Guardian

Twelve

There was almost nothing at Padronis.

The fleet came out of jump space prepared for surprises, for threats, and found only two ships in the star system.

Under normal circumstances, even that would be surprising. A white dwarf star, Padronis had no companions in space, no planets or asteroids in orbit. White dwarf stars slowly accumulated helium in their outer shells, causing them to go nova at wide intervals. If anything natural had once orbited Padronis, it had been blown away long before humans reached this part of space.

The formerly Syndic light cruiser that had mutinied was trucking at a good rate toward the jump point for Heradao, already far from where Geary’s warships had arrived. The light cruiser’s crew clearly wanted nothing more to do with fighting the Alliance.

The abandoned Syndic station they had seen when last passing through Padronis was still here, circling in lonely orbit about the star, which would someday in the distant future blast it apart. That’s where the other ship was, a single freighter docked to the emergency rescue station the Syndics had built at Padronis over a century ago, before the hypernet, when ships had to jump from star to star to get anywhere, including stars with nothing at them like Padronis. The station had been decommissioned decades ago, everything shut down and left in place because it would cost more to move it than it was worth.

“What’s the freighter doing?” Geary asked. Nothing else was visible in the star system even though the fleet’s sensors were looking for anything, even the tiniest anomaly. “Make sure nothing unusual the sensors spot gets stuck in the noise filters. I want even junk that looks like junk to be checked carefully.”

“There’s nothing,” Desjani said, shaking her head. “That freighter at the station is three light-hours from us, so it isn’t any possible threat.”

“Captain?” Lieutenant Castries said. “We’ve spotted material being loaded on the freighter.”

“Material?”

A call came in from Tanuki. It wasn’t high-priority, but Geary didn’t have much else to do at the moment. “What’s up, Captain Smythe?”

Smythe twitched a brief smile. “That freighter. He’s looting the station.”

“Looting? Are you sure?”

“There’s a very minor chance that the Syndic authorities chartered the ship to pick up equipment that they need elsewhere, but it’s unlikely. Now that the Syndicate Worlds’ government has little authority around here and a lot of other things to worry about, that freighter has come out to this mothballed, off-limits station to haul away everything and anything its owners can sell, even if just for scrap.”

Geary stared at the image of the freighter, his instincts urging him to do something. But what? “Even though that station was mothballed, it still must have held a lot of equipment and supplies that could be critical for any ship passing through Padronis that suffered a serious problem.”

“Right,” Smythe agreed. “Absolutely right. And the looters don’t care. They’re out to make some money even though it could cause tragedy for someone else. That’s how things go when central authority collapses, Admiral. The rich and powerful can still take care of themselves. It’s the people who need help who get hurt the worst. As usual.”

“Thank you, Captain Smythe. I guess there’s nothing we can do about it.”

“No. We could chase this looter off, but another one would show up after we left.” Smythe ended the call with a resigned shrug.

“Admiral,” Desjani said, “look at the Dancers.”

He looked. At Sobek, the Dancers had tried to warn the fleet of danger. At Simur, they had stayed close to Invincible, apparently because of the threats from the Syndics there.

But here the Dancers had left the confines of the Alliance formation, swooping around in a way that made Geary think of giddy elation. “They look like they feel safe.”

“I don’t,” Desjani admitted. “I can’t forget what happened the last time we were here.” The dust that had been the heavy cruiser Lorica and her crew still circled this star, a fate that had nearly befallen Dauntless as well. “Can we head for home?”

“Yeah. Let’s go. Head straight for the jump point for Atalia.”

Atalia was a living star system though a badly hurt one because of its front-line position during the long war. The fleet came out of jump cautiously again, but Geary had not really expected trouble here. Atalia was too close to Alliance space and had already declared its independence from the Syndicate Worlds. The Syndics would have had a nearly impossible task setting any traps here.

Which made it all the more surprising when combat systems sounded alerts as they arrived from jump.

“Syndics!” Desjani glared at Geary. “Two heavy cruisers near the jump point for Kalixa and four light cruisers and six HuKs near the jump point for Varandal. The Syndics must have moved to take back this star system. Don’t we have grounds for kicking them out again?”

“Maybe.” After everything they had been through, the idea of pushing the Syndics out of Atalia had a great deal of appeal despite its questionable legal basis. “That’s strange. The courier ship is still here, and near those light cruisers and HuKs.”

Inexplicably, the Alliance courier ship still orbited near the jump point for Varandal. That ship represented the Alliance’s halfhearted commitment to keep an eye on Atalia but had never offered any real defense of the star system if the Syndicate Worlds came storming in to force Atalia back into their empire. As it seemed the Syndicate Worlds had. But why hadn’t the courier ship left when that happened? Even if not threatened by the Syndics, it would need to carry the news of the event back to Varandal.

Before Desjani could reply, hull identifications began popping up on their displays. “We know those Syndic ships?” she asked, mystified.

