Dauntless

ELEVEN

The star that humans had named Kaliban had acquired a great many more objects in orbit. Most of those objects were small, the shattered debris that was all that was left after Syndic warships had either blown themselves apart or Alliance boarding parties had done the same thing to prevent the ships from being salvaged and reused by the enemy. Also among the remnants of battle were a swarm of Syndic escape pods scattered through a wide area of space, carrying the survivors who’d managed to leave their ships before the end. Small, unarmed, and with just enough range to reach safety within the Kaliban System, the pods were no threat to the victorious Alliance fleet.

“Those crews could fight again. They will fight again,” Desjani argued. “I’m not saying we should have target practice on the escape pods, but rounding them up and taking the crews prisoner would be a good idea.”

Geary let her see he was considering the idea before he shook his head. “Where would we put them? They’d fill every brig on every ship and have large numbers left over. And we’d have to feed them.”

Desjani grimaced but nodded. “Security and logistics. Those two things keep getting in the way of a lot of good ideas.”

“You got that right.” Geary grinned. “Though I’ve seen plenty of plans that didn’t take reality into account, and that didn’t seem to bother the people who created the plans.”

“Of course not. Why spoil a great plan by letting reality intrude?” Desjani smiled as well. “This is a wonderful victory, Captain Geary.”

“Thank you. There’s some unfinished business, though. How can we find out which one of those pods contains whoever’s the senior surviving Syndic officer?”

It took a little while, bouncing messages around various escape pods until the one containing the Syndic commander was located and a communications link established. As fate would have it, the overall commander had survived the battle, though Geary wondered whether that officer would be grateful for the fact for very long.

The Syndic CEO’s carefully tailored uniform had suffered the indignities of several rips and burns. His face, as pale as if he were in shock, had the stunned look of someone who hadn’t been able to absorb what had happened. Geary didn’t recognize the CEO, but the CEO stared at Geary with eyes filled with disbelieving recognition. “It’s true,” the Syndic commander whispered.

“What’s true?” Geary asked, knowing the answer already.

Instead of giving that answer, the Syndic CEO appeared to try to steel himself. “My force will not s-surrender,” he stuttered.

Geary couldn’t help raising both eyebrows in a surprised expression. “That’s not really an option anymore. There’s nothing to surrender. Your force has ceased to exist. All of your ships have been destroyed.”

“We can s-still fight.”

“Hand to hand, you mean? But, you see, we’re not interested in fighting you any longer,” Geary explained. “Your former command no longer possesses any military capability, and to be perfectly frank, we have no interest in taking on responsibility for a large number of prisoners.” The CEO somehow paled a little more, but he stayed silent. “There are two things I need to tell you. The first is that I still have some personnel on an asteroid in this system. I’m sending you the orbital data for the asteroid I’m speaking of. If you still have any doubts as to which asteroid it is, make sure you contact us. Try to ensure none of the escape pods from your fleet land there. I’ll be taking off my personnel and have no wish to confront refugees from your fleet, as that could inadvertently lead to further bloodshed.”

The Syndic CEO nodded, still silent.

“The other thing is that we surveyed all of the abandoned Syndicate Worlds facilities within the Kaliban Star System, and I want you to know that the former towns at these locations I’m now sending you remain in good condition. Your people will have no trouble restarting life support. I regret to state we drew down the supplies of foodstuffs that had been left behind when the towns were abandoned, but enough should remain for your personnel until other Syndicate Worlds units arrive in the system to discover the fate of your command. In order to ensure word of your presence here is known, I assure you that when next we contact any Syndicate Worlds planets or other representatives, we will also inform them that you are awaiting rescue.”

Another nod. The Syndic CEO seemed increasingly confused, as if waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“I regret that my fleet cannot linger much longer in this system,” Geary continued, “and that therefore offering medical care to your injured is out of the question. But the mothballed medical facilities we examined in this system, while limited and outdated, all appear fully functional and still contain an adequate supply of expendable materials.”

The CEO finally found his voice again. “Why are you telling me all this?”

