Courageous

FIVE

All things being equal, the transit through Daiquon to the jump point for Ixion should have required about five and a half days. The five substantial objects in orbit about the star Daiquon consisted of four barely planet-sized rocks and one massive supergiant that was just shy of enough mass to become a star in its own right. The small Syndic installations that had once occupied one of the rocks were all cold and had probably been mothballed long ago. There was absolutely no reason to linger in Daiquon and nothing capable of delaying the fleet.

But the Alliance heavy cruiser Brilliant had been so badly hurt during the brief engagement that Geary had to slow the entire formation while Brilliant’s main propulsion units received emergency repairs. The only alternative to that was leaving Brilliant behind, and he wasn’t about to do that.

But there wasn’t any choice when it came to the destroyers Sword-Breaker and Machete. Both had been so badly chewed up that only a major shipyard could have repaired them. Geary had the crews taken off and the ships’ power cores set to overload, turning both destroyers into slowly expanding balls of wreckage to join those already littering Daiquon as a result of the destruction of the Syndic warships. His other ships could use the officers and sailors from the lost destroyers, but it still hurt morale to have to scuttle two ships.

A score of other destroyers, three more light cruisers, and one more heavy cruiser had joined the three battleships in the makeshift division of badly damaged ships near the auxiliaries division. Geary tried to salve the pride of those ships by officially designating them a close support escort force for the auxiliaries, but he feared their unhappiness with being assigned to a place far from the front of any battle would breed further problems down the line. They’ll be upset, even though it’s the only decision that makes any sense. But then what about war has anything to do with making sense?

Geary closed his eyes, trying to block out the images of dying ships and their crews. His stateroom was very quiet, only the faint sounds that spoke of Dauntless being a living ship penetrating the bulkheads to provide familiar comfort. Vent fans humming as they distributed and cooled air, pumps churning as liquids went here and there, barely audible voices of members of the crew passing near, perhaps accompanied by the low rumble of a transport cart. For how many centuries had sailors heard those sounds around them? Before that there had been the creaking of wood and rigging on ships that used sails to carry them across planetary oceans. Ships were never completely silent, not while they lived.

“Captain Geary? This is Lieutenant Iger in the intelligence section.”

He hit the comm pad to accept the call. “This is Geary. What’ve you got?”

“We’ve analyzed the communications between the survival pods from the Syndic warships we destroyed, and as far as we can tell, all of the senior officers died on their ships. None of the pods seem to contain anyone who’s trying to assert authority or coordinating activity.”

No sense in diverting any of his own ships to pick up prisoners who wouldn’t know anything useful. “Are they all still headed for the mothballed installation in this system?”

“Yes, sir,” Iger confirmed. “There’s no place else for them to go.”

“How long can they survive on what’s in the pods and whatever’s at that base?” So far, the Alliance fleet had found either emergency rations or simply food abandoned in place, frozen on airless worlds, at every derelict Syndic facility they’d examined.

“The pods contain enough provisions for a couple of weeks, assuming they’re all full of survivors. They can stretch that, of course. Even if most of the ships were supposed to stay here to see if we showed up, Syndic procedure is to send a courier ship to report mission completion, in this case laying the minefields. When the enemy leaders in the nearby systems don’t hear from the warships in Daiquon, they’ll send someone to check on them. There may already be a ship on the way.”

“Okay. Thanks.” No sense in diverting a ship to pick up any pods containing Syndic sailors. He could make sure this fleet sent a message to the Syndic authorities on the inhabited world in Ixion Star System when they got there, ensuring the Syndics knew they had people awaiting rescue here.

Geary tried to drop back into his reverie, but an instant later his hatch alert chimed. “Come in,” Geary called resignedly without opening his eyes.

After a short interval, he heard a dry voice. “Congratulations on another victory.”

Geary’s eyes shot open. Victoria Rione stood in the entry. As she saw him gaze at her, she stepped inside, the hatch sealing in her wake, and came to sit across from Geary. Unlike Desjani, Rione leaned back, almost casual, but in the manner of a cat who could spring at any moment. “What’s the occasion?” Geary asked.

“I told you. I came to congratulate you.”

“Like hell.” Geary gestured angrily. “You’ve spent weeks avoiding me. Why’d you decide to finally show up here again?”

Rione looked away. “I have my reasons. We lost a ship from the Callas Republic in that battle you just fought.”

“I know. Glacis. I’m sorry. We lost about half of her crew but were able to rescue the rest. The survivors were distributed among other ships from the Callas Republic.”

“Thank you.” Rione’s jaw clenched. “I should have seen to that myself. It’s my responsibility.”

“No, it’s mine, as fleet commander, but I would have welcomed your assistance in the matter. And, to put it bluntly, Madam Co-President, the ships of the Callas Republic are wondering why you haven’t been in closer contact with them.”

“I have my reasons,” Rione repeated after a long moment of silence.

“You could share them,” Geary suggested. “Didn’t you once advise me to talk about my problems?”

“Did I? Have you been lonely?” she added abruptly.

“I missed you, yes.”

“I’m not the only woman on this ship, Captain Geary.”

“You’re the only one I can touch,” Geary replied sharply. “You know that. Everyone else in this fleet works for me.”

She gazed at him, her feelings hidden as usual. “You had no one else to talk to?”

“A few times. Captain Duellos. Captain Desjani.”

“Oh?” It was still impossible to tell what Rione was feeling. “Captain Desjani? Did you discuss various ways to slaughter Syndics?”

That almost sounded like Rione’s old, acerbic teasing. Geary weighed his response, then decided to be open about it. “Mostly just operational things, yes. But we did talk about Kosatka once. I told her I’d like to visit there when we get back.”

Rione raised one eyebrow.

“Why not? It’s a nice place. Maybe I couldn’t stay there, but I’d like to see it again.”

