Boundless Page 9

  “I know we had to have outside investigators come in to root out inside problems,” Geary said. “But having everyone report for duty and stand around all day seems to have no purpose.”

  Romano nodded. “Those are our orders. Just in case someone is needed, they have to be here, even if all they end up doing is keeping a chair warm.”

  That shouldn’t have been surprising, Geary thought. Mandatory things that had no purpose were pretty much a tradition in the fleet and the military as a whole. So was standing around waiting and doing nothing just in case someone should suddenly be needed.

  He watched the sailors and officers they passed jerk with surprise when they saw his face, coming to attention with excited or awed expressions. He’d forgotten how hard it was to see people react like that to him, because those reactions reflected how much they expected of him.

  Two people were arguing to one side of the hallway ahead, next to a firmly closed door. “There are people waiting on that paperwork!” an officer was saying. “For pay and medical benefits! How long—?”

  “As long as it takes,” the other person replied. She had the slightly distracted, slightly annoyed manner of a programmer having to interact with a difficult human being. “It’s not my call.”

  The officer, frustrated, spotted Geary and took note of his rank insignia. “Admiral! Can you—?” His eyes widened in recognition and his voice cut off abruptly.

  “I’m sorry,” Geary said. “I’m sure you’re working as fast as you can, right?” he said to the coder.

  “Yes. Of course.”

  This seemed a good chance to address one of Desjani’s concerns. “Are you also screening for enigma malware?” The enigmas, an alien race so named because they diligently worked to avoid letting any other species learn anything about them, had been spying on most of humanity long before most of humanity had realized the enigmas existed.

  “Are you in coding?” she asked, startled. “How did you know about that malware?”

  “One of my officers found it.”

  “One of your . . . ?” The coder looked at him more closely, then did an exaggerated double take that seemed totally real. “Oh. You’re . . . that’s you. Okay. Um . . . the existence of that malware is highly classified. Compartmented.”

  That shouldn’t have been a surprise. But it still was. “How are people supposed to know what problems to look for if they aren’t told that malware exists? Never mind. I know you didn’t make the decision. But you can tell me if you’re screening for it. Since I know all about it.”

  “Right.” She gestured at the door behind her. “Yes, we are. We’re using an upgraded version of the program developed by, um . . .”

  “Captain Jaylen Cresida,” Geary said, feeling a pang of loss as he said her name.

  “Yes!” The woman gazed upward as if she could see through the intervening floors and into space. “Is she here? Did you bring her on your ship? I’d love to talk shop with her.”

  “I’m afraid that’s impossible,” Geary said. “Captain Cresida died soon after developing that program. Her ship was destroyed with all hands in combat.”

  “Oh.” The woman’s face fell. “What a waste.” Her expression shifted to worry. “I’m sorry. That was impolite. I shouldn’t—”

  “No,” he said. “It’s all right, because you’re right. It was an awful waste. Every person who dies in a war is a waste, because we’ll never know what they might have done with their lives.” He gestured to Romano to lead the way onward, feeling depressed and lonely despite the crowded hallway.

  The emotions seemed to be reflected back at him from the sailors he passed. They were worried, unhappy, uncertain. His presence made them perk up, but outside that bubble of hope, gloom reigned in Fleet Headquarters.

  They reached a bank of elevators, polished brass gleaming and the crowd before them parting to make room for Admiral Geary. Inside, one of the elevators was lined with expensive-looking wood and more brass. They got off on the highest floor, where Marines in full dress uniforms stood sentry. Highly polished floors reflected art lining the walls, every picture that of a spacecraft or ancient ships that sailed on water.

  Captain Romano led him to a large door, which led to an anteroom where an aide waved them on, which led to an outer office where officers and sailors sitting with nothing to do in front of dead displays jumped to their feet as Geary entered. On the other side of that office, Romano opened another large door and gestured for Geary to enter while he remained outside.

  Two admirals were waiting and came to their feet as Geary entered. One a man, the other a woman, both were smiling, bringing to mind Captain Romano’s warning. This office was big and nicely appointed, with leather chairs and displays on the walls set to show the outside as if they were large windows. Oddly, though, instead of a single desk for the commander of Fleet Headquarters, there were two desks of equal size set on opposite sides of the room, the other furniture having been somewhat awkwardly shoved into a different configuration to accommodate the extra desk. The two admirals had been seated in chairs near the center of the room, their chairs facing a third, vacant chair.

  “Geary! I’m Baxter!” one of the admirals said, extending a hand.

  Geary shook it, then took the extended hand of the second admiral. “Rojo,” she said by way of introduction.

  “Have a seat!” Admiral Baxter said, gesturing broadly toward the third chair and still smiling as if this were a social call among old friends. “I heard you got nicked during that mess out front.”

  “It’s nothing,” Geary said, indicating the spot the corpsman had covered with wound tape. “Thanks to the Marines.”

  Admiral Rojo snorted. “If only the Marines were as good at behaving off the battlefield as on the battlefield. The liberty incidents we’ve had to deal with!”

