Dreadnaught

Table of Contents

Title Page

Copyright Page

Dedication

Acknowledgements

ONE

TWO

THREE

FOUR

FIVE

SIX

SEVEN

EIGHT

NINE

TEN

ELEVEN

TWELVE

THIRTEEN

FOURTEEN

Ace Books by Jack Campbell

THE LOST FLEET: DAUNTLESS

THE LOST FLEET: FEARLESS

THE LOST FLEET: COURAGEOUS

THE LOST FLEET: VALIANT

THE LOST FLEET: RELENTLESS

THE LOST FLEET: VICTORIOUS

THE LOST FLEET: BEYOND THE FRONTIER: DREADNAUGHT

THE BERKLEY PUBLISHING GROUP

Published by the Penguin Group

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Penguin Books Ltd., Registered Offices: 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England

This is an original publication of The Berkley Publishing Group.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.

Copyright © 2011 by John G. Hemry.

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions. ACE and the “A” design are trademarks of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Campbell, Jack.

The lost fleet : beyond the frontier : dreadnaught / Jack Campbell. p. cm.

eISBN : 978-1-101-51403-0

1. Space ships—Fiction. 2. Imaginary wars and battles—Fiction. I. Title. II. Title: Dreadnaught. PS3553.A4637L’.6—dc22

2010054262

http://us.penguingroup.com

To my uncle Oliver Holmes “Rick” Ulrickson, who sailed for his last home port in May 2010. The youngest in my mother’s family, with six older sisters, he somehow survived childhood to serve in the Navy, work in aerospace (including NASA’s Johnson Space Center Mission Control tracking system), and mentor many students at Texas Christian University. He was an amateur historian, he read a lot, he sang, and he was active in the civil rights movement in the sixties and seventies, but his proudest achievement in life was undoubtedly his family. You’ll be missed, Uncle Oliver.

For S., as always.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

I remain indebted to my agent, Joshua Bilmes, for his ever-inspired suggestions and assistance, and to my editor, Anne Sowards, for her support and editing. Thanks also to Catherine Asaro, Robert Chase, J. G. (Huck) Huckenpohler, Simcha Kuritzky, Michael La Violette, Aly Parsons, Bud Sparhawk, and Constance A. Warner for their suggestions, comments, and recommendations. Thanks also to Charles Petit for his suggestions about space engagements.

THE FIRST FLEET OF THE ALLIANCE

ADMIRAL JOHN GEARY, COMMANDING

SECOND BATTLESHIP DIVISION

Gallant

Indomitable

Glorious

Magnificent

FOURTH BATTLESHIP DIVISION

Warspite

Vengeance

Revenge

Guardian

SEVENTH BATTLESHIP DIVISION

Colossus

Encroach

Amazon

Spartan

FIRST BATTLE CRUISER DIVISION

Inspire

Formidable

Brilliant

Implacable

FOURTH BATTLE CRUISER DIVISION

Dauntless (flagship)

Daring

Victorious

Intemperate

SIXTH BATTLE CRUISER DIVISION

Illustrious

Incredible

Invincible

THIRD BATTLESHIP DIVISION

Dreadnaught

Orion

Dependable

Conqueror

FIFTH BATTLESHIP DIVISION

Fearless

Resolution

Redoubtable

EIGHTH BATTLESHIP DIVISION

Relentless

Reprisal

Superb

Splendid

SECOND BATTLE CRUISER DIVISION

Leviathan

Dragon

Steadfast

Valiant

FIFTH BATTLE CRUISER DIVISION

Adroit

FIFTH ASSAULT TRANSPORT DIVISION

Tsunami

Typhoon

Mistral

Haboob

FIRST AUXILIARIES DIVISION

Titan

Tanuki

Kupua

Domovoi

SECOND AUXILIARIES DIVISION

Witch

Jinn

Alchemist

Cyclops

THIRTY-ONE HEAVY CRUISERS IN SIX DIVISIONS

First Heavy Cruiser Division

Third Heavy Cruiser Division Fourth Heavy Cruiser Division

Fifth Heavy Cruiser Division Eighth Heavy Cruiser Division

Tenth Heavy Cruiser Division

FIFTY-FIVE LIGHT CRUISERS IN TEN SQUADRONS

First Light Cruiser Squadron

Second Light Cruiser Squadron

Third Light Cruiser Squadron

Fifth Light Cruiser Squadron

Sixth Light Cruiser Squadron

Eighth Light Cruiser Squadron

Ninth Light Cruiser Squadron

Tenth Light Cruiser Squadron

Eleventh Light Cruiser Squadron

Fourteenth Light Cruiser Squadron

ONE HUNDRED SIXTY DESTROYERS IN EIGHTEEN SQUADRONS

First Destroyer Squadron

Second Destroyer Squadron

Third Destroyer Squadron

Fourth Destroyer Squadron

Sixth Destroyer Squadron

Seventh Destroyer Squadron

Ninth Destroyer Squadron

Tenth Destroyer Squadron

Twelfth Destroyer Squadron

Fourteenth Destroyer Squadron

Sixteenth Destroyer Squadron

Seventeenth Destroyer Squadron

Twentieth Destroyer Squadron

Twenty-first Destroyer Squadron

Twenty-third Destroyer Squadron

Twenty-seventh Destroyer Squadron

Twenty-eighth Destroyer Squadron

Thirty-second Destroyer Squadron

FIRST FLEET MARINE FORCE

Major General Carabali, commanding

3,000 Marines on assault transports and divided into detachments on battle cruisers and battleships

ONE

INNUMERABLE stars like brilliant diamonds carelessly flung across endless space shone upon the hull of the civilian passenger ship. Bright, but cold, their light far too distant to give any warmth, the stars formed constellations in which humans tried to find meaning. Admiral John “Black Jack” Geary, watching those stars, thought about the fact that the constellations changed depending on where you were, but the meaning of it all somehow didn’t change.

He just wished he knew what that meaning of it all was. He had lost one battle, long ago, and discovered much later that the loss had meant something much different than he had imagined. Lately, he had won much bigger battles; but what those meant, what his future would be from this day forward, remained as uncertain as whatever messages the stars wrote across the sky.

The passenger ship had exited the hypernet gate at the particular star known to humans as Varandal. Over the dozen decades since it had been built, the ship had traveled between many stars, and while the stars themselves had burned on unchanging to the naked eye, the ship had felt those years. Men and women had worked to keep its systems functioning and its hull strong, but where the life of stars was measured in billions of years, the life spans of human creations were often less than a century.

This ship was old, moving almost as deftly as ever, but feeling the accumulated stress of years in the materials from which it had been built. It should have been replaced long ago. However, a civilization caught in a seemingly endless war couldn’t afford such luxuries; instead, it diverted those resources to warships to replace countless other warships lost in countless battles.

But on this voyage, now that peace had come a month ago, the crew had spoken of rumors of new ships. No one knew for sure. So far, peace hadn’t brought any major improvements, hadn’t brought money or lives to replace what had been lost in the long war with the Syndicate Worlds. No one even knew exactly what “peace” was. No one living had been alive the last time humanity knew peace, before the Syndics attacked the Alliance a century ago.

No, that wasn’t right. One man still living had been alive then, miraculously surviving a century in survival sleep to lead the fleet to victory, to bring this peace, which somehow felt not all that different from the once-endless war that had finally come to an end. And now he looked at the stars and wondered what new turns awaited his life.

Alliance government warns of threat to all humanity from alien race.

Geary lowered his gaze back to the news headlines scrolling under the star display. “When we left Varandal a few weeks ago, the existence of intelligent aliens was still supposed to be secret.”

Sitting on the bed nearby, Captain Tanya Desjani glanced over at the headline before resuming her scrutiny of a ration bar. “We fought a battle with them. The whole fleet knows they’re out there.” She waved at another display set on one bulkhead, the new ring on one of her fingers flashing a moment as the star sapphire set within it caught the light.

A virtual window, the display showed another view outside their passenger ship; but on this one, the countless stars and the planets illuminated by the radiance of Varandal were dimmed by symbols revealing things invisible to human eyes from that distance. Hundreds of glowing images, representing the warships in the main Alliance fleet, hung apparently unmoving against the backdrop of space even though those warships were in fixed orbits about the star. The scene conveyed two very different sensations, one of them awe at the scale of humanity’s achievements. But against that awe was the reality that, as massive as the fleet’s battleships, battle cruisers, and lesser warships were in human terms, they were tiny when measured against the expanse of the star system and completely insignificant compared to even a small region of the galaxy.

Geary let his eyes linger on the view, realizing how much he had missed those still-unseen, utilitarian, and battle-scarred ships. His own home world had become foreign to him, but for all the changes a harsh century had wrought, the fleet had remained a place in which he felt he belonged. The men and women who had grown up with war and seen all of its terrors, who had been shaped in part by those bloody experiences, still remained sailors like him. Also, the formal end of hostilities with the Syndics should have brought rest from their labors, but this version of peace seemed unlikely to offer that. “I thought we were trying to figure out how to keep from fighting any more battles with the aliens. Why is the government now broadcasting all over the place their existence and the danger they pose?”

“Read some of the other headlines,” Desjani suggested before biting off a piece of the bar. “These Yanika Babiya ration bars aren’t bad. For ration bars, that is.”

Geary focused back on the news, trying to catch up after resolutely ignoring events for much of the past month. Ruling parties swept from power in special elections called in ninety-two star systems.

The Rift Federation has voted to renegotiate its ties to the Alliance.

Fingal becomes the thirty-sixth star system to demand reduction of its defense commitments and taxes to the Alliance central government.

Black Jack Geary, in comments made on Kosatka, offers only qualified support for the current government. “What? Qualified support? What the hell are they talking about? When that guy asked if I’d follow orders from the government, I said yes, I would.”

Desjani swallowed her bite of ration bar and raised an eyebrow at him. “You said that you’d follow all lawful orders.”

“So?” Geary demanded.

“ ‘Lawful’ is a qualifier. Even a dumb sailor like me knows that.”

“When did saying something that should be a given turn into something subversive?” Geary grumbled.

“When a majority of the population considers the elected government to be corrupt and full of crooks,” Desjani replied. “To many citizens of the Alliance, ‘lawful’ implies sweeping out the criminals.”

“I shouldn’t have answered that guy.”

She shook her head. “And leave the question unanswered? ‘Black Jack Geary refuses to say he supports the government.’ That wouldn’t have produced a better outcome, darling.”

Her use of the endearment calmed him. “Was it only four weeks ago that we got married?”

“Twenty-six days. Even though we won’t be able to act as a married couple aboard my ship, you’re still expected to remember all anniversaries and significant dates, you know.” Desjani coolly took another bite.

“Yes, ma’am.” He liked seeing the annoyed look she usually gave him when he responded like her subordinate, but this time all Tanya did was shake her head at him. Geary eyed her, wondering at how composed she had been since their arrival in Varandal Star System, then finally realizing that Desjani always got calmer when she sensed combat approaching. “Do you expect something to happen when we dock at Ambaru station?”

“I’ve been expecting something since this ship arrived back in this star system, but everything seems quiet so far. No government ships intercepting us to arrest you, no mutinous fleet ships intercepting us to declare you dictator, and no fighting going on between any factions and the government.” She glanced around their compartment, a high-end passenger cabin whose dated but still-luxurious touches had disconcerted both Desjani and Geary since they were used to the fairly Spartan accommodations on warships. But the government in Kosatka had insisted on providing “appropriate” transportation when the orders demanding that Geary immediately return to Varandal were received. At least the charter had prevented having to deal with other passengers on the way back.

Desjani shook her head again, her eyes this time on the outside display. “Maybe it’s my ancestors talking to me. I can sense the tension here, like a star about to go nova, and I don’t like going into action aboard an unarmed ship.”

“It’s not a battle cruiser,” Geary agreed.

“It’s not my battle cruiser,” she corrected him. “I shouldn’t have left Dauntless for so long.”

“I’m sure she’s fine. Dauntless has a good crew.”

“Excuse me?”

“What I meant to say,” Geary quickly added, “is that Dauntless has the best crew in the fleet. As well as an exceptionally good commanding officer.”

“You’re a bit biased when it comes to the commanding officer, but her crew is the best.” Desjani took a long, slow breath. “My point is that the government may not want you near any battle cruiser or any crew, and we don’t know if any of those warships are planning to act independently. Be prepared for anything when we dock.”

“The message from Duellos we got after arrival implied everything is quiet.”

She considered that, then shook her head. “We can’t be sure he really sent it, or that the content wasn’t modified en route to us.”

Geary closed his eyes to block out their comfortable surroundings, trying to get back into a combat mind-set. “Surely they aren’t still considering arresting me as a threat to the government.”

She grinned, her canines showing to give the expression a fierce cast. “They wouldn’t dare try that openly, now. But you could just disappear, and supposedly be on a special assignment. They’ll try something.”

“ ‘They’? Which ‘they’ do you mean?”

“Someone. There are a lot of possibilities. You’re too dangerous.”

He thought about the crowds they had encountered on Kosatka, Desjani’s home world. Often huge and always enthusiastic to the point of worshipful, they had been inescapable and unnerving in equal measure. Entire cities had seemed to pack into the streets for the chance of a glimpse of the great Black Jack Geary, legendary champion of the Alliance, the man who had stayed with his ship to the end, fighting off a surprise attack by the Syndics to allow other ships to escape. Everyone had thought that Geary had died during that fight at Grendel a hundred years ago; but he had been barely alive, frozen in survival sleep in a damaged escape pod. Geary had finally been found not long ago, awakening to find himself among people who had been taught to believe that he was an incomparable hero. Who do they think Black Jack actually is? I certainly don’t know. He’s someone the government dreamed up to inspire everyone when the initial Syndic surprise attacks knocked the Alliance back on its heels. “The next time the government tries to create a hero to motivate and inspire the population, they’ll probably try harder to make sure that hero is really, absolutely, positively dead.”

Desjani gave him one of those looks that could be as unnerving as the crowds. “The government thought it was creating an illusion. The politicians didn’t realize that the living stars had their own plans and that you could not only reappear, but also be in reality more than the official illusion claimed.”

“I thought that was over,” he mumbled, looking away. She had looked at him in exactly the same way when he had first awakened from a century of survival sleep. Belief in him and in what he could do, believing that he was someone sent by the living stars themselves at the behest of everyone’s ancestors to save the Alliance. Usually, now she seemed to see him as a man, and treated him as a husband and an officer; but occasionally her faith that he could be more than that shone through.

She leaned close, reaching to grasp his chin gently and turn his head to face her again. “I see you. I see who you are. Don’t forget that.”

The statement had two possible meanings, but he preferred to believe that it meant she knew he was human and very imperfect. His own ancestors knew that he had given her enough demonstrations of his fallibility since being awakened. “Who does the government see?”

“Good question.” Desjani leaned back, sighing. “In answer to your first question, though, about the aliens, as you can see from the rest of the news, the government is under so much pressure that it’s telling everyone about the aliens to distract them. The war held the Alliance together. The war excused all kinds of things. Now, thanks to you more than anyone else—and don’t try to deny that—we’re at peace, and if war is hell, then peace seems to be like herding cats. I didn’t figure that out myself, by the way. One of the politicians at that last reception on Kosatka told me that. He said that star systems all over the Alliance are rethinking their need for common defense now that the big, bad Syndic wolf at the door has been drop-kicked into the nearest black hole.”

“You talked to a politician?” Like most fleet officers, Desjani had a well-developed dislike of the political leadership, born of a century of inconclusive and bloody warfare and a need to attach blame for the failure to win.

She shrugged. “He’s an old friend of my mother. She vouched for him not being as bad as the others, and since my mother hauled me up to meet him, I couldn’t very well about-face and walk away. The point is, Admiral Geary, that he told me no one really knows how to handle peace. It’s been a hundred years since the war with the Syndicate Worlds started, so the politicians have never experienced an environment without an active threat. The government is falling back on what it knows. It thinks it needs a new threat to keep the Alliance unified. And it’s not like the aliens aren’t a threat. We know they’re willing to attack us. We know that they carried out hostile actions before the Alliance even knew they existed.”

“I wish those weren’t just about the only things we do know about them,” Geary grumbled, turning back to the headlines. Prisoners of war coming home soon, say authorities. Finally, some good news. Many men and women captured in the course of the apparently endless war, people who had never expected to see their homes again, would now be reunited with their loved ones. Bringing home the living would be a welcome job, even if it was tarnished by sad reality. Too many prisoners of war had already died far from their homes, during decades in captivity, their fates unknown. Tallying up the numbers and names of those who had died in Syndic prison camps would take long and cheerless years of investigation. “We’re cruel enough to our own kind. Why do we need hostile aliens to add to our problems?”

“Ask the living stars, darling. I’m just a battle cruiser captain. The answer to your question is way above my pay grade.”

The next headline bore no silver lining.

Reports of internal fighting in many star systems within Syndicate Worlds’ territory as Syndic authority continues to collapse.

“Damn. Whatever is left of the Syndicate Worlds is going to be a small fraction of the region it used to rule.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” Desjani commented.

“Chaos will breed a lot more deaths and trouble for us,” Geary countered, indicating the next headline. Refugees fleeing fighting in former Syndic territory arriving in Alliance star systems.

She shrugged, but he could hear in her voice the tension that Desjani was trying to mask. “They’re Syndics. They started the war, they kept it going, and now they’re paying the price. You don’t actually expect me to feel sorry for them, do you?”

He thought about how many friends and companions Tanya had seen die in the war, including her younger brother. “No. I realize that very few people in the Alliance will shed any tears for the suffering of any Syndics.”

“With good cause,” Desjani muttered.

“I’ve never argued otherwise.”

One corner of her mouth curled upward in a sardonic smile. “You just reminded us that our ancestors and the living stars don’t look kindly on the slaughter of civilians or prisoners. Fine. We stopped killing everyone but combatants. But that doesn’t mean we want to help any Syndics who survived the war.”

“I know.” He still had trouble grasping that: how the long war had poisoned the natural human tendency to offer aid to those in distress, even if those others were former enemies. But then he had slept through the vast majority of that war, not felt it through every day of his life. “What I’m saying is, purely in terms of self-interest, the Alliance may have to help clean up the mess in what was Syndic territory. Something is going to replace Syndic authority in areas that slip from the grasp of the central government. Trying to ensure that those successor governments are representative and peaceful rather than dictatorial and aggressive just seems like smart policy.”

Instead of replying directly, Desjani glanced at his display. “Speaking of messes, how’s our own government doing these days?”

“Not too well, apparently. The next headline says ‘Newly elected Alliance senators demand investigations into wartime corruption.’ ”

“Investigating wartime corruption in the government would keep a lot of people busy for at least a few decades,” she observed.

