geary!” Rione whispered back angrily. “Let the commanders of your subformations maneuver their own forces while you handle this one!”
Damn. She’s right. Why do I think I have to do this myself? I chose subformation commanders I could trust to do a good job, and now I’m not trusting them. “Captain Duellos, Captain Tulev, Captain Badaya, Captain Cresida, maneuver your subformations independently to engage the enemy.”
The complexity overwhelming him shrank to manageable levels as Geary’s problem narrowed down to maneuvering his own piece of the fleet and keeping an eye on what the other subformations were doing. He swallowed, feeling in control of the situation again, then realized he’d regained control of everything by not trying to control everything personally. Remember that. This isn’t a one-person show. You were starting to think you were Black Jack, weren’t you? he chided himself. “Echo Four One, turn port one seven five degrees, down two one degrees at time five seven.”
Absurdly, even though the battle was continuing, everyone on Dauntless’s bridge seemed to relax. It took Geary a moment to realize that his own anger and distress had been throwing off the others. He forced himself to look around with a smile. “Well done so far. Let’s finish the job.”
Captain Desjani completed ordering some priorities for repairing the damage Dauntless had taken in the first encounters with the enemy, then smiled at him like a lioness who was anticipating kills. “They should have run after the first pass. If we can get their formation to break now, their remaining units won’t last long.”
“Maybe we can help that along.” Geary gestured to Desjani. “Can I get a circuit up to contact the Syndic flotilla?”
Desjani raised one eyebrow, then pointed a finger at her communications watch-stander, who tapped rapidly for a moment and nodded in confirmation, holding up four fingers. “You have it, sir. Channel four.”
Letting out a calming breath, Geary activated the circuit, trying to speak with casual confidence. “To all warships in the Syndicate Worlds’ flotilla engaged with the Alliance fleet, this is Captain John Geary, acting commander of the Alliance fleet. You are doubtless expecting reinforcements in the form of the large Syndicate Worlds’ force this fleet encountered at Lakota about two weeks ago. Be advised that we destroyed that force in its entirety. It won’t be showing up here or anywhere else. I urge you to surrender now and avoid further senseless loss of life.”
That brought another smile from Desjani. “You’re probably going to hurt their morale.”
“That’s the idea.”
“I’ll see what more Dauntless can do to hurt them physically. ” Echo Four One had come around again, approaching the frayed Syndic formation at a high angle this time.
Before Echo Four One could reach the Syndics, Echo Four Three and Echo Four Five hit the front of the battered box again, leaving another enemy battleship drifting in their wake.
“Use the rest of the grapeshot,” Desjani ordered her combat-systems officer as Echo Four One and the Syndic formation raced toward each other again.
Another flash of contact, then Geary watched the fleet’s sensors evaluating damage to the Syndics as Echo Four Two and Echo Four Four came in from above and below the Syndic box. The three remaining Syndic battle cruisers had lost all shields and were lashing out frantically at extreme range as the next two Alliance subformations approached. Only six heavy cruisers remained with the box, the rest of their number scattered in various states of destruction along the path the Syndic formation had taken through space. Five light cruisers and a dozen HuKs also had survived. The core of the Syndic formation remained its battleships, five of which were still in good shape.
Geary barely had time to hope that the commanders of Echo Four Two and Echo Four Four didn’t push their luck too far against the five battleships when his subformations made their latest firing runs, tearing past so close to the Syndics that Geary felt a momentary spurt of fear.
In the wake of the latest Alliance assault, one more Syndic battleship staggered away from the box formation and two of the three battle cruisers were gone. But Courageous, Incredible, and Illustrious had taken serious damage, the heavy cruiser Gusoku had blown up, and the destroyers Cestus and Balta were also gone. “This battle is not going well,” Geary muttered to himself.
But Desjani heard. “The Syndics aren’t making mistakes, ” she agreed. “But it won’t save them. One more firing run—”
“They’re breaking!” the operations watch-stander shouted exuberantly.
“Thank you, Mr. Gaciones,” Desjani replied. “I can hear without you yelling.”
As the embarrassed watch-stander turned back to his duties, Geary watched on his display as what was left of the Syndic box finally disintegrated. Two of the battleships stayed together, and three HuKs clung to their protection, but every other Syndic ship bolted in different directions, seeking to outrun any Alliance pursuit.
That simplified things. “All ships in Echo Four Two, Echo Four Three, Echo Four Four, and Echo Four Five, general pursuit. Break formation and engage any enemy targets of opportunity. Echo Four One will engage the two battleships that have remained in company.”
Which was easier said than done given the time and space needed to turn the warships of Echo Four One, but the Syndic battleships were too close and too cumbersome to be able to outrun pursuit. As Echo Four One swung around, Geary watched the rest of his subformations fragment so fast it looked like they’d been blown apart by some huge blast. Individual Alliance warships locked on to Syndic warships and leaped onto firing runs, each surviving Syndic ship becoming the target of many Alliance strikes. On the display, the projected paths of the Alliance warships formed a tangled web from which the Syndics were frantically trying to escape.
“What the hell are Brilliant and Inspire doing?” Desjani demanded of no one in particular.
Geary looked. The two battle cruisers had broken away from their formation and from Opportune, the other battle cruiser in their division, and were accelerating toward intercepts with the two Syndic battleships. His anger at the costs of this engagement flared up again. We’ve already lost enough ships today, but those idiots are ignoring my orders and going one-on-one with battleships.
