Armus made a face. “Lots of Marines. The living stars help us if they go on liberty. They always raise hell planet-side.”
“Carabali’s not too bad to work with,” Duellos suggested. “For a Marine, that is.”
“Yes. She’s not too difficult for a Marine.” Armus looked back at Geary. “What exactly are we being called upon to do when penetrating alien space?” Like the battleship he commanded, Armus wasn’t particularly quick, but he had a tendency to bull through to the heart of a matter.
“We have four basic tasks,” Geary explained. The written orders the grand council had downloaded to him had helpfully spelled those out, along with the contradictory cautions. “We need to establish communications with the aliens.” He couldn’t help glancing at Desjani. “Communications by some means not involving weaponry, that is.”
“Our hell lances got their attention,” Desjani observed.
“Damn right,” Badaya agreed.
“Granted,” Geary said. “But we have to try to find other ways to talk to them. If possible. The second task is to try to establish how powerful these aliens actually are. If we can negotiate with them, it may be possible to figure that out without learning the answer the hard way.”
Duellos leaned back, sighing. “It would be nice to know how many more warships they have left. I assume we’re also tasked with finding out what other kinds of armaments they might have?”
Geary nodded. “Preferably without having those armaments fired at us.”
Tulev made a face. “At least for once the government is not trying to do something too cheaply and with too little. They are giving us most of the Alliance’s remaining offensive warships for this mission.”
Badaya frowned importantly. “What else are we going to accomplish, Admiral?”
Geary waved toward the star display. “We want to gain some idea of how large a region the aliens occupy. It’s likely that will require penetrating quite a ways into their space, which is why we’ll have extra auxiliaries along. I fully intend moving fast while scouting out the limits of alien space.”
Neeson had his eyes on the star display. “What lies beyond the borders of the space controlled by those aliens, I wonder? Other sentient nonhuman species?”
“That’s one of the things we need to learn.”
“Potential allies,” Badaya murmured.
“Possibly,” Geary agreed.
“Or,” Armus observed with a sour expression, “more hornets’ nests to poke with sticks. You spoke of four missions, Admiral. I’ve counted three so far.”
“We’ve already discussed the fourth.” Geary paused to ensure that his next point stood out. “We know that human-crewed ships have vanished in space occupied by the aliens. We know that the Syndics weren’t able to fully evacuate some of the star systems they abandoned under alien pressure. There are humans unaccounted for.” Eyes were on him, faces stiffening with resolve even before Geary said more. “We’re going to look for any signs of human presence, any signs of human prisoners, any signs of any human who needs to be rescued.”
A long silence followed, then Shen grimaced. “Even though they’re Syndics?”
“In this case,” Tulev said, “the fact that they are human takes precedence over any political allegiance they may have.”
Shen nodded. “If you are willing to say so, then I will not object.”
“Pragmatism demands it of us even if our duties to the living stars and the honor of our ancestors does not,” Duellos said. “These creatures, whatever they are truly like, cannot be allowed to think that humans can be treated in such a way.”
“Except by other humans,” Armus grumbled.
“Well . . . yes. Only we have the right to mistreat others of our species. It’s an odd moral stance, but I can’t think of a better one.”
Commander Landis of Valiant spoke up. “Admiral, I was as happy as anyone when you told us that headquarters’ message regarding the courts-martial had been canceled. But I was surprised that it ever got sent in the first place.” He glanced toward where Badaya sat, who nodded back to him. Geary had never been certain that Landis was one of those in Badaya’s faction, but now it seemed pretty clear. Still, Valiant had followed orders earlier.
He decided that the best way to form his response was by continuing to defuse the tension and phrase his response in vague terms. “Believe me,” Geary said with exaggerated sarcasm, “you weren’t the only one who was surprised.” Delayed reactions showed around the table. “Orders get given, but sometimes it takes a while for people to respond.” The double edge to that statement should keep those who had overreacted on the defensive. “And sometimes we have to deal with aberrant actions by those who should know better. I assure you and everyone else here that everyone knows better now.” He had to keep promises to a minimum because there was no telling what else headquarters, in a moment of imbecility, might decide was a good idea.
“The issue is settled,” Tulev said. “Admiral Geary has told us so.”
“Lessons learned,” Badaya agreed with a glance at Landis, who nodded back.
Geary waited for a couple of minutes to see if more comments came in, finally seeing the commanding officer of the heavy cruiser Tetsusen stand up. “Admiral, it sounds as if we’ll be spending a long time away from home in the future. I’ll be the first to admit that I don’t know what to expect from peace, and that it’s nice to have a firm idea of what the future holds after all of the uncertainties about whether we’d be demobilized quickly or left to orbit here indefinitely or whatever. But, sir, we have homes and families. Will we see them as rarely in peacetime as we did in time of war?”
He answered quickly, wanting to allay those real concerns as best he could. “Commander, it is my intention to have this fleet inside Alliance space as much as possible given the exterior threats we may face. This fleet will remain here for another month before leaving on its first assignment because you all deserve that time. To my mind, this fleet needs to be in a position to respond to external threats, not be tied down fighting those threats, and that means this fleet needs to be home as much as possible.”
