EIGHT

HIS communications alert sounded and Geary jerked awake, rolling to slap the control and remembering only at the last instant to keep the video off so no one would see he wasn’t alone. “Geary here.”

“Sir, Captain Desjani sends her respects, and wishes to inform you that Colonel Carabali is expressing concern regarding the movements of Alliance fleet Formation Bravo.”

“Concern?” Every time to date that the Marine had been worried she had been proven justified. “I’ll talk to her in a minute. Ask the colonel to hold on.”

“Yes, sir.”

Geary sat up carefully, trying not to make noise.

“Did you actually think that didn’t wake me up?” Victoria Rione asked.

“Sorry.”

“I’ll have to get used to it, I suppose.”

Geary paused in his movements and looked over at her, seeing her lying on her back and gazing at him as calmly as if they had woken up together like this a thousand times before. “You want this to be long-term?”

Rione raised an eyebrow at him. “Are you saying you don’t?”

“No. I’m not saying that. I’d like to try it. I think long-term could make me…”

“Happy? It’s all right to be happy, John Geary. It took me a long time to realize that after my husband died, but in time I did.”

“How long did it take?” he asked quietly.

“Until tonight. Now go speak with your colonel and for the living stars’ sake make sure you’re dressed before you do.”

“I’m sure the colonel has seen worse,” Geary noted. But he hastily pulled on his uniform as he went to the desk in his stateroom and activated the communications terminal there, trying to shake his mind clear of what had happened with Rione earlier that evening so he could concentrate on his job. “What’s bothering you, Colonel?”

Carabali bore signs of fatigue, which made Geary feel guilty about his own rest. The Marine commander pointed at a display next to her. “Sir, your ships are moving close to the fourth world. That’s not my business normally, but it’s my job to warn fleet officers about planetary threats.”

“Planetary threats? We bombed the hell out of that world. There shouldn’t be any functioning antiorbital weapons left.”

“Shouldn’t be,” Carabali agreed. “That’s not the same as aren’t. Sir, we hit everything we could see from a few light-hours out. But that’s a densely populated and heavily built-up world. It’s not as easy to see things when there’s so many other buildings and installations around. On top of that, the impacts stirred up a lot of dust and water vapor into the upper atmosphere, so we can’t see the surface worth a damn right now. We don’t know what we haven’t seen, and we don’t know what’s down there now.”

Geary studied the display, rubbing his chin. “Good point,” he conceded. Fighting in space makes it too easy to assume you can see any threat long before it reaches you. That won’t apply in this case. I should have realized that. The victories over the Syndics so far in Sancere Star System, and surviving the collapse of the hypernet gate made me too confident. I haven’t been paranoid enough about what else might be lurking in this system. “Can they target us through that stuff in the atmosphere if they do have surviving weaponry?”

“We definitely didn’t get every possible air-and spaceport, sir. All they have to do is get something high enough to relay a view down to the surface. It could be an unmanned drone that would be very hard to spot.”

Geary called up the exploitation plan, checking to see what Formation Bravo was getting. “Our ships are heading for the Syndic orbital shipyards, what’s left of them anyway, and some big orbiting civilian installations. We need what’s on those, Colonel, especially the food and raw materials stockpiles.”

“Sir, I don’t like it.”

“Can you give me a plan, Colonel? Something that would let our ships loot those locations and keep the Syndics from targeting us with any weapons surviving on the surface?”

Carabali frowned, looking down as she thought. “We’ve got scout ships we can send into the atmosphere. Recce drones. But there’s no telling how low they’d have to go to get a decent look around, and the lower they are, the less area they can monitor or search.”

“How many of those drones are with Formation Bravo?”

The colonel frowned again, checking something outside Geary’s view. “Ten, sir. All operational. But if we send them down into that, there’s no guarantee they’re coming back up, and as far as I know, your auxiliaries can’t make new ones for us.”

“They can’t make me new ships, either.” Geary took a moment to think. “I’ll talk to the commander of Formation Bravo. That’s Captain Duellos. We’ll use the recce drones to check beneath the junk in the atmosphere, and we’ll keep ships out of low orbits. I’ll see what else I can think of and get back with you soon.”

“Thank you, sir.” Colonel Carabali saluted, and her image vanished.

Geary sighed heavily and stood, turning to say goodbye to Rione. He discovered her near the bunk, standing leaning against the bulkhead, still naked, watching him. “No rest for the weary?” she asked.

“I’ve gotten more rest than a lot of people,” Geary muttered, looking away.

“What’s the matter, Captain Geary?” Rione asked, her voice sounding mildly amused.

“I’m trying to concentrate on my command responsibilities. You’re a little distracting.”

“Just a little? I’ll see you on the bridge in a while.”

“Okay.” Geary paused before leaving, then set his stateroom access to allow Rione entrance at any time, knowing she was watching. On the way up to the bridge, he felt an odd sense of disquiet. Rione had been extremely passionate during their lovemaking but now once again held that attitude of cool detachment toward him, even while standing before him naked. Geary couldn’t help thinking of a cat, one that had taken the affection it desired but reserved the right to walk out the door at any time with no regrets. He had never seriously considered the possibility that Victoria Rione would want a relationship with him and so had never thought about what that might mean. She had said she liked him, but the word love certainly hadn’t come up. Was Rione only using him for her own comfort? Or, worse, was she positioning herself close to him for her own political advantage, either against the Black Jack Geary she feared or other politicians back in the Alliance?

What would it be worth for an ambitious politician to be the consort of the legendary hero who had miraculously brought the Alliance fleet home to safety?