“They’re not Syndic ships?” Geary asked as the colors on the display changed. “They’re—They’re from Midway? They hadn’t sent—Manticore? Kraken? Those heavy cruisers were still at Midway when we left!”

Desjani’s expression had hardened further. “They could only have gotten here before us by using the Syndic hypernet to go somewhere like Indras. The Syndics did do something to temporarily block use of their hypernet, and the ones at Midway were in on that trick.”

“Hold on.” Geary took a moment to think, aware that the unexpectedness of this had left him off-balance. “If they had been part of a Syndic trick, why let us know by being here when we came through? They couldn’t have expected this entire fleet or even the majority of it to be destroyed even if everything we ran into had been one hundred percent effective. Let’s head for the jump point for Varandal while we wait to hear their explanation for being here.”

When that explanation eventually came, they saw Kommodor Marphissa gazing at them. “If she is faking happiness at seeing us, she is doing a good job,” Rione commented.

“Admiral Geary,” Marphissa said, “we are pleased to see you again. Two days after your departure from Midway, we regained access to all gates on the Syndicate hypernet. The Syndicate must have learned how to temporarily shut down most or all of their hypernet. We are bending every effort to learn how they do this but so far have no information.

“We came here at the suggestion of Captain Bradamont, who told us of the captured Reserve Flotilla survivors at Varandal. Those survivors could provide the crews we need for our warships, so President Iceni approved a recovery mission. Six freighters have gone on to Varandal, accompanied by Captain Bradamont, who assured us that Admiral Timbale would do as you wished in your absence.

“We are nonetheless concerned for her and our ships and are glad that you will soon reach Varandal as well. If there is anything the warships of the Recovery Flotilla of the independent Midway Star System can do to assist you, please let us know. Marphissa, for the people, out.”

For a moment, no one spoke, then Rione shrugged. “I wasn’t expecting that. What do you suppose happened when Captain Bradamont and those six freighters got to Varandal?”

“Hopefully, they’ve been picking up those Syndic prisoners,” Geary said. “I hope my orders provided sufficient cover for Captain Bradamont.”

“That Kommodor actually seemed sincere when she expressed concern for Captain Bradamont,” Rione commented.

“Syndics are good liars,” Desjani said. “And she was probably actually concerned about her freighters. I know, I know,” she added, when Geary turned a look on her. “These aren’t Syndics anymore. Well, they’re welcome to those deadweight prisoners at Varandal, right?”

“Right,” Geary agreed. “And if these ships from Midway are only here waiting for the freighters to return, we don’t have to deal with them. They’re no threat to Atalia.”

“They are actually a defense for Atalia,” Rione pointed out.

Geary shook his head. “Another thing I never expected to see.” He tapped his comm control. “Kommodor Marphissa, you should be aware that the Syndicate Worlds launched deniable attacks on us at Sobek and Simur. We would appreciate any more information you have about what happened with the Syndic hypernet. We are proceeding to the Varandal jump point. Once at Varandal, if Captain Bradamont and your ships are still present, we will ensure that they depart safely. It is, uh, good to see you again as well. To the honor of our ancestors, Geary, out.”

“Did you have to add that good to see you stuff?” Desjani grumbled.

The authorities at Atalia were more than welcoming, falling over themselves to offer the great Black Jack anything he might need (if they had it), expressing cautious thanks for the protection offered by the flotilla from Midway (and implying how nice it would be if the Alliance made a similar commitment of forces) while also complaining that the Midway ships had, since arriving, blocked anyone from jumping for Kalixa and Indras beyond, and by the way just what were those six mysterious ships that resembled no human construction and where had that superbattleship, also of unfamiliar design, come from? Geary let Rione offer ambiguous thanks-but-no-thanks responses that provided no real information on the fleet or where it had been.

The small crew of the courier ship were also hopping with curiosity. They confirmed that six freighters had arrived with the Midway forces and jumped for Varandal several days ago. Knowing how boring and thankless the courier ship’s sentry assignment at Atalia was, Geary offered the crew a sanitized version of the report he had prepared for fleet headquarters and the Alliance government.

As they approached the jump point for Varandal, Rione asked to speak with him privately. Suspecting what she was going to say, Geary only reluctantly granted her request.

“I hope you don’t think the danger is over,” she began, standing in his stateroom after declining his offer of a seat.

Unhappy to have guessed right, Geary sat down himself and leaned back, looking at the overhead. He had been doing more of that since talking with Charban about the patterns that humans saw in things, wondering what a Dancer would see in those same shapes. Or what an enigma would see, or a Kick. But only the Dancers might someday provide an answer. “I know we’re going to face some challenges in Alliance space…”

“The problems we left remain and have likely gotten worse,” Rione cautioned. “Too many people in the Alliance think that you’re a gift from the living stars who will save the Alliance, and too many others think you’re the greatest threat the Alliance has ever faced.”

“And,” Geary said in a tired voice, “there are plenty of people in between those extremes who are playing their own games in the full belief that they are in the right. What can I do?”

