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“I understand,” Lieutenant Yuon said.

“Remove all clothing?” Lieutenant Castries asked. “I have to be naked in here with him?”

“Only for a short time,” Dr. Nasr assured her.

“Ancestors help me. I really am in hell.”

“I hear suffering is good for the soul,” Yuon snapped at her.

“If that were true, I’d be a saint by now!”

“Lieutenant Castries!” Dr. Nasr broke in. “Do you understand?”

She visibly calmed herself before answering. “Yes, sir. I understand.”

“Commence stripping. The hatch will open in one minute, thirty seconds.”

Geary looked at Desjani. “Is there any medal we can give Lieutenants Castries and Yuon for enduring all of this?”

“I seriously doubt it. I just hope they can still work together after being given a little time to recover from this. I’d hate to break up a good watch team.”

A ship’s captain had to be practical, Geary reflected. “Doctor, how long is it until I can meet with the two lieutenants?”

“The decontamination procedure will take about half an hour. You are welcome to observe—”

“No, thank you, Doctor. They’ve been through enough. Those two don’t need higher authority watching as they undress and go through decontamination. Give me a call when they are ready,” Geary directed. But as he turned to leave, he found General Charban waiting. “Yes?”

“Can we talk, Admiral?” Charban asked.

“Certainly. Captain Desjani, I’m going to my stateroom. Please notify Envoy Rione that I need to talk with her.”

Charban did not say anything for the first minute of their walk toward Geary’s stateroom. When he finally spoke, he sounded oddly wistful. “Someone beat me to it.”

“What’s that?”

“You know what I mean, Admiral. I long ago had my fill of official stupidity.” Charban was looking straight ahead, but his eyes did not seem to see the passageway they were in, instead gazing upon some other images that lived in his memory. “I saw too many men and women die because of official stupidity. Too many die for no reason or bad reasons. I know you don’t think much of my judgment in that respect.”

“General,” Geary said slowly, “I didn’t grow up with the war. I didn’t spend my entire life at war. I don’t judge those who did.”

“But you do, and I don’t blame you for it.” Charban sighed heavily, his eyes growing haunted. “There was a moon in Semele Star System, the only thing worth living on in that entire star system. A red giant sun orbited by a few small rocks and one gas giant, and the moon orbited the gas giant. The Syndics had heavily fortified it. They had it, so we had to have it. I led my soldiers down onto that moon and we fought. The warships with us bombarded that moon until it was no longer worth having, but the Syndics kept fighting. I never understood that, Admiral. I never understood why the Syndics fought so hard against us when their government was so vile. But the former Syndics at Midway explained it to me. They were fighting to protect their homes. That was all. Not their government. Their homes. Their families. That’s what they believed.”

Charban came to a halt, still staring ahead of him. “We lost half of my division killing every Syndic on that moon. Two weeks after that, we left. Repositioned, in official jargon. I don’t know whether or not the Syndics once again garrisoned the moon. All I knew was that I had lost half of my division so that we could occupy a place that we then left. I couldn’t do it anymore. I put in my papers. I had served long enough. They had to grant me retirement. Why I survived and others did not, I don’t know. But I couldn’t do it anymore, Admiral. And I couldn’t believe in it anymore. I couldn’t believe that the people deciding strategy and plans had any idea what they were doing. I couldn’t believe that the men and women we were sending to their deaths were accomplishing anything by their sacrifices.”

“I understand,” Geary said. “Truly. I do understand.”

Charban blew out a long breath, then finally looked at Geary again. “Yes. I think you do. Did you leak all of those reports to the press?”

“No.”

“Would you have? Don’t answer. I think I know. But you must know this about me. I have no right to be here, to be alive, when I led so many to their deaths. I will spend what life is left to me trying to make a difference. I thought I could do that by entering politics. I don’t believe that anymore. But there’s a chance I can make a difference with the Dancers. A chance I can establish the beginnings of real understanding between our species and theirs. Would that be enough, Admiral?” Charban’s gaze held his, the eyes dark with some hidden emotion. “Would it justify my still being alive, when they are dead?”

“General,” Geary said, his voice soft, “I’m not wise enough to know the answer to that. I agree that when we first met I was skeptical of your own aversion to using force when I thought it necessary, but I do understand your reasons. What if the Dancers depart and don’t allow any humans to accompany them back to their own territory? Will you reconsider politics then?”

Charban took a moment to answer. “Do you think I should?”

“I think we need more leaders who think more about the consequences of their actions and their decisions. I don’t know that I would always agree with your decisions, but I do know you would take into account the long-term impact of them. And…” Geary had to pause to be sure he said the next thing right. “Those men and women you led, like the men and women I lead, died to defend their homes and families as well. I think their sacrifices deserve leaders who remember that, and who remember them.”

Charban stayed silent for a longer time, before finally nodding. “Perhaps you are right. I will think about it. But now I am keeping you from meeting with Envoy Rione, and with this ship rejoining the rest of the fleet soon, I’m sure you have a lot of other things to worry about as well.” He walked away, head bent in thought.

Rione was waiting at the hatch when Geary got to his stateroom, but she waved off his invitation to enter. “I need to catch a lift, Admiral.”

“You’re leaving?”

“Yes. There’s a ship coming out to pick me up.” A shadow crossed her expression, there and gone but unmistakable in its brief hint of worry and resolve. “I have found no clear information about my husband. I will have to hunt for the answers.”

“If anyone has failed to live up to their agreements—” Geary began.

She silenced him with another sharp gesture of one hand. “If that is the case, I will take any necessary actions, and the less you know of that perhaps the better. This you must know, though. The Alliance has reliable reports that the Syndicate Worlds government on Prime is consumed with internal fighting. There have been more coups, attempted coups, and countercoups. The attempt to stop your fleet from returning from Midway was apparently one of the few actions that the Syndic central government has recently been able to agree on and try to implement.”

“Why haven’t I seen those reports?” Geary demanded. “Lieutenant Iger told me we haven’t received any new material about the Syndic government.”

You haven’t. Because the reports are classified in compartments for which fleet units are not authorized access.” She shook her head in response to his immediate anger. “Don’t bother venting to me about it. You know I agree with you. Here’s the meat of the reporting. With the central Syndic government preoccupied with sticking knives in each other’s backs, large portions of what remains of technically Syndic-controlled territory are reverting to an almost feudal power structure. Strong CEOs with access to the necessary wealth and firepower are asserting control over star systems in their local regions. They’re exercising considerable autonomy in the absence of a firm presence from the central government.”