How can I think that? Rione’s never shown any sign of that kind of ambition.

But then there’s a lot of things she’s never shown. Not to me, anyway. Like wanting to bed me. Say she’s still devoted to saving the Alliance from Black Jack Geary. How hard would it be to rationalize gaining power for herself by close association with me so she would be better able to control whatever I did? How do I know that beneath that dedicated exterior there isn’t a very ambitious woman ready and willing to use me to further her own career?

Ancestors help me. For all I know Rione is totally sincere. Why do I have to try to second-guess this? Why do I have to be suspicious of her?

Because I’m so damned powerful, and if I succeed in getting this fleet home, I’ll be a lot more powerful. She’s the one who made me realize that in the first place.

On the other hand, if she is using me, I might as well enjoy it while it lasts. And if I’m just a means to help her attain rank in the Alliance governing council, there’s worse fates. I’ve no reason to think she’s unethical or power-hungry.

Right, Geary. You’re such a good judge of women that she had to practically drag you into bed before you got the hint.

Not for the first time, Geary found himself baffled by what Rione was thinking and looked forward to the relative simplicity of dealing with an enemy he knew was just trying to kill him.

CAPTAIN Desjani yawned and nodded in greeting as Geary entered the bridge of the Dauntless. “You spoke with Colonel Carabali?”

“Yeah,” Geary replied, taking his seat and calling up the display. He studied it for a moment. He had been either sleeping or otherwise engaged with Co-President Rione for about five hours. Against the scale of a star system, not a lot changed in that amount of time. But Formation Bravo was bearing down steadily on the fourth world and the supplies it offered. Courageous was just over thirty light-minutes away from Dauntless now, so any conversation with Captain Duellos would be a drawn-out affair.

Geary organized his thoughts, then keyed the personal command circuit. “Captain Duellos, this is Captain Geary. There’s some concern here about the dangers posed by bringing your ships close to a heavily built-up world that might still have some functioning antiorbital systems under that dust blocking our views of the surface. Please deploy the Marine atmospheric recce drones on your ships to search beneath the high dust layer for any signs of a threat. Ships should be kept out of low orbit. Maintain a tight scan of the upper atmosphere for any signs of Syndic drones or other reconnaissance activity that might provide targeting information to weapons on the surface. Please employ whatever other safety measures you feel are prudent and keep me advised.” Should I add anything else? No. Duellos knows what he’s doing. He doesn’t need me preaching to the choir about the need to be careful and avoid losing ships. “Geary, out.”

He slumped back, rubbing his forehead. I forgot when I broke up the fleet that it would mean I’d lose real-time communications with most of my ships. At least I don’t need to worry about Numos messing something up. Unfortunately, that small comforting thought reminded Geary of the almost forty ships that had followed Falco and might already have been destroyed.

Desjani shook her head. “With your leave, Captain Geary, I’m going to go below and grab a couple of hours of real sleep. I’m wasting my time up here right now.”

Geary automatically checked the display again. Formation Delta, once again formed around Dauntless, was close to a day away from the facilities orbiting the third planet, which were its objective. There wasn’t a trace of Syndic shipping under way in the system, except for the battered Force Alpha, which remained out between the orbits of the seventh and eighth planets, maintaining a very large distance between itself and the closest Alliance ships in Task Force Furious. Geary wondered how long it would be before the Syndic commander realized that it wouldn’t be a career-enhancing move to survive with the rest of his or her flotilla intact while the Alliance leisurely trashed the star system. “Why not make it more than a couple of hours? I’ll stay up here for a while.”

Desjani grinned. “Thanks, but even with you on the bridge, I’m still the captain of this ship.”

“How about if I order you to get at least four hours’ rest?”

“I guess I can’t refuse a direct order,” Desjani admitted with clear reluctance. She stood, stretching again. “You seem to be feeling better, sir, if you don’t mind my saying so.”

“Rest helps.” Co-President Rione chose that moment to arrive on the bridge. She nodded coolly to Desjani and then inclined her head in another wordless greeting to Geary. He nodded back, more pleasantly than he had been greeting Rione for some weeks. As Geary turned back, he caught Desjani’s eyebrow raised as she looked from Geary to Rione. Realizing Geary was watching, Desjani rapidly hauled down the eyebrow, assuming a noncommittal look. Desjani can tell? How could it be that obvious? Geary wondered. We didn’t even say anything.

Captain Desjani faced her senior watch-stander. “I’ll be in my cabin. Resting.” On the last word, she gave a side-long glance to Geary and one corner of her mouth twitched as an effort to suppress a smile didn’t quite succeed. As Desjani left, she paused by Rione. “It’s a pleasure to have you aboard, Madam Co-President.” As far as Geary could remember, Desjani had never offered that kind of sentiment to Rione before.

Geary felt a headache starting again, even though Rione looked amused as Desjani left. “How?” he asked Rione in a very low voice.

“I’m afraid that information is on a need-to-know basis,” she informed Geary in a matter-of-fact voice.

“In other words, it’s a woman thing.”

“If you care to think of it that way.”

He leaned back, indicating the display. “What do you think? Colonel Carabali was concerned about Formation Bravo getting close to the fourth planet. Does anything else set off alarms for you?”

“I’ll take a look. Surely you don’t think I have the skill to make a military assessment?” Rione asked.

“No. But sometimes someone with military training can overlook even something obvious to a layperson. I notice you don’t seem all that worried. Whenever we’re in Syndic systems I’m used to having you toss out warnings about everything that can go wrong.”

“And you like that?”

“Well, I’m used to it, anyway. Besides, you’ve often been right.”