“They’ll get there well ahead of us,” Desjani protested, her disappointment clear. “But why? They can’t take down even one of those battleships on their own.”
“No,” Geary agreed. He tapped his controls harder than usual. “Brilliant, Inspire, this is Captain Geary. Break off your firing run on the pair of Syndic battleships.”
He waited. He checked the distance and how much time it would take his message to reach those two battle cruisers and for an answer to come. But no reply came, and both battle cruisers continued on their charge. Then he realized that Opportune had come around and was trying to catch up with Brilliant and Inspire as she also headed for an intercept of the Syndic battleships. This time he needed several slow breaths to calm himself before calling the ships again. “Brilliant, Inspire, and Opportune, you are ordered to immediately break off your firing pass on the two Syndic battleships.”
More time passed as Echo Four One lined up for its own run on the Syndic battleships. “There’s not enough time to get another message to them,” Desjani noted.
Geary felt his jaw hurting and tried to relax it as he watched three battle cruisers conducting a senseless charge against superior forces.
Brilliant and Inspire shot past the two Syndic battleships, concentrating their fire on one of the battleships and passing close enough to unleash their null fields as well as hell lances and what must be their last grapeshot. The shields on the targeted battleship flared repeatedly but held until the second null field penetrated enough to take a chunk out of one propulsion unit and slow the battleship.
But the Syndics had also concentrated their heavier fire, and Brilliant staggered away with very serious damage, its own propulsion systems shot up and most weapons out of commission.
Then Opportune came in alone, one battle cruiser facing the fire of two battleships. Syndic hell lances crashed the Alliance battle cruiser’s shields, then ripped into Opportune . Only momentum saved the ship as she tumbled away from the Syndic warships, horribly damaged.
“If Opportune’s commanding officer is still alive, I’m going to kill him,” Geary vowed, thinking of how many Alliance sailors must have just died on that ship for no reason.
“Six months ago I might have applauded him,” Desjani remarked in wondering tones. “Now I see how senseless it was. What’s the point of bravery that only aids the enemy in destroying you?” Her voice changed, hardening. “All right, Dauntless,” she called out to her bridge, “let’s make those Syndics sorry for what they did to Opportune.”
The three battle cruisers had weakened the shields on the Syndic battleships, though taking much worse harm in exchange. The warships of Echo Four One now hit the Syndics over and over again as the formation raced past, knocking the battleships’ shields out completely, the four Alliance battleships with Echo Four One administering the death-blows that turned one of the Syndic battleships into drifting wreckage and knocked out most of the systems on the other. “All warships in Echo Four One, general pursuit. Break formation and engage targets of opportunity.” Geary switched to an internal circuit. “Lieutenant Iger, I want to know if any of the escape pods out there hold any Syndic CEOs. See what you can find out.”
It had been a messy, painful battle. But the Alliance fleet had still paid far less than the Syndics. As he watched the wreck of Opportune tumble through space, Geary couldn’t find much comfort in that.
ELEVEN
“WE can’t save Opportune.” Captain Tyrosian shook her head unhappily. “Too much damage, too many systems out. Even if you wanted to tow her, we’d have to linger here for several days reinforcing damaged parts of the hull, or the ship would break apart.”
Geary checked a report that he’d already brought up, listing casualties in the fleet. Opportune’s commanding officer and executive officer were dead, along with close to 40 percent of the rest of her crew. He looked at the deck for a moment, not having to fight down anger now because he was filled with despair at the waste. Then he nodded. “We’ll scuttle her. Get anything off her that we can pull off easily and that we’ll need for the other battle cruisers. You’ve got four hours while the rest of the crew is evacuated.”
“Yes, sir. What about Braveheart?” Tyrosian asked. “We’re not sure why she’s still in one piece and expect what’s left to come apart at the first stress, but I have to ask.”
“Yeah. We’ll blow up Braveheart, too.” The scout battleship division was now down to a single ship, Exemplar. “How about the other badly damaged ships?”
Tyrosian frowned as she looked to one side, checking reports on her own display. “Heavy cruisers Gusset and Schischak are already under way again though they won’t be combat-capable for a while, and Gusset really needs a major yard period to repair her damage. Light cruiser Caltrop has lost a lot of systems but can keep up with the fleet. Four of the battle cruisers, Courageous, Illustrious, Brilliant, and Intrepid, have a lot of damage. Courageous and Brilliant in particular are barely combat-capable, but we’ve repaired enough propulsion units on them.”
“Thank you, Captain Tyrosian.” Geary slumped backward as Tyrosian’s image vanished, thinking about the fact that of the four battle cruisers Tyrosian had just mentioned, three were commanded by senior captains who were also in charge of battle-cruiser divisions. Clearly the old spirit of damn the grapeshot, full speed ahead was still alive and well even among people he thought knew better by now. At least the fact that the Alliance fleet had retained possession of the field of battle allowed those ships to be recovered. If the fleet had been forced to retreat, all four of those battle cruisers would have been lost, too.
His stateroom hatch alert chimed, and Captain Desjani entered, looking worn but triumphant. Geary had to remember that by the standards of battles in the last several decades even this victory he thought of as costly was actually quite cheap. “We’ve got a Syndic CEO, Captain Geary,” Desjani reported. “Not the one in overall command, who died on one of the battle cruisers that blew up, but her second in command.”
