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  “I could not have done it at all,” Suva said. “I will get out and once more talk with the crew, but there are some things I find it very hard to empathize with.”

  “You voted to conduct that operation,” Geary pointed out.

  “I was not fully informed of what that involved,” Suva replied.

  Were those the exact words that Rione had used to describe one of the excuses that Costa or Suva would adopt? He tried not to let anger appear on his face or in his voice. “If you were aware of any alternatives,” he said once more, “I wish you had mentioned them.”

  “It’s your job to produce alternatives for military actions, Admiral. You gave us one choice.”

  “I gave you two choices. Do what we did, or leave our officers on Europa along with a threat that might cause the infection to be spread elsewhere in Sol Star System. If there had been a third or a fourth choice, I would have offered them.” He paused to ensure his next words were the right ones. “I made a recommendation in favor of an action I believed to be in the best interests of our two kidnapped officers, in the best interests of the Alliance, and in the best interests of everyone in Sol Star System.”

  She did not answer for several seconds, then spoke defiantly. “Narrow definitions of what is best can lead us into actions that are not really in anyone’s best interest. I believe in acting in the best interests of humanity. All humanity. I’m not ashamed to say that I love humanity. As a species, we have enormous potential, unlimited horizons, and an immense ability to care for others. I like that, and I intend working for that even if I am the only one willing to do so.”

  Geary ran one hand through his hair as he looked at her, feeling frustration replace his earlier anger. “Why do you think I don’t feel the same way?”

  “I think that you’re too powerful and too willing to use the force at your disposal. In that, you are no different from S—” She bit off her next words.

  He could guess what they would have been, though. Senator Costa. Or maybe even Syndics. The thought of being compared to a Syndic CEO made it harder to control his voice. “This may be difficult for you to believe, but I have exercised a great deal of restraint in the use of force. I am very careful as to how and when I employ what power I have, and only use it when I must.”

  “Is that a threat?”

  “What?” Just as with Costa, an innocuous statement had been read as a personal threat. I know that I want senators like Suva and Costa to understand my crew better, but I’m having a hard time understanding the senators. They look for hidden meanings in the most straightforward statements.

  Well, damn, of course they do. That’s the sort of battlefield they fight on, the sort of tactics they use. They’re engaging me as if I were one of them. Is that a compliment or an insult? The last thought cooled his temper and any desire to escalate the verbal sparring. Instead, Geary spoke as openly and bluntly as he could. “It was the exact opposite of a threat. I will not threaten the government of the Alliance.”

  “I cannot afford to trust you on that, Admiral,” Suva said.

  “Then why not trust Senator Sakai?”

  “Because Sakai is burned out. He no longer cares.”

  “What about Senator Navarro?”

  “A hypocrite.”

  “Senator Unruh?”

  “Arrogant.”

  Geary could not help smiling ironically. “For someone who loves humanity, you don’t seem to like very many people.”

  Senator Suva’s eyes narrowed as she gazed at him. “Perhaps I have been too candid with you.”

  “Not at all. I agree with Dr. Nasr. There are too many secrets, too many things declared secret, or kept secret not because of real need but out of habit.” Geary paused, wondering if he should say what had just jumped into his mind. But it felt like the right thing to say now, and perhaps Suva was the right person to say it to. “And then there are the things kept secret because no one wants to admit to them.”

  Suva’s gaze was challenging now. “Such as?”

  “The kind of biological warfare program that once wiped out human life on Europa.”

  Whatever she had been expecting, it wasn’t that. And unless Suva was a brilliant actress, his words had shocked her. “The Syndics did that?”

  “I don’t know whether the Syndics had such a program or not.”

  “Then who—?” Suva took in a long breath. “Are you implying that the Alliance had such a program?

  “I’m saying that it did. I know that it did. The program was supposedly shut down sometime before I was recovered, but I don’t know that for certain. I’m not supposed to know what I do know of it.”

  Suva’s voice quavered with tension. “I . . . I find this very hard to believe. Why should I believe you?”

  “Why should I lie about something like that?” Geary asked. “You must have heard something about what Victoria Rione’s husband was suffering from.”

  “I heard some information,” Senator Suva confirmed, her voice steadying. “Some of it very prejudicial to Rione.”

  Why am I not surprised? “I can tell you with absolute certainty that she had nothing to do with what happened to her husband. That was entirely the work of the Alliance government, or portions of it, under the veils of secrecy.”

  “If it was the sort of project you claim, they would certainly have kept it very secret! They’ve kept it secret from me!” Suva was angry now. “Are you saying the military had nothing to do with it?”

  “The military did have some involvement. I don’t know how much. I don’t know if they were running the show or just providing support.”

  His frank admission that there had been some military aspect to the program appeared to once again surprise Suva. “Assume it is true. Why has no one else spoken up?”

  “I can’t speak for everyone else, but I know why Rione’s husband didn’t. He was mind-blocked.”

  “That’s why—?” Suva was seething now. “I don’t like being lied to, Admiral.”

  “I have never—”

  “You’re not among those I am thinking of. Why are you telling me about this?”

