Geary had to bite back an immediate, instinctive denial. Instead, he shook his head and spoke with care once more. “I wouldn’t know how to do that. I have never believed in the legend. I do not believe that I am destined or chosen or whatever term you want to use. I’m just trying to do my job, my duty, the best that I can.”
“Does what you believe matter?” Sakai asked in a low voice. “Belief is a very powerful force, Admiral, for good or for ill. Belief can destroy that which appears unshakable, and belief can accomplish what knowledge tells us must be impossible. I cannot save the Alliance, Admiral. If I believed that I could, I would be one with the fools who think that they alone know wisdom, that they alone know what must be right. But people look at you, Admiral, and do not see a fallible human. They see Black Jack. Do not deny it. I accompanied your fleet on the final campaign against the Syndics so I could see you and so I could see how others acted toward you. Even those who hate you, who wish to see you fail, see Black Jack. And Black Jack can do those things that those who believe in him think he can do. Perhaps even things I believe to be impossible.”
“Or that belief in me could be the last straw that breaks the back of the Alliance,” Geary said, not trying to hide his bitterness.
“Yes.” Sakai inclined his head slightly toward Geary. “An interesting dilemma.”
“Can you tell me whether you will help me hold things together?” Geary demanded. “Not as some mythical Black Jack but just doing what I can. Will you help?”
“Why do you ask me this?” Sakai said, this time smiling more openly. “I have already told you that I lie. It is my profession. It is what my people demand of me. You could not believe whatever answer I gave you.”
Geary sat back, watching Sakai. From somewhere, words came to him. “One way to avoid lying is to avoid actually answering the question, isn’t it? Give an evasive response, and let the listener read whatever meaning they want into it.”
Sakai’s smile vanished, replaced by an intrigued expression. “You have spent much time around Envoy Rione. I should have guessed how much you would learn from her. And so I will finally answer that question you asked. What did I expect Envoy Rione to do aboard your flagship? I believed that Envoy Rione would find creative ways to forestall any plans aimed at you. That is why I supported placing her on your ship. This in turn gave me access to some other… consultations to which I might otherwise have been barred.”
“Senator, that sounds suspiciously like you were trying to help me,” Geary said.
“Not you. The Alliance. Because whatever you do, however mistaken or correct your actions based on your prewar sense of right and wrong, you are not a fool. Unlike some of those pursuing other means to save the Alliance.” Sakai held up a single forefinger to forestall Geary from interrupting. “Admiral, you have been told that construction of new warships has been halted. In fact, a new fleet of sufficient strength to rival your own is being built, and I use the term ‘rival your own’ because that is a great part of its intended purpose.”
Geary did his best to feign surprise followed by outrage. “Why would the government mislead me like that?” He could think of any number of reasons but wanted to see which ones Sakai offered up.
“The government is not misleading you. Certain powerful individuals within the government are misleading you. Others do not ask questions whose answers might prove too difficult. Others delude themselves that destructive means will serve creative ends. Here is what you must know. A decision has been made to give command of this fleet to an officer who will, depending upon whom you ask, safeguard the Alliance, or actively counter the threat posed by a certain hero to whom the existing fleet is extremely loyal, or act as a passive counterbalance to the threat posed to the Alliance by you.” Sakai paused again. “The reasons all come down to one broad strategy. A majority of the grand council have been convinced that the way to fight fire is with fire. If they fear an ambitious high-ranking military officer with a fleet firmly at his back, the solution is to create another.”
“That’s insane. Are they trying to create a civil war?”
“They believe,” Sakai said, “that they are saving the Alliance. That saving the Alliance requires creating the means to destroy it and giving that means to a man whose desires will destroy it. You said it is insane? You are right. They see only what they wish to see.”
Geary stood up and paced slowly back and forth before Sakai, unable to sit still any longer. “If the government persists in actions that are likely to destroy the Alliance, what the hell can I do to save it?”
“I do not know. Perhaps nothing. Perhaps your best efforts will only precipitate the civil war you spoke of.”
“Then why are you even helping me this much by telling me about what the government is doing and why?” Geary demanded.
Sakai let out a slow sigh. “Because, Admiral, your most powerful weapon, the belief of others in you, might enable you to save an Alliance I believe to be doomed. Might, I say. It is something. Something small. Yet preferable to surrendering to despair and watching others oh-so-cleverly and oh-so-cunningly bring about the loss of all we and they hold dear.”
“Who is getting the command of that new fleet?”
“Admiral Bloch.”
That answer had come directly, with no evasion or delay. Why? “Even though the grand council must know that Bloch intended to stage a military coup if his attack on the Syndic home star system at Prime had succeeded?”
“Even though.” Sakai looked off into the distance again as if he could see something there that was invisible to Geary. “I wonder why I still try. Then I think of my children and their children. What might happen to them if the Alliance falls apart? I think of my ancestors. When the day comes that I face them, what will I say I had done with the life granted me? How will they judge me and my actions?” He shrugged. “My wish is to be able to face them and say I did not quit. Perhaps my efforts are doomed to failure, but that will not be because I ceased trying.”
“You don’t really believe that it is hopeless,” Geary suggested.
Senator Sakai stood up to leave, his expression unreadable once more. “Say rather, Admiral, that I am afraid to admit that it is hopeless.”
After Sakai had left, Geary found his gaze returning to the link he had opened about returning to Sol Star System. Anachronism, am I? Fine. Traditions hold us together, but a lot of those traditions faded under the pressure of the war. Maybe it’s time for this anachronistic admiral to introduce a few more anachronisms.
“We’re going to cross the line,” Geary said.
Tanya, called to his stateroom, gave him a puzzled look. “What line?”
“The line.”
“That helps. Not.”
“The boundary of Sol Star System,” Geary explained patiently.
“Star systems don’t have boundaries.” She tapped in some queries, then waited for the results to pop up. “Oh. You mean the heliosphere. The region around the star that defines the boundaries of a star system. I never heard of that before.”
That news should have been astounding coming from a battle cruiser commander whose career had taken her across hundreds of light-years and scores of stars. But it wasn’t. “That’s because the heliosphere of any star is well beyond the places where jump points are found or hypernet gates are constructed,” Geary explained. “The heliosphere of any star is well out in the dark between stars, in the places where human ships never go. Or rather, where they long since stopped going.”