“I am fulfilling my obligations under the rules of war,” Geary stated in a slow, firm voice, “as well as the obligations incurred by my personal honor and the honor of my ancestors. Now, one last thing.” Geary leaned forward. “Once you are back in communication with your superiors, please inform them that any other Syndicate Worlds force that attempts to engage this fleet will suffer the same fate as yours.”

The CEO just stared back for a long moment. “Who are you?” he finally asked in a voice so dry it was almost unintelligible.

“You know who I am. I saw you recognize me.”

“You’re—He’s dead!”

“No. I’m not.” Geary jabbed a finger at the CEO’s image. “My name is John Geary. I used to be known as Black Jack Geary a long time ago. I’m in command of this fleet now, and I’m taking it home. Anyone who wishes to try to stop this fleet will have to deal with me.”

Geary could see several of the Syndic personnel within the CEO’s escape pod make sudden gestures over their chests. It took a moment, then he realized they were making ancient warding signs against forces of darkness. Believe that if you want, as long as it makes you afraid to mess with this fleet again.

But it ought to bother me more to see it. Is what Co-President Rione said true? Am I starting to like being regarded as something more than human?

After a victory like this, am I going to start believing it myself? He nodded to the Syndic CEO. “No offense, but hopefully we won’t meet again until this war is ended.” Then he broke the connection and stared at the space where the CEO’s image had been.

Maybe a little reality check will keep me grounded. Geary worked the controls on his display until he got a readout of the losses the Alliance fleet had suffered. He gazed at the report, then punched his controls again. “Are loss reports still coming in?”

Captain Desjani looked surprised at the question. “Loss reports are updated continuously based on ship status feeds.”

“This can’t be right.”

She called up the same data. “I don’t see any indications the data stream has been compromised. Communications watch, double-check the ship status feeds to ensure we’re getting everything.”

“Yes, ma’am.” A minute later, the watch gave his report. “No problems with the ship status feeds, Captain. All feeds confirmed active, except for those feeds lost due to loss of the ship.”

Desjani gave Geary a long look. “It was an amazingly one-sided battle,” she noted. “I find the results hard to believe myself, but that is an accurate tally of our losses and damage throughout the fleet.”

“Thank the living stars.” Geary ran his eyes over the list again, the gratifyingly short list, of ship losses suffered by the Alliance fleet. “That’s the way it’s supposed to work. In theory. By taking full advantage of our superior numbers, exploiting the weaknesses of the enemy formation, and concentrating fire at the decisive point, we overwhelmed the Syndic ships and prevented them from doing the same to us. It didn’t hurt that the Syndic commander fought stupidly.”

“I believe he assumed we’d fight the same way we have in the past.” Desjani noted, shaking her head in apparent disbelief. “I never would’ve believed the difference it made.”

“If courage alone decided battles, the course of human history would’ve been a lot different.” Geary forced himself to read the list of lost ships slowly. One-sided it may have been, but even a one-sided victory costs the winner. “Damn.” Geary just looked at the warship name at the top of the list, feeling a numbness inside. The Arrogant. Lost with all hands. Commander Hatherian. I’m sorry.

“Sir?” Captain Desjani looked over. “Oh. Arrogant. Power core overload.”

Geary couldn’t look at her. “Do we have any idea what happened?”

“It’s in the summary file, sir. See? During the first pass-through of the Syndic formation by Fox Five Two, Arrogant was near several lighter units that came under sustained fire from a number of heavy Syndic warships. Arrogant moved to cover them and took the fire herself.” She nodded, her expression sober. “Commander Hatherian proved himself to be a good commanding officer.”

“Yes.” Geary didn’t trust himself to say anything else, knowing that if he hadn’t transferred Hatherian to Arrogant, then that officer would have been on Orion and still alive. But then if he hadn’t given command of Fox Five Two to Captain Numos, and if Numos hadn’t squandered his maneuvering advantage and allowed some of his ships to be caught under concentrated enemy fire, then Arrogant wouldn’t have had to sacrifice herself to protect those ships. That’s also my fault. I decided to let Numos take that command even though I didn’t trust him with it. “We also lost some light units. Dagger, Swift, Venom. And another heavy cruiser. Invidious.”