Rione gave him a very small smile, then nodded and bent to study the display before her seat. Geary checked the time. Twenty more minutes before Duellos would even get his message. Probably an hour, at least, before an answer came.

Who could have guessed war could be boring? Right up until it starting scaring the bloody hell out of you.

DUELLOS rogered up for Geary’s instructions, adding that he would keep his ships positioned with Syndic orbital facilities between them and the surface of the planet as much as possible. Presumably even the Syndics wouldn’t deliberately shoot through their own installations.

The formation of which Dauntless was a part coasted past the orbit of the fourth world, heading farther inward toward the third world. At their closest point, Geary was within four light minutes of Formation Bravo. On his display, small images reflected relayed data from the Marine recce drones over the fourth world, their transmissions occasionally fuzzed by static from the dust filling the upper atmosphere of the planet.

On visual, the images revealed what seemed a pleasant enough world, with large cities, abundant towns, and big areas of wilderness marred by occasional scars of mining or other resource extraction. It seemed a nearly deserted world from the images, though, with streets and roads almost empty of people and vehicles. The few vehicles sighted were clearly official, often traveling in convoys. The rest of the population was apparently hunkered down, though hiding in buildings or cellars or even shelters wouldn’t offer any protection if the Alliance decided to bombard the planet in earnest.

Here and there, craters marked the sites of impacts from the kinetic bombardment. All of the images from the parts of the planet receiving sunlight had a grayish, washed-out quality, as if seen on a very cloudy day, because of all of the dust in the upper atmosphere. The night-side images were pitch-black, the dust blocking any starlight from reaching the surface.

By tapping controls Geary could make the images shift from visual to infrared, to radar of various kinds including ground-penetrating, to scans of the electromagnetic spectrum. He could see other functions available but left them alone, afraid that he would inadvertently order one of the drones to do something. Occasionally a drone would report coming under fire as the Syndics tried to shoot it down, but they made difficult targets at the best of times, and with the dust cover in the upper atmosphere to duck into for extra cover when necessary, the drones were even harder to hit.

“Captain Geary, this is Captain Duellos. Whatever remains of the surface defenses is trying to get a picture of us.” Accompanying the message was a link that showed Syndic drones popping up above the dust for brief moments to get a good look at the situation above the planet before dropping down again and being lost to the Alliance sensors before they could be targeted themselves. “There’s no obvious pattern. If they’re trying to get targeting data for something, we can’t tell where it is. I’ve ordered all of the ships in my formation to institute random changes in position and track.”

Duellos wouldn’t hear his answer for over four minutes, but Geary responded. “Thanks. Let’s hope-” He broke off as his display sounded an alert.

“Weapons fire from the surface of the fourth world,” a Dauntless watch-stander reported. “Particle cannon. It looks like an entire battery.”

Four minutes ago. “Can we tell if they got any hits?”

There was a pause that seemed to last far too long before the watch-stander reported back. “Near misses on Falchion and Renown. No hits.”

Desjani, back on the bridge and looking considerably more rested, shook her head contemptuously. “They’re practically firing blind, and now we know there’s ground defenses still active.”

“Duellos ordered random evasive moves just before those cannon fired,” Geary pointed out. “If he hadn’t done that, the Syndics might have gotten hits.” Unlike the ship-based weapons, the planetary particle cannons could be much larger and draw on tremendous power supplies. Even a single hit from one of them could slash through shields and rip into a ship.

Even as Geary spoke, Dauntless’s sensors reported another volley fired. He itched to order counteractions, having to remind himself that this had all happened minutes ago and Duellos had surely already done something. “That should be enough to determine the location of the cannon on the surface of the planet,” Desjani noted.

Sure enough, a half-dozen kinetic bombardment rounds shot from Duellos’s battle cruisers, arcing down into the atmosphere as the Alliance ships continued making random changes in position and track, and the Syndics fired yet a third volley, this one managing a single near miss on Gauntlet. “It’s a good thing those cannon take a while to recharge,” Geary commented.

“They’ll probably only get one more volley off,” Desjani agreed. She was right; the shots all going wide this time.

One of the Marine recce drones had been swung over to observe the position where the cannon were located, providing a long-range view of the spot near the horizon of the drone’s viewing area. The kinetic rounds launched by Duellos’s battle cruisers flashed down, leaving tracks of intense brightness in their wakes, the impacts creating huge bursts of light and throwing out fountains of debris. As the light faded, mushroom clouds rose above the site, merging into one titanic grave marker for the cannon battery.

Geary sighed. “Let’s hope that was all they had.”

“Unlikely,” Desjani advised.

“I know.” Geary tapped his communications controls again. “Captain Duellos, congratulations to you and your ships. Well done. Keep an eye out for further attempts.” He grimaced at the images from the recce drones. I can understand why it’s tempting to just bomb the hell out of a planet to minimize the chance of anything surviving to threaten us. But what would give me the right to kill millions of civilians in the hopes of hitting some concealed defenses? It wouldn’t even ensure eliminating those defenses if they were hardened and concealed, and they’re probably both. He looked at Desjani. “Do you think we’ll have to deal with that at the third planet?”

“Possibly. We have to assume the threat exists.”

Geary leaned back, shaking his head. “Why can’t they be rational about this? They don’t have much chance of hurting us, and they’re inviting retaliation every time they shoot.”

Desjani gave a questioning glance his way. “Sir, we’ve been fighting a war with them for a century. I think things like ‘rational’ went out the window quite a while back.”

“Good point. Do you think it would do any good to broadcast another demand not to attack our ships?”