“As long as I’m not one of them.” Geary read the next headline with growing disbelief. Authoritative accounts reveal that Black Jack demanded and received a free hand from the Alliance grand council for the campaign that ended the war. “That’s not true! I didn’t demand anything. Who the hell leaked that?”

Desjani took a look at the headline. “Somebody who’s unhappy at the way the politicians are all trying to claim credit for the end of the war. Some other politicians angling for advantage. Fleet officers who guessed at the truth and assumed you had to threaten the council. There are plenty of possibilities.”

“No wonder the government still sees me as a threat.”

“You are a threat,” she reminded him. “If you hadn’t convinced Captain Badaya and those like him that you’re actually running the government covertly, making the big decisions behind the scenes, then they would have already staged a coup in your name. Things could be worse.”

He studied the headlines again, trying to read between the lines. “Someone in the government must realize as well as we do what’s holding the fleet back. Overt action against me could still trigger a coup I couldn’t forestall, then civil war as some star systems simply pulled out of the Alliance in response.” It had taken a long time to accept that, the idea that the Alliance could be so frail, but a century of all-out warfare with its immense costs in lives and money had badly frayed the seams of the Alliance.

“That doesn’t mean they won’t still try something,” Desjani observed.

“Could the government be that stupid?”

She smiled scornfully. “Yes.”

Citizens’ coalitions demand that Black Jack be brought to Prime to clean up government, the next headline screamed. Next to a coup by his misguided supporters, Geary thought, that would be his worst nightmare. Why did anyone believe that the ability to command a fleet meant that he could also run a government? He looked at the display showing the distance remaining to Ambaru station and the time remaining until the ship docked, wondering what awaited him and Tanya there.

“What’s the matter?” she asked, her tone softer.

“I was just thinking.”

“You’ve been promoted to admiral again. I’m not sure that much thinking on your part is permitted.”

“Very funny.” His gaze went to the stars again. “Before . . . before the war started, I never worried that much about the future. Most of it was out of my hands. I had serious responsibilities as an officer in the fleet, and at the last as commanding officer of a heavy cruiser, but what we did and where we went was never up to me. Then the war happened, and I ended up in command of the fleet a century later. For months after that, the future was a very narrowly focused thing. We needed to get the fleet from one star to the next, and eventually home. Then we needed to deal with the Syndics and do something to hold off the aliens. The future aimed itself. Do this. Then do that. Figure out how, right now, or there’s no more future.”

Geary paused and looked toward her. Desjani met his eyes, her expression somber but calm. “Now, the future is a huge, vague thing. I have no idea what tomorrow is supposed to hold, what I should do, what I’ll be called upon to do. I know because of everything that’s happened that the future depends a lot upon my own actions and decisions. And I no longer have any idea where those should take us.”

She gave him one of those unnervingly confident looks. “Yes, you do, Black Jack. You have the same ideas you had when you assumed command of the fleet back then. Do the honorable thing, do the right thing, do the smart thing. Even if you’re tempted to do otherwise, you stick to what you believe in, and what you believe in is what our ancestors believed in. That, and you believe that we’re all worth saving. Which is why I know that if anyone can lead us through whatever the future brings, it’s you. And that is why not only I, but a lot of other people, will follow you and give you everything we’ve got.”

“As long as I’ve got you.”

“That future didn’t aim itself,” Desjani said. “You had a lot of options. You chose the hardest one, and the most honorable one, and the right one. That’s why we’re together now.”

“You wouldn’t have—”

“Yes, I would have, and you know that. I would have done it because I thought you needed it, and what you needed to do was far more important than me or my honor. I was wrong. You were right.” She smiled. “Which isn’t to say that you aren’t wrong at times. But I’ll be here to let you know when that happens.”

THEY came out of the access from the passenger ship onto the dock at Ambaru station, side by side, both Geary and Desjani alert for trouble but trying to look relaxed despite their tension.

Two lines of armed ground forces soldiers awaited them, their weapons held in salute position, forming a corridor down which Geary and Desjani walked. Were the soldiers just an honor guard? Or thinly disguised muscle to back up another arrest attempt? This time he didn’t have Marines escorting him to prevent such an overreaction by the government.

At least the soldiers weren’t armored, instead resplendent in dress uniforms. If he was to be arrested, at least his captors would look their best.

On either side of the honor guard, more soldiers held back crowds packed into the walkways between docks, crowds who erupted into cheers at the sight of Geary. That was also a good sign since it seemed unlikely the government would be crazy enough to arrest him publicly. What would happen if the soldiers tried to restrain or arrest him, and he instead walked to the crowds? Would that one action be the loose thread whose unraveling would tear apart the Alliance?

Despite his nerves and discomfort with the adulation, Geary forced himself to smile and wave one hand to the crowds, then saw Admiral Timbale waiting at the end of the ramp and felt some of his tension draining off. Even though he was as political as most senior officers these days, Timbale had seemed both honorable and firmly in Geary’s camp before they left Varandal. Now Timbale saluted Geary and returned Desjani’s salute, giving the gestures the crispness of someone who had recently learned saluting and wanted to show off. “Welcome back, Admiral Geary. It’s nice to meet you in person, Captain Desjani.”

“Thank you, sir,” she replied, her return salute casually correct. Geary had no doubt that Desjani saluted in that fashion to subtly emphasize that, for her, the gesture had been common practice for months. “I’m surprised to see civilians here, sir,” she added, indicating the crowds.

Timbale’s smile hardened. “There weren’t supposed to be any. Your arrival was supposed to be quiet and low-key, to avoid ‘disruptions.’ Or so I was told. But somehow word got out, and once the civilians started crowding through the barriers to see Black Jack, what could we do?” He glanced around. “Standing orders from fleet headquarters came in two weeks ago. We’re to avoid any actions which ‘improperly highlight any individual officer’ and instead direct attention to ‘the achievements of all personnel.’ ”

“I can’t honestly object to that,” Geary commented. “In fact, I think it’s a good idea.”

“It is,” Timbale agreed, his tone becoming sardonic, “but since the brass at fleet headquarters got there by playing up their own roles in every success in every possible way, I find their newfound interest in individual humility by others a bit hard to swallow.” Nodding to the commander of the honor guard, Timbale turned to go. “If you and Captain Desjani will please accompany me?”

Geary followed, wondering if the honor guard would also come along. But the soldiers remained in place, their eyes straying to the sides to catch glimpses of him as he left.

Timbale nodded again as if reading his mind. “Nothing quite so obvious this time,” he muttered to Geary. “Especially with all of those spectators.”

“What is going on?” Geary asked.

“I don’t know exactly.” Timbale frowned as they entered passageways from which other military and civilians had apparently been barred, the path stretching empty before them. Metal and composite bulkheads, which in Geary’s time a hundred years earlier would have been covered by skins showing images of natural materials or outdoor scenes, were instead bare, revealing rough repairs and exposed surfaces, just another sign of the strains so many decades of war had put upon the Alliance and everything built to further the war. “Varandal is not technically in a state of martial law, but in practice it’s very close to that. The government seems to believe that if things are going to explode, Varandal will be the first charge to go off, and I don’t think I have to explain who they think the detonator will be.”

“Yet they’ve kept the fleet concentrated here,” Desjani observed.

“Yes, Captain,” Timbale agreed. “They’re afraid to keep it in one place, and they’re afraid to disperse it and not have it in one place where they can watch it all at once. So they’ve done nothing with it.” He quirked a smile at her. “Forgive my manners. Congratulations to you both. You must have had to move fast to get married in the brief interval when you were both captains and neither of you was in the other’s chain of command. You ticked off fleet headquarters no end, you know.”

“Thank you,” Geary replied, while Desjani just smiled. “It’s nice to know that we accomplished that much. Where are we going?”

“Conference room 1A963D5. I only know for certain who one of the occupants is.” Timbale gave Geary a glance. “Senator Navarro, chair of the grand council.”

“He’s not alone?”

“There are people with him, but I don’t know how many or who they are. The security perimeter is seven layers thick, and every layer is as tight as a sailor coming back from liberty.” Timbale hesitated, then spoke softly. “A lot of people assume that Navarro is here so you can give him orders. I don’t believe that’s the case because I’ve met you and spoken with you before, but I’ve heard plenty of assertions that you’re really pulling the strings.”

Geary was trying to figure out the right response when Desjani answered. “Strategic success may demand tactical deception, Admiral Timbale. Many officers are pleased to believe that the government is doing as Admiral Geary says.”

Admiral Timbale nodded. “Whereas they’d be unhappy if he wasn’t. I understand. But we’re balancing on a knife-edge here. Fleet headquarters keeps issuing draconian commands apparently designed purely to show that they’re in charge. The fleet is obeying, but they’re increasingly unhappy with the arbitrary and sometimes pointless demands.”

“I’ve heard from some of the warship commanders already,” Geary commented. “No one knows what’s going on. They just keep orbiting here.”

“I don’t know any more than anyone else, but the fact that the chair of the grand council is here makes it seem to me like they’ve been waiting for you to get back so they can tell you to do something.” Timbale frowned, uncertainty plain to read in him. “And they do intend to task the fleet with some mission. Even though funding is being cut all over the place, I’ve been directed to ensure that repairs continue here for all damaged warships. Given how much those repairs are costing, those orders must have come through the government as well as fleet headquarters. Keep them here, get them fixed. Those have been my orders.”

“Have you had the chance to talk to any fleet officers about what’s going on?” Geary asked.

“Yes, but most of them assume that you ordered the repairs to continue for reasons of your own. No one else seems to have any clues, which is very unusual. You know how hard it is to keep things secret.”

Desjani shook her head. “How can you properly prepare the fleet for a mission without knowing what the mission is?”

“Damned if I know.” Timbale let his unhappiness show. “The government stopped totally trusting the military decades ago, but it’s still annoying to be treated as though they don’t trust us. I’ve been told nothing of substance, just things like the orders for today, under the seal of the grand council regarding security arrangements. I also haven’t been invited to this meeting, Admiral Geary. I was told it was for you alone.”

Desjani kept her expression professionally unrevealing, but Geary could tell she wasn’t happy with that. Nor was he, until he considered having both of them firmly within seven layers of very tight security. “To tell you the truth,” Geary said to Timbale, “I think it might be good to know that you and Captain Desjani are outside the meeting, in communication with everyone else, and able to act or react as appropriate.”

This time, Timbale smiled tightly. “There are some parties who wouldn’t listen to me but will accept anything they’re told by the captain. It’s a given that she speaks for you.”

Geary caught the flash of melancholy in her eyes at that praise, but Tanya simply nodded. “I will keep an eye on things while you’re in the meeting, Admiral,” she said.

“You don’t have to be formal with your husband among just us,” Timbale advised her.

“Yes, sir, I do,” Desjani told him. “When in any professional context, he is Admiral Geary, and I am Captain Desjani. We’re both agreed on that.”

They turned a corner and at the other end of that corridor saw what must be the first layer of security, a checkpoint occupied by an entire squad of soldiers. “How many of these are there?” Geary asked Timbale.

“Enough soldiers and checkpoints spread through this sector of the station to occupy an entire ground forces brigade,” Timbale said. “No money for a lot of other things but plenty of money for obsessive security. Every way in and out, and I mean every way, has more than one checkpoint securing it. No communications in or out, either. Totally secure and totally isolated. Once you get past a couple of those checkpoints, you won’t be able to send or receive messages.”

Geary’s comm link beeped urgently. “I guess we’re lucky that whatever this is got here now.” He gave it a look, saw who the message was from, and called it up while still walking. As he read, he came to an abrupt halt, causing Timbale and Desjani to stumble to a stop as well and stare at him with mingled curiosity and worry. “What’s happened?” Desjani asked.

“Nothing yet. But—” Geary choked off his words, fury building inside him as he tried to stay calm. “Captain Duellos informs me that the fleet has just received notification of courts-martial charges being filed against a large number of commanding officers. He’s forwarded the message to me.”

If Timbale was feigning surprise and disbelief, he was doing a good job of it. “What? I haven’t seen—May I, Admiral?”

Geary offered his unit, and Timbale read rapidly. “Unbelievable. Over a hundred of the current commanding officers. The charges are technically justified, but what kind of idiot . . .” His jaw tightened. “Actually, I can think of several idiots who might be responsible. A few of them are assigned to fleet headquarters at the moment. I told you that headquarters was trying to assert their control, but I didn’t think they’d do something this stupid.”

“I see that I am also under charges,” Desjani said, her voice again deadly calm. “They want to gut the fleet’s command structure, Admiral.”

Timbale waved his free hand at the comm unit. “Every one of those commanding officers would have to be at least temporarily relieved of command! While we’re still trying to get the fleet repaired, refitted, and resupplied! It’ll cause total chaos!” He made a motion as if to throw the comm unit in frustration, then remembered that it was Geary’s and handed it back. “It’s a good thing you got here just before this broke. If it had been received earlier, all hell would have broken loose. You’re the only one who can stop a very serious overreaction by the fleet.”

But Desjani had adopted her combat-cool attitude again, her eyes fixed on Geary’s own. “It might be that you’re wrong, Admiral Timbale. Not about the fleet’s reaction, but about when this message was supposed to be received. Is it possible that somebody jumped the gun? Perhaps it was intended for this to be received by the fleet while Admiral Geary was already inside with representatives of the government and thus unable to learn of it in time to do anything about it while facing the government representatives, or to keep the fleet from immediately overreacting when the fleet heard of it.”

“Is that the intention?” Geary asked from between clenched teeth. “Making the fleet overreact? My first thought was that this is directly aimed at me, because most of these officers could be seen as loyal to me, but . . .”

Admiral Timbale took a moment to calm himself, then shook his head. “Maybe. Maybe. But with you out of communications, we also wouldn’t have been able to tell the fleet what you were doing, what your status was. If anyone wanted to assume that you’d been seized by the government—”

“That’s too big,” Desjani said. “You’re right, Admiral Timbale. It could far too easily happen, but I can’t believe anyone would be stupid enough to want it to happen.”

“As opposed,” Geary said, “to being stupid enough to cause it unintentionally?”

Timbale nodded quickly. “Yes. That would fit with the other things that fleet headquarters has been doing. ‘We’re in charge!’ They probably got some reports back of the fleet’s attitudes toward their earlier dictates and are escalating with this.”

“Probably not the government, then?” Navarro had not struck Geary as the type, or as foolish enough to push such an action, but then, Geary wasn’t a politician.

“No.” Timbale looked down the passageway toward the checkpoint, where the soldiers were all pretending to be paying no attention to the obviously agitated cluster of high-ranking officers. “Where’s the advantage to the government? They’re worried about revolt, and this is just the sort of thing to trigger it. I don’t have a very high opinion of the intelligence of politicians, but even I know how good they are at self-interest and survival. I don’t see any self-interest or survival upside for the government in pushing this now in this manner. And he’s also inside the conference room waiting for you and out of communications, so he, too, wouldn’t know about this matter until your meeting was over.”

Desjani’s eyes narrowed. “That would give him deniability.”

“When he’s in charge of the government? Claiming he didn’t know what was going on wouldn’t help him at all. It would make him look worse. Assuming that the fleet didn’t blow the station open and kill him.”

“Being a martyr might help his reelection prospects,” Desjani suggested dryly. “Even I might be inclined to vote for a dead politician.”

“Dead heroes don’t always stay dead,” Timbale said, inclining his head toward Geary.

“So what do we do?” Desjani looked at Geary, as did Timbale.

That hadn’t changed, either. He didn’t even have any command assigned at the moment, but everyone was still looking to him for what to do. “We’re agreed that the bottom line is that the fleet will go ballistic. The order is from fleet headquarters. The only way to get it canceled is to go over fleet headquarters, to the government. I need to go on to this meeting. That’s the best way, and probably the only way, to get this matter resolved fast.”

“Sir,” Desjani said, “the blowup in the fleet has probably already started.”

“I know.” He brought up his comm unit, scowling as he saw the nolink icon. “Why can’t I send a message? I got that one a minute ago.”

Timbale grimaced. “It’s the station. We’ve got so many passageways, conduits, and compartments that act as reflectors, channels, and traps that it makes the perimeter of the security zone fluctuate. There’s no telling how far back you’ll have to go to get a link again.”

“We don’t have time for that.” He pushed record and spoke with care. “All warships in Varandal Star System, this is Admiral Geary. I have just been apprised of the communication regarding charges against many fleet officers. I am in the process of dealing with it. All units are to hold in assigned orbits and to refrain from any unauthorized actions. To the honor of our ancestors, Geary, out.”

He handed the comm unit to Desjani. “I need you to start putting out this fire now. Get outside the security block and transmit that, then keep anyone from doing anything stupid.”

“I’m not one of the living stars,” Desjani complained as she took the comm unit. “And even they can’t stop stupid.”

“If you tell everyone that I just found out and am dealing with it, they’ll believe you. They’ll listen to you.”

Her eyes locked on his. “In what capacity am I acting? According to this message, I should immediately surrender command of Dauntless .”

“You are commanding officer of Dauntless until you hear otherwise from me.” It wasn’t proper. It wasn’t by the book. He had no authority to tell her that except for his superior rank. But Black Jack Geary could get away with doing it. If he didn’t disregard the book at that moment, then the mess facing them would spiral into a destructive reentry very quickly. “Admiral Timbale, I would appreciate your assistance to Captain Desjani in this matter. I don’t know how much influence she’ll have over nonfleet military in this star system.”

“Probably more than you think,” Timbale suggested. “Everyone knows your . . . relationship. But it will take both of us to try to keep a lid on this. If I read attitudes in the fleet correctly, they’ll be certain these charges are just the first salvo, and your arrest will be right behind it. Too many warships will want to start peeling this station open like an onion until they get you out. And if that happens, somebody else will surely shoot back.”

“Maybe I should go back with you,” Geary said. “Postpone the meeting and—”

“Then the government might well assume that you’re behind the fleet’s sudden aggressive movements! There’s no guarantee that the fleet will immediately accept messages from you as being legitimate, unforced, and unaltered.”

All he could do was look to the one person who had never failed him. “Tanya.”

Desjani held up both hands. “All right. I’m on it, Admiral. I’m not Black Jack Geary, but I’ll do my best.” Another one of those sayings common in the fleet that made Geary wince when he heard them, but in this case all too literally true. She stepped back and saluted.

He returned the salute, thinking of all the things that could go wrong, of all the Alliance military units and warships in that star system suddenly erupting into a burst of fratricidal warfare, and of the number of people who would surely die if that happened. Possibly including Tanya. The Alliance itself might well die as a result, spinning apart with less bedlam than the Syndicate Worlds but with the same apparently unstoppable momentum. “Good luck, Tanya.”