It felt like the right thing to say, and it must have been the right thing because all of the other officers nodded back, though Badaya had another questioning expression.
Geary looked slowly along the vast virtual length of the table, trying to personally make eye contact with every officer. “I am honored to be given the opportunity to command you again. Welcome to the First Fleet. For now, continue with previously assigned actions. I’ll be reviewing the status of ships and making any changes necessary to ensure we’re all ready in a month’s time.”
They all stood, the motion staggered a great deal by the time lags created by the distance of some ships. Some of the commanding officers would still be standing up ten minutes from now. But as each rose, he or she saluted, then disappeared.
Most of the images disappeared as quickly as they had arrived, but one cluster of officers remained in place. Studying them, Geary saw that all were commanding officers of warships from the Callas Republic and the Rift Federation.
Captain Hiyen of the battleship Reprisal saluted in an almost ceremonial fashion. “Admiral, though we currently remain assigned to the Alliance forces, and therefore accept our placement within the First Fleet without reservation, we anticipate being ordered to return home in the near future. As the most senior officer among the contingents from the Callas Republic and the Rift Federation, I wish to extend our formal appreciation for the honor and the opportunity to have served under your command. We know that victory, and our own survival through many battles, is owed in great part to your leadership.”
The other officers saluted with the same flourish that Hiyen had used, and Geary, with a small smile he couldn’t suppress, returned the gesture. “The honor has been mine to be offered the chance to fight alongside ships and crews such as yours. I’ll always be grateful for the contributions that your republic and federation provi
ded for the victory we all fought to achieve.” It saddened him to think of losing those ships, but given the politics roiling their homes, he could scarcely have expected the bulk of the warships making up the fleets of the republic and federation to remain under Alliance control.
The allied officers vanished as well, leaving Geary alone with the images of Badaya and Duellos, and the real presence of Desjani.
Badaya sat back, frowning. “While you spoke during this meeting, over the back channels I heard quite a few concerns being raised. Now that you’ve given the official story for public consumption, Admiral, many of this fleet’s officers have some serious questions that must be answered.”
FIVE
HAVING prepared himself for just this line of questioning, Geary simply nodded in reply. “What’s bothering them?”
Badaya gave Geary a curious look. “I trust you, of course, but I admit to also being confused about this. Why are you leaving Alliance territory? It’s obvious that the politicians are barely under control. This mess with the attempts to court-martial half the fleet on ridiculous charges is a clear sign of that. Who knows what else they might do in your absence?”
“The problem with the court-martial charges originated at fleet headquarters,” Geary said. “I dealt with it. Everyone should have trusted that I would do so.”
Seemingly unfazed by the once-again barely veiled rebuke, Badaya spread his hands. “You’re right that confidence means we have to assume you’re on top of things. But you’ve been gone for a little while, and although everyone knows you were actually putting the government in its place under cover of a honeymoon, we also understand that straightening out the Alliance is a difficult job for anyone.”
“Yes,” Desjani commented in innocent tones. “We have been doing a lot of political maneuvering for the last few weeks.”
“Naturally,” Badaya replied, seemingly oblivious to alternate meanings to Desjani’s statement, though Duellos seemed on the verge of choking for a moment as he coughed several times. “The point now is, you’re heading out. A long ways out. What happens here while you’re far from home?”
Desjani answered him again, this time speaking with flat, professional tones. “There’s a major threat outside of Alliance space that must be evaluated and confronted, and if necessary defeated once more. Who would you select for that task?”
Badaya stayed silent for a few moments. “I don’t know. I couldn’t do it. If I’d been in command at Midway, I wouldn’t have figured out what was happening in time, and those damned aliens would have hurt us very badly and won the star system. As good as you are, Tanya, and you, Roberto, I don’t think you would have done so, either. Not on your own.” He sat back, rubbing his chin, his eyes going from Geary to Desjani. “Some tasks can be delegated, but when it comes to fleet operations . . .”
“Admiral Geary has no equal,” Desjani finished, acting as if she were oblivious to Geary’s discomfort at the statement. “There are messes inside the Alliance, political messes, which others can contain and control. But the threats outside the Alliance require his personal attention. Do you agree?”
“Absolutely! These others . . . do you trust them?”
Geary thought about the grand council, the worn-out but apparently sincere Navarro, the hard-to-read Sakai, and the worrisome Suva. Not to mention the other senators he had met previously. What option did he have but to trust them? And whom did he know better qualified or more trustworthy, even if he could pick and choose? “They’re what we have to work with,” he finally said.
“The old dilemma of any commander,” Duellos commented. “You have to carry out actions with what you have, not what you’d like to have. More than one disaster has taken place when people operate as if what they wish for was what they actually had.”
“I’d say countless disasters,” Badaya agreed. “But, speaking of what we have, the ships from the Callas Republic and the Rift Federation seem very confident that they’ll be leaving us soon.”