She shrugged. “That’s hard to say. The energy pulse from the collapsing hypernet gate must have fried every unshielded receiver in this star system, but some might still be operational to hear you.”

“Unfortunately, those probably belong to the government and the military.”

“Yes, sir. And they’re unlikely to listen to reason.”

Geary nodded, then studied Desjani. “Captain, when I first met you I think you wouldn’t have hesitated to wipe all of these planets clean of human life. You don’t seem interested in doing that now.”

She looked straight ahead for a while before answering. “I’ve listened to you, sir, and I’ve had some long talks with my ancestors. There’s no honor in killing the helpless. Besides, what we’ve done here will require a massive investment from the Syndics to repair, whereas if we wiped out the system, the Syndics would just write it off.” Desjani paused. “And no one can accuse us of behaving like the Syndics here. We’re not them. I realized I don’t want to die doing things the Syndics would do.”

“Thank you, Captain Desjani.” Between honor and practical considerations, Desjani had decided Geary was right. It made him feel much better than having her agree with him just because he was Black Jack. Geary had wondered what would happen if he dropped dead tomorrow, if the fleet would return to the tactics and practices he had seen when he arrived. But it seemed at least some of the officers were returning to even older practices, the ones Geary was familiar with. He wasn’t fool enough to believe that everything from the past was better than now, but surely abiding by the laws of war, the dictates of true honor, and fighting wisely instead of just bravely were good things.

Over the next several hours as Geary’s formation headed for the third planet, Captain Duellos had to bombard the fourth planet three more times. None of the Syndic attempts to hit his ships had succeeded, which wasn’t surprising, given the fact that the surface-based weapons couldn’t directly observe their targets and had to depend on data provided by drones popping up briefly to take snapshots of the Alliance ships. On the other hand, two of the Marine recce drones ceased transmitting, indicating they had been shot down. Colonel Carabali wouldn’t be pleased about that, but Geary thought two drones was a small price to pay for avoiding hits on his ships.

As Formation Delta closed on the third world, shuttles launched, carrying Marines to their objectives. Most of the shuttles and Marines headed for a big orbiting complex with a large population. The rest aimed for orbiting warehouses containing raw materials and supplies that would have been taken down to the surface or sent onward to other places in the system to outfit Syndic warships under construction. Now they would be taken to the Alliance fleet to take care of its crews and go into manufacturing the supplies it needed.

Geary kept a wary eye on the third world as his ships closed on the planet. The third world hadn’t been quite so densely covered with Syndic defense and defense-related targets, so fewer targets had been hit there, so the upper atmosphere wasn’t as heavily clouded with the dust and water vapor debris from those impacts. It still wasn’t very easy to see the surface, though. A bit warm by human standards, the world was still nice enough to be tolerable. Or at least, it had been. For the next several months it would be a bit more uncomfortable thanks to all of that dust in the atmosphere. But compared to the damage the Alliance could have done, rendering the world completely uninhabitable and smashing every city, the inhabitants of the third world really didn’t have strong grounds for complaint.

The sensors of Dauntless and the other ships in the formation were scanning every piece of surface visible beneath the dust tossed up by the Alliance bombardment, but no defenses missed by that bombing had been detected. “All units in Formation Delta are to avoid entering low orbit around the third world and are to initiate random course and speed changes while within range of weapons based on the planet.”

The order was still being acknowledged when very powerful particle beams tore up through the atmosphere of the third world, aiming for Daring. Fortunately, the Syndics had been overeager, firing at extreme range, and as a result their shots narrowly missed the Alliance battle cruiser. Geary punched his controls savagely. “Daring, take out those guns.”

“It’ll be a pleasure, sir,” Daring responded. A second volley from the Syndic planetary battery ripped through the space Daring would have occupied if she hadn’t jogged slightly to one side and up. The second attack gave Daring the targeting data she needed. The battle cruiser began spitting out kinetic projectiles, the solid metal rounds racing downward through the atmosphere. This time Geary could see the flashes of light on the planet’s surface when the kinetic bombardment tore apart the particle beam battery as well as a fair amount of real estate around it.

By now all of the Alliance ships were jinking erratically, changing courses and speeds by the tiny amounts, which were all that was needed to throw off shots aimed from the planet’s surface at targets in high orbit. Geary tried to relax, knowing they would be worried about more such attacks the entire time they were near this world. “I hope that’s all we have to deal with,” he remarked to Desjani.

On the heels of his words a small window appeared before him, showing the worried face of Colonel Carabali. “Our troops on the orbiting city are under fire,” Carabali reported.

Serves me right for saying something that stupid. I was just asking for trouble. “The orbiting city.” Geary called up the information. With a population of around fifty thousand, the big orbiting complex did qualify as a city by the standards of space installations. It also had a gratifyingly large amount of food stockpiled or otherwise available to feed those fifty thousand and to provision Syndic warships stopping in for supplies. The Alliance fleet could use that food, though Geary had insisted enough be left to avoid starvation. “What exactly is going on?”

“We’ve secured most of the food warehouses and the areas adjacent to them. But Syndic special forces are firing on us from outside our perimeter, using the civilian population for cover. They’re popping out, firing, then fading into the populace.”

It stood to reason that there would be lots of Syndic military forces among the population here, not merely to defend the system but also to provide internal security, a nice way of saying they kept the local population in line. At least some of those military forces weren’t adverse to doing things that could cause the deaths of the civilians they were supposed to be protecting. But he was thinking in Alliance terms. Those troops weren’t really there to protect the citizens of Sancere. Their job was to protect the Syndicate Worlds and the interests of the Syndicate Worlds’ leaders. If a few citizens of the Syndicate Worlds got in the way, or a few million, that was just too bad for the innocent bystanders. “What do you want to do?” Geary asked.