“Don’t worry about me. I’m a bad-ass battle cruiser captain. You’re the one who has to keep the politicians and fleet headquarters from screwing up the universe. If anyone can stop them, it’s you.”

“Thanks. I appreciate the lack of pressure.”

“Don’t mention it. And don’t take too long in that meeting, or there won’t be much left of this star system.”

TWO

IT was easy to forget how much you depended on being able to get information quickly. Easy until you were inside a security perimeter that jammed all signals to ensure that no information leaked out and cut off connections to interior databases and displays. Now, with the fleet certainly in turmoil, he had no idea what was happening and how successful Tanya was being at keeping the situation under control. Not that he doubted her abilities, but anyone with common sense knew that there were always some factors beyond the ability of any human to direct.

He wanted to get to the meeting now and get things under control now, but the damned station was too big, every passageway too long, every checkpoint too slow to pass him through. With every step, Geary feared feeling the shudder of explosions being transmitted through the structure of the station as open combat erupted. He had felt the impacts of weaponry on ships. The hammerblows of missiles striking home, the trembling as hell-lance particle beams tore through metal and everything else in their path, the brutal hail of grapeshot pounding a hull in staccato rhythms. Would those things feel different on something as massive as this space station? How deeply would a hell lance penetrate into the structure if fired from close in?

Oddly enough, wondering about those things and trying to figure out answers from his experience served as a calming distraction. Trying to anticipate the effects of combat damage was comfortingly familiar, whereas confronting politicians with unknown agendas remained something Geary found uncomfortable and foreign. I’d rather be shot at than deal with politicians. And the strange thing is that every sailor in the fleet would understand that and agree.

The soldiers he encountered at different checkpoints were drawn from a variety of units and organizations. He had experienced very little interaction with ground forces since being awakened from survival sleep, and all of that limited contact had been in the last couple of weeks. Now he studied these men and women, trying to evaluate their capabilities, their feelings, and their effectiveness. The fleet and even the notoriously tradition-bound Marines had been changed by the very long and very bloody war. How deeply had the ground forces fallen into the fleet’s regression to charging straight at the enemy without regard for odds, tactics, or maneuvering? Had the ground forces also fallen back on rigid definitions of honor and an emphasis on blind courage to replace the skills of leaders who rarely survived long enough to become veterans?

All of the soldiers were stiffly professional with him, doubtless fearing that they were somehow being monitored by more than one superior officer; but most still looked at Geary in a way that revealed their feelings, no different from those of the civilian crowds even if much more disciplined and concealed.

Geary passed through checkpoint after checkpoint, everything remaining quiet as far as he could tell, though buried inside the station he could discern very little. The absence of anyone else at some points in the passageways between checkpoints felt eerie, like being in a derelict facility in a meager star system bypassed by the hypernet and now abandoned by its few human inhabitants. After weeks of trying to avoid crowds, he found himself wishing for at least a few other people within line of sight.

Finally, six more checkpoints beyond the first, Geary found himself being led toward a conference room remarkable only for the symbols by its open door that revealed it to be a high-security, sealed compartment guaranteed to be as impervious to outside surveillance as any room could be. “How tight is this conference room?” he asked the Alliance special forces commandos forming the last layer of security, wondering how much security technology might have advanced but also recalling the many times that Victoria Rione had demonstrated the ability to get through security barriers with the right equipment and software.

The major in command looked momentarily stunned at being personally addressed by Geary, then recovered. “Completely tight, Admiral Geary. According to specifications on these systems, even the environmental systems are self-contained. Once the hatch is sealed, you are as totally isolated from the outside universe as human engineering can manage. Nothing comes in or out. There are even quantum-level jammers that were very recently installed though no one can actually conduct surveillance at that level yet.”

No one human could, anyway. The politicians had, so far at least. kept secret the aliens’ ability to use quantum worms in human operating systems. “Impressive,” Geary said. “How does the room handle trapped heat from people and equipment if it’s that tightly sealed off?”

The major looked to a lieutenant, who looked to a sergeant, who replied in the brisk tones of a senior enlisted telling officers things they should already know. “There is no way to bleed off trapped heat, sir. It builds up and creates a serious problem within half an hour given three or more occupants using personal electronics.”

“Will that be a problem, Admiral?” the major asked.

“Not at all,” Geary said. “I need to get things done fast right now, and in general, I like the idea of a conference room that becomes uninhabitable after half an hour.”

The major hesitated as if not certain what he was allowed to say, then grinned. “I’ve wished for that more than once myself, Admiral.”

The commandos assumed sentry positions as Geary rapped on the hatch, opened it, and walked into the room.

His eyes went first to the familiar face of Senator Navarro, who was rising from his chair to greet Geary. Beside him stood another male politician from the grand council, the enigmatic Senator Sakai, who had accompanied the fleet on the campaign that had ended the war. But he had done so as a representative of those members of the grand council who trusted Geary the least. How much had the experience convinced Sakai that Geary was no threat to the Alliance? On the other side of the room sat Senator Suva, a thin woman whom Geary also remembered being on the council, and who had demonstrated as little trust in the military as the military itself had in politicians.

Three senators. No military besides him. The room was even smaller than the conference room on Dauntless, but with its security requirements must lack any virtual conference capability that would allow many more people to attend. To one side, a display showed the star system and all of the military units within it; but the display was static, clearly not receiving any inputs to keep it constantly updating. Geary saluted, trying to keep from exploding with impatience. “Senator Navarro, I—”

Navarro smiled politely as he broke in smoothly. “Welcome back, Admiral. There are—”

“Senator,” Geary interrupted, “something critical has come up.” He saw the wariness that immediately sprang into Navarro’s eyes, the way he tensed at Geary’s words. He could almost hear Navarro’s thoughts. He’s doing it. He’s taking over. “I don’t wish to be abrupt, sir, but it is extremely critical, so I request that we discuss it before anything else.”

Sakai answered him, his voice and face revealing little of his feelings. “What is so critical, Admiral?”

“A message was received by the fleet as I was on my way to this meeting. The message states that more than a hundred commanding officers of fleet warships are being court-martialed. They’re supposed to be immediately relieved of command pending resolution of the charges.”

Like Timbale, all three senators appeared stunned, though there was no way of knowing how much of that was feigned in the case of each politician. Navarro shook his head in bafflement, but his voice stayed guarded. “What are the charges? What are these officers accused of?”

Suva spoke up, her own suspicions clear. “Are these officers being court-martialed for actions or plans against lawful authority?”

“No, Madam Senator,” Geary said. “They are not accused of any actions against the government. The charges are that they allowed their ships to get far too low on fuel reserves,” Geary continued with what he considered remarkable control.

“Low fuel reserves?” Navarro asked after a long moment, as if wondering whether Geary was telling a strange joke. “You’re serious? I remember being told that the fleet was very low on fuel when it reached Varandal. Some of the ships actually ran out during the battle here, didn’t they?”

“Yes, sir. We were extremely low on fuel as a result of the long journey from the Syndic home star system and the battles we had to fight along the way.”

“Of course.” But Navarro didn’t convey understanding. “But you won the battle. You got all of those ships back here. What was the crime?”

“Letting fuel cell reserves get too low is a violation of operating regulations,” Geary said. “A ship that is too low on fuel might be caught unable to fight well, or be unable to respond to orders to proceed to battle. Commanding officers are required to ensure that their reserves don’t get too low. The lower the fuel state, the more serious the violation.”

“But . . . if you had come all that way and fought all those battles . . . successfully fought them . . . and arrived here in time to defeat the Syndicate Worlds’ attack at Varandal . . .”

“Sir, the charges pertain to a purely technical violation of regulations, disregarding actual operational circumstances.”

Senator Sakai nodded, his eyes hooded. “But it was a violation of regulations, you say.”

“Yes, sir.”

Navarro frowned down at the table’s surface. “It seems ridiculous, but that means the military will reach the same conclusion after the court-martial proceedings have run their course. It’s unfortunate, but not something we should intervene in.”

Somehow he had expected the civilians to understand, to realize both how brainless were the charges and how serious the consequences of bringing them would be. Geary paused to reorder his thoughts, then spoke with great care. “Senator, every one of these officers has performed valiantly and loyally in the defense of the Alliance. They are now being relieved of command and ordered to submit to courts-martial on technical violations of regulations that were beyond their ability to prevent. It is an extreme and unwarranted insult to the honor of every one of them.”

Senator Suva spoke, her voice as carefully modulated as Geary’s. “Who brought these charges, Admiral?”

“Fleet headquarters, Madam Senator.”

“Then it was the fleet’s own superiors who initiated these charges. If what you tell us is true, then those superiors doubtless felt obligated to bring charges because of their own responsibilities. They understand the importance of abiding by regulations, rules, and laws.”

The underlying implication was clear enough, a jab at Geary as if questioning his own understanding of that issue. “A good leader also understands when the letter of law, regulation, or rule will lead to unjust and improper outcomes. An automated system could govern us if all it took was abiding strictly by written rules.”

Sakai watched Geary intently. “You are criticizing the judgment of your superiors?”

Geary stared back at the senator for a moment. It was the sort of loaded question that usually only left the options of a sunk career or a hasty retreat. But what the hell can they do to me if I answer honestly? The worst they can do is to send me to duty on a ship far from home, feed me lousy food, and make me work twenty hours a day when I’m not getting shot at by people who want to kill me. “Yes, sir, I am saying that whoever approved bringing these charges suffered from a serious lapse in judgment.”

The three senators exchanged looks, then Navarro sighed. “Admiral, I realize that this may offend your sense of justice, but we cannot interfere with the process, especially since you are so certain that the military justice outcome will exonerate your officers.”

“Perhaps I haven’t been clear as to what will happen as a result of this.” Geary was surprised by how calm his voice sounded. “The least consequence would be serious disruption of the fleet as so many commanding officers are relieved all at once. But that will not happen, because the fleet will regard this as a move by the government against the fleet, against officers who have thus far sacrificed and fought loyally and well for the Alliance. I, and other officers, believe that they will not simply accept such an action but will regard it as a breaking of faith and an attack on the fleet by its own government.”

Suva stared at him. “You are predicting that the fleet will mutiny.”

“I regard it as highly probable,” Geary said, the words feeling heavy as they left him.

“By your orders? You’re not trying to stop this?”

It was Geary’s turn to stare in disbelief. “I have never ordered anyone to act against the elected government of the Alliance, and I never will. As for trying to stop it, what do you think I’m doing now? Before I entered this meeting, I sent two other officers with orders to communicate to the fleet that it should do nothing.”

“Then there shouldn’t be a problem,” Navarro said.

“I have no confidence that the fleet will accept those orders, Senator!” Why couldn’t they understand? “I know that you’re aware of sentiments in the fleet. You must be able to see that something like this crosses the line, will make too many officers believe that now they must do something. Yes, every man and woman court-martialed on those charges should be exonerated, but very few of them will trust that the right and proper outcome will occur. They will regard these charges as attempts to smear their honor beyond redemption before they are handed over to kangaroo courts!”

“But you’re asking us to circumvent both military authority and the military justice system? How is that supposed to build respect for authority and the law?”

Suva chimed in again, her voice cold. “How is having the government give in to demands from military officers a means to prevent the military from controlling the government? Are you proposing that we win by surrendering?”

Sakai shook his head. “It is a legitimate question, but Admiral Geary’s honor should not be questioned.”

“I agree,” Navarro said. “In light of what Admiral Geary has done, and what he has not done, it would be improper to doubt his word. But . . . this matter is not one in which we can take action. Your military superiors have made their decisions, our intervention in the military justice process at this point would be improper, and you will obey orders as honor demands.” Despite his calm tone, Geary thought he could sense an undercurrent of tension, of fear, in the senator. “You, Admiral, will tell the fleet’s officers to also obey orders and to trust in the integrity of the system. That course of action is the only salvation for the Alliance in the long run.”

Navarro’s words were true, but . . . they ignored the short-term danger. Geary knew this decision was wrong. He knew that if the senators did not act, disaster was a certainty. But they would not act on their own.

For months, he had feared reaching this point, ever since Rione had convinced him that he had the power to defy the civilian leadership of the Alliance. Why would he ever consider such a thing? Such defiance had been unthinkable to him a century ago, but now he could see every alternative flaming out, see that precipice of defiance approaching, had no idea what lay at the bottom, and could no more alter his course than could a ship trapped too deeply within the gravity well of a dead star.

Where did honor lie? What would be best for the people who trusted him and for the Alliance? “Sir, I must once again emphasize in the strongest possible terms that the fleet will not simply accept this kind of action.”

“They will if Admiral Geary tells them to.”

“I do not have confidence that is the case, sir, nor do I feel comfortable endorsing such actions.”

“Nonetheless,” Navarro insisted, “you have your orders and will obey them.” Outwardly, he seemed irritated by Geary’s persistence. Yet the subliminal signs of nervousness were more obvious as the senator spoke with apparent resolve. “We cannot violate your fleet regulations or the rule of law in the name of justice.”

It sounded right and reasonable, but it also ignored reality. In this case, the rule of law was being used for injustice. But, technically, that didn’t excuse him from his own obligation to do as ordered.

Geary took a slow count inside to steady himself. “Can we get an update of events outside this room, sir? Are any inputs allowed?” He knew what the answer was supposed to be but had already learned how many things that weren’t supposed to be had a way of being so.

Navarro frowned, looking toward Sakai, then Suva. “We don’t have . . . Can we manage a brief one-way feed?”

“A microburst of incoming information will still be entirely too hazardous,” Suva replied. She had been looking at Geary with an increasingly unyielding expression. “I don’t know what the purpose of that would be, in any case.”

“I think it’s important for us to know what the fleet is doing as we speak,” Geary replied. “Despite my orders to them to remain in position.”

Sakai spoke. “I believe this would be wise. My experience with Admiral Geary is that if he says we should know this, we should listen.”

“Black Jack—” Suva began.

“Is not a god and knows he is not a god,” Sakai broke in. “He knows there are limitations on his abilities. We should not assume that what he wants is inevitable.”

Navarro stared at Geary, then at Sakai, some unspoken message passing between the two senators in that gaze. “All right. Get us an update and a download of recent transmissions,” Senator Navarro said to Suva, who glowered at her data unit as she rapidly tapped in some commands.

The display flickered as the data on it updated and a string of high-priority message headers appeared to one side, then everything froze again as the security barriers locked back down. Everyone’s eyes went to the display, where the neat arrays of warships locked into fixed orbits had been disordered, scores of vessels frozen in the act of maneuvering off station, their course vectors aimed at Ambaru station. Not just cruisers and destroyers, but the fast menace of battle cruisers and the ponderous threat of battleships moving toward Ambaru.

Geary could see the identifiers for the ships accelerating toward the station. Illustrious. Naturally, Captain Badaya would be the loosest of cannons in this situation. But Geary hadn’t expected Captain Parr on Incredible to be moving in Badaya’s wake, and Implacable was vectoring to join them, along with Intemperate. The new Invincible had also left position, as if choosing to unite with Illustrious and Incredible, the other two battle cruisers in her division, but Invincible had barely accelerated, as if trying to satisfy orders to remain on station and also go with the other ships at the same time, which meant that Invincible actually seemed to be doing neither.

The real shock was seeing the battleship Dreadnaught on the move. Why had his own grandniece disobeyed orders to stay on station? Jane Geary had impressed him as both solid and imaginative enough to be a reliable commander, but not only her battleship but also Dependable and Conqueror were in motion. That in turn seemed to have convinced Gallant, Indomitable, Glorious, and Magnificent to get under way. Seven massive battleships, any one of which could reduce Ambaru station to junk in a very short time.

Everywhere, heavy cruisers, light cruisers, and destroyers were also surging into action singly and by divisions and squadrons.

Against those were the ships standing fast. First and foremost Dauntless herself, with Daring and Victorious. Captain Tulev’s battle cruiser division, of course, with Leviathan, Dragon, Steadfast, and Valiant . Captain Duellos holding firm with Inspire, Brilliant, and Formidable . There was little surprise that Captain Armus on Colossus had stayed on station. Armus was too slow-moving to leap into any new situation, which could be a problem at times but was a blessing in this instance as the example of Colossus and the rest of Armus’s division seemed to be helping restrain a lot of other battleships and escorts.

Perhaps most surprisingly, the seemingly jinxed Orion, which in the past could always be counted upon to do the opposite of what was demanded, had held station just as Geary had ordered.

Elsewhere, on planets, moons, and orbital installations, including Ambaru itself, system defense forces were springing to higher alert levels and activating shields and weaponry. None had yet targeted any of the fleet’s warships, though.

Not as bad as it could be, but pretty damned horrible. If one shot was fired, by anyone, it could set off civil war.

Navarro had frozen momentarily as he stared at the display but finally jerked back into motion, touching one of the messages.

An image of Tanya appeared. “All units are to hold position by order of Admiral Geary. All ships are to immediately return to their assigned orbital locations. You have all received Admiral Geary’s order. Cease unauthorized actions and return to station now.” Desjani was radiating all of the command authority she possessed. Which in Tanya’s case was considerable. But it clearly wasn’t enough.

His expression grim, Navarro touched a later message. Admiral Timbale, speaking quickly. “Stand down. All military forces within Varandal Star System are to stand down immediately. Halt all unauthorized movement. No one is to fire under any circumstances. I repeat, stand down now. Weapons are code red status null. No firing is authorized.”

“Why aren’t we seeing any messages from the warships?” Suva demanded.

Sakai answered. “Because they are most certainly using back doors within the command and control system to communicate. Those messages will not appear in official records. Is this not so, Admiral?” He had been with the fleet on its last voyage and had doubtless learned that firsthand.

Geary nodded, not bothering to try to hide his worries. “You can see that we’re trying to keep things under control—”

“Under control?” Suva glared at him. “That other admiral told the defense forces here not to fire!”

“That’s because a lot of people are still on the fence,” Geary insisted. “Once someone starts shooting, it will force people to take sides. Under that kind of pressure, too many people will reflexively take the side of the comrades they’ve fought beside. We saw that in the Syndic home star system when rebellion broke out there. Don’t you understand? This situation is degenerating fast. Not acting is not an option.” He pointed to the display. “I can’t control this!”

“We can’t surrender to a coup before it even begins!” Suva almost shouted back at him.

“Follow orders, Admiral,” Navarro urged, open desperation tingeing his voice. “Senator Suva is right. Giving in to this kind of pressure would amount to a coup in and of itself. No one in the fleet is going to act against the commands of Black Jack Geary. Tell them to stop and obey all orders.”

