Victorious

FIVE

The drop out of jump space felt curiously abrupt, as if the jump point itself had somehow been disrupted. Since jump points were created by the mass of the star near them, Geary knew the problem was likely related to the star Kalixa. Then the gray nothingness vanished, and the Alliance fleet arrived in Kalixa.

Nobody spoke for a while, everyone staring at what had been Kalixa Star System. After a few minutes, Geary tore his eyes from his display to check the story there against the Syndic star-system guides the fleet had seized at Sancere.

There didn’t seem to be much in common between the old guide and current reality. Not anymore. The guide displayed a fairly well-off star system, one planet comfortably fit for human habitation, other planets and moons with bustling colonies in buried cities, a system-wide population of more than one hundred million, and hanging nearby the hypernet gate, which had helped funnel wealth to Kalixa.

Until that gate collapsed and released a pulse of energy equal to a significant fraction of a typical nova. Despite the anguished account of a Syndic eyewitness Geary had spoken to, the pulse hadn’t actually destroyed everything. It would have been easier to handle the result if it had. Instead, it left behind plenty of traces of what had once been there.

“Every planet appears lifeless,” the operations watch-stander reported in a hushed voice. “There’s tattered wreckage on the fringes of the areas that faced the pulse when it hit. Even the places shielded by being on the other sides of their planets from where the pulse hit have been torn up, probably by earthquakes and other shock effects. There’s only a very thin atmosphere left on the main habitable world. Apparently that’s the only reason why everything on the planet stopped burning.”

Geary had his display fixed on a magnified image of what had been a city on that planet. A few stunted ruins poking up amid the fields of debris, the landscape reduced to rock and rubble, the whole scene having the unnatural clarity of something viewed without much intervening atmosphere. “Can we tell how many ships were here?”

“No, sir. The fleet’s sensors have picked up debris floating in orbit, but it’s all mangled and dispersed. That Syndic heavy-cruiser officer reported they were the only larger warship present. Based on the damage to that cruiser, any light cruisers or HuKs wouldn’t have survived. Ships without armor and military-grade shields wouldn’t have stood any chance at all here.”

Desjani pointed to the image of Kalixa. “What shape is the star in?”

“Highly unstable, but with so much solar mass blown away, it didn’t go nova itself. Nothing is going to be able to live in this star system for a long time, Captain.”

She looked at Geary, her face hard. “One hundred million. Those bastards killed one hundred million people here in a single stroke. I don’t care that they were Syndics. This can’t happen again.”

Had the aliens known what was at Kalixa? Had they cared? “At least they can’t do it again in any star system that installed the safe-fail systems.”

“Until they find another way to do it.” Desjani, aware that the watch-standers on Dauntless’s bridge were watching curiously, trying to figure out her meaning, leaned closer to the privacy field around Geary. “The aliens can’t be permitted to think they can get away with something like this. Lakota was bad enough, but at least other humans pulled the trigger there. The aliens did this.”

“Agreed. We have to stop it.” He took a long, deep breath, knowing that the images of this star system would stay with him forever. “Madam Co-President, please ensure that Senators Costa and Sakai get a good, long look at this star system. I want them to be absolutely clear on what war using hypernet gates as weapons would have involved.”

“Yes, Admiral Geary,” Rione agreed in an unusually subdued voice.

“Captain Desjani, let’s set a course for the jump point for Indras. I don’t want to spend a second longer here than we have to.”

“I’d rather be around a black hole,” Desjani agreed.

Aside from serving as an object lesson of what humanity had narrowly avoided having happen in countless other star systems, Kalixa also dampened any excessively high spirits in the fleet, reminding everyone of the risks still to be faced and the potential stakes if they failed. Watching the reactions of Dauntless’s crew, Geary wondered how they would respond if they learned that Kalixa had not been an accident or a Syndic mistake, but a deliberate act. As revolted as he was by the loss of life and destruction in Kalixa, he also wondered if his biggest challenge might involve fending off the aliens without triggering a vengeful war by humanity. His gut reaction, that the aliens had to pay for this, would be a common one. But a price that produced more human star systems devastated like this would only pitch humanity into another endless cycle of retaliation and revenge. And until they learned more about how powerful the aliens were, whether or not, as Desjani speculated, they might have other star-system-killing weapons to employ, an attempt at retaliation could easily risk many more star systems annihilated like Kalixa had been and uncounted billions more dead. As badly as I’d like someone, or something, to pay for this, all we can really do right now is what we can to keep it from happening again and find out more about the ones who did it.

Maybe there’s something else our resident Syndic can contribute to learning more.

