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  “They’ll be in an impossible position,” Badaya noted approvingly. “That’s a brilliant suggestion, Captain Tulev. It will generate intense public worry all through Syndic space and confront the Syndic leaders with serious problems in how to handle mass fear of the hypernet gates.”

  Commander Neeson, looking concerned, shook his head. “But what happens when our people hear about it? We can’t keep that news from crossing the border into Alliance space. We’ll face the same problem.”

  “Our leaders need to know this problem exists,” Captain Badaya stated. He gave Geary a meaningful look. As far as Badaya was concerned, Geary should be the only leader of the Alliance, a dictator backed by most of this fleet. Commander Yin hadn’t been totally paranoid in her worries, though Geary himself wanted nothing to do with the idea.

  “We need to figure out what to do, too,” Badaya continued, “before the Syndics decide to attack our gates.”

  Geary frowned, worried again about what the Alliance’s elected leaders might decide, then saw Captain Cresida nodding.

  “I think we can counter this threat,” she stated. “I’ve been thinking. We have two experimental results to draw on now, the only two known cases of collapsing hypernet gates. This fleet has the only full sets of observations from both incidents. With that data, I can refine the targeting algorithm we used at Sancere, make it more reliable and more certain to minimize energy output from a collapsing gate.”

  “What good does that do?” Badaya demanded. “We can’t get close enough to a Syndic gate to stop them in time, and we don’t want to destroy our own gates.”

  “But if the Syndics tried to destroy one of our gates,” Cresida replied, “and we had attached self-destruct charges to all of the gate tethers, tied into an automated safe-collapse program that would trigger if the gate suffered enough damage—”

  The wave of relief was almost palpable. “We could make sure none of our gates destroyed their own star systems!”

  “Maybe,” Geary cautioned. “We have no way of knowing how reliable the algorithm is because we only have two gate collapses to draw on for data. If it wasn’t as reliable as we think, we wouldn’t want to find that out the hard way. It’s also going to take time to get such a design finalized, approved, and installed on every hypernet gate within reach of the Syndics.”

  Captain Cresida grimaced but nodded. “That’s true, sir.”

  “But it’s better than nothing,” Tulev added.

  “Much better,” Geary agreed. “Captain Cresida, please continue work on that concept. If we can offer that when we return to Alliance space, it will protect our homes from what happened here.” His eyes went back to the star display, realizing how far they had yet to go. A fleet still low on supplies, still pursued by Syndic forces able to destroy it if the fleet was caught in a bad position, still too deep in enemy territory.

  No one else seemed worried about that. No one questioned Geary’s use of “when” they got back instead of “if” they got back. He found himself unnerved by the fear that this fleet (or most of it, at least) would do whatever he asked now, all of them certain that whatever Geary ordered would succeed. That would have been fine if he were some sort of genius, but he’d already made plenty of mistakes. Ancestors, I want their confidence, but I don’t want their faith. Unfortunately, it seemed he would get both whether he liked it or not, and this was coming on top of his distress over ordering Casia’s execution.

  “Thank you,” Geary stated. “Thank you and all of your crews again for achieving the sort of victory that will be remembered as long as the Alliance endures.” He caught Duellos’s eye, then Badaya’s, sensing that both intended staying after the conference for private talks. Right now he couldn’t handle that and shook his head subtly to each to indicate they’d speak later. “I’ll see you all in Branwyn Star System.”

  The images of officers vanished, and the room seemed to shrink with incredible speed. Geary sat down heavily as the last image disappeared, his eyes on the star display, wondering how long he could keep from making a mistake fatal to the entire fleet, wondering if he could really help defuse the hypernet gate bombs that the unknown aliens had succeeded in tricking humans into seeding throughout the regions of space they occupied.

  “We’ll make it.”

  Geary hadn’t remembered that Desjani was physically present, or realized that she had stayed in the room and was now watching him.

  “I know it’s hard, sir. But you’ve brought us this far.” She indicated the display.

