Victorious tlf-6

by Jack Campbell

  Geary nodded. “They’re assuming their government might be lying to them.”

  “Is that so foreign a concept?” Rione asked sarcastically.

  He avoided looking at Desjani. The fleet’s officers distrusted their political leaders. He wondered how many of them would have believed in the effectiveness of the safe-fail system if one of their own hadn’t produced the initial design. “All right, then. Do you think Senator Costa or Sakai would be upset if I handle this myself, or would they regard that as negotiating?”

  “You’re in a combat situation,” Rione replied. “This is fully a matter for your action, Fleet Admiral Geary.”

  “Captain Desjani, please have your communications watch give me a tight beam to reply to that Syndic CEO.”

  After the circuit was set up, Geary put on his fleet-commander face as he activated the circuit. “This is Admiral Geary for the Syndicate Worlds’ CEOs and people in the Parnosa Star System. The Alliance was not responsible for the collapse of the hypernet gates in any Syndicate Worlds’ star systems. In fact, some warships from this fleet placed themselves in serious peril to ensure that the gate at Sancere caused minimal damage when it collapsed. We have no intention of causing the collapse of the gate here.” Get that off the table first. He didn’t want even to imply a willingness to employ such a weapon. “Refrain from attacking this fleet, and we will refrain from any defensive response against the people and installations of this star system.” He paused, then added something he still found it hard to have to say, because it reflected a threat that in his eyes the Alliance should never have posed. “This fleet does not war on civilians.” Not anymore, anyway, not while he was in command, and he was certain most of the other fleet officers agreed. “We engage military targets only. I know you must be aware of that from our activities in other star systems in recent months. Keep your forces clear of this fleet, do not attack us, and we will not retaliate. To the honor of our ancestors.”

  Desjani shook her head. “We’re in a fairly wealthy Syndic star system, and the fleet probably won’t fire a shot.” She gave Geary a sardonic look. “In the old days, we would have had a lot of fun blowing up stuff here.”

  “You mean a few months back?”

  “It’s been longer than a ‘few’ months, Admiral.” Her expression changed. “But a year ago I wouldn’t have believed it if someone had told me how things would change by now.”

  He almost replied, then thought about where he had been a year ago. Still frozen in survival sleep, his damaged pod lost amid the debris littering Grendel Star System. Not aware that the last remnants of the power on the pod were being slowly drained and that if he wasn’t found within a few more months, the systems keeping him alive would fail.

  “What’s the matter?” Desjani appeared worried as she watched him.

  “I just felt cold for a minute,” he muttered in reply, wondering if the memory of the ice that had filled his body would ever completely leave him.

  She kept her eyes on him a minute longer, then leaned into Geary’s privacy field once more. “Whatever I have said or done in the last few weeks, never doubt that I thank the living stars that you survived, that you came to my ship, and that I came to know you.”

  He nodded, not having to try hard to force a smile in return. “Thanks.”

  Then Desjani was leaning back again, all business once more. “One more day, then we’ll see if this key still works.” She smiled like a wolf. “I can’t wait to get back to the Syndic home star system. This fleet has some debts to pay there.”

  Two hours before they reached the hypernet gate, Geary was pretending to rest. Dauntless’s bridge was tense enough without him hovering there, too. He would go up in one more hour, to watch the final approach to Parnosa’s hypernet gate and make only the second hypernet journey in his experience. He had hardly noticed the first one, still sunk in post-traumatic stress, both mental and physical.

  An incoming call promised a welcome diversion. “Geary here.”

  “You have an incoming conference request, Admiral,” Dauntless’s communications watch officer reported. “From Dreadnaught.”

  Geary stood up hastily, straightening his uniform. “Accept it.”

  A moment later, the image of Captain Jane Geary appeared in his stateroom, standing before him as if she were physically present. Her expression was unrevealing, her voice controlled. “Captain Geary, requesting a personal counseling session with Admiral Geary.”