He had the Syndic CEO Boyens brought from the brig to the interrogation room again. “We know the Syndic reserve flotilla attacked Varandal in response to the gate collapse at Kalixa,” Geary said. “You must have known the Alliance didn’t do that.”

“No,” Boyens denied, “we didn’t. Who else could have done it?”

“You’d been facing the aliens all those years.”

The CEO gazed back at Geary for a while as if trying to link the statement to the collapse of Kalixa’s gate. “They’ve never penetrated that deeply into Syndicate Worlds’ space. In any case, we reviewed the recording of the collapse that Cruiser C-875 brought to Heradao. There wasn’t any trace of alien attack on the gate. They couldn’t have done it. But we knew you’d already collapsed at least one hypernet gate in a Syndicate Worlds’ star system.”

“Are you talking about Sancere?” Geary demanded. “Where we had to prevent a gate collapse started by Syndic warships from producing the sort of devastation that happened here at Kalixa? Or do you mean Lakota, where Syndic warships took down the hypernet gate completely while this fleet was light-hours distant?”

Boyens set his jaw stubbornly. “I’ve seen records of your ships firing on the hypernet gate at Sancere.”

“To cause a safe collapse. But if you’ve seen the records that heavy cruiser brought from Kalixa, you know that there weren’t any Alliance warships at Kalixa when the gate here failed.”

“That seems to be true.” Boyens furrowed his brow in thought, staring at the deck. “The Alliance was close enough to do it. That was our reasoning. You mention the aliens, but they never collapsed a hypernet gate in the border region facing them. If they were going to attack us, why attack us so far from their border with us?”

There was something critical going on, Geary thought after the interview was over, something far more important than the Syndics blaming the Alliance for the collapse of the hypernet gates at Kalixa and Sancere as well. Something about how the Syndics thought about the aliens. Unable to figure out what it was, he filed the half-formed idea away in the back of his mind.

It took three and a half days to reach the jump point for Parnosa. As the haunted ruins of Kalixa vanished and the gray nothingness of jump space surrounded the ships, Geary could almost feel the sense of relief sweeping through Dauntless. He relaxed, too, knowing that the fleet had a long jump ahead. Eight and a half days, almost the limit for normal jump-drive range. By the end of the next week, the strange pressures of jump space would be making people nervous and irritable, but he didn’t expect any real problems from that.

Seven days later, as Geary sat watching the lights of jump space and trying not to let the strange itching sensation that grew the longer people were in jump space get to him, his hatch alert sounded with what seemed particular urgency.

A moment later, Tanya Desjani stomped into the stateroom, looking ready to tear a hole in the hull with her bare hands. “I will not tolerate that woman on my ship any longer!”

“Which woman?” Geary asked, already knowing the answer. “And what did she do?”

“The politician! You know how she’s been acting! You’ve been there when she said nice things to me!”

Geary stared for a moment. “Uh, yes, I have.”

“Haven’t you wondered why?” Without waiting for his answer, Desjani rushed on. “I finally asked her straight out, and do you know what she said? Do you?”

“No.” Monosyllabic replies seemed safest at the moment.

“Because I’m important to you. That’s what she said. I’m important to you, so she is trying to make sure I stay in a good mood.”

Obviously, Rione’s efforts had backfired. Geary just nodded silently, not even trusting a single word for a response.

Desjani raised an angry fist, her face flushing with emotion. “It’s just like those ugly suggestions that I should offer myself to you as a prize if you agreed to become dictator! I am not a toy or a pawn to be used or controlled by your enemies or your friends! I am a captain in the Alliance fleet, a position I earned by my own sweat and blood and honorable service! I will not accept anyone trying to manipulate me or use me or toy with me just because they want to influence you!”

He met her enraged gaze. “I understand.”

She glared back at him. “Do you? Can you? Would you like to live in my shadow?”

“I would never—”

“It’s not about you! It’s about everyone else in this damned universe who would look at us and see only you! I did not spend my life to get to this point so that I could become an insignificant sidekick to anyone!”

That image had never occurred to him before, and that fact bothered him. He should have realized how Black Jack would affect Tanya’s own image. “You could never be insignificant.”

“Tell it to the universe!” Desjani waved one hand as if indicating all of creation.

“I will. I’m sorry. I come with a lot of baggage.”

“I told you that this isn’t you! It’s everyone else, and how they would see me. Or not see me.” She clenched both fists. “Why did all of this have to happen? Why couldn’t my heart listen to my head? When that witch told me her motives, I had to find someone to vent to or I would’ve blown out every seal on this ship! And you’re the only one I can—But you’re also the one person I can’t—Oh, hell!” Desjani stepped back and ran both hands through her hair. “We’re very perilously close to discussing something that you and I cannot talk about.”

