“You’re probably right, since they came from either Anahalt or Dilawa.” Geary watched as the eight-light-hours-distant images of the Syndic formation could be seen coming around onto a new vector. The Syndics had already had eight hours to decide what to do and get started doing it. “It’s a standard Syndic box formation so far.”
“Maybe this CEO will be as stupid as the one at Kaliban,” Desjani suggested. That enemy commander had simply charged head-on at the superior numbers of the Alliance fleet, allowing Geary to annihilate the enemy forces by bringing all of his firepower to bear.
“That’d be nice,” Geary agreed, “but we can’t count on it. I’ve got a suspicion that we’re killing stupid CEOs faster than the Syndics are promoting them.”
“I’ve found it hard to overestimate the ability of any system to promote stupid people.”
With the promise of combat looming, Desjani was in a good enough mood to crack jokes, although Geary had to admit she had a point. “Let’s assume he or she isn’t stupid. Do you think they’ll try hitting our flanks with fast runs, or if I have the formation divided, will they try to hit one of the subformations head-on?”
Desjani considered that. “They’ve been taught to fight like we used to fight, with head-on charges. Even if they try something fancy, it’s more likely to be a charge against one portion of our formation rather than a firing pass against a flank or corner like you taught us. That’s what I’d expect.”
Ideally, he’d just concentrate his own fleet into one big formation for the Syndic to charge toward. But such a big formation wouldn’t allow all of his ships to engage the smaller enemy formation, negating a lot of his superiority. On the other hand, if the Syndic was going to aim for a subformation rather than going straight for the main body of the fleet, tactics like those at Kaliban wouldn’t work either. He’d have to use something different.
Rione reached the bridge then, pausing to look at the display before her seat before addressing Geary. “What do you plan on doing?”
Geary indicated his own display, where the sweeping arc of the Syndic formation’s projected course and speed was coming around and steadying on a vector that intercepted the arc of the Alliance fleet’s own path, the two curved lines bending across light-hours of distance to join like twin sabers clashing. “I plan on meeting the enemy, Madam Co-President, in a little less than a day and a half.”
Rione looked from her display with its readout of the enemy’s numbers, then to Geary, and shook her head. “It’s like fighting a hydra. No matter how many Syndic warships we destroy, there are always more.”
“They keep building them, and unlike us, they can get reinforcements,” Geary pointed out.
“I’d recommend trying to capture this CEO alive, Captain Geary. He or she may be able to answer some questions for us.”
“I’ll do my best, Madam Co-President.”
“CAPTAIN, we’re receiving a very tightly focused transmission from the direction of the primary inhabited world. It’s addressed to Captain Geary.”
Desjani gave him a wary look. They were still almost eight hours from contact with the Syndic flotilla, not having assumed their combat formation yet. “I’ll take it,” Geary advised. “Let Captain Desjani see it, too.”
The window that popped up before him showed an older woman seated at a desk, wearing a midrank Syndic CEO uniform. “I suppose you’re wondering why the senior Syndicate Worlds’ officer in this star system is communicating with you, Captain Geary, and doing it in a manner that minimizes any chance anyone else will discover that she did so.”
She gestured to a picture on the desk, of a young man Geary vaguely recognized. “I had a brother, long dead in an accident, I thought. Now I have a brother, and the knowledge that a corporation tied to a very senior Syndicate Worlds’ leader wrote off actually removing him and hundreds of his coworkers from Wendig because it shaved a small amount off the expenses column in that corporation’s annual report. I also have a sister-in-law and some nieces and a nephew I’d never known of, all of whom owe their lives to you.”
The face in the picture suddenly clicked in Geary’s mind. It was the mayor of Alpha, though decades younger.