  “Granted.” He couldn’t tell how she felt, what she intended saying. “Please take a seat.”

  On Dreadnaught, Jane Geary sat stiffly in a chair in her own stateroom, the image before him acting the same way. She gazed at him steadily, and he looked back, still startled even now to see the signs of age on her, to realize that his grandniece had aged a few years more than he had. He’d studied her picture before, but only seeing her in person did Geary spot some resemblances to his brother. “May I inquire as to the reason for the counseling session?” he finally asked.

  “Yes, sir. First off, I’d like to know why you assigned Dreadnaught and Dependable to the Third Battleship Division and placed me in command of that division.”

  That question was easy enough to answer. “The Third Battleship Division had a lot of problems. Leadership, morale, and effectiveness problems. The surviving ships in that division needed good examples and a good leader. Based on what I saw during the fighting at Varandal, I believe that Dreadnaught and Dependable fill the first requirement, and you fill the second.”

  Jane Geary took a moment to think about his answer before speaking again. “I understand that you have a message from my brother, Captain Michael Geary.” The words still held no apparent emotion.

  “Yes. I offered to send you a copy of the transmission containing them.”

  “Can you just tell me what he said?”

  “Certainly.” He’d both dreaded and looked forward to this meeting, and neither feeling had yet altered. “He told me to tell you that he didn’t hate me anymore.”

  Jane Geary kept her eyes on him for a long moment, then looked away, breathing deeply. “That’s all?”

  “We didn’t have much time. How much do you know about what happened?”

  “I’ve seen the official reports and spoken to a number of officers in the fleet, Admiral.”

  Geary sat back, exhaling in exasperation. “What am I supposed to be doing here, Jane? Are you here as my grandniece or as one of my subordinate commanders? Dammit, you’re the closest family I have left.”

  “A lot of us have died in the war.” She looked back at him. “Tell me the truth. Michael volunteered for the forlorn hope? You didn’t suggest it first?”

  “He volunteered. I was still getting my balance as commander, still trying to adjust to what had happened. I wasn’t ready to order … to order someone to do that.”

  Jane Geary seemed to slump a bit, closing her eyes. “He was all I had. You left him in the Syndic home star system.”

  “Yes, I did.” He wouldn’t plead the pressures of command, his obligation to the rest of the fleet. The simple fact wouldn’t be changed by either of those things. “I still hope he survived, that we’ll get him back.”

  “You know the odds against that.”

  “Yeah.” A bitter taste filled his mouth. “A lot of people didn’t make it home. I’m sorry.”

  She leaned forward, eyes wide, suddenly intense again. “We both hated you. Our lives were never our own. Sometimes as children we’d play a game. One of us would be Black Jack, the boogeyman chasing the other one, trying to catch him or her and drag them off to the war. You finally caught Michael, then me, didn’t you?”

  “I’m not Black Jack. I want to end this war. I’m sorry for what happened to you and Michael, for what happened to all of the Gearys forced to follow in my alleged footsteps and fight. But I swear on the honor of our ancestors that I would never have agreed to what happened, to the creation of this outsize legend about who I supposedly wa
s. I didn’t do it, but I’m still very sorry for what it did to people like you and Michael.”

  Once again, Jane Geary sat quiet for a while. “Have you told anyone else about that message from Michael?”

  He started to say no one, then realized he couldn’t. “Just one.”

  “Let me guess who that could be.” She looked around as if expecting to see Tanya Desjani. “What am I supposed to do, Admiral?”

  “Are you asking me as my niece or as Captain Jane Geary?”

  “Your niece. Captain Jane Geary can maintain a totally professional relationship. I know how to do that.”

  He frowned, sensing a not-so-subtle slam at Desjani. “You’re not the only one who knows how to do that.”