“Not now, no.”

“Not until … Have you rethought it at all? Your giving up fleet admiral? Giving up command of the fleet? Have you decided not to do those things?”

“No,” Geary said quietly.

“Do I have to be the sane one here?”

“That depends on how you define sanity.”

She gave him a frustrated and angry look. “I truly did not realize … I need to have another talk with my ancestors.” Desjani straightened herself to attention, her voice becoming calmer and more reserved. “Is there anything else, Admiral Geary?”

He refrained from pointing out that she had come to his stateroom of her own accord and not been summoned by him. “No, there’s nothing else.”

She saluted with careful formality, then left.

Half an hour later, Rione came by. “There’s something I should probably let you know about,” she began.

“I already know. Can’t you see the scorch marks that Desjani left in here?”

“You seem to have come through in one piece.” Rione shrugged. “I was just trying to be nice. I don’t know why that bothered her.”

“It was out of character,” Geary suggested.

“I suppose that must have seemed suspicious.” Instead of being angered by his remark, Rione seemed amused. “She came here for comfort, did she?”

“It’s not funny.”

“No. I imagine for her it’s a bit of a torment. I really was trying to make things a little easier on her.” Rione paused. “When she cools down enough, you might find a way to tell her that I have said nothing I did not believe. Too bad she’s incapable of accepting that.”

“I’ll see if I can find a way to tell her the first thing.” So much for any idea of defusing the bad feelings between Rione and Desjani. Different though they were, they were like elements that, when combined, could form a critical mass. The only way to avoid detonations was to keep them far enough apart. “She has every right to be angry at fate.”

“So do you.” Rione breathed out slowly. “I’ll try not to make things harder for you both.”

“Why? Just because it’s important to me? I know you have no love for Tanya Desjani.”

“No, on both counts.” For a long moment he wondered if she was going to say more, then Rione spoke in a low voice. “Because the woman that I once was wouldn’t have confined herself to worrying about how well others could serve her needs and purposes. For a long time I thought I’d bartered my soul for what I believed to be important, but I’ve learned that my soul is still with me. And if you repeat a word of that to anyone, I will deny saying it, and no one will believe you.”

“Your secret is safe.”

Rione gave him an ironic look. “It wouldn’t do to have people knowing that politicians have souls, would it? By the way, speaking of soulless politicians, Senator Costa has been digging for information on you and your captain, trying to find leverage to use against you if necessary. She’s getting increasingly frustrated, probably because your fleet’s personnel won’t share any dirt with her.”

“There isn’t any dirt to share.” He wondered what lurid gossip might have been flowing to Costa if the likes of Captains Kila, Faresa, or Numos had still been in command of ships.

“Absolutely true. From what I hear, your sailors and officers have been boasting about how honorable the two of you are. Not exactly the stuff of blackmail.”

That was gratifying, but also discomforting. Granted that the rumors he was involved with Desjani had started long before they really had any basis in fact, it was nonetheless embarrassing to think of the fleet talking about the two of them even if those conversations were about how honorably they were dealing with it. “Sakai isn’t doing the same?”

“Sakai doesn’t work that way. His main leverage was supposed to be the fact that he’s from Kosatka. No one told you that?”

“No.” Desjani and most of the rest of the crew of Dauntless were also from Kosatka.

“Sakai has already discovered that won’t help much if he wants them to act against you. He’s been trying to work on your captain’s loyalties to her home world and getting absolutely nowhere.”

Geary leaned back, letting his unhappiness show. He had hoped against all reason that the two other senators would just trust him until he gave them reason to feel otherwise. “But you’re on our side.”

“I’m on the ‘side’ of the Alliance, Admiral Geary,” Rione replied sharply. “Act against that, and I’ll do what I must. I no longer expect that to happen, but don’t take my loyalty for granted. I’m not infatuated with you.” She turned and left.

Parnosa. Geary couldn’t suppress a sense of anxiety as the fleet flashed into existence on the fringes of Parnosa Star System. Six light-hours away from where the fleet had arrived, around the curve of the star system, Parnosa’s hypernet gate loomed. “Get me an assessment of that gate as soon as possible. Before this fleet gets too far from the jump point, I want to know if the hypernet gate has a safe-collapse system installed.”

To the optical sensors of the Alliance fleet, six light-hours’ distance was child’s play. Within seconds Geary’s display was updating with assessments of everything within the star system. He waited with barely controlled impatience for the one piece of information he absolutely had to have.

“There’s a safe-fail system on the gate,” one of the watch-standers announced as the sensors relayed their analysis. “It appears to be basically the same as ours.”

Geary let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. The major potential threat accounted for, he took a long look at the rest of the Syndic defenses.

