Dreadnaught

One corner of her mouth curled upward in a sardonic smile. “You just reminded us that our ancestors and the living stars don’t look kindly on the slaughter of civilians or prisoners. Fine. We stopped killing everyone but combatants. But that doesn’t mean we want to help any Syndics who survived the war.”

“I know.” He still had trouble grasping that: how the long war had poisoned the natural human tendency to offer aid to those in distress, even if those others were former enemies. But then he had slept through the vast majority of that war, not felt it through every day of his life. “What I’m saying is, purely in terms of self-interest, the Alliance may have to help clean up the mess in what was Syndic territory. Something is going to replace Syndic authority in areas that slip from the grasp of the central government. Trying to ensure that those successor governments are representative and peaceful rather than dictatorial and aggressive just seems like smart policy.”

Instead of replying directly, Desjani glanced at his display. “Speaking of messes, how’s our own government doing these days?”

“Not too well, apparently. The next headline says ‘Newly elected Alliance senators demand investigations into wartime corruption.’ ”

“Investigating wartime corruption in the government would keep a lot of people busy for at least a few decades,” she observed.

“As long as I’m not one of them.” Geary read the next headline with growing disbelief. Authoritative accounts reveal that Black Jack demanded and received a free hand from the Alliance grand council for the campaign that ended the war. “That’s not true! I didn’t demand anything. Who the hell leaked that?”

Desjani took a look at the headline. “Somebody who’s unhappy at the way the politicians are all trying to claim credit for the end of the war. Some other politicians angling for advantage. Fleet officers who guessed at the truth and assumed you had to threaten the council. There are plenty of possibilities.”

“No wonder the government still sees me as a threat.”

“You are a threat,” she reminded him. “If you hadn’t convinced Captain Badaya and those like him that you’re actually running the government covertly, making the big decisions behind the scenes, then they would have already staged a coup in your name. Things could be worse.”

He studied the headlines again, trying to read between the lines. “Someone in the government must realize as well as we do what’s holding the fleet back. Overt action against me could still trigger a coup I couldn’t forestall, then civil war as some star systems simply pulled out of the Alliance in response.” It had taken a long time to accept that, the idea that the Alliance could be so frail, but a century of all-out warfare with its immense costs in lives and money had badly frayed the seams of the Alliance.

“That doesn’t mean they won’t still try something,” Desjani observed.

“Could the government be that stupid?”

She smiled scornfully. “Yes.”

Citizens’ coalitions demand that Black Jack be brought to Prime to clean up government, the next headline screamed. Next to a coup by his misguided supporters, Geary thought, that would be his worst nightmare. Why did anyone believe that the ability to command a fleet meant that he could also run a government? He looked at the display showing the distance remaining to Ambaru station and the time remaining until the ship docked, wondering what awaited him and Tanya there.

“What’s the matter?” she asked, her tone softer.

“I was just thinking.”

“You’ve been promoted to admiral again. I’m not sure that much thinking on your part is permitted.”

“Very funny.” His gaze went to the stars again. “Before . . . before the war started, I never worried that much about the future. Most of it was out of my hands. I had serious responsibilities as an officer in the fleet, and at the last as commanding officer of a heavy cruiser, but what we did and where we went was never up to me. Then the war happened, and I ended up in command of the fleet a century later. For months after that, the future was a very narrowly focused thing. We needed to get the fleet from one star to the next, and eventually home. Then we needed to deal with the Syndics and do something to hold off the aliens. The future aimed itself. Do this. Then do that. Figure out how, right now, or there’s no more future.”

Geary paused and looked toward her. Desjani met his eyes, her expression somber but calm. “Now, the future is a huge, vague thing. I have no idea what tomorrow is supposed to hold, what I should do, what I’ll be called upon to do. I know because of everything that’s happened that the future depends a lot upon my own actions and decisions. And I no longer have any idea where those should take us.”