Lost Fleet 6 - Victorious

by Jack Campbell

  Very respectfully,

  John Geary,

  Captain, Alliance Fleet

  Ordering the message actually to be transmitted in ten hours, he headed out to look for Desjani.

  But as his hatch opened, Victoria Rione was standing there, eyeing him with an enigmatic look. “Going somewhere?” she asked.

  “As a matter of fact, yes. If you don’t mind—”

  “They haven’t promoted you back to admiral yet?”

  “The promotion message is probably in my in-box, doubtless along with messages containing orders for me to report somewhere and command something, but I have no intention of reading any of those messages for the next thirty days. As far as I know, I’m a captain, and I have no obligations stopping me from taking leave.” Geary gave Rione a half-annoyed, half-apologetic look. “I have to go.”

  “But there’s something we have to talk about, Captain Geary.” She brushed past him into the stateroom, and he followed, trying not to get angry as Rione turned to watch him. “Have I told you how grateful I am, Captain Geary?” she continued. “For what you did for the Alliance. For all of the things you could have done and didn’t. I owe you as a senator, I owe you as Co-President of the Callas Republic, and I owe you as an individual.”

  “That’s okay.” Geary waved one hand dismissively. “I did my duty.”

  “You did much more than your duty, Captain Geary, and that is why despite some personal issues I have regarding a certain other captain of our acquaintance, I have nonetheless come here to inform you that you have one message in your in-box you should read before you go wandering around this ship looking for someone.”

  What was Rione up to this time? “Why?”

  “Trust me. Call up your in-box.”

  Feeling increasingly curious as well as annoyed, Geary reopened his message file. “Which one of these messages is so important?”

  “None of those. The one I’m talking about is set for delayed delivery. It’s in your file but won’t be visible for . . . oh . . . another hour or so. Unless you happen to enter this override code.” Rione’s fingers danced across the controls, and a moment later another message popped into existence. “My, would you look at that.”

  Frowning, Geary examined the message. Eyes Only, Personal For. It had originated on Dauntless. He opened the file and read.

  Dear Admiral of the Fleet Geary,

  I hope you will forgive this means of communication, but it seemed the best way to avoid putting you in an unpleasant or awkward situation.

  You have fulfilled the promises once given, but unspoken promises lie between us. We both know what they are. I do not doubt your sincerity. But you have been confined to Dauntless since your awakening, confined to this ship under great stress, forced to associate with certain individuals in order to fulfill your duties as fleet commander. It was only natural that you should develop an emotional attachment under those circumstances. But, given time and freedom, you may well grow to regret unspoken promises made under duress, nor can I blame you for that.

  I will not hold you to promises that were never spoken.

  By the time we meet again, you will have had a chance to look around, to see life outside the confines of Dauntless, and to decide what you truly choose. There are many challenges still facing you. You have many opportunities.

  It was a great honor to fight under your command, and I hope you will consider sailing on Dauntless again.

  Very respectfully,

  Tanya Desjani,

  Captain, Alliance Fleet

  He stared for what felt like a long time at the message, then finally turned to Rione. “What the hell does this mean?”

  “Why do you think I’ve read it?”

  “Because I know you! What’s Tanya talking about?” Rione spread her hands. “She says it all, more or less clearly. She’s worried that sooner or later the great hero Black Jack Geary, who could have any woman he wanted, will want someone else.” Rione smiled sardonically. “Like me, she won’t be any man’s second choice.”

  “How could she think that?” Geary frowned, another question coming to him. “Why did she set this for delivery to me in another hour?”

  “I can’t imagine,” Rione replied with mock bafflement. “Did you set your message to the fleet headquarters announcing your departure for immediate transmission?”

  “No, of course not, I wanted to be gone before—” He stared at Rione, suddenly remembering something in the last part of Desjani’s message. By the time we meet again. “Desjani’s going? Where?”

  “Do I have to tell you everything?”

  He stopped to think and immediately realized the answer. “Kosatka. She’s going home on leave.” Geary took a long breath, trying to calm himself. “Why didn’t she talk first? We finally would have been able to talk about it.”

  “You read the message. She doesn’t think you’re ready to talk about it.”

  “How could she make that decision on her own?” Geary felt himself getting angry now. “I can’t believe she ran away instead of—”

  Rione’s snort of exasperation was intense enough to stop Geary’s words. “Are you planning on telling her you think she ‘ran away’?”

  He took another deep breath. “No.”

  “Good. You’re not hopeless. But you’re not thinking about what’s going on inside her. Duty and honor tell her one thing, not to stand in the way of what you need to do for the Alliance in the future. Even I have to respect her concern on those grounds. Her doubts make her wonder how real your feelings are, feelings you’ve never actually been able to talk with her about, and how long those feelings will last. Is she just an infatuation born of your isolation in this fleet? Is a mere fleet captain going to be a worthy partner for someone as powerful as you? She’s probably even wondering if you’re going to return to me now, as if I’d have you again.”