“One light cruiser and a half dozen HuKs,” Desjani commented. “None of them within four light-hours of us.”

“Plus the usual array of fixed defenses.” Geary realized something else wasn’t there. “They don’t have any HuKs on picket duty near the jump points.”

“They have one at the hypernet gate,” she pointed out. “They know where we want to go from here, or think they know that, anyway. Once that HuK sees us in about six hours, it’ll enter the gate, headed for the Syndic home star system.” Desjani grimaced. “Two to one they don’t try to drop the gate.”

Geary gave her a questioning look. “That’s been one of the things I was worried about. Why not? They’ve been willing to do that before to try to stop us, and with a safe-collapse system installed, they don’t have to worry about the results to their own star system.”

“Syndic government is about corporate profits,” Desjani pointed out. “Dropping the gate here would really hit the local economy even though the gate wouldn’t fry stuff directly. That’s the incentive for the locals not to do it. But the Syndic Executive Council is certain to be ready for us at the Syndic home star system, like you said. That means they want us there, not rampaging around the rest of Syndicate space. And they want us coming through the hypernet gate, overconfident again, so their ambush can chew us up.”

“Good points. Let’s not keep the Executive Council waiting any longer than we have to.”

He held off launching a bombardment of the fixed defenses in the star system, waiting to see what the Syndics did. As the Alliance fleet raced across the outer curve of the star system en route to the hypernet gate, the HuK entered the gate just as Desjani had predicted, but neither attacks nor surrender offers came from the Syndic authorities in Parnosa, and the remaining Syndic warships stayed very distant. “We should still take out those defenses,” Desjani finally argued.

Geary shook his head. “Rocks are cheap, but our supply isn’t infinite. I have a feeling the Syndic home star system is going to be crawling with so many targets we’re going to be glad for every rock we have to throw at them.”

One day out from the hypernet gate, the Syndic authorities finally called Geary. He saw only one Syndic CEO, an older man who spoke bluntly. “I am calling on behalf of the innocent civilians in this star system.”

Desjani made a rude noise.

“We are aware that you have the ability to destroy our hypernet gate and unleash horrible destruction on everyone here,” the Syndic CEO continued. “In the name of humanity, we ask that you avoid doing so. Should Captain Geary be in command of this fleet, I address my appeal directly to him and promise not to engage in hostile acts against your ships if you will promise to refrain from destroying the gate.”

“Interesting,” Rione commented after the message ended. “He sent it on a tight beam. The Syndic warships in Parnosa wouldn’t have been aware of it.”

“Typical Syndics. Double-crossing their own defenders,” Desjani grumbled.

“Who might bombard them if they knew the locals were going against Syndic central-authority orders,” Geary reminded her, then looked back at Rione. “Why are they so concerned about us destroying their gate? When they’ve got a safe-fail system on it?” He turned to Desjani. “Could it be a fake safe-fail system? A mock-up?”

Rione answered before Desjani could. “The inhabitants of this star system have surely seen the records this fleet broadcast of what happened at Lakota, and they’ve likely heard about Kalixa, so they know what can happen when a gate collapses. Their government no doubt has assured them that the safe-fail system will prevent disaster from happening here if the gate collapses or is destroyed, but I doubt the Syndics here fully trust the safe-fail system.”

Geary nodded. “They’re assuming their government might be lying to them.”

“Is that so foreign a concept?” Rione asked sarcastically.

He avoided looking at Desjani. The fleet’s officers distrusted their political leaders. He wondered how many of them would have believed in the effectiveness of the safe-fail system if one of their own hadn’t produced the initial design. “All right, then. Do you think Senator Costa or Sakai would be upset if I handle this myself, or would they regard that as negotiating?”

“You’re in a combat situation,” Rione replied. “This is fully a matter for your action, Fleet Admiral Geary.”

“Captain Desjani, please have your communications watch give me a tight beam to reply to that Syndic CEO.”

After the circuit was set up, Geary put on his fleet-commander face as he activated the circuit. “This is Admiral Geary for the Syndicate Worlds’ CEOs and people in the Parnosa Star System. The Alliance was not responsible for the collapse of the hypernet gates in any Syndicate Worlds’ star systems. In fact, some warships from this fleet placed themselves in serious peril to ensure that the gate at Sancere caused minimal damage when it collapsed. We have no intention of causing the collapse of the gate here.” Get that off the table first. He didn’t want even to imply a willingness to employ such a weapon. “Refrain from attacking this fleet, and we will refrain from any defensive response against the people and installations of this star system.” He paused, then added something he still found it hard to have to say, because it reflected a threat that in his eyes the Alliance should never have posed. “This fleet does not war on civilians.” Not anymore, anyway, not while he was in command, and he was certain most of the other fleet officers agreed. “We engage military targets only. I know you must be aware of that from our activities in other star systems in recent months. Keep your forces clear of this fleet, do not attack us, and we will not retaliate. To the honor of our ancestors.”