The Syndic planetary CEO shook her head. “Not to mention all of the lives that would have been lost in this star system if you had chosen to bombard this planet. But I’ve heard from people in places like Corvus and Sutrah and even Sancere, so I know you’ve been behaving the same way everywhere, striking only at military targets or industrial sites in retaliation for our own attacks on you. I don’t know how many millions or billions of Syndicate Worlds’ citizens you might have easily killed, but I do know you didn’t do it.”
Now the Syndic planetary CEO smiled grimly. “Now I find myself thanking the Alliance fleet for all of those lives even though my orders are to take any actions that might cost you any ships or delay you in any way, regardless of the potential loss to the inhabitants of this star system. I’m well aware of the situation you find yourself in. We’ve been told a half dozen times that your fleet was trapped and soon to be destroyed. How you’ve made it this far the living stars alone know. That you came to be in command, Captain Geary, and the identification the Syndicate Worlds have been able to do on you seems positive, leads me to wonder if the living stars have actually intervened in this war. That you took a force built for war and used it to save the lives of your enemies causes me to be grateful that they have.
“I owe you, Captain Geary, and I believe in repaying debts. Your fleet is headed for an engagement with a substantial Syndicate Worlds’ force, but one you outnumber significantly. Even though our leaders are trying to keep everything about you and your fleet highly classified, there are plenty of credible unofficial reports circulating. Based on those, I don’t expect the Syndic force to prevail here, but based on your actions to date, that expectation does not fill me with fear. Your fleet will be less a threat to the people here than one answering to the Syndicate Worlds’ Executive Council.”
The Syndic CEO shook her head again. “I won’t forget what you did, Captain Geary. A lot of us have come to the understanding that this war stopped making sense the day it began. We’re tired of trying to hold things together in our star systems while our leaders squander the wealth of the Syndicate Worlds in a war that can’t be won. When you get home, tell your leaders that there are people here who are weary of fighting and want to talk.”
The Syndic CEO paused. “When our facilities at Dilawa were mothballed about twenty years ago, it was judged uneconomical to remove the stockpiled materials at the mining facilities there. A lot of things were left in place. Just in case you have need of supplies after you leave here.”
The window blanked, and Geary leaned back, thinking.
“Can we trust her?” Desjani wondered.
“I don’t know. Where’s Co-President Rione?”
“In her stateroom, I think.”
“Shoot her a copy of that and ask for her assessment.” Desjani’s mouth twitched, and she hesitated just enough for Geary to see. “Never mind. I’ll do it.”
Five minutes later Rione was on the bridge. “I think she’s being honest.”
“She wants to talk peace, and expects us to defeat this Syndic flotilla, and told us where we can find raw materials to resupply the auxiliaries,” Geary pointed out. “If the Syndic authorities find out any of that, they’ll have her head off in a heartbeat.”
Rione nodded to Geary, her face thoughtful. “This implies a higher degree of rot within the Syndic hierarchy than we expected. A star-system CEO telling us directly that she no longer supports the war.”
“She’s also sympathizing with us against her own forces,” Desjani pointed out to Geary, seeming to be torn between gratitude and revulsion.
Instead of replying to her, Rione spoke to Geary. “The Syndic fleet has been a critical part of the mechanism by which the leaders of the Syndicate Worlds have maintained control over their territory. Anyone trying to displa
y any independence would find warships arriving to enforce the will of their Executive Council. The more damage you do to that fleet, the greater the opportunity for local leaders such as this one to act on their own.”
“That fleet is nonetheless made up of their own people,” Desjani told Geary. “The fact that she’s apparently willing to cheer us on against them should play a role in our assessment of her.”
Rione shook her head as she addressed Geary again. “A hypernet-bypassed star system probably has proportionally fewer citizens in the fleet and feels far less a part of the Syndicate Worlds as time has gone by.”
Geary looked back at Desjani, only then realizing that both women were talking just to him and ignoring each other, as if they were in separate rooms and could only communicate directly with him.
Desjani shrugged slightly. “The Syndic CEO we saw is a politician, and I suppose a politician might feel less compunction about the sacrifices of military personnel.”