  She unbent slightly, then. “My apologies. I didn’t mean that the way it sounded. I’ve heard nothing offering proof of improper actions by you or anyone else. But in a short time we’ll enter the Syndic hypernet, where communications between ships can’t occur. After that we may well face hard fighting. I needed to speak with you before then, because one or both of us may not be around afterward.”

  “Thank you.” Geary let himself relax. “Please be my niece for a short time. I can only imagine what it was like growing up in the shadow of Black Jack and the shadow of this war. I can’t change that, I can’t change anything that happened while I was in survival sleep. But I want to fix whatever I can. You have to understand, I—” He couldn’t speak for a moment, seeing once again the traces of his brother in her. Most of the time he could pretend things at home hadn’t really changed, that even though so much in the fleet had changed, that back at Glenlyon his brother still worked and his parents still lived. But he couldn’t pretend that while facing Jane Geary.

  She watched him, then seemed to change the subject. “I served with Captain Kila for a while when we were both lieutenants.”

  The memories that name brought up crowded out Geary’s grief for a moment. “My condolences. That must have been unpleasant.”

  “It was,” Jane Geary agreed. “Would you have shot her?”

  “Hell, yes. She had Alliance blood on her hands.”

  “I knew Captain Falco, too,” Jane Geary said.

  Geary grimaced. “He … died with honor.”

  Something in his answers had satisfied her. Jane Geary nodded again. “There’s something I have to tell you. I also have a message, for you. I hope you can forgive me for not delivering it until now.”

  That had been the last thing he had expected to hear. “A message?”

  “When I was a young girl, one night when we were visiting my grandfather, your brother, I found him standing outside, looking up at the stars. I asked him what he was doing, and he said he was looking for something. I asked what it was, and he said. ‘My brother. I miss him. If you ever meet him somewhere up there, tell him I missed him.’ ”

  He stared at her, for a moment too overwhelmed to give in to grief again. “He told you that?”

  “Yes. I never forgot a word of it even though I never expected to deliver it.” She sighed. “I should have given that message to you long before this. He always told us you were everything the legend said, you know. Absolutely perfect and the greatest hero ever.”

  “Mike said that? My brother said I was perfect?”

  “Yes.”

  He couldn’t help a brief laugh. “He certainly never told me that when—when he was alive. Damn. He’s dead. He’s been dead for a long time. Everybody’s dead.” Months of denial crumbled and Geary slumped, burying his face in his hands.

  Jane Geary finally broke the silence. “I’m sorry. I have to tell you one other thing. We never really believed in you, Michael and me. Black Jack was a myth. But we were wrong.”

  That jarred him out of his grief. “No, you weren’t. Black Jack is a myth. I’m just me.”

  “I’ve reviewed the records since you assumed command, and I’ve spoken to the officers in this fleet! I couldn’t have done what you did. No one else could have done it, either.” She paused, then blurted out a question. “You’ve talked to our ancestors since coming back, haven’t you? Do you feel Michael is still alive?”

  Geary made a fist and hit his chair arm. “I don’t know. My ancestors have never given me a clear feeling either way.”

  She nodded, seeming relieved. “Me, too. You know what that can mean.”

  “No, I don’t.”

  “Seriously? It can mean that a life hangs in the balance. It can mean that your decisions, your actions can make a difference, decide whether that person has died or is still alive.”

  “I’ve never heard that.” Beliefs had changed a bit in a century, it seemed. Easy enough to understand, with so many prisoners of war held and no exchanges of information about them. Families would have to grasp at any straw that offered hope or information about the fates of loved ones.

  Jane Geary nodded firmly. “Everyone in the family agreed about you. We’d speak with our ancestors, but no one ever felt like you were among them. I swear. That’s why Grandfather told me to give you a message if I saw you. If you were dead, he would have expected to see you first, when he died and joined our ancestors, but none of us thought you were there.” Her expression turned fierce. “We never told anyone outside the family. That legend grew up, that you’d come back someday to save the Alliance, but it wasn’t because the family told anyone that you weren’t dead. I don’t know where that legend came from. But it was true. It took me a long time to accept that.”

