Dauntless tlf-1

by Jack Campbell

  So here we all are again. One big happy family. Geary tried to avoid looking toward Captain Faresa, whom he was certain would be giving him one of her acidic looks. “I wanted to inform you all that my intentions are to remain in Kaliban for a while. We may be able to find useful matériel here, and there’s little to no chance of rapid Syndic pursuit.”

  Captain Faresa interrupted, as Geary had expected her to. “If the Syndics show up here, will the Alliance fleet run away again?”

  He gave Faresa a bland look, hoping it would discomfort her. “We didn’t run away at Corvus. We declined battle.”

  “It’s the same thing! And to a numerically inferior force!”

  Geary tried to judge the attitudes around the table, studying the expressions of captain after captain and getting the feeling that entirely too many of them were betraying sympathy for Faresa’s statements. The impression baffled him, but it seemed unmistakable. “If I may remind Captain Faresa, our sole purpose in Corvus was to transit the system in order to reach another jump point. I saw no reason to allow an inferior Syndic force to divert us from our intended plans.”

  “They believe we ran from them!”

  Geary shook his head and smiled very briefly. “The Syndics believe a lot of ridiculous things.” To his relief, the comment brought forth laughter from many of the captains. He’d thought over how to approach the issue of what had happened in Corvus if someone tried to make an issue of it, and dismissing the significance of the Syndic force had seemed to be the best angle.

  Captain Faresa flushed, but before she could speak again, Captain Numos interceded. “The fact remains that the Syndics surely believe we were scared of fighting them.”

  Geary raised one eyebrow. “I wasn’t scared of the Syndics.” He let the statement hang a moment, while Numos glared daggers at him. “I don’t believe in letting the enemy dictate our actions. If we’d turned to fight a battle simply because we were … concerned … about what the enemy would think, then we’d be letting them determine our course of action.”

  He pointed toward Faresa and Numos in turn. “I will remind you both that the Syndics knew we’d gone to Corvus. That was the only system we could reach from the jump point we’d used in the Syndic home system.” He’d nearly used the word escaped but didn’t want to feed the accusations that the fleet had run away from battles, even though it was one-hundred-percent true. “That force coming after us was surely only a first wave. There would’ve been more right behind them. What would we have done with our damaged ships when that second wave appeared? We had no safe harbor in a Syndic system. Any damaged ships would’ve been doomed along with their crews. How would that serve our cause? How would that serve the people we command? Would you fight a battle to the death of this fleet in an insignificant star system simply out of pride?”

  Captain Faresa glared silently back at Geary, but Numos shook his head. “Pride is why this fleet fights. It holds us together. Without pride, we are nothing.” His tone clearly conveyed that Geary should know this, and that Geary’s ignorance of it was inexplicable.

  Geary leaned toward the image of Numos, knowing his anger was showing. “This fleet fights for victory, not pride. It is held together by honor and courage, the belief in what we fight for and the belief in each other. Pride is nothing by itself. Nothing but a weapon in our enemy’s hands, a weapon he will gladly use to help bring about our destruction.”

  Silence fell. Numos seemed to have a glint of satisfaction lurking in the back of his eyes, as if he thought he’d scored points against Geary. Geary calmed himself, knowing he couldn’t afford to lose his temper. He looked along the long, long lines of captains whose images appeared to be seated at the table, trying to judge whether he’d harmed his standing, and not knowing what else he could’ve said. “If I may continue, the Syndics don’t know we’ve come to Kaliban. It’ll be another few days before they even realize we didn’t go to Yuon. Only then will they start looking elsewhere for us. We need to use that time to replenish whatever stocks we can. Our auxiliaries,” he nodded toward the place where Captain Tyrosian sat, “are going to see what raw materials they can gather, while they also devote time to manufacturing more of the things this fleet needs and getting it distributed to the ships that need it.”

  “Captain Tyrosian’s in charge of the auxiliaries division? What happened to Captain Gundel?” an officer asked. He was looking at Tyrosian with a puzzled, not hostile, expression.

  “Captain Gundel has been assigned to assist me with a long-range assessment of this fleet’s needs,” Geary answered. “He’s transferring to Titan.”

  “I heard Gundel had been relieved of command,” another officer challenged.

  Word travels fast. That hasn’t changed since my time. Geary looked back toward Tyrosian. “Fleet regulations prohibit having an officer serve as a ship’s commanding officer and in a staff assignment. Therefore, I was required to give command of Jinn to Captain Gundel’s executive officer. Captain Gundel,” Geary added, “agreed with all of these changes.”

  Tyrosian, unused to being the center of attention at such meetings, simply nodded.

  “Will Captain Gundel say that if he’s asked?” the officer continued.

  “If you don’t regard my own statements as sufficiently reliable,” Geary stated dryly, “feel free to contact Captain Gundel. But I should advise you that he’s likely to tell you he’s too busy to deal with many interruptions.”

  Smiles broke out around the table. As Geary had guessed, many commanding officers had been forced to deal with Captain Gundel while he was in charge of the auxiliaries, and they all knew the point of Geary’s half-disguised barb.