“Wait, watch, and react.” She made a helpless gesture. “There are too many players, all working at their own games. Speaking of different players, I am increasingly worried about what the ships from the Callas Republic and the Rift Federation will do when we get to Varandal.”

First Dr. Nasr and now Rione. For both to mention it meant the problem was getting serious. “I have told the crews of those ships that I will do everything I can—”

“I don’t think that’s good enough, Admiral,” Rione insisted. “Captain Hiyen is extremely worried. As he put it, there’s nothing big happening, but there are constant, minor tremblings in the crews that put him in mind of how earthquakes are forecast. You may not have time to act. Last time they returned to Varandal, they waited for orders and were rewarded by being ordered to go out again with you instead of being allowed to go home, as they had every right to expect. I don’t know what may happen this time. Just be prepared for an earthquake from that direction.”

Geary nodded wearily. “As opposed to being prepared for earthquakes from every other direction.”

“Yes. I don’t like playing defense, but it’s all we have in this case. Just parrying problems as they come at us is the best we can hope for. Unless some new factor changes things.”

“New factor?” Geary looked at her. “We are bringing the Dancers back.”

“There’s no predicting the impact of that,” Rione said. “Especially since I can’t predict what the Dancers will do. They have chosen to accompany us. I still don’t know why. Maybe once we reach Alliance territory, the Dancers will tell us.”

He looked back at the tangle of wires, conduits, and cables overhead. “Someone didn’t want me, didn’t want this fleet, to come back.”

“But you are coming back. With a fleet that is still powerful. Why didn’t that statement produce any sign of satisfaction in you? Is there something you’re not telling me, Black Jack?”

“That would be a change.”

“It would. And you’re avoiding answering the question.”

“Do you know that the Alliance government is building a new fleet?”

She stared at him, showing open surprise for possibly the first time since he had met her. “Where did you hear that?”

Geary smiled, a mere bending of his mouth without feeling behind it. “I have my sources.”

“How large a fleet?” If Rione had known of this, she was doing an excellent job of hiding it.

“Twenty battleships, twenty battle cruisers, an appropriate number of escorts.”

She eyed him for what felt like almost a minute before speaking again. “I can check on that information when we get back. Were you told officially?”

“Hell, no.”

“Damn. That could mean several things, all of them bad.” Rione shook her head. “What’s that old saying? Against stupidity, the gods themselves contend in vain. I’m not even a god.”

“Neither am I. Do we have a chance?”

She paused, then smiled in a very enigmatic way. “Of course we do. Black Jack is on our side.”

He was still searching for an answer to that when Rione left.

The next day, having gone much farther through unexplored space than humans were known to have ever gone before, and having fought its way out and back again, the fleet jumped for Alliance space and home.

Varandal.

Geary felt a sense of relaxation fill him. This was home. This was part of the Alliance. His friends and advisors would warn that Varandal was full of plots by enemies both political and military, that he could not relax his guard for an instant in so-called “friendly” space, but for now he kept his emotions firmly fixed on denial and imagined that only rest and support awaited him and his fleet at Varandal.

“I hope they don’t shoot at us,” Tanya mumbled, making Geary’s exercise in self-deception that much harder to sustain.

“Why would they shoot at us?” he asked.

“Because you’re Black Jack coming back to do something. Because we’ve got the former Kick superbattleship with us. Because we’ve got the six Dancer ships with us. Because Bradamont came here with six Syndic freighters and stirred them up. Because they’re idiots.”

“Admiral Timbale is not an idiot,” Geary said, trying to salvage the last shreds of his tranquillity.

“If he’s still in command at Varandal.” Desjani gave him a narrow-eyed look. “Be ready for anything when we leave jump.”

“You know, I am the admiral here.”

“Then I respectfully advise that the admiral be prepared for any possible event when we exit jump, sir.”

Sighing and rubbing his eyes, Geary straightened in the command seat. He knew better than to point out that Tanya was echoing the warnings that Rione had given him a few days before. I didn’t think about this sort of thing when I married the commanding officer of my flagship.

“What?”

“I didn’t say anything,” Geary insisted.

“Yes, you— Never mind. We’re about to arrive.” Desjani gave him one more admonishing glance, then focused on her display.

He did the same, seeing one of the lights of jump space suddenly erupt seemingly directly in their path. There was no telling how far off the light was, no way to tell how distant anything was in jump space, but Geary had the sense that Dauntless was plunging right into the light as it dropped out of jump.

Intakes of breath by the others on the bridge told him that they had seen the same thing.

Then the welcome blackness of normal space and the lights of countless stars appeared, including the brighter glare of the dot of light that was the nearby star Varandal.

No alarms sounded as the fleet’s sensors looked around, taking in the situation. By the time Geary had shaken off the brain fuzz caused by the transition out of jump space, his display had updated to show a comfortingly routine-appearing picture of human activity at Varandal.