Carabali looked unhappy. “We’ve got three options. One, we fire back as necessary, which will undoubtedly kill a lot of bystanders. Two, we pull back and abandon our efforts. Three, we keep taking casualties with little chance of responding. You’ll notice that under all three options, the Syndics win in one way or another.”

“Hell.” Should he threaten to retaliate against the planet? Would that stop people who had already demonstrated a lack of concern for civilian casualties? And if it didn’t stop them, would he be willing to go through with his threat? “We need that food. Has it tested safe?”

“So far. They didn’t realize we were coming here for that reason, so they didn’t have a chance to poison it.”

Options. There had to be a fourth. Compromise was usually a dangerous course in military actions, but in this case it seemed like the only choice. “What about ordering all civilians out of a buffer area around our troops? Tell them to clear it fast, because after a certain time anything moving in that area is a target. Would that work?”

Carabali nodded slowly. “It might. But if you’re thinking all of the civilians will get clear, that won’t happen. Some always stay. Some because they’re too stubborn or stupid or scared, some because they can’t move for one reason or another. There will still be some within the kill zone.”

“But not nearly as many.”

“No, sir.”

Geary shook his head. “I don’t see that we have any choice. Those Syndic special forces are backing us into a corner. Too bad we don’t have a smart bullet that homes on evil.”

“I think commanders have been wishing for that since the dawn of time, sir,” Carabali noted. “Except for evil commanders, of course.”

“Get it done, Colonel. Give the civilians as much time as you consider prudent to evacuate, but don’t unnecessarily risk your troops.” As soon as Geary had said that, he realized he had given one of those frustratingly contradictory orders that had driven him crazy when he had received them. He owed Carabali something clearer than that. “Do you think half an hour is good?”

“I’d prefer fifteen minutes, sir. That ought to be sufficient for the area we need cleared.”

I won’t second-guess the person with primary responsibility for those troops. “All right. Fifteen minutes.”

“And after that we’re authorized to use necessary force in the buffer area?”

“As long as you don’t punch holes in the outer skin of the city. I don’t want the atmosphere all venting to space.”

Carabali grinned, her earlier upset replaced with apparent good humor. “Yes, sir. I’ll pass on those orders now. Thank you, sir.”

“You’re welcome.” Geary leaned back after the transmission ended and noticed Rione had arrived on the bridge and was watching. “I seem to have made a Marine happy,” he explained.

“Oh? Is she going to get to kill something?”

“Probably.” Geary hesitated, scanning the system display for evidence of other threats. But Syndic Force Alpha hadn’t shown any signs of heading inward yet, and nothing else seemed active. Reassured, Geary pulled up the landing force display, seeing the ranked images that represented the views seen from each of the squad leaders currently on the orbital city. He picked one at random, touching it to make the image grow in size.

The lieutenant whom Geary had chosen to monitor was gazing out across a small courtyard to a cluster of buildings on the other side. Curving upward and into the distance behind the buildings, Geary could see more of the city, which was arranged in the classic and functional rotating cylinder design to remove the need for artificial gravity.

Something flashed within the buildings, and the lieutenant’s view jerked as he pulled back. Fragments flew as a piece of the structure the lieutenant was behind got chipped by a solid metal slug of some kind. Geary keyed the sound and heard the echoes of the shot reverberating. Other shots could be heard sporadically to either side. Then a voice boomed across the buildings. “This area is to be evacuated immediately. All Syndicate Worlds citizens are ordered to withdraw immediately to an area behind Fifth Street. Anyone present in the area this side of Fifth Street is subject to attack as enemy combatants.”

The announcement began repeating. Geary, watching from the lieutenant’s view, saw men, women, and children erupting from buildings and racing away. The distant figure of a man holding a gun stepped out and made threatening motions that halted the exodus near him. “Get him,” the lieutenant ordered. Geary heard the sound of a weapon firing nearby, and moments later, the armed man jerked to one side as if he had been punched, then fell to lie unmoving. The civilians surged into motion again, stampeding past the body.

Geary checked some other views, seeing the same thing. Shots still came from the buildings across from the Marines, but after the fifteen-minute grace period expired, the buildings began exploding as the Marines started targeting them with heavy weapons. Did I approve that? I did, didn’t I?

Syndic civilians might well be dying in those buildings, but that was a choice forced upon him. Somehow that knowledge didn’t make him feel better. Fighting an opponent who kept inviting atrocities, who kept trying to force him to commit atrocities, was an ugly thing. I’ll do what I have to do but not one thing more, you cold-blooded bastards. You won’t be able to blame the deaths of innocents on me or the fleet I command.

It took most of a day to off-load as much food as the Alliance wanted to take, as well as material from the separate warehouses, shuttles distributing it all among the fleet while the warships dodged occasional shots from the planet’s surface and retaliated against the attacks. No surface battery got any hits, and none of them survived the attempt. But there always seemed to be another hidden battery somewhere.

Twenty hours after arriving at the third world, Geary gave the orders to pull away from the planet, happily though wearily reviewing the lists of supplies they had “requisitioned” from the Syndics. The orbital city, somewhat battered from the extended battle between Alliance Marines and Syndic special forces, was nonetheless safe now. But the orbiting warehouses were another matter. Geary confirmed that all of the personnel had been evacuated from them and then ordered their destruction. Anything the Alliance hadn’t taken wouldn’t be used by the Syndics. The warehouses themselves wouldn’t be used anymore, either.

