Half a world died in the space of seconds.
“It’s possible that people in deep enough shelter on the exposed side might have survived the shock wave’s hitting,” a watch-stander reported.
“What about the aftermath?” Rione demanded.
The watch-stander grimaced. “A lot of them will be trapped. Food supplies are gone, the atmosphere appreciably thinned worldwide, all that water vapor and ash blown into the air. There are going to be some horrendous storms. I don’t know, Madam Co-President. The people on the sheltered side might stand a chance even though life will get awfully rough. The ones who got hit . . . Well, I wouldn’t want to have been there when it hit, and I wouldn’t want to be there trying to survive.”
Geary nodded. “And that was only a point one three nova-scale output of energy. Way toward the low end of the possible output.”
Desjani had her eyes on the display, her face rigid, but she said nothing as she gazed at the image of a ruined world.
“Seeing this,” Rione observed in a quiet voice, “it’s hard to see them as enemies. They just look like people who need help.”
Geary nodded again, silently.
“Can we render any assistance?” Rione asked.
This time he shook his head. “Unfortunately, I have experience with this. When I was a junior officer, the star in the Cirinci system spat out a big flare that fried most of the facing parts of the primary inhabited planet in that star system. ” No one on Dauntless’s bridge seemed to recognize the event, a more-than-a-century-old tragedy lost to popularly remembered history in the wake of the many disasters that had followed as war raged for decade after decade.
Fighting off the old feeling of being lost among strangers, his own life vanished in time, Geary used one hand to indicate the display. “Cirinci wasn’t this bad, from what I can see, but we had to run out the disaster-relief requirements to see what the fleet could do, and the answer kept coming up not very damn much. The Alliance government had to requisition lots of civilian freighters to carry the relief-and-rebuilding supplies, and even then it all took too long. I think the only military assets that ended up being used were some of the big troop transports to bring in relief workers and haul out evacuees. Even if this fleet was fully stocked, and it’s far from that, everything we could do would be a drop in the bucket compared to what the surviving people in this star system need. And we couldn’t expect much in the way of gratitude from the Syndic leaders. They’d still do their level best to destroy us if we lingered here.”
Rione sighed. “There’s nothing that can be done?”
“We’ll tell every Syndic system we pass through that they need help here.” Geary pointed to his display. “Some Syndic merchant ships survived the shock wave. They sheltered behind available worlds, either by luck or because they got our warning in time. Those ships can go for help.”
“Yes. They’ll tell everyone what happened here.” Rione’s eyes met his, and Geary nodded once more.
It was no longer a matter of trying to keep secret the destructive potential of collapsing hypernet gates, but rather a matter of dealing with the results of the knowledge of that spreading as fast as humans could pass on reports of disaster.
Desjani finally spoke again. “The Syndic leaders.” She turned a hard gaze on Geary. “After Sancere, some of them surely suspected what destroying this gate could do to this star system. But they ordered it here anyway, and apparently told no one what to expect. If the energy burst had been strong enough, everyone in this star system would have died and no one could have reported what really happened.” Her eyes returned to the display of the devastated world. “This isn’t war. It’s an atrocity, committed on these people by their own leaders in an attempt to destroy this fleet.”
There wasn’t much he could say to that except to nod once more in silent agreement.
Desjani spoke again, her tone abrupt. “There could be Alliance prisoners of war on that world. Some of them could’ve been brought there after our battles here nearly two weeks ago.”
Geary’s eyes went back to the image of the ruined world. He forced out an answer. “If they were on the side of the planet that got hit, they’re beyond finding and beyond help.”
“What if they’re on the other side?” Desjani swung on her watch-standers, barking out orders. “I want a fine-grain analysis of that world prior to the shock wave hitting for any signs of a prisoner-of-war encampment or indications of Alliance personnel being held anywhere. Optics, communications, everything!”
“Captain, analysis of the planet prior to the shock wave’s hitting it didn’t reveal any such indications—”
“Do it again! If there’s an Alliance flea alive on that world, I want to know it!”