Desjani shook her head. “We’re in a fairly wealthy Syndic star system, and the fleet probably won’t fire a shot.” She gave Geary a sardonic look. “In the old days, we would have had a lot of fun blowing up stuff here.”

“You mean a few months back?”

“It’s been longer than a ‘few’ months, Admiral.” Her expression changed. “But a year ago I wouldn’t have believed it if someone had told me how things would change by now.”

He almost replied, then thought about where he had been a year ago. Still frozen in survival sleep, his damaged pod lost amid the debris littering Grendel Star System. Not aware that the last remnants of the power on the pod were being slowly drained and that if he wasn’t found within a few more months, the systems keeping him alive would fail.

“What’s the matter?” Desjani appeared worried as she watched him.

“I just felt cold for a minute,” he muttered in reply, wondering if the memory of the ice that had filled his body would ever completely leave him.

She kept her eyes on him a minute longer, then leaned into Geary’s privacy field once more. “Whatever I have said or done in the last few weeks, never doubt that I thank the living stars that you survived, that you came to my ship, and that I came to know you.”

He nodded, not having to try hard to force a smile in return. “Thanks.”

Then Desjani was leaning back again, all business once more. “One more day, then we’ll see if this key still works.” She smiled like a wolf. “I can’t wait to get back to the Syndic home star system. This fleet has some debts to pay there.”

Two hours before they reached the hypernet gate, Geary was pretending to rest. Dauntless’s bridge was tense enough without him hovering there, too. He would go up in one more hour, to watch the final approach to Parnosa’s hypernet gate and make only the second hypernet journey in his experience. He had hardly noticed the first one, still sunk in post-traumatic stress, both mental and physical.

An incoming call promised a welcome diversion. “Geary here.”

“You have an incoming conference request, Admiral,” Dauntless’s communications watch officer reported. “From Dreadnaught.”

Geary stood up hastily, straightening his uniform. “Accept it.”

A moment later, the image of Captain Jane Geary appeared in his stateroom, standing before him as if she were physically present. Her expression was unrevealing, her voice controlled. “Captain Geary, requesting a personal counseling session with Admiral Geary.”

“Granted.” He couldn’t tell how she felt, what she intended saying. “Please take a seat.”

On Dreadnaught, Jane Geary sat stiffly in a chair in her own stateroom, the image before him acting the same way. She gazed at him steadily, and he looked back, still startled even now to see the signs of age on her, to realize that his grandniece had aged a few years more than he had. He’d studied her picture before, but only seeing her in person did Geary spot some resemblances to his brother. “May I inquire as to the reason for the counseling session?” he finally asked.

“Yes, sir. First off, I’d like to know why you assigned Dreadnaught and Dependable to the Third Battleship Division and placed me in command of that division.”

That question was easy enough to answer. “The Third Battleship Division had a lot of problems. Leadership, morale, and effectiveness problems. The surviving ships in that division needed good examples and a good leader. Based on what I saw during the fighting at Varandal, I believe that Dreadnaught and Dependable fill the first requirement, and you fill the second.”

Jane Geary took a moment to think about his answer before speaking again. “I understand that you have a message from my brother, Captain Michael Geary.” The words still held no apparent emotion.

“Yes. I offered to send you a copy of the transmission containing them.”

“Can you just tell me what he said?”

“Certainly.” He’d both dreaded and looked forward to this meeting, and neither feeling had yet altered. “He told me to tell you that he didn’t hate me anymore.”

Jane Geary kept her eyes on him for a long moment, then looked away, breathing deeply. “That’s all?”

“We didn’t have much time. How much do you know about what happened?”

“I’ve seen the official reports and spoken to a number of officers in the fleet, Admiral.”

Geary sat back, exhaling in exasperation. “What am I supposed to be doing here, Jane? Are you here as my grandniece or as one of my subordinate commanders? Dammit, you’re the closest family I have left.”

“A lot of us have died in the war.” She looked back at him. “Tell me the truth. Michael volunteered for the forlorn hope? You didn’t suggest it first?”

“He volunteered. I was still getting my balance as commander, still trying to adjust to what had happened. I wasn’t ready to order … to order someone to do that.”

Jane Geary seemed to slump a bit, closing her eyes. “He was all I had. You left him in the Syndic home star system.”

“Yes, I did.” He wouldn’t plead the pressures of command, his obligation to the rest of the fleet. The simple fact wouldn’t be changed by either of those things. “I still hope he survived, that we’ll get him back.”

