Dauntless

TWO

Silence hung in the room for a moment, then Captain Faresa spoke again, her voice and expression still harsh. “How, Captain? What magic will you use? We have less than an hour remaining before the Syndic deadline expires.”

Geary gave her an equally harsh look, but he could gaze down the ranks of ship commanders and see that his command authority hung on a knife-edge. For the first time, he noticed how young many of them were. Younger than the ship captains he’d known a century ago and clearly less hardened or experienced than those captains. Too many of them were watching and waiting, ready to jump in any direction. And if they started jumping, the entire fleet might fall apart and leave the Syndics with easy pickings. “Then we’d better use that time thinking instead of hurling barbs at each other, shouldn’t we?” He pointed at the center of the table, where the display portrayed the ships of the Alliance fleet. The most heavily damaged ships had formed into a rough sphere. Between them and the looming wall of the Syndic fleet, a rectangular wall of Alliance ships spread out, bent into a crescent facing the enemy. It looked impressive, until you totaled up the ships involved and realized the waiting Syndic sledgehammer would shatter the Alliance crescent as if it were made of glass.

Captain Duellos pointed as well. “Unfortunately, this display is accurate, and neither the realities of war nor the laws of physics have changed since your last battle, Captain Geary. We’re here, the Syndics are here only two and a half light-minutes away from our leading elements, and the hypernet gate is”—his hand swung around to an area on the other side of the enemy fleet—“here, thirty light-minutes from us, on the wrong side of the enemy.”

“If we could have a few more hours to repair our damaged ships,” someone suggested.

“A few more hours or a few more days wouldn’t help,” another shot back. “The Syndics are repairing their damage, too. And they can count on reinforcements and resupply coming through that gate behind them!”

Duellos nodded to Geary. “I agree. Time is not on our side, even if the Syndic deadline is not enforced.”

Geary nodded back, his eyes once again tracking along the officers ranked around the table. “We can’t hold off an attack. Nor can we attack them and have any expectation of survival.”

Numos spoke again, his face red. “Individual ships might be able to—”

“To what, Captain? Get to that … gate? Then what?” Geary heard a collective intake of breath. “This fleet has a Syndic hypernet key. I know that. But I assume the ships using it must go through together.” A murmur of agreement came. “I repeat, an-every-ship-for-itself plan will not be followed by this fleet, and any commanding officer who tries it will be court-martialed by me if I can catch them, or killed by the Syndics when they reach that gate alone and can’t get through it.” Silence.

Geary sat back and rubbed his chin. “That’s what we can’t do. But it’s not every option. Perhaps one of you can explain this to me.” He hesitated over the display controls, finally finding the right ones. “Here.” Geary pointed to a spot slightly behind and off to the side from the Alliance forces. “Twenty light-minutes away from the Alliance ships nearest to it. Why isn’t this guarded?”

Everyone frowned and craned to look. Finally, Captain Faresa gave Geary one of her looks, one that seemed capable of eating away metal. “Because it’s meaningless.”

“Meaningless.” Geary let the word hang for a moment, wondering as he did so if he could figure out a legitimate way to avoid having to see Faresa’s face again. “That’s the system jump point.” Shrugs met his statement. “Dammit, why can’t we use that to get out of this?”

Duellos spoke slowly. “Captain Geary, there’s likely only one or two stars within jump range of that point.”

“There’s only one,” Geary stated flatly. It hadn’t been hard to look up that piece of information. “Corvus.”

“Then you see the problem, sir. The system jump method is too limited in range. The Corvus System is itself only a few light years away, and still deeply buried within Syndic territory.”

“I know that. But from Corvus we could jump to any of”—he checked his figures—“three other systems.” Geary could see the other officers exchanging looks, but no one spoke. “From one of those systems we could jump to others.”

Captain Faresa shook her head. “You aren’t seriously suggesting getting back to Alliance space by using system jump drives, are you?”

“Why not? It’s still faster-than-light.”

“Not nearly faster-than-light enough! Do you have any idea how deep in Syndic space we are?”

Geary openly glared at her. “Since the shape of the galaxy hasn’t altered appreciably since my last command, yes, I do know how deep we are in Syndic space. So we’ve got a long haul out of here. It’s a chance. Do you prefer dying here?”

“Better that than commit slow suicide! We don’t have the supplies to sustain that kind of journey. It would take many months. Perhaps years, depending on the route. But that’s irrelevant, because the Syndic fleet will simply get there ahead of us and destroy us as we arrive!”

Geary was trying to tamp down his anger enough to formulate an answer, when Captain Desjani began speaking as if to herself. “Corvus System isn’t on the Syndic hypernet. The Syndic fleet couldn’t beat us there.” Desjani looked around. “They’d have to follow us through the same system jump point. That’d take time.”

Captain Duellos nodded eagerly. “Yes! We’d have a free window to transit Corvus to our next jump point. Not a long one, but time enough. Then the Syndics would have to guess what our next destination would be.”

“We don’t have the supplies!” Faresa insisted. Duellos glared at her in a way that made it clear there was no love lost between them. “Who even knows what’s at Corvus?”

“It can’t be that important,” someone suggested. “Not if the system isn’t on the Syndic hypernet.”

“We don’t know what’s there!”

“Captain Faresa.” She turned to glare at Geary as he gestured to the representation of the Syndic fleet. “We know what’s here, don’t we? Can anything in Corvus be worse? We’ll face better odds no matter what, and we’ll have the transit time in jump space to repair internal damage to the ships.”

Heads nodded and smiles started to appear. “But, supplies…” Faresa tried to insist.

“I assume there’s something at Corvus.” Geary craned his head to look at the data. “This says there was a Syndic self-defense base. Do those still stock supplies that Syndic ships passing through could draw on?”

“They used to…”

“They’ll have something. And there’s an inhabited planet in that system. There’ll be some off-planet facilities, in-system traffic. Stuff we can get parts and food and other essentials off of.” Geary studied the display, lost for the moment in calculation and momentarily unaware of the other officers. “It’d be a snatch-and-grab through Corvus. The Syndics will be coming out of that jump point behind us as fast as they can, so it’ll be a race to get our slower and more heavily damaged ships through the system before we can be caught.” He looked around, seeing uncertainty on many faces. “We can do this.”

Captain Tulev spoke again. “Captain Geary, I must warn that getting to the jump point here will not be easy.”

“It’s not guarded.”

“No. But the Syndic fleet is close, and they have some very fast ships. They can leave their slower ships behind to catch up. We can’t.”

Geary nodded. “Very true. Ladies and gentlemen, I will stall the Syndics as long as I can. But as soon as we start moving—”

“Captain.” A short woman, her eyes intense, leaned forward. “We could maneuver the fleet, look like we’re reorganizing to meet an attack, and get those damaged and slow ships closer to the jump point under cover of those movements.”

Geary smiled. Commander Cresida of the Furious. He’d have to remember her, too. “Do you have some ideas?”

“Yes. I do.”

“Let me see them as soon as you can work them out.”

“It’ll be a pleasure, Captain Geary.” Cresida leaned back again, her scornful gaze directed toward the area where Numos and Faresa were sitting.

Geary looked at everyone again. Still shaky. But I’m giving them something to do. Something that might work, even if seems such a long shot they wouldn’t even consider it without me pushing them. Face it, Geary, without you they wouldn’t have even thought of it because they were all fixated on that hypernet gate, doing the enemy’s job for them by closing out their own options. “Then let’s get going.” Instead of responding directly, the other captains all exchanged surprised looks. “What’s wrong? Somebody tell me.”

Captain Desjani spoke with visible reluctance. “It’s customary for proposed courses of actions to be finalized, then debated by the senior officers and ship commanders, with a vote afterward to affirm support.”

“A vote?” He stared at her, then around the table. No wonder Admiral Bloch had sometimes struck him as a politician running for office. “When the hell did this ‘custom’ begin?”

