“Mines?” Captain Cresida asked.
“Right. Changing course up that much should bring us clear of mines set to catch ships coming straight out of the exit. The Syndics were mining the exits here at Daiquon, so we have to assume they’re doing the same at other systems they think we’re within reach of. Once we clear the minefield, we’ll change course down again and accelerate as necessary to engage the enemy.”
“That’s a lot of mines,” Captain Duellos observed. “They must be sinking a lot of resources into that.”
“It’ll also disrupt their trade with systems not on their hypernet,” Geary added.
“They’re getting desperate,” Captain Cresida concluded. “Everything they’ve tried to stop this fleet has failed, and we’re getting closer to home.”
The statement had enough evidence to support it that no one objected, though some faces frowned in thought.
“Are there any questions?” Geary asked.
“Where do we go after Ixion?” Captain Casia had recovered enough to ask.
Just relieve him of command and arrest him, Black Jack urged Geary. He took a deep breath and answered firmly but calmly. “I haven’t decided. That depends on what we find at Ixion. There’ll be four star systems within jump range of Ixion, five counting Daiquon, though I’ve no intention of coming back here. Are there any other questions?”
Commander Yin piped up. “Why doesn’t Co-President Rione attend these conferences anymore?”
Rumors had flown just as quickly as Geary had thought they might. He wondered just who watched arrivals and departures from his stateroom and how. “You’d have to ask Co-President Rione. She knows she’s welcome to attend, and I have every expectation that the ships of the Callas Republic and the Rift Federation keep her informed of events.” Those commanding officers all nodded with varying degrees of hesitation.
“Why doesn’t she register her opinions here, at the conferences?” Captain Midea demanded. “We know she offers her opinions to you in private.”
His opponents had previously tried to generate trouble from accusations that a civilian politician was having too much influence on fleet actions. It looked like that same charge was about to be raised again. Rather than lose his temper, Geary decided to try handling it with humor. “Captain Midea, if you know anything of Co-President Rione, you know that nothing and no one is capable of preventing her from expressing her opinion whenever and wherever she desires to do so.” That brought grins to a lot of faces. “Co-President Rione lets me know what she thinks and has in fact provided invaluable suggestions during operations.”
Captain Desjani, her own expression carefully composed, nodded. “Co-President Rione is usually on the bridge during operations.”
“Co-President Rione was openly offering suggestions during ground operations at Baldur,” Colonel Carabali chimed in. “There was no attempt to hide her involvement.”
“But why isn’t she here?” Commander Yin pressed, her tone implying that something was being hidden.
“I don’t know,” Geary replied coldly. “A member of the Alliance Senate is not subject to orders from me. As a citizen of the Alliance you have the right to speak with a senator at any time, so why don’t you ask her yourself?”
“A politician, with the ear of the fleet commander on a constant basis.” Resolution’s captain spoke cautiously. “You can surely understand our concern, Captain Geary.”
Geary tried to respond in an even voice, even though he wasn’t liking where the conversation was going this time. “Co-President Rione is an Alliance politician, not a Syndic politician. She is on our side.”
“Politicians are only out for themselves,” the captain of Fearless suggested. “The military sacrifices for the Alliance, while the politicians make bad decisions and big money.”
“Such a discussion involves politics, too,” Geary suggested. “We’re not here to debate the virtues of the Alliance’s political leadership. I will state again that Co-President Rione does not and will not make decisions about employment of this fleet, but that she has every right and responsibility to inform me of her opinions and recommendations. Ultimately we work for her, because ultimately she works for the citizens of the Alliance.” Did that sound pompous? He wasn’t sure. But then he’d never imagined having to remind Alliance officers of those basic facts.
A moment’s silence stretched, finally broken by Captain Duellos speaking in casual tones. “You believe the civilian government’s authority over you is absolute, Captain Geary?”
A deliberately leading question, one he had no problem answering, but one he couldn’t help wondering why it had to be asked at all. “That’s correct. I follow orders from the government, or I resign my commission. That’s how the fleet works.” Not as many nods of agreement answered that as Geary would have hoped. In addition to all of its other damage, the long war had obviously harmed the relationship between the fleet and the Alliance’s leaders. Geary’s own experience with Captain Falco had revealed to him a belief in parts of today’s fleet that military duty might justify going against civilian authority. Maybe Black Jack’s mystique could help discredit that corrosive idea before it did even greater damage. “That’s what makes us the Alliance. We answer to the government, and the government answers to the people. If any of you doubt the virtues of that system, I suggest you study our enemies. The Syndicate Worlds are what happens when people with power do whatever they want.”
That was as close to a slap in the face as Geary could publicly administer to his opponents, and he could see it hit home in some of them. “Thank you. I expect to hold my next conference at Ixion.”
Figures vanished rapidly, but this time the image of Captain Badaya remained in the room with Geary. Badaya glanced at Desjani, who gave him a measuring look back and excused herself.
Once Desjani had left, Captain Badaya faced Geary and spoke quietly. “Captain Geary, I’ve been among those who have had my doubts about you. Like the others in this fleet, I was raised to believe that Black Jack Geary was the epitome of an Alliance officer, the sort of beyond-comparison individual who had saved the Alliance once and might someday return to save it again in the future.”
