Lost Fleet 1 - Dauntless Page 5

  The other man actually smiled, though the expression held no humor. “You? Nothing. Not to me, or to my father, or to my grandfather. Grandfather used to say he’d have traded the honors for having you back, but then he lived in the glow of Black Jack Geary, Hero of the Alliance, not in the shadow of that Hero.”

  Geary heard every capital letter as the commander of the Repulse pronounced the words, and he let his anger show. “That’s not me.”

  “No. You were human. I figured that out. But to the rest of the Alliance, you weren’t human. You were the perfect hero, the shining example to the youth of the Alliance.” Commander Michael Geary hunched closer to his screen. “Every day of my life has been measured against the standard of Black Jack Geary. Do you have any idea what that’s been like?”

  He could guess, having seen the emotions that had greeted him on so many faces. “Why the hell did you join the Navy?”

  “Because I had to! Just like my father. We were Gearys. That’s all there was to it.”

  Geary squeezed his eyes shut and pressed his hands against his head. I’ve only lived with this image of myself for a few weeks. To live a lifetime in its shadow… “I’m very sorry.”

  “You didn’t do it,” his grandnephew repeated.

  “Then why do you so obviously hate me?”

  “It’s hard to break the habits of a lifetime.”

  I want to hear about my brother, and what happened to his children, and whatever you could tell me about my other friends and relatives, but I can’t do that with someone who’s hated me all his life and isn’t the least bit reticent about showing me that hate. “Damn you.”

  “You already did.”

  Geary reached to break the connection, then fixed his grandnephew with an icy glare. “Do you feel capable of following my orders to the best of your ability?”

  “Oh, yes. I can do that.”

  “If I see you balking or in any way hazarding other ships by your actions, I’ll relieve you of your command in a heartbeat. Do you understand? I don’t care if you hate me.” Which was a lie, and he was sure the other man knew it was a lie, but it had to be said. “But I will not tolerate any actions that will imperil the ships and sailors of this fleet.”

  The other Geary quirked a half-smile. “I assure you I will carry out my duties as if Black Jack Geary himself were my commander.”

  Captain Geary stared again. “Tell me that’s not a common phrase.”

  “It’s a common phrase.”

  “I don’t know whether to curse you again or shoot myself.”

  The smile grew. “You hate it, too, don’t you?”

  “Of course I do.”

  “Then perhaps, for Grandfather’s sake, I can wish you well. It’s hard, and even harder seeing you younger than me, but you’ll have to live with Black Jack Geary now, too.”

  “You’re expecting me to fail, aren’t you?”

  “Fail is a relative term. I’ve had to deal with pretty high standards in my life. You’re going to have to deal with much higher ones.”

  Geary nodded, as much to himself as in answer to his old and bitter grandnephew. “And you’ll be there to watch me fail to live up to the standards of a demigod. Fair enough. I’ve got a job to do. So do you.”

  “Yes, sir. Permission to get back to my work? Repulse was severely damaged in the battle, as I’m sure you know.”

  No, I hadn’t been sure of that. Too much to learn too fast. “Very well, Commander.” Geary broke the connection, then sat gazing at the blank screen for a long moment before trying to stand again. His left leg trembled a bit, so Geary balled his hand into a fist and punched his thigh hard enough to possibly raise a bruise. Then he headed for the bridge of the Dauntless, grateful for even the minor distraction caused by the lingering pain in his leg.

  The sailors who’d crowded the passageways of the Dauntless in the immediate aftermath of battle were partly gone now, most having reached the places they needed to be and devoted themselves to what needed to be done. The remainder made way for Geary, but something had changed in the way they regarded him. He could see their faces carrying not just the unwelcome awe and hope, but also growing confidence. Confidence in him or because of him, it didn’t matter which. He had to be their commander now, though, so he met those faces and tried to reflect the confidence back at them.