Desjani grimaced. “I’m not personally familiar—”

“Well, I don’t have time for a history lesson right now. And we don’t have time to debate what to do. I may not know what everything is like now, but one thing I do know is that waiting, paralyzed, for a snake to strike is the worst possible course of action. Indecision kills ships and fleets. We have to act and act decisively in the time we have. I will not conduct any votes while I am in command. I am open to suggestions and proposals. I want input from you. But I am in command. That’s what you want, isn’t it? You want Black Jack Geary to lead you out of this mess, don’t you? Well, then, by the living stars I will lead you, but I will do so in the best way I know how!”

He subsided, watching them, wondering if he’d pushed too far. A long moment passed. Then Commander Cresida leaned forward again. “I’ve got orders to follow. Orders from the fleet commander. I don’t have time for nonsense when there’s work to do on the Furious. Captain Geary?”

Geary gave her a grin. “By all means, Commander.”

Cresida vanished from her place at the table as she broke the connection. Then, as if her words and action had been a domino falling, all of the other officers hastily rose and bid farewells. Geary got the sense that, ironically, many of them saw further debate as a harder option than following Geary at this point.

Geary watched them vanish with an odd sense of longing. There ought to be handshakes and conversation as they all filed through the hatch, a few moments of personal interaction forced upon everyone by the need to move a lot of people in a big room through one small doorway. But not here, and not now. The figures of his subordinates simply popped out of existence, and the apparent great size of the room and its massive conference table dwindled as its virtual occupants vanished, until within moments it was an unremarkable compartment dominated by an unremarkable conference table.

However, aside from the real presence of Captain Desjani still standing nearby, two small clusters of officers remained. Geary frowned at them, noticing for the first time that their uniforms differed in small ways from that of the Alliance fleet. He concentrated on their identification. One set of officers belonged to the Rift Federation, while the other slightly larger group were part of the Callas Republic. He remembered both associations of planets. Neither the Rift Federation nor the Republic had contained many inhabited worlds in his time, and both had been neutral. Events had clearly drawn them into the war on the side of the Alliance, though. Geary nodded toward them, wondering just how much authority he could wield over these allies. “Yes?”

The Rift Federation officers looked toward the Republic officers, who made way for a woman in a civilian suit. Geary fought back a frown as he saw her. I didn’t say no one but ship commanders could attend, did I? I don’t think so. Who is this? The identification tag next to her image read “C-P Rione.” What does that mean?

The woman eyed Geary, her face impassive. “Are you aware that under the terms of our agreement, our ships may be withdrawn from Alliance control if competent authority should determine they are not being employed in the best interests of our home worlds?”

“No. I didn’t know that. I assume you’re the ‘competent authority’ in question?”

“Yes.” She inclined her head very slightly toward Geary. “I am Co-President Victoria Rione of the Callas Republic.”

Geary glanced at Captain Desjani, who shrugged apologetically, then back at Victoria Rione. “I’m honored to meet you, ma’am. But there’s a great deal to do—”

She held up one hand, palm out. “Please, Captain Geary. I must insist upon a private conference with you.”

“I’m sure there’ll be plenty of time—”

“Before I commit our ships to your command.” She looked toward the Rift Federation officers. “The ships of the Rift Navy have agreed to follow my recommendations on the matter.”

Well, damn. Another glance at Desjani earned a shake of her head. He’d have to go through with this. “Where…?”

Desjani stepped away. “Here, Captain Geary. I’ll leave the room, and a virtual privacy shield will drop around you and the Co-President. When you’ve finished the private conference, say ‘end private conference end’ and you’ll both be able to interact with the other officers again if you want to.” She hastened out the hatch as if happy to be able to avoid this engagement at least.

Geary watched her go, composing his face as carefully as he could. Wishing he could return to the numbed state he’d endured since being awakened, he turned to face the politician, whose cold stare apparently hadn’t left Geary at any point. “What is it you want to talk about?”

“Trust.” Her voice wasn’t a single degree warmer than her expression. “Specifically, why I should entrust the surviving ships of the Republic to your command.”

Geary looked down, rubbing his forehead, then back at her. “I could point out that the only alternative is to entrust their fate to the Syndics, and we’ve recently seen how the Syndics do business.”

“They might deal differently with us, Captain.”

Then go get your precious rear end shot off by the Syndic special forces and see if I care! But he knew he’d need every ship he could, and part of him hated to think of leaving anyone behind, willingly or not. “I don’t think that’d be a good idea.”

“If so, explain why, Captain Geary.”

He took a deep breath and matched her glare. “Because the Syndics massacred Admiral Bloch and everyone with him when they tried to negotiate with all the ships we’ve got left backing them up. You’ll be negotiating with a fraction of that amount of backing. Do you think the Syndics will deal better within someone in a much weaker position?”

“I see.” She looked away at last and began pacing back and forth down one side of the room. “You don’t think the combined ships of the Republic and the Federation will impress the Syndics.”

“I don’t think the combined ships of the Republic, the Federation, and the Alliance have a snowball’s chance in hell of surviving against an all-out attack by the forces the Syndics have arrayed out there. We could hurt them, maybe badly, but not survive. And unless the Syndics have completely changed since I knew them last, they never deal fairly. The stronger party imposes whatever terms it thinks it can enforce.”

Rione stopped pacing, looking down at the deck, then back at him. “That’s right. You’ve thought this out from more than a purely combat viewpoint.”

Geary reached for the nearest seat and slumped into it. He hadn’t exerted himself this much, physically or emotionally, since his rescue, and the fleet physicians had clucked anxiously over him on just those counts after he’d been thawed out. No telling what results such a long hibernation might have on Geary’s physiology, they’d warned. I guess I get to field-test the question. “Yes, Madam Co-President. I did try to think it out.”

“Don’t patronize me. These ships are the life of my Republic. If they’re destroyed—”

“I want to get every ship that I can home.”

“Really? Instead of regrouping and trying to stage a brilliant counterattack resulting in a glorious victory? Isn’t that what you really want, Captain Geary?”

Geary just looked at her, not bothering to hide his weariness. “You seem to think you know me.”

“I do know you, Captain Geary. I’ve heard all about you. You’re a Hero. I don’t like Heroes, Captain. Heroes lead armies and fleets to their deaths.”

Geary sat back, rubbing his eyes now. “I’m supposed to be dead,” he reminded her.

“Which makes you all the more a case in point.” Rione took two steps toward the situation display still visible on the conference table and pointed to it. “Do you know why Admiral Bloch took this chance, why he gambled so much of the Alliance’s power on this operation?”

“He told me it looked like a way to finally force an end to the war.”

“Oh, yes.” Rione nodded, her eyes still on the display. “A daring and bold blow. An operation worthy of Black Jack Geary himself,” she added softly. “That’s a quote, Captain.”

Geary stiffened. “He never said anything like that to me.”

“Of course not. But he said it to others. And invoking the spirit of the great Black Jack Geary helped win approval for this attack. Which as you see, has gone so well.”

“Don’t blame me for this! I’m going to get what’s left of this fleet out of it if I can, but I didn’t put it here to begin with!”

She paused, as if listening intently to Geary. “Why did you assume command?”

“Why?” He waved one hand toward the hatch. “Because Admiral Bloch asked me to. Ordered me to! And then … they…” He glowered at the deck, unwilling to look at her. “I didn’t have any choice.”

“You fought to assert your authority. I saw that, Captain Geary.”

“I had to. Without someone taking command, someone with a legitimate right to command, this fleet would’ve fallen apart and been destroyed in detail by the Syndics. You must’ve seen that, too.”

She bent down, and her eyes sought his. “Can I trust Black Jack Geary? That’s who you are.”

“I’m an officer of the Alliance. And … I have a job to do. If I can.” He tried to bite off the last three words and failed, not wanting to show any weakness of spirit, not sure how that might harm the fleet’s already slim chances. “That’s all I am.”

“All? Not the hero of legend?” She came closer, peering at him. “Who are you, then?”

“I thought you said you already knew that.”

“I know Black Jack Geary, and I fear that the great Black Jack Geary will try to do something heroic that will seal the fate of this fleet and perhaps that of the Alliance and of my own people as well. Are you Black Jack Geary?”

He laughed, unable to control it. “Nobody could be him.”

She spent a long moment watching him, then turned and walked a few steps away again. “Where’s the hypernet key?”

“What?”

