* * *
HE woke up in the late, late hours of the night, at that time when everything felt hushed. Gazing at the ceiling through the dimness, he tried to grasp the memory of a dream that was fading so quickly he was left with no recollection of the dream itself. All he still knew was the feeling it left in its wake.
“What’s the matter?” Tanya, next to him.
He reached to hold her close. “I’m sorry I woke you.”
“I’m a ship’s captain,” she said, her voice low, her breath warm against his face. “I have hair-trigger wake-up reflexes. What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. I had a dream.”
“About what?”
“I don’t remember.” He looked into the darkness. “I was happy. No. Comforted. It was all right. Everything was all right. That’s all I can remember. That feeling. It was just a dream.”
“Just a dream?” She sighed, her body moving against him.
How many times did he dream about that when they were aboard the ship and couldn’t even touch?
“Jack, it wasn’t just a dream.” Tanya sounded as confident as always. “You’re home. It welcomed you. This is where your ancestors’ spirits gather. They welcomed you. Of course you felt comforted.”
“I hope you’re right.”
“I’m always right.”
He laughed and kissed her, and she kissed him back. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” he asked.
“That it’d be a shame to just go back to sleep?” she murmured.
* * *
THE next morning, before heading out to fulfill his many public obligations, Geary took Tanya to a narrow section of wall in one room. He ran his fingers across the molding next to it, found the catch, and pressed it.
The section swung open, revealing steps leading down.
“What the hell is this?” Tanya asked, looking down the stairs.
“A secret passage,” he said, grinning.
“You got to grow up in a house with a secret passage?”
“Sure did.” He reached in to turn on the lights. “Family legend says Lyn insisted on having a secret passage in the house when it was built.”
“She was a serious code monkey, right? Because that sounds like something a programmer would do,” Tanya said.
He led the way down, noting that the stairs showed signs of not having been cleaned for a few years, but only a few. “It looks like my brother Michael passed on the secret to his kids, and they passed it on to his grandkids.” The stairs ended in a large room, with sturdy furniture of timeless design, and walls lined with real books as well as entertainment and other computer gear, some of it old enough to be original with the house but other pieces much newer. Geary went to an open section of wall, smiling as he looked at it despite the ache it brought inside him. “Another tradition. We all signed our names here when we were let in on the secret. Generation after generation. There’s mine. And there’s where my brother signed.”
“This is so cool,” Tanya said. “You have a secret passage leading to a secret underground . . . what is this? Just one room?”
“No, there are other rooms. A kitchen, a bathroom, a storeroom. And another passage that comes out a ways outside the house.”
“Does all of this gear still work?” she asked, waving around the room.
“It did when I lived here,” Geary said. “Oh, if you link into the home network, you never know when some hidden subroutine planted by Lyn will activate and mess with you. Those all still worked when I lived here, too.”
“Your great-whatever-grandmother turned herself into a cyber-poltergeist who’s still haunting the home network?” Tanya said. “We are going to live on this planet. In this house. This is where our kids get to grow up. Not in a high-rise on Kosatka where the only hidden passages are maintenance shafts and all the computer problems are caused by bad programming.”
“I’m good with that.” He picked up the pen resting at the bottom of the wall. Was it the same one he’d used? Unlikely, given how long it’d been. “Are you going to sign?”
“I get to sign?” Tanya grabbed the pen and carefully wrote her name next to where his had been placed well over a century ago. “This wall is like a totally disorganized family tree, isn’t it?”
“I guess so. You’ve now been officially let in on the family secrets.”
“I guess that means you’re stuck with me,” she said.
“Lucky me.”
* * *
OUTSIDE, the sun shone brightly down on the crowds waiting to catch a glimpse of him. They cheered. He smiled and waved. The police holding back the crowds smiled and waved. Council President Kennedy, standing next to a limo, smiled and waved.
Smiling faces, Geary couldn’t help thinking. But, in this case, the smiles were very likely all real.
“Good morning, Admiral,” Kennedy said. “And good morning, um . . .”
“Captain,” Tanya said. “Captain Tanya Desjani.”
“Captain! Yes. I wasn’t certain how you preferred to be addressed.” Ushering them into the limo and then following, Kennedy relaxed in his seat as the vehicle surged into motion.
Geary, better rested than the day before, examined the limo’s interior, seeing indications that it was only lightly armored. Real windows of thick material showed the outside world and the many people waving as the limo went by. He realized they could see him, and raised his hand to wave back.
“You need to do what they call the royal wave,” Council President Kennedy advised, raising his own hand and moving it gently a little ways back and forth. “Otherwise you get tired out really fast. Captain, you already seem to know how to do it.”
Tanya nodded, her raised hand moving slightly. “Old Family on Kosatka,” she explained. “We got to visit with the royal family. One of the princesses showed me the trick when we were kids.”
“Desjani!” Kennedy said. “Of course! I should have made the connection. What do you think of Glenlyon?”
