Dauntless

THREE

Jump space hadn’t changed in the slightest. Geary knew he shouldn’t have expected it to have changed (what was a human standard century to the life of the universe?), but he’d been haunted by the thought that the new hypernet systems would somehow be visible threading through the emptiness. Instead, jump space presented only the same vista of an endless drab black that always seemed just on the verge of turning into darkest gray. Splayed across that vastness were rare splashes of light, following no understood pattern and representing something that remained unknown even now.

“The sailors say the lights are the homes of our ancestors.”

Geary looked toward Captain Desjani. “They said that in my time as well.” He didn’t feel like talking but felt he should. She’d taken the time to come see him, in this large stateroom that’d once belonged to Admiral Bloch and was now his home. Geary didn’t add that since being rescued he couldn’t look at the gray infinity of jump space without having his bones start to ache as if the cold they’d experienced in hibernation would never leave them.

Desjani stared at the display for a moment before speaking. “Some of the sailors are saying you’ve been there. In the lights. That you were waiting there until now, when the Alliance needed you.”

He started laughing, unable to resist even though he could hear the strain showing through the sound. “I think if I’d had any choice in the matter, I wouldn’t have come back now.”

“Well, they’re not saying it was a time you chose. They’re saying you were needed.”

“I see.” Geary stopped laughing and gazed at her. “What do you think?”

“The truth?”

“That’s all I ever want from you.”

Desjani smiled. “Fair enough. I think that if our ancestors were to intervene directly in events, and if they had chosen to bring you to this fleet when they did, then it was a very good thing.”

“Captain, in case it hasn’t become clear to you yet, I’m not that Black Jack Geary you heard about in school.”

“No,” she agreed. “You’re better than that.”

“What?”

“I’m serious.” Captain Desjani leaned forward, gesturing with one hand for emphasis. “A legendary hero can inspire, but they’re not much help when it comes to concrete actions. I’m not sure the Black Jack Geary I always heard about would’ve led this fleet out of the Syndic home system. You did.”

“Because you all think I am Black Jack Geary!”

“But you are that man! If you weren’t, then any of us who’d survived would currently be on our way to Syndic labor camps. You know that’s true. If you hadn’t been there, the fleet would’ve been destroyed.”

Geary made a face. “You’re assuming no one else would’ve risen to the occasion. You, or Captain Duellos, for example.”

“Captains Faresa and Numos are both senior to me in length of service, and to Captain Duellos as well. They wouldn’t have followed us. Maybe a few of us would’ve thought to try fleeing through the jump point, but not enough to have a chance of surviving the long trip home. No, the fleet would’ve fallen apart and died ship by ship.” Desjani grimaced, then smiled again. “You prevented that.”

Geary shrugged, avoiding directly responding to what she’d said. “You told me you had something for me?”

“Yes. You’ve received a message from Commander Cresida on the Furious.”

He gave her a confused look. “Transmitted just before we jumped?”

“No. A means to transmit messages in jump space was developed quite a while ago. We can’t run high-rate data streams, but we can send simple messages.”

“Oh.” He pondered “quite a while ago” for just a moment before recalling what had prompted the question. “What does Commander Cresida want?” Desjani passed Geary a notepad. He looked down at it, reading the short message. “She’s offering her resignation?”

Desjani shook her head as Geary looked at her. “I didn’t read the message, Captain Geary. It was ‘personal for’ you.”

“Oh.” I’ve got to stop saying that. “Well, she is. She’s offering to resign because of Repulse.” Saying the name made the very recent memory hit him like a blow in the gut.

“But you ordered—”

“The Captain of the Repulse volunteered,” Geary stated, his voice sounding bleak even to him. “No. Because the plan she developed required the sacrifice of another ship to ensure Titan made the jump.” Geary slumped, staring at the notepad and wondering if he needed another boost of meds or if he was just reacting to the stress of thinking about what had gone wrong and what that had cost. She tried. When just about everyone else was sitting around planning their funerals, Cresida offered to work that plan. Michael Geary liked her, I think. And I approved that plan. Me. “I don’t think there was any other way to get Titan out of there. Not with what she had to work with.” Desjani watched him, saying nothing. “Can I write my response on here?”

“Yes,” she replied. “The shorter the better, of course.”

Geary took the stylus and wrote. To Commander Cresida, ASN Furious. Request denied. You retain my full confidence. Respectfully, John Geary, Captain, ASN.

He handed it back to Desjani, who looked a question at him. Geary indicated she should read. She did so, nodded, then smiled slightly. “Just what I’d have expected of you, sir.”

Geary watched her, feeling an emptiness inside. Everything I do, they interpret as being what they’d expect of Black Jack Geary. Or someone even better than the legendary Black Jack Geary! Ancestors help us all. Why can’t they just know me, as I really am?

But, then, how much do I know them?

He took another look at Captain Desjani, trying to see her as if for the first time. “What’s your first name, anyway?”

She smiled briefly. “Tanya.”

“I don’t think I’ve known anyone named Tanya before.”

“The name became fairly popular at one time. You know how that goes. There’s a lot of women in my generation named Tanya.”

“Yeah. Names do come and go, don’t they? Where’re you from?”

“Kosatka.”

“Really? I’ve been to Kosatka.”

Desjani looked disbelieving. “In-system or landfall?”

“Landfall.” The memories tumbled out and left a pleasant glow in their wake. “I was just a junior officer, then. My ship got sent to Kosatka as part of an official Alliance representation for a royal wedding. Some really big deal. The whole planet went sort of manic over it, and they fell over themselves being nice to us. I’ve never gotten so many free drinks and meals.” Geary smiled at her, then saw the lack of recognition on her face. “I guess it didn’t make history.”