She spun, eyes flashing. “The Syndic hypernet key. I know there’s one still in the fleet. If it had been destroyed, you’d have told everyone that to ensure they followed your plan. It still exists. Where is it?”

“I’m sorry, but—”

“Does it still exist?”

He met her eyes, trying to decide what to do, what to say, and hating the idea of lying. “Yes.”

“Where?”

“I’d prefer not to say.”

“Suppose I said I’d agree to place my ships and those of the Federation under your command if you told me?”

He managed a crooked half-smile. “I’d still prefer not to say, but for the sake of those ships, I’d tell you.”

“You’d agree to that? You know the importance of that information?”

“Yes. And yes, I’d agree to tell you, if that’s what it took to get those ships out of here with the rest of the fleet.”

Co-President Rione’s eyes narrowed. “I could then trade that information to the Syndics in exchange for safe passage.”

That hadn’t occurred to him. He glared at her. “Why the hell are you telling me that?”

“To let you know that misplaced trust can be deadly. But you were willing to grant trust to me. I’ll be blunt, Captain Geary, I’m agreeing to this only because I don’t see any other choice. The ships of the Republic will remain in this fleet, and I’m certain the Rift Federation ships will follow my recommendation to do so as well. But I reserve the right to remove those ships from your command whenever I see fit.”

He shrugged. “It doesn’t look like I’ve got any other choice, either, do I?”

Rione actually smiled. “No, you don’t.”

“Thank you.” Geary paused, then stood carefully, one hand supporting himself on the chair. “There’s something I’d like from you.” The Co-President frowned. “I need a politician. Someone who can make an argument last as long as possible. Someone good with saying lots of words that don’t mean what they sound like, and avoiding commitments.”

“Why, thank you, Captain Geary.” Apparently Co-President Rione did have a sense of humor buried somewhere inside her.

“Don’t mention it.” He waved at the display, where the wall of Syndic ships loomed over the Alliance fleet. “The Syndic deadline isn’t more than half an hour away, now. We’re going to need every minute we can get to repair damage and reposition our fleet in readiness to bolt for that jump point. Can you speak to the Syndics, string them along and try to keep them from moving in as long as possible?”

“You mean on behalf of the Republic and the Rift, or of the entire fleet?”

“Whatever works. Whatever will keep them talking. Just buy us some time, Madam Co-President. As much as you possibly can.”

She nodded. “That’s a reasonable request, Captain Geary. I will open the talks with the Syndics as soon as I board my shuttle.”

He stared at her. “Shuttle? You’re not going to—”

“The Syndic flagship? No, Captain Geary. I’m coming here. To the Dauntless. I want to keep a personal eye on you. And on a certain very important piece of equipment. Oh, yes. You told me nothing. But I believe I can best safeguard the interests of my people by being on your ship.”

Geary took a deep breath, then nodded. “I’ll notify Captain Desjani you’re coming.”

“Thank you, Captain Geary.” Another smile, as challenging as her eyes. “Now I shall attempt to frighten the Syndics into giving us all more time.” With that, her image vanished.

Geary sat for a moment looking at the spot that Rione had seemed to occupy. Maybe she can frighten the Syndics into holding off a little while longer. She sure scares me.

Captain Desjani took the news of Co-President Rione’s imminent arrival as if it were just one more malign event in a day filled with them. “At least we’ve still got those ships with us.”

“Yes.” Geary looked around. “Captain Desjani, where’s Admiral Bloch’s staff?”

“His staff?”

“Yes. All the officers assigned to him as fleet commander. Where are they? I’d think they’d have sought me out.”

Desjani looked briefly puzzled, then her expression cleared. “Oh, I understand. You’re thinking of the old days. I’m sorry,” she added hastily in apparent response to the reaction she saw on Geary’s face, “but much has changed. We’ve been short of experienced officers for a long time. The staffs you knew have been cannibalized so those officers would be free to be assigned to ships.”

Geary shook his head. “Losses have been that bad?”

“Bad?” Desjani hesitated. “We’ve lost many ships over the course of the war. The Syndics have lost more,” she added hastily.

“I was wondering why many of the ship commanders seemed so young.”

“There’s … not always the luxury of allowing officers a long career before they’re needed to command ships.”

“I understand,” Geary stated, even though he didn’t really understand at all. All these young commanding officers, all these new ships … he felt the ice inside him again for a moment as he realized all of the ships whose data he’d examined were new or nearly new. Geary had assumed that was because older ships had been left behind since they were less capable. Now he wondered just how many older ships there were, just what the typical lifespan of the officers, sailors, and ships of the Alliance had dwindled to under the pressure of this war.

Captain Desjani was still explaining, as if she felt the need to personally justify the situation. “Losses haven’t always been bad. But sometimes we lose a lot. A century of war drains a lot of ships and sailors from a fleet.” She looked both angry and weary. “A lot of them. Admiral Bloch did have two senior aides assigned. You may not have seen them board the shuttle with him to go to the Syndic flagship, along with Admiral Bloch’s chief of staff.”

“No.” But then I wasn’t aware of much of anything at that point.

“They’re all dead now, of course. There’s some junior officers who were seconded to the staff, but they’re all ship’s company. They’ve got primary jobs on the Dauntless.”

“I assume they’re needed there right now.”

“Yes, although one of them’s dead and another’s too badly injured to leave sick bay. I would like to continue using the other two in their primary duties—”

Geary held up one hand to forestall further words. “By all means. I’ll see them when conditions permit. Can you tell me how Admiral Bloch ran a fleet with such a small staff?”

Desjani made a face. “By only doing what needed to be done and leaving the rest to his ship commanders, I suppose. And the support systems available to you are very effective.” She checked the time and looked alarmed. “Captain Geary, with your permission, I really must get back to the bridge.”

“Permission granted.” Desjani was hastening away even as Geary’s arm quivered in anticipation of returning a farewell salute that never came. Am I going to have to get used to that, or am I going to have to change the way they do things? He looked over at the Marine, still standing at attention outside the entry to the conference room a short distance away. “Thank you.” The Marine obliged with a rigidly proper salute, which Geary returned.

He started to head after Desjani, knowing he should be on the bridge as well, but felt his legs suddenly wavering as if their strength had fled again. Geary put out a hand, leaning on the bulkhead, and when certain of his balance, began walking slowly toward his stateroom.

He dropped gratefully into the chair, breathing heavily. I can’t afford this now. There’s too much to do. He dug inside a drawer, coming up with a med-pack containing the fleet physicians’ best estimate of what he’d need to keep going. They told me this stuff won’t interfere with my thinking. What if it does? But if I don’t take it I won’t be able to do my job anyway.

I need to stop getting into situations where all my options are potentially bad.

He slapped the med-pack against his arm, feeling the slight tingle that meant it was doing its work. It’d take a few moments to feel the effect, so he called up the support systems that Desjani had mentioned.

As soon as he did so, he saw a message from Commander Cresida of the Furious. It contained the plan she’d promised to reposition the fleet ships in preparation for fleeing to the jump point. Geary studied it as carefully as he could, feeling the pressure of time weighing on him. Less than half an hour, perhaps, before the Syndics moved; less than that if they’d lied about how long they’d give the Alliance ship commanders to make up their minds. Once all the Alliance ships were in position, or once the Syndics started moving if that happened first, the plan called for the code name Overture to signal the fleet’s withdrawal toward the jump point.

He felt a surge of frustration as he scanned ship names, wishing he knew more about how they’d move and how they’d fight. Numos was right that my knowledge is outdated, but my ancestors know I’m still a better commander than he’ll ever be. And as he’d told Numos, right now acting instead of waiting was paramount. Muttering a quick prayer, he marked the plan approved and tagged it to be transmitted to the fleet.

He started to stand up, felt a quiver of unsteadiness still there, and sat again, forcing himself to wait a few more minutes. Turning back to the fleet statistics, Geary began scanning through them, trying to absorb as much knowledge of the ships as he could. As he’d suspected, they were all new or nearly so. If the average age of those ships meant what he thought it did, losses must have been, must still be, staggering.

The loss of a ship didn’t necessarily mean the loss of the entire crew of course, but you’d still lose a lot of people.