  “I can’t do miracles,” he noted in a bleak voice.

  “If you provide the right leadership, then this fleet will perform the miracles. You saw that here at Lakota.”

  He laughed shortly. “I wish I could believe that! But the fleet has certainly done an amazing job. I won’t argue with you there.” The laugh died, and he nodded toward the stars.

  “I almost made some lethal mistakes at Lakota the first time around. I can’t afford to make any more, and that’s scary, Tanya.”

  “You don’t have to be perfect.”

  “Don’t the living stars expect that of me?” Geary asked, hearing his voice get tense.

  She frowned. “I’m not wise enough to know what they expect, but I’m smart enough to see that they wouldn’t have chosen a human agent if they wanted perfection. Sir, winning is usually a matter of making one less mistake than the enemy or just getting up one more time than you get knocked down. You’re doing both.”

  He gave her an appraising look. “Thank you. I know you’ve told me on a few occasions that you know I’m human, but sometimes I still think you expect me to be some perfect, godlike being.”

  Desjani’s frown deepened. “That would be blasphemy, sir. And unfair to you.”

  “But you still think I can do it?” It was one thing for Desjani to say that if she believed him perfect, but if she knew he wasn’t perfect and still believed in him, it would mean much more.

  “Yes, sir.” She looked down for a moment. “My ancestors tell me to trust you, that we were meant to … to serve together.”

  He took a moment to answer, trying to make sure he didn’t say the wrong thing. “I’m glad we’re serving together. You’ve been invaluable.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  He didn’t know why, but he suddenly felt the need to bring up something. “Vambrace was destroyed in the battle. I saw Lieutenant Riva made it off. He’s on Inspire right now.”

  “I’m sure he’ll be happy there,” Desjani responded, her tone notably cooler. “There are any number of attractive female officers on Inspire, assuming he doesn’t try for an attractive enlisted this time.” She saw his reaction and shrugged with every appearance of uncaring. “Lieutenant Riva burned his bridges with me a decade ago, sir, though I didn’t fully appreciate that until recently. I’d regret the loss of any member of the Alliance fleet, but on a personal level, I really don’t care if I never hear his name again.”

  “Sorry,” Geary offered, “for bringing it up, I mean.”

  “That’s all right. I’ve learned a lot about men since I was involved with him, a lot about what a man should be.” She looked down and bit her lip. “But we were talking about getting home, about you being able to do that.”

  “Yeah.”

  She must have heard the lack of enthusiasm in Geary’s voice, and somehow knew what it meant. “It’s still your home, too, sir.”

  “Is it?” Geary fell silent again but knew Desjani was waiting for him to say more, as if she knew he had more he should say. “How much has changed in a century? The people I knew are gone. I’ll be greeting their now-elderly children and grandchildren. The buildings I last saw new will be old. Old ones will be torn down, with something else in their place. On this ship I can pretend not much time has passed, but once we get back to Alliance space, then everywhere I look there’ll be reminders that my home is dead and gone.”

  Desjani sighed. “You won’t lack for friends.”

 
“Yes, I will. What I won’t lack for is people wanting to be near Black Jack Geary,” he answered, letting the bitterness he felt at the thought enter his voice. “They won’t be interested in me, just in the great hero they think I am. How can I avoid that? How can I get to know anyone when that will be following me everywhere?”

  “It won’t be easy,” Desjani admitted. “But people will get to know you. Just like people in this fleet did. Who you really are besides being a hero, and I see how you react when I say that, but I’m sorry, you are a hero. Everyone in this fleet would be dead or in Syndic labor camps long ago but for you. You have to accept that.”

  “I could still screw up so badly that we’ll end up that way anyhow,” Geary noted. “Look, I wish you wouldn’t call me a hero.”

  “The fleet knows—”

  “Not the fleet. You.”

  She stayed silent for a moment, then nodded. “You need to be able to escape that at times. I understand. But I do believe you’ll be happy once we get home. You’ll get to know people. People will get to know you,” Desjani repeated. “Just as some of them know you now.”