  “Because it scares the hell out of me,” Geary said. “I’d like to be more certain it was completely shut down. You’re keeping secrets from me. What secrets are being kept from you? And how dangerous to the Alliance are those secrets?”

  Suva sat back, covering her eyes with one hand, what could be seen of her face suddenly haggard with worry. “I’m not proud of every decision I have made, Admiral, and if I had my wish, no man or woman would ever again have to die in defense of their homes and families. I have to make imperfect decisions based on imperfect information.”

  “I understand that. I often have to do the same, knowing that a bad decision on my part could have catastrophic consequences.”

  She lowered her hand, gazing intently at him. “Perhaps we understand each other better than I thought. I will look into this matter, Admiral. But do not assume that means I have become one of your followers. The welfare of the many has to outweigh individual concerns about what has to be done to save the Alliance.”

  Once again, it reminded him of a recent conversation. “Senator Costa said something very similar to me not long ago,” Geary said.

  “I am nothing like her,” Suva said, her face flushing. “I will look into this information of yours. But I have difficulty fully trusting the source. I have to worry about many things, Admiral. I have to worry about people who will follow your orders to do things I could not do. I have to worry about your deciding there is no alternative to issuing certain orders.”

  “No one could seize control of the Alliance by force and hold it,” Geary said.

  She stared at him, her face rigid. “Some people, one person, is so revered by the populace that he would not need to use force. All he would have to do is give orders . . . and the
y would be obeyed.”

  “I will not give such orders,” Geary said with more force than he had intended.

  “Can I afford to believe that? Is that all, Admiral?”

  “Yes, Senator.” Geary left the stateroom, wondering what questions Suva would pose to her colleagues after Dauntless got home, and whether Suva would reconsider the wisdom of the secrets she was keeping. But at least Suva had laid out some of the reasoning by which she might have justified voting for actions that seemed otherwise inexplicable.

  • • •

  ABOUT half an hour until Dauntless reached the hypernet gate. Geary was almost to the bridge when the battle cruiser shuddered like a living creature that had felt a tremor run through its body.

  He sped up, reaching the bridge a few seconds quicker, and slid into his seat next to Tanya Desjani’s. “What happened?”

  Her answer wasn’t to him, but to the commander visible in a virtual comm window next to the captain’s seat. “See if you can identify the original source. Let me know if anything else comes in.”

  Sighing, she leaned back, then turned a glare on Geary. “Another system virus, courtesy of the good folk in Sol Star System.”

  “That seemed like an effective one,” Geary said.

  “It was. The vast majority of the worms, Trojan horses, viruses, vamps, ’bots, zaps, and assorted other malware that have been thrown at us while we’re here has bounced off like an ion hitting a magnetic field. The local hackers don’t know enough about our systems to make their stuff stick.” Desjani waved one hand around. “But this last one was tough. My top code monkey says it’s an import. He recognized portions of it as resembling offensive malware employed in Alliance space.”

  “Maybe another present from someone back home trying to mess with us.” Geary looked around. “But we’re all right now?”

  “Oh, yeah. No problem. Since it was cobbled together from known malware, our system security spotted the thing and shut it down immediately. What you felt was some of our systems having to reset after being swept.” She gave him a lopsided smile. “The source was a message, allegedly from a young lady on Old Earth to one of our sailors, with ‘special pictures’ attached.”

  “Ancestors help us,” Geary said. “The sailor opened them?”

  “He’s a sailor. Of course he opened them.” Desjani pointed toward the hypernet gate. “I cannot wait to get out of this star system. Sol Star System isn’t some special place of wisdom and peace. It’s the snake pit where humanity has had the longest to work on our worst impulses. We’re lucky that Castries and Yuon were the only two members of the crew actually kidnapped. I don’t mind too much that no one here thanked us for getting rid of those Shield of Sol clowns. And it doesn’t matter to me that no one here seems to care that we risked our Marines to save our own people and prevent any contamination from leaving Europa. It doesn’t even bother me much that Lieutenant Cole on the Shadow keeps sending us frequent status reports to let us know that he’s watching us for any signs that we’re breaking any more of the endless rules in this star system.”

  The small Sol Space Guard cutter had doggedly followed Dauntless toward the gate, like a small terrier trailing the dire wolf of the battle cruiser. “What does bother you?” Geary asked.

  “That they keep trying to mess with us!” She glared at her display. “Should we ask for formal permission to depart from traffic control or just head out when we reach the gate?”

  “Technically, we’re supposed to ask for permission. And we wouldn’t want to upset the Sol Space Guard.”

  “Ancestors, no,” Tanya agreed. “Not with the indefatigable Lieutenant Cole on our tails. I’m not sure I’m joking about that, by the way.”

  “My instincts tell me we’d be better off not crossing him, too. But I’m also tired of being here. We’ll send a formal notification of our departure to Sol Star System authorities, then head out without waiting for a reply.”

  “You’ve got fifteen minutes until we reach the hypernet gate,” Desjani advised cheerfully. “I hear you’ve been talking to politicians.”