Sancere hadn’t been the only system supplying the Syndics with warships. There were plenty of others churning out capital ships and hordes of lighter units, drawing on the resources of an interstellar power that spanned many star systems. But losing Sancere’s shipyards would make a difference. For a while, at least, the ability of the Syndics to replace their losses would be curtailed.

“All ships, well done.” He yawned as he confirmed that the formation was heading for a new position outside the orbit of the fourth world. “Ladies and gentlemen, I’m getting some sleep.” Desjani grinned tiredly as he left the bridge of Dauntless, making obvious preparations to leave herself.

Geary headed for his stateroom, weary but pleased, wondering if Victoria Rione would be there.

“GEARY here.” He blinked away sleep, checking to make sure he had also remembered to block the video again.

“You asked to be informed when Alliance Formation Bravo began withdrawing from the fourth planet, sir. We’ve been told the withdrawal is under way and confirmed it with sightings of the ships in motion.”

“Thank you.” Geary lay back, grateful that for once the information was good news and wouldn’t require immediate action, as well as knowing he could stop worrying about particle-beam batteries for a while.

“You know,” Rione’s voice came from beside him, “they can tell you’re hiding something.”

“You think so, huh?”

“I know so, John Geary. Have you always blocked video in the past? I thought not. And you’re keeping your voice pitched low. They’re surely wondering who it is you don’t desire to wake.”

“Damn.” Her words suddenly awoke an anxiety in him. “They might think it’s someone from the fleet.” One of his officers. Or worse, one of his sailors. Exactly the sort of thing he was required to avoid doing because of his command authority.

Rione raised herself on her elbow and gave him a thin-lipped smile. “And so I must ensure the fleet knows their hero is sleeping with me. I wonder how I should make the announcement?”

He winced. “I never intended you becoming a public issue. This should be private.”

“Nothing about you can be private, John Geary. If you didn’t realize that already, you should now.”

“This is about you, not me.”

“Are you protecting my honor?” Rione seemed amused again. “I’m old enough to handle that myself. In case you’re wondering, I also realized going into this that it would become a public matter.”

The statement had the unfortunate effect of reminding Geary of his speculations that Rione might be attracted to his power rather than to him. But if that was the case, she would never admit it, and if it wasn’t, he would be crazy to bring up the possibility with her.

“Our relationship isn’t improper or illegal,” Rione noted. “In the morning, I’ll inform the commanders of the ships from the Callas Republic and the Rift Federation. I know in the past they’ve been asked about rumors of your and my association, and have denied them. I must let them know we now do have a relationship if only to keep faith with them. Once they’re informed, the entire fleet will probably know within a span of time too brief to measure.”

Geary couldn’t help sighing. “Does it have to be the fleet’s business?”

“Yes.” She favored him with a stern look. “You know it, too. Attempting to hide personal ties between us would make it look like we believed we were doing something wrong.”

“It’s not wrong.”

“Are you trying to convince me, John Geary? While I’m in bed with you? That’s a little after-the-fact.”

“I’m trying to be serious here. Listen, there is one thing that concerns me. There’s something I’ve counted on from you in the past, and I want that to continue.”

“What would that be?” she asked idly.

“I want you to remain skeptical of my plans. I need you to be skeptical and questioning and demanding. You’re the only person in the fleet I could see as being able to take an outside view of my plans. I need that to continue.”

“You want me to continue to be demanding?” Rione asked. “That’s a bit unusual in a man, but I’ll be happy to try to be as demanding as ever.”

“I’m serious, Victoria,” Geary repeated.

“Victoria may not be able to help you, but Co-President Rione has every intention of continuing to regard you with a worried and skeptical eye. Does that make you feel better?”

“Yeah.”

“Then I’d like to get back to sleep. Good night, again.” She rolled over, leaving Geary with a view of her back that was breathtaking, though he thought she didn’t realize it.

Geary tore his eyes from Victoria Rione’s back with considerable effort, then spent a while staring at the overhead. So she’s going to tell the galaxy that we’re sleeping together. But she’s right that we have to do that. If rumors spread that I’m sleeping with anyone else, it could create serious problems. I’m not sure how I feel about the fleet knowing, because I’m not sure how I feel about her. Am I just attracted to her because I need someone strong beside me now? Or is this just physical and I’m fooling myself about caring for the person? No, I can’t believe that. She’s one hell of a woman, and I know I like a lot of things about her. But she’s not exactly warm and cuddly when we’re not having sex. She’s holding something back. That’s an understatement. She’s holding a lot back. By the time we get home, Victoria Rione might decide I’ve gotten boring and walk away, or might decide Black Jack needs to be stopped, or might not really give a damn about me but still want to be standing beside me so she can use that status to her benefit.

Or she might really care about me.

Face it, Geary, you have no way of knowing how you and she will feel when you reach Alliance space, whether you’ll go off to Kosatka together to get married or if you’ll shake hands and walk away from each other for the rest of your lives.

I guess I’ll make that jump when we get there. If we get there.

INTELLIGENCE gathered in Sancere so far seemed to be both massive in quantity and frustratingly uninformative when it came to the most important issues. Marine landing parties had downloaded a huge number of files from abandoned Syndic terminals, but none of them held information of immediate use. Several surviving escape pods from the destroyed ships of Syndic Force Bravo had been picked up, but the sailors inside only knew they had been in a battle at Scylla near the border with the Alliance. Syndic officers could have told the Alliance interrogators more, but any of the escape pods carrying officers had been destroyed by the energy release from the collapsing gate. The battle at Scylla seemed to have been fought to a bloody draw, with both sides withdrawing from the star system afterward. The minor installations Geary had remembered being at Scylla a century ago had long since been destroyed or abandoned as the two sides fought incessantly over an otherwise worthless star system.

