Steadfast Page 17

  A ship’s captain had to be practical, Geary reflected. “Doctor, how long is it until I can meet with the two lieutenants?”

  “The decontamination procedure will take about half an hour. You are welcome to observe—”

  “No, thank you, Doctor. They’ve been through enough. Those two don’t need higher authority watching as they undress and go through decontamination. Give me a call when they are ready,” Geary directed. But as he turned to leave, he found General Charban waiting. “Yes?”

  “Can we talk, Admiral?” Charban asked.

  “Certainly. Captain Desjani, I’m going to my stateroom. Please notify Envoy Rione that I need to talk with her.”

  Charban did not say anything for the first minute of their walk toward Geary’s stateroom. When he finally spoke, he sounded oddly wistful. “Someone beat me to it.”

  “What’s that?”

  “You know what I mean, Admiral. I long ago had my fill of official stupidity.” Charban was looking straight ahead, but his eyes did not seem to see the passageway they were in, instead gazing upon some other images that lived in his memory. “I saw too many men and women die because of official stupidity. Too many die for no reason or bad reasons. I know you don’t think much of my judgment in that respect.”

  “General,” Geary said slowly, “I didn’t grow up with the war. I didn’t spend my entire life at war. I don’t judge those who did.”

  “But you do, and I don’t blame you for it.” Charban sighed heavily, his eyes growing haunted. “There was a moon in Semele Star System, the only thing worth living on in that entire star system. A red giant sun orbited by a few small rocks and one gas giant, and the moon orbited the gas giant. The Syndics had heavily fortified it. They had it, so we had to have it. I led my soldiers down onto that moon and we fought. The warships with us bombarded that moon until it was no longer worth having, but the Syndics kept fighting. I never understood that, Admiral. I never understood why the Syndics fought so hard against us when their government was so vile. But the former Syndics at Midway explained it to me. They were fighting to protect their homes. That was all. Not their government. Their homes. Their families. That’s what they believed.”

  Charban came to a halt, still staring ahead of him. “We lost half of my division killing every Syndic on that moon. Two weeks after that, we left. Repositioned, in official jargon. I don’t know whether or not the Syndics once again garrisoned the moon. All I knew was that I had lost half of my division so that we could occupy a place that we then left. I couldn’t do it anymore. I put in my papers. I had served long enough. They had to grant me retirement. Why I survived and others did not, I don’t know. But I couldn’t do it anymore, Admiral. And I couldn’t believe in it anymore. I couldn’t believe that the people deciding strategy and plans had any idea what they were doing. I couldn’t believe that the men and women we were sending to their deaths were accomplishing anything by their sacrifices.”

  “I understand,” Geary said. “Truly. I do understand.”

  Charban blew out a long breath, then finally looked at Geary again. “Yes. I think you do. Did you leak all of those reports to the press?”

  “No.”

  “Would you have? Don’t answer. I think I know. But you must know this about me. I have no right to be here, to be alive, when I led so many to their deaths. I will spend what life is left to me trying to make a difference. I thought I could do that by entering politics. I don’t believe that anymore. But there’s a chance I can make a difference with the Dancers. A chance I can establish the beginnings of real understanding between our species and theirs. Would that be enough, Admiral?” Charban’s gaze held his, the eyes dark with some hidden emotion. “Would it justify my still being alive, when they are dead?”

  “General,” Geary said, his voice soft, “I’m not wise enough to know the answer to that. I agree that when we first met I was skeptical of your own aversion to using force when I thought it necessary, but I do understand your reasons. What if the Dancers depart and don’t allow any humans to accompany them back to their own territory? Will you reconsider politics then?”

  Charban took a moment to answer. “Do you think I should?”

  “I think we need more leaders who think more about the consequences of their actions and their decisions. I don’t know that I would always agree with your decisions, but I do know you would take into account the long-term impact of them. And . . .” Geary had to pause to be sure he said the next thing right. “Those men and women you led, like the men and women I lead, died to defend their homes and families as well. I think their sacrifices deserve leaders who remember that, and who remember them.”

  Charban stayed silent for a longer time, before finally nodding. “Perhaps you are right. I will think about it. But now I am keeping you from meeting with Envoy Rione, and with this ship rejoining the rest of the fleet soon, I’m sure you have a lot of other things to worry about as well.” He walked away, head bent in thought.

  Rione was waiting at the hatch when Geary got to his stateroom, but she waved off his invitation to enter. “I need to catch a lift, Admiral.”

  “You’re leaving?”

  “Yes. There’s a ship coming out to pick me up.” A shadow crossed her expression, there and gone but unmistakable in its brief hint of worry and resolve. “I have found no clear information about my husband. I will have to hunt for the answers.”

  “If anyone has failed to live up to their agreements—” Geary began.

  She silenced him with another sharp gesture of one hand. “If that is the case, I will take any necessary actions, and the less you know of that perhaps the better. This you must know, though. The Alliance has reliable reports that the Syndicate Worlds government on Prime is consumed with internal fighting. There have been more coups, attempted coups, and countercoups. The attempt to stop your fleet from returning from Midway was apparently one of the few actions that the Syndic central government has recently been able to agree on and try to implement.”