  The challenger could see the smiles, too, and obviously realized he wouldn’t have many allies in protesting against Gundel’s transfer. “That’s fine. I just wanted to be sure, that’s all.”

  “Good.” Geary looked slowly around the table. From the majority of the expressions, he’d maintained his hold on the fleet for now. But too many seem to be sympathetic to what Numos was saying. Why? They’re not stupid. But too many seem very unhappy that we didn’t fight at Corvus, common sense and simple smarts be damned. All right. If they want to fight, they’ll need to learn how. “We’re going to do something else while we’re here.”

  Everyone watched him, some eagerly and some warily. “I’ve had the opportunity to watch the fleet in action.” Now was the time for the most diplomatic language Geary could muster. He wished he’d been able to trust Rione enough on internal fleet politics to have her help him with the wording. “The courage of the personnel and the capabilities of the ships of this fleet are truly impressive. You have much to be proud of.” He threw that last sentence in on the spur of the moment, trying to regain the high ground on that issue from Numos. “Our goal isn’t just victory in battle. It’s inflicting the heaviest possible losses on the enemy while suffering the fewest possible losses ourselves. There are things we can do to maximize our ability to win those kind of victories.”

  The wariness was still there on the faces of his ship commanders. Geary called up another display, showing battle formations he’d once practiced, learning how to coordinate groups of ships to bring them together at decisive points. He’d thought a long time about this, about how to tell them they didn’t know how to fight a battle worth a damn. “Coordination, teamwork, and ship formations that allow us to take the best advantages of those qualities. It takes a lot of practice to carry these off right, but the payoff will be that the Syndics won’t be prepared to defend against them.”

  “We can put ships in those formations,” someone objected, “but they’re worse than useless without someone who can coordinate action across light-minutes in the face of an enemy who’s acting and reacting. That’s the problem. It always gets too difficult with the time-late information. We’ve got the basic concepts laid down in tactical guides, but nobody actually knows how to work those formations anymore.”

  Commander Cresida of the Furious s
poke for the first time. “That’s been true, but I believe we now have someone who does know how to do that. Someone who learned it a long time ago.” She looked at Geary with a grim smile.

  He could see the realization ripple around the virtual length of the table. Even Numos and Faresa seemed momentarily unable to come up with a rebuttal. Time to seize the moment. “We can do this. It’ll take work. We’re going to run simulations and exercises while we’re in this system. Practice fleet engagements. Yes, there’re some tricks I know that don’t seem to have survived to this point in the war. I can show them to you, and then we can all surprise the Syndics.”

  Despite a scattering of skeptical expressions, most of the ship commanders seemed relieved and interested. “We’ll go through formations, practice battles, maneuvering.” At the mention of practice battles, even more of them perked up, as if Geary’s interest in preparing for combat relieved them of some concerns. “I’ll set up a schedule for those,” continued Geary. “It’ll be intense, because I don’t know how long we’ll have to practice. Any questions?”

  “Where are we going from here?” Captain Tulev asked.

  “That’s still under consideration. As you know, we’ve got several options.”

  “Then you’re not worried about having to leave Kaliban in a hurry?” Tulev gave Geary a look that clearly communicated that he knew the answer Geary was going to give.

  Geary smiled slowly back, grateful for Tulev setting up an opportunity for a strong answer. “We’ll leave Kaliban when we damn well feel like it, Captain.”

  A sort of cheer erupted around the table as most of the ship commanders expressed their approval of the sentiment. Geary kept his smile, even as he felt relief at apparently having succeeded in telling these men and women that they needed a lot of training without harming their pride in themselves and their abilities. “That’s all. I’m working out the schedule for combat exercises and will transmit it to all ships when it’s ready.”

  Captain Desjani stood, nodded to Geary, and walked quickly from the room, scanning her data pad for the latest actions required of the captain of the Dauntless. The images of the other ship commanders began vanishing rapidly as they raced off to let their own subordinates know the outcome of the meeting. Geary focused on one officer and held up a restraining hand. “Captain Duellos, a private word if you please.”

  Duellos nodded in assent, his image “walking” toward Geary while those of the other remaining commanding officers vanished like a rapidly bursting cluster of bubbles, and the apparent size of the compartment shrank back to its real proportions. “Yes, Captain Geary?”

  Geary rubbed his neck, trying to decide how to ask his question. “I’d appreciate your assessment of something. During that meeting there was talk of pride and of us refusing to engage at Corvus. How do you feel about that?”

  Duellos canted his head to regard Geary. “You particularly value my opinion? I cannot claim to be representative of the opinions of all of the other captains in the fleet.”

  “I know that. I’d like to know what you think, and what you think the others think.”

  “Very well.” Duellos twisted up one corner of his mouth. “I understood what you said of pride. But you must understand that pride is one of the touchstones of this fleet.”

  “I never said they shouldn’t be proud!” Geary threw his hands upward in annoyance.

  This time both corners of Duellos’s mouth twitched upward momentarily as if he were trying to find humor in the situation. “No. But the importance of pride cannot be discounted. There have been times, Captain Geary, when our pride was all that kept us going.”