He hated hearing that. “Captain Badaya—”
Badaya held up one hand, palm out. “Let me finish. When the fleet found you, I was not among those who were willing to place full faith and trust in you. I didn’t oppose you, but I wasn’t a supporter, either. After so many years of war I have a hard time believing in miraculous saviors.”
Geary smiled slightly. “I assure you that I’m not miraculous, Captain Badaya.”
“No,” Badaya agreed. “You’re human enough. Which is what has led me to join with those who believe most fervently in you. I don’t agree with their abstract faith in you, but I do agree that you have proven to be an exceptionally able commander. No other officer I’ve met could have brought the fleet this far or won the victories that you have. But that’s what I must talk to you about. Should we reach Alliance space again, it will be because you brought this fleet there. You did something no one else could do.”
Geary suddenly realized where this might be heading and desperately hoped he was wrong.
“How foolish would it be for someone of your talents, someone who could indeed finally win this war, to submit himself to the control of the fools in the Alliance Grand Council and the Senate, who have played such a distasteful part in prolonging this war?” Badaya asked. “You have the idealism of the past, which has served us well, but you need to see what has happened at home in the last century. Yes, the politicians are supposed to answer to the people of the Alliance, but they long since stopped doing anything but looking after their own interests. They’ve played politics with the fate of the Alliance and the fate of the military that defends the Alliance. How many have died, civilian and military, in a war that has had no end because thoughtless civilian politicians have meddled in the decisions that by rights should belong to those risking their li
ves on the front lines?”
Geary shook his head. “Captain Badaya—”
“Listen, please! You can make the difference. You can rescue the Alliance from politicians who the people of the Alliance no longer trust or believe in. When we reach Alliance space, you can claim the authority needed to make the decisions necessary to win this war, to end the ceaseless bloodshed. The people will follow Black Jack Geary if he calls on them.” Badaya nodded, his expression solemn. “There are many commanders in this fleet who believe the same. I was asked to speak for them to assure you that this belief is not based solely on faith in your legend. And, yes, there are those who will oppose you no matter what. Those officers can be dealt with, for the good of us all.”
The implicit opportunity to become a dictator had never actually been offered to Geary so explicitly. Just the statement of the offer constituted treason, and yet he needed officers like Badaya in order to get the fleet home. “I … appreciate your reasoning. I am … grateful that you think highly of me. But I cannot in good conscience consider what you offer. It goes against everything I believe in as an officer of the Alliance.”
Badaya nodded again. “I didn’t expect you to jump at the offer. You’re far too capable to make such a leap without careful consideration. We merely want you to be aware of what you could do, of the backing you have, so that you may mull it over prior to our return to Alliance space. Once you’ve really looked over the misgovernment of the politicians in the Council and the Senate, you’ll feel differently.”
“Captain Badaya, similar sentiments were expressed to me by Captain Falco, though in his case he thought himself the natural one to seize power.”
Badaya grimaced. “Captain Falco was always eager to express his confidence in himself. I never liked that. You’re different, as different as the great victory you achieved at Ilion compared to the disaster that Falco presided over at Vidha.”
Say it. Just say it clearly. He could not leave any grounds for anyone to believe that he would seriously consider the offer. “Captain Badaya, because I’m not Captain Falco, I cannot imagine any circumstances under which I would seize power from the civilian government of the Alliance.”
Badaya didn’t seem offended, just nodding once more. “We expected to hear that. You are Black Jack Geary, after all. But Black Jack Geary is devoted to the Alliance, isn’t he? All we ask is that you consider the good you could do. The people of the Alliance need you, Captain Geary, to save them just as you’re saving this fleet. I didn’t believe that when we first recovered you, but you’ve made me believe that is true. And don’t expect gratitude from the politicians when you bring this fleet home. They’ll see you as a rival and try to destroy you. But I assure you that any arrest order will be resisted by the majority of the fleet. Thank you for your time, sir.” Badaya saluted, waiting for Geary to return the gesture before his image vanished.
Geary collapsed into his seat and pressed his palms against his forehead. Damn. “Think of the good you could do.” Ancestors, save me from those who hate me and from those who admire me.
When I found out the Syndic citizens on Baldur were unhappy with their leaders, I thought it was great news. Maybe the Syndics would finally act against their own government. And now I learn as clearly as possible that a lot of the Alliance’s own officers are just as unhappy with their government.
Wouldn’t that be ironic, if the governments of both the Alliance and Syndicate Worlds collapsed because of the frustrations of their people with this apparently endless war? To be replaced by what? Lots of small, squabbling, fighting gatherings of a few star systems?
What if I face a choice of seeing that happen or accepting the sort of dictatorship that Badaya and his friends want to hand me?
SIX
“I need to talk to you.” Geary’s voice was brittle as he spoke into the intercom. He knew it. He couldn’t help it.
Rione didn’t answer.
“Damn it all, Madam Co-President, this is about the Alliance. It’s about Black Jack.”
