“You’d know,” Badaya agreed with an amused expression. “After all, you have seen parts of her none of the rest of us have.” He chuckled at the clumsy joke while Geary hoped he wasn’t flushing with discomfort. “Now, I take it you want your supporters in the fleet to know what you intend?”
“That’s right.” Geary kept his voice level. “It’s important that everyone understand what is going on.” Or rather, what he wanted them to think was going on. I will not dictate to my political leadership. I just pray the military and political superiors I deal with will listen to me or at least not obviously dismiss me. “The last thing we want is for my hand to be forced by officers who think they’re doing me or the Alliance a favor but will actually be playing into the hands of the most corrupt politicians.”
“I think I can guarantee you that won’t happen now.” Badaya smiled admiringly as he stood up. “All of those times you denied wanting enough power to change things you were studying the situation and planning options, weren’t you? I should have guessed. A good commander doesn’t play by the enemy’s rules. I’m going to remember that.”
Geary slumped down after Badaya’s image vanished, rubbing his eyes with one hand and feeling dishonest, manipulative, and even a bit dishonorable. He hadn’t directly lied to Badaya, but he’d certainly misled the man as thoroughly as any politician could have done.
After a while he called Rione to his stateroom. She came in, evaluated his attitude, then smiled approvingly. “You did it. Badaya bought it?”
“Yes. I think so.”
“Good. And you’re unhappy.”
“I don’t like lying to people,” Geary told her coldly. “Maybe that’s why I’m so bad at it. I don’t like knowing I can be good enough at it to deceive even someone like Badaya.”
Rione walked slowly to one side. “Lying? What lie did you tell?”
“You know perfectly well—”
“What I know, Captain Geary, is that what you told Badaya is, as near as we can determine, truthful. Now try to get this through your thick head. Captain Badaya didn’t ‘buy’ anything. Do you believe that a military dictatorship would be a disaster for the Alliance? Yes? Then what did you lie about? I admit comparing it to the Syndic ambush hadn’t occurred to me, but once you and your captain came up with that, I thought it was brilliant.”
He set his jaw and glared at Rione. “Stop calling her that. Nobody owns Desjani, especially not me.”
“Fine, if you care to believe that.” Rione matched his glare. “You need to remember that you’re doing nothing for personal gain. You don’t want wealth or power. So why the hell should you feel guilty about forestalling a military coup against the government of the Alliance?”
“Because no Alliance officer should have even thought of such a thing!” Geary yelled, the shame and anger bursting from him. “I never should have received such an offer and when I did my immediate refusal should have been the end of it!”
Rione watched him for a moment, then looked away herself, her face shadowed by emotion. “We’re not the people our ancestors were, John Geary. We’ll always let you down when you compare us to those you knew a century ago.”
Her unexpected and very unusual candor extinguished Geary’s rage. “It’s not your fault that you were all born into a war that was already ancient. It’s not your fault that you inherited the pain and distortions caused by decades of war. I can’t pretend that I’m better than you because I was spared that.”
“But you are better than us,” Rione insisted with bitterness in her voice. “You’re what we should have been, what our parents and our grandparents should have held on to, the belief that ideals must be honored. Do you think I can’t see that? If we had done our jobs as the situation demanded of us, then none of this would have happened. And, yes, I very much include the Alliance’s political leadership in that.”
“You inherited the war,” Geary repeated. “I can’t pretend to understand everything that happened in the last century, but there seems plenty of blame to go around and more than a few things that nobody could have helped.”
“I don’t believe in making excuses for failures, Captain Geary. Not mine and not anyone else’s. Just remember that the people you trust approve of what you did just now. If you don’t trust yourself, trust them.” She turned without another word and left.
SIX hours to the jump for Atalia. As much as Geary feared finding the Syndic reserve flotilla there, he also had a growing restlessness, a desire to see this to the end. One way or the other, the Alliance fleet’s long retreat would be over soon.
“Captain Geary.” Colonel Carabali’s expression revealed nothing. “Request permission for a private meeting prior to the jump for Atalia.”
“Of course, Colonel. I have no scheduled commitments for a couple of hours, so we can have that meeting whenever you’re ready.”
“Now would be fine with me, sir.”
“Okay.” Geary authorized Carabali’s image to appear in his stateroom, then waved her virtual presence to a seat. The colonel walked over to it and sat, her back straight, rigidly formal. “What’s this meeting about?”
“Consider it a reconnaissance mission, sir.” Colonel Carabali gave Geary a penetrating look. “What do you intend doing when this fleet reaches Alliance space, Captain Geary? I’ve heard various reports and wish to know the truth for certain.”
The loyalty of the Marines to the Alliance was legendary, but given all of the other changes he’d seen, Geary had been wondering for some time how the Marines now felt about political authorities in the Alliance and how they felt about the offers to Geary to become a dictator when the fleet made it back to Alliance space. But he’d never come up with a way to ask those questions without making it appear that he was sounding out the Marines for support, which was the last thing he wanted. Now Geary sat down opposite the colonel, holding his eyes on hers. “I intend following whatever orders are given to me. I will have suggestions and a proposal for an operation, but I have no way of knowing how those will be taken. Is that what you need to know?”
“For the most part.” Carabali studied Geary for a moment. “I won’t insult your intelligence by pretending both of us don’t know that you’re not just any fleet officer. You can choose to obey whatever orders are given you, but you do have other options.”
“And you want to know if I intend exercising those options?”
Carabali nodded, her face still impassive.
Geary shook his head. “No, Colonel, I do not intend exercising any options that would conflict with my oath to the Alliance. Is that clear enough?”
“From you, yes.” Carabali paused again. “There are some close-hold messages being passed around the fleet that indicate you intend doing more than just following orders.”
“People hear what they want to hear, Colonel. As long as it keeps them from actions that would be harmful to the Alliance, I’m okay with that.”
“‘Harmful to the Alliance’ meaning?” Carabali pressed.
Geary sat back and shook his head. “The Alliance’s greatest strength has never been its star systems or population or fleet. It’s the principles we believe in and practice. I don’t think the Syndics could ever hurt us as badly as we could hurt ourselves. I won’t stage a coup, Colonel, and I’ll do everything I can to keep one from being staged in my name.” He didn’t fear word of that getting back to any of his most misguided supporters. It was what he’d told Badaya, after all.