“It’s understandable,” Duellos said. “They were attached to us for the war, and the war is now officially over.”
“But official endings leave a lot of messes behind, don’t they?” Badaya frowned again. “There are rumors that the Callas Republic and the Rift Federation are actually going to leave the Alliance, sever all ties now that they think they don’t need us anymore.”
“There’s talk of that,” Geary said. “They were always independent powers who chose to join with the Alliance during the war.”
“But to let them walk away from the Alliance now—”
“The Alliance never controlled them,” Duellos pointed out. “We don’t control them now. They have independent ground forces and space forces, and independent governments.”
Badaya made a disgusted face. “We’d have to defeat them to keep them in the fold. Civil war.”
“Or a straight-out war of conquest,” Duellos agreed, “depending on how people chose to define the current relationships of those powers with the Alliance. But either way, it would be the sort of action for which the Syndicate Worlds have long been notorious.”
“They’re not worth that kind of stain on our honor,” Badaya grumbled. “You made a good decision to let them go if they want, Admiral.”
Duellos coughed slightly, probably covering up another laugh, as Geary nodded to Badaya as if he had indeed decided what would happen. “The departure of those ships will leave a hole in the fleet,” Geary said, “but nothing we can’t handle. It’s not as if we could keep them by force in any event. I’ll miss having them, but I don’t want to go into battle alongside people who are only on our side because we have guns at their backs.”
He paused, watching Badaya. As difficult a problem as Badaya could pose, he was also a decent commanding officer with a quick mind. He was also, as far as Geary could tell, honorable enough except for his willingness to act against the government of the Alliance. But even that willingness Badaya justified by believing the Alliance government had become too corrupt and no longer representative of the people of the Alliance. And I hate even misleading people like Badaya about my role now. I hate lying to them even worse. If I can walk them toward accepting the government now . . . “In the long run, the government has to be trusted again.”
“You have no disagreement from me on that,” Badaya said.
“That’s another reason why it’s important for me to not be home too much,” Geary continued, wondering what was inspiring these words. Maybe his ancestors had given him the arguments he needed to make. “We can’t have people believing that I’m the only who can do things, that I have to be in charge. I can’t be indispensable because I do make mistakes, because I can’t be everywhere, and because the day always comes when all of us leave our lives and join our ancestors. The Alliance can’t be dependent on me.”
“This fleet,” Duellos suggested, totally serious now, “recalled much of its past honor with your example. Perhaps there’s hope for the government, too.”
“Politicians don’t change their stripes that easily,” Badaya said. “But you’re right, Admiral. Absolutely right. The citizens have to vote in a government worthy of the name. It’s their responsibility. It’s like being in command of a ship. You’re important. Your decisions are important. But if you die, and the remaining officers can’t keep that ship going because you’ve never prepared them for that, then you’ve failed in one of your most important duties.”
“Exactly,” Geary said. “Does that mean the questions you had are now answered?”
“You answered some that I hadn’t thought to ask.” Badaya stood up and saluted. “Oh, and congratulations to you two, if I can step outside of formal bounds for the moment.” He beamed at Desjani. “And you did it by the book! Not a rule broken! I hope that you had plenty of time for more than politics on your honeymoon!” Winking broadly, Badaya vanished.
“I am going to kill that oaf someday,” Desjani announced.
“Make sure you do it by the
book,” Duellos suggested, then looked to Geary. “You made a good point about not wanting to be indispensable as far as the Alliance is concerned. Now that you have a long-term command, you might want to consider what happens if we lose you as fleet commander.”
Geary sat down, resting his head in one hand, feeling immensely tired after recent mental and emotional strains and wanting nothing but to relax for a little while. “I do need to designate a formal second-in-command.”
“You can’t pick just anybody,” Desjani said.
Duellos nodded in agreement with her. “Seniority and honor, Admiral. That’s how we’ve been doing command for a while.”
“When Bloch designated you as acting fleet commander,” Desjani added, “you weren’t just Black Jack. You were also by a wide margin the most senior captain in the fleet based on your date of rank a century ago. And even then you had some who were willing to contest the validity of your date of rank. Remember?”
“There’s a lot about that period that I’d be happy to forget,” Geary replied. “Who is next most senior in this new fleet?”
“It might be Armus,” Duellos said, his brow furrowing in thought. “But even if he were, battleship commanders often stood aside or were cast aside when such issues arose.”
“Tulev might be the most senior battle cruiser captain,” Desjani said, her own expression brightening. She tapped her personal unit several times, then her smile faded. “No. He’d be third in line. You’re eighth in line, Roberto.”
“And you would be seventh in line,” Duellos acknowledged with a slight bow in her direction. “I always respect my elders.”
“Go to hell,” Desjani replied without any heat.
“Who’s senior to Tulev?” Geary asked.
“Badaya is number two and number one is . . . Vente on Invincible.”
“Ancestors preserve us.” A familiar headache was threatening to make another appearance.
The Lost Fleet: Beyond the Frontier: Dreadnaught Page 9