“It’s changed, Captain Geary.”

“That’s what Desjani said.” Geary shrugged. “Maybe I want to see how it’s changed, to help me absorb the fact that a century has passed since I last was there.”

“You’d scarcely be allowed to wander around, you know.” Rione twisted her mouth. “Black Jack would be mobbed.”

“Yeah. Desjani offered to show me around. She could help me avoid the crowds, maybe. Her parents are still alive. They’d help us keep a low profile, I think.”

Victoria Rione stayed silent again for a moment, her face unmoving. “So,” she finally observed, “Tanya Desjani has invited you home to meet her parents.”

It hadn’t even occurred to him that Desjani’s offer could be read that way. “What’s the matter? Are you jealous?”

This time both of Rione’s eyebrows arched upward. “Hardly.”

“Good. Because the last thing I want is anyone thinking I’m interested in her or vice versa.” Had Rione heard the baseless rumors about him and Desjani that Duellos had referred to? How could she not have heard them with her spies keeping track of events inside the fleet?

This time Rione smiled slightly. “Oh, surely not, John Geary. Think of the advantages of having a woman who believes you were sent by the living stars to save us all. Many men pray for a woman who would worship them. You’ve got one ready and waiting.”

Geary stood up, anger stirring. “I don’t find that funny at all. Tanya Desjani is a fine officer. I don’t want anyone thinking she would engage in unprofessional behavior. My enemies in this fleet are already trying to stir up trouble and undermine me by alleging that Desjani and I have an unprofessional relationship. I don’t want any more rumors that we’re involved with each other. I won’t do that to her.”

Rione’s smile vanished, and she looked down for a moment. When she raised her head again, her face was composed. “I’m sorry. You’re right.”

“Well, damn,” Geary couldn’t help saying, “I’ve got a woman who just admitted I was right. A lot of men pray for that, too.”

“Just because I’m being a bitch doesn’t mean you have to be a bastard.”

It was Geary’s turn to look away and nod. “That’s true.”

“Besides,” Rione continued, “I’m much better at it than you are.” She sagged back in her seat, her expression a mix of weariness and unhappiness.

Geary leaned forward. “What the hell’s going on, Victoria? I can tell something is bothering you, and I don’t think it’s me. I’ve been trying to imagine why you’d neglect your duties to the Alliance and the Callas Republic and, quite frankly, I’m baffled.” She sat silent, her expression revealing nothing. “Is it me? You haven’t touched me since Ilion. We never made any promises, but I honestly don’t understand what happened to change things.”

Rione shrugged, her face averted. “I’m a bitch. You knew that. It was only physical, anyway.”

“No, it wasn’t.” Rione didn’t look up, so Geary continued. “I said it before, and I’ll say it now. I like talking with you. I like being around you.”

“I notice you’re not denying that I’m a bitch.”

“And you’re trying to change the subject.” He caught her frown. “Is this related to why you and Captain Desjani are at sword’s point whenever you’re together?”

She laughed mockingly. “Such an observant man. If Desjani and I were two formations of Syndic warships you’d have figured out what we were doing a long time ago.”

Geary refused to rise to the bait. “I respect you both. I like you both, though in different ways. I also respect the way both of you think. That’s why it worries the hell out of me that I don’t know why you two seem to hate each other since Ilion.”

Rione looked away for some time before answering. “Captain Tanya Desjani is afraid that I will hurt the man she idolizes.”

“Dammit, Victoria—”

“I’m not joking, John Geary.” She sighed heavily and finally looked back at him. “Use your head!” Rione demanded harshly. “What did we pick up at Sancere?”

“A lot of things.”

“Including an outdated but large listing of Alliance prisoners of war.” To Geary’s shock, Rione seemed to be trembling slightly as she spoke. “You know the Syndics stopped sharing lists of prisoners with us long ago. You know many of the names on that list were presumed dead. You should have realized that some of the names on that list would be people that were thought to be certainly dead!” She almost shouted the last.

He finally got it. “Your husband. His name was on the list?”

Her fists were clenched, and she was visibly shaking. “Yes.”

“But you said you knew he was dead.”

“Those who escaped from the ship said he had died!” she yelled, though Geary somehow knew Rione wasn’t yelling at him. She calmed herself, taking long, slow breaths. “But the list we captured gives his name and identity number. It says he was badly injured but alive when captured.”

Geary waited a moment, but she said nothing more. “That’s all?”

“That’s all, John Geary. I know the Syndics captured him alive. I know he was seriously hurt. I don’t know if he lived for even another day. I don’t know if he survived whatever medical treatment the Syndics offered. I don’t know if he was sent to a labor camp. I don’t know if he died after that.” She paused. “I don’t know.”

Victoria Rione, normally so in control, was radiating pain. Geary moved over and held her close, feeling the tremors inside her. “I’m sorry. Damn, I’m sorry.”

Her voice was slightly muffled now. “I don’t know if he’s alive. I don’t know if he’s dead. If he somehow survived, if he’s in a labor camp somewhere, the chances that I’d ever learn of it, the chances that I’d ever see him again, are so tiny as to be zero. Yet he could be alive. My husband, the man I still love.”

And, Geary realized, she had learned this within weeks of coming into his bed for the first time. The ugly irony of it left him wondering why the living stars had done such a thing to Rione. “Okay. You don’t have to say any more.”

“Yes, I do. After ten years of staying true to his memory, I gave myself to you, and then learned he might still live.” Rione pushed Geary away and stared off to the side. “Fate had its joke, didn’t it? I thought I had done the right thing, John Geary. I thought I had honored my dead husband and done as he would have wished. Now I find I may have dishonored him. Myself as well, but mostly him.”

“No.” His reply came out without thinking. Geary paused to order his words. “You’ve dishonored no one. Tell me the truth. If he showed up at a labor camp in the next star system we visit, would you go with him or stay with me?”