“I guess we should be grateful that a Syndic commander who made so few mistakes won’t be around to fight anymore, ” Geary noted. “How badly was Dauntless hurt?”
Desjani’s triumph faded into pain. “Twenty-five dead, three others critically injured, but we hope we can save them. We lost an entire hell-lance battery, and I’m not sure we can get it working again no matter how much duct tape and prayer we use.”
Geary nodded, feeling a little numb. “If you want anyone off Opportune to make up for Dauntless’s losses, let me know.”
This time Desjani grimaced. “Opportune is a write-off? Damn. I saw that her captain is dead.”
“Thanks to following the example of Captains Caligo and Kila on Brilliant and Inspire,” Geary added bitterly.
“If I may ask, sir, what are you thinking of doing about that?”
He gave her a searching look. It sounded like Desjani had carefully phrased her question. “I have a nasty suspicion that you’re going to tell me that the fleet thinks they did something admirable.”
Desjani hesitated, then nodded. “Yes, sir. Closing on the enemy with no regard for the odds, that sort of thing. In the eyes of the fleet, they were justified in disregarding your orders.”
“Meaning the fleet would be appalled if I disciplined them.” Geary shook his head. “I thought . . .”
“That we’d learned?” Desjani asked. “We are learning, sir. But we need to keep that spirit of being willing to fight no matter what, too. And you know how hard it can be to change what you believe in. This is the opposite of what Casia and Yin did. They disobeyed orders so they could avoid battle. Caligo and Kila disobeyed orders so they could fight. Everyone condemned Casia and Yin, but if you try to treat Caligo and Kila as if they did the same, very few will agree with you. I respectfully suggest you tread carefully in dealing with them, sir.”
“Yeah. Thanks for the good advice.” A very-high-profile action during a battle, one designed to draw admiration from the fleet as a whole, and one which lured a fellow ship to its destruction as the price of that admiration. He didn’t like where that line of thought led, that Caligo’s and Kila’s behavior bore some disturbing resemblances to the thinking of whoever had planted worms in the fleet. But that wasn’t even close to being evidence of their involvement in that sabotage. He needed to think this through, discuss it with Rione. “It’s not like I didn’t make plenty of mistakes myself this time.”
Desjani frowned at him. “The first pass didn’t work out perfectly, but everything else went right.” He didn’t answer, and she frowned deeper. “Sir, you keep telling me that you’re not perfect, but right now I can tell that you’re condemning yourself for not being perfect. With all due respect, you’re being inconsistent and overly hard on yourself.”
For some reason Geary found himself smiling crookedly at her. “With all due respect? How would you say that if you weren’t being respectful?”
“I’d tell you that you were being an idiot and that you can’t afford to let a misstep destroy your confidence. Sir. Which of course I’m not saying.”
“Because that wouldn’t be respectful?” Geary asked. “It sounds like something I should listen to, though. Thanks. Where’s this Syndic CEO?”
“His escape pod was picked up by Kururi, which is bringing him to Dauntless.”
“Good. Please ask Lieutenant Iger to let me know when our visitor is ready for a chat with me. I’d like you there, too.” Desjani nodded. “And Co-President Rione.”
Desjani’s expression closed down completely. “Yes, sir.”
He’d figured out that when Desjani said “yes, sir” to him, it could mean a lot of different things, but agreement wasn’t one of them. “Tanya, she’s an important ally. She understands things we don’t. She’s a politician. This Syndic we’re going to be dealing with is also a politician.”
“So they speak the same language,” Desjani stated in a way that made it clear that she thought Rione and the Syndic CEO shared many other qualities. “I understand why she might be useful, then. I will inform Lieutenant Iger of your wishes, sir.”
THE Syndic CEO in the interrogation room was doing his best to put up a good front, doubtless worried that video of him might be broadcast to the Syndicate Worlds for propaganda purposes. His impeccably tailored uniform bore signs of the CEO’s escape from his last ship, and his appearance was rumpled even though his haircut still looked like it had cost as much as a destroyer. Geary glanced at Lieutenant Iger. “Find out anything?”
Iger nodded, a small smile showing. “Yes, sir. He didn’t say anything, of course, but I tracked his reactions, including his brain scans as he listened to my questions. He denied knowing anything about an alien intelligence, but I saw fear spikes when I asked.”
“Fear?”
“Yes, sir,” Iger repeated firmly. “No doubt at all. This CEO, at least, is frightened of those things.”
“Are we sure it’s not the question that frightened him?” Rione asked. “The possibility that he might give away a very important secret?”
“Or just that we know enough to ask the question,” Desjani added.
Iger nodded respectfully to both women. “I asked the question different ways, Madam Co-President, and watched exactly what parts of his brain lit up. Captain Desjani, his nervousness did increase a great deal when I started asking those questions, but that registered differently than just concern over us knowing. See these records?” The lieutenant tapped controls and brought up images of the Syndic CEO’s brain, images that hovered in the air before them. “See here? That’s the area concerned with personal safety. This area reacts to deception planning, which is when he’s working out a lie. You can see how as I asked variations on the questions, his reactions differed.” The images flared and dimmed in different areas. “He’s got a very deep-seated fear when the topic is raised, something that triggers some of the most ancient portions of the human mind.”