  “I often talk to some politicians,” Geary reminded her.

  “I mean in addition to that woman and retired General Charban.”

  “Yes.” He made sure the security fields were activated around his and Desjani’s seats before saying more. “One is willing to make every required sacrifice to save the Alliance, as long as someone else actually makes those sacrifices. Another loves humanity but doesn’t seem to trust or like many humans.”

  “I can guess which two those are,” she replied dryly. “How about our new pal?”

  “Who do you mean?”

  “Senator Sakai.” Desjani gave Geary a questioning look. “I’m wondering if he’s sincere, but he’s been a lot more . . . open, lately.”

  “Open?”

  “You know. Talking to members of the crew. Showing more obvious interest in things instead of just watching with that poker face he used to have all the time.”

  “I’ve seen some of that,” Geary said. “I wondered if Sakai was doing it around others.”

  “He is.” She watched the hypernet gate, which was growing visibly larger now as they approached it. “I noticed he started changing after watching the Dancers on Earth.”

  “After they returned the body, you mean? The impact of that seems to have worn off for Suva and Costa, but if it has stuck with Sakai, it could gain us a strong supporter.” He paused, thinking. “Though I wonder if the event has worn off for the other two, or whether they are trying to pretend it didn’t affect them. Maybe in the long term, it will still make a difference.”

  “And in the short term?”

  “In the short term,” Geary announced, “I must inform various important people of our impending departure.” He touched one control. “Senators, we will be entering the hypernet gate in about ten minutes.” Another control. “General Charban, the Dancers are sticking close to us but please ensure they know we’re going to enter the gate in about ten minutes so they don’t suddenly take off before then.” A third touch. “To Lieutenant Cole on the cutter Shadow, be advised that you are within the radius of the hypernet field we will employ for Dauntless and the six Dancer ships. We appreciate your escort to this point, but unless you intend accompanying us back to Alliance space, I recommend that you quickly open the distance between your ship and ours by at least five hundred kilometers.” A final tap. “To Sol Star System authorities, this is Admiral Geary aboard the Alliance battle cruiser Dauntless. We will be departing Sol Star System via the hypernet gate in nine minutes. Thank you for your cooperation, assistance, and the warm welcome given us. Farewell. To the honor of our ancestors, Geary, out.”

  Desjani raised one eyebrow at him. “Warm welcome?”

  “A lot of people on Old Earth were nice to us.”

  “And a number of other people in this star system shot at us. I guess that also qualifies as a ‘warm welcome.’” She nodded toward her display. “It appears that Lieutenant Cole isn’t coming along after all.”

  Geary took a look at his display, seeing that Shadow had pivoted and was rapidly moving away from Dauntless, heading back into the star system, back toward Sol and the battered Home of humanity.

  Tanya paused, perplexed. “You know, I’ve gotten so used to Lieutenant Cole’s status reports that I might actually miss them.”

  “You’re joking.”

  “No. Seriously. For the next few days I’m going to be wondering off and on what Lieutenant Cole and his cutter are doing right now, what Lieutenant Cole is thinking right now, what Lieutenant Cole had for dinner . . .”

  He grinned. “From what I understand, when one ship is in a hypernet and the other is in normal space in a distant star system, the concept of right now is ambiguous at best.”

  Desjani looked thoughtful. “One of my friends went into high-end theo
retical physics. She told me a few years ago that one of the ongoing debates was whether humanity carried our own sense of time with us to other stars, that the presence of humans in the different star systems was what produced a unified sense of time among them despite the span of light-years between them. Don’t look at me like that. It’s actually a profound question that we don’t know the answer to.”

  “We don’t know what time is?” Geary asked.

  “Not really. Some ancient scientist said that time is what prevents everything from happening at once. My friend told me that, too, and said the quote still pretty much summarized everything that we know about time. I never forgot that quote because it reminds me of how little we know even today about the most fundamental things.”

  He gazed at his display, looking past the depiction of Sol Star System to the galaxy and the universe looming beyond. “There’s so much we want to learn. So much we need to learn. Why do we as a species spend so much time trying to destroy ourselves when we could be spending it trying to understand ourselves and the universe we live in?”

  Tanya shook her head. “Maybe they’re related. Maybe whatever drives us to want to learn also drives us to compete in ways that can destroy us.”

  “The Dancers may give us some insight into that,” Geary suggested.

  “Yeah. If we can ever figure them out. Understanding the Dancers may be harder than understanding time.”

  Her hand went to the hypernet controls. “Destination set as Varandal. The Dancers are within the radius set for our hypernet field. Request permission to head for home, Admiral.”

  “Permission granted.”

  The stars and everything else outside the ship vanished. Unlike jump space, with its gray monotony and strange flashes of light, when traveling by hypernet there was literally nothing outside the bubble containing Dauntless and the six Dancer ships. And, literally, Dauntless and the other six ships weren’t moving. But in sixteen days, they would pop out of the hypernet gate at Varandal, hundreds of light-years away, thanks to the mysterious and still-dimly-understood quantum connections between the gates.