They pounded the hell out of each other and then broke contact. It wasn’t a big battle. What we saw arrive here at Sancere was the majority of the Syndic force, and the Alliance side was about equal in numbers. But I can’t draw any conclusions from that, because I don’t know what’s happening elsewhere on the front lines of this war.

Frustrated, Geary searched through the communications links to find the intelligence center on Dauntless. “This is Captain Geary. I’d like to personally speak to the senior surviving Syndic sailor we picked up. Can I do that now?”

The reply took a moment. “I’ll have to check-” The voice broke off as Geary heard someone yelling in the background. “Uh, yes, sir! Immediately, sir. Do you want to do it by virtual contact or actual physical interview?”

“Actual interview.” Geary had never been able to shake a nagging suspicion that the virtual meeting software didn’t convey every movement and nuance exactly right. In his experience software had a tendency to smooth out things that didn’t match its parameters, even though humans frequently betrayed minor, seemingly contradictory behaviors. What software thought of as anomalies to be eliminated could be the most important things a person was showing. “I’ll be down in a few minutes.”

The intelligence section rested behind some impressive security hatches. A slightly nervous lieutenant was waiting outside them and quickly led Geary though into the high-security area. For some reason it always felt hushed in there to Geary, even though to the eye it just seemed a regular office space with a few more pieces of equipment crammed onto desks and into odd corners. In keeping with ancient tradition, the intelligence section was a world unto itself, part of and yet also separate from the rest of the ship’s crew. The tighter security world in which they operated was matched by a somewhat looser working environment.

One of the desks actually had a plant on it, a small splash of living greenery. Geary cocked a questioning eyebrow at the lieutenant, who looked a little more nervous as he responded. “That’s Audrey, sir.”

Of course. If a spaceship had plants on board, one was usually called Audrey. The reason for that, if there was a reason, was lost in the mists of the past, but it made Geary feel a little better to see something that hadn’t changed from his time to now. Geary smiled reassuringly and followed the lieutenant toward the interrogation room.

The interrogation room followed a design that outwardly at least probably hadn’t changed for centuries. Geary looked through the one-way mirror into it and saw that a Syndic noncommissioned officer sat in a single chair, apparently unrestrained. She seemed dazed and scared but trying not to show it. “If she makes a move for you, we’ll drop her with a stun charge,” the lieutenant assured Geary.

“She doesn’t seem the suicide-charge type,” Geary remarked. He studied the instrument readouts before him. “These are all related to your interrogations?” He had been down in this area before, but there hadn’t been prisoners then.

“Yes, sir.” The lieutenant indicated the devices. “We can do remote scans of brain activity while asking questions. That way we can spot deception on things we need to know.”

“And what do you do then?”

“Confrontation sometimes works. Once they realize we know when they’re lying, some people crack. For the tough ones, the best process is the use of drugs to eliminate normal inhibitions. We ask, they talk.”

“That sounds more humane than beating them up,” Geary noted with another smile.

“Beating them up?” The lieutenant seemed startled by the suggestion. “Why would we do that, sir? It produces unreliable information.”

“Does it?”

“Yes, sir. Not as bad as outright torture, but still unreliable. Our job is to find out accurate information for you. Physical and mental abuse might get people talking, but it wouldn’t provide accurate information.”

Geary nodded, secretly relieved that in the case of intelligence collection simple pragmatism had avoided the atrocities he had seen elsewhere. If he had learned his intelligence people were depending on torture, it would have meant they were as dysfunctional as the fleet’s tactics had once been. “Okay, let me in.”

The Syndic sailor jerked her head to look as the heavy door opened. Geary walked in, the Syndic sailor staring at his rank insignia, and stopped near her. “Who are you?” he asked. The intelligence types could have told him, but it seemed a good way to start a conversation.

The woman spoke steadily enough. “General Service Sailor Rank Seven Gyal Barada, Syndicate Worlds Self-Defense Forces, Mobile Space Forces Directorate.”

Geary sat down in the other chair, grateful that he worked in a fleet rather than a “mobile space forces directorate.” “I’m Captain John Geary.” The woman blinked in confusion. “I used to be called Black Jack Geary. That’s probably how you’ve heard of me. I’m the commander of this fleet.”

Confusion changed to fear. “That’s how-” the Syndic sailor blurted, then choked off further words.

Geary kept his voice calming and conversational. “How what?”

She was staring at him in near terror. “I heard the officers talking before our ship was destroyed. The enemy fleet couldn’t be here, they said. It couldn’t have got here. But it was.”

Geary nodded. “I did have something to do with that.”

“They told us this fleet was destroyed. In the home system. And you died a century ago.” The Syndic sailor had gone so pale that Geary feared she would faint.

“Were you injured in the battle?” he asked.

She shook her rapidly. “No. I don’t think so.”

“Have you been treated in accordance with the laws of war since being made prisoner?”

Confusion had returned again. “I…yes.”

“Good. How’s the war going?”

She swallowed and spoke the way someone did when reciting something. “The Syndicate Worlds are going from triumph to triumph. Final victory is within our grasp.”

“Is it?” Geary wondered for how long Syndic propaganda had been declaring final victory was nearly achieved. “Do you ever question that?” The woman shook her head, not saying anything. “I didn’t think so. It’s probably dangerous to question that sort of thing.” Still no answer. “Would you like to go home?” She stared at Geary for a long time, then nodded. “So would I. But then my home is free. Yours isn’t. Does that ever bother you?”