“Yes, that’s too bad. We need every escort we have. But we did recover some of their crews.”

Geary just stared at her, trying to understand how a fleet officer, how a citizen of the Alliance, could so calmly deal with the losses of ships and their crews. Desjani seemed partly somber over the losses yet also partly jubilant at the same time. Have my people really become so barbaric that it doesn’t matter to them when ships and crews die?

Then Desjani indicated the list of losses, and her face went sad in a way that relieved Geary. “No victory comes without a price, not even one of yours, sir. None of those we lost today need fear facing their ancestors, though.” She shook her head, her gaze distant. “After the battle at Easir, we didn’t know what to think. We’d kept possession of the system, but the cost was so high. Every single battle cruiser in the system and half of our battleships lost, the light escorts decimated. We’d traded losses almost ship for ship with the Syndics, but had we truly done honor to our ancestors by losing so many? You never really know in a case like that.” Desjani paused again. “I was a junior lieutenant, then. I made lieutenant commander the next day. They needed a lot more officers.”

Oh, damn. I didn’t understand at all. Geary nodded without speaking, trying to mask his embarrassment and shame at thinking Desjani and the others didn’t care about losses. They care. But they’re used to it. They’ve seen so many die, so many times. It’s a fact of life, so they don’t let it overwhelm them.

He wondered how many ships and how many sailors had died at Easir. He wondered if he’d ever have the guts to look up the history of the battle to find out. You knew this, Geary. You knew they’d taken horrible losses, year in and year out. But you didn’t really feel it. Didn’t understand how it must feel to them. They’re used to it, as used to seeing their friends and comrades die as anyone can ever be. I’m not used to it. War, this war, is still new to me even though it’s a century old. He felt the cold inside again, thinking about his crew members who had died long ago in that battle at Grendel. And then, for the first time, he wondered if Desjani ever felt the cold when she remembered dead comrades.

He reached out and clasped Desjani’s shoulder, drawing a look of surprise from her. “They all did honor, Tanya. To themselves, to their ancestors, to those of us who’ve survived to win this battle. Thank you.”

She looked puzzled, now. “For what, sir?”

“For honoring their memory by your own efforts. For continuing the task they died for.”

Desjani looked away and shook her head. “I’m not unique, Captain Geary.”

“I know.” He let his hand drop. “But I’m honored to know you and every other sailor in this fleet.”

He looked down at the list again, going past the ships destroyed and on to the long tally of damage suffered by other ships. That was a much longer list, but none of the ships on it had been badly hurt. Still, men and women had died on ships when compartments were breached by enemy fire. He became aware that Desjani was watching him intently. “What is it?”

“I don’t know if you understand what’s happened here, Captain Geary. I told you about Easir. Those who were still alive after that battle count themselves as survivors. There’s no pride in it, and as I said no glory. But you’ve done something at Kaliban.” She indicated the list of dead. “Their descendents will be very proud their ancestors died here, just as everyone in this fleet will carry the pride in having been here for the rest of their lives.”

But Geary shook his head. “It wasn’t a closely matched battle. We outnumbered the Syndics by a good margin from the start. Even if you don’t factor in the lousy tactics of the Syndic commander, it wasn’t that great a victory.” He didn’t go on to add that he suspected some people might not be all that impressed by it.

Geary paused a moment, looking down, closing his eyes and breathing slowly and deeply to relax himself. I am really getting to hate these fleet conferences. He raised his head again and looked around the table.

Most of the officers present seemed to at least outwardly share Desjani’s elation at the recent victory. The glaring exception was a block of ship commanders seated on either side of Captain Numos and Captain Faresa, who were stone-faced at best and actively glowering at worst. Geary looked from one of them to the next, reading their ship’s names, and realizing all had been assigned to Formation Fox Five Two during the battle. Some of the officers met his gaze when he looked at them, but most managed to avoid his eyes.