“Uh, no. I suppose not.” Desjani smiled politely.

“Kosatka doesn’t pay nearly as much attention to the royal family as it used to.”

Geary nodded, trying to keep his own smile in place. “Yesterday’s unforgettable pomp and circumstance got forgotten pretty quickly, I guess.”

“But, still, I’m not sure anyone remembers you were on Kosatka. That’s something special. Did you like it?”

His smile turned genuine again. “Yeah. I don’t remember any spectacular scenery or anything like that, but it seemed like a real welcoming, comfortable place. Some of the crew talked about going back there to live once they’d retired.” He forced a laugh. “I bet it’s changed, though.”

“Not that much. I haven’t been home in a long time, but that’s how I remember it.”

“Sure you do. It’s home.” They sat silent for a moment, then Geary exhaled heavily. “So, how is home?”

“Sir?”

“Home. The Alliance. What’s it like?”

“It’s … still the Alliance.” She shook her head, looking older and more tired than just a moment ago. “It’s been a very long war. So much has to go into the military, to build new ships, new defenses, new ground forces. And so many of the young have to go into those same things. All of our worlds have such wealth when combined, but it’s being worn away.”

Geary frowned down at his hands, not wanting to see her face just then. “Tell me the truth. Are the Syndics winning?”

“No!” The answer came so quickly that Geary thought it must reflect some sort of faith rather than professional analysis. “But neither are we,” Desjani conceded. “It’s too hard. The distances involved, the ability of each side to recover from losses and field new forces, the balance in weaponry.” Desjani sighed. “It’s been a stalemate for a long time.”

Stalemate. It made sense, for exactly the reasons Desjani gave. Both the Alliance and the Syndicate Worlds were too big to be defeated in less than centuries of war. “Why the hell did the Syndicate Worlds start an unwinnable war anyway?”

Desjani shrugged. “You know what they’re like. A corporate state run by dictators who call themselves servants of the people they enslave. The free worlds of the Alliance were a constant threat to the dictators of the Syndicate Worlds, living examples that representative government and civil liberties could coexist with greater security and prosperity than the Syndics could ever dream of. That’s why the Rift Federation and the Callas Republic ended up joining with the Alliance in the war. If the Syndics succeeded in crushing the Alliance, they’d go after any remaining free worlds next.”

Geary nodded. “The Syndic leadership was always worried about revolt by some of its worlds. That’s why they attacked us when they did? Because turning the Alliance from an attractive alternative to a wartime threat was the only way to keep control of their own populace?”

This time Desjani frowned slightly, then shrugged again. “I suppose, sir. To be honest, the war started a very long time ago. I never really studied the exact circumstances. All that matters to me, and to everyone else in the Alliance today of course, is that the Syndics launched an unprovoked attack on us. Or rather, on our ancestors. We can’t allow them to benefit from that.”

“Have they?” Geary asked.

“Not that I know of,” Desjani replied with a fierce grin. Then her smile faded. “Nor have we, needless to say.”

“Nobody’s benefiting, and no one can win. Why not end the thing, then? Negotiate.”

Her head whipped up, and she stared at him. “We can’t!”

“But if neither the Alliance nor the Syndics can win—”

“We couldn’t trust them! They won’t honor any agreement. You know that. The attack you held off so long ago was a surprise blow, an unprovoked stab in the back! No.” She shook her head, with anger this time. “Negotiations are impossible with creatures like the Syndicate Worlds. They need to be crushed so that their evil won’t spread further, won’t result in the murder of more innocents. No matter what it costs.”

He looked away again, thinking about what a century of warfare can do not just to economies but also to minds. I guess Desjani’s right that the exact reasons the Syndics attacked a century ago aren’t that important anymore. But I’ll have to try to remember to look it up sometime, try to find out what exact reasons caused this war instead of just laying it at the feet of the immoral nature of the Syndic leaders. Not that the Syndics haven’t already shown themselves to be capable of horrible acts. Admiral Bloch could certainly testify to the futility of negotiations with them. But if neither side can win and neither side will negotiate, that dooms everyone, good or bad, to endless war. Geary glanced back at Desjani and saw she was watching him now with calm certainty. Certain I’ll agree with her, because aren’t I the legendary Black Jack Geary?

As if reading his mind, Captain Desjani nodded at that moment. “You see how important it is that we get home. The strike at the Syndic home system might’ve been the means for us to finally tip the balance. It failed, but if we can get the Syndic hypernet key home and get it duplicated, the Syndics will face an impossible situation. They’ll have to either take down their own hypernet or know we can use it against them at any time and any place on the net.”

Geary nodded back. “And if they took down their hypernet, the Alliance could shift forces so much faster than the Syndics that we’d be able to concentrate forces again and again, crushing the Syndics piecemeal while they scramble to try to catch us. It’d be a huge advantage on those grounds alone. I can only imagine the economic advantage the Alliance would gain. Why’d they risk giving us one of their keys?”

Desjani made a face. “From their perspective, the plan probably looked foolproof. Dangle the bait of the Syndic home system, offer us a key there through a supposed traitor, and then trap us so far from home we couldn’t possibly escape.” She grinned. “But they didn’t know we’d have you.”

Oh, for the living stars’ sake. But as long as she brought it up… “How’d you find me? After all that time? Why didn’t someone find me earlier?” The questions had occurred to him before, of course, but he’d never pursued the answers, not wanting to delve into the events that had separated him from his own time and left him here among these familiar strangers.

Desjani tapped on the small table between them, bringing up a display of star systems. “Did you know you could do this? Your last battle—Excuse me, what we thought was your last battle, took place here.” She pointed to an unremarkable star. “Grendel.”

