“You still fight,” Desjani insisted, her eyes on the next Syndic battleship Dauntless was overhauling.
“Why?” Rione asked.
Desjani threw a despairing glance at Geary, who understood what she meant. How to explain the strange logic? That sometimes you had to fight a hopeless battle for reasons that might seem to make no sense, for reasons that had nothing to do with any hope of winning? “You just have to,” he told Rione quietly. “If you don’t understand why, there’s no way to explain it.”
“I understand fighting when there’s a chance, but when it’s hopeless…”
“Sometimes you win even when it seems hopeless. Sometimes you lose there but cause something that helps elsewhere, like hurting the enemy bad enough while they kill you, or keeping them busy for a critical period of time. I told you, I can’t explain. You just do it.”
“Like you did,” Rione stated, eyeing Geary. “A century ago.”
“Yeah.” Geary looked away, not wanting to remember that hopeless battle. He had been the one facing a far superior force that day. He had known he had a chance of delaying the surprise Syndic attack on the convoy he was protecting. He had hoped the convoy would get away, hoped the other warships with him could escape as well. But he hadn’t had any hope of his own ship getting away, even though he had pretended to himself there was a chance. He had tried to remember how it had felt, the numbness inside that let him keep going while his ship was destroyed around him, while his surviving crew members escaped. But most of it was a blur now, fragments of memory in which his ship was torn apart around him, in which the last weapons stopped firing, and he had set the power core to self-destruct, in which he raced through passageways made alien by destruction to reach an escape pod he hoped hadn’t been destroyed. It had been there, damaged, and with no other hope and no time left, he had climbed in and ejected.
To drift for almost one hundred years in survival sleep, his pod’s beacon knocked out so no one found him. Not until this fleet came through the same star system en route to the Syndic home world and thawed him out.
In a sense he had died that day. When he woke up, the John Geary he knew was gone, replaced by the impossibly noble and heroic image of Black Jack Geary, legendary hero of the Alliance. “Yeah,” Geary repeated. “Sort of.”
Rione gazed back, her eyes deep with some emotion he couldn’t quite figure out.
“Fire grapeshot,” Captain Desjani ordered as Dauntless rolled in on another damaged Syndic battleship, the low relative speed allowing a long, slow firing run. The grapeshot formed a pattern of dancing lights as it impacted on the battleship’s shields. Daring and Victorious pounced from the top and bottom, their own fire helping to overwhelm the battleship’s shields. The Syndic battleship poured out a hail of hell-lance fire, concentrating on Dauntless. Geary could see the shields weakening even as the defensive systems on Dauntless automatically shifted power from the unengaged sides of the ship. The Alliance battle cruiser returned fire, its own hell lances digging holes in the battleship’s armor to wreak havoc inside the ship. Null fields shot out from Dauntless and Daring, vaporizing parts of the battleship. With Victorious also pounding away, the already stricken battleship was hopelessly outmatched. Its weapons fell silent one by one, atmosphere venting from compartments holed by Alliance fire, the huge craters left by the null fields looking like bites from an unimaginably large monster.
Dauntless and her sisters cruised past the now-silent battleship, which began tossing out escape pods as it tumbled helplessly, pieces of it breaking off and spinning away. “That’s for Terrible,” Desjani muttered.
Geary checked the overall situation again. The Second Battleship Division had caught up with the two wounded Syndic battleships that were still trying to flee and was methodically pounding them into scrap, while the lighter Alliance units with them continued on to make sure the abandoned Syndic battleship was destroyed. Only one other Syndic battleship was still firing, and as he watched, it shuddered under fire from half a dozen Alliance capital ships.
The Syndic HuKs and light cruisers had already been wiped out, and now the last heavy cruiser succumbed to a flock of Alliance destroyers and light cruisers. A cloud of Syndic escape pods was slowly heading toward the refuge offered by the barely habitable world. Geary gazed at his scattered fleet and the drifting wrecks of the Syndic force that had come charging to Ilion in pursuit of the ships under Captain Falco. We won. How much longer can we count on fighting forces we outnumber enough to win like this? How many more ships can I afford to lose?