Geary leaned back, taking a moment to sweep his gaze across the rest of the officers “seated” at the table, and Captain Desjani, the only other person physically present in the room. “We’ll be leaving the Kaliban System soon. Our work here is done, and we’ve given the Syndics a bloody nose. I want to personally congratulate every ship in the fleet for the parts they played in winning the recent battle.” The words were met by a lot of smiles and an increase in the antipathy from Numos’s group. “My intent is to leave Kaliban tomorrow. We’ll head for the jump point that provides access to a system named Sutrah. Sutrah probably hasn’t been abandoned, as there’s a good habitable world there, but its unlikely to have much in the way of defenses.”

Numos finally spoke, his voice icy. “Why are we not going to Cadez?”

Geary gave Numos a long look. “Because Cadez is too obvious an objective. It’s on a straight line back to Alliance territory, and it’s on the Syndic hypernet.”

Faresa spoke this time, her tone as acidic as usual. “We can access the Syndic hypernet from there and get home very quickly. Why don’t you want to do that?”

Geary felt heat building in his head. “I want to get home as quickly as any of you.”

“Do you?” Faresa challenged.

“Yes. I’ll remind you, Captain, that any Syndic system on the hypernet can be very easily and quickly reinforced by the Syndics. If I were the Syndic commander and I knew we were at Kaliban, I would have very substantial forces sent to Cadez in order to guard against our arrival there and to prevent our use of the hypernet gate at Cadez.”

Commander Cresida spoke with exaggerated casualness. “Since the Syndics have a gate at Cadez, they don’t need the jump points, do they? They could mine the hell out of the jump exits.”

Captain Tulev nodded. “True.”

Numos made a dismissive gesture. “I for one am not afraid to confront a strong Syndic force.” The words and tone clearly implied that the recent victory at Kaliban didn’t count for much since the Syndic force had been badly outnumbered.

Captain Duellos, looking off into the distance, spoke blandly. “Yet you didn’t do a very impressive job of confronting the Syndic force in the recent battle.”

Numos’s face reddened with anger. Captain Faresa answered, though. “It’s not the fault of Captain Numos that the ships under his command were deliberately mispositioned so as to deny them a proper role in the battle.”

Tulev shook his head. “The fleet commander gave proper orders to all formations. I could hear them as well as you.”

“You were far away from my formation, and far away from the Syndics as well at the time!” Numos snapped.

It was Tulev’s turn to flush. “The ships under my command engaged more enemy units than yours did!”

Geary spoke loudly enough to cut across the argument. “Ladies and gentlemen, we’re not here to question anyone’s courage.”

Numos focused on Geary again, acting as if he’d not heard Geary’s admonition. “Had I been given proper opportunity to engage the enemy, I would’ve left no grounds for anyone to imply I lacked courage!”

“Your orders, if properly followed, would’ve given you ample opportunity,” Geary replied, trying to keep his temper in check.

“You were many light-seconds from the scene of my engagement, yet you insisted on maintaining absolute control of my ships’ movements.”

“I had no trouble doing that with every other formation engaged in the battle, Captain Numos. They followed the orders they were given.”

Numos leaned forward, his voice rising. “Are you saying that the duty of the Captain of a ship of the Alliance fleet is to do nothing except follow orders exactly? That we have no discretion to employ our ships as our many years of combat experience dictates?”

Geary barely refrained from snarling back at Numos, taking a long moment to calm himself before he spoke. “You are well aware that your instructions for this battle included the authority to alter movements as necessary if you believed the tactical situation so required. You had that discretion, Captain Numos. Don’t attempt to blame me or anyone else for the results of your own actions.”

Numos stared back at Geary, his face hard. “Are you accusing me of incompetence? Are you trying to imply that I bear the responsibility for the losses we suffered? Are you—”

“Captain Numos,” Geary ground out, not aware of how his voice sounded until he saw the reactions of others, “the responsibility for all losses in this battle lie with me. I was in command, and I do not shirk from accepting the responsibilities that come with that!” Numos made to speak again, but Geary cut him off. “As for you, sir, you are perilously close to being relieved of your command and all authority if you continue to behave in an insubordinate and unprofessional manner. Do I make myself clear?”