Until the display hiccuped, and the images of more than a dozen Alliance stealth shuttles appeared near Ambaru station. “What the hell are they doing out?”

“Ambaru must see them,” Desjani muttered, checking her own data. “They’ve got their tracking emissions on. That’s how we can see them this far out.”

He called up the data and saw that she was right. The stealth shuttles were putting out tiny emissions that normally would look like background noise within a star system. Only sensors alerted to look for particular patterns hidden within that noise would spot the tracking signatures. “A drill? Why the hell?”

“Maybe they know,” Desjani suggested, pointing to the images of an Alliance light cruiser and two destroyers only half a light-hour from the jump point. “Coupe, Bandolier, and Spearhand. What are they doing out here?”

“Heading back in toward the star,” Geary said, frowning. “And no sign of those six Syndic freighters.”

“No debris from them, either,” Desjani pointed out.

“Let’s head in ourselves. We’ll send in the standard arrival reports and nothing else while I wait to hear from Timbale.”

“And if Timbale isn’t still here?”

“Then I’ll hear from whoever took over from him.”

It took a few hours, of course. Coupe and Bandolier were tight-lipped when Geary called them, saying only that they had been carrying out special maneuvers on orders from Admiral Timbale. But there had been enough chatter among other ships and stations at Varandal to provide a partial picture of events as Lieutenant Iger pieced it together.

“The Syndic, er, that is, the Midway freighters were here, Admiral. They showed up and asked for the prisoners from the Syndic Reserve Flotilla that you destroyed. There was some sort of major flap, though. Commandos and Marines on Ambaru station, warships moving around quickly, and a lot of high-priority, highly classified message traffic flying.”

“But the freighters got out safely? Along with Captain Bradamont?”

“Sir, I’ve seen no mention of Captain Bradamont, but otherwise, yes, it looks like they jumped out a few days ago.”

When Admiral Timbale’s message finally showed up, he confirmed that. “Captain Bradamont was with them, though only I know that. If certain parties had discovered she was with those freighters, it would have caused no end of trouble, and things were bad enough as it was. She said you ran into problems using the hypernet gate at Midway, but after your fleet left, the problems cleared up. According to Bradamont, the Syndics—ah, excuse me, the people of the free and independent Midway Star System, were baffled but were certain that the Syndic government must have figured out how to selectively block access to hypernet gates, and they used that to complicate your journey home.”

Timbale, still three light-hours distant on Ambaru station, blew out a long breath. “It’s been… interesting here. I assume you’ve noticed the stealth shuttles and commandos hanging around Ambaru, waiting for me to step outside the protection of the Marines on the station. I’ve had a full platoon of combat-ready Marines following me everywhere for the last few days because I’m pretty sure at least one senior officer thinks he or she has grounds for arresting me. But now you’ve shown up, just as Captain Bradamont said you would. She got out fine, though it was nip and tuck for a while. She also gave me a rundown on what you ran into out there, including telling me about that captured superbattleship, but I didn’t realize just how big that damned thing was. And the six Dancer ships. I knew all that was coming. No one else did, though, so you’ve made one hell of a dramatic entrance. But then, you make a habit of that.” Timbale smiled to show the comment was meant as a compliment.

“I’m still in charge here for the time being. I’m glad you’re here to back me up. I think things will finally calm down really fast now, and fleet headquarters will rethink any ideas about relieving me for treason or bad judgment or just on general principles. Ah, what do you know, the commandos look like they’re finally heading home. I guess everything is fine, and we’re all friends again.

“I’m really looking forward to seeing your detailed report on what you’ve been doing. Damn, that is one big battleship. To the honor of our ancestors, Timbale, out.”

The next several days were busy ones. The fleet had to be brought into the inner star system, many ships put into parking orbits reserved for Alliance warships and others eased into orbiting dry docks for repair work. Liberated Alliance prisoners had to be shuttled to Ambaru station for processing. Reports had to be sent, Alliance courier ships racing to the Alliance hypernet gate at Varandal to bear the news of Black Jack’s return to the government at Unity and to fleet headquarters. Other courier ships, private ones leased by news organizations, also tore out of Varandal with reports that Black Jack was alive, he was back, he had rescued thousands of Alliance prisoners from the Syndics, including many senior officers, all of them men and women long thought dead, he had found new allies for humanity, he had been betrayed by the Syndics and defeated the enigmas once more, and other news reports that Geary could have done without. That Black Jack had possession of the largest warship every constructed and he would use it to either defend humanity or take over the Alliance or wipe out the Syndics once and for all or…

“A fleet?” Desjani blurted. “Some people think you’re going to build a fleet of ships like Invincible? Do they have any idea what that would require?”

“No,” Geary said sourly. “They don’t have any idea. That’s why they think I’ll do it.” They were in his stateroom, the hatch open, while Geary wondered for the thousandth time since arriving at Varandal when he and Tanya might have a chance to leave her ship, to spend at least a few hours off official property and off official duty, as husband and wife rather than Admiral and Captain.