Invincible and the auxiliaries force had almost joined up, but Geary didn’t see how the battle cruiser could be saved. Triumph, Polaris, and Vanguard hadn’t even made it this far, along with a bevy of lighter units lost at Vidha. Warrior, Orion, and Majestic had all taken heavy damage and lost a lot of crew.
Escape pods from Falcata were broadcasting requests for rescue, and a few of Geary’s other destroyers were headed that way. But the pieces of what had been Terrible and her crew were too small for even the best sensors on Dauntless to identify. There had been no chance for escape from that ship.
The Alliance fleet had won, but they had paid a bitter price.
It didn’t help Geary’s attitude to recall that this battle wouldn’t have occurred if not for the self-centered certainty of Captain Falco.
* * * *
The conference room seemed more heavily occupied than usual. It wasn’t just that thirteen surviving ships had rejoined them. It was also that the figures of Captains Falco, Kerestes, Numos, and Faresa were standing to one side. The Marine sentries guarding them on their own ships weren’t part of the program and so were invisible here, but somehow their presence was still obvious in the way the four officers held themselves.
Down the table, the image of Co-President Rione sat with the commanding officers of the ships from the Rift Federation and the Callas Republic. She had finally chosen to be at a conference again but had elected to attend the conference in virtual mode from her stateroom rather than be here in person. Geary wondered what significance that decision held, or if Rione was simply ensuring that she was seen with the ships from her own Republic for purposes of politics or morale.
Falco had his head up and was gazing around confidently as if expecting to assume command of the fleet at any moment. Geary had to wonder at the state of the man’s mind. He didn’t seem concerned at all, not even showing signs of awareness that he was under arrest. Captain Kerestes, on the other hand, appeared almost frozen with fright, everything about him conveying shock and incomprehension. His long and careful career of avoiding doing anything that might backfire in any way had come crumbling down around his ears after he deferred all decisions to the wrong man. Numos and Faresa, though, were standing with angry expressions but not concerned ones. They had something up their sleeves, Geary thought. They should be worried. Numos wasn’t the brightest star in the heavens, but he was clever enough to know when there was hell to pay.
Geary stood, drawing everyone’s attention. “First of all, congratulations to every ship and the officers and sailors of the fleet on an outstanding victory. The loss of Terrible and Falcata was an awful price to pay, but the Syndics paid a lot more. Unfortunately, we now have to also acknowledge the loss of Triumph, Polaris, and Vanguard as well as a number of smaller units. I’ve also been informed that Invincible is beyond our capability to repair and will have to be abandoned.” Everyone flinched at that. “The acting commanding officer of Invincible isn’t present because her ship’s systems are too badly torn up to allow her to participate in this conference. Those who knew Captain Ulan will be distressed to learn that he died in fighting in the Strena Star System as Invincible covered the retreat of her sister ships.” This time a lot of officers turned to glower at Kerestes, Numos, and Faresa. A battle cruiser shouldn’t have been screening its comrades. That was a job for a battleship, better able to absorb hits for a longer period of time. But obviously Warrior, Orion, and Majestic had le
ft that task to Invincible.
“I disagree with the decision to abandon Invincible,” a sharp voice announced. Geary stared in disbelief at Captain Falco as that officer continued, displaying his trademark confident, comradely smile. “We’ll fix up Invincible, then proceed back to Vidha to assist Triumph—”
“Silence.” Geary could feel as well as hear the stillness that followed his command. “The only reason you’re present is so you can hear along with everyone else the reasons for your confinement. I’m still considering whatever charges may be appropriate for a court-martial when this fleet returns to Alliance space.” No matter how popular Falco might be, Geary couldn’t let him go uncharged for something like mutiny.
“Why wait?” Captain Cresida demanded. “Hold a tribunal and shoot the son of a bitch. It would be a better fate than he inflicted on those foolish enough to follow him.”