Geary stared at the rough edge on his desk, finally realizing what it told him. Ships being churned out as fast as they could be built to replace losses in battles. Officers and sailors being rushed through training to crew those ships, then promoted quickly to replace those also lost in combat. And as those inexperienced crews in hastily constructed ships were hurled into battle, they kept taking heavy losses, dying too fast to learn. How long had the fleet been caught in that death spiral? No wonder they forgot to salute. No wonder they’ve forgotten how a fleet should be commanded. They’re all amateurs. Amateurs with the lives of their shipmates and the fate of the Alliance in their hands. Am I the only trained professional left in this entire fleet?

What happened to all the ships and people I knew? Did they all die in battle while I slept?

Not wanting to think about that, Geary tried to concentrate on the data before him again, scrolling it quickly so he’d have to pay close attention. He frowned, suddenly half-aware of something he’d just skimmed over, and looked back again carefully. There it was. Alliance battle cruiser Repulse, commanding officer Commander Michael J. Geary. Michael Geary was my brother’s name. But he has to be long dead, and he never entered the fleet that I know of. Not before I went to sleep for a century, anyway.

Do I have time to follow up on this? But we’re going into battle, and if something happens I might never know. Geary hesitated, then punched in the code to speak to the commanding officer of the Repulse. It took a few moments, then an unnervingly almost-familiar face appeared. “Yes, sir?”

Neither the tone nor the expression of the Repulse’s commander seemed welcoming, but Geary couldn’t stop from asking, not after seeing that face. “Pardon me, Commander Geary, but I’d like to know if we’re related.”

The other’s face stayed hard and unyielding. “Yes.”

“How? Are you—”

“My grandfather was your brother.”

The ice threatened to take him again. His brother. A few years younger than him once upon a time. Geary was looking at a face reflecting the inheritance his brother had passed on to a grandchild, and suddenly the loss of his own time felt unbearable, and not just because the Repulse’s commander looked to be quite a few years older than Geary’s own apparent age. His grandnephew had beaten the odds by surviving this long, but that didn’t seem to have brought him any joy. “What…” Geary looked away and took a deep, shuddering breath. “I’m sorry. I don’t know anything about you and … and … my brother. What happened to him?”

“He lived and he died,” Geary’s grandnephew stated flatly.

Something about the hostility brought Geary’s temper out. “I know that. He was my brother, you cold bastard.”

“Do you need anything else, sir?”

Geary glared at the man, seeing the signs of age there along with lines imparted by strong emotions. His grandnephew was certainly a couple of decades older than Geary, and those years hadn’t been kind to him. “Yes. There is something else. What the hell did I ever do to you?”

The other man actually smiled, though the expression held no humor. “You? Nothing. Not to me, or to my father, or to my grandfather. Grandfather used to say he’d have traded the honors for having you back, but then he lived in the glow of Black Jack Geary, Hero of the Alliance, not in the shadow of that Hero.”

Geary heard every capital letter as the commander of the Repulse pronounced the words, and he let his anger show. “That’s not me.”

“No. You were human. I figured that out. But to the rest of the Alliance, you weren’t human. You were the perfect hero, the shining example to the youth of the Alliance.” Commander Michael Geary hunched closer to his screen. “Every day of my life has been measured against the standard of Black Jack Geary. Do you have any idea what that’s been like?”

He could guess, having seen the emotions that had greeted him on so many faces. “Why the hell did you join the Navy?”

“Because I had to! Just like my father. We were Gearys. That’s all there was to it.”

Geary squeezed his eyes shut and pressed his hands against his head. I’ve only lived with this image of myself for a few weeks. To live a lifetime in its shadow… “I’m very sorry.”

“You didn’t do it,” his grandnephew repeated.

“Then why do you so obviously hate me?”

“It’s hard to break the habits of a lifetime.”

I want to hear about my brother, and what happened to his children, and whatever you could tell me about my other friends and relatives, but I can’t do that with someone who’s hated me all his life and isn’t the least bit reticent about showing me that hate. “Damn you.”

“You already did.”

Geary reached to break the connection, then fixed his grandnephew with an icy glare. “Do you feel capable of following my orders to the best of your ability?”

“Oh, yes. I can do that.”

“If I see you balking or in any way hazarding other ships by your actions, I’ll relieve you of your command in a heartbeat. Do you understand? I don’t care if you hate me.” Which was a lie, and he was sure the other man knew it was a lie, but it had to be said. “But I will not tolerate any actions that will imperil the ships and sailors of this fleet.”

The other Geary quirked a half-smile. “I assure you I will carry out my duties as if Black Jack Geary himself were my commander.”

Captain Geary stared again. “Tell me that’s not a common phrase.”

“It’s a common phrase.”

“I don’t know whether to curse you again or shoot myself.”

The smile grew. “You hate it, too, don’t you?”

“Of course I do.”

“Then perhaps, for Grandfather’s sake, I can wish you well. It’s hard, and even harder seeing you younger than me, but you’ll have to live with Black Jack Geary now, too.”

“You’re expecting me to fail, aren’t you?”

“Fail is a relative term. I’ve had to deal with pretty high standards in my life. You’re going to have to deal with much higher ones.”

Geary nodded, as much to himself as in answer to his old and bitter grandnephew. “And you’ll be there to watch me fail to live up to the standards of a demigod. Fair enough. I’ve got a job to do. So do you.”

“Yes, sir. Permission to get back to my work? Repulse was severely damaged in the battle, as I’m sure you know.”

No, I hadn’t been sure of that. Too much to learn too fast. “Very well, Commander.” Geary broke the connection, then sat gazing at the blank screen for a long moment before trying to stand again. His left leg trembled a bit, so Geary balled his hand into a fist and punched his thigh hard enough to possibly raise a bruise. Then he headed for the bridge of the Dauntless, grateful for even the minor distraction caused by the lingering pain in his leg.

The sailors who’d crowded the passageways of the Dauntless in the immediate aftermath of battle were partly gone now, most having reached the places they needed to be and devoted themselves to what needed to be done. The remainder made way for Geary, but something had changed in the way they regarded him. He could see their faces carrying not just the unwelcome awe and hope, but also growing confidence. Confidence in him or because of him, it didn’t matter which. He had to be their commander now, though, so he met those faces and tried to reflect the confidence back at them.

The semicircular bridge wasn’t a very large compartment, either, but then large compartments made no sense in spacecraft, especially warships. The captain’s seat, which normally dominated the space, had been moved to one side and another seat with a fleet commander’s flag embossed upon its back had been fastened to the deck beside the captain’s. Captain Desjani sat strapped into her seat, gazing intently at the virtual display screens floating before her, occasionally directing a command or question to one of the officers and enlisted occupying various watch-stations filling the half-arc of the compartment in front of her. Geary took a moment to absorb the scene, finding a welcome measure of comfort in watching the familiar rituals of ship command.

Then a watch-stander noticed him and gestured to Captain Desjani, who turned far enough to see Geary and offered a brief nod in greeting before she went back to monitoring repairs and preparations for further combat. Geary walked to the admiral’s seat a bit stiffly, pausing to run the fingers of one hand over the embossed flag for a moment. Somehow, it seemed to him, actually sitting in that seat would mark an irreversible step. At that point, he’d be actively commanding a fleet. It was a very bad time to recall that his previous largest command had been of a three-ship escort force.

Geary sat down and looked around, trying to accustom himself to this new role. “Captain Desjani, is Co-President Rione aboard yet?”

Desjani gave him a quick, carefully neutral look as she replied. “So I’ve been informed. Her shuttle docked several minutes ago.”

Geary checked the time. “She must’ve bought us some time. The Syndic deadline expired over ten minutes ago.”

“Perhaps she did.” Desjani leaned closer and lowered her voice. “How much does Rione know? About Dauntless?”

Geary tried not to flinch. “Too much.”

“Admiral Bloch may well’ve told her, you know.”

He hadn’t thought of that, but it seemed reasonable that Rione could have made the same demands on Bloch that she did on Geary, and already knew where the key had been located. So why ask me? Maybe to find out how honest I’d be with her. I guess I managed a passing grade. “At least she didn’t come to join us on the bridge.”

“I’m sure she’s still talking,” Desjani deadpanned.