“Fear of the unknown, fear of the stranger?” Geary asked.
“That sort of thing, yes, sir,” Iger agreed.
“But outwardly he’s claiming to know nothing.”
“Yes, sir.”
Geary looked over at Rione and Desjani. “I think I should go in there and talk to him. Lieutenant Iger can monitor his reactions. Should one or both of you go with me?”
Desjani shook her head. “I’d rather watch from here, sir. It’s hard enough to keep from busting through that wall and locking my hands around the neck of that Syndic bastard as it is.”
Rione frowned, though in thought rather than directing the expression at Desjani. “I think you should try just you first, Captain Geary. One-on-one, he may be a little more prone to speak. If it seems right, I can always come in and apply whatever pressure or encouragement an Alliance politician can add.”
“All right.” Iger came close to him and, with a mumbled apology, carefully attached something tiny behind one of Geary’s ears. “What’s that?”
“A short-range comm link operating on a frequency that won’t interfere with the interrogation equipment,” Iger explained. “We’ll provide you with whatever the equipment shows of the Syndic’s reactions as you speak to him. It’s effectively invisible, though if the CEO knows anything at all about interrogations, he’ll assume you’ve got a link to whoever is monitoring him.”
A few seconds later, Geary stepped into the interrogation room, sealing the hatch behind him. The CEO sat in one of the two chairs the room boasted, both fastened securely to the deck. As Geary walked toward him, the CEO stood up, his movements abrupt with fear. “I am an officer of the Syndicate Worlds, and—”
Geary held up one hand palm out in a forestalling gesture, and the CEO broke off his speech but remained standing. “I’ve heard variations on that plenty of times,” Geary informed the CEO. “It doesn’t seem to have changed much in the last century.”
That made the CEO twitch slightly in spite of himself. “I’m aware that you have identified yourself as Captain John Geary, but—”
“But, nothing,” Geary broke in. “I know your superiors have already done a positive ID on me and confirmed who I am.” He sat down, trying to look totally confident, and gestured the CEO to sit again. After a moment, the CEO did, his body staying stiff. “It’s past time we stopped playing games, CEO Cafiro. These particular games have cost both the Alliance and the Syndicate Worlds terribly in terms of lives lost and resources wasted in a war you can’t hope to win.”
“The Syndicate Worlds will not yield,” the CEO insisted.
“And neither will the Alliance. After almost a century, I assume everybody has figured that one out. So what’s the point? What are you fighting for, CEO Cafiro?”
Cafiro gave Geary a worried look. “For the Syndicate Worlds.”
“Really?” Geary leaned forward slightly. “Then why are you doing what the alien intelligence on the other side of Syndicate Worlds’ space wants you to do?”
The CEO stared at Geary. “There isn’t any such thing.”
Lie, Lieutenant Iger’s voice came to Geary like a whisper in his ear.
He hadn’t really needed that to know it was a lie. “I won’t bother going through all of the evidence we’ve acquired. Some of it the Syndicate Worlds probably aren’t aware of.” Let the Syndic CEO worry about that. “But we know they’re there, and we know the Executive Council of the Syndicate Worlds made a deal with them to attack the Alliance, and we know the aliens double-crossed your Executive Council and instead left you to fight us alone.” That all added up to a lot of educated guesses rather than known facts, but Geary wasn’t going to admit uncertainty at this point.
The Syndic stared back at him, and even Geary could spot the outward signs of his distress without the help of Iger’s equipment. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Partial lie, but he also seemed shocked when you mentioned the double cross. He may not have been aware of that.
Geary gave the Syndic CEO a doubtful look and shook his head. “I understand your name is Niko Cafiro. Second Level Executive Grade. That’s fairly high-ranking.” CEO Cafiro watched Geary with obvious wariness but stayed silent. “High-ranking enough to be second in command of the flotilla we destroyed in this star system.” This time the Syndic’s eyes reflected anger and fear. “We’ve pretty much evened the odds, CEO Cafiro,” Geary stated. “The Syndicate Worlds can’t confront us with overwhelming superiority right now. We’ve destroyed too many of your ships in the last few months.”
He’s hiding something, Iger’s voice whispered. When you spoke of how many ships the Syndics had, it triggered a cascade of mental reactions.
Meaning what? That more Syndic ships than expected were actually out there, or that this CEO was just thinking about the battles in which the Syndics had lost so many ships and not wanting to show any reaction that might confirm Geary’s statement? “We’re close to the border with the Alliance,” Geary continued. “A few more jumps, and we’ll be in a Syndicate Worlds’ border system. From there we’ll get home.”
That finally drew an overt reaction. “Your fleet will be destroyed.”
“I’m going to get this fleet home,” Geary repeated evenly.
“Everything the Syndicate Worlds has left will meet you in one of the border star systems and stop you,” Cafiro insisted, though his voice lacked conviction. “This fleet won’t make it back to Alliance space.”
“Maybe they’ll meet me,” Geary agreed. “But the Syndicate Worlds haven’t had a lot of luck with stopping this fleet so far. Besides, you know as well as I do that I don’t need to get the entire fleet home to tip the balance in this war. I only need to get one ship back to Alliance space. The ship carrying the key to the Syndicate Worlds’ hypernet.” CEO Cafiro couldn’t stop a flinch. “You don’t know which ship that is. How are the Syndicate Worlds going to stop that one ship from jumping for Alliance space? And once that one ship gets home,” Geary emphasized, leaning a bit closer, “the Alliance will be able to duplicate that key, and the Syndicate Worlds will have to destroy their gates one by one to keep the Alliance from using them. It grants the Alliance a huge advantage, and you know what can happen when a hypernet gate is destroyed, don’t you?”
