“I do. But what they need is thoughtful, sensible Captain John Geary, not heroic Black Jack.” She stepped back. “Think about what I said. Now, I need to catch up on how the ships of the Callas Republic are doing. I’ll see you tonight, if all is quiet.”
“Okay.” He watched her go, then turned back to his own stateroom. Have I been trying to outdo or match Black Jack? No. Aggravating as it is dealing with that legend, it has also given me the leverage I need to get the fleet this far. It’s not about me trying to outguess Black Jack. No, I’ve been trying to outguess the Syndics since I ended up in command of this fleet. Now the Syndics have seen enough of what I’m doing to try to outguess how I’m outguessing them. How do I outguess myself and the Syndics at the same time?
I need to talk to someone else. Who? Duellos, Tulev, Cresida, they’d all have good advice, but it would be the advice of officers trained to think in patterns the Syndics are familiar with. Rione is a very sharp politician, but when it comes to decisions about the fleet, she’s got limitations. Desjani … Rione was right. Tanya Desjani doesn’t think my decisions can be wrong.
Who else is there? I can’t exactly ask my opponents in the fleet for their advice, not that I’d respect advice from people like Midea, Casia, Numos, or Faresa.
Or Falco.
Falco.
Rione would scream bloody murder.
But I wonder what Falco would advise. The man’s a fool and insane, but … if I’m looking for an opinion totally different from what I would normally do…
SEVEN
“How’s Captain Falco doing?” Geary asked in a professionally brisk tone with an undercurrent of concern for a fellow officer in the fleet. He didn’t want anyone saying that they’d heard him mocking Falco.
The fleet doctor on the screen frowned slightly. “He’s happy.”
Which could only mean that Falco remained completely delusional. If he had any idea that he was under arrest instead of being in command of the fleet, Falco would be furious. “Is he being treated?”
“He’s being kept stable,” the doctor replied. “Those are our orders and the usual procedure when a next of kin can’t be contacted for a decision on further treatment. We’re keeping the condition from worsening, and we’re ensuring he doesn’t turn violent or self-harming. He spends most of his time developing campaign plans and seeing to the administrative needs of a virtual fleet he can access.”
“The last time I checked, the fleet doctors were still running tests and evaluating Captain Falco. Can you tell me now whether or not he can be cured?” Geary asked, not sure whether he really wanted to know the answer.
“Hold on while I review his record.” The doctor’s image vanished, replaced by a screen holder portraying fleet doctors at work. Geary tried not to get upset with the doctor’s attitude, recognizing the same kinds of behavior toward laypeople that doctors had used in Geary’s time a century earlier and had probably been using for quite a few millennia before that.
Finally the doctor’s image reappeared. “A cure is possible. Probable, I’d say. Of part of the condition,” the doctor amended. “We could reduce the delusions substantially, but from my review of Captain Falco’s records and history, he was already suffering from a long-term ailment before being committed to my care. That condition probably has become habitual for him and merely correcting physical problems and near-term stress-related reality avoidance wouldn’t change Captain Falco’s well-established thought patterns.”
“A long-term ailment? You mean something that Captain Falco developed while he was a prisoner of the Syndics?”
“No, no,” the doctor corrected in the slightly annoyed way his profession had of dealing with the non-doctor parts of humanity who attempted to grasp the secrets of medicine. “Long-term. Even prior to his capture by the Syndicate Worlds, Captain Falco obviously suffered from a condition in which he believed himself uniquely capable and qualified to command the Alliance fleet and win the war for the Alliance. It’s more common than you might realize,” the doctor lectured, apparently having forgotten that he was speaking to the fleet commander.
“Really?” Geary asked.
“Oh, yes. The condition was common enough to be given a name several decades ago.”
“A name?”
“Certainly! It’s called a Geary Complex.” The doctor paused, frowned, then gave Geary a close look. “That’s you, isn’t it?”
“The last time I checked,” Geary replied, wondering just how many officers in the fleet had suffered from a Geary Complex over the last century of war.
The doctor nodded thoughtfully, eyeing Geary as if expecting him to start raving at any moment. “Well, then, you should know exactly what I’m talking about.”
Geary started to laugh, then hesitated. He could imagine what Victoria Rione would be saying right now, and she’d be partly right. He did believe that he was best suited to command this fleet. But that was because his legend could be used to keep the fleet together and the training he’d brought with him from the past could win victories. It wasn’t based on any exaggerated ideas of his abilities, on any belief that he alone could command the fleet to victory. And it wasn’t about trying to match the legend of Black Jack.
I’m nothing like Falco, and don’t want to be like Falco. The differences between us are why I want to talk to Falco.
He ended up shrugging. “Maybe, Doctor. But I don’t really want to command this fleet. I don’t have any choice. I’m the senior officer and have a duty to perform.”
The doctor nodded in the manner of someone humoring a patient. “Naturally. They all say variations on that. Their duty. They have a responsibility to save the Alliance. And so forth.”
Geary sighed, not enjoying the too-close-for-comfort conversation. “I have a responsibility to save lives, Doctor, and if you look up seniority information in the fleet database, you’ll see that I’m the most senior captain in the fleet by a very wide margin.” He’d been promoted to captain a hundred years ago. Posthumously promoted since he was believed dead at Grendel, but the fleet regulations didn’t worry about that. Once he showed up alive, the seniority counted. “Can I order treatment for Captain Falco? To get him back to reality?”
“If you’re the fleet commander you can order that. Your decision would be reviewed by Alliance authorities, of course.”
It should have been easy to decide. Why let a man remain insane? But Falco was under arrest, facing a number of offenses against fleet regulations and Alliance law that carried the death penalty. Cure him, and he’d face a reality far less happy than the delusions he was enjoying. But what right did anyone have to decide not to make someone else well if they had the power? “It’s not an easy decision,” Geary finally stated heavily.
“I would recommend against it,” the doctor replied. “Taking into account all of Captain Falco’s circumstances, he could well turn both despondent and suicidal if forced to confront reality. He’d be much better off in a fully staffed and dedicated health facility when he faces those issues.”
There was the out that Geary had been hoping for. He wouldn’t have to decide on his own. “I see no reason to go against your recommendation, Doctor. Please make sure I’m informed if your recommendation changes, or if Captain Falco’s condition changes or deteriorates significantly.”