Geary looked at Charban and Rione. “What are the government’s wishes?”
She looked back at him. “I have no instructions for disposition of freed prisoners.”
Charban spread his hands. “I have none, either.”
Geary switched to a private circuit with just those two on it with him. “The government ordered us to liberate this bunch. I was ordered to bring the fleet here. Why? What do they want with them? Why did we need to pick them up before proceeding into alien space?”
“I have no instructions,” Rione repeated, her expression unyielding.
That did it. “Then I consider this a matter that must be dealt with using my authority. Neither of you is an elected official. Under Alliance law, outside of Alliance territory, a fleet commander has authority over civilians who work for the government or anyone contracted to the government. You and General Charban are hereby assigned to act as primary liaisons with the freed prisoners. You two are their first points of contact, and you two will attempt to resolve any and all issues concerning them. I will be informed of any actions posing a threat to the fleet or violating regulations or Alliance law. Otherwise, the government wanted them, so the government can have them.”
He looked down the table again as Charban stared at Geary, aghast, and Rione reddened slightly but otherwise remained impassive. Keying his override, Geary spoke to all of the prisoners. “Thank you for your sacrifices and service to the Alliance. Governmental emissaries Rione and Charban will now be your primary points of contact on all matters. I look forward to your safe return to Alliance space.” By the living stars, do I look forward to that. “Thank you. To the honor of our ancestors.”
Cutting himself, Carabali, and Tulev out of the conference, so their presences disappeared as far as everyone else was concerned, Geary left the compartment.
He spent a while roaming the passageways, not wanting to be alone with his thoughts in his stateroom and too restless to sit anywhere. Stopping to talk with some sailors as they worked was comfortingly familiar, as if the century he had lost had never been. The equipment might be different, but sailors were always sailors.
Tanya ran him down at one point, walking beside him silently for a while before speaking. “Giving them to the emissaries was brilliant, but it’s not really a solution, you know.”
“I know. Some of them could still make major trouble.”
“Your grip on the fleet is much, much stronger than it was when Falco made his moves. Plus, you’ve been formally appointed to command instead of being an acting commander. And as far as we know, none of the current ship captains are working against you.”
“As far as we know,” Geary agreed.
He had no chance to say more as Rione appeared, coming down the same passageway with a clear intent to intercept them.
Rione came right up to them and stopped in their path. “Admiral, I need to speak with you.”
“You and General Charban can sort out how to—”
“It’s not about that.” She took a deep breath, seeming to fumble for words for a moment, something unusual enough that Desjani’s frown took on a different cast. “My—Commander Benan. He has been told . . . about events concerning you and me . . . in the past.”
From somewhere in Geary’s mind one question arose. “Are you in danger?”
“No! Not me.”
“Not you.” That left one other person.
But Rione shook her head. “I don’t think he would—”
Hearing a sudden hiss of breath from Desjani, Geary looked up to see Commander Benan walking steadily toward him.
NINE
DESJANI took a step forward, putting herself between Benan and both Geary and Rione. “Is there a problem, Commander?”
“I must speak with . . . the admiral.” Paol Benan’s face was deathly pale, his voice rough. “There is a matter of honor between us. I must—”
Desjani broke in, her voice sharp, at command tone and volume. “Commander Benan, are you aware of fleet regulations?”
Those fevered eyes turned on her. “I do not need to be lectured on regulations by—”
“Then you know what will happen if you continue on your current course,” Desjani said, her tone growing colder. “I will not have such a breach of discipline aboard my ship.”
“Aboard your ship? After what you and he did? You disgraced your position and should have been relieved of command and called to account for—” Other members of the crew had halted to watch the scene, and now a low growl arose from them, menacing enough to draw Paol Benan’s attention and choke off his words.
A chief petty officer stepped forward, speaking in a firm voice. “Sir, if there had been any grounds to question the honor of our captain, we would have been aware of it. She and the admiral never violated their duties or responsibilities.”
“Their honor is not stained,” an ensign added.
Whatever Benan might have replied was cut off by Victoria Rione, who pushed past Desjani to stare at him, then in a low, furious voice spoke to her husband. “We will talk. In private. Now.”
A flush spread across Benan’s pallor. “Anything you have to say—”
“If you still care about me at all, you will not proclaim in public anything regarding my honor or my actions,” Rione said in a voice that seemed to physically force Benan back.
That got through to him. Benan swallowed, then nodded, suddenly subdued. “I’m . . . I’m sorry, Vic.”
“Come with me. Please.” Rione faced not Geary, but Desjani. “If you will excuse us, Captain. My . . . thanks,” she got out in a strangled voice, then spun and led her husband away.
Desjani watched them go, then focused on her crew members, who were standing about, uncertain. “Thank you.”
They nodded or saluted or smiled and moved on as Desjani beckoned to Geary. “Let’s keep moving. That was close.”
“What was close? What was Benan doing that you interrupted?”
She stopped in midstep to stare at him. “You really don’t know what he was doing?” Desjani asked. “He was about to challenge you to an honor duel.”
Geary wasn’t sure that he had heard right. “A what?”
“An honor duel. To the death, usually.” They reached her stateroom, and she gestured him inside. “Hopefully, you can spend five minutes in here without anyone assuming we’re acting like rabbits in heat.” Desjani flopped down on a chair in an attitude very different from her usual rigid posture, her face troubled. “Honor duels started, I don’t know, thirty years ago maybe. Fleet officers calling each other out on matters of honor. We couldn’t beat the enemy so we started eating ourselves alive.” Her gaze locked on his eyes. “Matters of honor, like accusations of unfaithfulness.”
“That happened in the fleet?” Geary demanded.
“You know what we’re like even now! Honor is all that matters, displays of courage are all that matter.” Desjani made a disgusted face. “Challenged officers couldn’t back down without being accused of cowardice. We didn’t have enough officers as it was, and those we did have were killing each other in a frenzy of misguided zeal. Finally, fleet stepped in with very harsh regulations mandating serious penalties for anyone making a challenge. It took a little while to stick, and more than a few firing squads; but by the time I entered the fleet, honor duels were just stories told by the few who were still alive from those days. But the regulations are still on the books. We had to memorize them in officer training. If that idiot had finished stating his challenge to you, I would have been forced to have him arrested and locked in the brig, pending court-martial upon our return.” She gave him a speculative look. “Unless you decided on a summary execution in the field, which is permitted under the regulations.”