“It’s lovely,” she said.
“We’ve decided to retire here someday,” Geary added, knowing that was what Kennedy wanted to know.
“Praise our ancestors,” Kennedy said, looking relieved. “It’s . . . well, it’s important to everyone here. With the house empty these last few years, people worried. There’s always been Gearys on Glenlyon. Legend says the first person to set foot on the planet was your ancestor, Admiral.”
“Really?” Geary laughed. “That’s a new one on me.”
“Legends tend to acquire details as time goes on,” Kennedy said. “History forgets details, and legends acquire more of them. People are like that.” He gave Geary a sharp look. “These aliens you’ve met. Are they like people?”
“Yes and no,” he said. “Figuring out how they think is the biggest challenge. But they seem to have characteristics we can identify with.”
“Any chance you’ll be able to bring some here? Those cute ones, the, uh . . .”
“The Kicks?” Tanya said, startled.
“No,” Kennedy said, hauling out his personal pad to check. “The Ursataurians. They look like they’d be good neighbors to humanity.”
“Like little bear-cows?” Tanya asked. “When did the Kicks start getting called Ursataurians?”
“It’s something combining the scientific names for bears and cows,” Kennedy said. “What does Kicks mean?”
Tanya gave him a look. Geary cleared his throat. “It’s a slang term the fleet has used,” he said, not wanting to explain it was a phonetic for Crazy Killer Cows. “There’s no chance of any of them coming here. They’re extremely hostile, very dangerous. They refused all attempts at communication.”
“And did their very best to kill us on sight,” Tanya added cheerfully. “They kill everything that isn’t part of their herd, or used by their herd. I think ‘fanatical’ is the
right word, isn’t it, Admiral?”
“Yes,” Geary said, unhappy to learn the idea that the Kicks were friendly because they were cute was this widespread. “We did our best to speak to them, and they didn’t want any part of it.”
“Oh,” Council President Kennedy said. “Well, perhaps when diplomats contact them they’ll have better luck.”
Geary sighed. “That’s unlikely. As Captain Desjani said, they refused to talk to us, and just kept attacking. We managed to capture a few alive, and they immediately committed suicide. Believe me, we wanted to talk to them. We didn’t want to fight. But to them we’re predators, not part of their herd. It’s going to be very difficult to establish any relations with them.”
“The aliens who’ve proven friendly,” Tanya said, “are the Dancers.”
Geary gave her a did-you-have-to look. “Yes. Natural engineers, and they seem to share common values with us.”
“Dancers?” Kennedy asked. “Wait, are those the spiders?”
“They’re not spiders.”
“They’re more like a cross between spiders and wolves,” Tanya said, clearly enjoying herself.
“They have common values with us? Really?” Kennedy said.
“Really,” Geary said. “As far as we can tell. They’ve provided valuable assistance to us in battle, fighting alongside us. And they’re willing to talk to us.”
“Maybe they want our technology.”
“No,” Geary said. “All indications are that their technology is superior to ours.” If he was going to turn around appearance prejudices, he’d have to start with each person he talked to. That was probably why Tanya had goaded him into doing this. “I know how they look is jarring. But inside they’re the closest to us of any alien species we’ve yet encountered.”
Council President Kennedy frowned in thought. “You know a lot more than I do, of course. Still . . .” He laughed. “You know, given what people have done to each other, maybe saying they’re like us isn’t the best recommendation!”
“You’ve got a point there,” Geary said.
“We’re still looking for something better than us,” Tanya said. “Maybe intelligent life is inherently complicated.”
“That I would believe,” Kennedy said. “It’s a little difficult to think something that looks like the . . . the Dancers is friendly, but my best friend would never be called handsome and there’s no one I can count on more. So, that’s two alien species. There’s a third, right?”
“Yes,” Geary said. “We call them the enigmas, because they are obsessed with not letting anyone learn anything about them, and we still know very little. We’ve tried reaching out to them without success so far.”
“They’re afraid of us because we’re curious,” Tanya said. “That’s what we think. They don’t want other species knowing anything about them, and we’re a species that always wants to learn things.”
“That’s a tough one,” Council President Kennedy said. “And yet it’s so amazing you actually found three intelligent alien species! Do you think there are more out there beyond where humanity has gone?”
“I wouldn’t be surprised,” Geary said.
“Here I am talking about aliens when you’re finally home,” Kennedy said. “I hope we haven’t overscheduled you, Admiral. There are so many people in so many places that want to see you.”
“I understand,” Geary said, trying not to show how little he was looking forward to all of that.
Tanya leaned close to murmur in his ear. “Be strong.”
* * *
IT wasn’t until the day after that an event he’d particularly dreaded took place. Glenlyon had indeed built a statue of him. He wouldn’t have gone anywhere near it except that he had been scheduled to lay a wreath at the site in honor of those from Glenlyon who’d died during the war. Even if he could have wriggled out of that he wouldn’t have. It was the least he could do.