  “I’ve had experience with Marines on liberty,” Geary said. “It’s always an interesting time. But at the moment I’m particularly glad to have them around.” He sat in the indicated chair, wondering which beast from which world settled by humanity had provided the leather covering it. Then, recalling some of the things he’d heard about Syndic practices, he wondered if this chair had concealed devices in it for monitoring whether he was telling the truth.

  “Sad times,” Admiral Rojo said, sitting down as well, her eyes sharp in contrast to her own smile. That smile slipped a bit as she studied him. “A senior fleet officer not safe on the streets of Unity. And a senior fleet officer causing considerable trouble for the fleet.”

  Geary kept his expression neutral. “I did my duty.”

  “You’re not one to cross when it comes to duty, are you?” Admiral Baxter said, sitting down with careful precision. “Speaking of which, you’ll probably be interested to hear that Captain Numos has finally been court-martialed.”

  So much had happened since he’d had Numos arrested that it almost seemed like something from another life. “What was the result?”

  “Guilty, of course. Sentenced to death.” Baxter kept smiling, his eyes on Geary. “As the officer who brought charges, you have the right to approve that penalty or demand the alternative.”

  That hadn’t been something he was prepared to deal with. Which was probably why Baxter had brought it up, Geary realized. To throw him off balance. But it was a question he’d have to address. Did he want Numos dead? As bad as Numos had been? It was one thing to give orders that would kill someone in the heat of battle, but to do it in cold blood? “What are the alternatives?” Geary asked.

  “Alternative,” Admiral Rojo said. “There’s only one. Dismissal from the service with loss of all benefits. We’ve had a lot of bad cases to deal with in a hundred years of war. Limiting options allowed the cases to be dealt with a lot quicker.”

  “How long do I have to decide?”

  “We need your decision before you leave this star system.”


  “Not that you have to leave,” Admiral Baxter said, his smile still firmly in place. “You’ve been through a lot. You deserve a rest. And we need someone to tackle the job of reorganizing the fleet and our entire training system. It’s the sort of thing only you could do right.” It was a clear attempt to consign Geary to a place in the depths of headquarters bureaucracy where he commanded nothing and could take no independent action, but Baxter made the offer sound like the sort of thing any officer would jump at.

  Geary shook his head. “I’m sorry. I already have other orders. As you’ve probably heard.”

  “Oh?” Baxter looked at Rojo. “Did we receive orders?”

  “We’re locked out of all of our systems,” Rojo said. “We can’t officially receive anything.”

  “Well, damn! Geary, you know how it works. Until we officially receive any orders to the contrary, you’re subject to our orders.” Admiral Baxter actually managed to sound regretful as he said it. “And we really need you in that reorganization assignment.”

  Having prepared for any possibility, including that his orders might get “lost” at headquarters for an extended period, Geary held out his comm pad. “Here. There’s a copy of my orders, authenticated as coming directly from the Senate. I was assured this meets all requirements for official transmission of the orders.”

  Admiral Baxter and Admiral Rojo didn’t say anything as they read the order. “This is a bad precedent,” Rojo finally said. “An officer going outside the chain of command like this.”

  “It wasn’t my idea or initiative,” Geary said.

  “But it looks bad,” Baxter said. “It’s just not done, you know? That’s not how the fleet operates.”

  “I had understood,” Geary said, “based on existing records and his own statements, that command of the fleet that I inherited had previously been gained by an admiral going directly to the Senate Grand Council.”

  That floored both of the other admirals for a long moment. Rojo recovered first. “That was an exception. A nearly disastrous exception.”

  “Admiral Otropa also had a lot of political connections that he used to gain command,” Geary said. “I could cite more. However, the important thing is that these orders exist, they take precedence over any orders from you, and you have officially received those orders. We should move on.”

  “We have responsibilities, too,” Baxter said, still smiling.

  Geary looked toward one of the fake windows, seeing a view over the city, white clouds on blue sky. It felt odd after so long seeing only space on outside displays, or the formless gray of jump space, or the nothing of hypernet travel. “Look, I’ve got these orders. I accepted them. This is an important assignment. It’s the sort of thing the fleet used to do, before the war with the Syndicate Worlds. Since you two are here I’m assuming neither of you was involved in the Defender fleet mess. So why don’t we play straight with each other? I don’t want to run roughshod over you. But I have a job to do.”

  Baxter and Rojo looked at him as if considering their words. Finally, Admiral Baxter leaned forward a bit, his smile barely visible now. “Tell me something. Why aren’t you sitting in this office? Why didn’t you take over everything?”

  “I have no desire to take over everything,” Geary said, trying not to look aggravated. “I’m trying to do my job. The Senate obviously thinks that you can do the job of cleaning up problems here.”

  “You’re not up to this job?” Rojo asked, her own smile completely vanished.

  “Frankly,” Geary said, “no, I’m not. I don’t know enough people here, I don’t know their histories, I wasn’t part of the fleet for a long time. I’m still learning what that means. The incident outside reminded me forcefully that my skills and my experience are limited to certain areas. I can command a combat force in space. But cleaning up headquarters requires different talents. I’m sure the Senate knows that better than I do. That’s why you’re in this office, not me.” He’d been trying to figure out which one was in charge and which the second in command, but Rojo and Baxter kept giving conflicting clues to their relative status.