That made Rione’s jaw visibly tighten, but she still didn’t look at Desjani. “You have my assessment, Captain Geary. Now if you will excuse me, I have other matters to attend to.” She swung around and left the bridge.
Geary pressed the fingertips of one hand against his forehead for a moment in an attempt to push away an impending headache. “Captain Desjani,” he murmured so only she could hear, “I would appreciate it if you refrained from engaging in open combat with Co-President Rione.”
“Open combat?” Desjani replied in similar low tones. “I don’t understand, sir.”
He gave her a sharp look, but Desjani was eyeing him with what was surely pretended innocent puzzlement. “I really don’t want to go into details.”
“I’m afraid you’ll have to, sir.”
Desjani might consider him guided by the living stars when it came to command of the fleet, but when it came to dealing with Rione, she obviously had a different opinion. “Just try to act like she’s in the same room with you.”
“She’s not, sir. She left the bridge.”
“Are you mocking me, Captain Desjani?”
“No, sir. I would never do that, sir.” Perfectly serious, as far as he could tell.
It was clearly time to withdraw from the engagement. He couldn’t go into more detail or get angry without drawing attention from the watch-standers on the bridge, and he didn’t need that. “Thank you, Captain Desjani. I’m very happy to hear that. I have enough other things to worry about.”
Desjani at least looked a little regretful as Geary left, trying to catch up with Rione. He suspected she’d had some other important insights to share, and he wanted to ask Rione something.
She wasn’t moving fast, so he caught up with her halfway down the passageway. “Tell me the truth,” Geary requested. “Is the Alliance that badly off as well? Is the Alliance ready to crack?”
“Why do you ask?” Rione’s tone was as unemotional as ever.
“Because you didn’t seem happy at the evidence of how bad things are for the Syndics. You’ve told me the Alliance military is unhappy with the Alliance government, you’ve told me that everyone is tired of war, but is it as bad as here in Syndic space? Is the Alliance threatening to fall apart?”
Rione stopped walking, her gaze directed at the deck, then slowly nodded without looking at him. “A century of war, John Geary. We can’t be beaten, neither can they, but both sides can push until they fracture.”
“That’s why you came along on this expedition? Not just because you were afraid that Bloch might try to become a dictator, but because you were sure that he’d succeed, that the war-weary citizens of the Alliance would follow him because they’d lost belief in the Alliance.”
“Bloch would not have succeeded,” Rione stated calmly. “He would have died.”
“You would have killed him.” She nodded. “Bloch must have known what you intended. He must have had precautions in place against you.”
“He did.” A very small smile flicked on and off Rione’s face. “They wouldn’t have been enough.”
Geary stared at her. “And what would have happened to you?”
“I’m not certain. It wouldn’t have mattered. What counted was stopping a dictator in his tracks.”
He couldn’t spot any trace of mockery or dishonesty in her. Rione meant it. “You were willing to die in order to make sure he was dead. Victoria, sometimes you scare the hell out of me.”
“Sometimes I scare the hell out of me.” She still seemed absolutely serious. “I told you, John Geary. I believed the man I loved had died in this war. I’ve had nothing else to live for since then but my devotion to the Alliance. If the Alliance itself was about to crumble, then I’d have nothing left at all. My husband died for the Alliance, and if necessary, I could as well.”
“Why didn’t you tell me this right from the start?”
Rione watched him for a moment before answering. “Because if you were someone in the mold of Admiral Bloch, you didn’t need encouraging. But if you were truly like Black Jack, you wouldn’t believe me, because the idea of the Alliance falling apart would have been too hard for you to accept. You needed to see enough for yourself to understand how bad things are. And I did tell you things, though you may not always have recognized it.” Rione shook her head. “I sounded you out, I watched you, I did what I had to do in order to influence your attitudes toward the way things are now.”
“What you had to do?” The phrase sounded cold even for Rione. “You told me once that you didn’t sleep with me just to influence me.”