It had been a shot in the dark, but Cafiro looked away, visibly upset. “I thought Effroen should have been told.”
“Effroen?”
“The CEO directing the forces left to defend Lakota. She had orders to keep you from using the hypernet gate at all costs, but even though those of us with some inside knowledge of what had happened at Sancere were worried about what would happen if Lakota’s hypernet gate was destroyed, we were overruled.”
He seems to be sincere, Iger advised Geary. There’s some anger spikes as memory areas light up, consistent with recalling events that upset him.
Geary nodded at the Syndic. “Your superiors seem to be willing to run a lot of risks. Very big risks, like the one that got this fleet trapped deep in Syndic territory.”
It . . . it wasn’t my plan.”
“The ambush in the Syndicate Worlds’ home system? The double traitor who offered the Alliance fleet that hypernet key so it would rush into the ambush?”
“Yes! I never would have taken such a risk.”
Geary shook his head. “It looked like a sure thing. You’d have taken it. But it backfired.”
“Because of you!” Cafiro yelled, suddenly red-faced and openly furious. “If you hadn’t shown up—” He stopped speaking, his flush fading rapidly as his face paled with fear.
“Yeah,” Geary agreed. “I showed up.” The Syndic CEO swallowed and stared at him. “Let’s think about it. Someone, if that’s the right word for members of an intelligent nonhuman species, tricked the Syndicate Worlds into starting this war. Your Executive Council screwed up royally and has refused to admit it. Now, the Alliance will soon have the means to nullify the Syndicate Worlds’ hypernet system because your Executive Council screwed up royally again. They started the war, and now they’re about to lose it. And you’re remaining loyal to them when you could be talking about ways to minimize the damage.”
Cafiro plainly did think about it, his eyes shifting before he finally spoke. “Are you . . . negotiating?”
“I’m just asking you to consider alternatives.”
“For the good of the Syndicate Worlds.”
“Right.” Geary nodded, keeping his face calm.
“You want the war to end?” Cafiro challenged.
“You and I both know that humanity faces another enemy. Maybe it’s about time we stopped killing each other the way that enemy has tricked us into doing.”
More thinking, Cafiro avoiding Geary’s eyes again for several seconds. “How can we know you’ll keep your word?”
“There’s proof of that in every star system this fleet has traversed since we left the Syndic home system. Don’t try to pretend you haven’t heard.”
CEO Cafiro pushed his palms tightly together, pressing the tips of his fingers to his mouth as he thought again. “It’s not enough. Not now. I tell you honestly, as long as there’s any chance that you can be stopped, no one will move against the current membership of the Executive Council.”
He’s telling the truth, Lieutenant Iger reported in an astonished voice.
“And when this fleet does make it home?”
The Syndic CEO eyed Geary. “Then the failure will be huge, the costs incalculable, the consequences too serious to contemplate. Even then, the current membership of the Executive Council won’t negotiate. They can’t afford to because that would assign the failure to them.”
Geary nodded, remembering how Rione had stated the same thing.
“But,” Cafiro added, his face hard, “after something like that, the rest of the Syndicate Worlds would not be willing to sacrifice themselves to protect the Executive Council from its failures.”
Ask him if that means revolt, or new members of the Council, Rione urged.
Geary nodded as if to Cafiro, but also to Rione’s words. “Are you saying there’d be a revolt, or that we’d be dealing with new members of the Council?”
Cafiro’s eyes shifted. “I don’t know.”
Lie, Iger advised.
“Let’s say it’s new members,” Geary pressed. “Will they be willing to negotiate an end to this war?”
“Under those conditions? I think so. Depending on the terms.”
Truth, Iger stated.
“Would they work with us to deal with the aliens and stop pretending they don’t exist?”
“Yes, I—” Cafiro flushed red again, this time with apparent self-anger at having finally blurted out an admission that he knew of the aliens.
“We both already knew the truth,” Geary said. “We want the same thing. An end to a senseless war and a united front against something that threatens humanity. That should be grounds for working together.”
The CEO nodded once.
Appeal to his self-interest! Rione demanded. Not the best interests of humanity or the Syndicate Worlds! His self-interest! He didn’t become a Syndic CEO by being self-sacrificing!
She had a point. Geary forced a small smile. “Of course, when I speak of working together, I’m talking about with someone we know. Someone who understands the issues.”
His brain’s reward centers are lighting up, Iger observed.
Cafiro nodded again, this time much more firmly. “As you say, we need to think in terms of mutual benefit.”
“Naturally,” Geary replied in an even voice, though he wanted to spit. Why couldn’t Rione have done this directly? But she would have been tarred like any other current Alliance leader with all the hatred and distrust engendered by decade after decade of war. He, the outsider even now, had a different status. But he didn’t know the right words, and Rione wasn’t feeding them to him, maybe assuming he’d somehow know them. Maybe he did. Geary dredged up memories of a superior officer he’d suffered under for a few years, a man who had nearly driven him from the fleet with his politicking and attempts to manipulate those around him. He just had to remember the sort of things that he had said. “The Alliance needs the right people to work with,” Geary stated, emphasizing the word “right” just enough.