Geary nodded and swung his own finger along a line of stars. “It was part of a standard transit route. That’s why my convoy was heading through the area.”

“Yes. But it was also close to Syndic space, which is why the convoy had a routine escort. Right?” Geary nodded as Desjani’s hand waved to indicate the stars beyond. “They could jump straight into Grendel’s system. Which they did when they attacked you.” She sat silent for a moment. “Afterward, well, my understanding is the system was swept, but there were Syndic forces jumping in and out constantly, hoping to catch more shipping. Everything had to be done under combat conditions, the accumulated battles left more and more wreckage and flotsam drifting through the system, and eventually Grendel was effectively abandoned except for some automated early-warning systems to let us know if the Syndics were coming through. It just made more sense to jump safely through Beowulf, Caderock, and Rescat than run the gauntlet through Grendel.” Another shrug. “And once the hypernet was set up, nobody even needed to do that.”

Geary gazed at the display, cold seeming to seep in through the walls around him as he thought of the decades his survival pod had spent tumbling through space in a system empty of everything except the wreckage of war. “But you went through there.”

“Yes. We needed to jump into a Syndic system where one of their hypernet gates existed, and Grendel offered a perfect jumping off point. Isolated, quiet, empty.” She swung one finger slowly through the representation of the lonely star. “Our sensors are better, more sensitive, than they used to be. They picked up the power being used in your survival pod and the tiny amount of heat that it was generating. It might’ve been power leakage from a Syndic spy drone, so we investigated.” Desjani pursed her lips. “The fleet physicians estimated you had only a few more years of survival time left, at best, before power in the pod was exhausted.”

The cold bored into him, threatening to freeze his breath in his throat. “I hadn’t heard that.”

“They’re not supposed to keep anyone alive that long, you know. The only reason it kept going all that time is because you were the only one aboard. If there’d been even just two survivors drawing down power to sustain hibernation…”

“Lucky me.”

Desjani had her eyes locked on him again. “Many believe it wasn’t a matter of luck, Captain Geary. An awful lot of things had to work out just right for you to end up alive on this warship just when the Alliance needed you. Just when we needed you.”

Great. More proof to the believers that I’ve been sent by the living stars to … do what? Are they “only” expecting me to somehow lead this fleet to safety, or is that just the start of their dreams?

How do I tell them otherwise? And what happens when they learn I’m just a very fallible man upon whom fate played a lot of nasty tricks?

Geary realized she was watching him with concern. “What? Is something wrong?”

“No! It’s just … you were silent a long time, not looking at anything. I did get a bit worried.”

The last batch of meds must’ve started wearing off, or recent events had just overwhelmed even what the meds could do. “I guess I need to rest some.”

“There’s no reason not to now. It’s three weeks transit time to Corvus in jump space. Plenty of time to recover.” Desjani looked briefly guilty. “The fleet physicians want to see you again as soon as possible. I’m supposed to tell you that.”

I bet they do. Am I better off avoiding them or seeking them out? “Thanks. And thanks for everything else, Tanya. I’m glad I’m on Dauntless.”

It was amazing how a smile could transform Captain Desjani’s face. “As am I, Captain Geary.”

He sat for a few minutes after she’d left, unable to work up the mental or physical energy to do anything else. Three weeks to Corvus. Not so long, but an eternity of time for a fleet of ships whose futures had once seemed confined to the space of a hour.

The bedding had been changed at some point, saving Geary the dilemma of either asking for help getting new bedding or sleeping in Admiral Bloch’s sheets. He slept for a long time, his sleep restless with vivid dreams that he couldn’t recall at all during brief periods of waking.

Eventually he got up, unable to sleep through the muffled sounds of the working-day life of the Dauntless that came to him even inside the well-insulated stateroom. Grateful to find himself feeling stronger, he rummaged in compartments, trying to ignore anything that looked like a personal possession of the late Admiral Bloch, and found some unopened ration bars that, for all he could tell, were as chronologically as old as he was.

It wasn’t like he felt like enjoying food, though, so the ration bars sufficed for a small breakfast.

Now what? Now he had the luxury of time. The Alliance fleet would be in jump space for weeks. He could actually find out a little bit more about what had happened since he’d entered that survival pod and started his long sleep. From what he’d heard and seen already, much of recent history wouldn’t make pleasant reading, but he had to know it if he wanted to understand these strangers he’d been thrust into commanding.

As it turned out, the modern version of the Sailor’s Manual contained what appeared to be a decent condensed history of events since his “last stand.”

Geary skipped hastily over the account of what had once been his final battle. He’d never been comfortable hearing even routine praise for himself, so the idea of reading a worshipful account of his actions made him feel almost ill. Especially when even levelheaded and experienced officers like Captain Desjani seemed to think he’d been sent back by the living stars to somehow save the Alliance.

But as he started to read past the story of “Black Jack Geary’s Last Stand” he stopped to stare at the date. Almost one hundred years ago. To me, it all happened less than two weeks past. I remember it so clearly. I remember that battle and those people in my crew and getting into that survival pod with my ship being ripped apart around me and Death riding on my shoulder. It was only two weeks ago. To me.

They’re all dead. The ones who died on my ship and the ones who got away safe. All the same now. And even the children of those who survived are dead, too. All that’s left is me.

He put his head down and couldn’t think of anything but grief for a long time.

Eventually, Geary made it through the history, finding it to be a relentlessly positive account of battles lost and won, making even what sounded to Geary like defeats seem like they’d somehow been part of a master plan. But that was an official history for you. What Captain Desjani had told him, of a stalemate lasting for decade after decade, was obvious when he read between the lines. As the history drew close to the present day, it seemed to become almost shrill in its patriotic exhortations, a sure sign to Geary’s way of thinking that morale was perceived as shaky.

