Geary looked back at her steadily. “So you lost the election because you insisted on being honest.”
“That is ironic, isn’t it?”
“As you once took pains to point out to me, some of the ships in this fleet are from the Callas Republic. Their crews, and the crews of the ships from the Rift Federation, are expecting orders to go home. They haven’t received them yet, and I’ve been trying to decide whether I should leave those ships at Varandal.”
Rione looked away again and shook her head. “They’ll be waiting a long time for such orders. The government of the republic won’t be calling back those ships. Don’t expect me to say that publicly, and don’t expect any official acknowledgment of that policy from either the republic or the federation.”
He thought about the hopeful looks on the faces of those commanding officers, who thought they would soon be returning to their home space. “That makes no sense at all. If they want to loosen ties with the Alliance, why should they leave the bulk of their warships under Alliance control?”
“Because they fear those warships.” Rione turned her head and regarded him with a somber gaze. “The new government strongly suspects that the crews are more loyal to Black Jack Geary than they are to the government of the Callas Republic. They’re probably right.”
His temper flared, all of the anger he had felt during his confrontation with the grand council surging to life again. “Suspicions don’t excuse treating those crews that way after all of their courage and sacrifice! How can they treat their own people like that? If they distrust me, fine! I’m getting used to it. But I will not allow those ships to be exiled from home because of vague concerns about what I might do someday!”
She confronted his anger without flinching, simply gazing back at him, then shook her head slowly. “You’re letting the Alliance do it to their own warships, aren’t you, Admiral?”
“My Alliance ships will be coming home between missions!”
“Of course.” Her tone conveyed no hint of agreement or emotion.
“I’ll send those ships home,” Geary said. “On my own authority. I’ll tell those ships to return to the Callas Republic and—”
“I did bring orders with me, but the orders from the republic are for those ships to remain with the fleet. The orders imply the continued duty here is temporary but don’t actually say so.” Rione’s eyes were fixed on some point in one corner, avoiding his own gaze. “Understand this. You can’t change those orders without overriding political authority, and the new government in the republic has a lot of excellent-sounding reasons for keeping those ships with you.”
“I don’t get it.” The flat anger in Geary’s voice drew her gaze back to him. “Nobody in the government trusts me, but they want all of these warships to remain under my command. The Callas Republic wants to loosen ties with the Alliance, but it also wants the bulk of its warships kept under my control. Are they all insane, or am I?”
She closed her eyes once more for a moment. “You’ll keep the ships. Other admirals would consider that a gift.”
“What’s the catch?”
The silence dragged on for so long that he had decided she wouldn’t answer, but abruptly Rione did. “Don’t expect to see much support from the Callas Republic for those ships. The crews will be paid, but repairs and operating costs will be dealt with piecemeal, grudgingly, and slowly, and there will be no replacements to keep the crews up to strength.”
It took a moment for that to sink in. “They’ll just be allowed to wither away, then? Until they’re destroyed in action or not worth keeping going and what remains of their crews are sent home, now safely diminished and without warships to threaten anyone.”
Rione didn’t answer at all that time.
“What about the Rift Federation ships and crews?” Geary asked.
“I’m from the Callas Republic—”
“I didn’t ask where you were from. Do you know anything about their government’s intentions for them?”
Anger flared in her own eyes. “I have reasonably reliable reports that the Rift Federation will follow the same policies as the Callas Republic regarding the few ships it has left in this fleet.”
“Damn.” There didn’t seem to be anything else to say. Geary felt pain in one hand and looked down to see that he had clenched one fist so hard it seemed locked into a single ball of muscle and bone. “How can the governments of the republic and the federation explain to their own people why their ships aren’t coming home?”
“First of all, Admiral,” she said, “there aren’t that many ships left. Before you assumed command, many of the republic and federation contingents had already been lost. Some more were lost in subsequent battles. It’s not a matter of bringing home huge numbers of men and women, but rather the survivors. And measured against the populations of their homes, those survivors are very small in number.”
His anger seemed to have burned out, replaced by a dull heat that brought no warmth. “Like the Alliance fleet, before the war. Most people didn’t have anyone closely related to them in the military back then.”
“Yes. So you see the logic. Those two governments will keep the threat of the warships and their crews far from home, and few will complain because few still have a personal stake in their absence. But the presence of those warships with you will serve as a basis for proud declarations of their government’s continued support for the great hero, Black Jack.”
“I’m still being used,” Geary said.
“Yes, you are. What are you going to do about it?”
“I could resign—”
Emotion blazed in her again. “Who else could better keep them alive, Admiral? Resign, and they’ll be in the hands of some fool like Admiral Otropa. Do you want them dead?”
“That’s completely unfair!”
“You still believe in ‘fair’?” Rione asked.
“Oddly enough, yes.” But she had spoken a truth. Their own people are casting them aside. Someone has to look out for them. Until I can think of somebody else, that someone has to be me. “I’ll do my job to the best of my ability.”
“You’ll still follow your orders?” Rione asked, her voice growing softer but more intense.
“Yes.” Geary bared his teeth at her. “As I see them. That means doing everything I legally can for the people under my command.”
“And the aliens?”
“You have your instructions, and I have mine. My orders require me to not only deal with short-term threats and problems, but also to handle them in ways that work in the long term. If the government or its emissaries have any problems with that, they can find someone else to use as their toy soldier.”
Rione slowly smiled though she still looked tired and somehow older. “Everyone underestimates you. Everyone but me.”
“And Tanya.”
“Oh, but she also worships you. That I won’t do.” Rione hauled herself to her feet. “I need some rest. Charban shouldn’t show up before tomorrow at the earliest. You may consider yourself once more politician-free for a while.”
“I’m sure your stateroom is ready.” He eyed her, wondering why he kept getting the impression that Rione was slightly different from when he had last seen her. “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine.” She smiled again, the gesture this time as empty of real feeling as the smile of a Syndic CEO, her eyes betraying nothing.
After she left, he stayed seated for a while, thinking through their conversation. Some of the things she had said, like alluding in front of Tanya to her role in getting him and Desjani together, had been uncharacteristically reckless. But Rione had also given the impression at times of playing a more subtle game than in the past, even when she seemed to be speaking candidly. Why did you really come back to this fleet, Victoria? How much are you an ally of mine, how much are you following the government’s line, and how much are you working to further your own goals, whatever those are?