ELEVEN
“WHAT is it, then?” Ambassador Rycerz demanded, clearly puzzled by Bradamont’s attitude. “What do they want from us?”
“The Wooareek want our stories,” Bradamont said. “Our books, our music, our videos, our art. The products of human imagination and creativity.”
Several seconds of stunned silence were finally broken by Geary. “Our books?”
Commander Boudreaux nodded. “Yes, Admiral. The Wooareek desire agreements for the sharing of what they called ‘creations.’ That’s what the Wooareek call things like music, movies, books, art, anything like that.”
“Why?” Captain Badaya spread his hands in bafflement. “Why would someone like the Wooareek care about human books and movies and pictures?”
Bradamont smiled. “The Wooareek told us, ‘Your stories are windows into how you think, your art shows how you see, your music shows how you feel.’ Apparently, they’re fascinated by the different perspectives different species bring to such things. How they view the universe and each other.”
“Sort of like how humans enjoy experiencing other human cultures?” Captain Duellos said.
“That’s a rough comparison,” Dr. Nkosi said. “But roughly accurate, as far as we can tell.”
Captain Armus leaned forward, plainly skeptical. “The Wooareek made it clear to you that they had closely surveilled us for who knows how long. That means they must already have had plenty of access to our music and movies and such.”
“Yes, sir,” Commander Boudreaux said. “We brought that up. The Wooareek said they’d used those things for scientific purposes. But the Wooareek claimed they haven’t sold or exchanged or distributed any of that music or other things within their society. Because, they said, they haven’t paid for it.”
“They haven’t paid for it?” Rycerz stared at Boudreaux. “They want to pay for it?”
“Yes, Ambassador,” Kommodor Bradamont said. “The Wooareek told us they need to have agreements with the creators of the ‘creations’ that allow them to distribute those things. And they said they’d pay for those agreements.”
“They already have them,” Captain Badaya said, openly skeptical, “but they think they still have to pay for them?”
“Yes,” Commander Boudreaux said. “They insisted on it.”
“Ethical aliens,” Captain Duellos said, looking torn between amusement and disbelief.
“If their technology is that advanced, and we can trade them popular songs for it, why wouldn’t we do that?” Captain Smythe said, smiling.
Everyone turned eager looks on Commander Boudreaux, who shook his head, looking unhappy. “We asked the Wooareek about technology. They said . . .” He grimaced. “The words were polite enough, but they amounted to absolutely not.”
“ ‘No way,’ ” Bradamont quoted. “Maybe it was just how their translator worked, but listening to their reply, I and the others had the distinct impression of adults telling an eager child, ‘Maybe we’ll talk about that when you’re older.’ They’re not going to transfer technology.”
The silence following Boudreaux’s and Bradamont’s statements was broken by Captain Smythe, speaking in a plaintive voice. “But I want it now!”
Once the laughter had died down, Geary looked at Ambassador Rycerz. “I guess getting access to any of the Wooareek technology will be a long-term diplomatic issue.”
“And a business issue,” Rycerz said. “If the Wooareek want deals for creative products such as songs and books, that would mean negotiations with those holding the rights to those things. All the Alliance government could legally do is exert oversight of such business negotiations.”
“What were they talking about paying, if not knowledge or tech?” Captain Duellos asked.
Kommodor Bradamont smiled slightly. “Precious metals. Jewels. Other precious natural items. Their own art. They showed us some amazing carvings of what seemed like corals. And, of course, the deals would create sales access for the human creators to all of the Wooareek-occupied star systems.”
Tanya Desjani spoke up. “I don’t get it. These Wooareek appear to be incredibly powerful. They control awesome technology. Why are they asking us about making deals? Why aren’t they telling us what deals we’re going to get?”
“That’s what humans would do,” Captain Badaya agreed matter-of-factly.
“But instead they want peace and mutual agreements?” Desjani asked. “They want to pay us for what they already have? What is up with that?”
“They’re ethical,” Captain Duellos repeated.
“So? I’m pretty ethical, too. I think most if not all of us here are ethical. Or mostly ethical, anyway. But the Wooareek seem way too good to be true.”
