Incansable (49 page)

“I didn’t
accuse
you.” Desjani made a visible effort to control her own anger. “I’m not trying to establish which of us was conceived with the bigger gonads. But in talking with you and observing you, I have seen subtle changes, which have increased since Cavalos.” She nodded abruptly toward the star display. “Ever since assuming command of this fleet, you’ve used a mix of cautious and bold actions to keep the enemy off-balance and win victories. I think you depend on your instincts for when to proceed boldly or cautiously, because neither I nor anyone else has been able to identify a pattern. But I can see a pattern now in you, and it tells me that you’re afraid.”

If anyone but Desjani were telling him this . . . If Rione were saying it, or one of his known opponents in the fleet . . . But it was Desjani. He’d had no firmer ally than her, no more reliable and capable supporter since assuming command of the fleet. She believed in him, originally because Desjani was one of those who thought the living stars themselves had sent him back to save the fleet and the Alliance, but now also because of what she said she’d seen in him. If he didn’t listen to Desjani, he’d be a fool. Geary took a couple of calming breaths. “What pattern?”

She seemed to have calmed as well, speaking determinedly but without heat. “I’ve tried to see things through your eyes as the fleet commander. In the Syndic home star system and afterward, the odds of this fleet getting home seemed very small. Risks were easier to take because every possible course of action held serious threats. Caution often didn’t make sense because boldness was necessary, and the obvious result of too much caution would have been the destruction of the fleet. But we’re close to home now.” She pointed at the representation of Dilawa, then swung her hand to indicate Alliance space. “So close. And now risks
seem
more dangerous, because we’ve made it this far, against all odds, and you’re looking at that and the small distance left to Alliance space and thinking how awful it would be to get the fleet this close and have it destroyed
now
because you made a serious error.”

“I have made serious errors,” Geary stated heavily. “Such as taking this fleet to Lakota—”

“Which was a calculated risk, and in the end it worked! And taking us to Cavalos was a risk because we might encounter the Syndics there, and we did meet them, and we beat them.” Desjani clenched one fist and kept her eyes fixed on his. “The losses we took at Lakota and Cavalos were the worst since you assumed command. That wasn’t your fault. Any other commander I know of would have lost a lot more ships in those battles, and would have lost the battles for that matter. Those losses weren’t in vain. We’ve hurt the Syndics badly, and we’re close to home.”

The words finally came out from deep inside him. “The ships we lost at Lakota and Cavalos won’t reach home, and neither will most of their crews.”

“They died so their comrades would make it! Don’t negate their sacrifices by becoming so fearful of more losses that you end up losing all! The time for risks is not past. I can understand how you fear failing now, after bringing the fleet this far, but we are still in enemy territory, and excess caution carries a great danger in itself. You can’t win unless you try to win, but you can lose by trying not to lose.”

She had a point. Had fear of failure after succeeding this far caused him to shy away from the sorts of risks he knew had to be taken to win, to survive? Geary gazed at the star display, trying to sort out his feelings and his thinking. “Do I follow my instincts or not?” he finally said, as much to himself as to Desjani.

“What are your instincts actually telling you?” she asked.

“The consequences of getting caught in a bad position again—”

“Those are your
fears
. What are you instincts saying?”

Geary met her eyes again, realizing she was right. “Heradao.”

“Then follow them,” Desjani urged.

He exhaled heavily, pointing to where the fleet’s status was displayed. “Dammit, Tanya, you know the state of the fleet as well as I do. We’ve only got twenty battleships left, even if we count in
Orion
, and
Orion
appears determined to see how long it can possibly take to repair battle damage. There are only sixteen battle cruisers remaining in the fleet, and of those,
Courageous
,
Incredible
,
Illustrious
, and
Brilliant
are barely combat-capable after the damage they sustained at Cavalos. The scout battleship division is down to one surviving ship, there are exactly forty-one specter missiles and fifteen mines left in the entire fleet, and every cruiser and destroyer in the fleet has at least one weapons system jury-rigged to keep functioning despite battle damage.
And
fuel-cell reserves on the fleet’s warships are down to an average of only fifty-two percent. That’s no way to go into a battle.”

