That sounds a lot like just being in the military, Geary thought.
“But in addition to that, there’s the fact that basic certainties are different. The war is over. That’s a major alteration in what they considered a fixed reality, and unlike those of us who were free to see events unfold recently, it is hitting them all at once. They have been told an intelligent species of aliens exists beyond human space, something totally unexpected. Then there’s you, yourself, that Black Jack, against all rational odds, did indeed return from the dead (figuratively speaking naturally) and achieve the seemingly impossible. To these former prisoners, it’s as if they have suddenly found themselves in a fantasy world rather than the universe they occupied before being captured.”
The fleet physician looked down, sighing once, before focusing back on Geary. “There’s one other factor unique to these prisoners. As you may have already been informed, many are fairly senior officers. Before being captured, they were used to either being in charge or being highly influential. Many of them believed that they would play an exceptional, personal role in the war because of their own abilities, that they were fated to do great things. There’s a medical term for this set of beliefs.”
Geary fought down his own sigh. “Geary Syndrome.”
“Yes! You’ve heard of it?” the doctor said in surprised tones, as if amazed that a nonphysician would have such knowledge.
“It’s been brought to my attention.”
“Then I’m sure you understand that they find it hard to deal with a situation where they lack authority in this fleet despite their rank and seniority. Many of them believed that somehow, despite being imprisoned, they would still save the Alliance and defeat the Syndics. Such beliefs helped sustain them. But you already won the war, leaving them without any clear sense of their own destinies.”
He didn’t need any further explanations to see how much trouble all of those disorientations could add up to. “I’m going to speak with them as a group. It’s already set up for ten minutes from now.”
“They’ll expect one-on-one meetings with you. I’ve already heard scores of slight variations on ‘I’m certain that I’ll be assuming an appropriate command position very quickly.’ More than one expect to assume command of this fleet.”
“I understand, but I don’t have time for individual meetings before we jump for Hasadan.” The inability to communicate between ships in jump space except in very brief forms was usually a hindrance, but in this situation, it was a blessing.
“Your meeting should be most interesting,” the doctor remarked. “May I sit in?”
“Certainly.” You’ll get to watch the original Geary talking to lots of Geary Syndrome sufferers. That ought to inspire a nice paper for your medical colleagues. “Just do so using the blind participant setting so no one else knows you’re watching and listening.”
A few minutes later, the conference room grew rapidly in size as the virtual presence of more than two hundred former prisoners flooded in, even those on Dauntless using the software since the actual size of the conference room was too small to accommodate all of them. Geary had intended to speak with them alone; but as he waited, the virtual presences of General Carabali, Captain Tulev, Rione, and General Charban appeared. “Captain Desjani indicated you wished me to attend,” Carabali explained, to which the other three nodded in agreement.
All right, Tanya. Maybe it’ll be good to have that backup. On a sudden suspicion, he checked the software and saw that Desjani herself was also monitoring the meeting in blind mode.
Geary swept his eyes around the table, already knowing that none of the freed prisoners was Michael Geary but unable to keep from looking for him one more time.
He stood up to speak, only to have one of the admirals shoot to his own feet. “It is necessary to discuss command issues as soon as—”
Geary had been through variations on this before, during the long retreat from the Syndic home star system. He already had the right control ready and silenced audio from that officer. “I am Admiral Geary,” he began, as if no one else had already spoken. “I am in command of this fleet.”
Rione made a small gesture, as if unable to stop herself, and Geary paused in reaction, only then realizing the pause gave his statement more force. Is she helping?
Geary went on, welcoming the freed prisoners and explaining the mission. “Unfortunately, even though you all deserve to be returned to Alliance space as soon as possible, we are deep within Syndic space. I can’t detach any of the assault transports to take you back, not unless I escort it with a strong force of warships, and given our lack of knowledge about the threats we will face inside alien space, I don’t feel comfortable diminishing my force at this point.
“Also, unfortunately, it’s impossible for me to speak individually with each of you. We’ll be jumping back to Hasadan soon, then using the Syndic hypernet system to proceed to Midway, so there will be little opportunity to communicate between ships.”
Finally, the question he didn’t want to ask. “Are there any questions?”
More than two hundred men and women started talking at once. The software automatically blocked all of their audio, highlighting each individual so Geary could choose who would be heard. “One at a time, please,” he said, more loudly than necessary since he didn’t actually have to shout everyone down. Resigning himself to the inevitable, he indicated the admiral who had first tried to speak. “You have a question?”
Standing up again, his face set, the officer looked around the table as he spoke rather than aiming his words at Geary. “Fleet procedures need to be followed regardless of circumstances. We are combat commanders, highly skilled and respected. Our first order of business must be to establish an agreed-upon fleet commander—”
This time the admiral was interrupted by another former prisoner, also an admiral, who pointed toward Geary. “Chelak, use your head for something besides making noise. That’s Black Jack. He’s our equal in rank, he’s in command, and every sailor and officer I’ve talked to in this fleet supports him.”
“My date of rank is much earlier than his! I earned respect for that, as did you all!” Chelak insisted.
“He’s earned some respect, too,” a female general replied. “I’m still trying to catch up on things that have happened since I was captured, but it’s obvious that none of us has enough of a grasp on the current situation to supplant someone who does.”
“That doesn’t mean we ignore honor and tradition,” a female admiral shot back.
“We’re supposed to give lessons in honor and tradition to Black Jack?”
“We don’t know that he’s really—”
“Read up on the last several months,” the second male admiral suggested.
A hundred officers started talking this time.
General Carabali stood, drawing their attention. “The fleet’s Marines will follow the orders of Admiral Geary.” She sat down again, the flat statement seeming to echo amid the sudden silence.
“Some of you may know me,” General Charban suggested. “I can assure you that the government and headquarters placed Admiral Geary firmly in command.”
“As if we care for what either one does,” someone called out.
Another outburst, hundreds of voices being shut off so that images of high-ranking officers yelled silently at each other.
Tulev looked at Geary, speaking on a private circuit. “This is unmanageable. You could spend weeks speaking with them and get nowhere.”
Carabali nodded. “Too many alphas in one fleet. You’d be best off packing them all on Haboob and disabling all the comm systems.”
“Seconded,” Desjani’s voice sounded in his ear.