  “Sure. People in the fleet know me. People I’ll have to leave.” She didn’t answer this time, and Geary looked over to see Desjani staring at the deck, her face rigid with suppressed emotions. For the first time he really thought of leaving her, of not seeing her every day, and felt as if he’d been punched in the gut. Geary wondered how his own expression looked as he realized that. “Tanya—”

  “Please don’t. It’ll just make it harder.”

  He wasn’t sure what she meant, but in some way knew that she was right. “Okay.”

  “You’ll have Co-President Rione,” Desjani added in a rush.

  “No. I don’t have her now. Not like that.” He shrugged, hoping he wasn’t sounding callous. “We’re using each other. I need someone who is skeptical of me and willing to speak openly her every doubt to me, and she needs … I’m not sure what she needs.”

  Desjani spoke in a very low voice. “It seems that you’re giving her what she wants.”

  Geary barely managed not to flinch. Desjani had a point. A very good point. Why was he having sex with a woman when he wasn’t even remotely sure of his feelings about her? “Not lately. But maybe that should stop completely.”

  “If the fleet needs it—”

  “That’s a fine justification for me to use, isn’t it? Just the sort of abuse of power I’m supposed to be avoiding.”

  She smiled slightly. “Yes.”

  “It’s not like Rione and I get along that well. Especially when—” He broke off, suddenly realizing that he’d been about to say “when she acts jealous of you.”

  But Desjani looked even farther away for a moment, as if she’d actually heard those words. “I’ve given her no grounds for that. Nor have you.”

  “She seems to think so,” he noted in frustration. “So does most of the fleet, apparently. What the hell are we going to do, Tanya?”

  She knew that he wasn’t referring to the Syndics or the fleet this time. Desjani gazed toward a corner of the room for a while before answering in a calm and controlled voice. “We can’t do anything. Sir.”

  “No. We can’t.” The carefully emphasized “sir” was meant to remind him of their relative positions. She was his subordinate, he was her commander, and nothing could be done about either of those things. He looked down, trying to understand the feelings inside himself and wishing Desjani hadn’t gotten dragged into the politics surrounding him. “I’m sorry.”

  “Thank you,” she replied. “I’m sorry, too.”

  It was only after she left that it occurred to him to wonder exactly what she felt sorry for, and only then because he wasn’t entirely sure that he’d meant it the way he’d thought he had.

  “Captain Geary, this is Captain Desjani. The accounting of prisoners liberated from Audacious was scrambled by the subsequent engagement and the losses of some of the ships involved in the recovery, but a preliminary list is now available. They’re working on verifying it and hope to have a finalized list before we reach the jump point for Branwyn.”

  Geary felt a sense of satisfaction at the news, a reminder that he had succeeded in liberating some of the Alliance sailors captured during the first battles in Lakota Star System, as he reached out and tapped the comm unit in his stateroom. “Thank you, Captain Desjani. You didn’t need to track that for me. You’re not my chief of staff.” He didn’t have a chief of staff, of course. Admiral Bloch’s had died along with Admiral Bloch in the Syndic home system, and Geary hadn’t wanted to pull any officers out of badly needed primary duties on any of his ships. The automated systems available could do most of the work staffs used to do, anyway.

  “I’m happy to help however I can, sir.”

  Geary smiled and broke the connection, then turned to see Victoria Rione glowering at him. She’d come here to discuss the fleet conference she had observed but not attended, but had been interrupted by Desjani’s call. “Now what?” he asked. “That was good news.”

  “Yes,” Rione agreed in an icy voice, “eagerly delivered by your happy little helper.”

  He felt heat rising to match her coldness. “Are you talking about Captain Desjani?”

  “Who else? Everyone in this fleet knows how she feels about you. You don’t have to flaunt it in front of me.”