Her eyes stayed on his. “That wasn’t the only reason, no. But it was part of it. Satisfied? You got my body, I got yours, and in the dark watches of the night I whispered to you about the need to protect the Alliance from those who would destroy it in the name of saving it. Oh, I enjoyed the sex. I admit that freely. But the day came when I knew that I no longer need fear you, and when I knew that my feelings were beginning to betray the husband I still love and who may still live. I didn’t give you to her because I’m noble, John Geary. I did it for myself, and because I’d done what I needed to do.”
He didn’t believe all of that. Rione’s posture and expression hadn’t changed, but he remembered the drunken words she’d once spoken, and he noticed that even while dispassionately justifying all she had done, Rione still didn’t say Tanya Desjani’s name. “You haven’t given me to anybody, let alone Captain Desjani.”
“You may have to lie to yourself, John Geary, but give me some credit.”
“Why are you staying on Dauntless, then? There are plenty of surviving ships from the Callas Republic to which you could transfer.”
“Because you’ll need me close when we get home. Not as a threat, as an ally. I know how the political leaders of the Alliance will react to you. Black Jack has returned, the savior of the fleet and the Alliance. You won’t take what some of them will offer in exchange for more power for themselves. You won’t do what others of them will fear, taking all power for yourself. No, John Geary,” Rione insisted, “you will stand atop the bulwarks of the Alliance and defend it against all enemies, both those inside and those outside, because that’s who you are, someone out of a simpler past. And I will help you against those inside who seek to use you or act against you out of fear.”
“Against me? Do you think I’ll be in danger from the political leadership of the Alliance?”
“If I had been on the Governing Council when you returned, I would have argued for your immediate arrest and isolation under the public deception of your being on some secret mission. Because I would have thought you were someone in the mold of Admiral Bloch or Captain Falco. I’ve learned different, and I will tell the other senators what I know. Believe me, you will need me,” Rione declared. “Even those politicians who dislike me, and there are plenty of those, know that I will not betray the Alliance. My words will matter to all of them.”
Geary looked away, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand and trying to think. No matter how c
omplex getting this fleet home in one piece had always been, life once the fleet got home had seemed so simple. Resign his commission, go somewhere he wouldn’t be recognized, try to hide from the legend of Black Jack and the unrealistic, devout expectations of those who believed he had been sent by the living stars themselves to this fleet to save it and the Alliance. He’d kept focused on that to keep everything from overwhelming him, even as the idea of walking away from this fleet and its people felt less and less right. Now he had to admit that at the very least he’d have more problems to deal with before he could leave these responsibilities behind. “Thank you, Victoria. I’m sure your help will be critical.”
She shook her head. “Don’t thank me. I’m not doing it for you.”
“Thanks, anyway. Do you want to discuss the upcoming battle?”
“You’ll be fine. You always are.”
His temper threatened to explode. “Dammit, the last thing I or anyone else in this fleet needs is for me to become overconfident! I’m going to try to minimize our losses, but this battle will not be simple or easy or painless!”
Rione smiled in an infuriating manner. “See? You already know that. You don’t need me to tell you. Anything else?”
“Yes,” Geary stated between gritted teeth. “How about whether we should go to Anahalt or Dilawa afterward?”
Rione spread her hands in a dismissive gesture. “Follow your instincts, Captain Geary. They’re much better than mine, at least while we’re still in Syndic space.”
“I’d still like your opinion on whether or not we can trust that Syndic CEO.”
“Of course you can’t. But that doesn’t mean she isn’t being truthful this time. See if what she said about Dilawa matches the Syndic star-system records we’ve captured.” Rione turned to go, then spoke over her shoulder. “That’s my political advice. If you want military advice, go ask your captain for her opinion. It’ll give you two another professional opportunity to huddle close together.”
He watched Rione walk away, without saying anything else that might have just invited another parting shot.