  Geary shook his head, looking away. “I respect you far too much to think that empty pride is the only motivator you could call on. I think what you call pride is something much more than that. Belief in yourselves, perhaps, or perseverance in the face of adversity. Those are things to be proud of. That’s not the same as being proud.”

  Duellos sighed. “I fear we’ve lost the ability to distinguish between those things. Lost it somewhere along the way from your time to now. War warps things, and human minds are far from the least of the things it twists.”

  “Then do you also think we should’ve engaged the Syndics in Corvus?”

  “No. Absolutely not. That would’ve been foolish for the reasons you pointed out. But…” Duellos hesitated. “May I speak frankly?”

  “Of course. I’m asking you this because I trust you to speak the truth to me.”

  Duellos made the very brief smile again. “I can’t claim to always know what truth is. I can only tell you what I believe it to be. You must understand that while most of the commanding officers in the fleet believe deeply in Black Jack Geary, many wonder if you are still that man. Patience,” he added as Geary made to speak. “I understand you never were that man. But they look for the qualities of Black Jack Geary in your actions.”

  Geary thought about that for a moment. “And if they don’t see what they think of as Black Jack’s qualities in me?”

  “They will question your ability to continue in command of this fleet,” Duellos stated flatly. “Since your assumption of command, there have been those who have spread rumors that you are a hollow man, damaged by the long period of survival sleep, an empty, wasted vestige of the great hero. If you come to be perceived to be lacking in the will to engage the enemy, it will give great strength to those rumors that your spirit has fled your body.”

  “Hell.” Geary rubbed his face with both hands. As much as he hated being held up as a figure of legend, being labeled some sort of soulless zombie didn’t strike him as any improvement. And such a label could critically damage his ability to command the fleet. “Is anybody contesting these rumors?”

  “Of course, sir. But words from such as me mean nothing to those who doubt you. Those who can be swayed are looking to your actions.”

  Geary threw up his hands in exasperation again. “I can’t fault that on principle, can I? I won’t ask you who those rumor-mongers are because I’m sure you wouldn’t tell me. Captain Duellos, I took this command to get the fleet home. If I can do that without fighting a big engagement, it’ll mean I did that without losing any more ships.”

  Duellos eyed him for a long moment. “Captain Geary, getting the fleet home is hardly an end in itself. I won’t pretend that it’s not a matter of great importance, but the fleet exists to fight. The Syndics must be defeated if this war is to end. Any damage we can do to them on our way home will benefit the Alliance. And sooner or later, this fleet must engage the Syndics again.”

  Geary stood for a long moment, his head full of darkness, then nodded heavily. “I understand.”

  “It’s not that we want to die far from home, you understand.” Duellos actually mustered a wry smile this time.

  “Actually, I do.” Geary tapped his left chest, where few ribbons adorned his uniform in contrast to the row upon row of action awards that Duellos wore. The unmistakable pale blue of the Alliance Medal of Honor stood out among them, the award for his “last battle” that Geary didn’t believe he’d earned but which regulations required him to wear. “You’ve all grown up with this. Fighting and dying is something you accept as a fact of life. My mind-set’s still back a century ago, when peace was the norm and all-out war only a possibility. For me, combat was a theory game, where the referees would tote up points at the end to decide winners and losers, and then everybody would go have drinks together and lie about how brilliant their tactics had been. Now it’s all real. Everything at Grendel happened so fast that I didn’t have time to think about being in a war.” He grimaced. “Your fleet is far larger than the fleet that existed in my time. I could, in one battle, lose more sailors than were in the entire fleet I knew. So I’m still adjusting to this, to being thrown into a very long-lived war.”

  A shadow fell across Duellos’s expression. “I envy you, sir,” he stated softly.

  Geary nodded and gave Duellos a thin-lipped smile. “Yeah. I
don’t really have grounds to complain about that, do I? Thank you for your candor, Captain Duellos. I appreciate your frank insights.”

  Duellos made to step away in preparation for his image to vanish, then paused. “May I ask what you will do if a Syndic force appears in Kaliban?”

  “Evaluate my options and choose the best one based on the exact circumstances.”

  “Of course. I am sure you will make a ‘spirited’ decision, sir.” Duellos saluted, and his image disappeared.

  Geary, alone again in a room where practically no one else had actually been present, spent a long time staring at the star display still floating above the conference table.

  NINE

  Even the Alliance engineering experts had to concede that the Syndic facilities in Kaliban had been efficiently mothballed. Equipment had been powered down, power supplies disconnected or removed, everything else packed up or put away, the atmosphere inside the facilities rendered as dry as possible, then the atmosphere had been vented from the facilities before they were sealed again. Everything was in deep freeze, but also protected from the ravages of temperature variations, corrosive gases, and other threats.

  Images from the facilities seemed at first glance to show darkened rooms that someone could’ve just left after a long day of work. It was only when Geary took note of the unnatural sharpness with which everything could be seen and the way in which light beams didn’t diffuse as they would in atmosphere that he could tell from the images alone that the facilities were airless.