“Go with him,” she answered without hesitating. “I’m sorry, John Geary, but that is the truth, and it will not change. I’ve told you where my heart would forever lie.” Rione breathed deeply again, trying to control her emotions. “Desjani knows that, too. She found my husband’s name on the list and came to tell me out of a sense of duty. Your Captain Desjani is very dedicated in her sense of duty. She was also hurt for me, though I didn’t give her enough credit for that at the time, and shocked when I revealed that I already had seen the same thing and not told you.” Rione locked eyes with Geary. “She didn’t think I should keep it from you. She didn’t want you hurt when you found out.”

There wasn’t any reason to doubt Rione. It sounded just like what Desjani would do. “And when you refused to tell me…”

“She wouldn’t divulge my secret. Not the noble, honorable Captain Desjani.” Rione grimaced and shook her head. “She doesn’t deserve to be spoken of by me that way. She was just trying to protect you. Tanya Desjani has honor. If anyone deserves you, she does.”

“What?” The conversation had shifted too suddenly. “Deserves me? She’s one of my subordinates. She’s never given the slightest sign of—”

“Nor will she,” Rione interrupted. “As I said, she has honor. Even if she was willing to compromise her own honor, she’d never compromise yours. I, on the other hand, am a politician. I use people. I used you.”

“You gave me no promises,” Geary repeated. “Damn, Victoria, am I supposed to feel abused here? When you’re the one who’s been torn apart?”

“You were enticed into publicly sharing your bed with a woman whose husband might still live!” Rione yelled, losing control again. “I have stained your honor and left openings for your enemies to exploit! Why can’t you get angry about that?”

“Who else knows about this?” Geary asked, startled.

“I…” Rione flung one hand out angrily. “You, me, and the noble Captain Desjani. For certain. Others may have found the same information and be waiting to employ it when it will harm you the most. You have to assume that’s the case. You have to assume your honor will be questioned sooner or later because of me.”

“I seem to recall you once telling me that you could look out for your own honor. I can do the same.”

“Can you?” Rione took a long, deep breath. “If I’m supposed to be your example, you’re not very convincing. Why are you trying to defend me?”

“Because any man worth anything wouldn’t fault you for an honest mistake—”

“Any man? Will you speak for my husband now, John Geary?” Rione glared at him. “What would I tell him? What should I tell my ancestors? I haven’t spoken with them since I learned of this. How can I?”

Geary looked silently back at her for a moment. “Do you want me to speak honestly?”

“Oh, why not? One of us should be honest,” Rione answered bitterly.

“Then I’ll tell you a few things.” Geary kept his voice firm, speaking as if giving commands on the bridge. “First, my honor isn’t stained. Neither is your honor. A stain requires knowingly doing a dishonorable thing.”

“That is not—”

“I don’t care how people see things now! A hundred years ago people understood that! Aren’t your lives hard enough after a century of war? Do you need to make them even harder by holding yourselves to impossible standards?” Rione stared at him. “I don’t have the right to tell you how to feel, but I’m telling you that’s how I feel. Secondly,” Geary continued, “you’re not helping anyone by flaying yourself this way. Yes, in a perfect, ideal universe you could be held to some impossible standard of loyalty. Not here.”

She shook her head. “That’s unlikely to bring comfort to my husband or to my ancestors.”

“What would you have wanted to happen if the situation were reversed?” Geary demanded. “If you’d been badly hurt, taken for dead, and perhaps forever separated from your husband? What would you have wanted?”

Rione spent a long time with her eyes lowered, saying nothing. Finally, she raised her gaze again and spoke calmly. “I would want him to be happy.”

“Even if that meant finding someone else if he thought you were dead?”

“Yes.”

“And if he then learned you could still be alive but still possibly forever lost to him? Would you want him to blame himself?”

“Do not use my husband against me, John Geary,” Rione spat. “You don’t have the right.”

He sat back and nodded, trying to stay calm. “That’s so. Why not talk to your ancestors? Maybe they’ll give you some sign of how they feel.”

“Such as the word adulteress appearing on my forehead?” Rione asked, still angry.

“Since you already think it’s there, why not?” Geary shot back. “But maybe they won’t condemn you. They’re your ancestors, Victoria. They were human, too. They lived imperfect lives. That’s why we talk to them, because they can remember and understand and maybe, just maybe, they can show us some wisdom that we’ve not yet learned.”

She shook her head, looking away again. “I can’t.”

“Even the most dishonorable can talk to their ancestors! No one can take that from you!”

“That’s not what I mean.” Rione stared stubbornly toward the opposite bulkhead.

He studied her profile, the set of her jaw, and slowly began to understand. “You’re afraid to talk to them? Afraid of how they might react?”

“Does that surprise you, John Geary? Of course I’m afraid. I’ve done many things I’m not particularly proud of, but I’ve never done anything that I thought would shame my ancestors.”

He considered that for a while. “You don’t have to face them alone. There are—”

“I will not share my shame with another!”

“You’ve already shared it with Desjani and now me!” Geary yelled back.

“And that is where it will end,” Rione muttered, her face grim and stubborn.

“I could—”

“No!” Rione visibly tried to calm herself again. “That would have been my husband’s role. I won’t have you beside me when I face my ancestors.”

That left only one option. “How about Desjani? Could you ask her to accompany you?”

Rione stared at him, plainly shocked.

“She already knows.”

“And she detests me.”

“Because you wouldn’t tell me. Now you have.” Rione’s eyes wavered. “You said it yourself. Desjani has honor. Your ancestors can’t object to her.”

Rione shook her head, avoiding Geary’s gaze again. “Why would she do that for me?”

“I could ask her.” Wrong answer, as Rione’s eyes blazed. “Or you could. Do you think Desjani would deny you that?”