Numos’s jaw worked, but he stayed silent. On one side of him, Captain Faresa was giving Geary a look so fierce that it seemed capable of driving a hole through heavy armor.

Geary looked around the table again. He expected those gathered around Numos would still side with him, but he was surprised to note that many other officers seemed discomforted by Geary’s threat. Then he saw in their faces, in the way they carried themselves, something else, something that shocked him. They’re not entirely happy with the victory, are they? They’re not happy that we won by fighting in a different way. They wanted to win, but not at the cost of changing the way they’re used to fighting, with all its emphasis on individual courage and freewheeling combat. Now they don’t want me cracking down on one of their own and insisting he act with more discipline.

There were exceptions, like Captain Desjani, who still glowed with unalloyed pride at the victory they’d won. It finally hit Geary that the worshippers of Black Jack Geary fell into two camps. The smaller camp, officers like Desjani, were willing to do whatever Geary said because they believed he could do no wrong. The larger camp, though, wanted Geary to lead them to victory without changing anything. They just wanted a legendary hero to lead them in the same glorious charges against the enemy that they’d always employed. And they were having a lot of trouble with the fact that their hero was demanding they fight a type of battle where individual ships truly worked as parts of a greater whole.

They want a hero who’ll reaffirm everything they’ve done before and somehow make it work better. But now they’re realizing I’m not that kind of hero.

The silence stretched, and Geary finally became aware that everyone was still waiting for him to speak again. “I want everyone to know that I’ve never seen a more courageous group of officers. All of you are individually brave and aggressive.” To a fault. Being too willing to die is as bad as being too afraid of dying. How do I convince them of that? “I hope the recent battle has demonstrated how using good tactics—” No. Damn. They’ll think I’m saying they’ve been using bad tactics. Which they have been, but I don’t want to say it. “…effective tactics can enable us to inflict far more serious losses than we receive. We’re a fleet. A combat organization. That gives us immense strength if we use it. I never want any of my captains to feel they can only follow orders exactly. Initiative is very important. Reacting to changing circumstances is very important. Commander Hatherian, may his ancestors honor him, did exactly what I think he should’ve done when he brought Arrogant out of her assigned station in order to protect other ships in peril.”

He couldn’t tell how they were reacting to his words. He was starting to wonder if he’d ever be able to really understand these Alliance sailors, whose thoughts and habits differed from his own by a century’s worth of time and all the changes that had wrought.

“We will go to Sutrah. We’ll evaluate conditions there and whatever we can learn about Syndic movements in deciding on our next objective.” There were some nods of agreement, but everyone stayed silent. “That’s all. Congratulations again on how well you all fought yesterday.”

Geary sat this time, watching the images vanish rapidly. Captain Desjani, seeming slightly puzzled by Geary’s depressed attitude, bade him farewell and hurried off to deal with ship’s business. He became aware that one officer’s image remained in the room once everyone else had disappeared. “Captain Duellos.”

Duellos nodded in response to Geary’s acknowledgement of his continued presence. “You’ve figured it out, haven’t you?”

“I think so. Pardon me for being blunt, but how can they be so damned stupid?”

Duellos sighed and shook his head. “Habit. Tradition. I told you before how important pride is to this fleet. Pride and honor, the last things you can hold on to when everything else is failing. Well, they’re proud of how they’ve fought.”

Geary also shook his head. “Couldn’t they see there’s a better way to fight?”

“Ah, that will take time, if enough time is granted to us.” Duellos quirked a small smile as Geary stared at him. “I decided after we arrived in the Syndic home system and were badly hurt that we’d probably never see home again. So, I’ve accepted we may not make it.”

“We’ll make it.”

“I dare not believe that completely, but if we should make Alliance space once more, I’ll buy you every drink you can handle.” Duellos looked tired. “You must realize the officers you command are not used to firm hands. It’s fortunate you’re not a strict disciplinarian. I’ve read of such. A commander like that would’ve already lost command of the fleet. These officers truly need to be led, but they will not accept the whip.”

“I’m not a whip-employing kind of officer, but I need to show them the old ways work,” Geary stated.