  The semicircular bridge wasn’t a very large compartment, either, but then large compartments made no sense in spacecraft, especially warships. The captain’s seat, which normally dominated the space, had been moved to one side and another seat with a fleet commander’s flag embossed upon its back had been fastened to the deck beside the captain’s. Captain Desjani sat strapped into her seat, gazing intently at the virtual display screens floating before her, occasionally directing a command or question to one of the officers and enlisted occupying various watch-stations filling the half-arc of the compartment in front of her. Geary took a moment to absorb the scene, finding a welcome measure of comfort in watching the familiar rituals of ship command.

  Then a watch-stander noticed him and gestured to Captain Desjani, who turned far enough to see Geary and offered a brief nod in greeting before she went back to monitoring repairs and preparations for further combat. Geary walked to the admiral’s seat a bit stiffly, pausing to run the fingers of one hand over the embossed flag for a moment. Somehow, it seemed to him, actually sitting in that seat would mark an irreversible step. At that point, he’d be actively commanding a fleet. It was a very bad time to recall that his previous largest command had been of a three-ship escort force.

  Geary sat down and looked around, trying to accustom himself to this new role. “Captain Desjani, is Co-President Rione aboard yet?”

  Desjani gave him a quick, carefully neutral look as she replied. “So I’ve been informed. Her shuttle docked several minutes ago.”

  Geary checked the time. “She must’ve bought us some time. The Syndic deadline expired over ten minutes ago.”

  “Perhaps she did.” Desjani leaned closer and lowered her voice. “How much does Rione know? About Dauntless?”

  Geary tried not to flinch. “Too much.”

  “Admiral Bloch may well’ve told her, you know.”

  He hadn’t thought of that, but it seemed reasonable that Rione could have made the same demands on Bloch that she did on Geary, and already knew where the key had been located. So why ask me? Maybe to find out how honest I’d be with her. I guess I managed a passing grade. “At least she didn’t come to join us on the bridge.”

  “I’m sure she’s still talking,” Desjani deadpanned.

  Geary found himself grinning briefly despite everything, then sobered as he called up his displays. A situation display appeared, floating at his eye level, the Syndic ships holding steady in their formation, while speed and direction vectors showed a good portion of the Alliance ships shifting in various directions, the slower ships tending toward the jump point and others moving on different vectors to conceal the fleet’s intentions. So many ships in this fleet. If I try to focus too much on one area, I’ll lose the big picture. He moved his gaze toward the enemy formation and felt his guts tighten. And so many Syndic ships. What if they’re faster, or we’re slower, or somebody just does the wrong thing?

  What if I’m that somebody?

  He studied the controls, then tried to pull up data on the Alliance ships. Instead, personnel files for every officer in the fleet appeared. Muttering angrily, Geary tried another command. This time he got a readout of statistics for each class of ships. Not exactly what he’d wanted, but still useful. Now, if he only had a few more minutes to learn more about these ships, how they differed from those he’d known. He gestured to Captain Desjani. “I’m looking at specs for the ships, and I recognize most of the weapons.”

  She gave a quick command to one of her subordinates, then nodded to Geary. “Yes. The basic weapon concepts haven’t changed in most cases, even though the weapon capabilities have become a lot better. We sti
ll use hell-lances as the primary weapon, but their charged particle ‘spears’ are faster, longer-ranged, carry more energy, and the launchers can recharge much quicker than in your last ship.”

  “And you’re still using grapeshot.”

  “Of course. It’s a simple and deadly weapon. The railguns can impart higher velocities to the rounds than in your day, and targeting system improvements let us use grapeshot at slightly greater ranges, but it’s still a fairly close-in weapon because once the patterns disperse too widely, the odds of overwhelming or significantly weakening enemy defenses are too small.”

  “What’s a specter?”

  “Basically a meaner version of the missiles you were used to.”

  “Wraiths, you mean?”

  “Yes. Specters are autonomous missiles like the old wraiths, but they’re more maneuverable, carry multiple warheads to give them a better chance of punching through shields and into an enemy’s hull, and have better survival chances against enemy active defenses.” She gestured outward. “Defenses have improved, too. Shields are stronger, rebuild and adjust coverage faster, and the ships’ physical hulls have some better survival characteristics.”