She finally sighed. “Oh, no. Not the noble Captain Desjani. She’d even stand beside a politician if that person needed her, wouldn’t she? Especially if she thought the great Captain Geary wanted her to do it.”

“I think so, but you can leave the ‘great Captain Geary’ crap out of it. I’m trying to help you here, and Captain Desjani will help you if you ask, so you don’t need to keep throwing verbal missiles at either of us.”

Rione stood up, gazing down at Geary with a searching expression. “You won’t be in command of this fleet forever. Someday you’ll get it home. The living stars alone know how, but somehow you’ll do it. You can retire the day after that if you want. No one in the Alliance would deny you that. On that day, when you no longer have the responsibilities of command, when regulations and honor no longer keep you from personal relationships with any other officers, would you want to be tied to someone like me, or would you like the freedom to learn the heart of someone like Tanya Desjani?”

“I’ve never—”

“No. And you won’t. Damn you.” Rione spun around and left.

Geary started awake as his stateroom door opened, then closed. He slapped the light control, bringing the dim night lighting to life, and saw Victoria Rione standing there, watching him silently.

“Hello, John Geary.” She walked a bit unsteadily toward him, then sat down on the end of the bed, staring at him. “Aren’t you going to ask?”

He could easily smell the wine on her breath even across the distance still separating them. “About what?”

“How it went.” Rione waved one hand grandly. “Me, my ancestors, and Captain Desjani. Surely you want to know.”

“Victoria—”

“Nothing.” She shook her head, slightly wobbly, her voice thick. “I explained what had happened. I expressed my remorse. I asked for guidance. Nothing. I felt nothing. They sent me nothing. My ancestors don’t even want to acknowledge me anymore, John Geary.”

He sat up finally. “That can’t be true.”

“Ask the noble Captain Desjani! Damn her and damn you.” Rione shoved herself to her feet and started pulling off her clothes.

Geary got up, too. “What are you doing?”

“Being what I am.” She dropped the last garment and half fell onto the bed, gazing up at him. “Go ahead.”

“You must be crazy if you think I’d take advantage of you right now.”

“Too honorable? Don’t fool yourself. Just be Black Jack for a while. Do whatever you want.”

He stared down at her, trying to find words.

Rione spoke again, her eyes looking past Geary now as if seeing other things. “I’ll kill him if I have to, you know. If Black Jack tries to harm the Alliance and there’s no other way to stop him, I’ll kill him. Too many others have died to let their sacrifices be lost. Maybe that’s when my honor disappeared, when I vowed to do anything it took to stop Black Jack.” Her eyes focused back on him with some difficulty. “Anything.”

It wasn’t easy to say, but he had to speak the thought that came to him. “Is that why you started sleeping with me in the first place?”

Her mouth worked; then she shook her head slightly. “No,” she whispered. “I don’t think even I would do that.”

“Even you? At one point you spoke of things even I wouldn’t do, and now you’re being just as hard on yourself.” Geary reached down to pull the sheet over her while she watched, unmoving. “I will not treat you badly, Victoria. You deserve much better, whether you believe that or not.”

He sat down nearby, his eyes on the starscape glowing softly on one wall. “You’re a hard person, a tough person, but you’re just as hard on yourself as you are on others. Maybe harder. I don’t think it’s possible for your ancestors to forgive you when you refuse to forgive yourself.”

A long time went by in silence, then he looked over and saw that Rione had passed out. Even now, dead to the world, her face was lined with distress.

When Geary had first been awakened on Dauntless, he’d been too stunned to really pay attention to the people in the fleet, the descendants of the people he’d once known and lived among. After assuming command, he’d quickly learned about some of the changes that a century of time and ugly warfare had wrought, and he had been left believing that he was among strangers who no longer felt or thought like he did. As the weeks went by and he learned more about them, Geary had decided he’d too harshly judged these people and had begun to feel as if he and they shared fundamental things. But now he felt doubt again. Honor could be a burden and a sword. It could be too easily misused. And it seemed the people of the Alliance in this time a hundred years from his own used honor as a weapon against themselves, making honor so unyielding and unreasonable that it could just as easily harm them as their enemies, just as easily endorse injustice as integrity.

Geary sighed, stood up carefully to avoid making noise, then dressed silently. At the door he paused to look back at her. I’ve felt so much pain from knowing everyone I once knew and loved was dead. But how many people in the Alliance are like Victoria Rione, not knowing if their loved ones are dead or alive, wondering how to live with their souls torn by uncertainty? How many in the Syndicate Worlds feel the same? For the first time, he realized there was an advantage to even the cruel certainty he had been forced to deal with. At least it was a certainty.

He roamed the quiet passageways and compartments of Dauntless, greeting those members of the crew standing watches in the depths of the ship’s night, trying to find comfort in living the rituals of command.

Rounding a corner, he found Captain Desjani doing the same.

“Captain Geary?” Desjani didn’t hide her surprise. “Is everything all right?”

“Yeah. I’m okay.”

His tone, his attitude, obviously conveyed otherwise. Desjani grimaced. “You’ve talked with Co-President Rione?”

Geary nodded.

“I had thought…” Desjani paused and tried again. “I’d been very angry with her. As you could tell. I thought she’d refused to tell you because she lacked honor. I didn’t realize her sense of honor was in fact tearing her apart.”

“How did it really go? Did her ancestors really reject her?”

Desjani lowered her head and thought some more. “I felt something. I don’t know what. They were there. But she wouldn’t accept that, I think.”

“That was my impression, too.”

“She … um…” Desjani seemed embarrassed and angry. “I saw her again a little while ago. She’d been drinking, and she said a few things.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Sir, I hope nothing I have done or said has in any way led you to think that I would ever—”

He held up a hand to forestall her. “You’ve been completely professional. I couldn’t ask for a better officer.”

