Dreadnaught

“Sorry.” She knew how little he liked most of the sayings about and attributed to the legendary Black Jack, especially since he couldn’t recall ever actually having said most of them. “Anyway, that’s why I’ve been all right with Bradamont since then. That and, uh, gaining some personal understanding of the tricks a heart can play on people whether they want it to happen or not. Obviously, Bradamont never compromised herself in that prison camp, or security wouldn’t have cleared her even if she was a Geary. Sorry. That’s another saying. But that’s why Bradamont tried not to draw attention to herself. Which makes her highly visible attempts to help control things a short time ago unusual. Things have changed a bit, of course. Not too long ago, if she’d spoken up, someone like Kila or Faressa would have gone after her, but the war is officially over, and they’re both dead, may my ancestors and the living stars forgive me for not being the least bit sorry in either of their cases.”

Another pause, then Desjani smiled for a moment. “I missed Jaylen Cresida, but Bradamont . . . she felt like Jaylen was there backing me up.”

“That’s pretty high praise.”

“I mean it.” Desjani eyed him. “But not everyone took her high profile in this matter well. How do you intend explaining to Badaya and his faction why you’re leaving the Alliance when they think you’re actually running everything?”

The change in topic threw him off for a moment, as did the realization that he had no answer to the question. “I’m open to suggestions.”

She checked the display in front of her. “Twenty minutes until we reach Dauntless. I’d rather spend it necking with my new husband since the living stars alone know when next we’ll have an opportunity for that, but it looks like we’ll have to devote that time to using our brains.”

“I share your sentiments.” Geary activated his own display. “Let’s see if there are any ideas here. Search . . . leader . . . no, ruler . . . fighting . . . outside . . . borders.” An extremely long string of results stared insolently back at him. “Great. How do I sort through all this?”

Leaning close to him, Desjani pointed to one. “Marcus Aurelius? That’s a strange name. Look how old that citation is. Roman Emperor. What is a Roman Emperor?”

“What was a Roman Emperor,” Geary corrected, staring at the dates. “A long time ago, on Old Earth. What does that have to do with . . . Ruler of his Empire, but he spent his time fighting on the borders.”

“Sounds like we found our precedent.”

“Let’s hope so.” Geary kept reading. “He was also some kind of philosopher. ‘If it is not right do not do it; if it is not true do not say it,’ ” he quoted.

“Easy for him to say,” Desjani complained. “In order for you to do the right thing, you have to be pretty careful what you say. Maybe things were simpler back in the times of this Roman Empire. It all happened on one planet. On part of one planet. How complicated could things have been?”

“I guess that would depend on how much people have changed since then, or if they’ve changed at all. This Aurelius had to fight on the borders of the Empire, to maintain security,” Geary mused. “While trusted subordinates ran things back home. That’s our answer. Everybody says I’m the only one who could handle these aliens, so we tell everyone that I have to go do that while my trusted agents follow orders back inside the Alliance.”

“Smooth,” Desjani approved. “And the identities of the agents have to remain secret?”

“Naturally.” But he said that in a sour way that drew another sharp look from her.

“Admiral Geary, you’re only misleading those who would otherwise do things that would cause a lot of trouble for everyone, including themselves. Now straighten up your uniform.”

“It looks fine—”

“You’re an admiral, and you have to look your best. Besides, I don’t want us walking off this shuttle looking like I’ve been groping you.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

That earned him another look, some annoyed eye rolling, and a heavy sigh of exasperation.

ABOARDDauntless, the shuttle resting securely in the shuttle dock, he walked down the ramp and onto one of Dauntless’s decks, memories flooding in of events here. Geary’s last words with the flawed and doomed Admiral Bloch, his later first encounters with Alliance men and women liberated from Syndicate Worlds’ labor camps, and his frantic departure about four weeks ago, trying to stay ahead of a new promotion and new orders as he sought to catch up with Desjani.

The short notice before their arrival didn’t seem to have fazed Dauntless’s crew. A perfectly turned-out set of sideboys rendered honors as Geary reached the deck. An announcement echoed through the ship. “Admiral Geary, arriving.” He raised an arm, which had just begun to recover, and returned their salutes with his own.