  Geary shook his head, trying to find holes in Rione’s argument. “But—”

  “And against all of that,” Rione continued, her voice sharpening, “your captain has only her own love for you, which she also has never been free to express openly and which has no doubt been a source of considerable private guilt for her when she dared dwell on it. Love needs expression, Captain Geary, or doubts grow amid the silence. Doubts of the other and doubts of yourself.”

  He took a few breaths this time, then nodded. “You left something out. She’s worried about being known as just my partner, not as herself, as Black Jack’s companion instead of for what she’s accomplished herself.”

  “Ah, yes. That’s a big one. So what will you do, Black Jack?”

  He glared at Rione. “What am I supposed to do?”

  She sighed and relented again. “What would your captain tell you to do if you were facing a very difficult decision?”

  He thought about that. “She’d tell me to follow my instincts.”

  “What did I tell you to do a few days ago concerning your captain?”

  Geary tried to recall. “To follow my instincts.”

  “Hopefully you’ll listen to one of us. What do your instincts tell you to do now?”

  “To find her and tell her how I feel, to let her know that she won’t stand in the way of my duty, that her honor helps give me the strength to do what I must, that I will always stand beside her and she beside me, and that I will never choose another.”

  “Not bad.” Rione pointed toward the hatch. “Then what are you waiting for?”

  “I’m still trying to understand why she didn’t wait around for us to talk about it. It’s the first time we’ve had a chance, so why not meet me while we’re still on the same ship?”

  This time Rione rolled her eyes. “You mean catch you in your stateroom? On her ship? The ship you’ve been confined to for months? Catch you before you can get away?”

  “That’s not—She did say something like that.”

  “Of course she did. Your captain is giving you an out, a chance to reset things, to go if you wish, to
salvage her own pride and honor without forcing you to tell her that ‘things have changed.’ ”

  “But how am I going to catch her if she’s already left the ship?” Somehow he knew that Desjani was already gone.

  Rione raised one eyebrow. “You’ve got a chance, John Geary, if you truly want to catch her. That’s what she wants to know, and you’ve got a way to prove it to her. Instead, you’re standing here talking to me.”

  Geary was halfway to the hatch before he remembered to turn back to Rione. “Thank you.”

  “Thank me?” Rione shrugged. “If my husband still lives, the end of the war and the prisoner-exchange process will return him to me. And you think you owe me thanks?”

  “Yes. I’ll see you around, Madam Co-President.”

  “Yes, you will, Captain Geary. There’s still much to be done.” She gestured toward the hatch. “Your target is getting away.”

  He headed down the passageway, then veered to the nearest comm panel to call the bridge. “Where is Captain Desjani?”

  The duty watch-stander on the bridge stared at Geary, then swallowed nervously before answering. “Uh, sir, Captain Desjani is indisposed. She asked us not to disturb—”

  That confirmed his suspicions. “Is she still on the ship?”

  The bridge watch-stander hesitated, then obviously made a decision. “No, sir. She departed on leave just two hours ago and took a shuttle to the main passenger terminal.” The words came out in a relieved rush.

  “You didn’t announce her departure from the ship?”

  “Sir, Captain Desjani ordered us not to—”

  “All right. I need one of Dauntless’s shuttles for a lift to the main passenger terminal at Ambaru station, and I need it now.”

  The bridge watch-stander looked and sounded horrified. “Sir, all of Dauntless’s shuttles are down for maintenance. It’s very unusual to take them all down at once, but Captain Desjani ordered it. The one she took was put into full maintenance as soon as it got back.”

  She just has to make it as tough as possible. Geary paused, trying to think of the next best course of action. Getting a shuttle sent to Dauntless from another ship would take time, perhaps a lot of time, and might tip off fleet headquarters that he was trying to make his own escape.

  But he didn’t have any other option. Geary was about to order that when the bridge watch spoke again, now appearing startled.

  “Sir, a shuttle from Inspire just reported that it’s on final approach for our shuttle dock. They say they have orders for a high-priority passenger transport. Is that you, sir?”

  Thank you, Captain Duellos. I don’t know how you figured out what was going on, but I owe you one. “Yes, that’s me. I need that shuttle ready to go as soon as I reach the dock.”

  He ended up having to wait a couple of minutes, though, before Inspire’s shuttle tore away from Dauntless. “Any particular dock in the passenger terminal area, sir?” the shuttle pilot asked. “It’s really big.”

  “I need a dock as close as possible to wherever a passenger ship bound for Kosatka and due to leave soon would be loading.”