The Sailor’s Manual had always been intended to teach the basics, so its contents couldn’t confirm Geary’s belief that the officers and sailors of the Alliance fleet were, on average, young and minimally trained. But as fleet commander he could access any personnel files he wanted, and those he checked at random all told the same story. Most of the personnel in the fleet had painfully little experience. A few had survived through luck or innate skill long enough to really know what they were doing, but they were a small minority. Each of the great victories celebrated in the history Geary had read had obviously taken a serious toll. Even though the official history didn’t admit to any defeats, Geary figured those had cost plenty as well.

He wondered how officers like Captains Numos and Faresa had stayed alive while so many others had died. Granted he’d only seen them briefly, but he hadn’t gained the impression that either of them were especially skilled. He suspected they were like some officers he’d once known, the ones who somehow managed to always let someone else take the risks, who worked hard at maintaining their image while avoiding actions that might hazard them or their image. But he had no proof of that, so for the time being at least all he could do was watch Numos and Faresa in the hope of either confirming or refuting his suspicions.

Having stalled as long as he could, Geary steeled himself and called up the record of Commander Michael Geary. As he’d guessed, and as had been apparent from the way he’d fought his ship, his grandnephew had been one of the experienced and skilled survivors. Not because he’d held back in action, either. Michael Geary had indeed spent a lifetime trying to live up to the heroic standards of Black Jack Geary. He’d finally achieved that goal by dying in battle.

A lot of amateurs and a few survivors. No, they were all survivors, of a war that’d kept going for a long, long time, with occasional cease-fires that had apparently only been agreed to so that both sides could rearm after particularly heavy losses.

I need to talk to these people. Geary stared at the door to his stateroom, grateful for the protection it offered but also knowing he couldn’t keep hiding here. I have to get to know them, see how well they can still hold up under pressure. Based on the people I’ve met so far, they’ll keep trying for a while because of their irrational faith in me, but what happens after I’ve made enough mistakes, after I’ve made it clear that I’m not the mythical Black Jack Geary but really just Commander John Geary, promoted to Captain after his “death” and not sure what the hell to do or how to get them home safe? What then?

The only way to learn the answer to that question was to get out past that stateroom door.

For the next several days, Geary devoted perhaps half his time to studying and the other half to walking through the Dauntless. He’d set an informal goal of trying to walk to every compartment in the ship, if for no other reason than he knew letting the crew see him would be important for their morale. He also desperately wanted them to see him as human, before he proved his fallibility again, but he wasn’t sure he was making much progress on that account.

On one such walk, he stopped by the compartment containing Dauntless’s null-field projector. The null-field’s crew stood around, smiling, as Geary stared at the massive, squat device. Something about the size and shape of the weapon made him think of a mythical giant troll, resting on its haunches as it waited patiently for a victim to come close enough. Geary did his best to hide his misgivings and smiled back at the crew. “The weapon’s ready to employ?”

“Yes, sir!” The crew chief, who looked so young Geary wondered if he’d been shaving for very long, laid a possessive hand on the monster. “It’s in perfect condition. We run checks every day, just like the manuals say, and if anything looks even a little off, we make sure it’s fixed.”

Another of the null-field’s crew spoke up, her proud tone matching that of the crew chief. “We’ll be ready, Captain. Any Syndic warship that gets within range is gonna get fogged real good.”

It took Geary a moment to realize that “fogged” must refer to what would be left after a null-field shot reduced anything, and anyone, within its target area into subatomic particles. Somehow, he nodded and smiled in response to the boast. Gunners loved their guns. They always had and probably always would. That’s why they were gunners. And his ancestors knew the fleet needed good gunners. “The next time we get up close with the Syndics, we’ll see if we can give you that shot.” The crew grinned and pumped their fists into the air. I don’t have the heart to tell them that Dauntless can’t be risked if I can help it. But there’s all too great a chance we might end up getting close to Syndic warships whether I like it or not before this is all over.

The hell-lance battery crews weren’t quite as enthusiastic, but then unlike the null-fields, their personal toys weren’t brand-new weapons that they’d gotten to be the first to play with. Geary easily recognized the hell-lance projectors, even though these bulked three times the size of the ones he’d known.

A veteran Chief Petty Officer at a hell-lance battery patted one of the weapons. “I bet you wish you’d had one of these girls along on your last battle, eh, Captain?”

Geary managed that polite smile again. “It would’ve come in very handy.”

“Not that you needed one, sir,” the chief added hastily. “That battle of yours … everyone knows about it. This stuff today is great, but they don’t make ships or sailors like that anymore.”

Geary knew the truth of the statement, but he knew another truth as well. He looked at the dull surface of the hell-lance for a moment, then shook his head. “You’re wrong, Chief.” Then he cocked one eyebrow at the others present. “One of the advantages of being fleet commander is that I get to tell a chief he’s wrong.” They all laughed, then stopped when Geary spoke again, his voice measured. “They still make great ships and great sailors. You all saw Repulse.” His voice caught on the last word, but that was okay because he saw the sailors’ reactions and knew they understood and felt the same way. “We’ll get the damage to our ships repaired, we’ll restock our expendable weapons, and the next time we meet the Syndic fleet, we’ll make them pay a hundred times over for Repulse.”

They cheered. He felt like a fraud, mouthing words he didn’t really believe. But they had to believe in themselves, and mistaken or not, they believed in him.

As he turned to go, the chief yelled over the cheers. “We’ll make you proud you commanded us, Black Jack!”