Another message came in, and Geary almost shunted it to mail before seeing who it was from. “They are still alive,” Dr. Nasr reported with a wan smile. “We have kept the last two captured bear-cows alive until we reached Alliance space and until someone else could take custody of them.”

“Congratulations, Doctor,” Geary said. He could understand the doctor’s subdued attitude. Had they done the right thing? What would happen to those two Kicks now? Nasr cared more than anyone else because to him, they were his patients. Even while the entire rest of the fleet used the nickname Kicks, the doctor continued to employ the more polite and respectful term “bear-cows” when speaking of those two.

“I am in receipt of orders to transfer the two bear-cows to custody of the Shilling Institute.” Nasr grimaced. “They are good people. Good doctors. It is a good place for treatments of the most difficult kinds. But I do not like turning the bear-cows over to someone who does not know them. We have learned enough to keep the sedation at the right levels though there were a few rough moments even in the last several days.”

“The medical authorities will take your experience into account, won’t they?” Geary asked. “You say the physicians at the Shilling Institute are capable.”

“They are, but they are among the elite. We are fleet physicians, Admiral,” Dr. Nasr said with heavy irony. “A lesser form of surgeon in the eyes of the elite. They will listen to us, some of them will pay heed, but I fear others will discount what we say and make their own mistakes.” All trace of humor was gone now. “And the last two bear-cows may die. Not because the people gaining custody of them are evil or wrong but because humans make mistakes, even in cases that do not involve very cute creatures who do not think as we do and did not evolve as we did.”

Geary clenched his teeth, fighting down a sense of futility that he knew the doctor must share. “We did the best we could. I don’t know what else we could have done.”

“Neither do I, Admiral. I wanted you to know. Perhaps I am being unduly pessimistic, the doctor unwilling to hand his patient off to another doctor. Perhaps I am the one suffering from the belief that I know more than anyone else.” Nasr seemed wistful for a moment. “It is a great pity. The bear-cows will never know how hard we tried to save them, to keep them alive, to help them. But they think they already know what we intend toward them, and so they would not listen, not even for a few seconds. How do we explain this to others, to those who would blame us? I have already heard it. How could you have fought them? How could you have killed them?”

“They didn’t give us any choice.”

“Our records should make that clear,” the doctor agreed. “Unless people do not want to believe those records.”

“Thank you, Doctor. For everything.” Geary turned to talk to Tanya, only to hear the high-pitched squeal that warned of an urgent message.

Captain Hiyen had the fixed expression of someone facing a firing squad, that combination of resignation that nothing could be done and determination to face fate’s last throw with as much courage as possible. It was not the sort of fatalistic cast any commander wanted to see on a subordinate when they reported in. It seemed particularly out of place here, in supposed safety at Varandal. “Admiral, I must speak with you, privately and as soon as possible.”

The battleship Reprisal orbited only a few light-seconds distant, making a real conversation possible without long, awkward pauses as light crawled between ships carrying human messages. “What exactly does this concern?” Geary asked, gesturing urgently to Desjani.

“It… concerns the ships of the Callas Republic. And, I believe, those of the Rift Federation. Please, Admiral. There may be little time.”

Rione had warned him that a long-simmering pot might be on the verge of boiling over. Geary paused, thinking, then glanced over at where Tanya sitting, her whole attitude alert as she sensed Geary’s concern. “Captain Desjani, please accompany me to the high-security conference room.” Private talk, hell. He needed other ears, other minds, working with him if this involved what he feared.

And if this matter involving the ships of the Callas Republic was what he thought it was… Geary hit an internal comm control. “Emissary Rione, I need you in the high-security conference room as soon as possible.” Rione had been Co-President of the Callas Republic, and respected by the crews of the ships from that republic and the Rift Federation, before being recently voted out of office in one of the wave of special elections convulsing the Alliance’s political order. The republic and the federation had only joined with the Alliance during the war out of fear of the Syndicate Worlds, and with their populations now chafing to sever formal ties, Rione’s loyalty to the Alliance had been a serious drawback for her with the voters.

“That call was from Reprisal,” Tanya noted, as they started toward the conference room, walking briskly but not so fast as to arouse alarm among the crew members who saw them.

“Right. You can guess what this is probably about.”

She nodded with a slow deliberation that startled Geary. “They want to go home.”

“We all do.”

“Not as bad as them. And we are home, in the Alliance. Those ships are from the Callas Republic. They haven’t been home in a long time.”

“I know.”

A few minutes later, the hatch to the room sealed behind Rione as she joined them, the lights above the hatch came on declaring the room and its communications to be as secure as current fleet hardware and software could achieve, and Geary gestured to Tanya to open the link to Captain Hiyen.

Hiyen did not appear happy to see the others present but then sighed heavily in acceptance. “Admiral, I will trust in your judgment on including these others. Madam Co-President, I still call you that, but many of our people no longer trust you.”

Rione took that news impassively, but Geary could see the hurt in her eyes. “I did not write the orders that kept you here. I was called on to deliver them, but I never approved of them.”

