“Me, too, sir.” Carabali rose as well. “You’re not bad for a space squid.”
“Thank you, Colonel. You’re not half-bad yourself.” Carabali flicked another smile, then came to attention and saluted. As she moved to break the connection, Geary spoke again. “Colonel. There’s no other decision that lieutenant could have made.”
Carabali nodded back to him. “The lieutenant has always known that, sir, but she’s also always hated the decision she had to make. By your leave, sir.” The Marine colonel saluted again, then her image vanished.
Geary sat down again slowly. He felt like he was juggling a hundred balls at once, and if he dropped one then the Alliance would shatter.
He went up to the bridge an hour before the jump for Atalia. The Alliance fleet was arranged into a battle formation consisting of a main body and a supporting formation to either side, ready in case the Syndic reserve flotilla was waiting to fight right outside the jump exit. Geary reviewed the fleet, reviewed its logistics status, wincing at the low levels of fuel cells and expendable weaponry, then called his ship captains. “Be ready for anything when we leave jump. If the Syndics are right there within range, all ships are to engage targets of opportunity with every available weapon. More likely they’ll be at least a short distance from the jump point, and we’ll be able to maneuver into a favorable position before attacking. We’ll see you at Atalia, and after that Varandal.”
“Fifteen minutes to jump,” the operations watch reported.
Rione came out of the observer’s seat and leaned on the back of Geary’s seat. “Should I bother asking why a fleet in this condition is planning on attacking at Atalia rather than running for the jump exit for Varandal?”
“Because the Syndics will surely be prepared for our trying to run past them,” Geary replied. “Make no mistake, if the opportunity permits I’m going to head for that jump point. But I don’t expect the Syndics to give us a free shot at it.”
“They won’t stop us,” Desjani stated calmly.
Rione eyed her for a moment before answering. “I believe you.” Then she returned to her seat while Desjani frowned, clearly trying to find some hidden meaning in the response and failing. Geary watched the seconds count down as the fleet approached the jump point, then he sent the order.
“All ships, jump for Atalia.”
In three and three-quarter days, they’d find out what waited for them at the last Syndic star system they had to cross on the way home.
JUMP space had plenty of negatives. There was the itching sensation, which grew worse the longer you were in jump space, a feeling most people described as feeling like your own skin didn’t fit right anymore. There was the growing sense of unseen presences lurking just out of sight. Always, no matter how short the journey, there was the endless gray nothing, a universe lit by no stars. There were the strange lights of jump space, which flared according to no known pattern and for no known reason. With no way having been discovered to explore jump space, the lights remained a mystery. Looking at them now, Geary couldn’t forget that legend held that his spirit had been one of those lights during all the long years his body rested frozen in survival sleep. However, jump space did have the singular virtue of being bland and unsurprising. Isolated within the strange confines of jump space, ships could barely communicate by the simplest of messages, and nothing could be seen of the normal universe. Compared to the sometimes unceasing events of normal space, Geary found himself at times treasuring the relative peace that isolation offered. But no one could stay in jump space forever. Sooner or later, the real universe would have to be faced.
“We’ll be arriving in Atalia in two hours.” Desjani stood before him in his stateroom, the star display between them. “It’ll be a tough fight.”
“I just hope that reserve flotilla is smaller than Lieutenant Iger estimated and that they’re not lined up in front of the jump exit to hit us all at once with everything they’ve got.” Geary stood up and activated the display, calling up an image of how his ships would look if anyone could actually see them all in jump space. Ranks of capital ships, flocks of cruisers and destroyers, the bulks of the surviving auxiliaries nestled near the center.
His fleet. He shouldn’t think that, but he did. He’d brought it this far, and the living stars willing, he’d take it all the way home. But what would happen then?
“What are you thinking?” Desjani asked.
“I’m wishing I didn’t have to do what I know I have to do.”
“Turn over command of the fleet at Varandal? I don’t think that’s going to happen, sir.”
“I’m just a captain. A very, very, very senior captain, but just a captain.”
“You’re Captain Geary. The Captain Geary. That’s different.”
He exhaled slowly. “But if I do retain command of the fleet…”
Desjani raised a questioning eyebrow. “You’ve figured out what to do next?”
“I’ve been thinking. There’s only one thing we can do next if we make it home. If we give the Syndics enough time, they’ll recover from the blows we’ve dealt them. We destroyed the Syndic shipyards at Sancere, but those were far from the only shipyards the Syndics have turning out warships. Every day brings them closer to replacing their losses. That means we’ll have to hit them again as soon as possible, when they’re off-balance, hit them as hard as we can.” He grimaced. “Their leaders, I mean. The foundation of their power, the fleet that allowed them to attack us and coerce their own people, will hopefully be gone for a while after Atalia. We can’t defeat the Syndics star system by star system because there’s just too damn many star systems, but there’ll never be a better time to lop off the heads of the Syndicate Worlds.”
Desjani smiled grimly. “We have to go back?” She reached over and tapped the controls, the images of the fleet’s ships being replaced with a representation of the stars in a very large area of space. One of those stars, distant from Varandal, glowed brighter than the others, highlighted by the display. “Back to the Syndic home star system. But this time it’ll be different.”
“Yeah. Once the fleet is resupplied, and we’ve replaced what losses we can.” He shrugged. “That’s what I’ll recommend. Even though it’s the last thing I want to do.”
She gave him a look that for an instant told him that Tanya knew full well what he wanted but that neither of them could follow that road yet. Then it was gone, and Captain Desjani was nodding to him. “Then we can deal with the aliens.”
“Then we can try to figure out how to deal with them. If they haven’t directly attacked us already. If we make it home. If I remain in command of the fleet. There’s a lot of uncertainties. It’s kind of crazy, isn’t it? We’ve narrowly escaped destruction time after time getting out of the trap the Syndics laid for this fleet, but I’m going to suggest we go back there.”
Desjani smiled again. “If your craziness is caused by something infectious, I hope you bite every admiral we encounter.”
He couldn’t help a laugh. “We’re getting a bit ahead of things. We’re still one jump and a Syndic reserve flotilla away from Alliance space.”
“Then, Captain Geary, let’s get ready to kick some Syndic butt so we can make that jump.”
“Sounds like a good idea, Captain Desjani. Let’s get up to the bridge.”
Two hours later he waited as the seconds ticked down toward the moment when the Alliance fleet would leave jump space. Waited to find out if his worst fears would come true, if volleys of missiles and grapeshot would slam into the Alliance fleet almost as soon as it appeared at Atalia. If that happened, a smaller-scale version of the ambush in the Syndic home system that had led to his gaining command of what was left of the Alliance fleet, he’d be lucky to get through the first moments with half of his ships still in one piece.