“I am a citizen of the Syndicate Worlds, living in prosperity and security thanks to the sacrifices of my leaders,” the sailor recited.

Amazing. That little piece of nonsense the Syndics get drilled into them hasn’t changed in a century. But then how do you improve on something that simple and misleading? “Do you actually believe that?”

“I am a citizen of the Syndicate Worlds-”

“I heard the first time. What would it require to get you to question that? To do something about it?”

She stared back at him, plainly terrified again. “I will not answer your questions.”

Geary nodded. “I didn’t expect an answer. I’m just curious what it would take for someone like you to turn against a government that enslaves you and mistreats you.”

The Syndic sailor stared back for a long while before speaking. “I have a home world to defend.” Another pause. “I have a family on that world.”

Geary thought about that, then nodded again. Old motivations, but strong ones. Defend your home from foreign invaders. And keep your family safe from your own government. It had worked for countless totalitarian states throughout human history. For a while, anyway. “I’m going to tell you something. I don’t expect you to believe it, but I’ll tell you anyway. The Alliance doesn’t want to attack your world. It doesn’t want to cause harm to your family. No one in the Alliance is fighting because we fear our own government. Everyone in the Syndicate Worlds has the choice of continuing to support their leaders in this ugly war or calling for it to end on terms of mutual safety.”

Her face had closed down like a true believer being told that her ancestors weren’t watching over her, but the Syndic sailor said nothing. Remaining silent in the face of authority even when you disagreed with it was doubtless a survival tactic in the Syndicate Worlds.

Geary stood up. “Your ships fought bravely. I regret the fact that we had to destroy them. May our children meet in peace someday.” Those words finally drew a startled reaction, but the Syndic sailor just stared, not saying anything as Geary left the room.

“You can’t talk them into working against their leaders,” the lieutenant commented. “We try. You’d think self-interest would motivate them.”

Geary shook his head. “Lieutenant, if self-interest motivated humans, then you, I, and every other Alliance and Syndic soldier, sailor, and Marine would be sitting on a beach back on our home worlds drinking beer. For better or for worse, people believe in things they’ll fight for. In our case, better, in their case, worse.”

“Yes, sir. But you planted an interesting seed there, sir. We didn’t realize how that would play out.”

“What do you mean?” Geary asked.

“She thinks you’re dead, and she thinks this fleet was destroyed. Did you see how scared she was? Her metabolic readings went sky high. She thinks that we’re a ghost fleet commanded by a ghost.” The lieutenant grinned. “That just might impact Syndic morale a bit.”

“It might.” He studied the Syndic sailor through the one-way mirror. “What are the plans for her and the other prisoners?”

“We’d been trying to decide. They don’t have any intelligence value. But if we can use them to spread rumors, that might benefit us,” the lieutenant said carefully, “perhaps we should…consider…releasing them.”

“Do we still have their escape pods on board?”

“Yes, sir.” The lieutenant seemed surprised that Geary hadn’t been outraged at his suggestion. “We searched the pods for anything of value that might have been brought off their ships, but there’s nothing worthwhile in them either.”

Geary looked at the Syndic sailor, thinking that a few changes in events would have left him in her place. A century ago if the Syndics had picked up his pod after the battle. A few months ago if this fleet had been unable to run from the Syndic home system, the ships all destroyed, the crews captured. “All right, then. Here’s my orders. There wouldn’t be any sense anyway in hauling around Syndic prisoners of no value that we have to feed and guard and keep confined. I think you’ve made a very good suggestion. We can use these prisoners to our benefit. Make sure the other prisoners know who’s in command of this fleet. I’ll make personal appearances for any of them who don’t believe it. Then I want them returned to their escape pods and relaunched so they can land on one of the worlds in this system.”

The lieutenant grinned. “Yes, sir. They’re going to be surprised.”

“I like surprising the Syndics,” Geary noted dryly. “Don’t you?” The lieutenant smiled wider. “Make certain the pods have sufficient life support and fuel remaining to get those people home. They may need to be restocked. Have system checks run on them, too, to make sure nothing critical got broken by the energy release from the gate.” Intelligence types might not pay attention to that kind of detail if not reminded. “Understood?”

“Yes, sir.” The lieutenant hesitated. “This may not work, sir. And they’re not going to be grateful for being released. We may just end up fighting them again.”

“Maybe. Maybe not. A few sailors more or less shouldn’t make a big difference to the Syndic war effort.”

“That’s true, sir.”

“One other thing,” Geary added. “I could tell that you were reluctant to suggest this course of action to me. I want to know when the Intelligence section has ideas. If I don’t want to follow them, I’ll decide that after I’ve heard them.”

“Yes, sir.”

“And you never know, Lieutenant. On the one hand, those sailors may spread rumors that we’re all demons. On the other hand, we treated them decently. If enough Syndics learn that we’re not demons, maybe that will help, too.” He left, thinking that in a few more days the fleet could leave Sancere, having taken everything it could carry and destroyed everything it couldn’t. About a billion Syndic citizens would be looking up at the stars and breathing easier. They would also be worrying about the Alliance fleet possibly reappearing someday. That wouldn’t be possible, their leaders would assure them, but then it should have been impossible for the fleet to show up here even once. One way or another, this fleet had given a lot of Syndics a lot to think about.

Of course, Syndic Force Alpha was still out there. Sooner or later, Geary was sure Force Alpha would try something. It couldn’t let the Alliance fleet leave without trying an attack of some kind, not if the CEO in charge of it wanted to keep his or her head on their shoulders.