So Geary forced himself to give Tyrosian a confident look, as if he had never doubted her ability to handle this. “Okay, to summarize, all four auxiliaries are facing serious shortages of a few critical raw materials. Unless we stock up on critical materials as soon as possible, we’ll have to cease production of vital components. Are those raw materials available in this system?” Remembering the increasingly annoying time delay in answers, he added a further question. “Would they be available at any particular locations among the mining activity we’ve spotted?”
About thirty seconds later he saw Tyrosian’s face light up. “Yes, sir. Mining activity on asteroids and near the gas giants has already been detected and analyzed by the fleet’s sensors. The most likely location where we’d find what we need is … um … at this site on the fourth moon of the second gas giant.” A secondary window popped up, revealing the place that Tyrosian had designated.
“What’s your assessment of the wisdom of demanding that the Syndics supply us with those materials?”
Tyrosian’s alarm was obvious. “That wouldn’t be wise at all, sir. They’d know why we need those particular materials. They’re all trace elements, found and used in small quantities. The Syndics could easily contaminate or destroy whatever stockpiles exist, since they wouldn’t be large.”
It just kept getting better. Geary’s eyes went back to the display. He had to surprise the Syndics with a raid on a mining facility, which would have been a lot easier if the Syndics hadn’t been able to see every one of his ships coming for days before they reached their objective. “Is there anything else I need to know, Captain Tyrosian? Anything else the auxiliaries need? Anything else that might impair their ability to keep this fleet in fuel cells and expendable munitions?” Not that he really wanted to hear any more bad news, but bad news never got better just because you didn’t listen to it. Usually, it got worse.
Tyrosian shook her head again. “No, sir. Nothing of which I’m aware. I’ll have each department on every auxiliary do a worst-case assessment, just to be certain.”
“Good.” Now, what to do about Tyrosian? She had screwed up mightily and left Geary to find out instead of telling him. The mistake had quite literally put the entire fleet at greater risk, and with the entire fleet fleeing for its life deep in Syndic space, increasing that risk took real effort.
But she had done a good job, or at least a decent one, up until now. And who did he choose in her place if he relieved her? The captain of Titan was enthusiastic but too young and inexperienced. In a fleet heavily focused on honor and seniority, elevating him to command of the auxiliaries division would create a lot of resentment, and there wasn’t even any guarantee that he could handle that much responsibility this soon. Goblin’s captain had a service record remarkable for its bland mediocrity. Jinn’s commanding officer had only recently assumed the position after Geary had relieved his predecessor. And that predecessor, Captain Gundel, had been so aggressively uninterested in serving the needs of the warships that he might as well have been deliberately helping the ends of the enemy. Gundel was parked in a small office somewhere on Titan, under orders to produce an exhaustive study on the fleet’s needs, whose sole purpose was to get him completely out of Geary’s hair, even if it took years to get this fleet home.
Remembering Gundel made Geary’s decision easier. Tyrosian might not be perfect, but the alternatives all seemed worse. And, damn it all, as far as I can tell, she’s tried her hardest. “Captain Tyrosian, I’m unhappy that we’re faced with this situation, and I wish you had brought it to my attention sooner, but you have analyzed the cause of the problem and I trust are taking measures to ensure it doesn’t happen again.” At least, he was confident she would be taking such measures as soon as she heard Geary saying that. “I need your best estimate for a shopping list of what we need, and I want a team of engineers ready to physically land at any Syndic mining facilities and assess the stockpiles. Get both of those things ready.”
Tyrosian blinked as if surprised. “Yes, sir.” Had she realized she was in danger of being relieved? Probably. She might not be among his best officers, but she was good enough to be among those who understood the concept of responsibility. Unlike his worst officers. If only the real idiots among his captains were willing to offer their resignations when they made big mistakes. But of course they wouldn’t, even if they did manage to realize they’d messed up badly. That was one of the main things that made them idiots.
Geary favored Tyrosian with another confident look. “I also need a plan for replenishing and refueling the fleet’s ships with what the auxiliaries were able to manufacture on the way here, with priority for those with the lowest fuel and expendable munitions stockpiles.”
“Yes, sir. That’s not a problem. Can the fleet formation be adjusted?”
“Yeah. I want the resupply done as quickly and efficiently as possible.”
“You’ll get that,” Tyrosian promised. She hesitated. “I’m sorry, sir.”
Geary paused, too. This time he felt sure his expression was genuine as he nodded to Tyrosian. “Thank you, Captain. I already knew that. That’s why you’re still in command of Witch and the auxiliaries division, and that’s why I’m confident you’ll perform well in both of those positions.”
He closed his eyes for a moment after Tyrosian’s image vanished, hoping he had handled that right, trying to figure out if he had truly meant what he had said or just been playing political games. Presenting a false face to the enemy could play as big a role in winning as divisions of battleships. Geary was comfortable with that. But he sometimes had to do the same with his own officers, and he had never managed to be at ease with it. Did he really believe in Tyrosian, or did he just regard her as the least bad of the choices available to him? But even if I did feel that way, what purpose would it serve to tell her that?
There’s work to be done. Stop brooding. Geary’s eyes opened and swung back to the display of Baldur System. He wasn’t at all sure how they’d manage to get those raw materials from the Syndics, but he was certain who he needed to do it. Geary tapped his controls to bring up another window. Within moments, the image of his Marine commander appeared. “Colonel Carabali, we have a job for your troops.”
Here we go again. Geary braced himself, then entered the compartment where he held meetings with his fleet captains. It wasn’t very large, and the table within could only comfortably seat perhaps a dozen people in reality, but the fleet’s virtual conferencing software made the room and the table apparently big enough to hold every captain in the fleet. After enduring numerous meetings in here, Geary was still trying to decide if that was a blessing or a curse.
He took up position at the head of the table, looking down along both sides. Apparently seated nearest him were the most senior officers, the lines of captains running into the distance in decreasing seniority until the most junior ship commanders waited at the end. Only one other person was physically present, Captain Desjani, who seemed as unenthusiastic about the meeting as Geary himself, though Geary hoped he was doing a better job of hiding it.
The absence of Captain Numos and Captain Faresa, both normally “seated” close by him and both serious thorns in his side, didn’t offer much comfort. The former commanding officers of Orion and Majestic were both under arrest but a constant source of disruption even now. Geary only had to look down the table to see eyes that were either wary or hiding whatever emotions they might hold. Fortunately, there were also many officers who clearly displayed near-worshipful (though discomforting) belief in Black Jack Geary as well as those who believed less in the legend of Black Jack and more in the man who had led the fleet this far. He couldn’t help wondering how long it would be before he screwed up so badly that their growing faith would be crushed by the reality of his own human fallibility.