Desjani’s voice echoed on the suddenly silent bridge, then her watch-standers hastily acknowledged the orders and jumped to their tasks. As Desjani slumped in her captain’s chair, glaring at her display, Rione eyed her somberly, then left the bridge without another word. Geary hesitated, reading Desjani’s mood of frustration and outrage at what had happened in this star system, then left silently as well. Sometimes even the closest friends needed distance.
Geary wandered through the passageways of Dauntless for a while, feeling depressed and restless. He’d just been coming out of his postvictory low caused by the inevitable cost of any victory when the sight of the destruction wreaked by the hypernet gate’s collapse had made him dejected again.
The crew members he met were subdued as well, but also giddy with the relief of survival and victory. In days to come, the extent of the victory would sink in and elation would follow, but for now everyone was mostly just glad to be alive and still have a chance of getting home. They seemed to regard Geary with even more awe than he’d encountered on any previous occasion. Not able to stand much of that, Geary retreated to the only sure shelter available.
When he finally reached his stateroom, craving some time alone, Rione was already there and staring at the star display, her attitude distant. “My condolences on the losses to the fleet,” she stated in a low voice.
“Thanks.” Geary sat down, keeping his own eyes fixed on the display, not wanting to be around anyone else at the moment or to talk about his fleet’s latest losses. Not when memories of the destruction caused by the hypernet gate’s collapse were still fresh in his mind as well.
“As far as I can tell,” Rione continued, “Captain Faresa died on Majestic.”
“Nobody got off that ship,” Geary responded shortly.
“And Captain Kerestes died on Warrior along with Commander Suram.”
That stung. Kerestes had been aggressively passive, something Geary had once thought impossible, so afraid of making a mistake that he took every effort to avoid doing anything. By contrast, in his short time as captain of Warrior , Commander Suram had motivated her dispirited crew and fought well. “I intend doing everything I can to ensure that Commander Suram receives the credit he deserves as commanding officer of that ship. Captain Kerestes had no role in the matter.” Geary wondered briefly if Kerestes had even survived long enough to be among those trying to abandon ship. It was just as likely that he’d died in his stateroom as Syndic hell lances ravaged Warrior, a career dedicated to avoiding any action that might look bad ending at the hands of enemy warships that didn’t care whether or not Captain Kerestes had a service record unblemished by any obvious blunders.
“And Captain Falco?” Rione asked.
Geary almost winced, thinking of the insane Captain Falco, confined to his quarters as Warrior fought her final battle. He hadn’t yet discovered what Falco’s last moments had been like, or even if anyone knew. “I hated what that man did, but that’s no way for anyone to die.”
“Most likely he was safely wrapped in his delusions,” Rione suggested. “Believing he was commanding the battle, going down to heroic defeat, fighting to the last. Not realizing how little he really controlled his fate.”
Geary didn’t look at her. ?
??Are you mocking him?”
“No. I sometimes wonder how different Falco’s delusions would be from what you and I are doing.” She paused. “Faresa, Kerestes, and Falco have died in battle. At least that spares you the worry of three court-martials if we make it back to Alliance space.”
His temper boiled over. “Dammit, Victoria, if you’re trying to find a silver lining in this, you’re not doing a very good job! I didn’t want two ships to die so those three could find some measure of justice! I don’t even know what the hell justice would be for Falco!”
She stayed silent for a moment after his outburst. “I know you looked at records from Falco’s past, before he was captured by the Syndics. You saw his speeches. Triumphantly celebrating so-called victories in which dozens of major Alliance warships were destroyed in exchange for at best equal numbers of Syndics. Do you think he would spend a single moment worrying about the loss of a few battleships?”
“That’s not the point,” Geary objected bitterly.
“No, of course not. You don’t judge yourself in relation to people like Falco.” Rione exhaled slowly. “As far as I can tell, all three of those officers did indeed die on their ships.”