Instead of answering immediately, Desjani reached over and highlighted the status of the four fleet auxiliaries. “I know you’ve already checked this.
Goblin
,
Jinn
,
Witch
, and
Titan
are working all out to manufacture what this fleet needs to keep going. But from the beginning their efforts haven’t been enough to gain ground on our logistics situation while we were facing constant threats inside Syndic territory. Even with all the risks we’ve taken to keep those auxiliaries supplied with the raw materials they need, they simply don’t have the manufacturing capacity to keep up with this fleet’s combat consumption of fuel cells and expendable weaponry. Not with all of the maneuvering that your tactics demand.”

He couldn’t deny that. “You’re right. I’ve already checked that.”

“So you already know that, until we get back to Alliance space, it’s not going to get better.” Desjani hammered home. “The fuel-cell situation is at the point where the auxiliaries have to devote everything they can to making new ones, meaning they can’t manufacture new missiles. They can give us new grapeshot, and stocks of that are rising to acceptable levels right now. But the missile and mine situation will not improve, and until we make it home, we’re going to keep using fuel cells faster than we can make them. There won’t be a better time to fight the Syndics than Heradao. We’re low on everything, and we do have accumulated battle damage, but they’ve taken terrible losses. Given time, the enemy will recover faster than we can inside their own territory.”

He looked at the star display again, his eyes going from Heradao across the light-years to Alliance space.

Desjani watched him for a few moments, then spoke again, her voice softer. “You’re also worried about what happens when the fleet gets home, aren’t you?”

Geary shifted his gaze, his eyes locking on her again, as Desjani continued.

“You’re worried about facing a place you knew as home a hundred years ago and all the changes since then.” Desjani nodded toward the region of Alliance space. “Most importantly, you’re much more worried about what most of this fleet expects you to do once we get home.”

Did he have no secrets from this woman? Had he ever actually discussed those things with her in those terms? Geary shook his head, though not in denial of her words. “I won’t do it, Tanya. I don’t care if most of the fleet, and most of the citizens of the Alliance for that matter, want the great, legendary Black Jack Geary to ride in on a white horse and toss out the elected leaders of the Alliance. I won’t destroy what makes the Alliance worth fighting for in the name of defending the Alliance. But a lot of people are expecting that; some of those people will probably try to force my hand, and I have no idea how to deal with that.”

“Yes, you do.” Desjani’s gaze held his. “You already know what you
won’t
do. You have a strategic goal, to preserve what makes the Alliance worth fighting for and to end this war. Consider ways to implement that strategy, and the tactics will follow.”

“It’s not that easy—”

“Not if you try to do it alone! Ask for advice! Is there no one you trust in this fleet except the politician?”

That made Geary look away for a moment. Just as Rione had long since stopped using Desjani’s name, Desjani herself had started referring to Co-President Rione only as “the politician.” On one level, the job description was true enough, but politicians were also despised by a fleet that, after a century of war, had come to blame them for the failure to achieve victory. “Do you want to know why I haven’t asked you for advice on that?” he asked.

“It might be a refreshing change of pace for you to tell me.”

Damn.
What had gotten into Desjani? Geary met her eyes once more. “Because I’m afraid you’ll agree to whatever I say, that you’ll break your own oath and follow me no matter what I do, because you believe that the living stars sent me to this fleet and are guiding me.”

Desjani nodded, her expression resolute. “Yes, I would follow you.” As Geary openly winced, she held out a forestalling hand. “Because I
know
you were sent to this fleet with a divine mission and that you do benefit from special guidance. Because of that, I also
know
that you will not do something that you have sworn not to do. I know you will not destroy the Alliance, and therefore I know I can follow you and help you,
if you will let me
. There are others who will help you figure out a course of action if you confide in us, and I’m sure you know who they are. Give us credit for loving the Alliance as much as you. I admit that at one time I could have been talked into accepting a military coup, but not now, not after the things of which you’ve reminded us all. Our own attempts to match Syndic brutality have only served to convince the Syndic populace of the need to keep fighting hard against us, and there wouldn’t be much point in winning if victory meant becoming the mirror image of our enemies. But like the problems with the Syndics, political problems within this fleet and at home will not get better if you defer dealing with them.”