“You know the odds against that.”

“Yeah.” A bitter taste filled his mouth. “A lot of people didn’t make it home. I’m sorry.”

She leaned forward, eyes wide, suddenly intense again. “We both hated you. Our lives were never our own. Sometimes as children we’d play a game. One of us would be Black Jack, the boogeyman chasing the other one, trying to catch him or her and drag them off to the war. You finally caught Michael, then me, didn’t you?”

“I’m not Black Jack. I want to end this war. I’m sorry for what happened to you and Michael, for what happened to all of the Gearys forced to follow in my alleged footsteps and fight. But I swear on the honor of our ancestors that I would never have agreed to what happened, to the creation of this outsize legend about who I supposedly was. I didn’t do it, but I’m still very sorry for what it did to people like you and Michael.”

Once again, Jane Geary sat quiet for a while. “Have you told anyone else about that message from Michael?”

He started to say no one, then realized he couldn’t. “Just one.”

“Let me guess who that could be.” She looked around as if expecting to see Tanya Desjani. “What am I supposed to do, Admiral?”

“Are you asking me as my niece or as Captain Jane Geary?”

“Your niece. Captain Jane Geary can maintain a totally professional relationship. I know how to do that.”

He frowned, sensing a not-so-subtle slam at Desjani. “You’re not the only one who knows how to do that.”

She unbent slightly, then. “My apologies. I didn’t mean that the way it sounded. I’ve heard nothing offering proof of improper actions by you or anyone else. But in a short time we’ll enter the Syndic hypernet, where communications between ships can’t occur. After that we may well face hard fighting. I needed to speak with you before then, because one or both of us may not be around afterward.”

“Thank you.” Geary let himself relax. “Please be my niece for a short time. I can only imagine what it was like growing up in the shadow of Black Jack and the shadow of this war. I can’t change that, I can’t change anything that happened while I was in survival sleep. But I want to fix whatever I can. You have to understand, I—” He couldn’t speak for a moment, seeing once again the traces of his brother in her. Most of the time he could pretend things at home hadn’t really changed, that even though so much in the fleet had changed, that back at Glenlyon his brother still worked and his parents still lived. But he couldn’t pretend that while facing Jane Geary.

She watched him, then seemed to change the subject. “I served with Captain Kila for a while when we were both lieutenants.”

The memories that name brought up crowded out Geary’s grief for a moment. “My condolences. That must have been unpleasant.”

“It was,” Jane Geary agreed. “Would you have shot her?”

“Hell, yes. She had Alliance blood on her hands.”

“I knew Captain Falco, too,” Jane Geary said.

Geary grimaced. “He … died with honor.”

Something in his answers had satisfied her. Jane Geary nodded again. “There’s something I have to tell you. I also have a message, for you. I hope you can forgive me for not delivering it until now.”

That had been the last thing he had expected to hear. “A message?”

“When I was a young girl, one night when we were visiting my grandfather, your brother, I found him standing outside, looking up at the stars. I asked him what he was doing, and he said he was looking for something. I asked what it was, and he said. ‘My brother. I miss him. If you ever meet him somewhere up there, tell him I missed him.’ ”

He stared at her, for a moment too overwhelmed to give in to grief again. “He told you that?”

“Yes. I never forgot a word of it even though I never expected to deliver it.” She sighed. “I should have given that message to you long before this. He always told us you were everything the legend said, you know. Absolutely perfect and the greatest hero ever.”

“Mike said that? My brother said I was perfect?”

“Yes.”

He couldn’t help a brief laugh. “He certainly never told me that when—when he was alive. Damn. He’s dead. He’s been dead for a long time. Everybody’s dead.” Months of denial crumbled and Geary slumped, burying his face in his hands.

Jane Geary finally broke the silence. “I’m sorry. I have to tell you one other thing. We never really believed in you, Michael and me. Black Jack was a myth. But we were wrong.”

That jarred him out of his grief. “No, you weren’t. Black Jack is a myth. I’m just me.”

“I’ve reviewed the records since you assumed command, and I’ve spoken to the officers in this fleet! I couldn’t have done what you did. No one else could have done it, either.” She paused, then blurted out a question. “You’ve talked to our ancestors since coming back, haven’t you? Do you feel Michael is still alive?”

Geary made a fist and hit his chair arm. “I don’t know. My ancestors have never given me a clear feeling either way.”

She nodded, seeming relieved. “Me, too. You know what that can mean.”

“No, I don’t.”

“Seriously? It can mean that a life hangs in the balance. It can mean that your decisions, your actions can make a difference, decide whether that person has died or is still alive.”

