That earned him a full-scale frown. A shot aimed at the man’s ego apparently had no trouble penetrating the shields of companionable authority he liked to carry. “You should recognize me.”
Lieutenant Riva, apparently oblivious to the tension, spoke proudly. “This is Captain Falco, sir.”
“Captain Francesco Falco,” the man advised. “I assume you recognize the name?”
“Actually I heard it for the first time a few moments ago.” Geary didn’t know why he had said that, but the renewed frown his words conjured on Falco’s face was worth any fallout from it. “Pleased to meet you,” Geary added, trying to keep his tone neutral.
“From your age,” Falco stated, his expression stern now, “it’s obvious that I’m senior in date of rank.” He had clearly decided to set Geary straight on who was in charge. “Now, if you’ll show me to my stateroom, I’m sure there’s a lot to do. Set up a fleet conference as soon as possible.” He waited, frowning a third time as Geary stared back with no apparent emotion and no sign of moving. Geary had the clear impression that Falco wasn’t used to having to repeat orders. “Who are you, Captain?”
Desjani, who from her attitude had noticed the tension, spoke carefully. “Captain Falco, this is Captain Geary.”
“Geary? Some relation to the hero, I suppose.” Falco had a chiding expression now, like a father dealing with a recalcitrant child. “We all remain in debt to the example given us by Black Jack Geary, but that doesn’t mean—”
“No,” Geary interrupted. “I’m afraid you’re mistaken.” Falco frowned deeper this time. He seemed to frown a lot, at least whenever things weren’t happening exactly as he wished, and didn’t seem used to being interrupted, either. “I’m not related. My name is John Geary.”
Falco’s expression shifted, locking back into the mode of a comrade who happened to be in charge. His eyes went to Desjani, who nodded. “Captain Geary did not die at Grendel a century ago,” she advised as if she were reciting a report. “This fleet found his survival pod on the verge of failing, and managed to revive him.”
“Black Jack Geary?” Falco seemed rattled by the information, his carefully tailored expression falling apart into confusion.
Geary nodded. “My date of rank is, in fact, a bit earlier than yours,” Geary advised Falco dryly. “Nearly a century earlier, in fact. I thank you for your willingness to serve as the Alliance requires.” That was a stock phrase from Geary’s time, usually heard just before a particularly unpleasant assignment was handed out. Now it seemed a good way to rebuff Falco in a manner that appeared respectful. “As senior officer present, and as the officer assigned command by Admiral Bloch prior to his death, I will remain in command of this fleet.” Part of him was shocked. How many times had Geary wished he could pass command of this fleet to someone else? But not to this man. It wasn’t just because Falco had challenged his authority, Geary assured himself. Falco felt like someone who devoted more time to how he appeared to be doing than to actually doing well.
Geary could see Rione watching him, doubtless remembering the many times that Geary had sworn he would turn over command to someone else as soon as he could. But he knew what Rione thought of “heroes.” Surely she wouldn’t expect him to place the fate of this fleet in the hands of someone such as Falco seemed to be.
The news of who he was dealing with seemed to have knocked Captain Falco totally off balance. He was looking around as if confused. Geary gestured toward Desjani. “This is the commanding officer of Dauntless, Captain Tanya Desjani.”
Falco nodded quickly, his eyes flicking over to Desjani. Instantly, as if he had needed something to focus him again, Falco’s expression shifted back to that of someone in command who was nonetheless a comrade. “It’s always a pleasure to meet a brave officer of the Alliance fleet. It’s obvious that you run a tight ship, Captain Desjani.”
Desjani nodded back politely. “Thank you, Captain Falco.”
Geary pointed to Rione. “And Victoria Rione, co-president of the Callas Republic and a member of the Alliance senate.”
This time Falco turned, nodding slowly and politely to acknowledge the introduction. Rione, her own face rigidly formal, nodded back. Geary could tell from the glint in her eyes that Rione didn’t like Falco at all and wondered what she knew of him. It struck him that Falco had offered a fellow officer a greeting full of compliments, false compliments surely, since Falco had no basis yet for declaring Desjani brave and her ship tight, but acted noticeably cooler toward a senator. He was treating Rione like a rival, Geary realized. Someone who had to be dealt with rather than collected as an admiring subordinate.
Desjani, not being a fool, had apparently noticed as well. Geary could see the tightening around her eyes that indicated the commanding officer of the Dauntless wasn’t happy at the assumption that she could be won over by some flattery. For her part, Rione gave Falco a greeting noticeable for its lack of warmth. “Your reputation precedes you, Captain Falco.”
Geary was wondering exactly what that meant when out of the corner of his eye he noticed the other newly liberated Alliance prisoners. A slow ripple effect was running through them, with group after group turning to stare at him with those same expressions of hope and wonder that Lieutenant Riva had displayed. Geary, trying not to react negatively, noticed that Captain Falco had found something else to frown about. He doesn’t like them looking at me like that. But not for whatever reasons Rione is worried. No, if I judge Captain Fighting Falco properly, he’s jealous.
Great. As if I didn’t have enough problems. “Captain Falco, Lieutenant Riva,” Geary stated politely, “I need to attend to some business. Captain Desjani’s crew will see to your needs, I know.”
Falco, his carefully cultivated expressions crumbling in the face of new developments, seemed to have fallen back on an inexhaustible supply of frowns. “Business?”
“A conference,” Rione interceded smoothly. “Captain Geary and I must go. On behalf of the Alliance government,” she continued, speaking in a voice that carried through the compartment, “I welcome you all back to the fleet.”
A ragged cheer went up from the former prisoners as Rione led Geary out of the shuttle bay. Geary imagined he could feel Falco’s gaze boring into his back as they left, somehow certain that Falco saw him as a greater problem than he did Rione. But he didn’t want to talk about Falco anywhere they could be overheard, so he and Rione walked silently all the way to Geary’s stateroom. Not until they were inside did Rione turn to him with a scowl. “That man is a danger.”
“I thought I was a danger,” Geary noted sourly, flopping down into a seat.
“You are, because you’re intelligent. Captain Falco is a different kind of danger.”
“Needless to say, I don’t know anything about him. Are you saying he’s stupid?”
Rione made a dismissive gesture. “No. The longstanding thorn in your side Captain Numos is stupid. In fact, Numos is so dense that I’m surprised he doesn’t have his own event horizon. But Captain Falco is smart enough in his own way.”
Geary managed not to laugh at the all-too-accurate assessment of Numos. “Did you know Falco before he was captured?”
“Do you think I’m that old?” Rione asked, arching her eyebrows. “Captain Falco was captured about twenty years ago. I’ve been told of him by older politicians I’ve met since I became a member of the senate. Captain Falco was, at the time he was captured, a very ambitious and charismatic officer who managed to make bloodbaths look like grand victories. He would also make declarations that defeating the Syndics could only be done if we were willing to abandon the alleged inefficiencies of our democratic system in favor of a temporary autocratic government like that of the Syndics.”