  “Why haven’t I seen those reports?” Geary demanded. “Lieutenant Iger told me we haven’t received any new material about the Syndic government.”

  “You haven’t. Because the reports are classified in compartments for which fleet units are not authorized access.” She shook her head in response to his immediate anger. “Don’t bother venting to me about it. You know I agree with you. Here’s the meat of the reporting. With the central Syndic government preoccupied with sticking knives in each other’s backs, large portions of what remains of technically Syndic-controlled territory are reverting to an almost feudal power structure. Strong CEOs with access to the necessary wealth and firepower are asserting control over star systems in their local regions. They’re exercising considerable autonomy in the absence of a firm presence from the central government.”

  “What’s left of the Syndicate Worlds is falling apart?”

  This time, Rione’s gesture was indecisive. “Perhaps. Or perhaps the feudal power arrangement will stabilize the collapse. It’s too early to tell. That’s all I know.”

  “Have you heard anything about Captain Jane Geary and her ships?”

  “No. That was apparently a pure fleet issue. Whoever sent her off didn’t get their marching orders from any Senate source I can identify so far.”

  “Thank you.” Geary hesitated, searching for the right words. “Good luck.” It struck him suddenly that Rione might not be back, that if she found her husband and all was as well as could be, she had other places to be and other things to do than accompany this fleet any longer.

  As he tried to think of the right way to say good-bye this time, Rione nodded wordlessly to him, then spun about and walked briskly away down the passageway.

  He went in, pulled off the dress uniform top, and sat down heavily in the one really comfortable chair his stateroom boasted. The display above the low table before the
chair was set for Varandal, so for a few moments he slumped down, watching the many ships and human installations orbiting the star, bright spots on the display as they swung in what seemed slow, lazy circles among the planets and other natural objects in the star system.

  Geary frowned as he realized that six of those bright spots were accelerating together at an extremely impressive rate, heading away from Dauntless and toward . . .

  His comm panel buzzed urgently.

  “The Dancers have taken off like bats out of hell,” Desjani reported.

  “What?”

  “The Dancers have—”

  “I heard you! Where are they going?”

  “Their vector is a beeline for the jump point for Bhavan.”

  “Bhavan?” One of the star systems adjacent to Varandal, Bhavan led deeper into Alliance space. “Why are they going to Bhavan?”

  “Do you honestly expect me to be able to answer that question?” Desjani asked.

  “No. Hold on.” Geary hit acknowledge again as his comm alert sounded once more. A second virtual window appeared, this one showing General Charban. “Do you know that the Dancers are heading for Bhavan?”

  Charban raised both eyebrows. “They are? That explains the message they just sent us. We future return. Durnan.”

  “What?” Geary said again. “What does that mean?”

  “Since you tell me they are heading for a jump point out of this star system, it means they are leaving Varandal to go to Durnan Star System and will return. That is my best guess, anyway.”

  Geary slumped back again, massaging his forehead as another headache loomed. “Tell the Dancers we’ll escort them—”

  “Sir,” Desjani interrupted, “we can’t catch them before they reach that jump point. Not at the rate they are going.”

  “We have to send an escort,” Geary began stubbornly.

  “Not if they won’t wait for one,” she replied.

  “I will ask,” Charban added in tones that implied he did not expect any useful result from the asking.

  “General,” Geary said with what he thought was immense patience, “if the Dancers go zooming through Alliance space on their own, refusing an escort, I will be held responsible. Everyone will be asking me why the Dancers left, where they are going, and what they are doing.”

  Charban nodded, unimpressed. “And then you will ask me to answer those same questions. I will tell you I don’t know, and you will pass on that answer, because it’s the only one we’ve got.”

  “General, dammit—”

  “If you have a way to make them tell us what they’re doing, Admiral, please employ it! Because I don’t.”

  Geary paused, breathing slowly and getting himself under control. “I’m sorry, General. I know that you’re doing your best, and that you have a better grasp of the Dancers than anyone else. See if you can get anything else out of them before the Dancers jump for Bhavan. Does Bhavan take them toward Durnan?”

  “Yes, sir,” Desjani confirmed. “They’ll have to make a couple more jumps from Bhavan, though.”

  What if someone panicked and opened fire on the Dancers as they transited through those other star systems? What if whoever was in charge of defenses at Durnan took action? “How can we get General Charban to Durnan in time to ensure he can talk to the people there before they overreact to the Dancers arriving? Is there any way to do that, or are the Dancers taking the most direct route?”

  Charban, a ground forces soldier confronted with a fleet question, merely shook his head.

  Tanya was gazing off to one side intently. “I’m running some options . . . there’s a way, Admiral. We can send the general on a ship through the hypernet gate here to Tehack. From there they can jump to Durnan, and should be able to get there at about the same time the Dancers do as they make three jumps.”

  “ID a ship for me,” Geary ordered. “Heavy cruiser, close by, in good fighting shape and with close to one hundred percent fuel. Pick a light cruiser if none of the heavies fit the criteria.”