Desjani still seemed distressed. “Even if you didn’t have a great mission to fulfill, even if the living stars hadn’t sent you to us at our hour of greatest need, it would still be wrong for me to—”

“Captain, please.” Geary hoped his own voice didn’t sound too distraught. “I understand. We don’t need to talk about it again.”

“There are rumors, Captain Geary,” Desjani got out between clenched teeth. “About you and me. I’ve been made aware of them.”

“Groundless rumors, Captain Desjani. Created and passed on by officers who themselves lack understanding of honor. I’ll do everything I can to act only professionally around you, as I’m sure you will continue to do with me.”

“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir. I knew you’d understand.” She nodded gratefully, then saluted and walked on. Geary watched her go, realizing that regardless of whether they ever talked about it again, it would still be looming over them constantly.

Eventually he ended up back at his stateroom. Rione was still unconscious, so Geary sat down and called up the simulations again. Three more days of passing through Daiquon Star System, and then the Alliance fleet would be at the jump point for Ixion.

Should he still take the fleet to Ixion? The Syndics had obviously guessed enough about his route to plant mines here. What might be at Ixion?

But then the alternative destinations weren’t that attractive. And they definitely had surprised the Syndics by how fast they’d arrived in Daiquon. If the Alliance fleet could keep moving faster than the Syndics could react, they might clear Ixion before the Syndics could get a blocking force in place.

Or not. According to the newest Syndic records they’d been able to steal at Sancere, Ixion boasted a decent inhabited world and a number of off-planet colonies and facilities that could well still be active. It wasn’t an empty or abandoned star system.

He’d have to be ready, really ready, when they arrived in Ixion. Assume the jump point they arrived at was mined, assume the Syndics were waiting in ambush. Make sure the Alliance fleet was ready to cope with that.

Put that way, it sounded simple. He wished he knew how to actually do those things.

Geary finally fell asleep in the chair, wishing Rione would get out of her funk and offer him advice again.

When he awoke, stiff from sleeping in the chair, Geary saw Rione still lying in his bed, but she was awake and gazing at the overhead. Without a word, he stood up and went over to the stateroom’s sink, pulling out some pain-killers and some water, then bringing them over to her.

She accepted the offering, still not looking at him. Only after he had sat back down did she speak. “I don’t recall everything I said last night.”

“That’s probably just as well,” Geary noted in a neutral tone.

“I also don’t recall everything I did last night.”

“We didn’t do anything, if that’s what you’re asking.”

Rione nodded, then sighed, then winced as the gestures apparently brought stabs of pain. “Thank you. Now, if you’ll do me the favor of turning your back, I’ll gather my clothes and whatever shreds of dignity remain to me and spare you having to deal with my presence any longer.”

“Suppose I don’t want to turn my back on you?”

“Spare me the chivalry, John Geary. Unless you simply want to revel in my nakedness. I’ve no right to deny you that small pleasure.” She looked and sounded defeated.

Geary felt himself getting angry with her, started to tamp it down, then realized sympathy hadn’t produced any results so far. “Okay, Madam Co-President. Perhaps I haven’t made myself clear.” Rione frowned at his harsh tone. “I frankly don’t care what you think of yourself right now. I am disappointed that someone of your intelligence and abilities is choosing to wallow in self-pity when I am in desperate need of her advice and good counsel in order to keep this fleet alive and keep my own head on straight. In less than three days we’ll be jumping for Ixion, and I have no idea what will be awaiting us there. Have you decided that Black Jack doesn’t need you to help him make the right choices?”

Rione’s frown deepened, though Geary also spotted a flash of fear in her. Was she wondering what she’d said last night? Whether she’d actually told him straight out just how far she’d go to protect the Alliance from Black Jack?

Geary kept his tone hard. “You’ve told me time and again how important the Alliance is to you. The Alliance needs this fleet back. If I’m to get it back, I need you working to keep me honest. I’m getting more and more comfortable with being in command, and I’m finding it harder and harder to avoid simply doing things because I can. Because the legendary Black Jack Geary could get away with a lot of things that John Geary doesn’t believe would be wise or honorable. What’s more important to you, Madam Co-President? Your own misery or the welfare of the Alliance you claim to believe in?”

Rione sat up, the sheet dropping away from her. But she was apparently unaware of that as she glared at him through bloodshot eyes. “So much for the sympathy of the fleet commander,” Rione spat at him.

“If you want to medicate yourself for depression, then you’d better try something more effective than alcohol,” Geary continued, and this time Rione’s eyes lit with fury. “You seem determined not to forgive yourself or to allow anyone else to forgive you. I can’t make you change that. But I can insist that you provide me with the best support and advice that you can, and that you refrain from acting in ways that could bring harm to the Alliance as a whole and to the Callas Republic. I expect you to act in keeping with your positions as a senator of the Alliance and co-president of your republic.”

She had one fist clenched and seemed ready to leap for Geary’s throat. “Is that all, Captain Geary?” Rione snarled.

“No.” He paused, realizing that as she sat there halfnaked, eyes blazing, Rione resembled an ancient goddess ready to hurl vengeance on an unbeliever. Oddly enough, even through his anger she’d never looked more desirable to him. “Last night didn’t happen, if you want it that way. Nothing has ever happened between us, if you want it that way. Whatever it takes to get you on your feet again.”

She stood up, flaunting her body, even though she still broadcast fury. “Do I mean that little to you, then? Is that what you’re saying?”

“No.” He stood up as well, fighting to keep from grabbing her and pulling them both back onto the bed. “I’m saying you mean that much to me.”

Not knowing if he could control himself any longer, Geary turned quickly and walked out of the stateroom.

An entire battle cruiser at his disposal—no, a fleet of battle cruisers and battleships at his disposal—and he didn’t have anyplace to go sit down where an audience wouldn’t be wondering why Geary looked as if he’d slept in a chair last night. He finally realized the fleet conference room would be private and headed that way, closing the hatch behind him and sinking into the seat at the head of the table.