Geary found himself grinning briefly despite everything, then sobered as he called up his displays. A situation display appeared, floating at his eye level, the Syndic ships holding steady in their formation, while speed and direction vectors showed a good portion of the Alliance ships shifting in various directions, the slower ships tending toward the jump point and others moving on different vectors to conceal the fleet’s intentions. So many ships in this fleet. If I try to focus too much on one area, I’ll lose the big picture. He moved his gaze toward the enemy formation and felt his guts tighten. And so many Syndic ships. What if they’re faster, or we’re slower, or somebody just does the wrong thing?

What if I’m that somebody?

He studied the controls, then tried to pull up data on the Alliance ships. Instead, personnel files for every officer in the fleet appeared. Muttering angrily, Geary tried another command. This time he got a readout of statistics for each class of ships. Not exactly what he’d wanted, but still useful. Now, if he only had a few more minutes to learn more about these ships, how they differed from those he’d known. He gestured to Captain Desjani. “I’m looking at specs for the ships, and I recognize most of the weapons.”

She gave a quick command to one of her subordinates, then nodded to Geary. “Yes. The basic weapon concepts haven’t changed in most cases, even though the weapon capabilities have become a lot better. We still use hell-lances as the primary weapon, but their charged particle ‘spears’ are faster, longer-ranged, carry more energy, and the launchers can recharge much quicker than in your last ship.”

“And you’re still using grapeshot.”

“Of course. It’s a simple and deadly weapon. The railguns can impart higher velocities to the rounds than in your day, and targeting system improvements let us use grapeshot at slightly greater ranges, but it’s still a fairly close-in weapon because once the patterns disperse too widely, the odds of overwhelming or significantly weakening enemy defenses are too small.”

“What’s a specter?”

“Basically a meaner version of the missiles you were used to.”

“Wraiths, you mean?”

“Yes. Specters are autonomous missiles like the old wraiths, but they’re more maneuverable, carry multiple warheads to give them a better chance of punching through shields and into an enemy’s hull, and have better survival chances against enemy active defenses.” She gestured outward. “Defenses have improved, too. Shields are stronger, rebuild and adjust coverage faster, and the ships’ physical hulls have some better survival characteristics.”

There hadn’t been a radical change in weaponry, then. The ships still used missiles at longer ranges, augmented by hell-lances and grapeshot when they got close enough. Heavier weapons but deployed against stronger defenses. “What’s this—”

“Captain?” Both Geary and Desjani jerked their heads around to look at the sailor who’d spoken, Geary taking a moment to realize the call hadn’t been directed at him. The sailor in turn seemed uncertain who to report to. “The Syndic fleet is broadcasting a demand for individual ships to announce their surrender immediately.”

Geary fought down an urge to grimace, all too aware everyone was looking at him for his reaction. Rione’s efforts to stall had obviously hit their limit. He wondered whether simply remaining silent would cause the Syndics to waste time repeating their demands. “Captain Desjani, I’d appreciate your estimate of what will happen if we don’t respond.”

She hesitated, then spoke in a rush. “I can’t be sure what the Syndics will do, but if we don’t reply, there’s a chance some of our ships may respond on their own. And if some begin surrendering—”

“Damn.” As much as he hated to admit it, Geary knew from what he’d seen in the conference room that she was right. He couldn’t stay silent and risk that outcome. “I want to talk to the Syndic commander.”

“Private channel, sir?”

“No. I want everyone to see and hear us.”

“We’ll send a hail to the Syndic flagship. It’s a few light-minutes away.” Desjani pointed toward the communications watch, conveying her order with the motion. That sailor nodded and began working his controls. Several minutes passed, then the sailor gestured forward. Geary followed the gesture with his eyes and saw a new display spring to life. Centered in it was the familiar image of the Syndic CEO who’d announced the murder of Admiral Bloch and his fellow Alliance senior officers. “Dauntless?” the CEO asked. “You were Bloch’s flagship, were you not? Are you capable of surrendering the fleet en masse, then?”

Geary straightened, trying to keep his temper down, but not bothering to hide his own feelings. “You’re not talking to the captain of the Dauntless. You’re talking to the fleet commander.”

The Syndic flagship was slightly behind the lead elements of the enemy fleet, placing it close to three light-minutes away from Dauntless. Geary kept his answer as short as he dared, then waited for his reply to reach the other ship, knowing the built-in time lag would automatically help buy more time for his fleet.

Three minutes from Dauntless to the enemy flagship, then three minutes back. At about six minutes after Geary’s reply, he finally saw the Syndic CEO’s eyes shift in annoyance. “I don’t care what you style yourself. I’ve been very generous out of humanitarian concern for the wellbeing of fellow humans, but your time is up. Broadcast surrender, drop your shields, and deactivate all offensive and defensive weapon systems immediately or you will be destroyed.”

Geary shook his head for emphasis. “No.”

Six minutes later, he saw the Syndic fleet CEO frown in response to the brief reply. “Very well. Dauntless will be destroyed. Now if you don’t mind, I’m sure other ships will be trying to surrender.”

“The ships of this fleet are under my command, not yours, and they will fight under my command,” Geary stated, trying to put all the ice that had once filled him into his tone. He knew his reply would be heard by his own ships far quicker than it would be received by the much farther-away enemy flagship, and would hopefully forestall any individual Alliance commanders still tempted to trust their fate to surrender. “The Alliance fleet is not beaten and will not surrender.” He hoped the words conveyed a confidence he didn’t really feel. But as long as he seemed confident on the outside, his own ships and the Syndics wouldn’t know what was going on inside Geary.

The long-distance conversation had been continuing for almost twenty minutes when Geary saw the Syndic CEO looking off to the side, apparently checking one of his own displays. “It seems I’ll have to have my intelligence staff reeducated. I find no match for you in my database of Alliance officers.”

“You’re not looking in the right place,” Geary advised, letting a small humorless smile show. “Try looking under deceased officers. As far back as your files go.”

Another six minutes. “You’re dead, then?” The CEO shook his head. “A stupid ploy and waste of time. You’re not listed. A search through the entire database, including every Alliance officer known to have served in this war doesn’t produce any matches at—” The Syndic CEO stopped speaking, his eyes still locked on whatever his display was showing.

Geary smiled again, this time baring his teeth. “I assume you found me. About a century ago.”

By the time Syndic CEO’s latest reply came in, his face had reddened with anger. “A simple, foolish trick. If you think I’d be stupid enough to believe that, you are sadly mistaken. You’re simply stalling for time. I will not tolerate further delays.”

“I don’t care what you believe.” Geary let the next words come out slowly, all too aware that the rest of his own fleet was listening in on this conversation. “I am Captain John Geary. I am now in command of the Alliance fleet. You’re dealing with me now. These are my ships. Back off.”

The CEO was glowering when his latest message arrived. “Even if you were that person, there’s nothing you can do. You’re outnumbered, outgunned, and cut off. You have no options but surrender! I repeat, I will tolerate no more delays. My patience is at an end.”

Geary tried his best to look unimpressed. “I beat the Syndics once, and I can beat them again.” He knew what he had to say. He was still speaking as much to his own ships as to the Syndic CEO. Maybe he’d give the Syndic pause, and hopefully he’d give his fleet some more confidence. Geary actually found himself enjoying this a little. Being Black Jack Geary to Alliance sailors had been a constant trial, but using his legend to rattle the Syndics was actually a bit of fun. “There’s always something a good commander can do. I repeat, this fleet isn’t beaten. If you’re foolish enough to try attacking, you’ll find we’re ready to kick you halfway to the next star system.” He knew that wasn’t true, but halfhearted bluffs weren’t going to gain him anything at this point.

Another six minutes. The Syndic CEO eyed Geary, wariness apparent now even though the CEO was still trying to project arrogant assurance. “That’s nonsense, as you’re well aware. Your situation is hopeless. Unless you surrender now, you will die. This conversation is at an end. I expect your next response to contain your surrender.”

Geary ignored the latest ultimatum. “Sorry to disappoint you. The Syndic fleet thought it’d already killed me once. What makes you think you’ll have more luck this time? You, on the other hand, haven’t died even once yet. And after watching what you did to Admiral Bloch, I’d be more than happy to send you to your ancestors.”