Cafiro almost smiled, but his eyes lit with eagerness. “Yes. I know others who could work with me. With us.”
Cafiro favored Geary with a tense smile. “Of course, there’s not much I can do as a prisoner.”
“It seems we understand each other.” More than Geary wanted to. But then this particular Syndic CEO had been ambitious and power-driven, or he wouldn’t have been second in command of that flotilla. It followed that he’d react this way when offered the sort of deal Geary had implied. Other Syndic CEOs, perhaps less self-centered and more loyal to things other than their personal bottom line (like the CEO in charge of Cavalos Star System), would be far better leaders to deal with. But Geary had to use the weapons he had available.
Even very distasteful weapons. Weapons that were negotiating for their own freedom but hadn’t bothered yet to ask about the fates of other Syndic survivors from the flotilla that had been destroyed. Geary tried to keep his face calm even as he sympathized with Desjani’s desire to choke this Syndic CEO until his eyes popped. “I think it will benefit all concerned if you are released.” Before I decide to let Desjani in here so we can strangle you together. He couldn’t resist mentioning the other Syndic survivors in a pointed reminder. “We’ve taken no other prisoners here. Some of the escape pods from destroyed Syndicate Worlds’ warships are damaged but appear able to reach safety.”
“Ah . . . of course,” Cafiro agreed after a brief hesitation.
“The Syndicate Worlds will be hearing from us, CEO Cafiro. After this fleet gets home.” Geary stood up to end the conversation and left the room.
“He’s nervous,” Lieutenant Iger remarked when Geary rejoined the others. “Doubtless wondering whether he’s really going to be released.”
“Will he really stir up trouble for the Syndics if we let him go?” Geary asked Iger and Rione. Both of them nodded. “Then get him off this ship, please, Lieutenant Iger.”
“Yes, sir. He’ll be back in his escape pod and relaunched within half an hour.”
Geary led Desjani and Rione out of the intelligence spaces. “I think I’d rather deal with the aliens,” he remarked, not sure how much he was joking.
“You might,” Rione replied with absolute seriousness. “If our speculations are right, these aliens acted against us and the Syndics because of their experiences with the Syndic leadership. They might simply want to be left alone or to feel secure against us. Remove the threat of human aggression, and those aliens would have an immense amount of space available to them on their other borders.”
Desjani, talking as if speaking to herself, gazed down the passageway. “Unless there’s something else on their other borders.”
Geary frowned, then felt a sudden pang of worry. “If there’s one nonhuman intelligence out there . . .”
“There could be more. Almost certainly are more,” Desjani murmured. She looked at Geary. “We have to understand this enemy, and that’s a very important possibility. They might feel penned between potential foes. They might even be fighting a war or wars unimaginably far away from our own battles with the Syndics. Maybe they need to keep us tied down because of that, because they need to protect their flanks. Maybe that means we’ve got potential allies against these creatures. Or even worse potential enemies.”
Rione looked like she’d swallowed something unpleasant. “That’s a real possibility. We have no way of knowing if it’s true. There’s too damned much we don’t know.”
“We’ve learned a lot. We’ll learn more.” He hoped that was true, anyway.
THE expanding balls of debris that had been the wrecks of Opportune, Braveheart, the heavy cruiser Armet, and the light cruiser Cercle were well behind the Alliance fleet now as it proceeded toward the jump point for Anahalt and Dilawa. Geary had kept the fleet’s speed down to point zero four light to make it easier for badly damaged ships like Courageous and Brilliant to keep up, hoping they’d soon get more propulsion units repaired. No more attempts to plant worms in fleet systems had occurred. Geary wondered if that was because those responsible for the earlier attempts were busy dealing with damage to their ships, or were trying to find new ways to plant the worms, or were rethinking that tactic after the previous attempts had backfired by alienating most of the fleet. It seemed very unlikely that they’d given up.
He still wasn’t certain which star to jump to next. Nor did he feel like thinking of that at the moment. The fleet had lost a lot of personnel as well as several ships in the latest battle. He’d spent a long time in the fleet at peace, a hundred years ago, and fought one hopeless battle before going into survival sleep. Others had fought countless battles during the next century, growing accustomed to losing ships and men and women in large numbers. Geary had kept trying to avoid dealing with that but realized he couldn’t keep it up. He had to accept the cost that even victories required, and he needed to call up the personnel records, which would tell him the private prices the people he knew now had paid before he had known them. He owed that to them.
Geary called up the personnel files and read through them. Captain Jaylen Cresida. Home world Madira. Her first fleet assignment had been as gunnery officer on the destroyer Shakujo. Married five years ago to another fleet officer. Widowed three years ago when her husband had died aboard the battle cruiser Invincible when the ship was destroyed while defending the Alliance star system of Kana against a Syndic attack. Not the same Invincible that this fleet had lost at Ilion, but the previous ship to bear that same name.
Cresida had told him that if she died, she had someone waiting for her.
Geary closed his eyes for a moment, trying to dull the pain inside as he read the dry report. Then he read more, forcing himself to confront the costs of this war that had changed the Alliance he knew and helped forge the personalities of the people around him.
