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  Tanya Desjani’s arrival was a welcome distraction. As always she left the hatch to Geary’s stateroom open after she entered. That remained the rule when they were on her ship and on duty. Off the ship, they could be a married couple. Aboard it, there couldn’t be a hint of them acting as anything other than admiral and captain. If anything, Tanya’s insistence on abiding by regulations was even stronger than Geary’s.

  She wore an expression that combined admiration with annoyance as she dropped a data coin on the desk. “We isolated that message and my code monkeys took it apart. There’s no malware hidden in it.”

  “Did they find out how it was activated?” he asked, picking up the coin and turning it so the light glinted off one side and then the other.

  Desjani blew out an angry breath. “It had a subroutine monitoring the ship’s navigation system to tell it if we were close to arriving at Unity. That’s supposed to be impossible, by the way, for an outside program to monitor the navigation systems without being detected. My code monkeys would love to meet whoever that woman got that program from, but there aren’t any fingerprints on it, real or virtual. Anyone capable of coding that well is capable of hiding their own presence.”

  “Is there any reason I shouldn’t activate the message?”

  “Not that I know of. I’ll leave.”

  “Why should you leave? I want both of us to see what Rione thought was important enough to send to me this way.”

  But he hesitated with the data coin just above the read panel. All of the recent losses were too fresh, too painful. This was certain to rip the bandage off of emotional wounds that were still far from healed.

  It had to be important, though. He dropped the coin and waited.

  He couldn’t help staring at the image of Victoria Rione that appeared on the display, gazing outward at him as if she were still alive and contacting him in real time.

  For a moment, he wondered if she was, somehow, really still alive.

  “Admiral,” Rione said, her words carrying a heaviness despite her attempt at a light tone, “if you’re seeing this message, it means I’m dead, and your ship will soon arrive at Unity. Needless to say, I don’t want either of those things to happen. But I’ve long lived with the possibility of both, though my fear of what you might do at Unity has been considerably lessened.”

  Rione paused as if gathering her words.

  “This was made within a few weeks of us heading for Unity Alternate,” Desjani said. “That’s her as she was very recently.”

  “All I can do,” Rione finally said, “is offer what advice I can. Never forget that just by going to Unity you create the conditions that could shatter the Alliance. Others will interpret your actions in the ways they want to. Everything that you do and say must be carefully thought out. If you want to save the Alliance, and I believe that you do, you have to express support for the ideals behind it even while pressing for actions against those who betrayed those ideals, no matter their reasons, and no matter their positions. This cannot be about one man or one woman. Not you. Not anyone else. It has to be about the principles, the ideals, that have always justified the Alliance. Make it clear that you believe that you are just as subject to the guiding spirit of the Alliance as any other person, and just as subject to the laws that govern it.”

  Another pause, this one brief. “As a rule, you should trust no one, but there are a few exceptions in the Alliance Senate. Senator Navarro is bitter enough to see through whatever must be done. Senator Unruh will not betray you though she remains wary of you. Your most important ally in the Senate, though, is Senator Sakai. He will do his best to hide his leanings toward you, and his reputation for impartiality will make any statements and actions on your behalf seem all the more significant. Do not tell anyone Sakai is an ally of yours. He will act when and how he deems best.

  “There will be many people who want to suppress any evidence of violation of laws. They’ll use the official classification system to do that if they can. It’s only supposed to be used for matters of Alliance security, but people long ago learned that classification can also conceal matters that might embarrass those in power. Ensure that whatever evidence you have is known to the public. If the public nonetheless rallies to demagogues who tell them what they want to hear, the fault won’t lie with you.”

  Rione seemed to be looking straight at him, Geary thought, her eyes dark. “This last advice is the most important of all. Tanya Desjani. Keep her close. She will tell you the truth, she will tell you what she thinks you need to know, even and especially when you don’t want to hear it. Everyone with power needs someone like that. You have her. Listen to her.”

  Her image on the display leaned closer, tense. “The legend claimed that Black Jack would save the Alliance when it most needed saving. I have come to believe that Admiral Geary may be able to do that. Don’t let me down.

  “To the honor of our ancestors. Goodbye, Admiral.”

  Rione’s image froze as the message ended.

  He stared at the unmoving image a few moments longer before lowering his gaze. Geary rubbed one hand across his eyes and forehead, trying to calm the tumult in his mind.

  He heard Tanya say one word. “Huh.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means I think you should pay attention to that advice,” she said. “Especially the last part.”

  “Thank you, Captain Desjani.” He dropped his hand, looking over at her. “Anything else?”

  “You’ve already done some of what she advised,” Desjani said, crossing her arms and gazing steadily at him. “Your arrival message was coded, of course.”

  “Of course,” he repeated, already knowing where she was going.

  “You apparently didn’t notice that the code you used to encrypt that message is old, and was compromised some time ago. Every news organization in the star system will be able to read your message almost as fast as the Alliance government and Fleet Headquarters can.”

  “Oh . . . that’s . . . unfortunate,” he said, trying to avoid sounding guilty. “It’s my responsibility to spot things like that, so the fault is clearly mine.”