The Syndic CEO had been keeping his expression carefully controlled, but Geary thought he could read uncertainty there. Which was very good if true. Rattling an enemy commander’s confidence could go a long way to ensuring their defeat.

On the other hand, Captain Desjani and the other Dauntless crew members who Geary could see seemed to be torn between happiness at Geary’s taunting of the Syndic commander and concern that the taunting would provoke an immediate Syndic attack.

Geary waited, watching out of the corner of his eye as the ships of the Alliance fleet continued slowly repositioning. How much longer would he be able to stall before all of his ships would be ready to bolt for the jump point?

“I have neither time nor patience to deal with a fool,” the Syndic CEO finally spat out six more minutes later, then broke the connection.

Geary sighed and relaxed his stiff posture. “Captain Desjani, how much longer until all of our ships are in position?”

She checked her own displays. “Your, um, negotiations with the Syndic commander bought us about a half hour, but I estimate another half hour is still needed, sir. Titan is lagging, though. She took a lot of damage,” Desjani added quickly.

“Yeah.” Geary checked Titan’s status. Perhaps he should order the crew to evacuate … No. Titan was an auxiliary, a mobile fleet-repair-and-rebuild ship. Essentially a small shipyard accompanying the fleet to repair damage too serious for ships to fix on their own, and to manufacture replacement items from raw materials. There’d been two Titan class ships with the fleet, Geary saw. The other had been blown to fragments during the recent battle. There were other repair-and-rebuild ships still surviving, but none of them had Titan’s range of capabilities. I need Titan if I’m going to get this fleet home. But she was slow to start with, and now she’s got battle damage to her engines slowing her more. All I can do is pray I rattled that Syndic goon enough to keep his fleet passive for another half hour.

As far as Geary could tell, the Syndic fleet hadn’t yet moved, maintaining the same position relative to the Alliance fleet. As a result of the redeployment, Geary’s own ships had shifted out of their crescent into a rough oval, which on the displays looked like a shield protecting the most heavily damaged and slowest Alliance ships that had fallen back in a hopefully inconspicuous way toward the jump point. Geary watched the symbols representing his ships crawling across space, praying for a little more time.

“We’re picking up movement by the Syndic ships. Blue shift.”

That meant the Syndics had increased their speed toward the Alliance fleet. Geary cursed under his breath and stared at the display showing the enemy forces. The Syndic fleet hadn’t changed formation at all, maintaining that wall of firepower, but as he watched, Dauntless’s long-range optical sensors tagged ship after ship with movement vectors indicating they were accelerating toward the Alliance fleet. Like every other ship commander Geary had ever known, he wished for a magic detection system that could’ve provided information at faster-than-light speed. But like communications, sensors in normal space were still limited to light-speed. Which means they started moving less than three minutes ago, so they’ve already got the jump on us. “They’re holding formation. The slowest ships are setting the pace.”

Desjani nodded, her face tense. “That must mean they don’t suspect your plan.”

My plan. Yeah. I hope it works. “How do I call the fleet?” he asked Desjani.

She tapped some buttons. “You’re on.”

Geary took a deep breath. “All ships, this is the fleet commander, Captain John Geary. Execute Overture immediately upon receipt. I say again, execute Overture immediately upon receipt.” There wasn’t time for a neatly executed maneuver, coordinated in advance so that every ship would have time to receive the signal before the fleet moved in unison. But the fleet wasn’t dispersed too widely. Every ship should receive the message within a minute and begin moving as soon as they heard the order.

On his display, ships flared with green dots as they acknowledged the order, the wave of green spreading out from Dauntless’s position on all sides as ships received the order and replied. In the same way, beginning with the ships closest to Dauntless, the Alliance fleet raggedly surged into motion toward the jump point. Dauntless’s own engines kicked in, steering the flagship toward the center of the force. Geary watched his ships accelerating, seeing some of the faster ships falling in around the slower ones to act as escorts, eyeing the Syndic advance for the first signs they’d realized what he was doing, that the Alliance fleet wasn’t simply falling back in a bid to delay an inevitable battle within this system but was planning to jump out of immediate danger.

“Titan’s still lagging.”

Geary nodded in response to Desjani’s words, feeling a tightness in his guts as he watched the big, slow ship’s movement. “I wish she could’ve gotten closer to the jump point.”

“Given the amount of damage she’s sustained, Titan got as close as she could in the time available and given the plan’s constraints.”

Geary gritted his teeth, though not in anger at Desjani. She was doing exactly what she should do—tell him the truth as she saw it. But he’d approved the plan. He’d seen Titan in it, in the short time he had to look at that plan, and hadn’t known the huge repair ship would be a concern. Hadn’t known that she’d move so slow. It wasn’t like they’d had a lot of time to move her or that they could be too obvious about it, but he’d approved the plan, they hadn’t been able to stall the Syndics long enough, and now Titan was in real trouble.

Because now he could see signs that the enemy was reacting, finally realizing that the Alliance fleet was fleeing toward the jump point. The time-late images of the wall of Syndic warships showed it stretching out of shape toward them as the faster ships began to pull away from their slower counterparts. Three minutes for them to see what we were doing, some time more for them to figure out what it meant, and then three more minutes for us to see them act on that information. They’ll be closing on us now, and the information will get more and more timely, but that’s not a good thing since it means the enemy will be getting closer to being able to engage our rearmost ships. He couldn’t call it a rear guard, because the ships farthest back were there from necessity, not design.

Geary found himself wishing for hidden squadrons of ships, waiting to leap out from some impossible concealment to lop the head off of the Syndic formation. But he had no such squadrons, no such means of hiding them, and any ship he sent to hit those exposed ships at the head of the Syndic advance would be unable to retreat to safety before the Syndic main body closed in.

Geary kept watching the ships and their movement vectors slide across the display and didn’t need to calculate the result. His own experience with understanding relative motion provided the answer as the minutes crawled by. “The Syndic interceptors are coming on too fast. Titan won’t make the jump point before some of them get within engagement range of her.”

Desjani nodded. “Concur.”

“Can Titan’s escorts stop them?”

She pondered the question for a moment, then shook her head. “Not just with their stern weaponry. They’d have to turn.”

“And then they’d be doomed.” I might have to do that. Might have to order that. I don’t want to lose those ships, those crews, but if it’s them or Titan, and Titan’s necessary for everyone else to get home…

Another nod from Captain Desjani. “We can abandon Titan. Try to pick up some of her crew.”

“We need that ship.”

Desjani hesitated, then she nodded a third time. “Yes.”

“Then we can’t abandon her.” Desjani gave him a worried look. Trying to figure out how the legendary Black Jack Geary can get out of this mess? If you do figure out how, let me know. How to buy time for Titan? Geary scowled at the displays, trying to find some way to change the physics and coming up with only one answer no matter how he tried.

Trade at least a ship for a ship. Either a squadron of lighter ships, or some ship powerful enough to single-handedly stave off the onrushing Syndic lead elements but less “important” than Titan. I can’t use Dauntless. Wouldn’t it be a relief if I did? Another last stand, and this time end it all for sure. No more burden of command, no more legions of desperate people looking to me as their only hope. No more fate of the Alliance, perhaps, hanging on my head, and no more hearing about Black Jack Geary, the Hero of the Alliance. But I can’t. The key’s onboard. I made a promise. Even if I hadn’t, I can’t abandon my duty to all of these people. But then which ship do I choose instead? Who do I send to their deaths? His eyes searched among the ships, trying to make a choice he hated.

And then he saw something else. “What’s Repulse doing? She’s falling back.”

Desjani gestured to her crew, then waited for a reply. “I’m informed Repulse has notified the fleet that she’ll be maneuvering independently.”

“What? Get me their commanding officer.” Repulse was still only thirty light-seconds away, so it took only a minute for Dauntless to send its request and Repulse to reply. The newly familiar face of Repulse’s commanding officer appeared before Geary. “What are you doing?” Geary demanded without preamble. “You’re going to be overtaken by Syndic ships soon unless you get your speed back up. Return to your place in formation.”