  “Jane, please don’t. I have enough expectations put on me as it is by people I’m not related to.” He spread his hands. “It’s nice to have people who believe I’m human. It’s important for me to have that.”

  She thought, then nodded. “I think I understand. But I must ask, as family, for the truth. Were you there, during all those years? Among the lights in jump space? Among the living stars themselves?”

  The question was obviously a serious one, so Geary managed to avoid a laugh, which might have stung his grandniece. “Not that I remember. I can’t remember anything, really. I fell asleep, then I awoke on Dauntless.”

  “Not even any dreams?” Jane asked, her disappointment clear.

  “I don’t—Not that I can be sure of,” Geary corrected himself. “Every once in a while I think I remember a fragment of something. But the doctors all tell me that in survival sleep everything in the body is stopped or slowed down as far as it possibly can be slowed. Thought processes, too. I wasn’t thinking, so I couldn’t have been dreaming. That’s what they say. If anything did happen, I can’t remember it.” Geary glanced at his grandniece, uncomfortable with this line of questions and wanting to change the subject. “What would you have done if you hadn’t gone into the fleet?”

  Jane Geary smiled. “Something to do with structures. Architecture. People have drawn on living models for millennia, but I think there’s more we can learn when designing things.” Her smile faded. “Michael has a daughter and two sons. The daughter will be eligible to enter fleet-officer training in six months.”

  He had known that but hadn’t wanted to bring it up, wondering how those children would feel about Black Jack, the Black Jack who had left their father in the Syndic home star system. “Is that what she wants to do?”

  “Maybe you’ll get a chance to ask her.”

  “As long as she really has a choice.”

  Jane Geary nodded. “Maybe you’ll give her that choice, at long last. Please forgive me for not speaking with you earlier. I should go now and let you prepare for operations.”

  He checked the time and nodded reluctantly. “Thank you. I can’t tell you how much this meant to me.”

  “Perhaps we’ll both be able to speak with Michael again.” Jane Geary stood up, then saluted in the manner of someone to whom the gesture was recently learned. “By your leave, Admiral.”

  “Granted.” He returned the salute, then stood for a moment, gazing at the place where her image had been before leaving for the bridge.
>
  On Geary’s display on the bridge, the Syndic hypernet gate loomed. The actual gate was a bound-energy matrix invisible to human senses, but the hundreds of devices called tethers, which held that matrix stable and in place, were visible in a huge ring Dauntless seemed about to thread. He hadn’t been so close to a gate since Sancere, and that gate had been collapsing as a result of having too many of its tethers destroyed by Syndic warships trying to deny use of the gate to the Alliance fleet. Remembering the way space itself had seemed to fluctuate as the gate collapsed, Geary took a deep breath to calm himself.

  “No problems,” Desjani advised him with a reassuring smile.

  “Captain Desjani, I only remember approaching a hypernet gate once, and you’ll recall that wasn’t a pleasant experience.”

  “We survived.”

  After a century of war, Geary had to admit that was a reasonable standard for success.

  Desjani gave Geary a speculative look. “This is where we find out if it all works right.”

  He nodded, knowing that she was referring to things they shouldn’t discuss on the bridge. All of the probability-based worms they could find had been scrubbed out of the hypernet, maneuvering, and communications systems on every ship in the fleet. Hopefully that would mean the aliens couldn’t redirect the fleet while it was in the hypernet as they had a Syndic flotilla. But the Alliance fleet wouldn’t know for certain it was safe until they tried it. “How does this hypernet gate and key work again?”

  “When we enter the hypernet gate’s field, the Syndic hypernet key aboard Dauntless will activate. We set the parameters for the transport field to be large enough to include the entire fleet, make sure the destination displayed on the key is what we want, then we order the key to transmit the execute command to the gate. It’s simple.”

  He nodded. “Too simple. What human engineer ever designed something that easy to operate?”