“Yes. But it’ll take time, as I said. Time to forget one set of habits and acquire a new set. Time to gather victories that reinforce the new habits.” Duellos stood, preparing to leave. “Do not despair, I beg you. We all need you, even those who don’t think they need you. Perhaps I should say, especially those who don’t think they need you.”

Geary gave Duellos a tight-lipped smile. “I can’t afford to give up.”

“No. You can’t.” Duellos saluted, then his image vanished.

Geary pushed himself up from his seat, glaring at the now empty compartment. I need to hold fewer meetings. No. As much as I hate them, I have to keep holding meetings. It’s my only chance to see all of these officers, even though I’m not liking what I’m seeing.

He walked back to his stateroom, so lost in thought that he was surprised to find himself at the hatch. Rubbing his eyes, he considered a med-patch but decided against it. The meds were guaranteed not to cause physical addiction, but the last thing he needed was psychological addiction to the temporary comfort they brought.

This day’s already gone to hell, so I might as well catch up on paperwork. Geary called up his message queue and cycled through incoming material as fast as possible, until he came to one that made him pause. “Intelligence exploitation report regarding Syndicate Worlds facilities in the Kaliban System.” I didn’t think the Syndics had left anything worth exploiting.

He began reading, then started skimming as it became apparent the Syndics had indeed left little of interest behind, and what there was of interest was decades old and therefore of doubtful use.

Wait a minute. Geary stopped scrolling and paged back to find whatever had caught his attention. There it is. “The security vault at the headquarters facility had been breached at some point long after the departure of the Syndicate Worlds authorities. This assessment was reached after examining damage done to the vault by its physical breaching via the use of power tools. Analysis of the stress fracturing of the metal cut through indicates it was at ambient environmental temperature when the power tools were employed, which could only have been the case after the facility had been mothballed and abandoned for some time. As far as could be determined, the vault was empty when sealed, so the reasons for the breach are undetermined. Since attempted intelligence collection by Alliance assets could not account for the damage, it was most likely caused by criminal elements, though their reasons for trying to access a security vault in an abandoned facility cannot be understood. It is also impossible to know why those breaching the vault made use of drill bits whose diameters match none of those used within the Syndicate Worlds or the Alliance. We can only assume the nonstandard drill bits were employed to prevent their source from being identified.”

Geary read through that section of the report several times, trying to figure out what bothered him. The fact that the security vault had been breached long before the Alliance fleet had arrived at Kaliban made no sense at all, of course. Someone must’ve believed something valuable would be in there, but the Syndics were fanatical about following standard procedure, and surely anyone associated with the Syndics would know that standard procedure presumably included removing everything from the security vault before the star system was abandoned.

The speculation about using nonstandard drill bits to avoid being traced. That was it. The conclusion stood logic on its head. It’d be far easier to trace nonstandard drill bits than it would standard bits, since uncounted millions of such standard bits existed in both the Syndicate Worlds and the Alliance.

But that left the question begging. Why go to the immense trouble of using nonstandard drill bits?

Unless those were the only drill bits you had. Because you didn’t belong to the Syndicate Worlds or any worlds known to the Alliance.

That’s quite a leap, Geary. You wouldn’t have even thought of that if the Marines hadn’t raised the possibility that the Syndics were worried about some nonhuman intelligences. But even the Marines didn’t want to stand by that conclusion. They just felt they had to bring it up. Wiped operating systems and nonstandard drill bits aren’t exactly strong proof that there’s alien intelligences wandering around Syndic space.

But I have to wonder. This report about the nonstandard drill bits made them fit a predictable scenario even though it didn’t really make sense. How many other small things like that have been filed away and forgotten because someone came up with an alternate explanation? An explanation that didn’t involve making an assertion, that alien intelligences might be involved, which would’ve gotten people laughed at? I’ve gone through the classified files on Dauntless and found nothing about evidence of nonhuman intelligences. But even in my time the overriding assumption was that we were alone out here, and facts tend to be bent until they corroborate overriding assumptions.

The chime on his hatch announced the presence of a visitor. He didn’t really feel like talking to anyone, but couldn’t justify turning away what might be important business. “Come in.”