Despite all of his efforts, the precipice was there, right at his feet. Like whoever had brought the charges against his officers, the politicians were technically in the right. He didn’t have legal grounds for doing anything other than saluting, saying, “yes, sir,” and doing his damnedest despite his certainty of disaster. Doing otherwise would betray his oath, and he was the only person who had the tiniest chance of succeeding. But simply following orders would betray those who had followed him in battle, and too many officers would assume he had either been forced to say they should obey or that he had sold them out. Given the likely consequences in the fleet, obeying orders could well be the final nail in the coffin of the Alliance.

He had only one weapon left to use, one last means of trying to rein in a situation already almost too far gone. Geary hesitated, fear and uncertainty blossoming inside, then felt a strange calm descend upon him. It was as if something spoke to him with an authority far beyond that of any living thing. This is the only path that offers a chance. He took a deep breath. “No, sir.” It came out firmly but not too loudly.

The three senators stopped moving, not even an eye blinking. “What is it you don’t understand, Admiral?” Navarro asked.

“I do understand, sir. But I will not obey those orders, sir. I hereby tender my resignation from the fleet.”

THREE

THE silence in the room was so absolute that Geary realized everyone must have even stopped breathing for a moment. Absurd as it was under the circumstances, he couldn’t help wondering how that would affect the comfort level in the sealed conference room over time.

He hadn’t known what to expect but was still surprised when Senator Navarro just looked over to Sakai, then back over to Suva, as if once again wordlessly conveying something that had already been understood.

Finally, looking at Geary again, Navarro clasped his hands before him on the table as he spoke. “Just to be clear, are you formally declaring an intent to no longer follow orders from the government?”

Geary wondered whether or not recording devices on the senators were working right now, ready to catch his confession to treason. “No, sir. That is not an option for me. But I can and will declare my resignation from the fleet, effective immediately, which means I will not be subject to orders.”

“But,” Sakai said, shaking his head, “as an officer, you serve at the pleasure of the government. The government need not accept your resignation. If what you say about the fleet’s reaction to that message is true, then the Alliance needs you to help deal with this problem.”

“If the Alliance government wants to deal with this problem, then the Alliance government can take the necessary action,” Geary said. “I’ve told you what that action is, in my best judgment. I will not be a party to an unjust and dishonorable process.”

“Even if your resignation is refused?”

“Even if my resignation is refused. The fleet may then court-martial me.”

Navarro once again surprised him, sitting back and giving Geary a stern look. “You know as well we do what would happen if the government brought charges against you. The fleet be damned, the government would collapse under popular pressure. Don’t pretend that you don’t realize how much power you can wield here.”

“If you know that I have that much power, and surely you have some idea how little I wish to use it, why won’t you listen to me?” Geary said.

“Because we can’t ignore the law! We’re already under immense pressure, and more investigations are being launched every day! Any violation, any favoritism, would be used against us, and to be perfectly honest with you, Admiral, I do believe that having the government fall apart would destroy the Alliance just as surely as would a revolt by the fleet! What would you have us do?”

“Find a way, sir. That’s the job of a leader, isn’t it?”

Senator Navarro sighed and closed his eyes for a moment, raising one hand to cover them. “We need . . .”

Whatever he had meant to add, if anything, was forestalled as Senator Suva, her eyes betraying calculation and assessment, spoke in an unemotional tone, surprising Geary with her words. “Admiral, you said that these charges should not have been brought, and even if they were brought properly, the implications for the impact on the fleet were not taken into account?”

“Yes, Madam Senator.”

“Do we regard Admiral Geary as authoritative in these matters?” Suva asked the other two senators in a way that sounded rhetorical rather than like an actual question. “Yes? Then we must conclude that we have strong evidence that the process for bringing these charges was not properly followed. Certainly, any measures with such extreme consequences for the defense of the Alliance should have been coordinated with the Alliance Senate in its role as supreme authority on military issues before action was taken.”

Navarro dropped his hand and gave Suva a sharp look. “The charges were brought using a flawed process.”

“We have grounds for believing so.” She didn’t actually sound like she believed it, but Geary said nothing, wondering what the politicians were up to.

“Then we have an obligation to revisit and reexamine the process,” Navarro concluded. “We must ensure that no mistakes were made and all necessary factors were considered. Charges this serious should not be brought in error.” He turned a hard look on Geary. “We can, we should, cancel these charges while the decisions and process involved in bringing them are thoroughly reviewed.”

Geary hesitated. “If they reappear at a later date—”

“That’s not going to happen though you won’t get that in writing.”

Sakai spoke in a musing tone. “But, if these officers received commendations from the government for their actions, specifically citing their success in bringing their ships home despite seriously low levels of fuel brought on by circumstances beyond their control, it would eliminate any grounds for prosecuting them for the same actions.”

“Yes.” Navarro smiled. “That will be done, Admiral Geary. I swear it on the honor of my ancestors.”

Suva, her expression still oddly neutral, gestured to Geary. “Record a message, Admiral. Tell the fleet the charges are being dropped right now. We can burst transmit it out of here and calm things down.”

He quickly composed something, hoping it would be what Desjani and Timbale needed to keep things under control. “This is Admiral Geary. The government has agreed that the charges against fleet officers were brought in error. They will be withdrawn. I am still in consultations with the government and unable to conduct routine communications but expect everyone to follow standing orders and my directions as relayed through Captain Desjani. Any ship that has left its assigned orbital station is directed to return to station immediately. All ships are to refrain from any actions contrary to standing orders, rules, and regulations. To the honor of our ancestors, Geary, out.”

Suva tapped her controls to drop the security barriers for the tiny fraction of a second needed for a burst form of the message to be sent out.

That should be enough to calm things, but he wouldn’t know for certain until he left the meeting. He also couldn’t help wondering what might lie beneath the apparently solid assurances that he had just received. The grand council had made assurances to him before and lived up to them to the letter, all the while planning to circumvent their intent. Why had the senators caved so quickly after resisting so long? And why had Suva suddenly come up with a rationale that allowed the government to intervene in the matter after seeming so resistant to that?

“Now,” Navarro said briskly, “if we can get to the reason for this meeting—”

“Senator,” Sakai interrupted, “we have one more matter that must be resolved. Earlier, Admiral Geary formally tendered his resignation from the fleet.”

“Oh. Yes. Is that withdrawn, Admiral?”

Geary let out a long, slow breath. “Yes, sir. I hereby withdraw my resignation.”

“Good.” Navarro spent a moment looking silently across the small room. “Unfortunately, a barrier has been breached. Your ability to pressure the government is out in the open now, at least between us. I hope in the future we can count on your loyalty to the Alliance and your sense of honor to ensure that nothing like this happens again.”

“I didn’t choose to have it happen this time, sir,” Geary said, hearing the stiffness in his own voice. He felt guilty, knew he should feel guilty, yet also resented it.

“Of course not.” Navarro tapped some controls, and the display changed to show an area of space newly familiar to Geary. “We have a very important mission for you, Admiral. We have a problem on the far side of Syndic space, a problem you discovered. Senator Sakai has taken pains to assure us that your actions in dealing with the alien race were appropriate, but we have no means of knowing how decisive they may have been in the deliberations of these aliens. We know almost nothing about them, and that has to change.”

All Geary could do was nod in agreement.

“You’re going to find out more about these aliens, Admiral.” Navarro gestured to the display. “Your orders are to go back there, only this time you’re not to halt at the border the Syndics have maintained with the aliens. You are to enter the regions claimed by the aliens. And since we know what has happened to many Syndic ships at the hands of the aliens, you’re going to have a strong force with you.

“You are to assume command of the newly organized Alliance First Fleet,” Navarro continued, now clearly reading from words projected before him. “Following your assumption of command, you are to plan and execute with all due speed a full-force expedition to explore and investigate the alien race that was recently proven to occupy star systems on the far side of Syndicate Worlds’ space. You are to take every needed measure to discover the strength, capabilities, and characteristics of the alien race, while also taking every reasonable precaution to avoid hostilities to the maximum extent possible. It is critically important to determine the extent of the region occupied by the aliens, so you are to identify the parameters of that region. You are to establish meaningful communications with the aliens, while respecting whatever customs or characteristics have led them to be so secretive, and, if at all feasible, negotiate agreements to prevent further hostilities while also taking care not to compromise our ability to take any future actions in defense of the Alliance.”

He paused to see how Geary was taking it. “You’ll receive copies of all this before you leave this station, Admiral. Are there any questions?”

It was a major assignment to grasp all at once. Geary’s mind focused on one key issue. “This First Fleet, sir. How many ships will be in it?”

Suva answered, smiling with tight lips as she waved broadly toward some vague area outside the station. “Everything out there, Admiral Geary.”

“Everything at Varandal?” he asked, not believing the answer.

“Yes,” Navarro confirmed. “And some more. Assault transports. You’ll have more Marines. And more of the . . . uh . . . repair ships.”

“Auxiliaries.”

“Yes.”

“You’re calling this the First Fleet,” Geary said. “But if you’re giving it so many of the warships the Alliance currently has . . .”

“There will be two other fleets,” Sakai said, his expression once more closed down. “The Second Fleet will be responsible for defense of the Alliance. That is, it will not leave Alliance space but remain within our borders. The Third Fleet will exist for training and repair.”

Another alarm rang in Geary’s head. “If the Second Fleet is supposed to stay within the borders of the Alliance, that implies First Fleet will have missions outside the borders.”

“Yes,” Navarro said. “You, yourself, in your reports stated that there would be many situations in Syndicate Worlds’ space, or where the Syndicate Worlds used to rule and now independent star systems or anarchy reign, that the Alliance must address. That will be the task of the First Fleet.”

The mission description felt reasonable. And giving him command of a fleet wasn’t unexpected. He had done a decent job of commanding the fleet before. But, especially after the confrontation he had just had with the senators, it seemed strange to be handed formal control of that much firepower. “The government still trusts me with command of a fleet?”

“Of course,” Navarro said without hesitation. “I’m sure you’re aware that you’re the only logical choice for such an assignment. You’re Black Jack Geary. You’ve already proven to be far better at combat command than any other senior officer in the fleet. And even if you weren’t, there’d be tremendous popular pressure to place you in such an important job.”

“There are other factors of which you should be aware,” Senator Sakai said, still impassive. “Much military funding is being cut. You will not be receiving more ships.”

Navarro nodded. “No. The government is canceling most of the warships under construction. They’re not needed anymore, and we can’t afford them. Partially completed warships are being scrapped or placed into preservation status pending any future need to finish work on them. There are a few new warships that were far enough along in construction that canceling them would have cost more than completing them. They’ll go into the Third Fleet until they’re ready to join the Second Fleet.”

“I understand,” Geary said. It made sense, and it was consistent with the news reports that he had seen. Even the reduced fleet the government was talking about would be a few times the size of the peacetime Alliance fleet a century ago. “But that will mean Second Fleet will be spread out a great deal, with few ships covering a very large region of space.”

“Well, yes. But that fleet will only have to deal with anything leaking over into Alliance space from the mess in what used to be the Syndicate Worlds.”

“Then you intend to have the First Fleet often operating outside Alliance space?” It seemed important to get that said up front.

“Yes,” Suva replied.

Geary eyed both Navarro and Sakai, but neither elaborated.

“There are some things you may not have heard,” Senator Suva added. “You should understand the situation that we are facing. There’s a growing faction within the Senate that believes our existing military forces should be cut far more than has been proposed so far. Some of them don’t trust the military, and others want to divert that money to other purposes or use it to cut taxes, and some are motivated by both reasons.”

“Yet,” Sakai said, “the external threats remain.”

“So, our problem,” Suva said, “is how do we justify the continued size of the Alliance fleet? We have to be seen using those warships, and using most of them, not just small portions of the existing fleet. Otherwise, there will be unbearable pressure to either decommission or scrap those warships.”

That, too, made perfect sense, except for the part about Senator Suva expressing concern for the fate of the military during peacetime. During Geary’s one earlier and admittedly fairly brief encounter with Senator Suva, she hadn’t impressed him as being deeply invested in the military. What had changed her mind, that now Suva wanted to provide reasons to keep the fleet at its present size? “Senator,” Geary said, “I do think the Alliance is going to need those warships.”

“Of course.” Outward agreement but little feeling of real concurrence. “There is another issue, bearing on events that have just occurred. We have numerous agents within the fleet, reporting on morale and other matters vital for the government to know. Loyalty to the government is not a powerful component of the fleet.” Suva turned a look upon Navarro, as if emphasizing some point they had argued before. “Those warships can be characterized as a threat to the government. If knowledge of that grows in the Senate, the pressure to eliminate those warships will become very strong.”

“ ‘Eliminate’?” Geary asked, surprised by the use of that term.

“Pardon me,” Suva said. “ ‘Decommission’ is the right term? That is one factor. The other thing our agents report is that the longer the fleet sits in orbit, the more restless its crews might become. If we keep those warships idle, their crews will become harder and harder to control. I assume you see the truth in this.”

Geary nodded back, the movement sharp. “I won’t argue that, Madam Senator. But the crews of those ships have had very little chance to visit homes or families during the war. They deserve that opportunity now. If they don’t get it, we’ll have big morale problems from that, likely even more quickly than from giving the crews too little to do.”

“What do you suggest, Admiral?” Navarro asked.

“More time at home for them. You say we need to carry out this mission into alien space quickly, but if we could delay that for a couple of more months—”

“No, no. That’s impossible. We have an active threat that needs to be investigated. I’ve been convinced of that by the other members of the council,” Navarro said, giving Geary the first hint that there had been debate within the council on his orders, “and I understand the need to act quickly. It cannot be months.”

Instead of arguing for a more specific time frame, Geary just nodded, suspecting that they would keep pushing for less than whatever he asked for. Ruling out “months” did not make a single month an unreasonable period for his own planning on when the fleet should leave. But if he asked for a month, the grand council and fleet headquarters might insist on a period of only a few weeks instead. Don’t ask questions you don’t want to know the answer to. “Yes, sir.”

Senator Suva was watching him closely. “Admiral, if those warships are sitting inside the Alliance, they pose a great threat to the Alliance. Today’s events prove that.” She leaned forward. “You have surely heard that there are those who wish you to become ruler of the Alliance. With you and those warships outside the Alliance, the threat posed by you is much reduced. We have been told that matters to you, that you don’t wish to destabilize the government or cause a coup. Now is the time to prove that you truly believe that.”

It was all true enough, but he once again felt that he was being forced into something by arguments he dared not openly disagree with. “I do believe it,” Geary said, “and I believe that my actions have already proven the truth of my commitment to the government.”

Navarro smiled slightly. “You have every right to say that. Please understand that we’re trying to thread the needle on this, keeping the fleet strong enough for what needs to be done but avoiding situations where the fleet can threaten what it’s supposed to defend. That’s very hard for me to say, but you know the truth of it. Plenty of people in the government fear the military, and plenty of politicians want to use the military for their own ends. A lot of people also fear you, or they want to use you for their own ends.”

“I have been made aware of that, sir.”

Navarro took a deep breath. “Then you also understand that we need to keep that fleet out of the grasp of people who want to use it in ways that will harm the Alliance, and we need to keep you out of their reach as well. I admit it. You’ve done nothing wrong, and your example is an important factor in helping to keep the Alliance together. You’re a hero of the Alliance, Admiral, not of any particular planet or political party, even though I understand that Glenlyon and Kosatka have already started arguing over which planet owns the rights to claim you now. But your continued existence is also a threat to everything you and we want to preserve.”

That sounded very wrong. “My continued existence?”

“I’m sorry, that wasn’t what I meant.”

But Sakai’s face revealed nothing, and Suva kept her gaze off to one side so that Geary couldn’t read any feelings in her eyes.

Navarro sighed. “I won’t be chair of the council much longer, Admiral. You’ll be dealing with someone else in that position. But we’ve all discussed this and agreed that the mission is very important and that you are the person to undertake it. No one else could be trusted with it, and I’m not trying to flatter you when I say that I think no one else would have nearly the same chance of success. But let me tell you, if you get offers to make you ruler of the Alliance, you’d be well advised to turn them down. It can get ugly, and the strain is unremitting. I was even accused by my political foes of having been bought by the Syndics, and that’s the sort of charge that might have led some misguided zealot to try to assassinate me.”

“I thought the government had seen my report, Senator. The Syndic CEO we had captive said those impressions that you had sold out were deliberately created by the Syndics to harm the Alliance government.”

Navarro smiled again though in a pained way. “Facts, Admiral, do not play a major role in the perceptions of some individuals. Though I did appreciate the exoneration. Now, Admiral Geary, are you prepared to carry out your orders?”

“He should either accept the authority of the government or not,” Suva argued. “We can’t constantly be asking him if his orders are acceptable to him.”

“I will carry out my orders to the best of my ability,” Geary said, before any further debate could erupt over his earlier actions. “But entering alien space and attempting to communicate with them may prove very difficult. Not that I want to fight them again, but as Senator Sakai surely told you, the aliens showed no interest in negotiating or peaceful relations during the encounter our fleet had with them.”

“Perhaps after the losses you inflicted on them,” Navarro said, “they’ll be more willing to talk. We need a better grasp not only of their strength and technology but also who they are and how they think.”

“We know they can be ruthless,” Geary pointed out. “They destroyed their own damaged ships to keep us from capturing any of them and learning anything about them.”

“Yes.” Navarro visibly hesitated, looking to both Suva and Sakai again, both of whom nodded back firmly. “But that makes it all the more critical that we know more about them. What do they look like? What are their cities like? What kind of culture do they have? If we can learn those things, perhaps we’ll learn how to avoid further belligerence.”

“Senator Navarro, I feel obligated to point out just how dangerous this mission could be. We have no idea what kind of defenses the aliens might have within the region of space they occupy, nor how many warships they might have.”

“I worried about those same issues, Admiral, but that’s why you must go! It’s simply unacceptable, scientifically, morally, and in terms of risk, for us to know so little of the first intelligent nonhuman species we’ve encountered.” Navarro glanced at the display and pointed to the representation of Varandal’s hypernet gate there. “Humanity’s ignorance was almost our undoing. We might have wiped ourselves out, or crippled our species beyond hope of recovery, thanks to attractive but potentially deadly gifts we didn’t know we had received from aliens we didn’t know existed.”

“You will have a secondary mission,” Senator Sakai added. “The Alliance also needs firsthand reports, as timely as possible, about what is happening within Syndic territory. Our ability to collect information within Syndic space is fragmentary and mostly confined to star systems close to the border with the Alliance. Which star systems does the Syndicate Worlds’ central government still control, which have declared independence, which are fighting the central government or each other, which are a developing threat to not just their neighbors but in time to the Alliance itself? You must travel through Syndic space in order to reach the border with the aliens, which will give you the opportunity for firsthand collection of information deep within Syndic territory.”

Geary added it all up. “That’s quite an opportunity to excel, Senator.”