That caused a reaction to ripple around the table. Some of the commanders present appeared to wholeheartedly support Cresida’s suggestion, but many others seemed either shocked or disapproving. Geary took a deep breath before replying. “Your suggestion was inappropriate, Captain Cresida. Captain Falco has a long and distinguished record of serving the Alliance. We have to assume the stresses that prisoner status placed upon him as the senior Alliance officer at the labor camp have led to long-term problems that must be addressed.” He had spent a long time thinking about what to say about Falco, how to balance the lingering respect so many officers and sailors felt for the man with the need to ensure no one would question keeping Falco under arrest. “Captain Falco appears to be suffering from serious difficulties with judgment and command ability. Preliminary reports from those ships that survived the engagement at Vidha indicate he was unable to offer effective leadership. For his own safety, and for the safety of the ships of this fleet, Captain Falco needs to be kept in custody.”
A lot of officers looked unhappy, some visibly flinched at the news, but no one seemed willing to dispute what Geary had said. Oddly enough, though, Captain Falco only gave one of his customary frowns in response. “Victory remains within our grasp if we act boldly. This fleets needs my leadership. The Alliance needs my leadership.” Silence followed the statement. “When the Syndics arrive in this system, we can be ready for them.”
Geary glanced at the other officers before replying. “Captain Falco, the Syndic forces pursuing the ships with you have already arrived. They’ve been destroyed by this fleet. I’m at a loss to understand how you can be unaware of that.” What was Falco thinking? Charisma was one thing, and self-confidence was important, but speaking as if recent history hadn’t even occurred?
Falco blinked and smiled again. “Good. Exactly as I’d planned. I’ll review the behavior of all ships in the battle and issue commendations and promotions where appropriate.” Captain Falco gazed around, frowning once more. “Why are we holding this conference on Dauntless? Warrior remains the fleet flagship,” he lectured. “Where’s Captain Exani?”
It took Geary a moment to remember that Exani had been commanding officer of Triumph. “He’s most likely dead.”
“Triumph will need a new commanding officer, then,” Falco stated crisply, giving another smile, this one saddened but resolute, to everyone in the meeting. “Any officers who aspire to the command should contact me directly after this conference.”
“Ancestors save us,” someone whispered.
Captain Duellos spoke in a somber voice. “I fear Captain Falco may be more badly impaired than we suspected.”
Geary spoke carefully. “Captain Falco, Triumph was destroyed covering the retreat of the ships with you from Vidha Star System.”
Falco blinked, his smile crumbling. “Vidha? I haven’t been to Vidha. That’s deep in Syndic space. Why was Triumph there?”
That brought a few gasps from the table.
“Following you,” Captain Tulev stated shortly.
“No,” Falco corrected, then stood silent for a moment before speaking crisply. “I need to address the Alliance senate. There’s a way to win this war and I can do it.”
Geary tasted something bitter as he activated a special circuit to speak with the Marine guards on Warrior. “Remove Captain Falco from the conference and return him to his quarters.” The figure of Falco, frowning once again at everyone, vanished. Geary closed his eyes briefly. How could he try a man who had obviously lost his mind? Duellos had been more right than he realized when he said Falco would fall apart when faced with the ruin of the dreams that must have kept him going in the Syndic labor camp. Fantasy had met reality at Vidha, and as fantasy had fallen apart, Falco’s reality had shattered as well. Perhaps Falco couldn’t handle a reality in that he wasn’t the savior of the Alliance.
Painful as watching Falco’s behavior had been, at least it had made it obvious to everyone here that Captain Fighting Falco wasn’t in any shape to exercise command.
Opening his eyes again, Geary focused on Kerestes, Numos, and Faresa. “Do you three have anything to say?”
Numos answered, speaking with all of his usual arrogance. “We followed orders given by a superior officer. We’ve done nothing wrong. Nothing to justify this.”
“Nothing?” Geary felt a stirring of the rage he was keeping bottled up just beneath the surface. “You knew full well that Captain Falco was not part of this fleet’s command hierarchy. You knew the fleet was proceeding to Sancere. You heard my commands to return to the fleet.”
“Captain Falco informed us we were participating in a diversion, and any orders heard from you were part of that,” Numos replied. “He insisted we must keep this secret, sharing it only among the captains of the capital ships.”
Captain Tulev’s voice was as cold as the emptiness between stars. “All of whom are dead except for you three, and the man who you claim told you this is insane. How convenient.”
