“Yes, sir. It goes on a bulkhead in my stateroom. It’s much less public that way.”
“If it’s in your stateroom, I might never get to see it. I thought that we’d agreed I shouldn’t visit you there for the sake of appearances.”
She frowned in thought. “Maybe I’ll let you borrow it every once in a while.”
“Thanks.”
THE conference room was familiar, too, but not so comforting. There had been too much drama in that compartment for it to carry any sense of relaxation. Geary sighed and sat down, checking the conferencing software and thinking through what he would say. The fleet was currently spread out in orbits around Varandal, with the farthest ships from Dauntless almost ten light minutes distant. “That’s going to cut down on real-time questions and answers,” he said.
“You wish,” Desjani commented as she checked things on her own display.
As usual, she had understood how he really felt. “I can dream, can’t I?”
Further conversation was cut off as virtual images of commanding officers began popping into existence along the table. The table, and the compartment, seemed to grow in length to accommodate their rapidly increasing numbers. They were familiar faces now. Most of them, anyway, though with hundreds of commanding officers to deal with, Geary knew only a few well and some hardly at all. He took a moment to focus on Orion’s latest commanding officer as Commander Shen’s image appeared. Shen was thin, small in stature, and wore an annoyed look that seemed perpetual rather than the result of any particular event. Geary resolved to check on the man’s service record as soon as possible.
But Desjani glanced up when she realized that Shen had arrived, then smiled and gave him a friendly wave. Commander Shen’s eyes went to her, then the lower half of his face seemed to crack like rock being ravaged by an earthquake as he briefly returned the smile before nodding in reply and resuming his irritated expression.
“You know him?” Geary asked Desjani.
“We served together on a heavy cruiser,” she replied. “He’s a very good officer.” As if knowing what Geary was thinking, Desjani added one more thing. “Looks can be deceiving.”
“I’ll take your word for it when it comes to him, anyway.”
“Orion followed orders,” Desjani pointed out.
“Very good point.” If Shen could turn around Orion, he would earn the right to bear any expression he favored.
A moment later, Geary blinked as another commanding officer appeared. This captain seemed to be nearly a twin of Commander Shen, right down to the aggravated appearance, which looked like it rarely varied. Sensing Geary’s focus, the meeting software brought the captain’s image closer and identifying information appeared next to him. Captain Shand Vente. Invincible.
“What happened to Commander Stiles?” Geary asked in amazement.
Desjani glanced up again, then at Vente with clear distaste. “Somebody more senior in rank and with better political connections must have pulled some strings and gotten orders to assume command. Remember, command of a battle cruiser is regarded as an essential ticket punch on the way to making admiral, and if it was hard to make admiral during the war, it’s going to be damn near impossible now that admirals won’t be dying by the handfuls in battles.” Her glance strayed to Geary. “Except for you, of course, who can’t stop getting promoted to admiral over and over again.”
“Lucky me,” Geary muttered. Every once in a while, something like this still happened, something that drove home just how much the century-long war with the Syndics had warped the fleet. It wasn’t that politics had been foreign to senior officers a hundred years before, but political jockeying had been carefully hidden, never blatantly displayed by acts such as relieving another officer of command after only a few months so someone else could get their promotion ticket punched. “Is Vente related to Shen?”
“Why—?” She looked at Vente and did a double take. “Not that I know of.”
Vente, alerted by the conference software that Geary was looking his way, turned his face toward the head of the table. Unlike Shen’s, his annoyed expression didn’t waver as he hesitated, then nodded abruptly before resuming his stare at the table before him as if something irritating rested there.
Feeling sorry for the crew of Invincible but not sure that he would be able to do anything about Vente in the time available, Geary felt comforted by the arrival of Captain Tulev. Almost immediately after Tulev, the commanding officers in his division showed up in their seats, including Commander Bradamont. She sat quietly, looking at no one in particular, just as Geary recalled seeing her at past conferences when he had noticed her at all. If he hadn’t had so many other things to worry about, he probably would have wondered why someone so forceful in combat was so retiring in conferences. But then, considering his problems during that period with officers like Captain Numos, who were more forceful in conferences than in combat, if he had really taken much notice of it, he would probably have just been grateful.
That thought diverted him enough that Geary entered a fast query on Numos’s status. Still awaiting court-martial. The wheels of justice grind slowly sometimes. But they still had time to generate those idiotic charges against over a hundred fleet commanding officers when they should have been dealing with Numos.
Images were flooding in by then, the room seeming to expand at a rapid pace to accommodate their numbers. Captains, commanders, and lieutenant commanders in charge of battle cruisers, battleships, heavy and light cruisers, fleet auxiliaries, and destroyers. Captain Duellos leaned back casually, as if the fleet hadn’t been on the verge of mutiny a short time before. Captain Tulev sat stolidly, little emotion apparent, but he nodded a welcome-back to Geary. Captain Badaya peered around suspiciously, plainly still expecting government agents to pop out of the bulkheads and start arresting officers. Captain Jane Geary just sat calmly, giving no outward sign that she had been agitating for trouble not long ago. Captain Armus also revealed no uneasiness, not that he had cause for it, as usual appearing as ponderous as the battleship he commanded. Geary hadn’t fully appreciated until now just how solid and reassuring that kind of ponderousness could be when others were dashing around in alarm.
The final officer flashed into existence, and Geary stood up, the images before him reacting in staggered motion, those on ships closest to Dauntless, within a few light seconds or less, responding almost in real time, while those on the most distant ships, light minutes away, might still be reacting to his standing up when he had finished talking. “Let me start by laying out the situation. I have been assigned command of the new First Fleet. Every ship here is also assigned to that fleet, so as of half an hour ago, I am officially your commander once more.”
Badaya’s suspicious look vanished, replaced with smug assurance. Others reacted with obvious relief or cheerful smiles, though the delayed reactions allowed Geary to easily see that some others took the news either stoically or with some worry.
“As you have no doubt guessed, the First Fleet was created for a purpose. We are to deal with threats to the Alliance before they reach the Alliance. We have been assigned our first mission in keeping with that responsibility. It’s a demanding task, but I’m certain that this fleet will be able to carry it out.” Tapping controls, Geary brought up a display of far-distant but recently familiar space. “You all know this area. Part of the Syndic border facing the alien race we fought. The Alliance needs to know more about these aliens. A lot more. Especially how big a threat they might pose to us. So we’re going back there, and this time we’re entering alien space and getting some answers.”