Nobody was saying anything. Rione gave Geary an impatient look and jerked her head as if to remind him that there was a fleet conference going on.
Geary studied the expressions around the table, relieved to be finding little apparent support for Commander Yin’s proposal. “Thank you, Commander,” he stated flatly. “I don’t think it would be wise to adopt your proposal. This fleet will remain together and return to Alliance space together.” He saw instantly on the faces of the others that it had been the right thing to say. “I know you are all inspired by the sacrifices of Renown and Paladin. Let’s take out plenty of more Syndic ships in the names of those brave warships.” He felt like a hypocrite praising Paladin, but her crew had died bravely enough. They shouldn’t suffer in anyone’s estimation because their captain had failed them. “But let us also learn from the example of Paladin. Hold together, and we can destroy the Syndics. Fail to do that, and they can destroy us.”
No one seemed ready to debate that point with the images of the death of Paladin still vivid in their minds, but Captain Armus of the battleship Colossus frowned at the display as if still thinking. “Captain Geary, that new Syndic strike force, the one that outnumbers us, can intercept us prior to our reaching the jump exit for Ixion.”
“That’s true, if we hold the same course and speed. We’re going to try to throw off any attempted Syndic intercept.” He indicated the display. “They’re five light-hours away from us, so they won’t even know we’re headed for that jump point for another five hours. We’ll make some minor adjustments on the way to the jump point, just enough to confuse a Syndic intercept that’s reacting hours later.”
Armus nodded reluctantly. “What do we do if that big new flotilla does manage to intercept us? Especially if Syndic Flotilla Bravo remains intact and positioned to also engage us?”
Everyone looked at Geary, waiting for his answer to a worst-case scenario. He couldn’t really present a detailed answer, not knowing how the Syndics would be positioned, what their formations would be, a hundred big and little details that would make all the difference in his response. But it occurred to him that there was one thing he could say. “What do we do? We fight like hell, Captain, and make them sorry they caught up with us.”
No one else spoke, so Geary nodded politely. “That’s all. Captain Casia, Captain Duellos, please remain for a moment.” The images of the other officers disappeared quickly, leaving Casia and Duellos giving each other challenging looks across the table. Desjani also remained, but retreated outside the range of the conference software to give Geary privacy with the other two officers. Rione just sat and watched. “Captain Casia,” Geary stated formally, “my regrets for the loss of Paladin from your division.” Casia, who looked as if he wanted to accuse Geary of being at fault in what happened to Paladin, nodded abruptly. “That’s all.”
Duellos sighed after Casia had gone. “He’s probably trying to decide if getting rid of a loose cannon like Midea was worth losing Paladin.”
“Probably. My regrets for the loss of Renown.”
“Thank you.” Duellos shook his head. “It often comes down to luck, good or bad, doesn’t it? I liked Renown, liked her commanding officer, liked her crew. It’ll be a long time before I stop expecting to see them in my formation.” He sighed. “Most of the crew got off, though. That’s something.” Duellos saluted. “Let’s hope it doesn’t get worse.”
“That’s what I’m praying for.” Geary returned the salute, and Duellos left.
Desjani came back up to Geary after Duellos had vanished, giving Rione a slightly apologetic look as the other woman remained seated, watching her. “Sir, I wanted to say … I could see how hard it must have been watching Renown. After Grendel.”
Geary nodded. Of course Desjani had understood. “Yeah. It brought back some bad memories.” He paused, letting them come clearly again. The battle had been only a few months ago for him, a century old for Desjani and Rione and the others in this fleet. “I had to give that same order. Nonessential personnel to the escape pods. It’s a hard order to give. My executive officer wouldn’t go. She said she was essential.”
He could see her so easily, the memories so recent in his mind. Lieutenant Commander Decala. A good officer, refusing to leave her post, her eyes determined and tormented. “I told her to go. Ordered her directly, personally. She wouldn’t go.” He took a long, deep breath, feeling it all again. “I told her that she’d be needed. That the Alliance would need good officers to defend itself from the Syndics, to strike back in response to the surprise attack. I told her that her duty required her to leave. She finally did.”
Desjani nodded, her face solemn. “Do you know what became of her?”
“Yes. A month ago I finally got up the nerve to look her up in the Official Casualty Records.” Funny how hard it had been to type in her name, wondering and dreading what had become of Lieutenant Commander Decala and all the other members of his old crew who had survived his last stand. “She died five years after Grendel when her ship was destroyed during an Alliance assault on a Syndic star system.” Ninety-five years ago, while Geary drifted in survival sleep.
Desjani bowed her head. “My condolences, sir. She has surely rested with her ancestors in honor since that time.”
“I like to think so.” Geary composed himself. “Thanks for asking, Tanya. It’s one of those things I have to face sooner or later.”
She nodded, saluted, and left.
Rione finally stood and walked over to Geary, seeming uncharacteristically subdued. “There are things I will never be able to adequately understand,” she stated quietly.
“There are memories no one should have to have,” Geary replied. “But that’s war for you.”
She closed her eyes for a moment. “I have a few more of those memories now, so I know exactly what you mean.
Tell me the truth, John Geary. Do you think this fleet can still make it out of this star system?”
“I don’t know. On my honor, Victoria, I just don’t know. But we have to try.”
It had been about seven days from the jump point where they’d arrived to the vicinity of the jump point for Branwyn. Now they were heading back the other way, the Alliance fleet’s path arcing through Lakota again. Geary had deliberately first lined the fleet up on a course headed for the jump point for Seruta, holding that course for an hour to hopefully get the newest and biggest Syndic flotilla charging in that direction. Then he brought the fleet around, aiming for the vicinity of the jump point for Ixion.
As he had feared, Syndic Formation Bravo had taken up position about twenty light-minutes astern of the Alliance fleet. Close enough to watch and pounce if necessary, far enough off that the Syndic flotilla could accelerate away if the Alliance ships turned to try to bring it to battle.
The only good thing about the current situation was that at least he was regaining a little combat strength for once instead of just having it slowly whittled away. Warrior, Orion, and Majestic had finally completed enough repairs to regain a level of combat capability that would let them serve as escorts for the auxiliaries if necessary. Entrusting the fates of the invaluable auxiliaries to three ships with the shaky records of those battleships would be a major leap of faith, but the spirit of their crews needed to be fixed as badly as the ships themselves had.