“Excuse me?”

“I mean that it is a demanding set of orders. But I’ll do my best,” he repeated, “as I know every man and woman in the fleet will as well.”

“Then this meeting is completed,” Suva said.

“In that case, it’s probably best that I get out of here and back where I can communicate with the outside, so I can ensure that the situation is back under control.”

Navarro looked toward the unmoving ships on the frozen display, but Suva had her eyes on Geary. “You will receive confirmation of these orders from your fleet headquarters, Admiral,” she said.

“I may need some extra authority when dealing with fleet headquarters to ensure that I get the ships and supplies I need for this assignment.”

Senator Suva smiled reassuringly. “Certainly.”

The promise had been given too easily. Victoria Rione’s voice whispered in Geary’s head. Don’t trust anyone any more than you have to. But he couldn’t see what could be gained by pushing the point at this time. The politicians would just provide more verbal assurances and wouldn’t provide any written guarantees. Better to get the current situation stabilized, then push for whatever he needed in the future.

Navarro alone walked Geary to the hatch and followed him out. “Give Admiral Geary an escort to help him get back out through the checkpoints as quickly as possible,” Navarro told the commandos standing guard outside.

“Yes, sir.” Beckoning to four other commandos, the major in charge saluted Geary. “Sir, if you’ll permit us to escort you?”

“I’d be honored. But we do have to hurry.”

“Yes, sir!”

They rushed through the next three checkpoints, at each one the commandos making gestures to the soldiers on guard that all was well, producing not-entirely-suppressed smiles. Tension seemed to be draining out of the air as he went, the soldiers’ attitudes relaxing even though they maintained rigidly correct postures, presenting arms instead of just passing Geary through. He saluted them in return, trying not to let his own worries show.

As Geary cleared the third checkpoint, he must have also passed out of the jamming zone. The major’s comm unit chimed. The soldier gave Geary a questioning look, got a quick nod of approval in reply, and answered the call. “There’s a general call out for you, Admiral. Urgent request for you to contact a Captain Desjani.”

“May I borrow your comm unit?” Fortunately, the government-issue units were standardized, so he didn’t have to figure out how to work a piece of ground forces equipment as he punched in the familiar contact data. “Tanya?”

“Where are you, Admiral?” Desjani asked, her voice clipped but also very calm.

The security jamming still had enough effect to block any video, but her tone of voice told him that the situation hadn’t resolved itself yet. “I’m halfway back out through the security cordons and heading for you. What’s going on?”

“Your second message helped a lot, but I’ve still had limited success with controlling the situation. Rumors are proliferating faster than we can shut them down. We still have warships out of their assigned orbital positions and vectoring toward Ambaru station.”

“I saw a bit of that. Why didn’t they respond to my second order?”

Desjani’s voice stayed calm but got colder. “Questions have been raised as to whether it was authentic or some disinformation cobbled together by the government to keep the fleet quiet.”

He had trouble controlling his own anger when he heard that. “Where’s Admiral Timbale?”

“In the central command compartment. He’s trying to keep the other military forces in Varandal from reacting to the ship movements. I strongly recommend another personal statement from Admiral Geary to the fleet, and I recommend it be sent out five minutes ago.”

Geary stared down the empty corridor he was now rushing through, his commando escorts keeping up on both sides. “You don’t even know what other news I have.”

“Whatever your news is, it can’t be worse than what I’ve had to work with,” Desjani replied.

He tapped his unit irritably. “I still can’t get a broadcast link from where I am with this comm unit. Can I relay through your comm unit?”

“I believe so, Admiral. Wait one. Got it. Voice only. You will have a broadcast link in three . . . two . . . one . . . now.”

The broadcast icon popped up on Geary’s comm unit display. He slowed down to keep from breathing hard from exertion as he held the device closer to his mouth and began speaking clearly. “All units in the Alliance fleet, this is Admiral Geary. All ships are to return to assigned orbital stations immediately. I do not want to have to repeat this order again.” He let a full measure of anger and disappointment sound as he said that. Should he threaten the errant warships with relief of their commanding officers if they didn’t obey this time? No. Let his expectations be clear and give the officers responsible for overreacting some way of covering their retreat without seeming to surrender. In this fleet, with its concepts of honor, threats might well backfire.

“The fleet headquarters message,” Geary continued, “which notified the fleet of pending charges against numerous commanding officers in the fleet, has been canceled effective immediately.” The senators hadn’t actually told him that in so many words, but this was no time to leave any ambiguities hanging. “I say again, the fleet headquarters message is canceled. No actions ordered by that message remain in effect, and it will not be retransmitted. I will be proceeding directly from Ambaru station to my flagship, and once aboard Dauntless, I will immediately hold a conference to brief all commanding officers on the situation. To the honor of our ancestors, Geary, out.”

He took another deep breath, keying off the broadcast link before speaking to Desjani again. “How was that?”

“Acceptable.”

“Thanks. Assuming things calm down, you and I will need a shuttle to Dauntless.”

“I already ordered one dispatched. It’s about fifteen minutes out from docking. Where do you want it brought in?”

Good question. Already worn-out, Geary considered a nice, secure, and more isolated military dock. But he realized the tension within Varandal hadn’t dissipated by a long shot. Plenty of people must have felt something was wrong even if they hadn’t noticed warships on the move. I need to show everyone that everything is fine. Civilians as well as military. “Make it a civilian dock. Ask Admiral Timbale to deploy the same soldiers who were working crowd control when we got here to set up things at whatever dock gets assigned. Don’t try to seal it off. Let people see us and see that everything is okay.”

“I understand, Admiral,” Desjani said, her tones getting a little sharp again. “I will be happy to assist you.”

Ouch. “If you please, Captain.”

“Certainly, Admiral. I am happy to report that all ships off station seem to be turning around. I don’t think any of them wanted to find out what would happen if you had to give that order a fourth time.”

“Thanks, Tanya.”

He closed the call, handing the comm unit back to the major with his thanks. The major took the unit with an awed expression. Would he keep it, Geary wondered, or put it up for auction as a device actually used by Black Jack himself?

Geary took it slower after that, walking at a good but not hurried pace, now wanting to convey a lack of anxiety to anyone watching. Calm continued to spread through the station. The last few checkpoints were passed with the soldiers not even bothering to check him through this time but just making shows of saluting him.

Geary dutifully returned every salute, surprised to see that the old gesture of respect was spreading so quickly through the rest of the military. When he had been awakened from survival sleep, only the Marines had still retained saluting. The rest of the military, scarred and bled white repeatedly by the never-ending war, had let the custom lapse. “Did your chain of command order everyone to start using salutes?” he asked the major.

“No, Admiral Geary,” the commando said, his shy smile at strange odds with the number of battle awards he wore on his left breast and the scars mottling one side of his face. “The fleet’s sailors came in doing it, and they said you thought it was a good idea, so everyone else is picking up on it. Our ancestors did it. We should. No one had to order anyone, sir. Although . . . well, it was a little hard to start copying Marines.”

Geary grinned although feeling awkward again that a veteran of so much combat should be overwhelmed by him. “There are worse fates, Major . . . ?”

“Sirandi, sir,” the major said, coming to attention for a moment.

“Sirandi?” Where have I heard that name? On the old Kutar. “I served with a Lieutenant Sirandi on a destroyer. He was from . . . Drina.”

The major’s eyes widened in astonishment. “My family has relatives on Drina.”

“Perhaps he’s one of them.” Geary paused as time rushed over him again. He hadn’t looked up the fate of Lieutenant Sirandi, as he had avoided learning about the deaths of most of those he had once known, but the man had surely died long ago, either in battle or from old age. “Perhaps he was one of them, I mean.”

Major Sirandi’s eyes were shining. “It is a great honor to know one of my ancestors served with you, Admiral Geary.”

Trying to shake off the melancholy that still threatened to hit him when reminded in a personal way of the century lost to survival sleep, Geary shook his head. “The honor is mine, to have served with him, and now to be in the service while you are as well. Your ancestors, the ancestors of all of you,” he said to the other soldiers, “are surely proud of you for the way you honor them with your lives of duty and sacrifice.”

The phrase sounded old-fashioned, and it was for these soldiers even if it had been in common use in Geary’s time; but for some reason that seemed to please the soldiers even more. Tradition meant a lot, especially when other certainties had been rocked on their foundations. As they walked onward, Geary took careful looks at the commandos, seeing that the major and most of the others had not just the combat awards but also the brooding eyes of veterans who had seen too many things and lost too many friends. They might be demobilized someday, sent off to rejoin the civilian world, but they would never truly be civilians again. “How are the ground forces doing?” Geary asked. “Is there much demobilization going on?”

Major Sirandi hesitated, his lips pressing together tightly for a moment. “Do I have permission to speak freely, Admiral?”

“Yes.”

“It is very disorganized right now. Some units are told they will disband immediately, others told there will be no major downsizing. Then the next day everybody is told the opposite of what they were told before. Our own unit has been informed that we will remain active, but I don’t know.” The major paused again. “I have tried to imagine what I would do. I don’t know. All my life I’ve trained to fight, and I have fought. It’s what I know.”

The other commandos nodded in agreement, even the younger ones. “My family served for three generations in the war,” one of them said. “I always knew I would serve when I grew up. Now, I don’t know what the future is.”

“You’re not alone in that,” Geary said, surprised to hear these soldiers expressing the same sentiments he had spoken of to Tanya. “None of us know what the future holds.”

The soldiers exchanged quick glances, none of them saying what they doubtless all believed, that Black Jack, rumored to have spent his century of survival sleep among the living stars, might indeed know more than other men and women.

“You have your Marines in the fleet, Admiral Geary,” Major Sirandi said in a sudden rush. “But if you need good commandos, men and women who can fight better than anyone, please remember us.”

Geary met his eyes. “Major, rest assured that I will remember you, and everyone else here.”

A minute later, the major’s comm unit chimed again. “Dock 71 Beta,” he reported to Geary. “Your shuttle is docking there.”

“Thank you,” Geary said. “That’s Captain Desjani?”

“Just a text, Admiral. It also says . . .” The major frowned in puzzlement. “ ‘Mother was right.’ ”

Geary couldn’t help grinning. “It’s . . . a code, Major.” Of sorts. He remembered the shock on the face of Desjani’s mother when they’d met her on Kosatka, and the first words her mother had spoken to Tanya. You are going to have a very interesting life, Tanya. Just remember, if it gets too interesting, that you chose it.

They had cleared all but the last security checkpoint when Admiral Timbale came toward them. The commandos stayed walking with Geary but fell back a few steps so he could talk to Timbale privately. “Is everything all right on your end?”

“For the moment,” Timbale said. “I’ll be happy once the extra troops and assorted senators leave, and my station starts getting back to normal. I take it you have orders now?”

“You’re talking to the new commander of the First Fleet.” Geary waved to encompass the whole star system.

“I hope congratulations are in order.”

“Me, too.”

“Is Dauntless part of your fleet?”

“Yes.” Geary hadn’t had a chance to let that soak in before now, to realize that his orders would not force a separation from Tanya.

Timbale grimaced. “We don’t have much time before we get to the dock, but there’s one other thing I should tell you while I have a chance to speak privately, something I heard rumblings about. Maybe just scuttlebutt, but it sounded legitimate to me. Have you wondered why your orders didn’t send Dauntless and her commanding officer off to one end of the Alliance and you off to the other end?”

“To be perfectly honest, I hadn’t gotten around to wondering about that yet,” Geary said. “Though I had worried about the possibility.”

“It’s not out of concern for your happiness. You and Desjani maintained a professional relationship while you were single.” Timbale gave him an apologetic look. “Some people are questioning how well you can do that when you’re married. If you’re separated, there’s no chance for failure. But if you’re together . . .”

“We might slip up?” He felt beyond anger, wondering at the minds who spent their time creating trouble for others instead of trying to solve problems.

“Just a warning. There are people watching for that, hoping for that, for some chink in the armor of Black Jack.”

He felt a short laugh escape. “Hell, if they want to know that I’m human, I’ll be happy to announce that to the universe.”

“Not too human,” Timbale warned. “You and Desjani getting married raised some eyebrows despite what was known or suspected about your feelings for each other. But you’d done nothing wrong that anyone could turn up, and the marriage was perfectly proper by rule and regulation. But if you two acted inappropriately now, it would give some individuals what they consider legitimate grounds to call into question whether there were improper actions before.”

Geary realized he truly didn’t care what others might suspect about him, but Tanya was another matter. He couldn’t allow her honor to be questioned, especially not because of something he might do. “Thanks for the warning. We weren’t planning on doing anything while aboard Dauntless, but it doesn’t hurt to be reminded that we’ll still be watched.” By those who are hoping that we fail.

Once past the last checkpoint, Geary and Timbale started to encounter other people in the corridors again, his commando escort now moving to march proudly ahead to keep the path clear. The civilians smiled and called out greetings, while the military personnel smiled and saluted. Geary kept returning salutes, hoping they would reach the shuttle before his arm gave out.

Desjani waited near the boarding ramp, standing at parade rest and looking as if no crisis had threatened them just a short time ago. The two ranks of soldiers were once again drawn up as an honor guard. Nearby, other dense lines of soldiers once more restrained crowds whose cheers and cries of “Black Jack” echoed off the walls.

Major Sirandi and his commandos escorted Geary up to the ramp, then the major saluted Desjani. “Captain, the 574th Commando Regiment is honored to return Admiral Geary to the warships of the Alliance fleet.”

“Thank you,” Desjani replied, herself coming to attention and returning the salute. “The fleet appreciates your returning the admiral. We’d hate to lose him. Admiral, I suggest departing as quickly as possible so you can address necessary issues in the fleet.”

He nodded, wondering what Desjani hadn’t been able to tell him over the borrowed comm unit, thanked the commandos again as they beamed under the envious gazes of other nearby soldiers, forced himself to wave to the crowds, smile, and look calm and confident, then walked between the lines of the honor guard, saluting once again with an arm grown sore from exertion, before entering the welcome sanctuary of the fleet shuttle.

No, not sanctuary. Just a means of getting quickly from this crisis to the next one.

FOUR

DESJANI sat silently for a few moments after the hatch sealed. “Did your message to the fleet constitute formal notification that Dauntless will once again be your flagship?” she finally asked, looking straight ahead rather than at Geary.

Oops. “I guess it did. Until I went into that meeting, I didn’t even know what kind of command I’d have or if Dauntless would be a part of it.”

“So after you left the meeting, you told the fleet. Before you told me.”

Geary didn’t quite avoid wincing. “You told me I had to broadcast something to the fleet as soon as possible.”

She gave him a sidelong look. “What exactly will Dauntless be the flagship of?”

“The First Fleet.”

“That sounds impressive.”

“It is,” Geary assured her. “Most of the ships we’ve worked with so far will be part of it.”

“And yet something is really bothering you,” Desjani observed, facing him. “What’s the catch?”

Geary activated the privacy fields around their seats. The pilots weren’t supposed to be listening in, and the privacy fields wouldn’t defeat sophisticated surveillance systems, but he wasn’t telling her anything that he wouldn’t soon be telling the rest of the fleet’s commanding officers. He explained his assignment and the mission while Desjani listened with occasional grunts of exasperation.

When he finished, she shook her head. “I never knew that even Alliance politicians could pack that many contradictory commands into one single order. How are you supposed to penetrate space belonging to a species with proven hostile intent while also avoiding hostilities? How are you supposed to establish communications with them while respecting their concepts of privacy, whatever those are? And how are you to reach any agreements with the aliens without somehow restricting our own options in the future?”

“Beats the hell out of me,” Geary admitted. “How big a problem do you think we’ll have with the crews? Being sent out on a mission like this when they had every right to expect a long time at home?”

“Problems?” Desjani exhaled with obvious annoyance. “The government knows that the only leader the fleet would follow is you because they trust you to bring them home again. If anyone else were in command, there’d be major trouble.”

That made him feel worse. “Because they trust me, they’ll follow me into what could be a major mess.”

“Admiral.” Her tone made him look directly into Tanya’s eyes. “You have a very difficult course to steer. Without you, the fleet would currently be blowing apart Varandal.”

“If I weren’t here, that problem wouldn’t have even come up.”

“Oh, excuse me, Admiral. If you weren’t here, then the fleet would have been destroyed several months ago back in the Syndic home star system, and the Syndics would be blowing apart Varandal and everything else they could reach in the Alliance.”

“Why isn’t that enough?” Geary demanded. “Why does the fate of the Alliance still depend upon me?”

“I told you that the living stars might not be done with you,” Desjani said. “As to why, we’ll have to ask our ancestors that question, but one thing I do know is that, in this case, those responsibilities have been given to someone who can handle them.”

“Tanya.” He pressed one palm hard against his eyes. “How am I supposed to support the government, and support the fleet, when each of them thinks the other is out to destroy it?”

Desjani’s hand came to rest on his, and he heard her speak in a somber voice. “Try to keep either one from doing anything stupid.”

“Is that all?” He felt a disbelieving laugh coming and let it out, the sound filling the compartment for a moment. “How can anyone keep other people from doing stupid things? Humans are good at doing stupid things. It’s one of our talents, and one we like to exercise frequently.”

She didn’t answer immediately. “If you don’t exercise a talent, you get rusty,” Desjani finally said. “We stay in practice by doing stupid things often. Can you imagine if humans were bad at being stupid? It might take centuries to do the amount of damage to ourselves that we can now achieve within months.”

He opened his eyes, staring at her serious expression, then noticed one corner of her mouth quivering as Desjani tried to keep a smile suppressed. “When did you acquire this wicked sense of humor, Tanya?”

“It’s a small part of my attempts to remain sane. And, speaking of insane people, shall we talk about events during the almost revolution a short time ago? You should have a rundown on that before you meet with everyone.”

Geary grasped her hand for a moment before releasing it. “I may have to steer the course, but you’re keeping me on it. You’re right. I couldn’t hear any of the messages that must have been flying in the back channels. I saw one update, so I know some of the ships involved. Illustrious, of course.”

She bared her teeth. “Badaya kept raising hell. He was the hardest to deal with, insisting that the government was trying to get rid of you and all of your supporters in the fleet while all but calling me a widow. If we’d been in the same compartment, I would have been extremely tempted to empty a sidearm into him.”

“That would have shut him up,” Geary said.

“Well, yeah, that would have been an extra benefit.”

Deciding not to pursue the problem of Badaya for the moment, Geary mentally ran through the long list of warships present in Varandal. “Dreadnaught.”

“Yes.” Desjani seemed uncomfortable, then shrugged. “She insisted that you needed help.”

“Even though you passed on my order.”

“Right. Jane Geary was very aggressive about confronting the government, and she hauled more than one other warship in her wake as you probably saw.”

