“You didn’t do it,” his grandnephew repeated.
“Then why do you so obviously hate me?”
“It’s hard to break the habits of a lifetime.”
I want to hear about my brother, and what happened to his children, and whatever you could tell me about my other friends and relatives, but I can’t do that with someone who’s hated me all his life and isn’t the least bit reticent about showing me that hate. “Damn you.”
“You already did.”
Geary reached to break the connection, then fixed his grandnephew with an icy glare. “Do you feel capable of following my orders to the best of your ability?”
“Oh, yes. I can do that.”
“If I see you balking or in any way hazarding other ships by your actions, I’ll relieve you of your command in a heartbeat. Do you understand? I don’t care if you hate me.” Which was a lie, and he was sure the other man knew it was a lie, but it had to be said. “But I will not tolerate any actions that will imperil the ships and sailors of this fleet.”
The other Geary quirked a half-smile. “I assure you I will carry out my duties as if Black Jack Geary himself were my commander.”
Captain Geary stared again. “Tell me that’s not a common phrase.”
“It’s a common phrase.”
“I don’t know whether to curse you again or shoot myself.”
The smile grew. “You hate it, too, don’t you?”
“Of course I do.”
“Then perhaps, for Grandfather’s sake, I can wish you well. It’s hard, and even harder seeing you younger than me, but you’ll have to live with Black Jack Geary now, too.”
“You’re expecting me to fail, aren’t you?”
“Fail is a relative term. I’ve had to deal with pretty high standards in my life. You’re going to have to deal with much higher ones.”
Geary nodded, as much to himself as in answer to his old and bitter grandnephew. “And you’ll be there to watch me fail to live up to the standards of a demigod. Fair enough. I’ve got a job to do. So do you.”
“Yes, sir. Permission to get back to my work? Repulse was severely damaged in the battle, as I’m sure you know.”
No, I hadn’t been sure of that. Too much to learn too fast. “Very well, Commander.” Geary broke the connection, then sat gazing at the blank screen for a long moment before trying to stand again. His left leg trembled a bit, so Geary balled his hand into a fist and punched his thigh hard enough to possibly raise a bruise. Then he headed for the bridge of the Dauntless, grateful for even the minor distraction caused by the lingering pain in his leg.
The sailors who’d crowded the passageways of the Dauntless in the immediate aftermath of battle were partly gone now, most having reached the places they needed to be and devoted themselves to what needed to be done. The remainder made way for Geary, but something had changed in the way they regarded him. He could see their faces carrying not just the unwelcome awe and hope, but also growing confidence. Confidence in him or because of him, it didn’t matter which. He had to be their commander now, though, so he met those faces and tried to reflect the confidence back at them.
The semicircular bridge wasn’t a very large compartment, either, but then large compartments made no sense in spacecraft, especially warships. The captain’s seat, which normally dominated the space, had been moved to one side and another seat with a fleet commander’s flag embossed upon its back had been fastened to the deck beside the captain’s. Captain Desjani sat strapped into her seat, gazing intently at the virtual display screens floating before her, occasionally directing a command or question to one of the officers and enlisted occupying various watch-stations filling the half-arc of the compartment in front of her. Geary took a moment to absorb the scene, finding a welcome measure of comfort in watching the familiar rituals of ship command.
Then a watch-stander noticed him and gestured to Captain Desjani, who turned far enough to see Geary and offered a brief nod in greeting before she went back to monitoring repairs and preparations for further combat. Geary walked to the admiral’s seat a bit stiffly, pausing to run the fingers of one hand over the embossed flag for a moment. Somehow, it seemed to him, actually sitting in that seat would mark an irreversible step. At that point, he’d be actively commanding a fleet. It was a very bad time to recall that his previous largest command had been of a three-ship escort force.
Geary sat down and looked around, trying to accustom himself to this new role. “Captain Desjani, is Co-President Rione aboard yet?”
Desjani gave him a quick, carefully neutral look as she replied. “So I’ve been informed. Her shuttle docked several minutes ago.”
Geary checked the time. “She must’ve bought us some time. The Syndic deadline expired over ten minutes ago.”
“Perhaps she did.” Desjani leaned closer and lowered her voice. “How much does Rione know? About Dauntless?”
Geary tried not to flinch. “Too much.”
“Admiral Bloch may well’ve told her, you know.”
He hadn’t thought of that, but it seemed reasonable that Rione could have made the same demands on Bloch that she did on Geary, and already knew where the key had been located. So why ask me? Maybe to find out how honest I’d be with her. I guess I managed a passing grade. “At least she didn’t come to join us on the bridge.”
“I’m sure she’s still talking,” Desjani deadpanned.
Geary found himself grinning briefly despite everything, then sobered as he called up his displays. A situation display appeared, floating at his eye level, the Syndic ships holding steady in their formation, while speed and direction vectors showed a good portion of the Alliance ships shifting in various directions, the slower ships tending toward the jump point and others moving on different vectors to conceal the fleet’s intentions. So many ships in this fleet. If I try to focus too much on one area, I’ll lose the big picture. He moved his gaze toward the enemy formation and felt his guts tighten. And so many Syndic ships. What if they’re faster, or we’re slower, or somebody just does the wrong thing?
What if I’m that somebody?
He studied the controls, then tried to pull up data on the Alliance ships. Instead, personnel files for every officer in the fleet appeared. Muttering angrily, Geary tried another command. This time he got a readout of statistics for each class of ships. Not exactly what he’d wanted, but still useful. Now, if he only had a few more minutes to learn more about these ships, how they differed from those he’d known. He gestured to Captain Desjani. “I’m looking at specs for the ships, and I recognize most of the weapons.”
She gave a quick command to one of her subordinates, then nodded to Geary. “Yes. The basic weapon concepts haven’t changed in most cases, even though the weapon capabilities have become a lot better. We still use hell-lances as the primary weapon, but their charged particle ‘spears’ are faster, longer-ranged, carry more energy, and the launchers can recharge much quicker than in your last ship.”
“And you’re still using grapeshot.”
“Of course. It’s a simple and deadly weapon. The railguns can impart higher velocities to the rounds than in your day, and targeting system improvements let us use grapeshot at slightly greater ranges, but it’s still a fairly close-in weapon because once the patterns disperse too widely, the odds of overwhelming or significantly weakening enemy defenses are too small.”
“What’s a specter?”
“Basically a meaner version of the missiles you were used to.”
“Wraiths, you mean?”
“Yes. Specters are autonomous missiles like the old wraiths, but they’re more maneuverable, carry multiple warheads to give them a better chance of punching through shields and into an enemy’s hull, and have better survival chances against enemy active defenses.” She gestured outward. “Defenses