“You’re sure they have weapons?” Geary asked Bradamont, Boudreaux, and Iger. “Did you say they confirmed they have weapons?”
Boudreaux grimaced. “They admitted they’d developed weapons to defend themselves against dangerous creatures in their home world, and dangers they’ve encountered in space. That was as specific as they got.”
“The Wooareek didn’t act ashamed of having weapons,” Bradamont added. “It was just, ‘Yeah, we’ve got that sort of thing. No, we’re not worried about anyone else attacking us.’ It wasn’t bravado. No waving around of weapons or boasting of what they could do. We’ve all seen that sort of posturing. It was . . . confidence. The sort of deep-rooted confidence that comes from being the best at something.”
“That same impression was shared by nearly everyone aboard Sapphire,” Commander Boudreaux said.
Lieutenant Iger nodded. “My assessment is that the Wooareek are at peace because no one dares pick a fight with them. And if anyone does attack, as the Kicks or the enigmas might, the Wooareek could easily make short work of them. More likely, the Wooareek simply avoid them so they don’t have to deal with species like the Kicks.”
“So,” Captain Badaya said in arch tones, “these Wooareek are armed to the teeth but also ethical? Why?”
“I also don’t understand the connection between ethics and peace,” Captain Armus said, frowning. “It seems to me the ethical always get stomped on by the unethical. If these Wooareek are so powerful, they can do whatever they want. The fact that they seek agreements with us for things they can take seems an admission of weakness.” There were murmurs of agreement following his words.
Dr. Cresida, frowning, looked about her. “Ethics is often mistaken for weakness.”
John Senn nodded quickly. “That’s been a frequent error throughout human history.”
“Then explain the Wooareek behavior,” Captain Armus said.
Kommodor Bradamont shook her head. “What is there to explain? Why are you all questioning this? Of course an ethical species would be a peaceful species! None of them would ever decide to take something belonging to someone else just because they wanted it. None of them would go to war to take things by force instead of negotiating a mutual agreement. None of them would let others suffer by withholding things they have which they could easily part with to help another!”
“You mean like the Syndics would,” Captain Badaya said pointedly.
“Yes, like the Syndicate Worlds,” Bradamont agreed.
“No one would describe the Syndicate as ethical,” Colonel Rogero said. “I had to look up the word just now to understand what you were talking about.”
“If the Wooareek are that ethical,” Duellos said, “why do they even want to do business with humanity?”
“I asked them why they’d make agreements with us,” Bradamont said. “Because I wondered the same thing. And they said ‘You’re not always Melos.’ None of us have been able to figure out what that meant. It doesn’t seem to match any person or world in our databases. There’s just some ancient historical reference to an island on Old Earth.”
“Melos?!” John Senn said in surprise before looking abashed as everyone switched their attention to him. “The Melian Dialogue. That must be what the Wooareek meant. Yes, it’s ancient history on Old Earth. Thucydides wrote about it. There was a city called Melos that remained neutral in a war between . . . Athens and Sparta. Athens sent a strong force to attack Melos anyway, and in their demand that Melos surrender didn’t pretend to make any ethical arguments. They just said, ‘The strong do what they want, and the weak endure what they must.’ ”
“Power politics at its most basic and most brutal,” Ambassador Rycerz observed.
“And an awful lot of human history reflects that attitude,” Senn said. “Not all of it, though. If the Wooareek said we’re not always Melos, then they must mean humans aren’t always . . . unethical. So they’re willing to at least give us a chance.” He looked even more surprised. “The Wooareek know Thucydides? They must have already acquired a lot of knowledge about us.”
“The enigmas proved how easy that was,” Captain Duellos said. “How long ago was this Melos thing?”
“Thousands of years old before humans even left Old Earth.”
“I wonder how long they’ve been watching us. Did the Wooareek give any indication of how long they’ve had interstellar space travel?”
“They wouldn’t say,” Lieutenant Iger replied.
Duellos made a face. “But we do know they know a great deal about us. They must have been collecting that information for a long time. Why wait until now to contact us?”