It didn’t make sense. “She wasn’t one of the officers being charged or relieved of command by that message. Dreadnaught wasn’t even part of the fleet until after the battle here. And Jane ended up in command of a battleship instead of a battle cruiser because she was judged not to be forceful enough. What made her fly off the handle?”

“I really don’t know. But people noticed that she was urging everyone to do what I was telling them not to do. On the private channels, there was a lot of chatter about how she wasn’t backing me up. Not that I took that personally,” Desjani took pains to add. “Professionally, I was seriously ticked off, though. I would suggest talking to her.”

“I will.” Geary went through his memories again. “Did anything or anyone else stand out on your end?”

“Hmmm.” She thought, then gave Geary an enigmatic look. “Dragon.”

“Dragon?” Commander Bradamont, one of Tulev’s officers. “What was surprising? All of Tulev’s battle cruisers, including Dragon, stayed on station.”

“That’s right,” Desjani agreed. “But in the private channels, Bradamont was out in front when it came to backing me up.”

“Why is that a problem?” Geary paused to think. “It’s unusual, isn’t it?” His memories of Bradamont were of a commander who fought her ship well and aggressively, but at conferences always remained silent and in the shadow of Tulev. He couldn’t recall her ever speaking up or even doing anything that would have drawn attention at conferences.

“Right again. Bradamont’s been keeping her head down since assuming command of Dragon, and for good reason.”

“Wait a minute.” Something about Bradamont teased at his memory. Her service record. Something unusual. “She was a Syndic prisoner of war.”

“Very good, Admiral. Who got liberated while she was being transferred to another POW camp.” Desjani gave him another hard-to-interpret look. “Her transport was intercepted by an Alliance raiding force. That didn’t happen very often. Neither did transfers of POWs from one Syndic labor camp to another.”

Geary sat back and watched Desjani. “There was a security flag on her record, but nothing high priority, so I hadn’t gotten around to checking it.”

“I’m not surprised. About the security flag that is. It’s funny how hard it still is to say it.”

“To say what?”

“Bradamont fell in love with a Syndic officer while she was a prisoner of war.”

That had been the last thing he expected to hear. That she had been a difficult prisoner, prone to organizing resistance among other prisoners. Or that she had been in possession of special intelligence that the Syndics were trying to pry out of her. Or that Bradamont had some family connections in the Alliance that the Syndics wanted to try to exploit. “She fell in love. With a Syndic. In a POW camp?”

“He was some kind of officer or liaison at the camp.” She saw Geary’s expression. “Now you know why she’s stayed quiet. No sense attracting attention with that in your past.”

Hatred toward the Syndics had grown poisonous during the extended war, its corrosive effects on honor and professionalism shocking to Geary when he had learned of those things. But even without that, such a relationship between officers on opposite sides was hard to understand. “How did she get command of a battle cruiser?”

Desjani shrugged. “Excellent question, Admiral. But no one knows why. It’s absolutely certain that security must have given her a clean bill of health after debriefing her. Naturally, everyone has their own theories about connections she might have had or if she was on some secret mission while a prisoner. All I know for certain is that after being cleared by security, Bradamont was assigned to be executive officer on Dragon, and after Captain Ming transferred off Dragon, Bradamont was promoted to command. Bloch was in charge of the fleet then, and at the time I heard him grumbling about the command being given to Bradamont by higher authority rather than his being able to use it as a reward for some officer politically loyal to Bloch.”

“She seems like a good officer and good fighter, but . . .”

“Yes,” Desjani said. “But. For a while, I couldn’t even stand to look at her.”

He watched Desjani curiously, remembering that soon after they had first met, Desjani had expressed regret at not being able to wipe out entire Syndic planets. “How do you feel now?”

“She’s . . . done her duty. Fought bravely.” Desjani gave him a cross look. “I respect her actions in battle. Just before you assumed command, in the chaos of the Syndic ambush, Bradamont made a risky firing run with Dragon that drew fire from two Syndic battleships that had Dauntless in their sights. She probably saved my ship.”

Geary nodded slowly. “Then she probably saved both of our lives, too.”

“That had also occurred to me, but that was less important than the fact that she fought her ship as well as Black Jack.” Desjani paused. “That’s an old saying in the fleet.”

“I’ve heard it,” Geary replied.

“Sorry.” She knew how little he liked most of the sayings about and attributed to the legendary Black Jack, especially since he couldn’t recall ever actually having said most of them. “Anyway, that’s why I’ve been all right with Bradamont since then. That and, uh, gaining some personal understanding of the tricks a heart can play on people whether they want it to happen or not. Obviously, Bradamont never compromised herself in that prison camp, or security wouldn’t have cleared her even if she was a Geary. Sorry. That’s another saying. But that’s why Bradamont tried not to draw attention to herself. Which makes her highly visible attempts to help control things a short time ago unusual. Things have changed a bit, of course. Not too long ago, if she’d spoken up, someone like Kila or Faressa would have gone after her, but the war is officially over, and they’re both dead, may my ancestors and the living stars forgive me for not being the least bit sorry in either of their cases.”

Another pause, then Desjani smiled for a moment. “I missed Jaylen Cresida, but Bradamont . . . she felt like Jaylen was there backing me up.”

“That’s pretty high praise.”

“I mean it.” Desjani eyed him. “But not everyone took her high profile in this matter well. How do you intend explaining to Badaya and his faction why you’re leaving the Alliance when they think you’re actually running everything?”

The change in topic threw him off for a moment, as did the realization that he had no answer to the question. “I’m open to suggestions.”

She checked the display in front of her. “Twenty minutes until we reach Dauntless. I’d rather spend it necking with my new husband since the living stars alone know when next we’ll have an opportunity for that, but it looks like we’ll have to devote that time to using our brains.”

“I share your sentiments.” Geary activated his own display. “Let’s see if there are any ideas here. Search . . . leader . . . no, ruler . . . fighting . . . outside . . . borders.” An extremely long string of results stared insolently back at him. “Great. How do I sort through all this?”

Leaning close to him, Desjani pointed to one. “Marcus Aurelius? That’s a strange name. Look how old that citation is. Roman Emperor. What is a Roman Emperor?”

“What was a Roman Emperor,” Geary corrected, staring at the dates. “A long time ago, on Old Earth. What does that have to do with . . . Ruler of his Empire, but he spent his time fighting on the borders.”

“Sounds like we found our precedent.”

“Let’s hope so.” Geary kept reading. “He was also some kind of philosopher. ‘If it is not right do not do it; if it is not true do not say it,’ ” he quoted.

“Easy for him to say,” Desjani complained. “In order for you to do the right thing, you have to be pretty careful what you say. Maybe things were simpler back in the times of this Roman Empire. It all happened on one planet. On part of one planet. How complicated could things have been?”

“I guess that would depend on how much people have changed since then, or if they’ve changed at all. This Aurelius had to fight on the borders of the Empire, to maintain security,” Geary mused. “While trusted subordinates ran things back home. That’s our answer. Everybody says I’m the only one who could handle these aliens, so we tell everyone that I have to go do that while my trusted agents follow orders back inside the Alliance.”

“Smooth,” Desjani approved. “And the identities of the agents have to remain secret?”

“Naturally.” But he said that in a sour way that drew another sharp look from her.

“Admiral Geary, you’re only misleading those who would otherwise do things that would cause a lot of trouble for everyone, including themselves. Now straighten up your uniform.”

“It looks fine—”

“You’re an admiral, and you have to look your best. Besides, I don’t want us walking off this shuttle looking like I’ve been groping you.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

That earned him another look, some annoyed eye rolling, and a heavy sigh of exasperation.

ABOARD Dauntless, the shuttle resting securely in the shuttle dock, he walked down the ramp and onto one of Dauntless’s decks, memories flooding in of events here. Geary’s last words with the flawed and doomed Admiral Bloch, his later first encounters with Alliance men and women liberated from Syndicate Worlds’ labor camps, and his frantic departure about four weeks ago, trying to stay ahead of a new promotion and new orders as he sought to catch up with Desjani.

The short notice before their arrival didn’t seem to have fazed Dauntless’s crew. A perfectly turned-out set of sideboys rendered honors as Geary reached the deck. An announcement echoed through the ship. “Admiral Geary, arriving.” He raised an arm, which had just begun to recover, and returned their salutes with his own.

As Desjani came down the ramp behind him, honors were rendered again, followed by the declaration, “Dauntless, arriving.” By ancient traditions regarding commanding officers of warships, Desjani went by the name of her ship in such matters.

Geary stopped and waited for her, his eyes running over the entire complement of officers on the ship drawn up in ranks, behind them more ranks of sailors and Marines representing the rest of the enlisted crew. They looked fine. They looked more than fine. He realized he was smiling at the sight, and left the smile in place, knowing they could see his reaction.

Desjani paused beside him, her face professionally dispassionate, then nodded to her executive officer. “The crew appears to be in acceptable shape.”

“Thank you, Captain.”

“The admiral and I will be attending an emergency fleet conference. I’ll conduct an inspection of the ship once that is completed.”

“Yes, ma’am.” The executive officer took a rectangular object about a half meter wide and perhaps a quarter of a meter high from one of the other officers, then offered it to Desjani. “From the officers and crew of Dauntless, with our compliments and congratulations to you and Admiral Geary, Captain.”

Desjani frowned slightly as she took the object, then one corner of her mouth bent upward, and she turned the article so that Geary could see. A plaque made from real wood, inlaid with a shining metallic star map of the course the fleet had followed under Geary’s command through Syndicate Worlds’ space, passing through star system after star system, each labeled with its name, until ending at Varandal within Alliance space. Under the inlay, actual twine sealed to the wood had been formed into the names Geary and Desjani, the strings tied together between the names in a beautifully formed knot. He had seen sailors practice such knot tying since he was a junior officer, and had been told the knots were incredibly ancient, and still valuable when tying something down could be as important as it had been on the earliest trading ships on Earth’s seas. “Very nice,” he commented. “Thank you.”

“Yes,” Desjani agreed. “Thank you all,” she added at a volume that effortlessly carried through the hangar deck. “Please deliver this to my stateroom,” she asked the executive officer in a much lower voice, handing it carefully back to him. “The admiral and I will proceed to the conference now.”

“Yes, Captain. Welcome back.”

She finally smiled. “It’s nice to be back. You have doubtless already heard this, but I am happy to provide formal notice that Dauntless will once again be Admiral Geary’s flagship. Please inform the crew.”

Geary walked with Desjani out of the hangar as the officers and crew broke ranks behind them, a buzz of conversation erupting over Desjani’s news. He let out a long, slow breath, happy to be walking familiar passageways. You couldn’t get lost anywhere there was a comm connection to walk you through any location, but there was still comfort at being in a place where you needed no directions. “You want the plaque in your stateroom?” Geary asked.

“Yes, sir. It goes on a bulkhead in my stateroom. It’s much less public that way.”

“If it’s in your stateroom, I might never get to see it. I thought that we’d agreed I shouldn’t visit you there for the sake of appearances.”

She frowned in thought. “Maybe I’ll let you borrow it every once in a while.”

“Thanks.”

THE conference room was familiar, too, but not so comforting. There had been too much drama in that compartment for it to carry any sense of relaxation. Geary sighed and sat down, checking the conferencing software and thinking through what he would say. The fleet was currently spread out in orbits around Varandal, with the farthest ships from Dauntless almost ten light minutes distant. “That’s going to cut down on real-time questions and answers,” he said.

“You wish,” Desjani commented as she checked things on her own display.

As usual, she had understood how he really felt. “I can dream, can’t I?”

Further conversation was cut off as virtual images of commanding officers began popping into existence along the table. The table, and the compartment, seemed to grow in length to accommodate their rapidly increasing numbers. They were familiar faces now. Most of them, anyway, though with hundreds of commanding officers to deal with, Geary knew only a few well and some hardly at all. He took a moment to focus on Orion’s latest commanding officer as Commander Shen’s image appeared. Shen was thin, small in stature, and wore an annoyed look that seemed perpetual rather than the result of any particular event. Geary resolved to check on the man’s service record as soon as possible.

But Desjani glanced up when she realized that Shen had arrived, then smiled and gave him a friendly wave. Commander Shen’s eyes went to her, then the lower half of his face seemed to crack like rock being ravaged by an earthquake as he briefly returned the smile before nodding in reply and resuming his irritated expression.

“You know him?” Geary asked Desjani.

“We served together on a heavy cruiser,” she replied. “He’s a very good officer.” As if knowing what Geary was thinking, Desjani added one more thing. “Looks can be deceiving.”

“I’ll take your word for it when it comes to him, anyway.”

“Orion followed orders,” Desjani pointed out.

“Very good point.” If Shen could turn around Orion, he would earn the right to bear any expression he favored.

A moment later, Geary blinked as another commanding officer appeared. This captain seemed to be nearly a twin of Commander Shen, right down to the aggravated appearance, which looked like it rarely varied. Sensing Geary’s focus, the meeting software brought the captain’s image closer and identifying information appeared next to him. Captain Shand Vente. Invincible.

“What happened to Commander Stiles?” Geary asked in amazement.

Desjani glanced up again, then at Vente with clear distaste. “Somebody more senior in rank and with better political connections must have pulled some strings and gotten orders to assume command. Remember, command of a battle cruiser is regarded as an essential ticket punch on the way to making admiral, and if it was hard to make admiral during the war, it’s going to be damn near impossible now that admirals won’t be dying by the handfuls in battles.” Her glance strayed to Geary. “Except for you, of course, who can’t stop getting promoted to admiral over and over again.”

“Lucky me,” Geary muttered. Every once in a while, something like this still happened, something that drove home just how much the century-long war with the Syndics had warped the fleet. It wasn’t that politics had been foreign to senior officers a hundred years before, but political jockeying had been carefully hidden, never blatantly displayed by acts such as relieving another officer of command after only a few months so someone else could get their promotion ticket punched. “Is Vente related to Shen?”

“Why—?” She looked at Vente and did a double take. “Not that I know of.”

Vente, alerted by the conference software that Geary was looking his way, turned his face toward the head of the table. Unlike Shen’s, his annoyed expression didn’t waver as he hesitated, then nodded abruptly before resuming his stare at the table before him as if something irritating rested there.

Feeling sorry for the crew of Invincible but not sure that he would be able to do anything about Vente in the time available, Geary felt comforted by the arrival of Captain Tulev. Almost immediately after Tulev, the commanding officers in his division showed up in their seats, including Commander Bradamont. She sat quietly, looking at no one in particular, just as Geary recalled seeing her at past conferences when he had noticed her at all. If he hadn’t had so many other things to worry about, he probably would have wondered why someone so forceful in combat was so retiring in conferences. But then, considering his problems during that period with officers like Captain Numos, who were more forceful in conferences than in combat, if he had really taken much notice of it, he would probably have just been grateful.

That thought diverted him enough that Geary entered a fast query on Numos’s status. Still awaiting court-martial. The wheels of justice grind slowly sometimes. But they still had time to generate those idiotic charges against over a hundred fleet commanding officers when they should have been dealing with Numos.

Images were flooding in by then, the room seeming to expand at a rapid pace to accommodate their numbers. Captains, commanders, and lieutenant commanders in charge of battle cruisers, battleships, heavy and light cruisers, fleet auxiliaries, and destroyers. Captain Duellos leaned back casually, as if the fleet hadn’t been on the verge of mutiny a short time before. Captain Tulev sat stolidly, little emotion apparent, but he nodded a welcome-back to Geary. Captain Badaya peered around suspiciously, plainly still expecting government agents to pop out of the bulkheads and start arresting officers. Captain Jane Geary just sat calmly, giving no outward sign that she had been agitating for trouble not long ago. Captain Armus also revealed no uneasiness, not that he had cause for it, as usual appearing as ponderous as the battleship he commanded. Geary hadn’t fully appreciated until now just how solid and reassuring that kind of ponderousness could be when others were dashing around in alarm.

The final officer flashed into existence, and Geary stood up, the images before him reacting in staggered motion, those on ships closest to Dauntless, within a few light seconds or less, responding almost in real time, while those on the most distant ships, light minutes away, might still be reacting to his standing up when he had finished talking. “Let me start by laying out the situation. I have been assigned command of the new First Fleet. Every ship here is also assigned to that fleet, so as of half an hour ago, I am officially your commander once more.”

Badaya’s suspicious look vanished, replaced with smug assurance. Others reacted with obvious relief or cheerful smiles, though the delayed reactions allowed Geary to easily see that some others took the news either stoically or with some worry.

“As you have no doubt guessed, the First Fleet was created for a purpose. We are to deal with threats to the Alliance before they reach the Alliance. We have been assigned our first mission in keeping with that responsibility. It’s a demanding task, but I’m certain that this fleet will be able to carry it out.” Tapping controls, Geary brought up a display of far-distant but recently familiar space. “You all know this area. Part of the Syndic border facing the alien race we fought. The Alliance needs to know more about these aliens. A lot more. Especially how big a threat they might pose to us. So we’re going back there, and this time we’re entering alien space and getting some answers.”

The smiles were faltering, shading into surprise and some concern. “How big a threat can they be?” Captain Armus asked, his broad face set into its usual slightly stubborn and slightly challenging expression. “We beat them.”

Desjani answered. “We surprised them. But they demonstrated some impressive maneuvering capabilities. We want to be sure that we keep surprising them and that they don’t spring any more surprises on us.”

Geary nodded. “Don’t forget about the hypernet gates. The aliens tricked us there so successfully that they might have eliminated most of the human race.”

Commander Neeson had brightened at Desjani’s words. “If we can find out how their maneuvering technology works, it would give us a huge advantage if the Syndics try anything else.”

Commander Shen looked around the table. “I know that this fleet destroyed many alien warships in the engagement at Midway. How rapidly could they recover from such a blow?”

“We have no idea,” Geary replied. “We don’t know how powerful the aliens are, how many star systems they occupy, what sort of population they can call on, or any other information vital to evaluating the threat they pose.”

“But we are going to fight them?”

“Our objective is to establish contact and to learn. We’ll fight only if necessary.” He saw the variously time-delayed reactions to that statement appear, oddly mixed in with reactions to his previous announcements. “It’s true that the aliens showed no interest in negotiating last time we met them, but we kicked them back into their own territory when we fought. They may react a little differently this time, if only out of respect for our own ability to inflict damage on them.”

Captain Parr of the battle cruiser Incredible, who had been having the good grace to look a bit chastened because of his earlier involvement in the movements toward Ambaru station, now grinned. “They know now that we’re not as easy to fool or fight as the Syndics were.”

A comment from Captain Casia of Conqueror regarding some earlier statement finally arrived. “It appears the Alliance has no fear of attack now, Admiral Geary, if it is sending us all out so far from its own territory. Will there be nothing left in Alliance space to guard it but system defense forces?”