  There hadn’t been a radical change in weaponry, then. The ships still used missiles at longer ranges, augmented by hell-lances and grapeshot when they got close enough. Heavier weapons but deployed against stronger defenses. “What’s this—”

  “Captain?” Both Geary and Desjani jerked their heads around to look at the sailor who’d spoken, Geary taking a moment to realize the call hadn’t been directed at him. The sailor in turn seemed uncertain who to report to. “The Syndic fleet is broadcasting a demand for individual ships to announce their surrender immediately.”

  Geary fought down an urge to grimace, all too aware everyone was looking at him for his reaction. Rione’s efforts to stall had obviously hit their limit. He wondered whether simply remaining silent would cause the Syndics to waste time repeating their demands. “Captain Desjani, I’d appreciate your estimate of what will happen if we don’t respond.”

  She hesitated, then spoke in a rush. “I can’t be sure what the Syndics will do, but if we don’t reply, there’s a chance some of our ships may respond on their own. And if some begin surrendering—”

  “Damn.” As much as he hated to admit it, Geary knew from what he’d seen in the conference room that she was right. He couldn’t stay silent and risk that outcome. “I want to talk to the Syndic commander.”

  “Private channel, sir?”

  “No. I want everyone to see and hear us.”

  “We’ll send a hail to the Syndic flagship. It’s a few light-minutes away.” Desjani pointed toward the communications watch, conveying her order with the motion. That sailor nodded and began working his controls. Several minutes passed, then the sailor gestured forward. Geary followed the gesture with his eyes and saw a new display spring to life. Centered in it was the familiar image of the Syndic CEO who’d announced the murder of Admiral Bloch and his fellow Alliance senior officers. “Dauntless?” the CEO asked. “You were Bloch’s flagship, were you not? Are you capable of surrendering the fleet en masse, then?”

  Geary straightened, trying to keep his temper down, but not bothering to hide his own feelings. “You’re not talking to the captain of the Dauntless. You’re talking to the fleet commander.”

  The Syndic flagship was slightly behind the lead elements of the enemy fleet, placing it close to three light-minutes away from Dauntless. Geary kept his answer as short as he dared, then waited for his reply to reach the other ship, knowing the built-in time lag would automatically help buy more time for his fleet.

  Three minutes from Dauntless to the enemy flagship, then three minutes back. At about six minutes after Geary’s reply, he finally saw the Syndic CEO’s eyes shift in annoyance. “I don’t care what you style yourself. I’ve been very generous out of humanitarian concern for the wellbeing of fellow humans, but your time is up. Broadcast surrender, drop your shields, and deactivate all offensive and defensive weapon systems immediately or you will be destroyed.”

  Geary shook his head for emphasis. “No.”

  Six minutes later, he saw the Syndic fleet CEO frown in response to the brief reply. “Very well. Dauntless will be destroyed. Now if you don’t mind, I’m sure other ships will be trying to surrender.”

  “The ships of this fleet are under my command, not yours, and they will fight under my command,” Geary stated, trying to put all the ice that had once filled him into his tone. He knew his reply would be heard by his own ships far quicker than it would be received by the much farther-away enemy flagship, and would hopefully forestall any individual Alliance commanders still tempted to trust their fate to surrender. “The Alliance fleet is not beaten and will not surrender.” He hoped the words conveyed a confidence he didn’t really feel. But as long as he seemed confident on the outside, his own ships and the Syndics wouldn’t know what was going on inside Geary.

  The long-distance conversation had been continuing for almost twenty minutes when Geary saw the Syndic CEO looking off to the side, apparently checking one of his own displays. “It seems I’ll have to have my intelligence staff reeducated. I find no match for you in my database of Alliance officers.”

  “You’re not looking in the right place,” Geary advised, letting a small humorless smile show. “Try looking under deceased officers. As far back as your files go.”

  Another six minutes. “You’re dead, then?” The CEO shook his head. “A stupid ploy and waste of time. You’re not listed. A search through the entire database, including every Alliance officer known to have served in this war doesn’t produce any matches at—” The Syndic CEO stopped speaking, his eyes still locked on whatever his display was showing.

  Geary smiled again, this time baring his teeth. “I assume you found me. About a century ago.”