A minute later, instead of answering directly, Commander Michael Geary just grinned triumphantly. “You screwed up, Great-Uncle Black Jack. You know that, don’t you? Titan’s in trouble. Cresida’s not a bad officer, but she’s not as experienced as she’d like to think. And she can be a hothead, jumping without thinking first. You should’ve checked her plan better. It takes a lot of time sailing around Titan to realize what a slow tub she is under the best of conditions. That means there’s only one option if Titan’s going to saved.”

Geary tried to use his fingertips to push back a growing pain in his temples. “I understand Titan’s in trouble. I know we need to do something. But there’s different ways of executing that option.”

Another minute, while the Syndic pursuers grew closer. Geary watched them, impressed despite himself by the acceleration of which these modern warships were capable.

Repulse’s commander officer shook his head. “All of the options come down to the same thing. And you know it. Well, I’m going to do you a big favor, Great-Uncle Black Jack. I’m going to save you the trouble of choosing who dies. Repulse is close to the line between the closest Syndic ships and Titan. My ship’s well positioned for this action, and she’s got the necessary firepower. She’s also got damaged main drives that I’ve been pushing too hard and are threatening to fail, so she may not be able to keep up with the fleet regardless. Feel better?”

Geary felt the coldness inside again, but he could only find one word in answer. “No.”

The Repulse’s commander’s grin stretched wider at Geary’s response, becoming a bit grotesque. “Because of your mistake, I’ll finally get to live up to the legacy of Black Jack Geary! My ship holding off the entire Syndic fleet! My ancestors, our ancestors, will be proud. How long do you think my ship’ll survive, Great-Uncle Black Jack?”

Geary barely kept from snarling in frustration. A ship would die because of him. At least one, because if Repulse didn’t hold the enemy off long enough, then Titan still wouldn’t make it to the jump point in time unless Geary sent more ships back to screen her. And this man he wanted to embrace as a link to his dead brother couldn’t let go of his anger even now. “Hold them off as long as you can. They’ll try to slip some ships past you.”

A minute later, Michael Geary shook his head again. “They won’t make it. I’ll have clean shots at their flanks when they try.” The grin finally wavered and went away. “This isn’t easy, is it? I understand a bit now. I truly didn’t want this. You do what you have to do, though, and it’s up to your ancestors how it all turns out. You just have to … the Syndics will capture any of my crew who get off before Repulse dies. I know you can’t wait around to pick them up now. Promise me that some day you’ll try to get them out of the Syndic labor camps. Don’t forget them.”

Another promise, another demand on him, from someone who knew damned well that he wasn’t a demigod but still needed to believe in him. “I swear to you I won’t forget them, and I’ll do everything I can to someday get them home.”

“I’ll remember that! And our ancestors heard you as well!” Michael Geary laughed sharply, his gaze shifting rapidly as he looked off-screen at his own ship’s bridge.

“It’s going to get very hot any moment now. I need to go. Get the fleet out of here, damn you.” He hesitated. “I’ve got a sister. She’s on the Dreadnought, back in Alliance space. Tell her I didn’t hate you anymore.” The connection broke leaving Geary staring at the ghost memory of his grandnephew’s face.

He became aware that Captain Desjani was looking at him, wondering what his private conservation with the Repulse had involved. Geary spoke to her, trying to keep his voice flat and controlled. “Repulse is going to attempt to hold off the Syndic ships long enough for Titan to get to the jump point.”

Desjani hesitated, her eyes widening. “Sir, you should know, the commanding officer of Repulse is—”

“I know who he is.” Geary guessed his voice sounded rough, harsh, and had no idea how that would seem to the bridge crew of the Dauntless, and he didn’t really care at the moment.

Desjani stared at him for several seconds, then looked away.

Every minute after that seemed impossibly long, Geary watching Titan’s achingly slow progress and the vectors of the Syndic warships piling on speed as they closed the distance. The fastest Syndic ships had pushed their velocity up past .1 light and were still accelerating. “Isn’t there any way to make Titan go faster?” he finally snapped.

The others on the bridge exchanged glances, but no one answered. Despite his earlier determination to keep an eye on the big picture, Geary focused on the Repulse, knowing that what happened around her would determine the fate of other ships. The rest of the Alliance fleet was accelerating toward the jump point, limiting its speed to keep from leaving slower ships behind, but drawing steadily away from Repulse. The damaged battle cruiser had ceased accelerating, coasting along behind the rest of the fleet as if her propulsion systems were totally blown. She was almost forty-five light-seconds away from Dauntless now, and losing ground by the moment. Geary did a quick estimate in his head, figuring that by the time the Syndic pursuers reached Repulse, the badly damaged ship would be over a light-minute behind the rest of the fleet.

The wall once formed by the Syndic fleet had stretched into a sort of ragged cone, with the bulk of the Syndic ships back in the base, while the fastest ships had charged forward as quickly as they individually could, their tracks converging on an intercept with Titan. Geary saw the great opportunity the extended Syndic formation offered for a vicious counterblow, just the sort of opportunity a mythic commander like Black Jack Geary would surely take. But I know what would happen to my fleet after I blew away those leading Syndic ships and the rest of the Syndic fleet caught up to us, and I’m not the Black Jack Geary these people think I am.

Like members of a grand ballet corps sweeping together for a finale, the Syndic ships gracefully arced down toward Titan and the lone Alliance warship, Repulse, barring their path. Three Syndic Hunter-Killer ships that must have strained their drives to the utmost were in the lead as they tried to race past Repulse at better than .1 light speed, aiming directly for Titan and her escorts. Geary watched the battle on the display floating before him, knowing the events he was watching had already played out a minute earlier, seeing the shape of the Repulse slowly turning to face the pursuers. Too slowly. Her damaged main drives had apparently lost much of their maneuvering and acceleration capability, leaving Repulse unable to move with any speed.

According to Repulse’s last update, her propulsion system wasn’t that badly damaged. Why is she wallowing like that? Then Geary noticed the Syndic HuKs not altering course to further avoid Repulse and realized what his grandnephew was doing. He’s pretending to be in worse shape than he is. It’s his only ace, and he’s playing it very well. If only I’d had some time to get to know that man.

Repulse, swinging slowly and majestically up and around, barely managed to bring her main weapons to bear and fired her kinetic grapeshot, patterns of large metal ball bearings aimed to intercept the path of the oncoming HuKs. At the speed the HuKs were moving, relativistic effects would mean they’d have a distorted image of the outside universe, which together with the time-late lags caused by the distances involved meant the Syndic ships would lose vital time in seeing and responding to any threats.

whether because they had too little warning time to react or simply chose to ignore the barrage, the HuKs swept directly into the grapeshot kill patterns, their leading shields sparkling with impacts as they absorbed the barrage. The Syndic warships surged onward, still fixated on the Titan. “No hits,” Geary commented tonelessly.

Captain Desjani shook her head. “There wasn’t much chance of one, but all those head-on strikes against the HuK shields by the kinetic rounds must’ve depleted the shields a great deal. The relative speed of the impacts was huge. They’ll have to shift a lot of power from the sides and rear to try to rebuild their front shields.”

“I see.” And now he did. Or rather, he was seeing what had happened over a minute ago. The HuKs sprinting past Repulse obviously weren’t worried about taking any more shots from the Alliance ship. But before the projected paths of the Syndic ships began to pass Repulse’s position, the battle cruiser had rolled with sudden speed and agility, changing aspect to bring her main batteries to bear on points the HuKs would pass through. The Syndics probably didn’t see the maneuver in time to react, maintaining their courses and allowing Repulse to target the spots they’d occupy as the enemy tried to race past.

A barrage of hell-lances erupted from the Alliance ship, racing outward to reach a point in space just as one of the Syndic warships passed through the same spot. The charged particle spears slashed into the HuK, then as Repulse kept rolling to bring her weapons to bear on another intercept point, another barrage fired and slammed into a second HuK. At fairly close range, the bolts of energy tore through the weakened side shields and the thin underlying armor, then ripped apart the guts of the Syndic ships.

Still moving at better than .1 light, the wrecks of the two HuKs raced onward, no longer accelerating, no longer living warships, no longer threats to Titan or any other Alliance ship.