  “I’ll get my people on it,” Desjani said.

  “General, get ready for a fast transfer and several weeks on a cruiser.”

  “Yes, Admiral,” Charban said. “There may be some trouble regarding security. I have been informed that our comm equipment and software is not to be moved—”

  “I hereby direct you to take all of the comm gear and software you need to talk to the Dancers. It’s not going to do us any good sitting on Dauntless while the Dancers are at Durnan.”

  Geary paused, imagining hysterical news accounts of an “alien invasion force” swooping through the Alliance. “I’ll notify our Grand Council representatives of what is happening and what we’re doing.”

  “They won’t be happy,” Charban predicted. “But you might offer them this comfort. If the records of our visit to Old Earth had been kept secret, had not been mysteriously leaked to the media, then panic and fear might have resulted when the Dancers appeared alone in those star systems. But by the time the Dancers reach those places, the news will have preceded them. Our people will have seen what the Dancers did. Perhaps they will watch the Dancers pass by and wish the Dancers the blessings of the living stars.”

  “Wouldn’t that be nice,” Desjani said. She tried to keep her voice dry and sarcastic, but some real emotion leaked through.

  “I’ll bring that up,” Geary promised. “Tanya—”

  “Diamond,” Desjani interrupted. “Heavy cruiser Diamond. She fits the bill. I’ll notify her to break orbit and join up with us while you let the senators know what’s going on.”

  “Good.”

  “But put a full uniform on before you call them. Sir.”

  “Uh . . . right.” He had forgotten that he had pulled off the top of his dress uniform. The senators were going to be unhappy enough without making them think he was deliberately disrespecting them.

  • • •

  “THE representatives from the Grand Council were pretty mad about the whole thing, but even they had to acknowledge that we had no way of forcing the Dancers to stop.”

  The day after the wild scramble to deal with the departure of the Dancers, Geary’s stateroom was crowded with several officers who were all physically present. Given the things that might be discussed, Geary hadn’t wanted to use any form of conferencing software, no matter how allegedly secure it was.

  One of the advantages of being fleet commander, though, was that he still got the comfortable chair.

  “Diamond will get the, um, envoy there on time,” Captain Duellos observed, smiling at the play of light in the wine in his glass. “And keep an eye on the envoy as well.”

  “That’s not really necessary,” Desjani said. “General Charban can be trusted.”

  Duellos raised an eyebrow at her. “That’s a different assessment from you than the ones I heard when he first joined this fleet. Doesn’t he want to be a politician?”

  “I think we’d be lucky if he did.”

  Geary broke into the surprised silence that followed Tanya’s statement. “Is there anything else that anyone can tell me about Jane Geary and her ships?”

  Captain Tulev shook his head, slowly and stolidly, like a bull standing firm. “She left only a week ago. Dreadnaught, Dependable, and Conqueror were not fully repaired by any means, but all had enough combat capability to handle a mission for which no threat was expected.”

  “She was sent into Syndic space!”

  “Yes. But, according to her orders, the star system where the Alliance prisoners awaited pickup is comparable to Atalia.”

  Captain Badaya leaned back, drumming his fingers on the arm of the chair, his expression that of someone tasting something sour. “I still think she’ll get there and find nothing. Headquarters just wanted an excuse to get her out of the star system so they could appoint me temporary commander of
the fleet. It’s clear enough what they expected. I would assume temporary command, and I would promptly threaten the government with whatever ships I could get to follow those orders. A year ago, I might well have done that and played right into their hands.”

  “The point is,” Geary said, “that you didn’t.”

  “What are they after, Admiral?” Badaya asked, sounding almost plaintive. “Why would fleet headquarters want part of the fleet to rebel against the government?”

  Tanya rested one side of her chin on her fist as she gazed at him. “It’s like when someone tried to court-martial all of those ship commanders for running too low on fuel cells. Something guaranteed to make the hotheads explode. That almost worked.”

  Badaya looked even unhappier. “I played a role in that.”

  “Maybe that’s why they thought you would be a sure thing this time,” Geary observed. “Whoever they are. What I think they are looking for is a reason to dramatically reduce the size of this fleet.”

  Duellos had been watching the others. Now he spoke in a voice tinged with bitterness. “Why do they need a reason beyond the end of the war? Cut the budget some more, cut loose the officers and sailors the Alliance no longer needs, and reduce this fleet to a shadow of itself.”

  “They can’t,” Desjani replied. “Because Black Jack is in command. The people of the Alliance trust him far more than they trust the government. If the government obviously undercuts him without a good justification, it will be viewed as an attack on the champion of the Alliance by a bunch of corrupt politicians.”

  “If you ask me,” Badaya said, “that’s exactly what it would be.”

  Tulev nodded toward Badaya. “He speaks the words many in the Alliance would feel. Yes, if you look at events since the end of the war, our orders have repeatedly exposed us to situations that would reduce our numbers and capabilities. I have heard that there is much infighting among the government, but the different factions appear to agree on the need to lower the threat they see as posed by us.”