  “Sure.” She shook her head at him. “If I didn’t know how much you must’ve wrestled with your conscience before doing that, I’d be worried about you deciding not to play by the rules in that case. But you knew as well as that woman did that a lot of very powerful people would do all they could to make sure what we found at Unity Alternate got buried so deep in the classification system that a black hole couldn’t suck it out again. That’s now impossible.”

  “Yeah.” Geary sighed and rubbed his eyes once more. “If the truth still matters, I had to do what I could to bring it out.”

  “But, technically, all you did was use an outdated code,” Desjani said. “Inside an Alliance star system. They can’t hang you for that, even if you weren’t Black Jack. Were you disappointed?”

  The sudden change of topic threw him. “By what?”

  “Her farewell.”

  “Tanya . . .” Geary frowned at the display. “She said what mattered.”

  “What mattered to her, yes.” Desjani kept her eyes on the image of Rione as she spoke. “There’s something I’ve wondered about for some time, and I think that woman just confirmed it. Why did she take up with you in the first place soon after you assumed command of the fleet? She never seemed to be in love with you, or like the sort of person who was attracted to power.”

  “Excuse me?” Geary shifted his frown in Tanya’s direction. “What are you implying?”

  “I’m not implying anything, Admiral. I think Victoria Rione wanted to be close to you not only so you’d be within reach of her knife if necessary, but also so she could serve as the person who’d tell you the truths you might not want to hear.” Tanya straightened, eyeing him. “But then she saw you developing feelings for me, realized I’d tell yo
u those truths, and backed off.”

  His frown deepened. “We’re not supposed to discuss personal matters while on duty.”

  “Is that why you’re upset at what I said?” Desjani shook her head. “That woman wasn’t the sort to give up when she wanted something. If she’d wanted you, she’d have fought for you.”

  Geary bit back an angry retort, wondering whether it would’ve been born of dismay at her words or embarrassment at the idea that Rione had only bedded him to further her own aims. He’d long since reached that same conclusion, but didn’t like hearing it from someone else. “Victoria Rione had honor,” he finally said.

  “I’m not denying that. As a single woman, she had every right to make the choices she did. But you saw her with her husband when we found him. You saw how it hit her when she learned he’d been alive all the time and a Syndic prisoner.”

  “Yes.” That had been one of the few times Rione’s shell had cracked, revealing the depth of the pain she kept shielded. “There’s no doubt she loved him, and never stopped loving him.” He let out a small, self-mocking laugh. “I guess I’m just as egotistical as anyone else. I don’t want to dwell on the idea that she was motivated by other reasons than . . .” Geary stopped, realizing he’d just dodged an incoming rock by avoiding saying he wanted to think she’d really been attracted to him.

  Tanya Desjani raised her eyebrows at him. “What was that?”

  “What was what?”

  “You didn’t finish your sentence.”

  “I was thinking. And we’re still on duty.” He nodded to the display. “Any other comments?”

  “Not at the moment. Well, one other comment. I’m glad that woman was on our side.” Desjani grimaced. “Especially at Unity Alternate. I’ll light another candle for her later.”

  “I’m sure her spirit will appreciate that.”

  “Her spirit will probably try to trip me as I’m leaving the room.” Tanya offered him a casual salute. “I’ll see you on the bridge later, Admiral.”

  “Thank you, Captain.”

  Before she made it to the hatch, alerts sounded from her comm pad and his desk. Geary checked his display as Desjani checked her pad.

  “Eyes only message for Admiral Geary, highest priority,” Desjani said. “From the Grand Council of the Alliance Senate. Want me to hang around a little longer?”

  “Yes,” he said, reaching to accept and read the message.

  TWO

  THE message, heavily encrypted and text only, offered clear direction but few clues to what his reception would be at Unity. “We’re to proceed to orbit about the primary world,” Geary told Desjani. “Once there, I’m to come down in a shuttle to meet with the Grand Council.”

  “That’s it?” She leaned over to view the message. “What makes that eyes only for you?”

  “I don’t know.” He sat back, rubbing his face. “Strange. I know exactly what Rione would be saying if she was here. They’re idiots for keeping this message so secret. If everyone knew I was coming there on orders from the Grand Council it would quiet a lot of speculation.”

  “So, we keep on?”

  “Yes, Captain Desjani. Maintain our current vector.”

  But as she was almost out the hatch, Desjani paused to look back. “That message doesn’t give any clue as to what will happen when you land there.”

  “They won’t . . .” He let the sentence die, unfinished.

  But she figured out the rest. “They won’t do anything stupid? Were you really going to say that?”

  “Tanya . . .” Geary let his eyes go to his display, where the field of endless stars outside the ship was visible once more. “I still have faith in the Alliance. Faith that enough of those elected to serve it will live up to their responsibilities.”

  She nodded. “I hope you’re right. But even if you’re wrong, I’ll be beside you all the way.”

  * * *

  THEY were still six hours from reaching orbit about the primary world, the star for Unity a small disc to the naked eye rather than a spot of light. They could now see where the planet had been an hour ago, and hear messages or other transmissions sent an hour in the past.

