The first reply came from Colonel Galland, about six and a half hours later. She looked tired, but her eyes were sharp. “Welcome to Adriana, Admiral. I see that your destroyers are already on the move. I appreciate your assistance in collecting the rest of the Syndic refugee ships. We’ve been overwhelmed by the number of ships and refugees, and my craft aren’t designed for this kind of situation. The fleet always handled things like this, usually intercepting it at Yokai. But the last fleet assets were apparently pulled out of Yokai a couple of months ago. There were two fleet destroyers still here at Adriana, but they were withdrawn three weeks ago. Since then, we’ve been scrambling to handle the refugee problem with what we have on hand.”
Galland smiled bitterly. “Half of my squadrons were supposed to be decommissioned by now, but I won a reprieve by getting the local government to raise hell with Adriana’s senators at Unity. I’m still expecting the cutbacks to take effect at some point, though, so unless you’re going to be stationed here for the long haul, we need to come up with a solution for what is going on at Batara. Once those squadrons are gone, my headquarters here will probably be downsized as well, and me with them. You might find this seat empty when you get back from Batara.”
She smiled without visible humor again. “If you don’t know General Sissons, fair warning. He’s a neutron star. No light, no warmth, just toxic radiation that destroys bodies and souls in his vicinity. He’ll want you to do everything, he’ll find reasons not to do anything himself, and he’ll take credit for everything that went right when it’s done. But he sucks up to the right people, so he’ll survive the reductions in force. He’s only got a few months left here before he jaunts off to ground forces headquarters.”
The sour smile shifted to grim resolve. “Admiral, I spent fifteen years fighting the Syndics and protecting Alliance star systems against them. My predecessor in this job died fending off an assault on this star system while your fleet was fighting its way back home from Prime. And now all that’s left is coping with refugees, getting ready to turn off the lights when the last person leaves this building, and turning in my uniform when I get downsized, too. Which is why I’m being frank with you. I’d rather go out having accomplished something than playing along in hopes of prolonging my career another year or so. There’s not much more I can do with my hands full just keeping the Syndic refugees from scattering into Alliance territory. Whatever else I can do, though, I will. To the honor of our ancestors, Galland, out.”
The reply from General Sissons came in nearly six hours after that. By checking local planetary time, Geary could see that his message had reached the planet during the night. Sissons hadn’t sent his reply until morning.
“This is General Sissons. Geary, I want full status updates on all of your ships and a briefing on your plan of action for returning the refugees to Batara using fleet assets only. My own forces have commitments that have stretched them to their limits. I see that you’ve already taken some limited actions to compensate for the lamentable lack of fleet support here in recent months. I don’t approve of unilateral decisions regarding the movements of your forces, which should be coordinated beforehand with my headquarters. For your future information, all communications with local governments, local law enforcement, local aerospace command, or anyone outside this star system, including fleet headquarters, must go through my headquarters using established channels in accordance with existing protocols. If you still have questions about my expectations and your orders, contact my chief of staff. Sissons, out.”
Geary’s first reaction when the message ended was to say a heartfelt prayer of thanks to the living stars that he wasn’t actually under the authority of General Sissons even though the general had done all he could to create the impression by his words that Geary would have to clear all of his actions and communications through him. Having finished the prayer, Geary mentally ran through a variety of entertaining responses he could send Sissons. But I can’t really tell him off like I want to. Anything I say to him has to appear reasonable and appropriate to others. I don’t want Sissons to goad me into making myself look bad.
He formulated a reply, imagining that first Tanya, then Victoria Rione were critiquing it. “General Sissons, this is the commander of Alliance fleet forces in Adriana Star System,” Geary began, keeping his tone bland. “In reply to your suggestions, I must inform you that I will abide by standard Alliance fleet communications protocols and communicate directly with anyone I have to contact. I am always open to your suggestions for the most effective employment of the fleet forces under my command, but of course authority for such actions rests with me. Since you have been dealing with the Syndic refugee problem here for some months, and my orders specify that ground forces will provide security for refugee return operations, I am interested in seeing as soon as possible the contingency plans and options your headquarters must have already developed for resolving the problem using your forces. Geary, out.”
He was still basking in the pleasure of having respectfully told Sissons where to stick his expectations when another message arrived, this one from the Adriana Star System government.
Most of the government seemed to have assembled to stand in the background as the elderly woman in the front spoke. Thanks to medical and genetic advances, age didn’t visibly appear in people anymore until they were getting near the ends of their lives, so Geary realized this woman must have been born in the first decades of the war, making her the closest thing to a contemporary he now had.
“Welcome, Admiral Geary,” she said with formal dignity. “The people of Adriana are honored beyond measure by your presence here and cannot express too strongly our gratitude for your assistance in dealing with our current troubles. We understand that you will be very busy with your labors, and will be contacting us regarding them, but if you have any time at all for social events we wanted you to know that the Adriana Academy for Children of the Armed Forces here contains a child who is descended from one of your crew on the Merlon. We know you would want to be aware of that. To the honor of our ancestors, President Astrida, out.”
Once again, he found himself staring at the empty place where a message had been playing out. They wanted him to physically visit their world, their city. Everyone wanted Black Jack to do that. With rare exceptions, he had been able to avoid doing so, begging off on the grounds of duty. He had seen firsthand on Kosatka how the citizens of the Alliance reacted to Black Jack, and the hero worship there, worship for someone he knew he was not, had unnerved him and strengthened his resolve to avoid similar situations.
However, a descendant of someone who had been on his heavy cruiser during the battle at Grendel? Just what was an Academy for Children of the Armed Forces? Some sort of college or university?
Geary looked up the term and read it twice before the meaning sank in. Orphanages established and funded by the Alliance government for those children who have lost both parents during military service in the war.
Both parents. And according to the ship’s database, there were enough children so afflicted that the Alliance had established dozens of those academies on worlds scattered throughout Alliance space. Captain Tulev… had he spent part of his childhood at such an academy after his home world was all but destroyed?
Geary himself had lost his entire living family to the war as well, though as an adult, when he literally slept through the rest of their lives while frozen in that escape pod. If he had been a child, it would have hurt so much more. He knew that. He didn’t want to go. He didn’t want to face those children. But…