Geary sighed, stood up carefully to avoid making noise, then dressed silently. At the door he paused to look back at her. I’ve felt so much pain from knowing everyone I once knew and loved was dead. But how many people in the Alliance are like Victoria Rione, not knowing if their loved ones are dead or alive, wondering how to live with their souls torn by uncertainty? How many in the Syndicate Worlds feel the same? For the first time, he realized there was an advantage to even the cruel certainty he had been forced to deal with. At least it was a certainty.
He roamed the quiet passageways and compartments of Dauntless, greeting those members of the crew standing watches in the depths of the ship’s night, trying to find comfort in living the rituals of command.
Rounding a corner, he found Captain Desjani doing the same.
“Captain Geary?” Desjani didn’t hide her surprise. “Is everything all right?”
“Yeah. I’m okay.”
His tone, his attitude, obviously conveyed otherwise. Desjani grimaced. “You’ve talked with Co-President Rione?”
Geary nodded.
“I had thought…” Desjani paused and tried again. “I’d been very angry with her. As you could tell. I thought she’d refused to tell you because she lacked honor. I didn’t realize her sense of honor was in fact tearing her apart.”
“How did it really go? Did her ancestors really reject her?”
Desjani lowered her head and thought some more. “I felt something. I don’t know what. They were there. But she wouldn’t accept that, I think.”
“That was my impression, too.”
“She … um…” Desjani seemed embarrassed and angry. “I saw her again a little while ago. She’d been drinking, and she said a few things.”
“Yeah, I know.”
“Sir, I hope nothing I have done or said has in any way led you to think that I would ever—”
He held up a hand to forestall her. “You’ve been completely professional. I couldn’t ask for a better officer.”
Desjani still seemed distressed. “Even if you didn’t have a great mission to fulfill, even if the living stars hadn’t sent you to us at our hour of greatest need, it would still be wrong for me to—”
“Captain, please.” Geary hoped his own voice didn’t sound too distraught. “I understand. We don’t need to talk about it again.”
“There are rumors, Captain Geary,” Desjani got out between clenched teeth. “About you and me. I’ve been made aware of them.”
“Groundless rumors, Captain Desjani. Created and passed on by officers who themselves lack understanding of honor. I’ll do everything I can to act only professionally around you, as I’m sure you will continue to do with me.”
“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir. I knew you’d understand.” She nodded gratefully, then saluted and walked on. Geary watched her go, realizing that regardless of whether they ever talked about it again, it would still be looming over them constantly.
Eventually he ended up back at his stateroom. Rione was still unconscious, so Geary sat down and called up the simulations again. Three more days of passing through Daiquon Star System, and then the Alliance fleet would be at the jump point for Ixion.
Should he still take the fleet to Ixion? The Syndics had obviously guessed enough about his route to plant mines here. What might be at Ixion?
But then the alternative destinations weren’t that attractive. And they definitely had surprised the Syndics by how fast they’d arrived in Daiquon. If the Alliance fleet could keep moving faster than the Syndics could react, they might clear Ixion before the Syndics could get a blocking force in place.
Or not. According to the newest Syndic records they’d been able to steal at Sancere, Ixion boasted a decent inhabited world and a number of off-planet colonies and facilities that could well still be active. It wasn’t an empty or abandoned star system.
He’d have to be ready, really ready, when they arrived in Ixion. Assume the jump point they arrived at was mined, assume the Syndics were waiting in ambush. Make sure the Alliance fleet was ready to cope with that.
Put that way, it sounded simple. He wished he knew how to actually do those things.
Geary finally fell asleep in the chair, wishing Rione would get out of her funk and offer him advice again.
When he awoke, stiff from sleeping in the chair, Geary saw Rione still lying in his bed, but she was awake and gazing at the overhead. Without a word, he stood up and went over to the stateroom’s sink, pulling out some pain-killers and some water, then bringing them over to her.
She accepted the offering, still not looking at him. Only after he had sat back down did she speak. “I don’t recall everything I said last night.”
“That’s probably just as well,” Geary noted in a neutral tone.
“I also don’t recall everything I did last night.”
“We didn’t do anything, if that’s what you’re asking.”
Rione nodded, then sighed, then winced as the gestures apparently brought stabs of pain. “Thank you. Now, if you’ll do me the favor of turning your back, I’ll gather my clothes and whatever shreds of dignity remain to me and spare you having to deal with my presence any longer.”
“Suppose I don’t want to turn my back on you?”
“Spare me the chivalry, John Geary. Unless you simply want to revel in my nakedness. I’ve no right to deny you that small pleasure.” She looked and sounded defeated.
Geary felt himself getting angry with her, started to tamp it down, then realized sympathy hadn’t produced any results so far. “Okay, Madam Co-President. Perhaps I haven’t made myself clear.” Rione frowned at his harsh tone. “I frankly don’t care what you think of yourself right now. I am disappointed that someone of your intelligence and abilities is choosing to wallow in self-pity when I am in desperate need of her advice and good counsel in order to keep this fleet alive and keep my own head on straight. In less than three days we’ll be jumping for Ixion, and I have no idea what will be awaiting us there. Have you decided that Black Jack doesn’t need you to help him make the right choices?”
