Geary forgot whatever he’d intended saying next as the possible implications of Desjani’s statement sunk in. “Discussing? What are the other ships’ captains discussing?”
“What to do, sir. They’re discussing and debating what to do following the death of Admiral Bloch and all of the other flag rank officers.”
“They’re what?” Inside Geary, ice cracked. “Weren’t they also informed I’d been placed in command of the fleet by Admiral Bloch?”
“Yes…sir.”
“Haven’t any of them contacted the flagship for instructions?”
Desjani’s face, recently radiant with hope, now picked up another emotion, the wariness of an experienced officer when his or her boss showed signs of cycling off of the nearest bulkhead. “Uh…no, sir. There’ve been no communications addressed to the flagship.”
“They’re debating what to do and they haven’t even contacted the flagship?” Geary couldn’t quite grasp the idea. Letting the custom of saluting fall by the wayside was one thing, but individual ship captains ignoring the presence of higher authority? What had happened to the Alliance fleet he’d known? Captain Desjani was eyeing him, waiting for the explosion she seemed certain was coming. Instead, he spoke with forced calm as the right words came from somewhere inside him, spooling out like an ancient recording brought to life. “Captain. Please contact the commanding officers of every ship. Inform them that the fleet commander requires their presence at a conference onboard the flagship.”
“We have less than a hour left before the Syndic deadline, Captain Geary.”
“I’m aware of that, Captain Desjani.” And I’m increasingly aware that I need to show these people I’m in command before this fleet falls apart, and I need to learn something about them before I seriously misjudge anything critical. I know too damn little about everything. “Admiral Bloch showed me his conference room. He said he could gather his captains for a virtual meeting there.”
“Yes, sir. The necessary data net is still functioning within the fleet.”
“Good. I want them ready at that conference in ten minutes, and to acknowledge that order individually within five minutes, and if any one of them tries to beg off, tell them attendance is mandatory.”
“Yes, sir.”
He remembered with a start of guilt that he’d been ordering around the captain of a ship on her own vessel without any special courtesy. He’d hated that kind of thing, once, when it’d been done to him. He needed to remember that now. “Thank you, Captain. Please meet me outside the flag conference room in…eight minutes.”
If his memory served, the conference room lay about five minutes’ walk from his stateroom. Geary took advantage of the three minutes that left him to call up the fleet disposition again, staring intently at the way the ships of the Alliance fleet were formed up and mentally tallying their degrees of damage. What had once been a dutiful intellectual exercise had become something he must grasp as well as he could within three minutes. He noticed something missing from the display, something he knew ought to be there and added it in, then he stared at the display a little longer, trying to understand why it didn’t make sense to him.
Once again through the passageways of the Dauntless, once again the faces of the crew harkening to him. Geary remembered his promise to Admiral Bloch and tried to look like he knew what he was doing. He’d been a junior officer once, so he’d learned that trick long ago. He wasn’t sure what else he might’ve learned that could really help now.
An Alliance Marine stood at rigid attention outside of the flag conference room and saluted as Geary approached. The gesture startled him for a moment, until he realized that if anyone would retain old traditions it would be the Marines.
Captain Desjani stepped forward. “Captain Geary, all ships’ commanding officers are present.”
He looked toward the conference room, seeming to be empty from this angle and outside of the viewing area. “All of them.”
“Yes, sir. Most of them seemed very happy to receive your order, sir,” Desjani added in a rush.
“Happy.” Of course they’d been happy. They hadn’t known what to do. But now they had him to turn to. Desjani, too, who seemed to have shed at least a decade of age since Geary had told her he’d exercise command. Waiting for the hero to save the day, Geary thought bitterly. But that’s unfair. After what they’ve been through… He thought about how he felt, the emptiness inside, and wondered what emptiness these others might be feeling with their own universe suddenly changed beyond expectation. He gave the Dauntless’s Captain a searching look, trying to see beneath the weariness she projected. “What shape are they in?”
She frowned as if uncertain of the question. “They’ve given us the latest status reports on damage to their ships, sir. You can access them-”
“I already have. I don’t mean their ships. You talked to them. I assume you know them. What shape are they in?”
Captain Desjani hesitated. “They’ve all seen the message from the Syndics, sir.”
“You already told me that. Now tell me your honest opinion of those ship commanders. Have they been beaten?”
“We’re not beaten, sir!” But the words seem to falter at the end, and Desjani’s eyes shifted toward the deck for a moment. “They’re…tired, sir. We all are. We thought this strike at the Syndic home system would finally tip the balance, finally bring about an end to the war. We’ve been fighting a very long time, sir. And we’ve gone from that hope to…to…”
“This.” Geary didn’t want to hear the plan described again. Admiral Bloch had explained it a score of times when talking to Geary. A bold blow, made possible by something called the hypernet, which hadn’t existed in Geary’s time, and by a Syndic traitor. An alleged Syndic traitor, anyway. “Am I right in assuming the ships we’re confronting represent the bulk of the Syndic fleet?”
“Yes, sir. Damn near the entire Syndic fleet.” Desjani’s voice wavered, and she visibly fought for control. “Waiting for us. Our leading elements didn’t stand a chance.”
“The main body fought its way clear.”
“Yes. But at considerable cost. Black-Excuse me. We can’t hope to defeat the Syndic forces out there with what we’ve got left.”
Geary frowned, only half-noticing the way Desjani had abruptly changed what she was saying. More important, at the moment, was what she’d actually said. No hope. According to the ancient legend of Pandora’s box, hope was supposed to be the one gift the box had contained amidst its ills. Something to keep people going when nothing else was left. But if these people had truly lost hope…Then he looked squarely at Captain Desjani and saw again what he didn’t want to see. Hope did still exist there, in eyes focused on him.
“Sir.” The Dauntless’s Captain spoke in an oddly stilted manner. “By your leave, sir. We need you, sir. They, we all, need something to believe in. Someone who can get us out of this.”
“I’m not a legend, Captain, or whatever you think I am.” There. He’d finally said it. “I’m a man. I can’t work miracles.”
“You’re ‘Black Jack’ Geary, sir! You fought one of the first battles of this war, against overwhelming odds.”
“And I lost, Captain.”
“No, sir!” Geary frowned again, startled by Desjani’s vehemence. “You held off the attack, you ensured every ship in that convoy got away! And then you still held the enemy, letting the other escorts escape. Held the Syndics off until you ordered your crew to save themselves while you remained behind and fought the enemy until your ship’s destruction. I learned that story in school, sir, just like every child in the Alliance!”
Geary stared at her. It wasn’t like that, Captain, he wanted to say out loud. I fought because I had to. Because that was what I’d taken an oath to do. Then we stayed because my ship’d been too badly damaged to run. I told the crew to evacuate, yes, but that was my duty, too, not heroism. Someone had to provide covering fire a little longer so the escape pods could get away, and that was my job.
