Geary looked around. He couldn’t remember ever being in her stateroom before. Choosing a seat, he sat down facing her. “That’s not funny.”
“I didn’t think it was. He almost challenged me as well, or didn’t you notice?”
He stared at her. “That bit when he began to say something about how you should have been relieved of command?”
“Yeah. That bit,” Desjani spat out.
“Your crew defended your honor,” Geary pointed out.
“That’s because they don’t know how dishonorable my feelings were,” she said, bitterness growing in her words. “You could have had me for the asking. You knew it then, and if you’re honest with yourself, you’ll admit to that. Don’t pretend I’m this model of honor when I would have done anything you asked of me even though you were my superior officer.”
“You didn’t—Tanya, you believed I had a vital mission to carry out. Even our harshest critics could never point to anything you did—”
“I am my harshest critic, Admiral Geary!” She glowered at him. “Haven’t you figured that out yet?”
“I suppose I should have.”
Desjani stared into one corner of the room for a while, then shook her head. “I could have been her. You know I had relationships before you. It’s possible that one of them could have resulted in marriage, and at least one of the officers I could have married was captured by the Syndics. I could have spent years and years burnishing the memory of him and of our relationship, then found out when he was liberated just how much difference there was between those dreams and the reality of who he had been and who he now was. And be forced to explain and live with whatever I’d done while he was captive for what we all thought would be the rest of his life.”
He lowered his head, seeing the emotions in her and not wanting to see them. “You wouldn’t have—”
“I could have. You know that. Don’t patronize me. Only chance kept me from living what she’s stuck with right now.”
He looked up, fixing a baffled gaze on her. “That’s why you stepped between her and Benan? You wanted to protect her because you feel sorry for her?”
“I am the commanding officer of this ship! I will not tolerate breaches of discipline!” Desjani glared at him again. “That is why I intervened. Because it was my responsibility. Understand?”
He eyed her, knowing that this was a subject that Desjani would never discuss without holding a lot back. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Dammit, Jack! Stop pushing me!”
He had never liked the Black Jack nickname, had been horrified to discover that the Alliance government had made it part of him while building him up as the greatest hero the Alliance had ever known, but Desjani had taken to on rare occasions calling him just Jack as a personal nickname, and he had found he liked that. But for her to say it now spoke to how upset she was. “All right. I really am sorry. How long are you going to beat yourself up about your feelings that developed when I was your superior officer?”
She flipped one hand toward him. “The rest of this life. Part of the next one, probably. I’m sure by the life after that I’ll have plenty of other sins to occupy my sense of guilt.”
“So what do I do if Commander Benan tries to challenge me again?”
“I’d have the bastard shot, but that’s just me.” She frowned down at the deck. “Sorry. I know you’re asking for advice. Assuming that the harpy he’s married to hasn’t already gelded him over this, you should just shut him up. Put a fist in his gut if you have to. Keep him from finishing his challenge. Otherwise, you’ll face some ugly choices.”
“All right.” He stood up, knowing that eyes outside would be on her closed door. “Thank you again for ensuring that no incidents occurred on your ship.”
She gave him a suspicious look. “You’re welcome.”
He started to go, then paused, looking at a plaque on the bulkhead next to the entrance where Desjani would see it whenever she left her stateroom. Names were listed there, alongside dates and different stars. The long list had obviously been added to over the years. The earliest names were those of junior officers, the ranks increasing in the later years. “Who are these people?”
“Friends.”
He spotted the last name on the list. “Captain Jaylen Cresida.”
“Absent friends,” Desjani said.
He looked back at her. She had her eyes on the plaque, avoiding meeting his. “May the living stars shine on their memory,” Geary said, then left, closing the hatch gently behind him.
A very restless night, which finally found him walking the passageways again. That required some good acting, to be seen roaming the passageways in the middle of the night yet not appear nervous or worried to the crew members who worked that shift. What the hell am I going to do about Jane Geary? Tanya’s right. As much as I’ve managed to make this fleet more professional, the fact is they still place a priority on the attack, on being bold, getting to the enemy fast and fighting it out. And while Jane disobeyed orders, she did so for a daring attack that took out an enemy threat. In terms of getting the job done and protecting our troops on the ground while also minimizing the chances of Syndic civilian casualties, she did everything right.
Which leaves me very little room to hammer her. I can’t condemn initiative that effective, not without sending some wrong messages of my own. If I make obedience the only virtue that counts, I might be creating a culture that is at least as bad as the undisciplined mess I first found here. Do I want a fleet full of officers like Captain Vente, who apparently requires exactly what he’s supposed to do spelled out for him? I have to find grounds for relieving him from command of Invincible, but I don’t have any yet.
There were a lot fewer people out and about at that hour, and most of those were at duty stations, so when someone else turned a corner ahead of him, Geary instantly noticed her.
Rione.
She hesitated, then came on toward him until both stopped, facing each other.
“How are you?” Geary asked.
“I’ve been worse.”
Guilt stabbed at him. “Is there anything I can say or do?”
“I doubt it. It’s what you did, what we did, that led to this.” She looked away. “The fault is not yours. It wouldn’t have been even if you had dragged me into your bed because I was willing. In fact, I did the seducing, not you. And I have been candid with my husband about that. But it’s not just about your and my shared past.” Rione lowered her gaze, her expression somber. “Something’s changed in him. He’s darker, harder, more angry.”
“A lot of the former prisoners have serious issues to deal with,” Geary said.
“I know. His are worse. Your fleet medical personnel are worried.” She shook her head. “All he talks about is vengeance. Getting even with the Syndics, getting even with people back in the Callas Republic who he imagines once slighted him, and of course now getting even with you. But I am told that thus far his expressions of anger are within acceptable parameters.” She gave the last words an ironic and bitter twist.
“What about you?”
“Me.” Rione shrugged. “I don’t know. For the sake of the man he once was, I will continue trying to reach him. He is now under no illusions that I will tolerate behavior such as you saw today. But he has trouble accepting that I am not the woman that I once was, that I became a Senator and Co-President of the Callas Republic, that I have done many things while we were apart. In his mind, I was always at home, waiting for him, unchanging. How can I be angry with him for clinging to that vision to sustain him in the darkness of that labor camp? But how could he not know that I would not sit alone in a silent home, endlessly waiting, but instead go out to do what I could?”