“I believe you,” Hiyen said. “Admiral, to put it bluntly, I have the sad duty to report that mutiny is imminent on the ships of this fleet from the Callas Republic and, I believe, on those from the Rift Federation as well. In my professional opinion, at any moment, my officers and crew, and those of the other ships from the republic and the federation, will cease responding to orders and break away from the fleet en route their homes.

“There is nothing,” Hiyen added, “that I can do to stop this. It is in some ways a miracle that we came this far without mutiny. But now it is inevitable.”

Desjani clenched one fist. “If those ships mutiny and take off on their own, the rest of the fleet is going to go unstable really fast. But if you send Marines to subdue the crews, or order our ships to fire on those ships, the result might be even worse.”

And, of course, Geary knew that even though he had not created this situation, the decision on what to do was his, and his alone, just as the blame for any negative consequences would be his.

“You’ve tried everything to keep a lid on the situation?” Geary asked Hiyen.

“Everything except mass arrests,” Captain Hiyen replied heavily. “I fear attempting that would cause the entire situation to go nova.”

“He’s right,” Rione said, her voice quiet but full of certainty. “We can’t contain this any longer.”

“But Captain Desjani is right,” Geary said. “If I just let those ships head for home, every other sailor and Marine in this fleet is going to start wondering about taking decisions like that into their own hands. A lot of them don’t want to mutiny, they want to be fleet, but they’re feeling badly used. Trying to stop any of them by force would produce even worse results.”

“Talk to them,” Desjani urged.

“Force is the only remaining option to stop this,” Hiyen said. “They will not listen, not even to Black Jack. They are grateful to him, but they have been through too much. I will be removed from command by my crew if I try to stop them, and they will fight back if you try to stop them.”

If only Hiyen had been incompetent, a bad leader whose assessments were not to be trusted and whose removal could stabilize the situation. But Captain Hiyen was capable enough. Not the finest officer in the fleet, but a good officer who knew how to lead. Geary looked at Tanya and saw his assessment mirrored in her eyes.

“How is the fleet supposed to handle such situations?” Rione asked.

Geary shrugged. “The traditional response is to shoot the messenger. Blame Captain Hiyen for telling us about the problem, blame him for the problem, and do nothing else until everything blows up.”

Desjani nodded and bared her teeth in a humorless smile. “At which point, we blame Captain Hiyen’s subordinates, the most junior ones possible, for the entire problem.”

“We cannot stop the explosion,” Rione said. “What can we do to… minimize its effects? To… what is the right word… redirect it?”

Hiyen shook his head in despair. “You cannot redirect a mutiny, Madam Co-President.”

Desjani leaned forward, her eyes intent. “Wait a minute. Redirect. Those ships were told to stay with this fleet by their government, Admiral Geary, but they are under your command.”

“Isn’t that the problem?” Geary snapped.

Her saw Desjani flush at his tone and knew he would pay for it later. But for now her voice stayed level. “You are their commander. Send them somewhere. Send them now.”

“Where could I order them,” Geary demanded in frustration, “that wouldn’t make them just as unhappy? They want to go home—”

He stopped speaking as he understood. “Victoria, you know those orders you brought. Can I do that?”

“I…” Normally composed, Rione had been badly rattled by this situation, but she got control of herself by an effort so strong it was visible to everyone. “It depends. You can’t just send them somewhere. There has to be an official reason related to the defense of the Alliance.”

Geary called up a display, entered a quick query, then studied the detailed information about the ships of the Callas Republic and the Rift Federation. Names of ships, names of commanding officers, status of ships… Old ships, tired ships, and tired crews. “They need repair and refit. And new personnel. Replacements for those lost in battle. Right now the Alliance is paying for all of that. Why shouldn’t the Callas Republic and the Rift Federation be responsible for repairs?”

“Admiral?” Captain Hiyen asked. “Our orders are to remain with the Alliance fleet.”

“Your orders,” Rione said, “are to stay attached to the fleet and respond to the orders of Alliance officers in command.”

“Which doesn’t mean being physically attached to the fleet,” Desjani said.

“Exactly,” Geary added. “If I tell your ships to leave, if I give them orders to return to their home space, they will be following orders when they do leave. It won’t be a mutiny, it will be obedience to orders. Captain Hiyen, all ships of the Callas Republic are going to be formed into a task force, effective immediately, with orders to proceed under your command back to the Callas Republic for refit, repair, and resupply. How soon can you depart?”

Hiyen stared at Geary, then laughed briefly in a disbelieving way. “Probably immediately. We’ve all got enough provisions and fuel for the hypernet hop back to the Republic. But for how long? What if the government of the Republic simply sends us back here? Or tries to send us back here right away?”

Rione shook her head. “Captain Hiyen, the government ordered you to follow the commands of the Alliance. You will be back in the Republic by order of the Alliance. If the Republic wants to counter the orders of the Alliance, it must first revoke the orders placing you under command of the Alliance.”