Ancestors help me. But Geary turned and spoke as the crowd fell silent to listen. “I’m already proud to command you.”

And they cheered again, but that was okay, because what he’d said this time was completely true.

He had to be escorted by Captain Desjani when he went to see the hypernet key in its secured area. About half as large as a cargo container, the device took up most of the space in the compartment where it rested. Geary walked around the outside, seeing the power cables snaking into it and the control lines weaving in and out. He looked at it for a long time, wondering at how something so ordinary in appearance could be so important.

“Captain Geary.” The only good thing about Co-President Victoria Rione’s expression was that it was marginally less cold than her tone of voice.

“Madam Co-President.” Geary stepped back to allow her into his stateroom. He’d been trying to wean himself off the meds and hadn’t taken any today, which had left him feeling even worse than usual and in no mood for a visitor. But given her authority over some of the ships in the fleet, he couldn’t send Rione away. “To what do I owe the honor of this visit?”

Apparently, he didn’t quite manage to keep the irony out of his voice, because Rione’s expression dropped a few more degrees toward absolute zero. But she walked into the stateroom, waited while Geary closed the door, then eyed him silently.

If she’s trying to unnerve me, she’s doing a good job. Geary tried not to let Rione anger him, since he had a feeling that Rione used such emotions to trick her opponents into saying and doing things they’d probably regret. “Would you like to sit down?”

“No.” She turned and walked the three steps that took her to the far bulkhead, apparently absorbed in studying the picture there. It was a legacy of Admiral Bloch, of course, a stunning starscape that was just the sort of thing you’d expect to find in a naval officer’s stateroom. Rione spent perhaps a minute looking at the picture, then turned toward Geary again. “Do you like starscapes, Captain Geary?”

Small talk. He hadn’t expected that, and it made him warier than ever. “Not particularly.”

“You can change it. You can put any picture from the ship’s graphic library on here.”

“I know.” He refused to add that he hadn’t been able to bring himself to wipe out the picture because it represented a legacy of Admiral Bloch’s former presence here.

Rione eyed him for several seconds longer before speaking again. “What are your intentions, Captain Geary?”

My intentions are purely honorable, ma’am. The incongruous thought arose totally unbidden, causing Geary to pretend to cough so he wouldn’t laugh instead. “Excuse me. Madam Co-President, as we discussed earlier, I intend to try to get this fleet back to Alliance space.”

“Don’t evade the question, Captain. We’re en route to the Corvus System. I want to know what you intend doing next.”

If I knew for sure, I’d tell you. But perhaps Rione’s visit wasn’t such a bad thing after all. She was apparently one of the few people on this ship who didn’t worship the space he sailed through, she’d already made it clear she wouldn’t hesitate to express her opinions, and as far as he could tell from their earlier conversation she had a good head on her shoulders. Granted, she also didn’t try to hide her dislike of him, but unlike the hostility he’d seen from people like Captains Numos and Faresa, at least the Republic Co-President’s disdain seemed tempered by some degree of common sense. “I’d like to discuss that with you.”

“Really?” Rione’s skepticism was clear from both her tone and her expression.

“Yes. Though I ask that our discussions remain confidential. I hope you understand.”

“Of course.”

Geary took one step to the table and painstakingly worked the still unfamiliar controls to call up its display. Stars glowed in the air above the table’s surface, then winked out. Cursing under his breath, Geary tried again, and this time the display remained steady. “We’re got some options.”

“Options.”

“Yes.” If she can talk in one-word sentences, so can I. Geary carefully manipulated the controls, and the stars were replaced with a miniature picture of how the Alliance fleet would currently appear to a godlike observer. “We’re likely to have a head start through Corvus before any Syndics come through the jump exit behind us. A few hours, at least.”

Rione frowned and came to stand near him, one arm almost touching his, but apparently as unreactive to his personal presence as if he were another wall. “The Syndic fleet was in very close pursuit when we entered jump. Surely they’ll still be right behind us when we enter the Corvus System.”

“I don’t think so.” Geary pointed toward the display. “We’ll be disposed like this when we leave jump. It’s a decent formation. More important, we’ve got plenty of heavy firepower toward the rear of the formation.”

“Heavier than the Syndics?”

Sarcasm definitely didn’t become Co-President Rione, Geary decided. “Locally, yes. When we entered jump, the Syndics were focused on trying to stop or slow some of our big units long enough for their big ships to catch up and destroy them. But the situation will be different on the other side of the jump if the Syndics come through right behind us. They’re all strung out. Their light stuff would run head-on into our main strength. We could send our own slow units on ahead while our best ships stayed at the jump exit and trashed the light Syndic ships as they came through.” He paused, then shook his head. “No, they won’t have followed us through immediately. They’ll have to take time to reform their forces. They can’t make a jump in that wall formation of theirs because it’s spread so wide the outer portions wouldn’t be within the jump point. They’ll call back the HuKs and other light units, get the heavies rearranged, and then…”

She raised one eyebrow. “Then?”

“That’s a big question.” Geary looked at her, trying to figure out if he could trust Rione or her judgments. Trust them or not, she may think of something I haven’t. “I’d like your thoughts on something.”

Rione gave him a guarded look, her skepticism still obvious. “My thoughts.”

“Yes. On what we do next.”

“Then before you say anything else, let me say this. Don’t misjudge your strength, Captain Geary.”

He frowned, feeling the weakness in his body, resenting that weakness and Rione’s apparent allusion to it. “What exactly does that mean? I’m physically capable of—”

“No. Not your personal strength. The strength of this fleet.” Rione waved one hand dismissively toward the depiction of the Alliance fleet. “Those give you a surface picture. They don’t tell you what’s inside.”