Cresida’s mother and brother were also casualties of the war, the mother dead when Jaylen had been only twelve. The older brother had died a year before Cresida joined the fleet. Not wanting to tally the losses through the generation before that, Geary stopped looking back through the file.
Steeling himself, Geary pulled up Captain Duellos’s file. His wife was a research scientist in a star system safely back from the front line, but Duellos’s father and an uncle had died in the war. His oldest daughter would be eligible for call-up by the draft next year.
Captain Tulev had lost his wife and three children to a Syndic bombardment of their home world.
And Captain Desjani. She’d told him that her parents were still both alive, and that was so. Desjani did also have the uncle she’d spoken of a few times. But she’d never mentioned the aunt who’d died in ground fighting on a Syndic world. Nor the younger brother dead six years ago in his first combat engagement.
He remembered the young Syndic boy with whom Desjani had spoken when the refugees from Wendig were brought aboard, the way Desjani had treated the boy and the way she’d looked at him as he moved to defend his family. Had she seen her little brother in that boy?
Geary spent a long time staring at the display, then punched in the other commands he’d never had the nerve to face. The records of what had happened to his family.
Gearys popped up. A lot of them. He’d left no wife or children behind, something for which he’d often given thanks. But he’d had a brother and a sister, cousins, an aunt. Most of them had children. Many of those had ended up in the fleet. Geary remembered his grandnephew’s bitter words, that it was expected that Gearys would join the fleet. A lot of them had done that, and a lot had died.
He was still sitting there, trying to take it in, when his hatch alarm sounded. “Come in.”
Captain Desjani entered, then halted, watching him. “What’s wrong?”
“Just . . . reviewing some files.”
She hesitated for only a moment, then came around behind him to read over his shoulder. Desjani was silent for so long that Geary began wondering what to do, then he heard her speak softly. “Haven’t you seen these before?”
“No. I didn’t want to.”
“We’ve all paid a price in this war. Your family has paid more than its share.”
“Because of me,” Geary ground out. Desjani didn’t answer, apparently unwilling to deny something she had to know was true. “Why didn’t you ever tell me about your brother?”
She was quiet again for a while. “It’s not something I talk about.”
“I’m very, very sorry. You know I would’ve listened.”
The reply took a moment to come. “Yes, and I know you would’ve understood. But I thought you had enough things to worry about. My family’s losses aren’t special.”
“Yes, they are,” Geary objected. “Every single person is special. A hundred years of this, a century of life after life cut short in a war that’s gone nowhere. What a damned waste.”
“Yes.” He felt Desjani’s hand rest on his shoulder and squeeze lightly, the gesture of a comrade sharing pain, and maybe something more.
Geary brought his own hand up to cover hers and grip it. “Thanks.”
“You need everything we can give you.”
Suddenly it all felt like too much. His responsibilities, the pain the war had brought to so many, the feelings for Desjani that he had to keep as hidden as possible. He had to get Dauntless home, he had to get that Syndic hypernet key back to the Alliance, but he had to do so much more as well. People expected him to do so much more. Geary felt as if he would drown under the pressure, his only lifeline the hand resting on his shoulder. He dropped his grasp and stood up, facing her. “Tanya . . .”
“Yes,” she repeated, though he wasn’t sure if she knew what it was he couldn’t say, or if she knew and was trying to deflect it. “It’s so much for one man to carry. You will end it, though,” Desjani stated firmly. “You’ll end this war, you’ll save this fleet and the Alliance.”
Every word felt like a nail in his coffin. “For the love of my ancestors, please don’t give me that speech!”
“It’s not a speech,” Desjani insisted.
“Yes, it is! It’s a fantasy about who I am and what I can do!”
“No. It’s true. Look what you’ve done already!” Desjani gestured to the display. “You can stop this. I know it must be hard to be chosen by the living stars for such a mission, but you can do it!”
“You have no idea how it feels to have that kind of demand placed on you!“
“I see the effect it has on you, but I know you can handle it. You wouldn’t have been chosen otherwise.”
“Maybe somebody made a mistake!” Geary almost yelled. “Maybe I’m not able to save the entire damned universe by myself!”
“You’re not alone!” Desjani was clearly upset now, her face as she gazed at him twisted with hope, fear, and something deeper, all jumbled together.
“It sure feels like it!” Geary swung his own angry hand toward the display now behind him. “All of those dead, and people expecting me to end that. How can anyone accomplish that? I can’t do this!” Had he ever actually said those last four words to anyone, or had the thought only echoed inside him since he’d been forced to assume command of this fleet?
“What else do you need from me?” she asked desperately. “Of course you need help. Tell me, and it’s yours. I’ll do anything.” Desjani looked appalled as the last words slipped out, and she stared at Geary.
His despair drained away as Geary stared back at her. Something that had been at least partly hidden now lay in the open between them. “Anything?”
“I didn’t—” She swallowed and spoke with obviously forced calm. “I’m without honor now. I know that.”
“Stop it, Tanya. You’ve got honor to spare.”
“An honorable woman would not feel this way about her commanding officer! She wouldn’t speak of it. She would not be willing to—” Desjani bit off her words and stared frantically at Geary again.