  “Civilian passenger traffic?” the pilot asked doubtfully. “I can find out that dock assignment easily enough, sir, but I’m supposed to use only military docks, so I may still have to dock a long ways away.”

  “There’s no way you can use the civilian docks?”

  “No, sir. Well, there’s one way. If there’s an in-flight emergency on approach, and I need to get to the nearest dock.”

  Geary tried to keep his voice casual. “An in-flight emergency?”

  “Yes, sir, like . . . uh . . . the cabin-depressurization alarm.”

  “I see. What do you suppose the chances are of that alarm going off while we’re close to the dock I need?”

  He could hear the pilot’s grin. “For you, sir? I can feel it getting ready to pop right now. I assume we need the least-time-highest-velocity transit to the terminal that I can manage?”

  “You got it.”

  “Consider it done, sir.”

  About twenty-five minutes later, Geary staggered off the shuttle, whose pilot had indeed done an enthusiastic job of hurling his bird through space. At the dock exit, he walked past some annoyed-looking civilians wearing outfits he didn’t recognize. One tried to halt him, but Geary held up a hand. “I’m in a hurry.”

  “You still need to—” The civilian’s eyes locked on Geary’s face, and his jaw dropped. “I . . . I . . .”

  “Sorry. I’m in a hurry,” Geary repeated, rushing past him.

  There were plenty of uniforms among the crowds there, but the civilian clothing everywhere still felt jarring, not simply because of all the time he had spent aboard warships but also because the styles had changed so much in the century since he had been among civilians. The senators he had dealt with had all worn formal clothes, the sort of styles that changed very slowly and so had been close to what he had known a century ago, but these civilians were in casual clothing that looked odd to his eyes. He knew those styles were just the tip of the iceberg, a small part of the changes he’d have to deal with.

  But that could wait until he reached the right dock. If he could get there in time. He kept running into bottlenecks and knots of stopped people that slowed him down. Geary kept his head lowered and plowed toward the dock whose number the shuttle pilot had provided, trying not to notice the curious glances turned his way. But then a cluster of sailors turned, saw him, and with broad smiles saluted, while some of the other military nearby watched, puzzled by a gesture still unfamiliar to them.

  He couldn’t ignore the salutes. Geary returned them, then looked for the dock numbers nearby. One of the sailors, whose patch indicated he was off Daring, stepped forward. “Sir? Do you need something?”

  “Dock one twenty-four bravo,” Geary replied. “I need to get there fast.”

  “We’ll get you there, sir! Follow us!” The sailors from Daring locked arms, forming a flying wedge, and began charging through the crowd clearing a path for Geary despite angry and surprised cries of protests from those they shouldered aside.

  Grinning despite his worry, Geary followed, hearing in his wake startled voices saying his name and hoping he could stay ahead of any gathering crowd.

  Moments later, the sailors came to a halt, and their leader gestured. “Here you are, sir. Courtesy of the Alliance battle cruiser Daring. Are you going to be leading us again, sir?”

  Geary paused and smiled back at them. “If I’m lucky. Thanks.” Another quick salute, then he was in the waiting area just outside the dock.

  Tanya Desjani turned as he entered. She had on a dress uniform, standing out even among the other military personnel waiting to board the passenger ship. He stumbled to a halt at the sight of her, momentarily unable to both move and take in the fact that he had caught up to her, that Desjani was standing there, finally no barriers of honor or duty between them and their feelings, her face lighting with recognition, her eyes widening in what he thought and hoped was sudden joy as she realized that he was there.

  Then she was controlling her expression, adopting the formal, professional posture that he had come to know so well. “Sir?” Desjani asked. “What brings you here?” She noticed his captain’s insignia, and new emotions rippled across her face too fast for him to read.

  “I think you know the answer to that, Tanya. And I’m not sir to you anymore. I’m not in command of the fleet, we’re both captains, and you’re not my subordinate now. Just how the hell did you expect me to get here in that little time?”

  That flash of happiness showed again in her eyes. “You’ve done more difficult things when you really wanted to do them. Are you happy you got here so quickly?”

  “Happy?” Geary sighed. “Tanya, when I walked in here and saw you, I swear for a moment there was no one else and nothing else in the universe. Just you. Are you happy to see me?”

  “I—” Desjani bit off her words and started again. “If you read my message�
��”

  “I already read it.”

  “You already . . . It wasn’t supposed to . . .” Desjani looked annoyed now. “All right, then. Wasn’t I clear?”

  “Not entirely, no, but I figured it out.” Even he knew that mentioning Rione’s role in the whole thing would be a very serious mistake. “I don’t need time to think it over. I know what I want. I just hope you still want it, too.”