Captain Hiyen nodded, his eyes bright. “Yes. But how long?”

“What is the right wording?” Rione asked Geary.

“Until further notice,” he replied. “Proper military phrasing, proper orders, all in keeping with the requirements that placed those ships under Alliance authority.” Geary turned to Desjani. “Help me get the orders put together as fast as possible. We’ll use the boilerplate wording for detaching part of a force.”

“We can get it done in five minutes,” Desjani said. “Captain Hiyen, get the word spread of what’s happening just in case we don’t have five minutes. Admiral, you need to talk to the Rift Federation ships, too.”

“Who is the senior officer from the Rift now?” Geary asked, scanning the display.

Hiyen answered. “Commander Kapelka on the Passguard.”

It took a moment to review Kapelka’s record before calling Passguard. Kapelka had a decent record, too. She probably never would have risen beyond command of the heavy cruiser Passguard, but among the few star systems belonging to the Rift Federation, that was a substantial command.

Geary put in a high-priority call to Passguard.

Less than a minute later, the image of Commander Kapelka appeared. She was sitting at a conference table, too, and had a harried look to her. Geary wondered who else was sitting at that table and what they had just been arguing about.

“Your pardon, Admiral, for taking this call here, but it was marked for immediate reply,” Kapelka said. The stress in her voice was obvious, and that stress clearly wasn’t because the admiral had just called.

“That’s fine,” Geary said, trying to sound calm and routine. “I wanted to notify you of orders for all ships from the Rift Federation. Effective immediately, you are appointed commander of a task force composed of all of the ships from the Rift Federation. That task force is to detach from the main body of the fleet and proceed as soon as possible back to the Rift Federation for refit, repair, and resupply. Your ships are to remain in the Federation until further notice.”

Kapelka’s jaw literally dropped, hanging there for several seconds until she managed to recover enough to snap it shut. “Immediately? You are ordering us to go home immediately?”

“As soon as possible,” Geary corrected. “Your ships need a lot of work. Ensure all of your ships have the necessary provisions and fuel for the trip home before you depart, but I don’t want any unnecessary delays.”

“Thank the living stars!” Commander Kapelka looked around, though not at those with Geary. She was plainly looking at the others at her own conference table. “You heard?” she told them. “Get the word to all ships. Now.”

“You will be receiving your formal orders within a few minutes,” Geary continued, as if this was all routine, and as if he hadn’t noticed Kapelka’s reaction. “Let me know if there are any difficulties.”

Ending that call, Geary looked back at Captain Hiyen’s image. “You’ll get the detailed orders within a few minutes as well. Notify your crew and the other Callas Republic ships.”

An unexpected reprieve had occurred, a pardon had appeared at the last minute, the rifles of the firing squad had jammed. Captain Hiyen smiled in wonderment as he saluted, then his image vanished.

“Not to throw a monkey wrench into the only solution we had, but are you certain this won’t make you look weak?” Desjani asked. “Everybody in the fleet knows how the ships from the republic and the federation felt. They might well guess that your hand was forced.”

He gave her an irritated look. “What else was I supposed to do?”

“Every other option was worse. A lot worse. But do we know this solution won’t still create some problems?”

Why was she—? Because she can read my attitude. I’m so relieved that we defused this situation that I’m not thinking about possible consequences. Trust Tanya to keep me grounded when I was ready to bask in the glory of disaster averted. “It might,” Geary conceded. “How do I handle that?”

“I’ll handle it,” Rione said, pretending not to notice Desjani’s reflexive frown. “All we have to do is start the right rumors on your Alliance warships. I have people in place who can do that.”

“Which rumors?” Geary asked, wishing he knew more about the agents that Rione had scattered through his fleet.

“Rumors that Black Jack is tired of the governments of the Callas Republic and the Rift Federation not pulling their share in supporting their own warships. You’ll remember I told you that funding for upkeep and repair would not be forthcoming in the expectation that the ships would wear out and eventually be useless.”

“In the hopes of that, you mean.”

Rione inclined her head in a small nod of agreement, her expression betraying no feeling. “But you, Admiral, are unhappy with this. You made the decision that you would force the issue when you returned to Alliance space.”

“No,” Desjani put in, her voice sharp. “Admiral Geary would be primarily motivated by the mistreatment of the crews of those ships who have been allowed very little time at home since the end of the war. The maintenance and funding issue would be secondary.”

“That’s true,” Geary agreed.

After a pause, Rione nodded. “That additional reason will only strengthen your position. You have made up your mind, you have the authority, and the decision is now being implemented by you, without anyone else having a say in the matter. It’s just what would be expected of Black Jack, isn’t it?”

“I hope so. That legend makes Black Jack a better officer than I’ll ever be.”

Desjani broke off her work on the orders to glare at him. “You are better than that legend.”

“Your Captain is right,” Rione said, then faced Desjani squarely. “You found the solution. I am deeply in your debt again.”