It felt odd being alone in here, no one else in any of the seats, the table and the room their normal dimensions rather than extending great virtual distances to accommodate all of the ship commanders in the fleet. Geary called up the star display, then the fleet formation, eyeing his ships. Yeah. My ships. I’m responsible for them. And I know the Syndics will have something waiting at Ixion.

They’ll have something waiting no matter which star I jump to from here.

He hated not knowing how to arrange his fleet. How can I do that when I don’t know what’s waiting for us at Ixion? I’m used to having hours at the least, and days or weeks at the most, to see the enemy forces and arrange my own fleet the way I want to deal with the enemy. I can’t afford to keep having goat ropes like when we arrived at Daiquon.

It was like not knowing where Rione was right now. He might return to his stateroom and find her there or run into her coming around a corner. And then what? He’d have to assume the worst and act first, because otherwise Rione might go for his throat after that little speech he’d given before leaving her.

Act first. Damn. It’s so simple. I’m too accustomed to normal combat in space, where you have lots of time to plan for the encounter. I just need to assume the Syndics have a heavy force in place waiting for us. And a minefield in front of the jump exit. There’s an ambush waiting. I know that. And I have to go there anyway. So have the fleet maneuvering and fighting as it comes out of the jump exit.

Why not? The old fleet in Geary’s time couldn’t have managed that. Not because it was beyond their skills but because it was too different from what they drilled and planned for. Everything had been more of a set piece then, more elegant, no chaotic melees allowed. But this fleet, these officers who liked nothing better than charging straight at the enemy, they not only could do it but would do it. They just needed a good plan to go along with their willingness to do whatever it took to kill Syndics.

Okay. What’s the ambush in Ixion going to be like? Worst case. If it’s anything less than that, I’ll have time to react. So, worst case, mines right in front of the jump exit. Right behind them the main Syndic force, ready to hit us immediately after our ships take hits from the mines. They’ll try doing what we did to them at Ilion, only setting up even closer to the jump point than we did. If they’re farther back, fine. That’s easier to handle if I’m expecting the worst.

Maybe, if they’ve been watching me operate, they’ll have forces above, below, and to each side as well to catch this fleet in a crossfire as it heads for the main body. Maybe not. That requires a lot of ships. I need to mess up their plan by doing something ships normally don’t do, something that this fleet normally hasn’t done.

He manipulated the display, trying out different Alliance formations and movements, then, finally satisfied, headed for his stateroom, not sure if he wanted to see Rione there or not.

His stateroom was empty, though. Geary paused just inside the entrance, recalling the look on Victoria Rione’s face when he’d left and seriously wondering whether he should have the stateroom swept for booby traps. His ancestors alone knew what kind of retaliation someone like Rione could improvise on the spur of the moment.

Don’t get paranoid about her. It’s bad enough having to be paranoid about my ship commanders. Geary sent out a message scheduling a commanding officers’ conference in half an hour, then hastily got cleaned up and presentable. As he headed back toward the conference room, Geary wondered if rumors of his blowup with Rione had already reached around the fleet, and if so whether it would somehow be brought up.

Captain Desjani had already taken her seat, springing up respectfully when Geary arrived. “Something urgent, sir?”

“Sort of. Not a danger, just something I need to make sure everyone knows before we jump for Ixion.”

They waited, watching figures begin to pop into existence as the start time of the meeting approached, the table and the room beyond it seeming to expand to accommodate each increase in numbers.

As the scheduled time arrived, Geary stood to speak, only to be forestalled by Captain Midea of the Paladin.

“Have you decided not to go to Ixion?” she demanded. “Are we running away from Alliance space again?”

Everyone around the table seemed to be holding their breaths, waiting for Geary’s response. For his part, Geary felt a burst of rage that he had trouble controlling. Work his ass off figuring out how to kick Syndic butt and save Alliance ships and lives, and all he got was more grief from senior officers who should be grateful they weren’t making big rocks into little rocks at some Syndic labor camp on a barely habitable world. It didn’t help that Captain Midea, who had been a silent presence in fleet conferences up to now, wore a severe expression matched to a uniform so perfect in every aspect that she resembled the Syndic CEOs that Geary had seen.

It took him another moment, while he fixed a level stare at Captain Midea, to be reminded by the identifying data provided by the meeting software that Paladin was part of the increasingly infamous Third Battleship Division, home to Captain Casia and Commander Yin, where Captains Faresa and Numos remained under arrest.

The combination of her disrespectful question, his own fatigue from an uncomfortable night, emotional turmoil over Victoria Rione, and frustration with the Battleship Division from Hell almost made Geary explode right then and there. Fortunately, he remembered why he’d called the meeting and realized that either luck or his ancestors had provided the perfect rebuke to Captain Midea.

So, instead of going nova on Captain Midea, Geary gave her a grim smile. “We’re going to Ixion, Captain. We’re going to Ixion, and we’re going to come out of the jump exit in battle formation, because I fully expect the Syndics to have an ambush in place there. I called this conference to ensure you all knew how we were going to fight that battle.”

That threw her off, Geary could tell. She’d been expecting to engage him in a debate over his caution, but not only was the fleet charging ahead, it was doing so expecting battle. None of his opponents would dare object to that. Captain Casia, who had appeared poised to leap into verbal combat beside Midea, clamped his mouth shut and sat back.

Geary reached down and began entering commands. The display sprang to life over the table, showing the formation that Geary had worked out that morning. “We’re going to get the fleet into Formation Kilo One before we jump. It’s a combat formation, with the fleet broken into many subformations, each built around a battle cruiser or battleship division, and all of them arranged to provide supporting fire to neighboring subformations.” He rotated the image of the formation on the display, making it clear that it consisted of a staggered series of blocks of ships, twelve blocks in total, arranged into the overall shape of a roughly rectangular box.