Rione’s frown deepened, though Geary also spotted a flash of fear in her. Was she wondering what she’d said last night? Whether she’d actually told him straight out just how far she’d go to protect the Alliance from Black Jack?
Geary kept his tone hard. “You’ve told me time and again how important the Alliance is to you. The Alliance needs this fleet back. If I’m to get it back, I need you working to keep me honest. I’m getting more and more comfortable with being in command, and I’m finding it harder and harder to avoid simply doing things because I can. Because the legendary Black Jack Geary could get away with a lot of things that John Geary doesn’t believe would be wise or honorable. What’s more important to you, Madam Co-President? Your own misery or the welfare of the Alliance you claim to believe in?”
Rione sat up, the sheet dropping away from her. But she was apparently unaware of that as she glared at him through bloodshot eyes. “So much for the sympathy of the fleet commander,” Rione spat at him.
“If you want to medicate yourself for depression, then you’d better try something more effective than alcohol,” Geary continued, and this time Rione’s eyes lit with fury. “You seem determined not to forgive yourself or to allow anyone else to forgive you. I can’t make you change that. But I can insist that you provide me with the best support and advice that you can, and that you refrain from acting in ways that could bring harm to the Alliance as a whole and to the Callas Republic. I expect you to act in keeping with your positions as a senator of the Alliance and co-president of your republic.”
She had one fist clenched and seemed ready to leap for Geary’s throat. “Is that all, Captain Geary?” Rione snarled.
“No.” He paused, realizing that as she sat there halfnaked, eyes blazing, Rione resembled an ancient goddess ready to hurl vengeance on an unbeliever. Oddly enough, even through his anger she’d never looked more desirable to him. “Last night
didn’t happen, if you want it that way. Nothing has ever happened between us, if you want it that way. Whatever it takes to get you on your feet again.”
She stood up, flaunting her body, even though she still broadcast fury. “Do I mean that little to you, then? Is that what you’re saying?”
“No.” He stood up as well, fighting to keep from grabbing her and pulling them both back onto the bed. “I’m saying you mean that much to me.”
Not knowing if he could control himself any longer, Geary turned quickly and walked out of the stateroom.
An entire battle cruiser at his disposal—no, a fleet of battle cruisers and battleships at his disposal—and he didn’t have anyplace to go sit down where an audience wouldn’t be wondering why Geary looked as if he’d slept in a chair last night. He finally realized the fleet conference room would be private and headed that way, closing the hatch behind him and sinking into the seat at the head of the table.
It felt odd being alone in here, no one else in any of the seats, the table and the room their normal dimensions rather than extending great virtual distances to accommodate all of the ship commanders in the fleet. Geary called up the star display, then the fleet formation, eyeing his ships. Yeah. My ships. I’m responsible for them. And I know the Syndics will have something waiting at Ixion.
They’ll have something waiting no matter which star I jump to from here.
He hated not knowing how to arrange his fleet. How can I do that when I don’t know what’s waiting for us at Ixion? I’m used to having hours at the least, and days or weeks at the most, to see the enemy forces and arrange my own fleet the way I want to deal with the enemy. I can’t afford to keep having goat ropes like when we arrived at Daiquon.
It was like not knowing where Rione was right now. He might return to his stateroom and find her there or run into her coming around a corner. And then what? He’d have to assume the worst and act first, because otherwise Rione might go for his throat after that little speech he’d given before leaving her.
Act first. Damn. It’s so simple. I’m too accustomed to normal combat in space, where you have lots of time to plan for the encounter. I just need to assume the Syndics have a heavy force in place waiting for us. And a minefield in front of the jump exit. There’s an ambush waiting. I know that. And I have to go there anyway. So have the fleet maneuvering and fighting as it comes out of the jump exit.
Why not? The old fleet in Geary’s time couldn’t have managed that. Not because it was beyond their skills but because it was too different from what they drilled and planned for. Everything had been more of a set piece then, more elegant, no chaotic melees allowed. But this fleet, these officers who liked nothing better than charging straight at the enemy, they not only could do it but would do it. They just needed a good plan to go along with their willingness to do whatever it took to kill Syndics.
Okay. What’s the ambush in Ixion going to be like? Worst case. If it’s anything less than that, I’ll have time to react. So, worst case, mines right in front of the jump exit. Right behind them the main Syndic force, ready to hit us immediately after our ships take hits from the mines. They’ll try doing what we did to them at Ilion, only setting up even closer to the jump point than we did. If they’re farther back, fine. That’s easier to handle if I’m expecting the worst.
Maybe, if they’ve been watching me operate, they’ll have forces above, below, and to each side as well to catch this fleet in a crossfire as it heads for the main body. Maybe not. That requires a lot of ships. I need to mess up their plan by doing something ships normally don’t do, something that this fleet normally hasn’t done.
He manipulated the display, trying out different Alliance formations and movements, then, finally satisfied, headed for his stateroom, not sure if he wanted to see Rione there or not.