“I’ve never heard that.” Beliefs had changed a bit in a century, it seemed. Easy enough to understand, with so many prisoners of war held and no exchanges of information about them. Families would have to grasp at any straw that offered hope or information about the fates of loved ones.

Jane Geary nodded firmly. “Everyone in the family agreed about you. We’d speak with our ancestors, but no one ever felt like you were among them. I swear. That’s why Grandfather told me to give you a message if I saw you. If you were dead, he would have expected to see you first, when he died and joined our ancestors, but none of us thought you were there.” Her expression turned fierce. “We never told anyone outside the family. That legend grew up, that you’d come back someday to save the Alliance, but it wasn’t because the family told anyone that you weren’t dead. I don’t know where that legend came from. But it was true. It took me a long time to accept that.”

“Jane, please don’t. I have enough expectations put on me as it is by people I’m not related to.” He spread his hands. “It’s nice to have people who believe I’m human. It’s important for me to have that.”

She thought, then nodded. “I think I understand. But I must ask, as family, for the truth. Were you there, during all those years? Among the lights in jump space? Among the living stars themselves?”

The question was obviously a serious one, so Geary managed to avoid a laugh, which might have stung his grandniece. “Not that I remember. I can’t remember anything, really. I fell asleep, then I awoke on Dauntless.”

“Not even any dreams?” Jane asked, her disappointment clear.

“I don’t—Not that I can be sure of,” Geary corrected himself. “Every once in a while I think I remember a fragment of something. But the doctors all tell me that in survival sleep everything in the body is stopped or slowed down as far as it possibly can be slowed. Thought processes, too. I wasn’t thinking, so I couldn’t have been dreaming. That’s what they say. If anything did happen, I can’t remember it.” Geary glanced at his grandniece, uncomfortable with this line of questions and wanting to change the subject. “What would you have done if you hadn’t gone into the fleet?”

Jane Geary smiled. “Something to do with structures. Architecture. People have drawn on living models for millennia, but I think there’s more we can learn when designing things.” Her smile faded. “Michael has a daughter and two sons. The daughter will be eligible to enter fleet-officer training in six months.”

He had known that but hadn’t wanted to bring it up, wondering how those children would feel about Black Jack, the Black Jack who had left their father in the Syndic home star system. “Is that what she wants to do?”

“Maybe you’ll get a chance to ask her.”

“As long as she really has a choice.”

Jane Geary nodded. “Maybe you’ll give her that choice, at long last. Please forgive me for not speaking with you earlier. I should go now and let you prepare for operations.”

He checked the time and nodded reluctantly. “Thank you. I can’t tell you how much this meant to me.”

“Perhaps we’ll both be able to speak with Michael again.” Jane Geary stood up, then saluted in the manner of someone to whom the gesture was recently learned. “By your leave, Admiral.”

“Granted.” He returned the salute, then stood for a moment, gazing at the place where her image had been before leaving for the bridge.

On Geary’s display on the bridge, the Syndic hypernet gate loomed. The actual gate was a bound-energy matrix invisible to human senses, but the hundreds of devices called tethers, which held that matrix stable and in place, were visible in a huge ring Dauntless seemed about to thread. He hadn’t been so close to a gate since Sancere, and that gate had been collapsing as a result of having too many of its tethers destroyed by Syndic warships trying to deny use of the gate to the Alliance fleet. Remembering the way space itself had seemed to fluctuate as the gate collapsed, Geary took a deep breath to calm himself.

“No problems,” Desjani advised him with a reassuring smile.

“Captain Desjani, I only remember approaching a hypernet gate once, and you’ll recall that wasn’t a pleasant experience.”

“We survived.”

After a century of war, Geary had to admit that was a reasonable standard for success.

Desjani gave Geary a speculative look. “This is where we find out if it all works right.”

He nodded, knowing that she was referring to things they shouldn’t discuss on the bridge. All of the probability-based worms they could find had been scrubbed out of the hypernet, maneuvering, and communications systems on every ship in the fleet. Hopefully that would mean the aliens couldn’t redirect the fleet while it was in the hypernet as they had a Syndic flotilla. But the Alliance fleet wouldn’t know for certain it was safe until they tried it. “How does this hypernet gate and key work again?”

“When we enter the hypernet gate’s field, the Syndic hypernet key aboard Dauntless will activate. We set the parameters for the transport field to be large enough to include the entire fleet, make sure the destination displayed on the key is what we want, then we order the key to transmit the execute command to the gate. It’s simple.”

He nodded. “Too simple. What human engineer ever designed something that easy to operate?”