Her voice ripped into him like a dull knife. “I’ll consider it. Now leave me alone.”
Geary broke the connection, glaring at the bulkhead. Part of his fleet was ready to mutiny against him, part wanted to back him in treason against the Alliance, and part just accepted him as a decent commander. He couldn’t help wondering what the last part would do if Geary gave in to the temptation offered by the second part. Would his fleet end up in a three-way fight against itself, or a twoway fight?
It’d be far different if he didn’t know about the hypernet gates, about the very real chance that the Alliance government would learn about the destructive potential of the gates and vote to use them. It wasn’t just about saving the Alliance, but potentially about saving the entire human race.
And he didn’t know if he had the strength to resist that, especially since he didn’t know which course of action would be right when the survival of humanity was at stake.
Arrest order. He couldn’t get that out of his mind. Would the political leadership of the Alliance actually order him to be arrested? And whether they would or not, the fact that an officer such as Captain Badaya believed they would told Geary some things that he didn’t like at all.
He considered calling Captain Desjani to ask her about everything. But Desjani might endorse what Badaya had said, and Geary simply didn’t want to deal with facing the reality that she believed in him that much. She’d never shown much regard for politicians, Co-President Rione being a notable example. Proper outward respect, yes, but it was clear enough that Desjani didn’t trust the political leaders of the Alliance. And now it was abundantly clear that she wasn’t unique at all in that respect.
Ancestors, what’s happened? I thought I was getting a good grasp on how the people in this fleet thought, on the changes that a century of war had caused, but now I realize there’s a lot more, some of it a lot worse, than I had thought.
He finally fell asleep without any answers to the questions plaguing him.
Geary woke without knowing why, then glanced around his stateroom.
Someone was sitting nearby watching him. He squinted against the darkness, making out the figure’s identity. “Madam Co-President?”
“That’s correct.” Her voice was calm, which was a considerable reassurance. “It frankly surprised me to see that you hadn’t reset your security settings to bar my access to your stateroom.”
He sat up, trying to clear the lingering traces of sleep from his mind. “It occurred to me that it might be a good thing to let you have continued access.”
“I know some of what I said the night I was drunk, John Geary. I know what I told you.”
“That you’d do whatever it took to stop Black Jack. Yeah.”
“I said more than that,” she insisted.
“You said you’d kill me if you had to,” Geary agreed. “Maybe I think it’s a good thing to have that threat hanging over me.”
She sounded exasperated now. “You’re either very trusting, very naïve, or very stupid.”
“Try scared,” he suggested.
“Of yourself?” Rione didn’t wait for an answer. “I hear you received an offer.”
Geary wished he could make out her expression. He’d wondered if Rione’s spies in the fleet would somehow find out about that. “What else did you hear?”
“That your answer was that you’d think it over.”
“No. My answer was that it wouldn’t happen. Clear and unequivocal.”
She actually laughed. “Oh, John Geary, you don’t know the first lesson any politician learns. It doesn’t matter what you say, it’s what people think they hear. Anyone wanting to offer you control of the Alliance isn’t going to hear you say no.” Rione paused. “You needed to talk. You’re tempted, aren’t you?”
“Yeah,” he admitted. “Because of the hypernet gates.”
“You don’t trust politicians with knowledge of those weapons? I can’t say I blame you. I don’t wan
t the Alliance government to learn of them, either. But you don’t trust yourself with that knowledge, do you? That’s why you gave me the program for scaling up the energy released when a hypernet gate collapses.”
“Maybe you should be the dictator.”
“I think I’ve given you abundant evidence of my own human failings, John Geary.” She paused, then sighed. “You gave me hard words, and I recognized their truth. You may now make another joke about a woman admitting you were right.”
“No, thanks.”
“By my ancestors, you have learned a little about women, haven’t you? Why is the fleet going to Ixion?”
The sudden change of topic startled Geary. “Because it’s the best of a lot of bad options.”
“You expect the Syndics to be there in force.”
“Yeah. I expect them to be present in force at any star we can reach.” He tossed off the covers and turned to face her. “I can’t stay lucky forever. Daiquon was so close. We might have lost the same number of ships to a finished minefield and not had any Syndic warships taken out to balance the scales. What else have your spies told you? I really need to know what you’re hearing.”
“Casia and Midea aren’t leading the officers opposed to your continued command of this fleet. I haven’t been able to find out who is, but they’re answering to someone else. Despite being under arrest and guarded by Marines, Numos and Faresa have found ways to pass messages to those who still believe in them.”
That shouldn’t have been surprising. “But Numos and Faresa aren’t the leaders of my opponents, either?”
“No.” Rione’s voice altered, becoming strained. “And you should know that rumor holds that I am intensely jealous of your relationship with Captain Desjani.”
Geary slammed a fist onto his thigh. “My imaginary relationship?”
Rione took a moment to answer. “It seems the best counter to those rumors is for me to cease avoiding you and for me to act civilly toward Desjani again. Besides, as you pointed out, I’ve been neglecting my duties. If you’ve been honest with me, my advice has been of value to you. You can count on it once more.”
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