Numos actually looked outraged. “We had no way of knowing a superior officer had lost his grasp upon reality and followed his orders to the best of our ability as our duty required. How dare you question my honor?”
“Your honor?” Geary demanded, knowing full well how harsh he sounded. “You have no honor. Not only did you break your oath to the Alliance, not only did you violate orders in the face of the enemy, but now you lie about it, depending upon the sealed lips of dead officers and the broken mind of another officer to protect your lie.”
“We demand a court-martial,” Captain Faresa insisted, speaking for the first time, her expression somehow even more acidic than Geary had remembered. “That is our right under Alliance law.”
“A court-martial?” Captain Duellos marveled. “So you can claim innocence based on secret orders supposedly given by Captain Falco? So you can deny the responsibility you share for what happened to twenty-six warships of the Alliance? So you can deny any role in the deaths of their crews? Have you no shame?”
“We have nothing to be ashamed of,” Numos stated with every trace of his old pride.
“I should have you shot now.” It took Geary a moment to realize he was the one who had spoken those words. And even as he realized he had said it, he knew he could do it. Officers accused of mutiny in the face of the enemy would find few defenders and no friends back in Alliance space. Numos and Faresa at least seemed to have no friends left here, though Geary had learned from bitter experience that the friends of people like Numos could hide from his sight. But they weren’t Falco, who had a reservoir of hero worship from the past and a current spate of horror and pity to win him sympathy.
He could do it. He could give the order. Not even bother with a court-martial, let alone a tribunal. This was a battlefield. As fleet commander, he could order summary justice. Who would try to stop him here and now? And when he brought this fleet safely back to the Alliance, who would raise any questions about one of his actions? Who would debate his decisions when he, and he alone, had brought this fleet home? No one in the Alliance would dare.
He could have Numos shot. And Faresa. Maybe
Kerestes, too, though the man didn’t seem worth a bullet. No one could stop him. Numos could get what he deserved. Justice would be done and done quickly and damn the legal niceties.
It was so very tempting because it felt so very right and because it was what his anger wanted him to do.
Geary took a long, slow breath. So this is what life as Black Jack Geary could be. Do what I want. Make my own rules. I’m a hero. The hero of the Alliance. The hero of this fleet. And I want so badly to make Numos and Faresa pay.
Badly enough to use the sort of power I swore I had no interest in? Badly enough to act like a Syndic CEO? Badly enough to become the man Victoria Rione believed me to be? Is that what all my lectures to these people about doing what is honorable come down to? Myself breaking the rules because I can when the reason matters enough to me? At least Falco genuinely believed he could break the rules because he was special and the only one who could save the Alliance. I wouldn’t even have that excuse. I’d be doing it because others thought I was special when I didn’t believe it myself.
He looked down the table to where Rione sat. She was watching him, her face devoid of expression, but her eyes bored into him like a battery of hell lances. She knew what he was thinking, knew what he was feeling.
Geary did not look at Numos, not sure he could refrain from giving an order for an execution if he kept seeing Numos’s ugly pride. “I won’t. This will be handled in accordance with the letter and spirit of fleet regulations. Charges will be preferred. If opportunity permits, court-martials will be held before our return to Alliance space. If not, you’ll be handed over to Alliance authorities with charge sheets signed by me.”
“We demand to be released,” Faresa insisted. “There’s no grounds for this unlawful detention.”
“Don’t push me,” Geary warned, realizing as he did so that both Numos and Faresa would probably derive a last satisfaction from driving him to compromise his principles by having them executed. You won’t get that from me. I won’t grant you that victory. Not today. Every day I’m going to wake up and go to sleep knowing I could make them pay. May my ancestors help me avoid the temptation to inflict vengeance upon those two and that idiot Kerestes. “You have the blood of Alliance sailors on your hands,” Geary stated. “If you had honor, you’d resign your commissions in shame. If you had courage, you would’ve stayed and let Triumph escape.” He was using his power to browbeat them now, when they had Marine guards standing nearby and had to just take it. Abuse of power was too damned easy. Calling the Marines guarding Numos, Faresa, and Kerestes, Geary had them dropped from the conference circuit.
Fearless Page 29