Jack Campbell: Courageous

The next target would be the mining facility they needed to capture intact. Given humanity’s apparently unceasing drive to build and preserve things, Geary couldn’t help ponder the irony that in human wars it always seemed far easier to destroy something than it was to try to take it in one piece.

“Enjoying yourself?”

Geary looked over from the display showing the battleships smashing the Syndic installation and saw that Victoria Rione had entered his stateroom unannounced. She could do that, since he’d set the room’s security features to allow her access, a legacy of the days when she’d been sharing his bed. He had thought about changing the settings again, given Rione’s distance, but had avoided the step.

Now he shrugged in response to her question. “It’s necessary.”

Rione gave him an enigmatic look and sat down opposite him, maintaining the distance she’d kept from Geary since Ilion. “‘Necessary’ is a matter of choice, John Geary. There’s no bright, clear line dividing what must be done from what we choose to do.”

Somehow he thought Rione was referring to something unspoken. Damned if he could figure out what that was, though. “I’m aware of that.”

“I think you usually are,” Rione conceded, an unusual step for her. Then she studied him for a moment before speaking again. “Usually. The commanding officers of the ships belonging to the Callas Republic and the Rift Federation have spoken to me about your latest fleet conference.”

Geary fought down a flash of irritation. “You don’t need to keep reminding me that those ships will follow your recommendations since you’re co-president of the Callas Republic.”

“No,” Rione replied sharply. “I don’t imagine Black Jack enjoys challenges to his authority. I understand you faced some more of that and dealt with them severely.”

“I need to maintain control of this fleet, Madam Co-President! I could’ve reacted much more strongly than I did, and you know it.”

Instead of hurling his anger back at him, Rione grimaced and sat back. “You could’ve. The important thing isn’t that I know that; it’s that you know it. You’re thinking about the things you could do, the things you could get away with, as Black Jack. Isn’t that so?”

Geary hesitated. He didn’t want to admit that, but Rione was the only person he could possibly be open with about it. “Yes. Those options are occurring to me.”

“They didn’t used to, did they?”

“No.”

“How long can you stop him, John Geary? Black Jack gets to do whatever he wants because he’s a legendary hero. Because he’s won dramatic victories in command of this fleet.”

Geary glared at her. “If I don’t win victories, this fleet dies.”

She nodded. “And if you do, your legend grows. Your power grows. Every new victory carries a hazard, because it would be so much easier for Black Jack. He wouldn’t have to convince others to do what he asks; he can just command them and punish those who disagree. He wouldn’t have to worry about rules or honor. He could make his own.”

Geary sank back as well, closing his eyes. “What do you suggest, Madam Co-President?”

“I don’t know. I wish I did. I fear for you. None of us are as much in control of ourselves as we’d like to think we are.” Geary’s eyes flew open, and he stared at her, startled by the admission of weakness. Rione was looking away, her face bleak for a moment; then she gathered her composure around her like a warship reinforcing its shields and gazed back at Geary with a cool expression. “What will you do if the mining facility doesn’t have the materials this fleet needs?”

Geary made an exasperated gesture. “Hit another one. We need that stuff. I hate being slowed down in this system, but we can’t enter jump without restocking the auxiliaries. Even after all of the fuel cells manufactured to date are distributed, the fleet will still average only about seventy percent fuel cell reserves, and that’s way too low for a fleet facing as long a journey home as we do.”

“Is that all that’s bothering you?”

“You mean besides you?” Geary asked bluntly.

She met his eyes steadily. “Yes.”

He’d have better luck interrogating Syndic prisoners than he would getting anything out of Victoria Rione that she didn’t want to reveal. For some reason, Geary felt his mouth curve in an ironic smile. “Yeah, there’s more.” He looked back at the other display he’d been studying when she came in.

“What?” Victoria Rione stood up, walking to sit beside him and lean in slightly to view the same display, her head near his, the soft scent of her conjuring up memories of being enfolded in her arms. It wasn’t a distraction that he particularly welcomed when she had avoided further physical contact for weeks without explanation. Not that she owed him her body, but surely Rione owed him a reason. Except that neither he nor she had given any promises, so it wasn’t like she had broken any. But it still felt like it to him.

Geary frowned, angry at himself and at her. “I’m worried about the condition of my ships.”

She gave him a slow look. “You’re actually upset more about the losses.” Rione’s tone was matter-of-fact. She, along with Captain Desjani and a few others, knew how little Geary was accustomed to the deaths of ships and their crews. A hundred years ago, the loss of a single ship had been a tragedy. In the bloodbaths that battles had degenerated into since then, a single ship was easily lost, only another name to be revived when a replacement ship was rushed into commission. But Geary’s feelings still remained where they had been a century ago for these people, and only several months ago for him, thanks to the survival sleep that had kept him unchanged during that span of time.

“Of course I’m upset about the losses,” Geary stated shortly, trying to rein in his temper.

“That’s to your credit.” Rione sat, her face turned toward the list of ships. “I still fear the day when Black Jack will be comfortable with such losses.”

“Black Jack isn’t running this fleet. I still am.” Geary glared at her, unhappy that the subject had been raised again. “Black Jack isn’t running me. I don’t deny he tempts me. It’d be a lot easier to just believe I’m this godlike hero whose every action is justified because the living stars will it and our ancestors bless it. But that’s total nonsense, and I know it.”

“Good. Then you should also know that our losses would have been far more severe under another commander. Do you need to hear me say that? I haven’t denied your skills at command since Sancere.”

He hadn’t realized it, but that was true. “Thanks. I wish that made a difference.”

“It should, John Geary.”

He shook his head. “Because it could’ve been worse? Fine. I can accept that intellectually, even if I can’t emotionally. But that’s not the point. We can’t sustain these losses.” Geary pointed at the readout of his ships and their status. “Look. Our battle cruisers that survived the Syndic ambush in their home system were reorganized into six divisions. Normally, a division should have six ships. These divisions were only four battle cruisers strong to begin with, and the Seventh Division only had three. Twenty-three battle cruisers survived after the ambush. Of those, we lost Repulse getting out of the Syndic home system.”

Geary had to pause then. Lost. A short, simple word. The epitaph for a ship, her crew, and her commanding officer, a man older than Geary who had been Geary’s grandnephew. He swallowed, knowing Rione was watching, then continued. “ Polaris and Vanguard were lost at Vidha, and then Invincible and Terrible at Ilion. Five out of twenty-three, and we’re still a long way from home. That’s not counting significant damage sustained by the ships in Tulev’s Second Battle Cruiser Division at Sancere, some of which still hasn’t been repaired.”