Victoria Rione entered, her face composed, as usual giving no clue to her inner thoughts. “Captain Geary, may we speak?”

He stood up, suddenly uncomfortably aware of how rumpled his uniform was. “Sure. I hope it’s nothing too serious.” Like accusing me of being a dictator in training again. “Is there something I can ask you first?”

“Certainly.”

He waved her to a seat, then took his own again. “Madam Co-President, I assume you’d be willing to share any classified information with me if I asked.”

She gave him a questioning look. “You have access to every classified piece of information on this ship, Captain Geary.”

Geary lowered his head so she couldn’t see his grimace. “There may be things too sensitive to be in the databases of even a fleet flagship. Information kept within governing channels.”

Rione shook her head slowly. “I don’t know which information you might be referring to.”

“Is there anything known to the Alliance, that you are aware of, regarding any nonhuman intelligences?”

Her head froze in midshake. “Why are you asking this?”

“Because something at Kaliban led some of my officers to speculate about it.”

“I’d like to hear what it was. In response to your question, I’m not aware of anything like that. I’ve certainly never seen anything along those lines.” She looked upward as if expecting to see signs of an alien intelligence somehow visible there. “Encountering a nonhuman intelligence would be a very significant event in human history. They might be able to tell us a great deal. Perhaps help explain things we don’t understand. Maybe even explain things about ourselves we don’t understand.” She gave a brief, humorless laugh. “Such as why we’ve spent a hundred standard years fighting a war. Or even why it started in the first place.”

Geary had been about to say more, but he stopped at her last words. “We never learned why the Syndics launched their first attacks?”

Rione gave him a speculative look. “No. Not the timing, anyway. As I think you can confirm, the first attacks were a total surprise because there’d been no indications that tensions had risen to such a level.”

He brooded on her statement, remembering so clearly the shock he’d felt at Grendel when it became clear that a Syndic attack was underway. Total surprise, just as she said. “I’d assumed the reasons had become clear by now.”

“No. Our best assessments provide complex answers, Captain Geary. There’s no clarity. There appear to have been many factors.”

“ ‘Appear to have been.’ ” He chewed his lower lip for a moment. “Then we still don’t know exactly why they did it? Why they attacked when they did? Why they attacked at all?”

“No,” Rione repeated. “Not for certain. Their Executive Council doesn’t share its deliberations with anyone. The answer is surely buried in the secret records of the Syndicate Worlds’ leadership.”

Geary nodded at her words, but his mind had generated a question he couldn’t ignore. “Then we don’t know of any … external factors that might’ve influenced the Syndics’ actions?”

She spread her hands in a gesture of incomprehension. “I don’t know what you could be speaking of. External factors?” Her eyes widened. “You’re not talking about nonhuman intelligences, are you? Is that why you asked about them? You’re not suggesting they were somehow involved or caused the war, are you?”

“No. No, of course not.” I’m a long way from wanting to openly suggest such a thing. But I’m wondering. If the Syndics did encounter nonhuman intelligences, how long ago was it? More than forty-two years ago, certainly, if what the Syndics did when they shut down Kaliban means what it might mean.

Did the Syndics encounter alien intelligences? When did they find them? What happened?

Did it have anything to do with the start of this war? Could it perhaps explain why the Syndics attacked, and why this war has continued even though victory seems impossible for either side? But how could it have had anything to do with either of those things?

Outwardly, Geary smiled politely. “Thank you, Madam Co-President. Now, what did you need from me?”

Rione seemed a bit surprised that Geary had changed the subject, but she went along without protest. “I feel I should tell you what the commanders of my ships have told me. Those loyal to Captain Numos are attempting to spread a tale around the fleet that you deliberately kept him and the ships in his formation out of the battle so you could claim all the glory.”

Geary found himself laughing for a moment. “Unfortunately, I already know that. I’m sure your ship commanders will soon provide you with the ugly details of my latest conference.”

“Then you’ve already confronted the issue?”

“Confronted it? Yes.” Geary let his feelings show. “Dealt with it? That’s another thing. There are some larger issues involved.”