Captain Desjani studied the formation along with all of the other officers and spoke first. “In case we run into something like Daiquon again?”

“Right. See, each of these formations is self-supporting. None of our lighter units will be far from heavy support, and all of the heavy combatants will have light units close by supporting them. No matter what we encounter, these subformations will be able to defend themselves, and taken together will let us hit any Syndic formation we run into from multiple angles. It’s not a perfect attack formation because we don’t know how the Syndics will be arranged, but regardless of how they’re set up, we’ll be able to maul any Syndics at the jump exit and provide effective protection for our own ships until we get clear of the initial combat area and can adjust our formation to hit them again.”

“You’re assuming major combat at the exit itself?” Captain Tulev asked. “It happened at Daiquon by chance, but we’ve never worked that way.”

“We will now.” Geary smiled at Tulev, then around the table. “We’ll come out of the jump exit ready to engage a major enemy force, and we will engage them and we will hurt them badly before they even realize we’re there.” He could see faces lighting up with enthusiasm. This fleet loved charging into action. Most of his work since assuming command had been slowly teaching these officers to think as hard as they fought. That usually meant avoiding headlong charges, which had been difficult for many of his ship commanders to accept. Now he was offering them something like a headlong charge into battle again, and they were as happy as could be at the prospect of mutual slaughter.

“All units will proceed to stations in Formation Kilo One at time three zero,” Geary continued. “Formation assignments will be transmitted to all ships as soon as this conference is over. In addition, we will have maneuvering orders to take effect the instant your ships arrive in Ixion. We’ll come through the exit at only point zero five light speed. The instant each ship and their subformation exits jump at Ixion, they are to alter course up six zero degrees.”

“Mines?” Captain Cresida asked.

“Right. Changing course up that much should bring us clear of mines set to catch ships coming straight out of the exit. The Syndics were mining the exits here at Daiquon, so we have to assume they’re doing the same at other systems they think we’re within reach of. Once we clear the minefield, we’ll change course down again and accelerate as necessary to engage the enemy.”

“That’s a lot of mines,” Captain Duellos observed. “They must be sinking a lot of resources into that.”

“It’ll also disrupt their trade with systems not on their hypernet,” Geary added.

“They’re getting desperate,” Captain Cresida concluded. “Everything they’ve tried to stop this fleet has failed, and we’re getting closer to home.”

The statement had enough evidence to support it that no one objected, though some faces frowned in thought.

“Are there any questions?” Geary asked.

“Where do we go after Ixion?” Captain Casia had recovered enough to ask.

Just relieve him of command and arrest him, Black Jack urged Geary. He took a deep breath and answered firmly but calmly. “I haven’t decided. That depends on what we find at Ixion. There’ll be four star systems within jump range of Ixion, five counting Daiquon, though I’ve no intention of coming back here. Are there any other questions?”

Commander Yin piped up. “Why doesn’t Co-President Rione attend these conferences anymore?”

Rumors had flown just as quickly as Geary had thought they might. He wondered just who watched arrivals and departures from his stateroom and how. “You’d have to ask Co-President Rione. She knows she’s welcome to attend, and I have every expectation that the ships of the Callas Republic and the Rift Federation keep her informed of events.” Those commanding officers all nodded with varying degrees of hesitation.

“Why doesn’t she register her opinions here, at the conferences?” Captain Midea demanded. “We know she offers her opinions to you in private.”

His opponents had previously tried to generate trouble from accusations that a civilian politician was having too much influence on fleet actions. It looked like that same charge was about to be raised again. Rather than lose his temper, Geary decided to try handling it with humor. “Captain Midea, if you know anything of Co-President Rione, you know that nothing and no one is capable of preventing her from expressing her opinion whenever and wherever she desires to do so.” That brought grins to a lot of faces. “Co-President Rione lets me know what she thinks and has in fact provided invaluable suggestions during operations.”

Captain Desjani, her own expression carefully composed, nodded. “Co-President Rione is usually on the bridge during operations.”

“Co-President Rione was openly offering suggestions during ground operations at Baldur,” Colonel Carabali chimed in. “There was no attempt to hide her involvement.”

“But why isn’t she here?” Commander Yin pressed, her tone implying that something was being hidden.

“I don’t know,” Geary replied coldly. “A member of the Alliance Senate is not subject to orders from me. As a citizen of the Alliance you have the right to speak with a senator at any time, so why don’t you ask her yourself?”

“A politician, with the ear of the fleet commander on a constant basis.” Resolution’s captain spoke cautiously. “You can surely understand our concern, Captain Geary.”

Geary tried to respond in an even voice, even though he wasn’t liking where the conversation was going this time. “Co-President Rione is an Alliance politician, not a Syndic politician. She is on our side.”

“Politicians are only out for themselves,” the captain of Fearless suggested. “The military sacrifices for the Alliance, while the politicians make bad decisions and big money.”

“Such a discussion involves politics, too,” Geary suggested. “We’re not here to debate the virtues of the Alliance’s political leadership. I will state again that Co-President Rione does not and will not make decisions about employment of this fleet, but that she has every right and responsibility to inform me of her opinions and recommendations. Ultimately we work for her, because ultimately she works for the citizens of the Alliance.” Did that sound pompous? He wasn’t sure. But then he’d never imagined having to remind Alliance officers of those basic facts.

A moment’s silence stretched, finally broken by Captain Duellos speaking in casual tones. “You believe the civilian government’s authority over you is absolute, Captain Geary?”