A host of retorts and rebuttals came to Geary, but he knew every single one of them would either deny what he knew to be the truth or avoid the real issues. He sat staring at the stars once more as the fragments of what he knew and what Desjani had said fell into place inside his own mind, forming a picture he recognized as accurate, then he finally nodded. “Thank you. You’re right. About everything. I’ve been avoiding a decision. I was seeing it all, but I wouldn’t put it together because I was haunted by the thought of losing this fleet on the threshold of safety and because I was letting worries about what would happen when we got home further paralyze me.”

Desjani grinned, the tension having suddenly fled from her. “We’re going to Heradao?”

“Yes, Tanya, we’re going to Heradao. We’re going to get those Alliance prisoners of war, if they’re still there, and we’re going to defeat whatever force the Syndics might have gathered at Heradao. And I’m going to work on that strategy for when we reach Alliance space.”

“You can ask Captain Duellos, Captain Tulev—”

“And you,” Geary interrupted her list. “It seems you’re a very important part of my ‘special guidance.’ ” Desjani actually flushed slightly at the praise. “I wouldn’t have reached these decisions on my own, and I’ve been avoiding anyone who would make me confront that. I needed you to push me into it because you know me a lot better than I realized you did and because you’re a tough enough bitch to make me see what I was doing.”

She smiled wider. “This tough bitch has had to deal with a lot of difficult sons of bitches in her time. You’re one of the more reasonable ones. Sir.”

“Thank you.” He hesitated. “Tanya, none of the other senior officers in the fleet seems to have picked up on what was bothering me.”

“You never openly spoke of your growing caution. Knowing you well, from all the talks we’ve had, from all of the experiences we’ve described to each other, did make a difference. But from watching you I also knew that you were smart enough to realize how important advice from others can be. The fact that you were recently working to avoid such advice told me something, too.”

“I guess I need to thank my ancestors that you’re the captain of my flagship. Thank them again, I mean.”

One corner of Desjani’s mouth curled up in a half smile. “I’ll take that as a professional compliment. Now, by your leave, sir, I have other matters to attend to, and you need to formulate the orders for the fleet’s movement to Heradao.”

“Certainly, Captain Desjani.” He wrenched his eyes away from her smile and his mind away from wondering how her lips would feel against his. That wouldn’t happen, not while he was in command of the fleet, not while this war lasted. She’d earned his respect countless times, and even if he’d failed to maintain proper professional feelings toward her, he could still be sure to grant her that respect in both public and private. So Geary simply stood up and returned her salute.

But she paused just before leaving and looked back at him. “I hope you don’t take adversely anything I said, sir. I did feel obligated to speak honestly and forcefully.”

“Thank you, Captain Desjani. I hope you will continue to speak with as much honesty and force whenever you feel it is appropriate, and I will listen when you do so. I’ve been told that I am one of the more reasonable sons of bitches in the fleet.”

“That’s probably true, sir, but don’t let it go to your head.”

He managed not to laugh until the hatch had closed behind her.

THE fleet conference room on
Dauntless
wasn’t all that large, and the table and seats it boasted could have held no more than a dozen people at the most. But the virtual conferencing software made the apparent size of the table and the compartment expand to accommodate the numbers of people in any meeting, so that Geary stood at the head of an extremely long table with hundreds of officers seated around it. Aside from him, Captain Desjani, and Co-President Rione, none of the other individuals were actually physically present. As much as he disliked fleet conferences, Geary had to admit the software was an impressive piece of work, and the fact that most of those “present” weren’t actually here had kept anyone from going for anyone else’s throat during arguments in the past.