“You mean the discontent over your changes to the Alliance fleet’s manner of fighting?”

Geary just stared at her for a long moment. “Just how many spies do you have inside my fleet, Madam Co-President?”

She actually managed to look slightly shocked at the question. “Why would I have spies in a friendly fleet, Captain Geary?”

“I can think of a lot of reasons,” he suggested, “many involving keeping track of what the fleet commander is up to. I’m beginning to think you didn’t entirely trust Admiral Bloch, either.”

Rione made a noncommittal expression. “Admiral Bloch was an ambitious man.”

“And I already know what you think of ambitious men.”

“I feel the same way about ambitious women, Captain Geary. Are you proud of your victory here at Kaliban?”

He started to simply say yes, surprised by sudden question, but then paused as other thoughts overtook him. “In some ways,” he finally admitted. “It was my first fleet action. I think I called the maneuvers pretty well. I did a decent job of predicting the enemy’s moves. But it wasn’t perfect.” He paused again. “I wish I could’ve done the same without losing a single ship or sailor. But I’m proud of this fleet. They fought well.”

“Indeed. The results of the battle were gratifying.”

“Is that how you feel now, Madam Co-President? Do you have no regrets about letting me retain control of the ships from your republic and the Rift Federation?”

She shook her head. “No. As long as we’re being candid … and we are being candid, aren’t we, Captain Geary?… I should tell you something you may learn regardless. My ship commanders are impressed with our victory in the battle, though a majority of them share with many Alliance officers unease regarding the way it was fought. They had a greater skepticism of this Black Jack Geary person than sailors of the Alliance did, of course, since to them you were a foreign hero. Now,” she blew out a long breath, “they are more inclined to believe there is some truth behind the myth.”

“Ancestors help me.” Geary let his feelings show, trusting Rione now to that extent. “There’s no truth behind that myth, as you well know.”

She clenched her teeth so tightly her jaw muscles stood out. “On the contrary, and as I have told you, Captain Geary. You are that figure of myth.”

“You know that’s not true!”

“I know you saved this fleet in the Syndic home system, I know you have brought it this far and won an overwhelming victory, and I know no ordinary man could’ve done that!” Rione was glaring at him as if daring Geary to deny her statement.

Instead of responding with anger, Geary found himself laughing in self-mockery. “My dear Madam Co-President, I’d never have made it this far if a lot of people hadn’t thought I was the living stars’ gift to the Alliance fleet. But you know as well as I, there are plenty of people with growing doubts as to the truth of that.”

Rione smiled back, though her voice had more sarcasm than humor to it. “I have a feeling you’ll find a way to cope, Captain Geary.”

He returned the sarcasm full force, bowing slightly toward her. “Thank you for your confidence in me.”

She stood up, walking away a few steps before turning to look at him again. “I notice you said ‘confidence’ and not ‘trust.’ ”

He shrugged. “Same thing.”

“No, it’s not. I’ll share one more confidence with you, Captain Geary. I’m not superhuman. I very much want to believe in you, to believe you are the hope we all need, a gift from our ancestors. But I don’t dare do so.”

Geary’s smile vanished, and he looked down at the deck for a moment. “That makes two of us who don’t dare believe that. If I do, I’ll be more dangerous to this fleet than the enemy.”

“Agreed. You make it hard to doubt you.” She smiled again, and this time it seemed genuine. “You have won your victory at Kaliban. What are you going to do now, Captain Geary?”

Geary walked over to stare at the starscape. For the first time in a long time, he searched through it until he recognized some of the stars in Alliance space. So far to go yet. His grandnephew Michael Geary, who’d died on his ship Repulse in the Syndic home system, would never see Alliance space again. Nor would the crew of the Arrogant. But there were a lot of ships’ crews left who were still counting on him, believing Black Jack could get them back to their homes, and a grandniece back in Alliance space who could tell him about the family he’d lost to time. “What am I going to do? As I’m sure you’ve already heard, I’m going to take this fleet to Sutrah. Eventually, I’m going to take this fleet home, no matter who or what stands in the way.”