He answered that immediately, knowing others must be curious about the same thing. “You’ve probably heard that most warship construction has been canceled. But a few new hulls will be completed. Those will form a much smaller fleet dedicated to defense of Alliance space.”

“When do we leave?” Captain Vitali of the battle cruiser Daring asked.

“I need to evaluate the state of our ships, how much work still needs to be done, how many personnel have had chances to go home on leave, and how many still need that opportunity,” Geary said. “But I intend taking at least another month to prepare. The crews of our ships deserve that much.”

“They deserve more time at home,” Warspite’s captain grumbled.

They did, but as Geary tried to come up with an adequate reply, Captain Parr spoke again as he gestured to the star display. “What about the humans the Syndics said were lost inside alien space? On planets and ships? Are we going to try to learn their fates? Finding out what they did to human prisoners would tell us something about these aliens.”

“Some of those humans are still alive,” Badaya said, startling everyone with the confident assertion. “I just came to that conclusion,” he added, as all eyes rested upon him. “During the . . . confusion earlier today, I was thinking about how easily we could be fooled. Easily not just because we’re all human but because those fooling us are also human. We understand our weak spots, the ways our minds work, the things we overlook, the best and most effective ways to trick other humans.”

Duellos gave Badaya a look of grudging respect. “But these aliens also fooled us in more ways than one, and tricked the Syndics for a century. Which means they have some highly effective knowledge of how humans think.”

“Yes! We could read all we wanted to about some other species, cats or dogs or cattle or fish, but we couldn’t have any hope of understanding them without studying them in person.”

Geary had to suppress a shudder at the thought of humans kept for study and saw from others’ reactions that he wasn’t alone. “When we saw the ultimatum the aliens sent the Syndics, we thought it felt like something drafted by humans. Human lawyers, wasn’t it?” he asked Duellos.

“Yes,” Duellos agreed. “That was our suspicion from the wording of the ultimatum. Now, if the aliens have human lawyers imprisoned, I would personally recommend we leave them there. We have too many lawyers here as it is.”

“They’d do plenty of damage to the aliens,” Desjani agreed. “Better there than here.”

“There are fates too horrible even for lawyers,” Commander Landis of Valiant suggested apologetically. “My brother’s a lawyer,” he explained.

“You have our sympathies for your misfortune,” Duellos commented.

“But I believe his sentiment raises an important point,” Tulev said somberly. “We are dealing with Syndics here. Questions may be raised as to how much risk we should run to aid them. Will it depend upon their being slaves?” Tulev wondered. “Or lab rats?”

Jane Geary roused herself and shook her head. “It’s possible they’re being treated better than that. Imprisoned, yes, but in, uh, a natural environment. A town or something. Because if the aliens want to study how we react to things, they’d want to see humans who weren’t in cells or labs but interacting more normally.”

“Possibly they have treated some human captives that way,” Tulev partially conceded. “But the number of Syndic citizens unaccounted for within territory occupied by the aliens is much more than they would need for such a purpose unless they have set aside a planet for such research.”

“Then we can find that planet,” she said.

“Yes. The argument remains the same. I would suggest that we must find these humans, if any live, and Captain Badaya’s suggestion on that issue may be true, so they may be freed, even if they are Syndics, or are descended from Syndics.”

Coming from Tulev, those words meant a great deal. His home world had been rendered unlivable by Syndic bombardment during the war, and all of his relatives were dead.

“Even Syndics don’t deserve that fate,” Armus agreed. “And it’s not impossible that they have some Alliance citizens, too. Their ships could have penetrated as far as Alliance space without being spotted, thanks to those worms.”

“A real possibility,” Badaya said. “Who would believe their naked eyes when sensors reported seeing nothing? And if they did believe it, who would believe them? There’d be no record in any system to back up their statements.”

“What will we have,” the commanding officer of Revenge asked, “to handle landing operations? The fleet’s normal contingent of Marines is easily overtaxed on such missions.”

“General Carabali will be with us,” Geary replied. “Along with a reinforced Marine contingent. There will be some assault transports added to the fleet to help carry them, as well as help transport any prisoners we liberate from alien territory or Syndic territory.”

Armus made a face. “Lots of Marines. The living stars help us if they go on liberty. They always raise hell planet-side.”

“Carabali’s not too bad to work with,” Duellos suggested. “For a Marine, that is.”

“Yes. She’s not too difficult for a Marine.” Armus looked back at Geary. “What exactly are we being called upon to do when penetrating alien space?” Like the battleship he commanded, Armus wasn’t particularly quick, but he had a tendency to bull through to the heart of a matter.

“We have four basic tasks,” Geary explained. The written orders the grand council had downloaded to him had helpfully spelled those out, along with the contradictory cautions. “We need to establish communications with the aliens.” He couldn’t help glancing at Desjani. “Communications by some means not involving weaponry, that is.”

“Our hell lances got their attention,” Desjani observed.

“Damn right,” Badaya agreed.

“Granted,” Geary said. “But we have to try to find other ways to talk to them. If possible. The second task is to try to establish how powerful these aliens actually are. If we can negotiate with them, it may be possible to figure that out without learning the answer the hard way.”

Duellos leaned back, sighing. “It would be nice to know how many more warships they have left. I assume we’re also tasked with finding out what other kinds of armaments they might have?”

Geary nodded. “Preferably without having those armaments fired at us.”

Tulev made a face. “At least for once the government is not trying to do something too cheaply and with too little. They are giving us most of the Alliance’s remaining offensive warships for this mission.”

Badaya frowned importantly. “What else are we going to accomplish, Admiral?”

Geary waved toward the star display. “We want to gain some idea of how large a region the aliens occupy. It’s likely that will require penetrating quite a ways into their space, which is why we’ll have extra auxiliaries along. I fully intend moving fast while scouting out the limits of alien space.”

Neeson had his eyes on the star display. “What lies beyond the borders of the space controlled by those aliens, I wonder? Other sentient nonhuman species?”

“That’s one of the things we need to learn.”

“Potential allies,” Badaya murmured.

“Possibly,” Geary agreed.

“Or,” Armus observed with a sour expression, “more hornets’ nests to poke with sticks. You spoke of four missions, Admiral. I’ve counted three so far.”

“We’ve already discussed the fourth.” Geary paused to ensure that his next point stood out. “We know that human-crewed ships have vanished in space occupied by the aliens. We know that the Syndics weren’t able to fully evacuate some of the star systems they abandoned under alien pressure. There are humans unaccounted for.” Eyes were on him, faces stiffening with resolve even before Geary said more. “We’re going to look for any signs of human presence, any signs of human prisoners, any signs of any human who needs to be rescued.”

A long silence followed, then Shen grimaced. “Even though they’re Syndics?”

“In this case,” Tulev said, “the fact that they are human takes precedence over any political allegiance they may have.”

Shen nodded. “If you are willing to say so, then I will not object.”

“Pragmatism demands it of us even if our duties to the living stars and the honor of our ancestors does not,” Duellos said. “These creatures, whatever they are truly like, cannot be allowed to think that humans can be treated in such a way.”

“Except by other humans,” Armus grumbled.

“Well . . . yes. Only we have the right to mistreat others of our species. It’s an odd moral stance, but I can’t think of a better one.”

Commander Landis of Valiant spoke up. “Admiral, I was as happy as anyone when you told us that headquarters’ message regarding the courts-martial had been canceled. But I was surprised that it ever got sent in the first place.” He glanced toward where Badaya sat, who nodded back to him. Geary had never been certain that Landis was one of those in Badaya’s faction, but now it seemed pretty clear. Still, Valiant had followed orders earlier.

He decided that the best way to form his response was by continuing to defuse the tension and phrase his response in vague terms. “Believe me,” Geary said with exaggerated sarcasm, “you weren’t the only one who was surprised.” Delayed reactions showed around the table. “Orders get given, but sometimes it takes a while for people to respond.” The double edge to that statement should keep those who had overreacted on the defensive. “And sometimes we have to deal with aberrant actions by those who should know better. I assure you and everyone else here that everyone knows better now.” He had to keep promises to a minimum because there was no telling what else headquarters, in a moment of imbecility, might decide was a good idea.

“The issue is settled,” Tulev said. “Admiral Geary has told us so.”

“Lessons learned,” Badaya agreed with a glance at Landis, who nodded back.

Geary waited for a couple of minutes to see if more comments came in, finally seeing the commanding officer of the heavy cruiser Tetsusen stand up. “Admiral, it sounds as if we’ll be spending a long time away from home in the future. I’ll be the first to admit that I don’t know what to expect from peace, and that it’s nice to have a firm idea of what the future holds after all of the uncertainties about whether we’d be demobilized quickly or left to orbit here indefinitely or whatever. But, sir, we have homes and families. Will we see them as rarely in peacetime as we did in time of war?”

He answered quickly, wanting to allay those real concerns as best he could. “Commander, it is my intention to have this fleet inside Alliance space as much as possible given the exterior threats we may face. This fleet will remain here for another month before leaving on its first assignment because you all deserve that time. To my mind, this fleet needs to be in a position to respond to external threats, not be tied down fighting those threats, and that means this fleet needs to be home as much as possible.”

It felt like the right thing to say, and it must have been the right thing because all of the other officers nodded back, though Badaya had another questioning expression.

Geary looked slowly along the vast virtual length of the table, trying to personally make eye contact with every officer. “I am honored to be given the opportunity to command you again. Welcome to the First Fleet. For now, continue with previously assigned actions. I’ll be reviewing the status of ships and making any changes necessary to ensure we’re all ready in a month’s time.”

They all stood, the motion staggered a great deal by the time lags created by the distance of some ships. Some of the commanding officers would still be standing up ten minutes from now. But as each rose, he or she saluted, then disappeared.

Most of the images disappeared as quickly as they had arrived, but one cluster of officers remained in place. Studying them, Geary saw that all were commanding officers of warships from the Callas Republic and the Rift Federation.

Captain Hiyen of the battleship Reprisal saluted in an almost ceremonial fashion. “Admiral, though we currently remain assigned to the Alliance forces, and therefore accept our placement within the First Fleet without reservation, we anticipate being ordered to return home in the near future. As the most senior officer among the contingents from the Callas Republic and the Rift Federation, I wish to extend our formal appreciation for the honor and the opportunity to have served under your command. We know that victory, and our own survival through many battles, is owed in great part to your leadership.”

The other officers saluted with the same flourish that Hiyen had used, and Geary, with a small smile he couldn’t suppress, returned the gesture. “The honor has been mine to be offered the chance to fight alongside ships and crews such as yours. I’ll always be grateful for the contributions that your republic and federation provided for the victory we all fought to achieve.” It saddened him to think of losing those ships, but given the politics roiling their homes, he could scarcely have expected the bulk of the warships making up the fleets of the republic and federation to remain under Alliance control.

The allied officers vanished as well, leaving Geary alone with the images of Badaya and Duellos, and the real presence of Desjani.

Badaya sat back, frowning. “While you spoke during this meeting, over the back channels I heard quite a few concerns being raised. Now that you’ve given the official story for public consumption, Admiral, many of this fleet’s officers have some serious questions that must be answered.”

FIVE

HAVING prepared himself for just this line of questioning, Geary simply nodded in reply. “What’s bothering them?”

Badaya gave Geary a curious look. “I trust you, of course, but I admit to also being confused about this. Why are you leaving Alliance territory? It’s obvious that the politicians are barely under control. This mess with the attempts to court-martial half the fleet on ridiculous charges is a clear sign of that. Who knows what else they might do in your absence?”

“The problem with the court-martial charges originated at fleet headquarters,” Geary said. “I dealt with it. Everyone should have trusted that I would do so.”

Seemingly unfazed by the once-again barely veiled rebuke, Badaya spread his hands. “You’re right that confidence means we have to assume you’re on top of things. But you’ve been gone for a little while, and although everyone knows you were actually putting the government in its place under cover of a honeymoon, we also understand that straightening out the Alliance is a difficult job for anyone.”

“Yes,” Desjani commented in innocent tones. “We have been doing a lot of political maneuvering for the last few weeks.”

“Naturally,” Badaya replied, seemingly oblivious to alternate meanings to Desjani’s statement, though Duellos seemed on the verge of choking for a moment as he coughed several times. “The point now is, you’re heading out. A long ways out. What happens here while you’re far from home?”

Desjani answered him again, this time speaking with flat, professional tones. “There’s a major threat outside of Alliance space that must be evaluated and confronted, and if necessary defeated once more. Who would you select for that task?”

Badaya stayed silent for a few moments. “I don’t know. I couldn’t do it. If I’d been in command at Midway, I wouldn’t have figured out what was happening in time, and those damned aliens would have hurt us very badly and won the star system. As good as you are, Tanya, and you, Roberto, I don’t think you would have done so, either. Not on your own.” He sat back, rubbing his chin, his eyes going from Geary to Desjani. “Some tasks can be delegated, but when it comes to fleet operations . . .”

“Admiral Geary has no equal,” Desjani finished, acting as if she were oblivious to Geary’s discomfort at the statement. “There are messes inside the Alliance, political messes, which others can contain and control. But the threats outside the Alliance require his personal attention. Do you agree?”

“Absolutely! These others . . . do you trust them?”

Geary thought about the grand council, the worn-out but apparently sincere Navarro, the hard-to-read Sakai, and the worrisome Suva. Not to mention the other senators he had met previously. What option did he have but to trust them? And whom did he know better qualified or more trustworthy, even if he could pick and choose? “They’re what we have to work with,” he finally said.

“The old dilemma of any commander,” Duellos commented. “You have to carry out actions with what you have, not what you’d like to have. More than one disaster has taken place when people operate as if what they wish for was what they actually had.”

“I’d say countless disasters,” Badaya agreed. “But, speaking of what we have, the ships from the Callas Republic and the Rift Federation seem very confident that they’ll be leaving us soon.”

“It’s understandable,” Duellos said. “They were attached to us for the war, and the war is now officially over.”

“But official endings leave a lot of messes behind, don’t they?” Badaya frowned again. “There are rumors that the Callas Republic and the Rift Federation are actually going to leave the Alliance, sever all ties now that they think they don’t need us anymore.”

“There’s talk of that,” Geary said. “They were always independent powers who chose to join with the Alliance during the war.”

“But to let them walk away from the Alliance now—”

“The Alliance never controlled them,” Duellos pointed out. “We don’t control them now. They have independent ground forces and space forces, and independent governments.”

Badaya made a disgusted face. “We’d have to defeat them to keep them in the fold. Civil war.”

“Or a straight-out war of conquest,” Duellos agreed, “depending on how people chose to define the current relationships of those powers with the Alliance. But either way, it would be the sort of action for which the Syndicate Worlds have long been notorious.”

“They’re not worth that kind of stain on our honor,” Badaya grumbled. “You made a good decision to let them go if they want, Admiral.”

Duellos coughed slightly, probably covering up another laugh, as Geary nodded to Badaya as if he had indeed decided what would happen. “The departure of those ships will leave a hole in the fleet,” Geary said, “but nothing we can’t handle. It’s not as if we could keep them by force in any event. I’ll miss having them, but I don’t want to go into battle alongside people who are only on our side because we have guns at their backs.”

He paused, watching Badaya. As difficult a problem as Badaya could pose, he was also a decent commanding officer with a quick mind. He was also, as far as Geary could tell, honorable enough except for his willingness to act against the government of the Alliance. But even that willingness Badaya justified by believing the Alliance government had become too corrupt and no longer representative of the people of the Alliance. And I hate even misleading people like Badaya about my role now. I hate lying to them even worse. If I can walk them toward accepting the government now . . . “In the long run, the government has to be trusted again.”

“You have no disagreement from me on that,” Badaya said.

“That’s another reason why it’s important for me to not be home too much,” Geary continued, wondering what was inspiring these words. Maybe his ancestors had given him the arguments he needed to make. “We can’t have people believing that I’m the only who can do things, that I have to be in charge. I can’t be indispensable because I do make mistakes, because I can’t be everywhere, and because the day always comes when all of us leave our lives and join our ancestors. The Alliance can’t be dependent on me.”

“This fleet,” Duellos suggested, totally serious now, “recalled much of its past honor with your example. Perhaps there’s hope for the government, too.”

“Politicians don’t change their stripes that easily,” Badaya said. “But you’re right, Admiral. Absolutely right. The citizens have to vote in a government worthy of the name. It’s their responsibility. It’s like being in command of a ship. You’re important. Your decisions are important. But if you die, and the remaining officers can’t keep that ship going because you’ve never prepared them for that, then you’ve failed in one of your most important duties.”

“Exactly,” Geary said. “Does that mean the questions you had are now answered?”

“You answered some that I hadn’t thought to ask.” Badaya stood up and saluted. “Oh, and congratulations to you two, if I can step outside of formal bounds for the moment.” He beamed at Desjani. “And you did it by the book! Not a rule broken! I hope that you had plenty of time for more than politics on your honeymoon!” Winking broadly, Badaya vanished.

“I am going to kill that oaf someday,” Desjani announced.

“Make sure you do it by the book,” Duellos suggested, then looked to Geary. “You made a good point about not wanting to be indispensable as far as the Alliance is concerned. Now that you have a long-term command, you might want to consider what happens if we lose you as fleet commander.”

Geary sat down, resting his head in one hand, feeling immensely tired after recent mental and emotional strains and wanting nothing but to relax for a little while. “I do need to designate a formal second-in-command.”

“You can’t pick just anybody,” Desjani said.

Duellos nodded in agreement with her. “Seniority and honor, Admiral. That’s how we’ve been doing command for a while.”

“When Bloch designated you as acting fleet commander,” Desjani added, “you weren’t just Black Jack. You were also by a wide margin the most senior captain in the fleet based on your date of rank a century ago. And even then you had some who were willing to contest the validity of your date of rank. Remember?”

“There’s a lot about that period that I’d be happy to forget,” Geary replied. “Who is next most senior in this new fleet?”

“It might be Armus,” Duellos said, his brow furrowing in thought. “But even if he were, battleship commanders often stood aside or were cast aside when such issues arose.”

“Tulev might be the most senior battle cruiser captain,” Desjani said, her own expression brightening. She tapped her personal unit several times, then her smile faded. “No. He’d be third in line. You’re eighth in line, Roberto.”

“And you would be seventh in line,” Duellos acknowledged with a slight bow in her direction. “I always respect my elders.”

“Go to hell,” Desjani replied without any heat.

“Who’s senior to Tulev?” Geary asked.

“Badaya is number two and number one is . . . Vente on Invincible.”

“Ancestors preserve us.” A familiar headache was threatening to make another appearance.