The idea that they might not have hadn’t even occurred to Geary. “Is there some reason to think they didn’t?”
Her smile held no humor. “A suspicious mind. Had Captain Faresa had time, I think her sympathizers among the crew would’ve helped her get off Majestic. But no one had such an opportunity. Those seeking to use Falco might have tried to get him off of Warrior, but . . .” She paused. “A fool and insane, but his last act was to refuse the chance to be evacuated from Warrior. You hadn’t heard? A few witnesses survived. Falco declared it his duty to remain with Warrior, though it’s hard to say if he truly realized what was happening. I suppose we can be charitable to the dead and assume he did.”
Geary had no trouble believing it. He could see in his imagination Captain Falco moving dramatically through the shattered passageways of Warrior, Falco’s practiced expression of confident camaraderie being turned to the officers and sailors with him awaiting their doom. The perfect theatrical role, and if Falco had recovered any of his sanity long enough to realize the fate that awaited him in Alliance space, perhaps a welcome chance to find his end as a dead hero rather than in disgrace at a court-martial. But, knowingly or not, he had chosen to die well and given his space in an escape pod to someone else who had lived as a result. “No one living knows what his last thoughts were like, so I don’t see any reason not to grant him that.” Geary frowned slightly as a thought occurred to him. “Is that right? There’s no one alive who saw enough of him to tell?”
Rione frowned back. “How would I know?”
“You’ve obviously heard from eyewitnesses. You must have had some of your spies on those ships, too.”
Her expression twitched, then settled back in emotionless lines. “Had. Past tense. One got off Warrior. Nobody got off Majestic, as you already noted.”
Hell. “I should have realized that your spies on those ships died along with everyone else that didn’t get off. I’m sorry.”
She nodded once, still revealing no feelings. “They ran the same risks as everyone else in this fleet.”
Geary glared at her, his nerves stretched to their limit. “Sometimes you act like a cold-blooded bitch.”
Rione returned an impassive glance. “And you prefer your bitches warm-blooded?”
“Dammit, Victoria—”
She held up one hand. “We all deal with our pain in our own ways, John Geary. You and I handle that very differently. ”
“Yeah, we do.” He looked down at the deck, knowing he was still frowning. Something else was bothering him, something he hadn’t connected yet. Something about the Alliance fleet’s losses. Majestic, Warrior, Utap, Vambrace . . . Vambrace?
He must have reacted as realization hit, because Rione spoke in a gentler tone. “What’s the matter now?”
“I just remembered something.” The heavy cruiser Vambrace , the ship to which Lieutenant Casell Riva had been transferred from Furious. A Syndic prisoner for almost ten years, liberated from a Syndic labor camp by this fleet and brought to Lakota, perhaps dead now. He tried to recall how many crew had gotten off Vambrace before she blew up. Had Riva been among them? Desjani hadn’t said anything, even though she’d surely realized much sooner than he had.
“Something?” Rione pressed.
“It’s a personal personnel issue.” He had to pronounce the words carefully so they made sense to her. “I’m sorry for blowing up at you.” Rione stayed quiet for so long that Geary looked up finally, seeing her watching him. “What?”
“Can you keep going?” she asked.
“Of course I can.”
“Of course?” Rione shook her head. “We took significant losses again, and I know the havoc created on the inhabited world in this star system by the destruction of the hypernet gate weighs heavily on you. For a long time after assuming command of this fleet, you were balanced on a knife-edge, ready to fall off if the pressure grew too great. You weren’t used to the sort of combat losses the Alliance has become accustomed to, so each ship lost weighed very heavily on you. You needed someone to prop you up, to keep you going, and for a while I filled that role, both as an ally to turn to and as an adversary to be bested. I don’t anymore.”
“Excuse me?” He studied her, trying to figure out what Rione was saying.
“Why are you fighting?” Rione asked, turning to face the star display again.
“For the people in this fleet. For the Alliance. You know that.”