His stateroom was empty, though. Geary paused just inside the entrance, recalling the look on Victoria Rione’s face when he’d left and seriously wondering whether he should have the stateroom swept for booby traps. His ancestors alone knew what kind of retaliation someone like Rione could improvise on the spur of the moment.
Don’t get paranoid about her. It’s bad enough having to be paranoid about my ship commanders. Geary sent out a message scheduling a commanding officers’ conference in half an hour, then hastily got cleaned up and presentable. As he headed back toward the conference room, Geary wondered if rumors of his blowup with Rione had already reached around the fleet, and if so whether it would somehow be brought up.
Captain Desjani had already taken her seat, springing up respectfully when Geary arrived. “Something urgent, sir?”
“Sort of. Not a danger, just something I need to make sure everyone knows before we jump for Ixion.”
They waited, watching figures begin to pop into existence as the start time of the meeting approached, the table and the room beyond it seeming to expand to accommodate each increase in numbers.
As the scheduled time arrived, Geary stood to speak, only to be forestalled by Captain Midea of the Paladin.
“Have you decided not to go to Ixion?” she demanded. “Are we running away from Alliance space again?”
Everyone around the table seemed to be holding their breaths, waiting for Geary’s response. For his part, Geary felt a burst of rage that he had trouble controlling. Work his ass off figuring out how to kick Syndic butt and save Alliance ships and lives, and all he got was more grief from senior officers who should be grateful they weren’t making big rocks into little rocks at some Syndic labor camp on a barely habitable world. It didn’t help that Captain Midea, who had been a silent presence in fleet conferences up to now, wore a severe expression matched to a uniform so perfect in every aspect that she resembled the Syndic CEOs that Geary had seen.
It took him another moment, while he fixed a level stare at Captain Midea, to be reminded by the identifying data provided by the meeting software that Paladin was part of the increasingly infamous Third Battleship Division, home to Captain Casia and Commander Yin, where Captains Faresa and Numos remained under arrest.
The combination of her disrespectful question, his own fatigue from an uncomfortable night, emotional turmoil over Victoria Rione, and frustration with the Battleship Division from Hell almost made Geary explode right then and there. Fortunately, he remembered why he’d called the meeting and realized that either luck or his ancestors had provided the perfect rebuke to Captain Midea.
So, instead of going nova on Captain Midea, Geary gave her a grim smile. “We’re going to Ixion, Captain. We’re going to Ixion, and we’re going to come out of the jump exit in battle formation, because I fully expect the Syndics to have an ambush in place there. I called this conference to ensure you all knew how we were going to fight that battle.”
That threw her off, Geary could tell. She’d been expecting to engage him in a debate over his caution, but not only was the fleet charging ahead, it was doing so expecting battle. None of his opponents would dare object to that. Captain Casia, who had appeared poised to leap into verbal combat beside Midea, clamped his mouth shut and sat back.
Geary reached down and began entering commands. The display sprang to life over the table, showing the formation that Geary had worked out that morning. “We’re going to get the fleet into Formation Kilo One before we jump. It’s a combat formation, with the fleet broken into many subformations, each built around a battle cruiser or battleship division, and all of them arranged to provide supporting fire to neighboring subformations.” He rotated the image of the formation on the display, making it clear that it consisted of a staggered series of blocks of ships, twelve blocks in total, arranged into the overall shape of a roughly rectangular box.
Captain Desjani studied the formation along with all of the other officers and spoke first. “In case we run into something like Daiquon again?”
“Right. See, each of these formations is self-supporting. None of our lighter units will be far from heavy support, and all of the heavy co
mbatants will have light units close by supporting them. No matter what we encounter, these subformations will be able to defend themselves, and taken together will let us hit any Syndic formation we run into from multiple angles. It’s not a perfect attack formation because we don’t know how the Syndics will be arranged, but regardless of how they’re set up, we’ll be able to maul any Syndics at the jump exit and provide effective protection for our own ships until we get clear of the initial combat area and can adjust our formation to hit them again.”
“You’re assuming major combat at the exit itself?” Captain Tulev asked. “It happened at Daiquon by chance, but we’ve never worked that way.”
“We will now.” Geary smiled at Tulev, then around the table. “We’ll come out of the jump exit ready to engage a major enemy force, and we will engage them and we will hurt them badly before they even realize we’re there.” He could see faces lighting up with enthusiasm. This fleet loved charging into action. Most of his work since assuming command had been slowly teaching these officers to think as hard as they fought. That usually meant avoiding headlong charges, which had been difficult for many of his ship commanders to accept. Now he was offering them something like a headlong charge into battle again, and they were as happy as could be at the prospect of mutual slaughter.
“All units will proceed to stations in Formation Kilo One at time three zero,” Geary continued. “Formation assignments will be transmitted to all ships as soon as this conference is over. In addition, we will have maneuvering orders to take effect the instant your ships arrive in Ixion. We’ll come through the exit at only point zero five light speed. The instant each ship and their subformation exits jump at Ixion, they are to alter course up six zero degrees.”
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