“Are you saying I can’t trust my information?”

“The information on the fleet is accurate as far as it goes.” She gestured again in apparent frustration. “I don’t know the right word to describe the problem. This fleet is like a piece of metal that seems very strong. But when struck, it breaks fairly easily. Do you understand?”

He did. “Brittle. You’re saying the fleet’s brittle. Strong-looking but too easily shattered by a blow. Is that right?”

Rione appeared surprised. “That’s exactly what I meant.”

“But not physical weakness. Not flaws in ship construction or weaponry.”

“I begin to feel certain you know that is not what I’m referring to.”

And I begin to feel certain there’s more to you than meets the eye, Co-President Rione. “I appreciate your assessment.”

“You don’t seem to be startled by it. Frankly, I thought you’d react angrily.”

Geary gave her an obviously false smile. “I like surprising people.” Which is one reason why I won’t tell you that I’ve no intention of letting this fleet stay brittle if I can help it. Metal can be reforged, tempered. So can this fleet. I hope. Though whether I or anybody else could succeed in doing that under these conditions is another question. “I’ve been trying to get to know—” He almost said “these people” before checking himself. “This fleet. They’re good, but as I was told some time back”—a little more than a week ago—“they’re tired.”

“This isn’t the type of tiredness that can be cured by a good night’s sleep, Captain Geary.”

“I know that, Madam Co-President.”

“If you commit these ships to a major battle, even under the conditions you describe, they may fail you.”

Geary looked down and bit his lip. That’s exactly what I’m afraid of, but I don’t know what she might repeat to others. “I don’t intend seeking a major fleet engagement at this time.”

“That is not a reassuring statement. It is critically important to the Alliance, as well as to the Callas Republic and the Rift Federation, that these ships return to Alliance space!”

“I know that, Madam Co-President.”

“We must avoid losing more ships.”

Geary glowered at her. “Madam Co-President, contrary to whatever you appear to believe, I am not in the habit of spending ships and the lives of sailors as if they were loose change rattling around in my pocket.” Her eyes narrowed, but Rione stayed silent for the moment. “I don’t intend to seek out a fleet engagement. I have no idea whether or not the Syndics will be able to force such an action. But I will do all I can to maximize the odds in our favor, no matter what.”

Rione stayed silent a little longer before answering. “That’s hardly a promise, Captain Geary.”

“I don’t make promises I can’t keep. I can’t control what the Syndics do, and I can’t be certain what kind of situations we’ll face. Surely you understand military realities enough to know that sometimes units must be risked?”

“Units like Repulse?”

Geary glared at her. “Yes,” he rasped.

Instead of speaking again, Rione just seemed to study Geary for several seconds. “Very well, Captain Geary. I must add that in the case of the Repulse, I have been remiss.” She inclined her head slightly toward him. “May I offer my personal condolences on your family’s loss, as well as my official condolences, and thanks for your family’s sacrifice, on behalf of the Callas Republic.”

He looked down at the deck, composing himself, then nodded back. “Thank you, Madam Co-President. I didn’t know you were aware I was related to the commander of the Repulse.” He knew his voice sounded rough and knew he couldn’t do anything about it.

“Yes. I should’ve expressed my sympathies much earlier, and beg your forgiveness.”

“That’s all right.” He straightened himself and took a deep breath. “There’ve been many, many sacrifices.” Rione still didn’t look friendly, but she seemed perhaps a few degrees warmer. The last thing he wanted to do now, though, was talk about the dead, so he changed the subject without worrying about being obvious. “As I said earlier, I’d appreciate your assessment on something.” Looking away from her, Geary concentrated on the controls for the table and once again called up a display of stars. “We’re jumping in here, inside Corvus System. We’ll swing through, picking up whatever supplies we can grab in the time available.”

He indicated the jump exit, then swung his finger to point out another area. “This is the jump point out of Corvus. We’ve got three possible destinations.” He highlighted a star. “Yuon’s one of them, and it’s pretty near along a straight shot back to Alliance space.” Another star. “Voss, which goes a bit back the other way, deeper into Syndic territory.” And the third. “Kaliban. Which just sort of carries us along inside Syndic space, but sets us up to potentially jump to four other stars.” He paused. “Suppose you were the Syndic commanders, Co-President Rione. Where would you expect us to go?”

She didn’t hesitate. “Yuon.”

“Because?”

“We’re running, Captain Geary. The fleet is running for its life. And Yuon offers the fastest route home. Not fast, by any means, compared to hypernet. But significantly faster than the alternatives.”

He looked down at the display, rubbing his jaw. “Doesn’t that make it too obvious a choice? Too obvious a place for the Syndic fleet to jump into and wait for us?”

“I repeat, our fleet fled the Syndic home system. We’re in hostile territory. Running is the only reasonable option.”

“Alright, I agree we need to run. We also need to avoid getting caught, which means we need to steer clear of an obvious route.”

“In theory, yes. But we’re constrained by the realities of our condition. The Syndics will know you want to go to Yuon, Captain Geary.”

Geary gave her a twisted smile. “But I don’t want to go to Yuon, Madam Co-President.”

She stiffened, and Geary could swear he saw ice forming inside her eyes. “Voss! You’re planning on jumping back toward the Syndic home system, then jumping in again, hoping the defenses will be surprised and the fleet off chasing us—”

Geary held up both hands, palms out. “No.”

“No?” Rione took a step to the side, as if circling him warily, and watched his face.

“No. In a perfect world, maybe.” In a perfect world, we wouldn’t be fighting a war that’s a century old. “But I can read those damage reports on our ships, and I can total up the weapons we’ve expended and the state of our supplies. Just as well as I can guess at the current ability of this fleet to handle another major battle.” Geary shook his head. “It’d be an insane risk.”