But Geary’s eyes were locked on the third HuK, as Repulse brought her bow up and around in a wrenching maneuver to face it. He felt a familiar tension inside as if the display were showing events in real time, rather than revealing the light of actions already over a minute old now. The display showed what looked like a massive glowing ball leaping from the Repulse on a course that carried it straight into the HuK’s path. The ball seemed to hesitate a moment as it flared against the HuK’s shields, then it plowed through the weakened barrier and into the ship. Where the ball hit, the HuK simply vanished, a third of the ship gone in an instant, and the remaining pieces tumbling away as they were wracked by secondary explosions.

“What the hell was that?” Geary whispered.

Captain Desjani bared her teeth. “A null-field. It does exactly what the name says, temporarily nullifying the strong force that holds atoms together.”

“You’re joking.”

“No.” She pointed at the remains of the HuK. “Inside the null-field, atomic bonds fail. Matter simply falls apart.”

Geary stared at her, then at the display. Matter. Matter making up a ship, and matter making up its crew. Falling apart and gone. Not just dead, but vanished into nothing. “Does every ship have one of those null-fields?”

“No. Just the capital ships, and not all of them.” Desjani’s fierce grin faded. “They’re fairly new, short range, and they take a long time to recharge. I know why he fired it when he did. It was the only way to stop that HuK. But he may not get off another shot from it, and I doubt any Syndic capital ships will let him get close enough to nail them.”

“Can a shield stop those things?”

“A powerful enough one, yes.” She looked frustrated now. “Null-fields can’t be charged if you’re too deep in a significant gravity well, and the charge can only be held for a very brief time before you have to fire. As a result we haven’t been able to employ them against Syndic planetary targets, yet.”

“Planetary targets? You mean planets, don’t you?”

Frustration shifted to annoyance before Desjani cleared her expression. “Of course.”

Of course. Hitting an inhabited planet with something which would make pieces of it fall apart into component particles was just a matter of “of course.” What’s happened to these people? How can they talk regretfully about not being able to destroy worlds that way?

His attention was jerked back to Repulse. Another brace of HuKs had tried to get past her, but the Alliance ship pivoted again, with an agility at odds with her tonnage, so most of her hell-lance batteries could bear on the path of one of the HuKs. Running head-on into that concentrated barrage, the HuK’s forward shields flared and failed, letting the hell-lances ravage the length of the ship and turn it into high-velocity junk.

Captain Desjani pointed, drawing Geary’s attention to the fact that Repulse was volleying specter missiles as fast as the ship’s launchers could pump them out. The remaining HuK took out the leading specters with its defenses, but then the torpedoes began getting through, hitting the shields and then punching holes through the ship. Within moments, that ship, too, was out of the fight.

“That was most of her remaining specters, Captain Geary,” Desjani advised. “Repulse’s captain is using everything he’s got to stop the leading Syndic ships.”

Geary nodded slowly, trying not to reveal his emotions. He’s leaving precious little for dealing with the following Syndic ships. But, then, that won’t matter, will it? Not in the big scheme of things, where getting Titan out of here intact is critically important. Damn the big scheme of things and damn the Syndics.

He studied the movement vectors, getting the feel of them with those first five HuKs gone, and could see the answer. “He might’ve done it.”

“But not yet,” Desjani advised.

The next wave of HuKs met another barrage of grapeshot and hell-lances. Here and there, a specter crept through the confusion to hammer Syndic shields, but four of the five HuKs made it past. Three had been slowed appreciably, though, losing velocity to the impacts of the grapeshot and acceleration capability to damage. The fourth had clearly expended a lot of weaponry just getting safely past Repulse.

“He’s done it,” Desjani stated, her voice rising with elation. “I recommend that you tell the Titan’s escorts to hit that leading HuK with a half-dozen specters fired out of their stern launchers. The HuK won’t be able to survive that after everything it tossed out to get past Repulse, not unless it deviates from its course, and if it does that, it won’t be able to get to Titan before Titan jumps.”

“Very well. Order them to do that, if you please.” He didn’t listen as Desjani passed on the order, watching instead as more HuKs, this time with light cruisers in support, came up on Repulse and lashed the Alliance ship with fire as they dashed past. Even though the Syndic ships were moving too fast to have undistorted views of the outside universe, Repulse had taken more damage and was too badly hurt to maneuver quickly enough to avoid shots aimed at her estimated position. Repulse got off another shot from its null-field, but the light cruiser it’d been aimed at danced aside, taking only a glancing blow to its shields.

The battle was now seventy light-seconds away from Dauntless. The displays could only tell Geary what had been happening one minute and ten seconds ago, but Geary still knew exactly what it was like on the Repulse at this moment. He’d been in the same situation, though facing better odds. The expendable weaponry, the grapeshot and the specters, would be used up. The ship’s shields would be flaring almost constantly on all sides, as incoming fire drained and shredded the outer defensive layers. Then would come the occasional impact of hits on the hull as the shields suffered spot failures, like random blows from the hammer of a blind giant, before the shields failed completely. The hell-lance batteries would keep firing, falling silent individually or in clusters as they or their power supplies were shattered. And, coming faster and faster, balls of metal and spears of superheated gases would race through the hull from side to side and end to end, smashing anything and anyone in their paths.

“Repulse is launching survival pods.”

It was getting hard to tell exactly what was happening. The battle had thrown out so much junk that some of it was obscuring the view of the action. But Dauntless’s systems could still spot the beacons as survival pods were ejected from the Repulse. Dauntless’s systems automatically calculated intercept options to the survival pods, telling Geary what he’d need to do to try to pick up survivors from Repulse. He stared at the courses, seeing how they crossed through the thick of the oncoming Syndic fleet, knowing he couldn’t help the sailors in those pods now. They’d be picked up by the Syndics once the main battle was over, doomed to life in the Syndic labor camps. But I won’t forget my promise to you, Michael Geary. If it’s humanly possible, I’ll get them out of there someday.

Syndic ships were passing Repulse almost continuously now, none of them stopping to engage, but simply firing as they passed and letting their numbers overwhelm the lone Alliance ship. Heavy cruisers began sweeping by, adding their weight to the weapons pounding Repulse.

“As of seventy-five light-seconds ago, Repulse was no longer firing. All weapons appear to be disabled or destroyed.”

Geary simply nodded, not trusting himself to speak. The survival pods were still coming out occasionally, but too few of them.

“We’ve received a core-destruct initiation signal from Repulse.”

“How long until the core blows?” Geary didn’t recognize the voice at first, then realized it was his own.

“Uncertain. The same for the intensity of the overload. We don’t know how much damage the core has already taken.”

“Understood.” Repulse might already be gone, the light from the event not yet having reached Dauntless. He’d know for certain soon. Geary pulled his attention away from the battle for a moment, seeing the ships of the Alliance fleet plunging into the special area of the gravity well around this star where conditions were right to enable the transition into the jump space where other stars were only weeks or months of travel away. “Commander Cresida’s plan said ships today can make jumps at up to point one light speed.”

“That’s correct,” Desjani advised. “The jump drive systems reached that capability before the hypernet stopped further research and development.”

“Good,” Geary commented tonelessly. “None of our ships will have to slow down to make the jump.”

Titan was almost there, the movement vectors of the leading Syndic ships closing frantically. The closest Syndic HuK, the one that had barely made it past Repulse, shattered into huge fragments as specters from Titan’s escort slammed into it. Other Syndic ships were vainly reaching toward the big Alliance ship and just falling short of intercepts in time to stop her and her escorts as they vanished into jump. More of the leading Syndic ships, all light units, started coming apart as those heavy Alliance ships that hadn’t yet jumped threw barrages at them. The surviving Syndic HuKs braked and frantically changed vectors, trying to cripple some other Alliance ship before it could jump, without getting annihilated themselves.

Geary looked back, and Repulse was gone. A spreading zone of wreckage and gases in the midst of the oncoming Syndic fleet marked the site of her death. May the living stars guide you, and our ancestors welcome you, Michael Geary. Farewell until we meet again in that place. “All remaining ships. Jump as soon as possible. I say again. Jump as soon as possible. Now, now, now.”