  “Those are rumors, and you know it! I’ve never seen her act that way, and I don’t act that way with her,” Geary objected. “No one I meet in the passageways of Dauntless gives me looks of disapproval. If the crew of this ship thought Captain Desjani and I were even thinking of that, they’d—”

  “No, they wouldn’t!” Rione gave him a look mixing anger and exasperation. “If you and that woman were screwing on the bridge of this ship, the watch-standers would politely look away and joyfully approve that their respected captain and their legendary hero had found happiness together! How can you not know that?”

  “That’s ridiculous. They know you and I are together.”

  “We may walk together at times, but anyone can see that we’re no more emotionally tied to each other than we were the day you were defrosted from survival sleep!”

  He started to object, then thought better of it. Rione was right about that. Even when their bodies were joined, their spirits were separate. Lust and love were two different things. He knew which of those motivated him to desire Victoria Rione, and he couldn’t pretend otherwise. “We’ve still publicly been companions. If I left you for Desjani—”

  “They’d applaud! I’m a civilian and a politician! They don’t trust me, they don’t think I’m one of them, and I’m not!”

  “That doesn’t mean—”

  “Yes, it does! If an election on the matter were held tomorrow in this fleet, the officers and sailors would overwhelmingly vote to shove me into an escape pod and eject it in the direction of the nearest Syndic labor camp, and for her to move into this stateroom to warm your bed and body for the foreseeable future and fleet regulations be damned! She knows that! Why do you think she’s so uncomfortable when the subject is raised?”

  “She has every right to feel uncomfortable!” Geary shot back heatedly. “She’s never done anything to justify the impression that she’d want that.”

  Rione stared at him for a long moment. “Of course she hasn’t done anything. Neither have you.”

  “What? Are you implying something about my feelings for her?”

  “No, I’m not implying anything, I’m stating it! It’s clear you prefer her company to mine or anyone else’s. Moreover, she returns the feeling, and you know it!”

  “I know nothing of the kind!” Geary roared. “We have to work together! She has a good military mind and good instincts, so of course I want to consult with her! Why the hell are you so jealous of Desjani anyway?”

  “Because you like her better than me, you idiot! If not for your honor and her honor, which I will freely admit are impeccable, and both of your refusal
s to violate regulations because you’re both so damned dedicated to your duties and responsibilities as officers, you and she would be spending every waking moment together! And every sleeping moment, too! And if it came to that, she would feel the kind of bliss she’s previously only gained from destroying Syndic warships! And if you don’t know all of that, then you’re even more oblivious than I thought any human male could ever possibly be!” Rione glared at him as if trying to decide whether to say anything else, then threw up her hands in apparently total frustration and stormed out.

  The obvious reply came to Geary right after the hatch shut. Maybe I like her better because she doesn’t yell at me as much as you do! But there wasn’t much sense in wasting the comeback by saying it to an empty room, and there was no way he was going to chase her down the passageway to deliver it, and in any event he didn’t think he’d believe the retort nearly so wise once his own anger had cooled.

  Besides, he knew a totally honest answer would be different. I like Desjani because she understands me. Even though she thinks I’m some great hero on a great mission, she seems to know who I really am, too. And because we work so well together, like we just instinctively know what the other needs. We like the same things, we can talk, I can relax with her in ways I can’t with anyone else. Which made Desjani a great captain for his flagship, a great companion to discuss things with, a great person to be around, a great—Damn.

  Rione’s right.

  He sat there a while, trying to figure out what to do. In a way, though, he and Desjani had already discussed it. They couldn’t, and wouldn’t, do anything that wasn’t appropriate for a commander and one of his subordinate officers. That didn’t mean they couldn’t have a close working relationship, and indeed, recent events had emphasized how important her assistance was to him during critical situations. But he’d have to make sure not to push beyond that, not to seem to pressure her in any way that wasn’t professional. She hadn’t invited his feelings for her, and he had no right to even state them to her.

  Never mind Rione’s angry accusation that Desjani had feelings for him. He couldn’t assume that was true and certainly couldn’t act as if it was true. It would be better for all concerned if it wasn’t true.