But it took all of his self-control to keep his expression properly respectful as he walked past the statue. It was larger than life, and so taller than he really was. The statue portrayed Black Jack standing, shoulders back, head tilted upward to gaze toward space. One arm was raised, the hand clenched into a defiant fist. The other arm extended out a little, forever frozen in a dramatic sweeping gesture. The face of the statue was set in lines of heroic determination.
It also didn’t look all that much like his face, he thought.
Tanya must have felt the same way. “I guess that Black Jack was a really handsome fellow.”
“Too bad you didn’t end up with him,” Geary muttered.
“I wouldn’t have wanted him,” Tanya said. “He’s not human.”
She had a point, he thought as he solemnly placed the wreath. In their zeal to portray Black Jack as the greatest hero of all time, the creators of the statue had robbed him of humanity.
He dropped all thought of the statue as he adjusted the position of the wreath and then stepped back, turning to face those watching. In his mind, he didn’t see the crowd, but rather all of those he’d known who he would never meet again in this life, from those who’d died aboard Merlon to those lost at Unity Alternate a hundred years later. “May their sacrifices always be remembered, their memories always honored,” he said, trying not to choke up.
But his feelings could be heard in his voice, and the applause that followed told him that these people approved of a hero who rather than being perfect felt the same emotions they did.
* * *
PUBLIC encounters over the next few days became a blur of old places he’d remembered and new places built over the last century, and of a seemingly endless number of meetings with people who claimed some connection to him. It felt as if most of the population of the planet had grandparents or granduncles or grandaunts who’d claimed to have gone to school with him. “You must have attended some really huge schools,” Tanya commented after another such encounter.
“I don’t remember so many people wanting to claim association with me,” Geary said. “Especially not in high school.”
They’d finally gotten home after another long day of public appearances and another excruciatingly long formal dinner. He was sitting in the main room in what looked like a familiar chair, which meant it must have been reupholstered at least once since he’d last sat in it. Tanya stood by one window, looking out from the back of the house at the grass and trees there. “What was it like when you left this planet the last time?” she asked.
He paused, trying to remember that day a century past. “I was on my way to assume command of Merlon, the heavy cruiser I lost at Grendel.”
“I wish you wouldn’t put it like that. You always make it sound like a defeat.”
“I guess because it felt that way at the time,” he said. “Anyway, I had a couple of weeks to come home and see my parents and my brother.”
“And Aileen,” she teased.
“I saw her one time,” he said. “The day I left . . .” He hesitated, surprised by how vivid the memories suddenly became. “I got up really early because the shuttle I needed to catch was lifting about sunrise. Mom and Dad got up to see me off. I thought I’d see them again in another couple of years, but that’d be a while, so we made sure we said our farewells. It was still dark when I left here. I remember how quiet the street was when the ride came. It took me to the launch field, the same field my ancestors had used, and my parents before me. The sun was just coming up when I walked up the ramp into the shuttle. It was beautiful. There was a cold wind, though.”
She turned her head to look back at him. “No one was there to see you off?”
“No. Hardly anyone was there at all. The only other passengers on the shuttle were contract employees commuting to work on the orbital facility. I was the only person in uniform.”
“That’s weird,” Tanya said. “All of my life there’ve been a lot of
people in uniform around. Forgive my saying so, but it sounds like you were lonely.”
“I was.” Geary shrugged. “At the time the military wasn’t a, uh, high-prestige way of making a living. It wasn’t any way to get rich, that’s for sure. And I knew how much demand on my life being commanding officer of Merlon would require, so I didn’t think it was fair to expect any partner to put up with that.”
She laughed. “Instead you ended up marrying a ship’s captain. I admit you’re a lot of work sometimes, but you’re worth making time for. So there wasn’t anyone special you left behind? I mean, outside of family?”
“No.” He inhaled deeply, thinking about it. “That would’ve made it so much harder. Even if there’d been a close girlfriend. Imagine if I’d had a wife and children. Knowing they’d grown old and died while I was locked in survival sleep. That would’ve been . . . very hard to live with. So I guess I was lucky that I was lonely at the time.”
“You know how I feel about that.” She walked over and sat down next to him. “You and I were meant to be together. We were born at the wrong times, though. So that had to be fixed. I’m sorry the burden of that fell on you.”
“I doubt that the living stars cared so much about my happiness,” Geary said. “I do wish my parents could’ve met you.”
“We met the first night I was here,” she said, absolutely serious. “Couldn’t you feel it?”
“Maybe,” he said. “You really want our kids to grow up here?”
“Where they can be haunted by the cyber-ghost of their ancestor? Hell, yes. Two or three, I think. Does that sound good?”
“It sounds great. When are we going to start?”
“Not until we get back from this latest mission,” Tanya said. “At the earliest. Is it okay to admit I miss my ship?”
“You missed that ship the moment you stepped off her deck,” he said.
Boundless Page 17