“You’re right. We should have suspected that nonhumans were involved right from the start when the activation process didn’t involve a lot of arcane commands that had to be done in just the right order, and the destination was displayed as a name rather than using some counterintuitive code. No human software engineer would produce a device that easy to use.” Desjani grinned and indicated the fleet. “You’re happy with the formation?”

“Yeah. This formation can deal with anything we encounter if the Syndics are waiting at the hypernet gate at Zevos. But that’s really unlikely.”

Desjani looked over at another part of her display. “The key has activated. Do you want to punch in the data?”

“No. Go ahead, please.”

Her hands danced across controls, then she frowned at the display. “Operations watch-stander. Confirm transport field size is correctly entered.”

After a moment, that officer nodded. “Confirmed, Captain. The field will include the entire fleet.”

“Confirm destination set as Zevos.”

“Destination confirmed as Zevos.”

Desjani looked at Geary. “Request permission to activate hypernet key for transport to Zevos.”

“Permission granted.”

Desjani tapped a couple of more times, then the stars vanished.

Geary had barely remembered what the view looked like within a hypernet channel. “There really is nothing to see.”

“No.” Desjani spread her hands. “The scientists say we’re in some sort of bubble where light as we know it doesn’t penetrate. So it’s just dark.”

Just dark. No sensation of speed or any movement at all. “How long again?”

“Eight days, fourteen hours, and six minutes for this trip. The farther you’re going, the faster the speed relative to the outside universe. It’s sort of weird, but this is a long haul, so we’re going faster than if it were a short haul on the hypernet.”

“A shorter trip can take the same amount of time as a longer trip?”

“Yes. Or more time.” Desjani waved at the darkness filling the display of outside conditions. “Like I said, it’s sort of weird. You’d have to ask a scientist to explain why, though I’ve never been sure they really understand it. They have some impressive names for what they think is happening, though.”

Even if a straight-shot journey had been possible, covering that distance by jump drives would have taken at least a couple of months. Yet at the moment, with a battle that might finally end the war looming, those eight days, fourteen hours, and six minutes seemed far too long a time. “I want this over.”

“Yes, sir. Me, too. Just remember how long it’s been coming for the rest of us.”

The war had begun a hundred years ago. Desjani and the rest of Dauntless’s crew, everyone in the fleet except Geary, had been waiting for this as long as they’d been alive.

Looked at that way, he could wait another eight days.

If the aliens could still divert the fleet, they didn’t do it. Zevos boasted a star system with two marginally inhabitable worlds, a very large population, and a lot of colonies and outposts elsewhere on moons, asteroids, and near gas giants. Not a single Syndic warship was visible to the fleet’s sensors as the Alliance warships popped out of the hypernet gate. “They’ve pulled any mobile defenses into the home system,” Desjani suggested. “Probably a lot of the fixed defenses were pulled up and shipped there, too.”

“Probably.” A Syndic traffic-control buoy near the gate was squawking at the Alliance warships, trying to direct them into proper, approved traffic lanes for progress in-system. “Diamond, kill that buoy.”

“Diamond, aye,” the heavy cruiser acknowledged. “Buoy will be destroyed in approximately thirty-five seconds.”

The jump point they wanted was only a light-hour and a half distant from the hypernet gate. Geary got the fleet on a course for that point, taking some glee in knowing that the Syndic authorities in Zevos Star System would only see the Alliance warships in several hours, just before the Alliance ships jumped out of Zevos. Since the Syndics had forgotten how to use extended-jump-range capability, they’d think the Alliance fleet was bound for another star named Marchen, which was more distant from the Syndic home star system than Zevos.

“What do you want to do about those merchant ships approaching the hypernet gate?” Desjani asked.

Despite his deception maneuvers, Geary didn’t want word of his arrival at Zevos spreading through Syndic space too quickly. He used the maneuvering display to check some solutions as fast as he could tag some Alliance units and ask for an intercept. “Twentieth Destroyer Squadron, you are to intercept and destroy the designated Syndic merchant ships. Do not pursue or engage other targets without orders. Rejoin the fleet prior to jump.”

“Twentieth Destroyer Squadron, aye!” Gleeful at getting to hammer the Syndics while the rest of the fleet just transited to the jump point, the destroyers in the Twentieth Squadron leaped forward after their prey.

Geary watched the destroyers charging off in pursuit, then went over his formation choices again. He figured the Syndics wouldn’t be anywhere near where the fleet came out of jump space at the Syndic home star system, but he wanted to be ready in case he was wrong. “Captain Smyth, I want your auxiliaries to top off the fuel-cell reserves on every ship as well as their expendable armaments. Let me know if you’ll have any trouble getting that done before we jump.”

Fifteen hours to the jump point. Ten days in jump space. All to get back to where his command of the fleet had started.