“Nothing that a dozen Marines in full dress uniform couldn’t overawe. Though I must admit that the deciding factor was probably that Arrogant’s crew appeared unresponsive to Commander Vebos’s orders regarding the matter.”
“Naturally. They know Commander Hatherian has been appointed their new commanding officer. Commander Vebos no longer has command authority over them.”
“Yes, sir,” the Colonel agreed. “They don’t appear to be in great distress over losing Commander Vebos.”
“Somehow that doesn’t come as a great shock to me, Colonel.”
Geary glanced over at Desjani as she interjected. “Arrogant’s airlock has opened,” Desjani reported. “Commander Hatherian is exiting. Commander Vebos is being marched—Excuse me, Commander Vebos is being escorted aboard the shuttle by his honor guard.” Several moments passed. “The honor guard is leaving the shuttle. Arrogant’s airlock is closing.”
Geary nodded to Carabali’s image. “Thank you for the services of your Marines, Colonel.”
Carabali saluted. “It was our pleasure, sir.”
The shuttle detached from Arrogant and began making its way back to Orion. Geary felt a moment’s pity for the crew of the shuttle, who were confined with a doubtlessly very unhappy Commander Vebos until they could off-load him. Then he pulled back the scale on his display, looking back to see the Syndic pursuers very slowly gaining on the Alliance fleet, and then ahead to where the jump point waited. If only every thing I had to do could be as neatly and quickly done as removing Vebos from command.
In seven more hours, the Alliance fleet would reach the jump point and bid farewell to Corvus. Assuming nothing went wrong before then. Assuming Titan’s propulsion systems didn’t shift into full reverse and then fall off and spiral into a mini–black hole to be lost forever. Geary thought through that scenario twice, realized he’d not only thought of it but was actually taking it half-seriously, and realized just how tired he was. “I’m going to try to get some sleep.”
He stood and headed off the bridge, slightly surprised to see Co-President Rione still in the observer’s seat. She gave him an arch look as he passed. “An interesting show, Captain Geary.”
“You mean the bit with Vebos?”
“Yes. I assume that was meant to encourage the others?”
He frowned, trying to remember where he’d heard the phrase. “Not exactly. Vebos demonstrated he isn’t smart enough to be entrusted with command of a ship. That’s not about me. It’s about looking out for the crew of Arrogant, and looking out for anyone depending on Arrogant for anything.”
Rione gave him back a look with just a trace of skepticism apparent. Geary flicked the briefest possible smile at her, then left the bridge.
He was back several hours later, having ensured the bridge would give him a wake-up call, when the Alliance fleet jumped out of the Corvus Star System, the Syndic pursuit force still far behind them.
He’d been watching the strange lights in jump space for a while, slumped in a seat in his stateroom, knowing he had a couple of weeks ahead transiting jump space before he and the rest of the Alliance fleet would learn what, if anything, awaited them at Kaliban. So much I need to do, and so little ability to do it in jump since I have only most rudimentary communications capability with the rest of the fleet until we return to normal space. I ought to just rest. Try to regain the strength I’ve never recovered since they woke me up from that survival pod.
The fleet medics, tsking over Geary’s physical state, had prescribed certain medications, exercise, and rest. Try to avoid stress, they’d advised. Geary had just stared at them, trying to figure out if they had any idea how ridiculous the prescription was in his case.
what made it all worse was the fact that he couldn’t be sure how much weakness he could reveal to anyone else. Desjani worshipped the space he traversed, but Geary still didn’t know how she’d take it if she truly came to be convinced that Geary wasn’t a hero sent from the living stars. It’d be different if he had a long-term working relationship with Desjani or any other officer. But having almost literally fallen into the fleet from out of the past, he really knew none of them well.
Rione didn’t worship Geary and would probably be unsurprised to hear Geary’s worries. She might even have good advice, since so far Geary had been impressed by the quality of her thinking. But he still didn’t know how much he could trust the Co-President of the Callas Republic. The last thing he needed was a politician knowing his secrets and capable of trading them to his enemies for whatever political advantage they might bring.
No one he could talk to, no one he could share the burden of command with.
No, that wasn’t true. As a matter of fact, there was someone he was overdue for a conversation with. Fine one I am to talk about honoring our ancestors when I haven’t even paid my formal respects to them since I was woken up out of survival sleep.
He called up directions to the right area of Dauntless, certain that despite everything else that might’ve changed there would still be the place he was looking for on the ship. And there was. Checking the time to make sure the area wouldn’t be crowded at the moment, Geary pulled himself out of the chair, straightened his uniform, took a deep breath, then headed for the ancestral area.
Two decks down and near the Dauntless’s centerline, the place Geary was heading for was located in one of the most protected areas of the ship. Geary paused outside the hatch leading into the ancestral area, grateful for the lack of anyone else present to see him entering, then pushed through, finding himself facing a comfortingly familiar series of small rooms. He picked an unoccupied one at random, closing the soundproofed door carefully, then taking a seat on the traditional wooden bench facing the small shelf on which a single candle rested. Picking up the lighter on the shelf, he lit the candle, then sat watching it silently for a while.
Finally, he sighed. “Honored ancestors. Sorry I’ve taken so long,” Geary apologized, speaking to the spirits who’d supposedly been drawn by the candle’s light and warmth. “I should’ve rendered honors to my ancestors some time ago, but as I’m sure you know, things have been busy. And I’ve been dealing with many things I never expected to have to face. That’s no excuse, but I hope you’ll accept my apologies.”
He paused. “Maybe you’ve been wondering where I was all this time. Maybe you knew. Maybe Michael Geary has filled you in by now, if, as I fear, he died on his ship. Let me tell you, he did you proud. Please tell him I wish we’d had more time together.
“A lot of time has passed since I last spoke to you. There’ve been a lot of changes. Most if not all of those changes seem to have been for the worse. That’s what I believe, anyway. I can’t pretend I don’t need all the guidance and reassurance I can get these days. Whatever you can provide, I’ll be grateful for. Thanks for whatever help you’ve provided in getting us this far.”
Geary paused again, wondering not for the first time why speaking to his ancestors almost always brought comfort. He wouldn’t have described himself as a deep believer of any kind, but nonetheless always felt that someone was listening at such times. And if a man couldn’t trust his ancestors with confidences, who could he trust? “This is very difficult. I’m doing my best, but I’m not at all sure my best will be good enough. There’s a lot of people depending on me. Some of them are going to die. I can’t pretend that won’t happen. Even if I somehow do absolutely everything just right, some ships are going to be lost before this fleet gets home. If I make mistakes—” He stopped, thinking of Repulse. “If I make more mistakes, a lot of these people could die.