“The living stars didn’t create the hypernet gates,” Geary replied, his voice harsh.
“If they guided us, it’s the same—”
“Someone … something else gave us that technology. I’m sure of it.”
Duellos pondered the words for a long time before answering. “Some thing. Nonhuman?”
“That’s my guess. Rione agrees with it. We think they’re on the far side of Syndic space.”
“An interesting idea.” Another long pause. “They gave us poison wrapped in candy and are just waiting for us to pop it into our mouths?”
“Maybe.” Geary made a gesture toward the star display. “We can only guess at their motivations. They’re right that humanity is just stupid enough to take their gift and wipe itself out, but they forgot something else about people.”
Duellos raised a questioning eyebrow. “And that would be?”
“We hate being told what to do, and we’re very unpredictable.”
The other officer smiled. “True. May I share this information?”
“Yeah.” Geary thought a moment. “Tell the same people who know about the hypernet gates. I’ve been so afraid of what might happen if the wrong people hear that I forgot to make sure more of the right people know what’s going on. Just in case something happens to me.”
Duellos frowned again. “Bad as we’ve become, assassination of superior officers has never been a path to advancement in the Alliance fleet.”
Geary couldn’t help laughing. “Sorry. I didn’t mean that. But, you know, there’s a war on. People get hurt.”
“So I’ve heard.” Duellos stood slowly, his face thoughtful. “The stakes keep rising, and the responsibility ultimately rests on you. How are you doing?”
“Lousy.”
Duellos nodded. “If worse comes to worst, and you are lost in combat, I’ll do my best. With everything. You have my word on the honor of my ancestors.”
Geary stood as well, reaching to grasp the shoulder of the image and remembering in time to just mimic the gesture. “I never doubted that. Thank you, my friend.”
Duellos saluted, Geary returned the gesture, and the image vanished, leaving Geary truly alone again.
FOUR
No matter how bad it got, no matter how lonely and isolated he felt in command of this fleet, there were always his ancestors.
When the fleet finally reached the right point around the sun of Baldur and entered jump space en route to Sendai, Geary watched the external display change from endless star-spangled black to endless dull gray shot through with occasional lights that bloomed and faded. No one had known what the lights were in Geary’s time, since it had been impossible to explore jump space, and with the advent of the hypernet, interest in jump space had faded. Or maybe the lines of research that might have explained the lights in jump space had been forestalled by the need to support the war with all the scientific, technical, and monetary means available.
Captain Desjani caught Geary gazing at the lights, realized that Geary had noticed her noticing him, and looked away quickly. She’d told him soon after he assumed command that many sailors believed that Geary had been one of those lights, his spirit resting in the otherwise unchanging expanse of jump space until the Alliance’s need was so desperate that the legendary Black Jack Geary would return to save his people. Did they still believe that, after learning that Geary had actually been drifting in a damaged survival pod orbiting the star named Grendel at the edge of Alliance space for all those years, the beacon inoperative, the survival sleep equipment barely keeping him alive until this fleet stumbled across him?
Would he ever see Grendel again? He didn’t particularly want to. It was pretty much a useless star, the sort of place ships and convoys had once passed through on their ways to important places. Geary had been told the system had been abandoned because it was too close to the border with the Syndicate Worlds, and there wasn’t anything really worth defending in it, the wreckage of dozens of battles orbiting the star the only remaining signs of humanity’s former presence. But some of that wreckage had belonged to his old ship, the ship destroyed while covering the retreat of the rest of the convoy. A lot of his crew had died at Grendel. He owed them a respectful visit to the place where they had fought and died under his command.
Unfortunately, a lot more people had already died under his new command, including almost certainly his own grandnephew, whose ship Repulse had been destroyed covering the fleet’s retreat from the Syndic home system. Michael Geary probably rested with Geary’s ancestors now, ancestors he hadn’t paid respect to for too long. “Captain Desjani, please hold everything but emergency calls for me for the next hour or so.”
She nodded, her own face weary from time spent on the bridge while in enemy space. “There’s not much chance of an emergency while we’re in jump. Jump space might be boring, but at the moment boring sounds pretty nice.”
Geary turned to leave the bridge of the Dauntless, his eyes resting for a moment on the empty observer’s chair. Co-President Rione had normally occupied that chair even for something as routine as entering jump space. I need to find out what’s going on with her. I’ve needed to do that for a while, but I could find excuses not to while we were in Baldur Star System.
He left the bridge, but instead of heading for his stateroom went deeper into the ship, toward a set of compartments buried as deeply within the battle cruiser as possible, protected as well as anything on the ship from enemy fire or accident. With all else that had changed since Geary’s time, finding those compartments still on ships had been a major relief.
Sailors and officers in the passageways made shows of saluting Geary as he passed, smiling at him with looks of admiration and hero worship. He smiled back, even though inside Geary wanted to shake all of them and ask why they couldn’t see that he was as human and as prone to error as each of them. He returned the endless salutes, his arm tiring rapidly from constant use and causing Geary to wonder if maybe he shouldn’t have reintroduced saluting to the fleet after all.
There were a few sailors standing near the worship spaces, but they all cleared a way for Geary when he arrived. After he’d passed them, he heard the murmur of whispered conversations. The crew liked knowing that he talked to his ancestors, liked knowing that he sought their advice and comfort just like anyone else.
Geary entered a small room, pulled shut the privacy door, then sat down on the wooden bench facing a small shelf on which a candle rested. Picking up the nearby lighter, he set the candle’s wick ablaze, then sat a little while, relaxing his mind as he waited for his ancestors’ spirits to gather.
Finally, he started talking. “Thank you, my ancestors, for bringing this fleet safely through another enemy star system. Thank you for guiding me in my decisions and for your help in ensuring we lost no people at Baldur.” Geary paused, his thoughts straying to places he hadn’t let them go for a while. “I hope Baldur hasn’t changed. I’d still like to see that world someday, see if it’s really what everyone used to say. But nobody in this fleet but me remembers that. Nobody else in this fleet remembers Baldur as anything but another enemy star system.”
Another pause while Geary let his thoughts drift. “I hope I’m making the right decision by going to Sendai and the stars beyond. If I’m wrong, please find a way to show me. These people trust me. Well, most of them do. Some of them think … hell, I don’t know what they think. It’s not like I want this job.”
He looked beyond the candle at the bulkhead, mentally seeing the emptiness outside of Dauntless’s hull. “It’s a great temptation. You know what whispers to me. Just be Black Jack Geary. Just do whatever I think is right. It’d be so much easier. Don’t try to convince people. Just show them how it should be done. I have to keep reminding myself that I’m not who they think Black Jack is, some perfect hero. If I start acting like someone I’m not, it could be a disaster for not just the Alliance but for all humanity.