  During a restless walk through the passageways of Dauntless, meeting and greeting sailors who seemed cheered up by seeing him, Geary encountered General Charban, the retired officer who’d become the primary speaker with the alien Dancers. A nearby break room was empty, so they both grabbed coffee and sat down in the regulation chairs that rumor said had been carefully designed to become uncomfortable after a few minutes to keep sailors from lingering on break.

  “Have you been keeping track of the news reports?” Charban asked, grimacing as he took a drink. “I thought fleet coffee was supposed to be better than what the ground forces got, but it tastes just as bad to me.”

  “Believe me,” Geary said, “I’ve had coffee that was a lot worse than this. I think it’s a fleet tradition. No, I’ve been avoiding the news.”

  “So has your intelligence officer,” Charban said. “Lieutenant Iger knows the laws that forbid military intelligence to collect against civilian Alliance targets, and he’s ethical enough to not try searching for loopholes he could claim allowed it in this instance.” He set down his coffee, gazing at the battered surface of the table. It had been repaired using a variation on an ancient means of fixing broken items with bright strands of gold to highlight the former break and turn it into a form of art. Like everything else on Dauntless, the table had been built with the expectation that the ship would have a combat life span measured in months, because that was what the war had come to. But Geary, bringing back prewar tactics forgotten in the century-long bloodbath, had considerably raised the combat survival rate of ships, creating an unexpected problem as they outlived the life span of their components. While critical systems had been overhauled to keep Dauntless working, things like break room tables hadn’t been replaced for lack of time and the money spent on more important things.

  “I’ll summarize them for you,” Charban continued. “Some senators, by I’m sure pure coincidence those prominently named for wrongdoing in the evidence you compiled, are asserting they are in fact innocent and everyone else is guilty.”

  Geary nearly choked on his own coffee, managing to swallow without ruining his uniform. “That isn’t working, is it?”

  Charban smiled sadly. “The Big Lie is an old, old tactic. Make a lie so huge that no one would believe anyone would dare try such a massive distortion of the truth. And there’s a portion of the Alliance’s population who’ve stopped caring about the truth after hearing so many lies. So, it is working in some places among some people. Beyond that, there’s a lot of tension about you coming to Unity. What it means. What you intend. Here. I saved this one. It’s typical of what’s being said.”

  Charban displayed his epad, which showed two women and one man sitting in casual chairs arranged in a semicircle so they faced the screen and each other. “John ‘Black Jack’ Geary,” one of the women said, looking out to address her audience. “One hundred years ago he stopped the first Syndic attack on the Alliance in the famous battle at Grendel, where he was believed to have died saving as many of his crew as possible. For a century, he inspired everyone in the Alliance with his heroic example. Over time, his reputation kept growing. People began claiming that he would return someday when the need was greatest, and save the Alliance. In fact, though believed dead, Black Jack was found frozen in survival sleep in a damaged escape pod, lost amid the battle debris, and revived after nearly a century just before the Alliance fleet launched a daring and dangerous attack deep in Syndic space.”

  “An attack which resulted in a disastrous ambush,” the man in the group said. “Black Jack took command of the surviving Alliance warships and in an incredible series of battles, brought them back home. No one else could have done that!”

  “And then,” the second
woman said, “he took the fleet back into Syndic space and finally defeated the foe we’d been fighting for a hundred years. Not content with that, he soon discovered three intelligent alien races. And now he arrives at Unity, with news that secret government programs imperiled the Alliance they were intended to defend. That the legendary Unity Alternate location for the Alliance government to retreat to if the war had gone badly enough did indeed exist, and was used for more than one secret project that violated the laws of the Alliance.”

  “Black Jack saved us all. Again!” the first woman said.

  “But why is he here at Unity?” the man asked.

  “Maybe he’s decided the next place the Alliance needs to be saved is here,” the second woman said.

  “Can we trust him?” the first woman said. “Unity is the heart of the Alliance. Great men and great women have often had great ambitions.”

  “Black Jack is the Alliance,” the second woman answered as the man nodded in vigorous agreement. “He didn’t bring the fleet here as a conqueror would. Just his flagship and one other ship.”

  “That might be all Black Jack needs to do what we wants,” the first woman said. “All we can do is wait and see what he does.”

  Charban tapped the vid recording to end it. “That speaks for itself, doesn’t it?”

  Geary nodded, grimacing. “That was all about me but it felt to me like they were talking about someone else.”

  “Black Jack,” General Charban said. “Your mythical counterpart who always knows just what to do.”

  “I wish I could ask him for advice,” Geary said. “You know I can’t make a public statement about my intentions without approval.”

  “I know.” Charban paused. “But maybe you should. Until you speak, others can claim to speak for you. Some already are.” He raised one hand to stop Geary’s response. “Wait, please. I know. It’s a violation of regulations. A minor violation, as long as you don’t call for mutiny or the overthrow of the government or something like that. Measure that against the major problems that can happen if you stay silent in public. Read more of the news. A rumor that you’d been arrested might set off riots. A rumor that you’d arrested the Senate might cause something even worse.”