A deliberately leading question, one he had no problem answering, but one he couldn’t help wondering why it had to be asked at all. “That’s correct. I follow orders from the government, or I resign my commission. That’s how the fleet works.” Not as many nods of agreement answered that as Geary would have hoped. In addition to all of its other damage, the long war had obviously harmed the relationship between the fleet and the Alliance’s leaders. Geary’s own experience with Captain Falco had revealed to him a belief in parts of today’s fleet that military duty might justify going against civilian authority. Maybe Black Jack’s mystique could help discredit that corrosive idea before it did even greater damage. “That’s what makes us the Alliance. We answer to the government, and the government answers to the people. If any of you doubt the virtues of that system, I suggest you study our enemies. The Syndicate Worlds are what happens when people with power do whatever they want.”

That was as close to a slap in the face as Geary could publicly administer to his opponents, and he could see it hit home in some of them. “Thank you. I expect to hold my next conference at Ixion.”

Figures vanished rapidly, but this time the image of Captain Badaya remained in the room with Geary. Badaya glanced at Desjani, who gave him a measuring look back and excused herself.

Once Desjani had left, Captain Badaya faced Geary and spoke quietly. “Captain Geary, I’ve been among those who have had my doubts about you. Like the others in this fleet, I was raised to believe that Black Jack Geary was the epitome of an Alliance officer, the sort of beyond-comparison individual who had saved the Alliance once and might someday return to save it again in the future.”

He hated hearing that. “Captain Badaya—”

Badaya held up one hand, palm out. “Let me finish. When the fleet found you, I was not among those who were willing to place full faith and trust in you. I didn’t oppose you, but I wasn’t a supporter, either. After so many years of war I have a hard time believing in miraculous saviors.”

Geary smiled slightly. “I assure you that I’m not miraculous, Captain Badaya.”

“No,” Badaya agreed. “You’re human enough. Which is what has led me to join with those who believe most fervently in you. I don’t agree with their abstract faith in you, but I do agree that you have proven to be an exceptionally able commander. No other officer I’ve met could have brought the fleet this far or won the victories that you have. But that’s what I must talk to you about. Should we reach Alliance space again, it will be because you brought this fleet there. You did something no one else could do.”

Geary suddenly realized where this might be heading and desperately hoped he was wrong.

“How foolish would it be for someone of your talents, someone who could indeed finally win this war, to submit himself to the control of the fools in the Alliance Grand Council and the Senate, who have played such a distasteful part in prolonging this war?” Badaya asked. “You have the idealism of the past, which has served us well, but you need to see what has happened at home in the last century. Yes, the politicians are supposed to answer to the people of the Alliance, but they long since stopped doing anything but looking after their own interests. They’ve played politics with the fate of the Alliance and the fate of the military that defends the Alliance. How many have died, civilian and military, in a war that has had no end because thoughtless civilian politicians have meddled in the decisions that by rights should belong to those risking their lives on the front lines?”

Geary shook his head. “Captain Badaya—”

“Listen, please! You can make the difference. You can rescue the Alliance from politicians who the people of the Alliance no longer trust or believe in. When we reach Alliance space, you can claim the authority needed to make the decisions necessary to win this war, to end the ceaseless bloodshed. The people will follow Black Jack Geary if he calls on them.” Badaya nodded, his expression solemn. “There are many commanders in this fleet who believe the same. I was asked to speak for them to assure you that this belief is not based solely on faith in your legend. And, yes, there are those who will oppose you no matter what. Those officers can be dealt with, for the good of us all.”

The implicit opportunity to become a dictator had never actually been offered to Geary so explicitly. Just the statement of the offer constituted treason, and yet he needed officers like Badaya in order to get the fleet home. “I … appreciate your reasoning. I am … grateful that you think highly of me. But I cannot in good conscience consider what you offer. It goes against everything I believe in as an officer of the Alliance.”

Badaya nodded again. “I didn’t expect you to jump at the offer. You’re far too capable to make such a leap without careful consideration. We merely want you to be aware of what you could do, of the backing you have, so that you may mull it over prior to our return to Alliance space. Once you’ve really looked over the misgovernment of the politicians in the Council and the Senate, you’ll feel differently.”

“Captain Badaya, similar sentiments were expressed to me by Captain Falco, though in his case he thought himself the natural one to seize power.”

Badaya grimaced. “Captain Falco was always eager to express his confidence in himself. I never liked that. You’re different, as different as the great victory you achieved at Ilion compared to the disaster that Falco presided over at Vidha.”

Say it. Just say it clearly. He could not leave any grounds for anyone to believe that he would seriously consider the offer. “Captain Badaya, because I’m not Captain Falco, I cannot imagine any circumstances under which I would seize power from the civilian government of the Alliance.”

Badaya didn’t seem offended, just nodding once more. “We expected to hear that. You are Black Jack Geary, after all. But Black Jack Geary is devoted to the Alliance, isn’t he? All we ask is that you consider the good you could do. The people of the Alliance need you, Captain Geary, to save them just as you’re saving this fleet. I didn’t believe that when we first recovered you, but you’ve made me believe that is true. And don’t expect gratitude from the politicians when you bring this fleet home. They’ll see you as a rival and try to destroy you. But I assure you that any arrest order will be resisted by the majority of the fleet. Thank you for your time, sir.” Badaya saluted, waiting for Geary to return the gesture before his image vanished.

Geary collapsed into his seat and pressed his palms against his forehead. Damn. “Think of the good you could do.” Ancestors, save me from those who hate me and from those who admire me.

When I found out the Syndic citizens on Baldur were unhappy with their leaders, I thought it was great news. Maybe the Syndics would finally act against their own government. And now I learn as clearly as possible that a lot of the Alliance’s own officers are just as unhappy with their government.

Wouldn’t that be ironic, if the governments of both the Alliance and Syndicate Worlds collapsed because of the frustrations of their people with this apparently endless war? To be replaced by what? Lots of small, squabbling, fighting gatherings of a few star systems?

What if I face a choice of seeing that happen or accepting the sort of dictatorship that Badaya and his friends want to hand me?