“I agree.” Rione said that cautiously, as if still waiting for Geary to spring a trap.

“But the Syndics will have to defend against that chance, won’t they? That means putting a blocking force in Voss and keeping some reinforcements for their home system close at hand. Just in case I’m insane,” he added dryly. “That’ll deplete the forces they have to chase us.”

“So you are going to Yuon?”

“No. I want to go to Kaliban.”

“Kaliban?” Rione’s eyes shifted rapidly from Geary to the star display. “What does Kaliban grant us?”

“Time and the greatest degree of relative safety.” He raised another palm, forestalling more objections. “I know time is our enemy, too. But it gives the fleet more time to recover. Our auxiliaries are building more expendable weaponry now, grapeshot and specters, and we’ll pick up materials to build more while we’re in Corvus, I hope. We’ll get more damage fixed. Yes, once we reach Kaliban, we’ll need to jog toward home. And we’ll be in desperate need of resupply, so we have to find enough of what we need there. But we’ll have a couple of good star options for our next jump, one okay option, and one risky option. That’ll leave the Syndics with four places to guard even if they’ve been able to localize our fleet by then.”

Rione looked thoughtful as she nodded. “And what of this degree of relative safety?”

Geary indicated the stars again. “We’ve been beat up, and the Syndics have us badly outnumbered. But the Syndic fleet doesn’t have an infinite number of ships. The more they divide what they’ve got to try to catch us, the better the odds we’ll face if they do catch us. Here,” he pointed to Yuon. “They need to put enough ships there to at least hurt us a lot more if we go through that system. But they also need to put ships into Voss to protect against that possibility. And they’ve got to keep the pressure on us, which means a strong force pursuing us through Corvus.”

“I see. That leaves little for Kaliban. If you’re right. But how sure can you be that the Syndics will disregard the chance you’ll go to Kaliban?”

“I don’t think they’ll disregard it,” Geary corrected. “I think they’ll consider it by far the least likely objective for us, and they’ll regard it as much less critical a matter than if we went to Yuon or Voss. Going to either of those stars would create an immediate problem for the Syndics. If we go to Kaliban, we’re still a problem, but one they’ll think leaves them time to deal with us.” He stared down at the representation of Kaliban. I just wish I knew what the Syndics had at Kaliban. The little intelligence we have is more than a half-century old. Hell, I wish I knew what they had at Corvus.

“Why are you explaining this to me?”

He glanced at her. “As I said, I want your opinion.”

“You sound like you’ve already made up your mind.”

He tried not to sound irritated. “No. I’m trying to formulate a plan, and I’m thinking through options. You have a different way of looking at things, so I value your impressions.”

For a moment, Geary could swear Rione looked slightly amused. “Then I tell you that I’d go through Yuon.”

“I see—”

“I’m not finished. I’d go through Yuon. But what you’ve said is true, and I myself warned you that we must avoid a major battle. I now believe as you do that Kaliban will be the best option.”

Geary gave her a wry smile. “Then may I assume the ships of the Republic and the Rift will follow my orders and go to Kaliban?”

“Yes, Captain Geary.” Her expression shifted. “Getting the rest of the Alliance fleet to go there will be your task alone, I’m afraid.”

She thinks that’ll be a problem. I hadn’t thought that far. The fleet’s ship commanders followed me out of the Syndic home system. But they were facing imminent death, and even then some of them wanted to debate things.

And they’re all tired and want to get home.

Rione was once more apparently studying the starscape. “I regret to say I know little of your personal life, Captain Geary. Did you leave anyone behind?”

He pondered the question. “It depends how you mean that. My father and mother were still alive. My brother was married. He didn’t have any kids, yet, though.” Funny how he could say that and somehow emotionally divorce it from the image of the older man who’d been his brother’s grandson, and who’d died on the Repulse.

“No life partner?”

“No.” He realized she was looking at him and wondered how a one-word answer could reveal so much to her. “Nothing that worked out.”

“A blessing, perhaps?”

“In light of what happened to me, yeah.” Geary shook his head. “I always thought they’d have finally figured out how to extend the lifespan by now.”

“Alas, no.” Rione was, to all appearances, studying the starscape again as she spoke. “You know what’s happened every time they’ve tried. Nature will let us keep humans healthy and strong nearly up to the end, but come the end still does, even though scientists have taken the human body apart down to the quantum level and rebuilt it in an effort to change that.”

Geary, feeling tired again, sat down and leaned back, closing his eyes for a moment. “It’s enough to give someone religion.”

“It’s certainly enough to make someone think about it.” She glanced at Geary. “Is there an ancestral home?”

“Not unless they’ve built one since the last time I was back.”

“Where will you go when we return to Alliance space?”

“I don’t know.” He stared at nothing, his mind wandering. “There’s somebody I need to look up on the Dreadnought, wherever that ship is.”

Rione didn’t mask her surprise. “You know someone on a ship back in Alliance space?”

“Not really. I have a message for her, though, that somebody asked me to deliver.” Geary brooded on that for a moment while Rione waited, then shrugged. “After that, maybe I’ll go to Kosatka.”

“Kosatka?”

“It was a nice place, once. I hear it’s still nice.”

“Kosatka,” Rione repeated. “I do not think your fate lies on Kosatka, Captain Geary.”

“Do you foretell the future as well as read minds?”

“All I read are people, Captain.” Co-President Rione walked back to the hatch, pausing in the entrance. “Thank you for your time, and for your confidences.”

