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.”
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