“That’s… all right,” Desjani mumbled, unsure how to respond.

“Don’t worry, Captain. I won’t start acting like we’re sisters.”

“Good. I couldn’t handle that.” Desjani grimaced. “Thank you for the assistance you have given the Admiral.”

Rione looked back at Geary. “I’ll go do my part.”

She left, and both Geary and Desjani bent back to frantically crafting the necessary orders. Fortunately, those orders could be fairly simple and fairly short, with the bulk of them made up of standard phrasing. “I think that’s good,” Geary said. “Let’s read them over slowly one more time.” He did, spotting a misplaced word and correcting that, then looked to Tanya. She nodded, and Geary hit the transmit command.

“Four and a half minutes,” Desjani said with satisfaction. “Even with the interruption.”

“The interruption? When Rione thanked you?”

“Whatever.”

Geary slumped back and rubbed his eyes with the palms of both hands. He had a feeling Rione would be similarly dismissive if he brought the matter up with her. “That was close. From the way Kapelka was acting, her crew was about to give her an ultimatum.”

“Yup.” Desjani leaned back as well, smiling. “And Hiyen was expecting you to shoot the messenger.”

“I’ve seen that done, Tanya. Too many times. Compared to now, they were about pretty minor issues, I guess. Problems being covered up with equipment on a single light cruiser, a destroyer commander whose own officers were reporting him as dangerously incompetent, that sort of thing. Sometimes the messenger is really exaggerating or even making things up, but all the more reason to find out if what you’ve been told is true or not.”

“Are you expecting an argument from me?” She stood up. “The usual response nowadays is to classify everything so everyone can pretend nothing actually happened. Good luck keeping this incident quiet if all of those ships had mutinied within Alliance space, though.”

Geary stared at her, the mention of mutiny calling to mind past events. “When Captain Numos participated in the mutiny led by Captain Falco, that was outside Alliance space. Not too many people know about that, or exactly what led to the loss of ships like Triumph, Polaris, and Vanguard. Do you think that’s why Numos hasn’t been court-martialed yet?”

She paused. “Yes, now that you mention it. Too many details of what happened would make high-ranking people look bad. With Falco dead, Numos stands to take full blame for the mutiny, so he wouldn’t hesitate to make as big a public stink as possible. And now that Admiral Bloch is back, he sure as hell wouldn’t want word getting out about what a mess he got the fleet into.”

That news had come in, too. Admiral Bloch, released as a goodwill gesture by the Syndics along with a hundred other Alliance prisoners. But just where Bloch was at the moment and what he was doing remained a mystery that not even Rione’s sources had been able to penetrate. “If they weren’t going to arrest Bloch,” Geary said, “they should at least have retired him.”

“There you go, expecting the government to do the rational thing.” Desjani paused, then spoke light words with a spine of steel running through them. “Oh, that reminds me. When we were having that discussion about averting the mutiny, I could have sworn that you spoke to me in a tone of voice more appropriate to a chief chewing out a deckhand who had made a dumb mistake.”

“I… would not…” Geary fumbled.

“And I seem to recall that you spoke to me that way while that woman was in here listening.”

Ancestors, please save me.

Her eyes were locked on him. “Well?”

“I…”

An urgent alert sounded. Geary lunged for the comm panel as if it were the last source of air in a spacecraft losing atmosphere.

“Admiral, a delegation from the grand council of the Alliance has arrived at Varandal and wants to meet with you on Ambaru station as soon as possible.”

“All right. Thank you.” The call ended and he stood up. “There’s an important—”

“I’d like an answer, Admiral,” Desjani said, her tone polite but unyielding.

He pressed his lips tightly together, then nodded. “My behavior toward you was disrespectful and unprofessional. I apologize for that.”

She nodded in return. “Yes. Disrespectful. If you want to chew me out, do it in private. In public, treat me with the respect I have earned and deserve. You already know you should do that with me and with every other subordinate of yours.”

“Yes, I do,” Geary said. “I shouldn’t have to be reminded of it.”

“Then we understand each other.” Desjani jerked her head toward the hatch.

He reached for it, then paused and looked at her. “You’re letting me off rather easy.”

“Oh? You think so? We’ve only addressed your actions in terms of our professional relationship, Admiral. The next time we’re alone together, off my ship and in a private status, we’ll discuss your actions in terms of our personal relationship.”

Maybe I shouldn’t look forward to being alone with Tanya off Dauntless.

Oh, hell. You screwed up. Face it like a man. “After you, Captain. We’ve got work to do.”

“Sure do,” she agreed, as they left the room. “Are you going to tell the grand council’s representatives that a bunch of this fleet’s warships are going to be heading real soon for the hypernet gate and their homes?”

Geary thought about that, then shook his head. “They might try to stop it if they know it’s going to happen. Let’s save it for a surprise.”

Once more, the Grand Council had sent a delegation to see him instead of the grand council’s summoning him to go to them at Unity. Was that good or bad?