Duellos rubbed his chin. “Badaya wouldn’t simply accept Vente. He would try to get the rest of the fleet’s captains to back him as commander. Which would create quite a problem if he succeeded. And Badaya probably would succeed since Vente is new and needs to build up support.”

“But how can I get Badaya to not object to my designating Tulev as second-in-command, and commander if I’m killed?” The silence that answered Geary’s question confirmed his worries. “I haven’t even started organizing this fleet, and I’ve already got a major organizational problem.”

“Just wait until you get the organization order from fleet headquarters,” Desjani said cheerfully. “They’ll tell you exactly where everyone and every ship and everything is supposed to go.”

The headache was definitely here now. “And exactly why do you find that funny, Captain Desjani?”

“Because fleet headquarters always sends out detailed organizational orders,” Duellos explained, “and operational commanders always completely ignore them. It’s not practical to have someone scores of light years away trying to decide which ships go together and how many should be in each division or squadron, and how crews should be distributed, and exactly which ship and which department and which stateroom should be occupied by Lieutenant Generic Average Officer after his original ship got shot out from under him, but that’s never stopped headquarters from trying.”

“They send out their extremely detailed message,” Desjani added, “and periodic updates and corrections and additions and addenda—”

“Not to mention appendices and annexes,” Duellos said.

“—and headquarters thinks that every particle in the universe is aligned just as they’ve mandated. That makes headquarters happy. We ignore their message, so we can actually do our jobs, and that makes us happy.”

“No wonder the war lasted a century,” Geary said.

“Headquarters no doubt deserves considerable credit for that,” Duellos agreed. “How to get Tulev accepted as your successor, in the unfortunate event that becomes necessary, is a real matter to deal with. Alternately, we try to figure out how to make sure Badaya will act responsibly. Frankly, that may be the better option since bypassing Badaya will be very difficult. Those are real matters of concern; but when the organizational message arrives, you may read a little of it, then hit the delete button, happy to know that you need not do anything it says.”

“Great. Thanks for helping to keep a lid on things when that stupid court-martial message came in.”

Duellos nodded again but lost his amused look. “That was a very serious piece of stupidity. Someone with much seniority and little brains almost did a lot of irreversible damage.” He stood up and shrugged. “Why should that surprise me? My congratulations as well to you both. May the living stars shine on your union.”

After Duellos had left, Desjani stood up, sighing. “I suppose we shouldn’t stay alone in here for any longer than necessary. I thought you handled everything pretty well. Will you be using this compartment for any follow-up meetings with individual officers?”

He hesitated. “I’d been planning on using my stateroom . . .”

“Using this compartment instead of your stateroom will convey a message in itself,” she suggested. “Assuming you wish to convey disapproval of recent actions by anyone in particular. Especially if they’re related to you.”

“Why do I even pretend that you don’t always know exactly what I’m doing?” Geary asked.

She just smiled and left.

Bracing himself, Geary called Dreadnaught’s commanding officer. “I need a private conference with you.”

It only took a couple of minutes for Jane Geary’s image to reappear. “Yes, Admiral?” she asked, betraying no sign of discomfort.

He didn’t ask her to sit down. That, like the choice of this room over his stateroom, would also send a message. “Captain, after reviewing the communications records, I’m concerned about your recent actions.” He had chosen to say it that way to keep Desjani out of it, to prevent implying that he was acting because of what she had reported. “To be specific, I don’t understand why you acted as you did.”

Jane Geary’s voice and expression both reflected composure. “I acted as I thought best, Admiral.”

“You had orders from me that all ships were to remain on station. Not only did Dreadnaught leave her assigned orbit, but you encouraged other ships to do so as well.”

“Under the circumstances, I thought it wise to ensure that pressure was maintained on those who had created the crisis.”

“Even though you had orders from me to the contrary?” He heard the disbelief edging into his voice, knew he was beginning to sound angry and didn’t bother trying to hide it.

“Comms can be faked, Admiral.”

“You were speaking with Captain Desjani, who was conveying orders I had given to her in person.”

“Her comms could have been altered en route to us as well,” Jane Geary explained. “You were both under control of outside forces.”

Something had happened to her. But what? Geary sat down, leaving her standing. “Captain Geary,” he said, using the formal title to emphasize his words, “I was speaking to members of the Alliance government. They are not outside forces. I want to be clear about my reasons for unhappiness. I am concerned not just because my orders were disobeyed but because of how you acted. From the first time I saw you in action, defending Varandal, I was impressed by your judgment and restraint. You did not act recklessly or impulsively.”

Those words got some response, something flickering in her eyes as her mouth tightened slightly. “I took what actions seemed required by the situation,” Jane Geary said. “Just as you always have, sir. I was selected to command a battleship, not a battle cruiser, but that does not mean I lack the spirit of a Geary.”

He couldn’t help a small frown of puzzlement. “No one’s ever questioned that.”

Her eyes met his. “Yes, Admiral, they have.”

The past slammed down between them again, like an invisible wall that forever divided Geary from his surviving relatives. Tell her I don’t hate you anymore. Michael Geary’s last words to him. To those who came after him, Black Jack Geary had been the impossible-to-equal, and impossible-to-escape, symbol of his family. His relatives had grown up fated to serve in the fleet because of their supposedly dead and supposedly heroic ancestor. “Jane, I have told you before this that I consider you one of the better commanding officers in this fleet. That includes all of my battle cruiser commanders. You’re one of the best.”

“Thank you, sir.”

She didn’t believe him. What had changed for her while he had been gone? “I want the officer I saw defending Varandal. Forget Black Jack. I want you to be Jane Geary.”

“Yes, sir.”

Damned military formality. When all else failed, it offered the perfect hiding place for real feelings and thoughts. Geary leaned back, tapping the table. “Sit down please, Jane. I have to confess that I thought you’d leave the fleet and get on with your life now that the war’s over.”

She sat but still seemed rigid. “Not every mission is over,” Jane said quietly.

“If Michael still lives, I’ll find him.”

“You have plenty of other jobs, Admiral. I can do that one.”

“Is that why you’re staying in the fleet? To search for Michael?”

Jane hesitated. “There are a number of reasons.”

“You’ve done your part,” Geary urged her. “I’m stuck here. You can do something else.”

“I’m a Geary.” She said it in a low voice, but the force behind the words carried clearly. “More so than ever.”

He stared at her, unable to find words for a long moment. “Let’s just be clear that I believe that you have a right to your own life. Don’t stay in this fleet because of me. I’ve done enough damage to the family. But if you do stay, I need to know that I can count on you.”

“You can count on me.” She watched him steadily, no wavering in her eyes.

“I have always known that.” This wasn’t going anywhere. “Jane, as your commanding officer, I hope you will keep me informed of any matters that might impact on your ability to continue serving as well as you have in the past. As your uncle, I hope you will feel free to speak with me on any matter.”

Jane didn’t reply for a long moment, then shook her head. “I’m older than you are, Uncle. You spent a century not aging.”

“I’ve been making up for it since being recovered from survival sleep. With everything that’s been happening, I think I’ve been aging a few years every month.” The attempt at humor didn’t change her expression, so Geary gestured to her. “That’s all I had to say.”

“Thank you.” She stood once again, saluted even though the meeting had become informal, then her image vanished, leaving Geary glowering at the space where she had been. What the hell? “I’m a Geary.” That’s what she ran away from all her life. Why is she embracing it now? And how would that—

Damn. Is she embracing the legend? Does she now think she has to live up to that? I can’t live up to that.

She can’t be thinking she has to be like Black Jack.

But what Jane Geary had Dreadnaught do during that mess over the courts-martial. Isn’t that what the myths say Black Jack would have done?

Please let me be wrong. The last thing this fleet needs is that mythical Black Jack.

FINALLY free to hide in his stateroom for a few minutes, Geary found himself too restless to sit there. He decided to take a walk around the ship. As he went through the familiar passageways, he felt a lightening of his spirit. Dauntless had been built to as austere a scheme as Ambaru station’s new sections, but the battle cruiser had something the station did not. Dauntless felt like home.

He wasn’t surprised to encounter Tanya, walking steadily along, checking out everything on her ship. Dauntless had probably been a beehive of activity before she arrived, with everyone striving to ensure that not a single speck of dust marred any surface and not a single item was out of place or functioning at less-than-optimum levels. “Good afternoon, Captain Desjani.”

“Good afternoon, Admiral Geary,” she returned in the same tones, as if they had spent the last few weeks just working side by side as usual.

He fell in beside her as they walked, being careful to maintain a distance between them. This was her ship, and the crew would surely note any unprofessional familiarity. “It’s odd. Being back in my stateroom, I started to feel like everything in the previous weeks was some kind of dream.”

She raised one eyebrow at him, then brought up her left hand, holding it straight up with the back facing him so that the new ring on it glinted clearly. “I don’t usually acquire jewelry in my dreams.”

“Me, neither.”

“Something has you on edge. How did your individual meeting go?”

“Well enough, but odd.” He got another questioning look as he described his meeting with Jane Geary. “I don’t know what’s gotten into her. Jane made it clear when I first talked to her that she only joined the fleet because she had to, because she was a Geary. The war’s over now. She’s done her duty, and then some. There’s nothing holding her to the fleet.”

“Something is holding her to the fleet.”

“I told her she was free to leave, to get on with her life.”

Desjani smiled wryly. “Life isn’t usually what we plan. Whatever Jane Geary once thought she’d be, she’s spent her adult life as a fleet officer. Maybe she’s finally realizing that this has become her life. Maybe she no longer knows what else she wants to do. And maybe . . .”

“Maybe what?” Geary asked.

“You’ve told me about your family issues, how they felt about Black Jack.” Desjani bit her lower lip before saying more. “Maybe part of her was not being Black Jack, because she could hate him and think he was nothing actually worth emulating. But now she knows the real Black Jack.”

“Black Jack was never real.”

“Are you always going to be in denial about that? The point is, Jane Geary may be trying to figure who she wants to be now. Not just ‘not Black Jack.’ Something else.”

He grimaced. “That’s what I’m worried about, that she might want to be more like the imaginary Black Jack. Not like the real me. I wish she’d talk to me about it. I’m going to go talk to my ancestors. Maybe they’ll offer some understanding.”

“Have fun and say hi to them for me,” Desjani said. “I need to finish looking over the ship. I’ll go down to the worship spaces after that. To give thanks,” she added with a meaningful look at him, “for all that has gone well and all that could have gone much worse.”

“Message noted, Captain Desjani.” They were together, even if that togetherness would be severely limited, and only a fool wouldn’t give thanks for worst cases that had been averted today.

THE organization message from fleet headquarters had arrived just as Desjani and Duellos had predicted, one week after Geary had assumed command of the fleet and four days after he had organized the fleet himself. He hadn’t been sure how much the other two might have been joking about the nature of headquarters’ micromanagement, but couldn’t resist a grunt of disbelief at the size and detail of the message. Put Inspire and Leviathan in the same battle cruiser division? Why the hell would I do that since it would mean Duellos and Tulev would both be in the same division instead of leading their separate divisions as they’ve done so well? Why scramble the battleship divisions instead of keeping the ships with the comrades they’ve been working with for a while?

No further promotions had been approved. Not the ones Geary had proposed, and none based on length of service or heroic actions or new assignments. With the end of the war and the freezing of the fleet’s size, officer promotions had skidded to an abrupt halt, a standstill all the more jarring for the officers nowadays, who had been accustomed by constant and serious battle casualties to expect promotions as fast as other officers were killed in action and needed to be replaced. Aside from the Alliance’s apparent need to keep promoting him to admiral, and Carabali’s promotion from colonel to general, no one else had been approved for higher rank, not even Lieutenant Iger. “Unfair” was the mildest way of describing it, but the system had been carefully designed so that promotions were never guaranteed, so there were no legal grounds for fighting the lack of promotions. Geary wondered how long it would be before his officers began chafing at the sudden halt to upward mobility and the apparent failure of the fleet to any longer recognize superior performance with higher rank.

And they would be looking to him, wondering why he didn’t fix things and get promotions going again. Field promotions. Maybe headquarters forgot to restrict my ability as fleet commander to promote officers in the field for exceptional performance. But I’ll have to make a bunch of those all at once because once I do it the first time, headquarters and the government will realize that loophole still exists.

He paged down deep in the message and saw the crew lists. Sure enough, every man and woman, officer and enlisted, was assigned by ship, duty, and berthing compartment or stateroom. Can I really just ignore this? He wondered for the first time about the fleet status reports that went out when the fleet was in home space. He knew the reports he received from each ship were accurate, but what got forwarded to headquarters?

Desjani blinked at the question after he called her. “It’s a simulation,” she explained. “You don’t have to do a thing. The fleet database is set to automatically generate a simulation based on headquarters messages like that one. It gets updated by real data when necessary, like combat losses and damage, but administratively it’s an alternate universe that gets fed back to headquarters to keep them quiet. Didn’t you do that a century ago?”

“No.” Should he be horrified? Or thankful that a cure for bureaucratic meddling had been discovered by the operational forces? “Why hasn’t headquarters figured out what’s happening?”

“They know it’s happening. Of course, operational units are so far away, it takes headquarters a while to figure it out. Then they tell us to do what we’re told and stop running the simulation, and the simulated fleet agrees and tells them everything is fine. After a while, headquarters figures out they’re still hearing from the simulation and tell us again, and the simulated fleet agrees again. And so on and so on. Officers at headquarters vow to change the system, but if any of them ever get out with the operational forces, their perspective changes.”

It made sense, but it could also be an enormous practical joke on him. Geary studied her intently, looking for any sign that Desjani was pulling his leg. “Nobody ever talks about it?”

“We don’t have to talk about it much. It’s all automatic on our end though I guess headquarters devotes a lot of effort to telling our simulated fleet how to behave. Haven’t you heard anyone talk about the Potemkin fleet? I don’t know where the name came from, maybe it was the name of whoever first designed the system or maybe it was a name someone found in a database that seemed to fit. The point is, it means the fleet that headquarters wants to see, so that’s what we show them. We follow operational orders, of course, but the micromanagement of everything else is just ignored.”

After he had ended the conversation, Geary still spent a few minutes staring at the message. Despite Desjani’s ease with the situation, part of him still revolted against the idea of feeding headquarters a lot of simulated data. But then he took another look at the detailed instructions, focusing on one line pertaining to one officer on one ship. Ensign Door should make reports twice each week to his department head Lieutenant Orp on his progress in qualifying as an emergency damage repair party leader per fleet instruction 554499A. Should Ensign Door fail to make adequate progress, reports documenting his shortfalls should be prepared weekly using form B334.900 . . .

Geary deleted the message from his queue.

Naturally, it was only the first of many from fleet headquarters.

The next arrived the following day in the form of a high-priority alert flashing an angry demand for attention. That alone gave Geary a bad feeling since he was busy reviewing the readiness state of the ships assigned to the First Fleet. With a sigh of resignation, he tapped receive, seeing the image of the new chief of fleet headquarters for the Alliance, Admiral Celu, appear standing before him. Celu had a strong chin, which she jutted out as if challenging Geary.

“Admiral Geary, we are in receipt of reports that indicate that you do not intend proceeding on your assigned mission for thirty standard days after assuming command. This mission is of the highest priority to the security of the Alliance. You are directed to move up your intended date of departure by a minimum of two weeks. You are to acknowledge receipt of this message and respond with your intended date of departure as soon as possible. Celu, out.”

Not even a polite and proper “to the honor of our ancestors” at the end of the message. And not a simple text message or even a video headshot to convey the short message, but a full-body image plainly intended to impress or intimidate. At one time it would have driven home to him the need to comply with an order whether he thought it wise or not. But in the last several months, he had done a lot of operating without the benefit of senior guidance, faced down plenty of opponents doubting his authority, and sent far too many men and women to their deaths on his orders during battle. His own perspective had shifted quite a bit, and actions aimed at pleasing his superiors even at risk to his subordinates had even less appeal than they had once had. Having confronted more than one collapsing hypernet gate, the image of an admiral standing before him held far less impact by comparison.

Geary paused the message to look Celu over. A very nicely cut uniform. Many decorations. Something about the image reminded him of the Syndic CEOs he had seen in their perfectly tailored suits. A certain cast to her expression, which, together with the tone she had used, made Geary willing to guess that Celu was the type of officer known as a “screamer” to subordinates, the sort of commander who thought that volume of voice and anger were the only two essential components of leadership.

Celu clearly intended to establish her relationship with Geary as commander and subordinate. He had no problem with that. It was only her due, and the chain of command had to be respected, but he didn’t like the way she was doing it. He never had liked headquarters, which even in his time too often had seemed to consider itself a self-licking ice-cream cone whose existence justified itself by existing and making demands on the warships it was supposed to be supporting. Apparently, that had worsened significantly during the long war as a gap had grown between headquarters staff and the operational officers.

So now Geary paused, thinking. A way existed to avoid moving up the date of the fleet’s departure despite that explicit order from Celu. Or a way had once existed, anyway. He called up fleet regulations, searching for the right phrase, and smiled when it popped up. Ultimate responsibility for the safety of ships and personnel, and for successful completion of assigned tasks and missions, rests with the commanding officer. It is the duty of the commander to take into account all potential factors when implementing orders.

Over a century ago, Geary and his fellow officers had called that the “you’re screwed” regulation. Obey an order when some of “all potential factors” might have made obedience unwise, and it was the fault of the commander in the field. Disobey an order when some of “all potential factors” made such disobedience wrong, and that was also the fault of the commander in the field. He shouldn’t have even wondered that a regulation designed to shield higher authority from fault would have been removed at any point.

But he could use it against higher authority. He could respond to these orders with a very detailed report laying out all of the potential factors that justified what he believed to be a necessary delay in beginning the mission. More repairs, more supplies to be brought in, crew members on leave who wouldn’t be reporting back early unless emergency recalls were sent out. Drafting such a justification would require his full attention for at least a day, and there would be no guarantee that anyone at headquarters would read beyond the executive summary at the beginning and no guarantee that headquarters would pay attention to any arguments contradicting its own chosen version of reality.

But he couldn’t lie, either. A Potemkin fleet might be all well and good when dealing with purely administrative matters, but lying about the fleet’s readiness status and when it was leaving on a mission would be criminally deceptive.

All potential factors. New officers used to complain that there was no way to describe all potential factors, and we’d laugh and tell them that was the whole idea of the regulation. All . . . Potential . . . Factors.

I’ve never really taken advantage of being Black Jack, the popular hero. But I’ve never liked people like Celu. And I have a lot of other things I should be doing besides justifying my decisions to a bunch of bureaucrats at headquarters. I will not screw the crew members who are taking leave now and earned that leave in plenty of battles. Nor will I rush a mission that requires substantial preparation.