“You’re welcome.” He half-rose as she left, then sat back down heavily, weary once again and wondering why his stomach felt so tight.

“Kaliban?” Captain Desjani stared at Geary. “But the way home lies through Yuon.”

“Captain, the Syndics know you’re thinking that. They’ll be there.”

“But not in enough strength—”

“How can you know that?” Geary realized he was snapping at Desjani and reigned in his temper. “You told me yourself. The Syndic ships in their home system could hypernet to, uh, Zaqi and then jump to Yuon in a little less time than it’d take us to get to Corvus, transit that system, and jump to Yuon. They could have their entire damned fleet there, except for the ships pursuing us, which would come out of the jump exit and hit us from the rear.”

“But Yuon…” Desjani’s voice trailed off.

Geary saw the desperate weariness in her and felt a stab of shame at his own anger. “I’m sorry, Tanya. I know how much you want to get home. I want to get us there, too.”

“The Alliance needs this fleet, Captain Geary. And it needs Dauntless and what Dauntless carries. The sooner the better.”

“The Syndics’ll be waiting for us at Yuon, Tanya. If we go that way, we won’t get home.”

She finally nodded. “They understand us too well, don’t they?” When Geary didn’t answer immediately, Desjani continued. “The Syndics knew we’d jump at the bait they offered, the chance to hit their home system, and now they’ll know we’ll head straight home through Yuon.”

“I’m afraid so.”

“But you see clearer than that. You know we must take a longer route.”

Geary suppressed a groan of exasperation. Maybe I just don’t have the same emotional need to get home as badly as you other people do! “I’m going to notify all ships of our planned destination before we leave jump—”

“Captain!”

“What?”

Captain Desjani adopted a formal posture. “Sir, you must inform the ships’ commanding officers of this decision in person.”

He tried to dampen an immediate flare of annoyance. “I’ve been told that if we transmit it in jump there’s zero chance of the Syndics ever intercepting the message. And in any case I’m not going to put it to a vote.”

“I’m not saying you should put it to a vote, Captain, but you need to tell them yourself.” She must’ve read his feelings on his face. “I know this isn’t how you did things in the old days, but it’s how we’re used to doing things now.” Another pause. “Sir, you must lead personally! You can’t do that by sending a brief text message.”

The last thing he wanted to do was face that crowd of officers again, knowing that some believed in him with all the fervor of Captain Desjani and some thought him a living fossil who needed to be cast aside. “Tanya, we’re probably going to be awfully busy every second this fleet is in the Corvus System. Even if the Syndics don’t send ships jumping into the system right on our tails, they’ll still be coming at some point. We don’t know what kind of defenses the Syndics have in Corvus. We’ll need to decide what facilities to ransack, overcome, or overawe any resistance…” Desjani just looked back at him stubbornly. Face it. My gut tells me Desjani is right. I had to convince her in person about Yuon. If she’s refusing to be convinced now, it’s because her professional judgment says I need to talk those other ship commanders into going to Kaliban.

Nice to know Desjani won’t cave when she thinks I’m wrong even if she does believe I’m the ancestors’ gift to this fleet.

Geary nodded, not bothering to hide his reluctance from her. “Okay, Tanya. You win. As soon as we’re certain no immediate Syndic pursuit is coming out of the jump point on our tails, I’ll call a conference and tell everyone in person that we’re going to Kaliban and not Yuon.” She didn’t answer. “Okay. I’ll also tell them why we’re going to Kaliban and not Yuon.”

“Thank you, Captain. I hope you understand—”

“I do. And I thank you for making clear your recommendation.”

“Whatever waits for us at Corvus can’t be too dangerous, Captain Geary. They won’t even know the outcome of the battle in the Syndic home system.”

“Yeah.” Maybe we’ll be able to use that somehow. “But Corvus is so close to the Syndic home world it might be a tough nut.”

Desjani made a dismissive gesture. “It’s not on the Syndic hypernet.”

Geary thought about the way she’d said that. “That obviously means more than I realize. Explain it to me, please.”

She looked surprised, then nodded. “I just assumed you knew, but how could you? The hypernet lets someone go very quickly from wherever they are to wherever they want to be. They don’t have to go through other places to get there.”

“Oh.” Damn. I said it again. “With the system jump drives you have to jump through systems within range to eventually reach where you’re headed.”

“Yes.” Desjani nodded again. “Many, many systems only mattered because people had to go through them to get to somewhere else. They didn’t have any special resources or other significance. Once a hypernet is up, all that passing-through traffic vanishes.”

Geary thought about that. “I can’t imagine that benefited the bypassed systems.”

“No. The only reason someone will go to them now is if they have personal reasons or because the system has something special. But if the system does have something special, it’ll be on the hypernet.”

He had a vision of many broken branches withering away even as the main tree flourished. “What’s happened to them?”

She shrugged. “Some have put their resources into trying to get hypernet gates, but few have succeeded. Some have tried to make themselves special in some way so others would lobby for a gate for them. Again, few have managed that. Most were never that wealthy to begin with and have been slowly declining as trade bypasses them and they lose touch with technological and cultural developments being shared through the hypernet. The best and brightest people from such systems always seek to emigrate to hypernet-linked systems as well, of course.”

“I see.” A bit like me. Isolated and increasingly outdated. Bypassed by the hypernet and by history. I wonder how some of these Syndic systems will react when I bring the Alliance fleet through? At least they’ll be part of history again.

We’ll exit jump at Corvus in another week and find out just how that system has fared since being bypassed by the Syndic hypernet. I’d better work on my speech to the ship commanders, and keep praying that the Syndic plan wasn’t devious enough to include setting a trap inside Corvus for any Alliance ships that managed to jump out of their home system.