Because now he could see signs that the enemy was reacting, finally realizing that the Alliance fleet was fleeing toward the jump point. The time-late images of the wall of Syndic warships showed it stretching out of shape toward them as the faster ships began to pull away from their slower counterparts. Three minutes for them to see what we were doing, some time more for them to figure out what it meant, and then three more minutes for us to see them act on that information. They’ll be closing on us now, and the information will get more and more timely, but that’s not a good thing since it means the enemy will be getting closer to being able to engage our rearmost ships. He couldn’t call it a rear guard, because the ships farthest back were there from necessity, not design.
Geary found himself wishing for hidden squadrons of ships, waiting to leap out from some impossible concealment to lop the head off of the Syndic formation. But he had no such squadrons, no such means of hiding them, and any ship he sent to hit those exposed ships at the head of the Syndic advance would be unable to retreat to safety before the Syndic main body closed in.
Geary kept watching the ships and their movement vectors slide across the display and didn’t need to calculate the result. His own experience with understanding relative motion provided the answer as the minutes crawled by. “The Syndic interceptors are coming on too fast. Titan won’t make the jump point before some of them get within engagement range of her.”
Desjani nodded. “Concur.”
“Can Titan’s escorts stop them?”
She pondered the question for a moment, then shook her head. “Not just with their stern weaponry. They’d have to turn.”
“And then they’d be doomed.” I might have to do that. Might have to order that. I don’t want to lose those ships, those crews, but if it’s them or Titan, and Titan’s necessary for everyone else to get home…
Another nod from Captain Desjani. “We can abandon Titan. Try to pick up some of her crew.”
“We need that ship.”
Desjani hesitated, then she nodded a third time. “Yes.”
“Then we can’t abandon her.” Desjani gave him a worried look. Trying to figure out how the legendary Black Jack Geary can get out of this mess? If you do figure out how, let me know. How to buy time for Titan? Geary scowled at the displays, trying to find some way to change the physics and coming up with only one answer no matter how he tried.
Trade at least a ship for a ship. Either a squadron of lighter ships, or some ship powerful enough to single-handedly stave off the onrushing Syndic lead elements but less “important” than Titan. I can’t use Dauntless. Wouldn’t it be a relief if I did? Another last stand, and this time end it all for sure. No more burden of command, no more legions of desperate people looking to me as their only hope. No more fate of the Alliance, perhaps, hanging on my head, and no more hearing about Black Jack Geary, the Hero of the Alliance. But I can’t. The key’s onboard. I made a promise. Even if I hadn’t, I can’t abandon my duty to all of these people. But then which ship do I choose instead? Who do I send to their deaths? His eyes searched among the ships, trying to make a choice he hated.
And then he saw something else. “What’s Repulse doing? She’s falling back.”
Desjani gestured to her crew, then waited for a reply. “I’m informed Repulse has notified the fleet that she’ll be maneuvering independently.”
“What? Get me their commanding officer.” Repulse was still only thirty light-seconds away, so it took only a minute for Dauntless to send its request and Repulse to reply. The newly familiar face of Repulse’s commanding officer appeared before Geary. “What are you doing?” Geary demanded without preamble. “You’re going to be overtaken by Syndic ships soon unless you get your speed back up. Return to your place in formation.”
A minute later, instead of answering directly, Commander Michael Geary just grinned triumphantly. “You screwed up, Great-Uncle Black Jack. You know that, don’t you? Titan’s in trouble. Cresida’s not a bad officer, but she’s not as experienced as she’d like to think. And she can be a hothead, jumping without thinking first. You should’ve checked her plan better. It takes a lot of time sailing around Titan to realize what a slow tub she is under the best of conditions. That means there’s only one option if Titan’s going to saved.”
Geary tried to use his fingertips to push back a growing pain in his temples. “I understand Titan’s in trouble. I know we need to do something. But there’s different ways of executing that option.”
Another minute, while the Syndic pursuers grew closer. Geary watched them, impressed despite himself by the acceleration of which these modern warships were capable.
Repulse’s commander officer shook his head. “All of the options come down to the same thing. And you know it. Well, I’m going to do you a big favor, Great-Uncle Black Jack. I’m going to save you the trouble of choosing who dies. Repulse is close to the line between the closest Syndic ships and Titan. My ship’s well positioned for this action, and she’s got the necessary firepower. She’s also got damaged main drives that I’ve been pushing too hard and are threatening to fail, so she may not be able to keep up with the fleet regardless. Feel better?”
Geary felt the coldness inside again, but he could only find one word in answer. “No.”
The Repulse’s commander’s grin stretched wider at Geary’s response, becoming a bit grotesque. “Because of your mistake, I’ll finally get to live up to the legacy of Black Jack Geary! My ship holding off the entire Syndic fleet! My ancestors, our ancestors, will be proud. How long do you think my ship’ll survive, Great-Uncle Black Jack?”
Geary barely kept from snarling in frustration. A ship would die because of him. At least one, because if Repulse didn’t hold the enemy off long enough, then Titan still wouldn’t make it to the jump point in time unless Geary sent more ships back to screen her. And this man he wanted to embrace as a link to his dead brother couldn’t let go of his anger even now. “Hold them off as long as you can. They’ll try to slip some ships past you.”
A minute later, Michael Geary shook his head again. “They won’t make it. I’ll have clean shots at their flanks when they try.” The grin finally wavered and went away. “This isn’t easy, is it? I understand a bit now. I truly didn’t want this. You do what you have to do, though, and it’s up to your ancestors how it all turns out. You just have to … the Syndics will capture any of my crew who get off before Repulse dies. I know you can’t wait around to pick them up now. Promise me that some day you’ll try to get them out of the Syndic labor camps. Don’t forget them.”
Another promise, another demand on him, from someone who knew damned well that he wasn’t a demigod but still needed to believe in him. “I swear to you I won’t forget them, and I’ll do everything I can to someday get them home.”