“I know that those things are abstractions. You don’t know a fraction of the people in this fleet. The Alliance you knew is changed, your own home altered in ways I know have worried you.” Rione glanced his way again. “You’re not fighting for abstractions. No one does. Humans pay lip service to that, to big causes and great purposes, but any politician of any skill soon learns that what really motivates people is the small, personal things. Close friends, family, the small area they call home. They wrap those things around ideals and call them precious, but they’re precious for the smallest and closest of reasons. Soldiers may swear to fight for their flag, but they really fight because of the soldiers next to them. You’ve found something like that, John Geary. Here in this fleet, some personal connection that gives you the strength and resolve to continue.”
Geary eyed her. “And just what is that connection?”
“Not what. Who. Someone besides me.” Rione was back to studying the stars. “I know who. I don’t think you know yet. Or you haven’t admitted it to yourself yet.”
“Then tell me.”
“No. You’ll figure it out eventually. Then you’ll have to deal with it. For now, I and this fleet need you at your best, so I just accept what is.” She took a deep breath, then turned to face him. “Where are you taking the fleet next?”
The sudden shift in topic startled him, but Geary wasn’t interested in pursuing whatever Rione’s idea of his personal connection could be, so he just pointed to the display. “You heard. We’re heading for the jump point for Branwyn.”
She raised one eyebrow. “That didn’t mean you were going to use that jump point. Your old objective from the first time we were in this star system. As close to a straight shot for Alliance space as you can manage.”
“That’s right. The Syndics should have enough major combatants left to bring us battle, and we know they’re building replacements for their losses despite what we did to the shipyards at Sancere because they have a lot of other shipyards in other star systems. But after what we did here, they’ll have to gather those ships. We should be able to transit Branwyn without much trouble, then go from there to Wendig. Branwyn is supposed to have a minimal Syndic presence left, and the records we’ve captured from the Syndics say that Wendig was completely abandoned almost thirty years ago. From there we’ll have a couple of options, but I’m leaning toward Cavalos. Ther
e’s a strong Syndic presence there, so they’ll probably expect us to avoid it.”
Rione nodded slowly. “I see. Will the mines the Syndics laid across the jump point to Branwyn during our first time in this star system be an obstacle?
“No.” Geary pointed to the display. “They laid those mines so close to the jump point they couldn’t maintain a stable position. We knew that then, but also that it would take a few weeks for the mines to drift away from the jump point, so it didn’t do us any good at that time.” He paused and gave a pained smile. “Hell, I’m an idiot. That energy discharge will have fried all the mines at all of the jump points in this star system. It wouldn’t matter if they were still in position or not.”
“Sadly, you’re surely right. If only that had been all the shock wave destroyed. Do you believe we’ll face many mines in the systems where you want to go?”
“Probably not. According to our intelligence people, if our estimates of the Syndic mine inventories are anywhere near accurate, they used up everything in their attempt to trap us in or near Lakota. They’ll have to manufacture a lot more and get them to where they think we’ll be before they can try that again.”
“Good.” She turned a demanding look on Geary. “That takes care of the Syndic threat. What about the aliens?”
“I don’t know.” Geary scowled at the virtual stars. “The aliens have actively intervened against us, and somehow they’re tracking this fleet’s movements, but I’m out of ideas at the moment.”
“As am I. You need to make more people aware of them and see what ideas they can contribute.” She obviously saw Geary’s surprise at the suggestion. “There are officers you can trust in this fleet. We can’t try to solve a problem like this alone.”
“That makes sense. A few have already been made aware of it, but I haven’t really had any chance to talk it over with that group.”
Rione nodded, obviously unsurprised by the news. Geary shook his head as he considered the implications of the alien attempt to destroy his fleet. Whatever they were, they clearly had technology superior to humanity’s. “I’m not sure whether to be glad that we haven’t detected any more moves against us by them or worried that we haven’t spotted anything those aliens are up to.”