  By the time Syndic CEO’s latest reply came in, his face had reddened with anger. “A simple, foolish trick. If you think I’d be stupid enough to believe that, you are sadly mistaken. You’re simply stalling for time. I will not tolerate further delays.”

  “I don’t care what you believe.” Geary let the next words come out slowly, all too aware that the rest of his own fleet was listening in on this conversation. “I am Captain John Geary. I am now in command of the Alliance fleet. You’re dealing with me now. These are my ships. Back off.”

  The CEO was glowering when his latest message arrived. “Even if you were that person, there’s nothing you can do. You’re outnumbered, outgunned, and cut off. You have no options but surrender! I repeat, I will tolerate no more delays. My patience is at an end.”

  Geary tried his best to look unimpressed. “I beat the Syndics once, and I can beat them again.” He knew what he had to say. He was still speaking as much to his own ships as to the Syndic CEO. Maybe he’d give the Syndic pause, and hopefully he’d give his fleet some more confidence. Geary actually found himself enjoying this a little. Being Black Jack Geary to Alliance sailors had been a constant trial, but using his legend to rattle the Syndics was actually a bit of fun. “There’s always something a good commander can do. I repeat, this fleet isn’t beaten. If you’re foolish enough to try attacking, you’ll find we’re ready to kick you halfway to the next star system.” He knew that wasn’t true, but halfhearted bluffs weren’t going to gain him anything at this point.

  Another six minutes. The Syndic CEO eyed Geary, wariness apparent now even though the CEO was still trying to project arrogant assurance. “That’s nonsense, as you’re well aware. Your situation is hopeless. Unless you surrender now, you will die. This conversation is at an end. I expect your next response to contain your surrender.”

  Geary ignored the latest ultimatum. “Sorry to disappoint you. The Syndic fleet thought it’d already killed me once. What makes you think you’ll have more luck this time? You, on the other hand, haven’t died even once yet. And after watching what you did to Admiral Bloch, I’d be more than happy
to send you to your ancestors.”

  The Syndic CEO had been keeping his expression carefully controlled, but Geary thought he could read uncertainty there. Which was very good if true. Rattling an enemy commander’s confidence could go a long way to ensuring their defeat.

  On the other hand, Captain Desjani and the other Dauntless crew members who Geary could see seemed to be torn between happiness at Geary’s taunting of the Syndic commander and concern that the taunting would provoke an immediate Syndic attack.

  Geary waited, watching out of the corner of his eye as the ships of the Alliance fleet continued slowly repositioning. How much longer would he be able to stall before all of his ships would be ready to bolt for the jump point?

  “I have neither time nor patience to deal with a fool,” the Syndic CEO finally spat out six more minutes later, then broke the connection.

  Geary sighed and relaxed his stiff posture. “Captain Desjani, how much longer until all of our ships are in position?”

  She checked her own displays. “Your, um, negotiations with the Syndic commander bought us about a half hour, but I estimate another half hour is still needed, sir. Titan is lagging, though. She took a lot of damage,” Desjani added quickly.

  “Yeah.” Geary checked Titan’s status. Perhaps he should order the crew to evacuate…No. Titan was an auxiliary, a mobile fleet-repair-and-rebuild ship. Essentially a small shipyard accompanying the fleet to repair damage too serious for ships to fix on their own, and to manufacture replacement items from raw materials. There’d been two Titan class ships with the fleet, Geary saw. The other had been blown to fragments during the recent battle. There were other repair-and-rebuild ships still surviving, but none of them had Titan’s range of capabilities. I need Titan if I’m going to get this fleet home. But she was slow to start with, and now she’s got battle damage to her engines slowing her more. All I can do is pray I rattled that Syndic goon enough to keep his fleet passive for another half hour.

  As far as Geary could tell, the Syndic fleet hadn’t yet moved, maintaining the same position relative to the Alliance fleet. As a result of the redeployment, Geary’s own ships had shifted out of their crescent into a rough oval, which on the displays looked like a shield protecting the most heavily damaged and slowest Alliance ships that had fallen back in a hopefully inconspicuous way toward the jump point. Geary watched the symbols representing his ships crawling across space, praying for a little more time.