Despite a scattering of skeptical expressions, most of the ship commanders seemed relieved and interested. “We’ll go through formations, practice battles, maneuvering.” At the mention of practice battles, even more of them perked up, as if Geary’s interest in preparing for combat relieved them of some concerns. “I’ll set up a schedule for those,” continued Geary. “It’ll be intense, because I don’t know how long we’ll have to practice. Any questions?”
“Where are we going from here?” Captain Tulev asked.
“That’s still under consideration. As you know, we’ve got several options.”
“Then you’re not worried about having to leave Kaliban in a hurry?” Tulev gave Geary a look that clearly communicated that he knew the answer Geary was going to give.
Geary smiled slowly back, grateful for Tulev setting up an opportunity for a strong answer. “We’ll leave Kaliban when we damn well feel like it, Captain.”
A sort of cheer erupted around the table as most of the ship commanders expressed their approval of the sentiment. Geary kept his smile, even as he felt relief at apparently having succeeded in telling these men and women that they needed a lot of training without harming their pride in themselves and their abilities. “That’s all. I’m working out the schedule for combat exercises and will transmit it to all ships when it’s ready.”
Captain Desjani stood, nodded to Geary, and walked quickly from the room, scanning her data pad for the latest actions required of the captain of the Dauntless. The images of the other ship commanders began vanishing rapidly as they raced off to let their own subordinates know the outcome of the meeting. Geary focused on one officer and held up a restraining hand. “Captain Duellos, a private word if you please.”
Duellos nodded in assent, his image “walking” toward Geary while those of the other remaining commanding officers vanished like a rapidly bursting cluster of bubbles, and the apparent size of the compartment shrank back to its real proportions. “Yes, Captain Geary?”
Geary rubbed his neck, trying to decide how to ask his question. “I’d appreciate your assessment of something. During that meeting there was talk of pride and of us refusing to engage at Corvus. How do you feel about that?”
Duellos canted his head to regard Geary. “You particularly value my opinion? I cannot claim to be representative of the opinions of all of the other captains in the fleet.”
“I know that. I’d like to know what you think, and what you think the others think.”
“Very well.” Duellos twisted up one corner of his mouth. “I understood what you said of pride. But you must understand that pride is one of the touchstones of this fleet.”
“I never said they shouldn’t be proud!” Geary threw his hands upward in annoyance.
This time both corners of Duellos’s mouth twitched upward momentarily as if he were trying to find humor in the situation. “No. But the importance of pride cannot be discounted. There have been times, Captain Geary, when our pride was all that kept us going.”
Geary shook his head, looking away. “I respect you far too much to think that empty pride is the only motivator you could call on. I think what you call pride is something much more than that. Belief in yourselves, perhaps, or perseverance in the face of adversity. Those are things to be proud of. That’s not the same as being proud.”
Duellos sighed. “I fear we’ve lost the ability to distinguish between those things. Lost it somewhere along the way from your time to now. War warps things, and human minds are far from the least of the things it twists.”
“Then do you also think we should’ve engaged the Syndics in Corvus?”
“No. Absolutely not. That would’ve been foolish for the reasons you pointed out. But…” Duellos hesitated. “May I speak frankly?”
“Of course. I’m asking you this because I trust you to speak the truth to me.”
Duellos made the very brief smile again. “I can’t claim to always know what truth is. I can only tell you what I believe it to be. You must understand that while most of the commanding officers in the fleet believe deeply in Black Jack Geary, many wonder if you are still that man. Patience,” he added as Geary made to speak. “I understand you never were that man. But they look for the qualities of Black Jack Geary in your actions.”
Geary thought about that for a moment. “And if they don’t see what they think of as Black Jack’s qualities in me?”
“They will question your ability to continue in command of this fleet,” Duellos stated flatly. “Since your assumption of command, there have been those who have spread rumors that you are a hollow man, damaged by the long period of survival sleep, an empty, wasted vestige of the great hero. If you come to be perceived to be lacking in the will to engage the enemy, it will give great strength to those rumors that your spirit has fled your body.”
“Hell.” Geary rubbed his face with both hands. As much as he hated being held up as a figure of legend, being labeled some sort of soulless zombie didn’t strike him as any improvement. And such a label could critically damage his ability to command the fleet. “Is anybody contesting these rumors?”
“Of course, sir. But words from such as me mean nothing to those who doubt you. Those who can be swayed are looking to your actions.”
Geary threw up his hands in exasperation again. “I can’t fault that on principle, can I? I won’t ask you who those rumor-mongers are because I’m sure you wouldn’t tell me. Captain Duellos, I took this command to get the fleet home. If I can do that without fighting a big engagement, it’ll mean I did that without losing any more ships.”
Duellos eyed him for a long moment. “Captain Geary, getting the fleet home is hardly an end in itself. I won’t pretend that it’s not a matter of great importance, but the fleet exists to fight. The Syndics must be defeated if this war is to end. Any damage we can do to them on our way home will benefit the Alliance. And sooner or later, this fleet must engage the Syndics again.”
Geary stood for a long moment, his head full of darkness, then nodded heavily. “I understand.”
“It’s not that we want to die far from home, you understand.” Duellos actually mustered a wry smile this time.
“Actually, I do.” Geary tapped his left chest, where few ribbons adorned his uniform in contrast to the row upon row of action awards that Duellos wore. The unmistakable pale blue of the Alliance Medal of Honor stood out among them, the award for his “last battle” that Geary didn’t believe he’d earned but which regulations required him to wear. “You’ve all grown up with this. Fighting and dying is something you accept as a fact of life. My mind-set’s still back a century ago, when peace was the norm and all-out war only a possibility. For me, combat was a theory game, where the referees would tote up points at the end to decide winners and losers, and then everybody would go have drinks together and lie about how brilliant their tactics had been. Now it’s all real. Everything at Grendel happened so fast that I didn’t have time to think about being in a war.” He grimaced. “Your fleet is far larger than the fleet that existed in my time. I could, in one battle, lose more sailors than were in the entire fleet I knew. So I’m still adjusting to this, to being thrown into a very long-lived war.”
A shadow fell across Duellos’s expression. “I envy you, sir,” he stated softly.
Geary nodded and gave Duellos a thin-lipped smile. “Yeah. I don’t really have grounds to complain about that, do I? Thank you for your candor, Captain Duellos. I appreciate your frank insights.”