  “Leaving you with command of most of the fleet’s remaining firepower, and now control of budgeting for your missions. The Senate aren’t the only ones worried about how much potential power you have,” Admiral Rojo said. “Believe it or not, I want the Alliance to survive.”

  “I believe it,” Geary said. “Why won’t you believe me?”

  Baxter answered. “We don’t have a lot of positive experiences with people who can do anything they want to.”

  “Have I abused my power yet?”

  “From the perspective of Fleet Headquarters?” Admiral Baxter asked. “Hell, yes, you have. You’re not just a loose cannon. You’re a loose supernova.”

  “You’ve undermined Fleet Headquarters repeatedly,” Admiral Rojo added.

  “If we’re being blunt,” Geary said, trying not to get angry, “Fleet Headquarters has repeatedly tried to sabotage me by withdrawing ships, taking skilled personnel, and withholding necessary funding. I’m well aware that there was a faction here which didn’t want me or my fleet returning from our exploration mission far beyond human-occupied space.”

  “Those are pretty serious charges,” Rojo said.

  “I can document them.” He and Rojo held each other’s eyes, daring the other to look away.

  “Hold on,” Admiral Baxter said, waving both hands and leaning back. “This won’t get us anywhere. Cards on the table, Geary, we’re going to try to rein you in. Not for our own personal advancement, but because you’ve got too much power. Even if you never use that power in negative ways, it still sets a very bad precedent.”

  “We?” Geary looked from Baxter to Rojo. “Which of you two is in charge?”

  “Both of us,” Rojo said. “Co-command.”

  “Because,” Admiral Baxter said, “as you’d know if you’d been around the fleet for the last few decades instead of frozen in survival sleep, we hate each other. Have ever since we were ensigns. So the Senate decided we should command jointly, reasoning that if one of us tried to do something even remotely wrong, the other would happily turn them in.”

  “Which really wasn’t bad thinking,” Admiral Rojo conceded. “Neither one of us will let the other get away with anything that isn’t by the book.”

  Surprised, Geary took a moment to respond. “I guess that supports my evaluation that I don’t know enough about current leadership to clean up this place.”

  “Maybe it does,” Rojo said. “I’d love to bust you, but I’d also love to bust this guy,” she added, pointing at Baxter.

  “Likewise,” Baxter said, smiling at Rojo in a way that was now blatantly insincere. “One thing we agreed on was trying to neutralize you, but you’ve already outflanked us. We have to publicly support you, because you’re that guy. Black Jack. But we’ll be doing everything we can behind the scenes to limit your power and restrict your actions. Because we both believe it’s not in the best interests of the Alliance for one officer to have as much influence as you do.” His smile at Geary this time was oddly genuine.

  “I’m not comfortable with the situation myself,” Geary said. “I’ll support your efforts to get headquarters cleaned up, and for making sure those who’ve been violating laws and regulations under cover of secrecy get called to account. But I’ll also be doing everything I can do to carry out my orders from the Senate. Because that’s my responsibility as an officer of the Alliance. And if either of you do anything to hinder that effort, including any measures that will harm the readiness and crews of my ships, or endanger my assigned mission, I will ensure that becomes known.”

  Rojo’s smile had returned. “I have a vision of us offering aid to each other with one hand while holding a gun to each other’s head with our other hand.”

  “As long as we understand each other,” Geary said. �
��I’m curious how you’re going to make co-command work if you both hate each other, though.”

  “You don’t think we’re professional enough?” Rojo asked, baring her teeth. “It’s simple. If necessary things don’t get done, we both get fired. If things go well, one of us gets promoted to being the only fleet commander. But we don’t know which one.”

  Admiral Baxter nodded. “The Senate has informed us that the choice would be deliberately random to prevent us jockeying for credit for whatever goes right. So if we prevent the other from getting things done, no matter how we try to blame them, we get fired, too. But if we get things done, one of us might end up being the sole commander, and the other will be left in the dust.”

  “The only way to win is not to screw with each other,” Rojo said, “and actually get the job done.”

  “They’re not worried about a mutual suicide?” Geary said. “Where you each sacrifice yourself to take down the other as well?”

  “Admiral Rojo isn’t worth me sacrificing my career,” Baxter said.

  “And Admiral Baxter is worth even less to me,” Rojo said. “They did choose us well. Perhaps the Senate should’ve intervened more in high-level fleet appointments over the last few decades.”

  “You’re saying something good about the government?” Geary said, not bothering to hide his surprise.

  Admiral Baxter made a face. “It feels nice to be able to blame someone else for your problems, but that’s no way to fix things. As I believe a certain admiral told the public yesterday. It applies to the fleet as well. We have to face our own failures and address them from the inside.”

  “He does that to annoy me,” Admiral Rojo said. “Saying things I happen to agree with so I can’t tell him he’s wrong. But, as long as we’re being blunt with each other,” she said, looking at Geary, “having you underfoot will make our efforts a lot harder. Just by existing here you constitute a challenge to our authority.”