He could reach out and have her. Right this very moment. Geary looked down at his hands, thinking of the price so many others had already paid. He’d been willing to use Victoria Rione when she’d offered herself to him, just as Rione had used him. But he couldn’t do that to Tanya Desjani. Even though Desjani and almost everyone else would excuse him for it, justifying to themselves whatever was done by the hero sent from the past. But he couldn’t do that to her. The very thought of it revolted him. That, more than anything, told him that his feelings for her were real, that he wasn’t just reaching out again for any safe port when the storms of his responsibilities grew too rough. “I won’t take your honor,” he whispered.
“You already have it,” Desjani replied in agonized tones.
“No. I’ll take nothing from you that you don’t freely choose to give.”
“It’s given. I swear I didn’t seek that, I swear I tried to fight it, but it has happened.”
Geary looked up again and saw her despair. “Either we’ll live to reach Alliance space, or we’ll die on the way. If we live . . .”
Desjani nodded. “I can resign my commission. It won’t be enough to return my honor or erase the burden I’ve put on your own, but—”
“Resign your commission? Tanya, you live to be a fleet officer! You love it! I can’t allow you to give that up on my account!”
“An officer who cannot carry out her duties according to regulations is required to—” Desjani began, her face now stiff.
“I’ll resign,” Geary broke in. “As soon as we get home. I never wanted this responsibility, and once I get this fleet home, no one can demand more of me. Once I’m no longer a fleet officer, your honor can’t be questioned, and—”
“No!” Desjani now appeared horrified as she gazed at him. “You can’t! You have a mission!”
“I never asked or wanted—”
“It was given to you! Because the living stars knew you could do it!” Desjani backed away, shaking her head. “I can’t allow my feelings to influence you this way. Too many people are depending upon you. If I caused you to shirk that mission, I would surely be damned by them and deserving of it. Say you won’t do that. Say you didn’t mean it.” He looked back at her silently. “Say it! If you do not, I swear I shall get this ship home to Alliance space, then go as far from you as human space allows!” Geary struggled for words, and Desjani took another step backward. “If the temptation I offer you has to be removed from this ship now, I’ll do that. I’ll do whatever I must.”
He finally found his voice again. “No. Please. You’re Dauntless’s commanding officer. You belong on her. I . . . I promise you I won’t resign until this war is over.” The words felt acidic in his mouth, the thing he had never wanted to accept even though he knew so many expected it of him.
“Your promise should not be to me,” Desjani replied, her face and voice calmer now.
“It is,” he insisted. “I’ve avoided making it because it scared the hell out of me. But the thought of not seeing you scared me more. Congratulations.”
“I . . . I didn’t—”
“No, you didn’t. You never would have tried to manipulate me on purpose.” Unlike Victoria Rione, he realized. “I made the choice. I’ll carry out the mission. As long as you don’t resign your commission. I need you with me if I’m going to have any chance of succeeding. And when my mission is done, and I’m no longer in command of this fleet, I’ll finally say the words that I wish I could say to you now.”
Desjani nodded to him. “Thank you, Captain Geary. I knew you’d do what you had to do.”
“As opposed to what I want to do right now.” Amazingly, she laughed. “If you and I did what we wanted to do at this very moment, we’d be different people. But hard as it is, I must stand here instead of stepping closer to you. Much closer. No. You have my honor, I have your promise. If the gift of my honor gives you the strength to do what you must, it’s a small price for me to pay.”
“You think of it as a price, then?” Geary asked.
Desjani nodded as her laughter faded. “My honor is the thing of greatest value that I possess. That I used to possess. I know you will not use it against me, and I know it is safe in your hands. But there have been times when it felt like my honor was all I had left. I regret losing it.”
“Then I promise you that I will keep your honor safe until I can return it.”
“But . . . it was given. To my shame . . . but it was given.” Geary shook his head. “I want to return your honor, and you want me to keep it. There’s a way to do both if that’s what you want.”
“How could I have both—?” She seemed shocked, looking away for a moment before focusing back on him. “You mean that?”
“I can’t come out and say how I feel, just like you can’t, not until this war is over and I’m no longer your commanding officer, but I swear on the honor of my ancestors that I meant it.”
Desjani blinked, swallowed again, then gave Geary a stern look. “You must know something, Captain John Geary. Right now you are my fleet commander, and I do as you say and defer to you. You are on a divine mission, and while that lasts, I will follow you to hell itself on your command. But when all is done and the war is over, a man would come to me with my honor and himself. Not like any other man, not even then, but a man, and I will not be subordinate to any man in my own life or my own home. I will only have a man as a partner, an equal, to be beside me in all things. Any man must agree to that if he someday wishes to share a life with Tanya Desjani.”
Geary nodded. “Any man who really knew Tanya Desjani would gladly commit to those conditions and promise to honor them.”
She gazed back at him, then smiled. “It is very hard, and I fear that it’ll be harder still before all is done. But when the day comes that your mission is fulfilled, I will accept my honor back and all that comes with it.”
All he had to do was get the fleet the rest of the way home and win the war that had been raging for a century. But he’d never thought he could get this far, do what he’d been able to do. If he could somehow end the war, end the deaths . . .
And, for the first time since he’d been awakened from survival sleep, he knew without any doubt that he had something other than duty to live for. They’d talked around it, they might never again discuss it even indirectly while the war lasted, but they each knew how the other felt and what they’d promised each other. “In that case, Captain Desjani, let’s take a look at the star display and figure out our next move on the way home. We’ve got a fleet to save and a war to end.”
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THE LOST FLEET: VALIANT
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