Jack Campbell: Dauntless

“A vote ?” He stared at her, then around the table. No wonder Admiral Bloch had sometimes struck him as a politician running for office. “When the hell did this ‘custom’ begin?”

Desjani grimaced. “I’m not personally familiar—”

“Well, I don’t have time for a history lesson right now. And we don’t have time to debate what to do. I may not know what everything is like now, but one thing I do know is that waiting, paralyzed, for a snake to strike is the worst possible course of action. Indecision kills ships and fleets. We have to act and act decisively in the time we have. I will not conduct any votes while I am in command. I am open to suggestions and proposals. I want input from you. But I am in command. That’s what you want, isn’t it? You want Black Jack Geary to lead you out of this mess, don’t you? Well, then, by the living stars I will lead you, but I will do so in the best way I know how!”

He subsided, watching them, wondering if he’d pushed too far. A long moment passed. Then Commander Cresida leaned forward again. “I’ve got orders to follow. Orders from the fleet commander. I don’t have time for nonsense when there’s work to do on the Furious . Captain Geary?”

Geary gave her a grin. “By all means, Commander.”

Cresida vanished from her place at the table as she broke the connection. Then, as if her words and action had been a domino falling, all of the other officers hastily rose and bid farewells. Geary got the sense that, ironically, many of them saw further debate as a harder option than following Geary at this point.

Geary watched them vanish with an odd sense of longing. There ought to be handshakes and conversation as they all filed through the hatch, a few moments of personal interaction forced upon everyone by the need to move a lot of people in a big room through one small doorway. But not here, and not now. The figures of his subordinates simply popped out of existence, and the apparent great size of the room and its massive conference table dwindled as its virtual occupants vanished, until within moments it was an unremarkable compartment dominated by an unremarkable conference table.

However, aside from the real presence of Captain Desjani still standing nearby, two small clusters of officers remained. Geary frowned at them, noticing for the first time that their uniforms differed in small ways from that of the Alliance fleet. He concentrated on their identification. One set of officers belonged to the Rift Federation, while the other slightly larger group were part of the Callas Republic. He remembered both associations of planets. Neither the Rift Federation nor the Republic had contained many inhabited worlds in his time, and both had been neutral. Events had clearly drawn them into the war on the side of the Alliance, though. Geary nodded toward them, wondering just how much authority he could wield over these allies. “Yes?”

The Rift Federation officers looked toward the Republic officers, who made way for a woman in a civilian suit. Geary fought back a frown as he saw her. I didn’t say no one but ship commanders could attend, did I? I don’t think so. Who is this ? The identification tag next to her image read “C-P Rione.” What does that mean ?

The woman eyed Geary, her face impassive. “Are you aware that under the terms of our agreement, our ships may be withdrawn from Alliance control if competent authority should determine they are not being employed in the best interests of our home worlds?”

“No. I didn’t know that. I assume you’re the ‘competent authority’ in question?”

“Yes.” She inclined her head very slightly toward Geary. “I am Co-President Victoria Rione of the Callas Republic.”

Geary glanced at Captain Desjani, who shrugged apologetically, then back at Victoria Rione. “I’m honored to meet you, ma’am. But there’s a great deal to do—”

She held up one hand, palm out. “Please, Captain Geary. I must insist upon a private conference with you.”

“I’m sure there’ll be plenty of time—”

“ Before I commit our ships to your command.” She looked toward the Rift Federation officers. “The ships of the Rift Navy have agreed to follow my recommendations on the matter.”

Well, damn . Another glance at Desjani earned a shake of her head. He’d have to go through with this. “Where…?”

Desjani stepped away. “Here, Captain Geary. I’ll leave the room, and a virtual privacy shield will drop around you and the Co-President. When you’ve finished the private conference, say ‘end private conference end’ and you’ll both be able to interact with the other officers again if you want to.” She hastened out the hatch as if happy to be able to avoid this engagement at least.

Geary watched her go, composing his face as carefully as he could. Wishing he could return to the numbed state he’d endured since being awakened, he turned to face the politician, whose cold stare apparently hadn’t left Geary at any point. “What is it you want to talk about?”

“Trust.” Her voice wasn’t a single degree warmer than her expression. “Specifically, why I should entrust the surviving ships of the Republic to your command.”

Geary looked down, rubbing his forehead, then back at her. “I could point out that the only alternative is to entrust their fate to the Syndics, and we’ve recently seen how the Syndics do business.”

“They might deal differently with us, Captain.”

Then go get your precious rear end shot off by the Syndic special forces and see if I care! But he knew he’d need every ship he could, and part of him hated to think of leaving anyone behind, willingly or not. “I don’t think that’d be a good idea.”

“If so, explain why , Captain Geary.”

He took a deep breath and matched her glare. “Because the Syndics massacred Admiral Bloch and everyone with him when they tried to negotiate with all the ships we’ve got left backing them up. You’ll be negotiating with a fraction of that amount of backing. Do you think the Syndics will deal better within someone in a much weaker position?”

“I see.” She looked away at last and began pacing back and forth down one side of the room. “You don’t think the combined ships of the Republic and the Federation will impress the Syndics.”

“I don’t think the combined ships of the Republic, the Federation, and the Alliance have a snowball’s chance in hell of surviving against an all-out attack by the forces the Syndics have arrayed out there. We could hurt them, maybe badly, but not survive. And unless the Syndics have completely changed since I knew them last, they never deal fairly. The stronger party imposes whatever terms it thinks it can enforce.”

Rione stopped pacing, looking down at the deck, then back at him. “That’s right. You’ve thought this out from more than a purely combat viewpoint.”

Geary reached for the nearest seat and slumped into it. He hadn’t exerted himself this much, physically or emotionally, since his rescue, and the fleet physicians had clucked anxiously over him on just those counts after he’d been thawed out. No telling what results such a long hibernation might have on Geary’s physiology, they’d warned. I guess I get to field-test the question . “Yes, Madam Co-President. I did try to think it out.”

“Don’t patronize me. These ships are the life of my Republic. If they’re destroyed—”

“I want to get every ship that I can home.”

“Really? Instead of regrouping and trying to stage a brilliant counterattack resulting in a glorious victory? Isn’t that what you really want, Captain Geary?”

Geary just looked at her, not bothering to hide his weariness. “You seem to think you know me.”