He couldn’t help a small frown of puzzlement. “No one’s ever questioned that.”
Her eyes met his. “Yes, Admiral, they have.”
The past slammed down between them again, like an invisible wall that forever divided Geary from his surviving relatives. Tell her I don’t hate you anymore. Michael Geary’s last words to him. To those who came after him, Black Jack Geary had been the impossible-to-equal, and impossible-to-escape, symbol of his family. His relatives had grown up fated to serve in the fleet because of their supposedly dead and supposedly heroic ancestor. “Jane, I have told you before this that I consider you one of the better commanding officers in this fleet. That includes all of my battle cruiser commanders. You’re one of the best.”
“Thank you, sir.”
She didn’t believe him. What had changed for her while he had been gone? “I want the officer I saw defending Varandal. Forget Black Jack. I want you to be Jane Geary.”
“Yes, sir.”
Damned military formality. When all else failed, it offered the perfect hiding place for real feelings and thoughts. Geary leaned back, tapping the table. “Sit down please, Jane. I have to confess that I thought you’d leave the fleet and get on with your life now that the war’s over.”
She sat but still seemed rigid. “Not every mission is over,” Jane said quietly.
“If Michael still lives, I’ll find him.”
“You have plenty of other jobs, Admiral. I can do that one.”
“Is that why you’re staying in the fleet? To search for Michael?”
Jane hesitated. “There are a number of reasons.”
“You’ve done your part,” Geary urged her. “I’m stuck here. You can do something else.”
“I’m a Geary.” She said it in a low voice, but the force behind the words carried clearly. “More so than ever.”
He stared at her, unable to find words for a long moment. “Let’s just be clear that I believe that you have a right to your own life. Don’t stay in this fleet because of me. I’ve done enough damage to the family. But if you do stay, I need to know that I can count on you.”
“You can count on me.” She watched him steadily, no wavering in her eyes.
“I have always known that.” This wasn’t going anywhere. “Jane, as your commanding officer, I hope you will keep me informed of any matters that might impact on your ability to continue serving as well as you have in the past. As your uncle, I hope you will feel free to speak with me on any matter.”
Jane didn’t reply for a long moment, then shook her head. “I’m older than you are, Uncle. You spent a century not aging.”
“I’ve been making up for it since being recovered from survival sleep. With everything that’s been happening, I think I’ve been aging a few years every month.” The attempt at humor didn’t change her expression, so Geary gestured to her. “That’s all I had to say.”
“Thank you.” She stood once again, saluted even though the meeting had become informal, then her image vanished, leaving Geary glowering at the space where she had been. What the hell? “I’m a Geary.” That’s what she ran away from all her life. Why is she embracing it now? And how would that—
Damn. Is she embracing the legend? Does she now think she has to live up to that? I can’t live up to that.
She can’t be thinking she has to be like Black Jack.
But what Jane Geary had Dreadnaught do during that mess over the courts-martial. Isn’t that what the myths say Black Jack would have done?
Please let me be wrong. The last thing this fleet needs is that mythical Black Jack.
FINALLY free to hide in his stateroom for a few minutes, Geary found himself too restless to sit there. He decided to take a walk around the ship. As he went through the familiar passageways, he felt a lightening of his spirit. Dauntless had been built to as austere a scheme as Ambaru station’s new sections, but the battle cruiser had something the station did not. Dauntless felt like home.
He wasn’t surprised to encounter Tanya, walking steadily along, checking out everything on her ship. Dauntless had probably been a beehive of activity before she arrived, with everyone striving to ensure that not a single speck of dust marred any surface and not a single item was out of place or functioning at less-than-optimum levels. “Good afternoon, Captain Desjani.”
“Good afternoon, Admiral Geary,” she returned in the same tones, as if they had spent the last few weeks just working side by side as usual.
He fell in beside her as they walked, being careful to maintain a distance between them. This was her ship, and the crew would surely note any unprofessional familiarity. “It’s odd. Being back in my stateroom, I started to feel like everything in the previous weeks was some kind of dream.”
She raised one eyebrow at him, then brought up her left hand, holding it straight up with the back facing him so that the new ring on it glinted clearly. “I don’t usually acquire jewelry in my dreams.”
“Me, neither.”
“Something has you on edge. How did your individual meeting go?”
“Well enough, but odd.” He got another questioning look as he described his meeting with Jane Geary. “I don’t know what’s gotten into her. Jane made it clear when I first talked to her that she only joined the fleet because she had to, because she was a Geary. The war’s over now. She’s done her duty, and then some. There’s nothing holding her to the fleet.”
“Something is holding her to the fleet.”
“I told her she was free to leave, to get on with her life.”
Desjani smiled wryly. “Life isn’t usually what we plan. Whatever Jane Geary once thought she’d be, she’s spent her adult life as a fleet officer. Maybe she’s finally realizing that this has become her life. Maybe she no longer knows what else she wants to do. And maybe . . .”
“Maybe what?” Geary asked.
“You’ve told me about your family issues, how they felt about Black Jack.” Desjani bit her lower lip before saying more. “Maybe part of her was not being Black Jack, because she could hate him and think he was nothing actually worth emulating. But now she knows the real Black Jack.”
“Black Jack was never real.”
“Are you always going to be in denial about that? The point is, Jane Geary may be trying to figure who she wants to be now. Not just ‘not Black Jack.’ Something else.”
He grimaced. “That’s what I’m worried about, that she might want to be more like the imaginary Black Jack. Not like the real me. I wish she’d talk to me about it. I’m going to go talk to my ancestors. Maybe they’ll offer some understanding.”
“Have fun and say hi to them for me,” Desjani said. “I need to finish looking over the ship. I’ll go down to the worship spaces after that. To give thanks,” she added with a meaningful look at him, “for all that has gone well and all that could have gone much worse.”
“Message noted, Captain Desjani.” They were together, even if that togetherness would be severely limited, and only a fool wouldn’t give thanks for worst cases that had been averted today.
THE organization message from fleet headquarters had arrived just as Desjani and Duellos had predicted, one week after Geary had assumed command of the fleet and four days after he had organized the fleet himself. He hadn’t been sure how much the other two might have been joking about the nature of headquarters’ micromanagement, but couldn’t resist a grunt of disbelief at the size and detail of the message. Put Inspire and Leviathan in the same battle cruiser division? Why the hell would I do that since it would mean Duellos and Tulev would both be in the same division instead of leading their separate divisions as they’ve done so well? Why scramble the battleship divisions instead of keeping the ships with the comrades they’ve been working with for a while?