“That’s the same question we’ve asked the Dancers,” General Charban said. “The answer is always something along the lines of ‘the time was right.’ ”
“We contacted the Dancers,” Desjani pointed out. “They didn’t reveal themselves to us. We came knocking on their door. Maybe we need to knock on doors before any of these species will deal with us.”
“The enigmas and the Kicks have responded to knocks on their doors by trying to kill us,” Badaya said.
Lieutenant Jamenson pointed to the star chart floating above the conference table. “We’ve never seen enigmas or Kicks in Dancer space, except when the Kicks followed us and the Dancers helped us fight them off. But the Taon and the Wooareek both seem to have free passage through Dancer-controlled space. Maybe they’re all part of some association, and knocking on one of their doors is the same as knocking on all of them?”
“That is entirely plausible,” Ambassador Rycerz said. “Not necessarily something as closely bound as star systems belonging to the Alliance, but some association allowing contact and trade. If so, when we entered Dancer space we may have knocked on the doors of every species belonging to such an association.”
“But they’re all judging us independently,” Geary said. “The Taon certainly did, and it seems the Wooareek are doing so as well.”
Rycerz nodded. “An association in which each member species retains considerable autonomy. Did the Wooareek say how they intended to get our response to their requests?”
“They said they’d be back here,” Commander Boudreaux replied. “They said they realized it might not be feasible for now, but ultimately they wanted to be able to visit human space to negotiate directly with creators.”
“That’d go over great,” Captain Badaya said, his voice heavy with sarcasm. “Can you imagine the reactions in human star systems to the sort of show that the Wooareek put on when they brought Sapphire back?”
Captain Smythe snorted. “That kind of display of superiority wouldn’t play well.”
“I don’t believe a display of superiority was what the Wooareek intended,” Bradamont said, gesturing to emphasize her words. “I think they did it because they could and because it was fun. Just like humans having fun maneuvering battle cruisers all out or those warbird aerospace pilots doing stunts.”
“What they intend matters less than what humans would think,” Ambassador Rycerz pointed out. “There’s going to have to be a lot of groundwork laid to make that happen. Does anyone disagree with the need to reach these deals with the Wooareek?”
“I think,” General Charban said, “we need to consider how the Wooareek would react to dealing with the likes of Ronald Yangdi.”
“There comes a point where we cannot control that,” Rycerz said. “Not under the laws of the Alliance.”
“Realistically,” Captain Smythe said, “we can’t keep the Wooareek out of human space except by negotiations and reaching agreements. As it stands, if the Wooareek wanted to visit Unity, we couldn’t stop them.”
“We’d fight to the last if it came to that,” Captain Armus said. “Even it was hopeless, we would not submit without fighting as long as we could.”
“Even if it was hopeless,” Captain Desjani agreed.
“But surely it would be better not to fight,” Ambassador Rycerz said. “Not if we can reach agreements that, as far as I can see, would not harm humanity.”
Geary looked around, wondering if anyone would openly disagree.
No one did. Not even Colonel Webb, who, given his past distrust of aliens, Geary had thought would be leery of dealing with the Wooareek.
But Webb sat, silent, his eyes hooded. Something about his demeanor didn’t feel right to Geary, who made a mental note to check up on Webb after this.
Captain Armus nodded toward the ambassador. “I wouldn’t object. There have been too many deaths already.”
“Midway will need to have a place at the table when these agreements are made,” Colonel Rogero said. “Did the Wooareek indicate a willingness to deal with us?” he asked Bradamont.
“They did,” Bradamont said. “Though they kept making a reference to an umbrella. That’s how their translator rendered their word. Umbrella.”
“Specifically in reference to an agreement?” Rycerz asked. “I see. An umbrella agreement is basically something written broadly enough to cover both current issues and any future issues that might arise. It could also refer to an agreement that covers all Wooareek and human interactions.”
“But is that what the Wooareek meant?” General Charban wondered.
Bradamont shrugged. “Their translator seemed to be remarkably accurate when it used other words. Those words matched what humans would use.”
“I see,” Rycerz repeated. She paused. “My staff and I have been speaking with the Dancers about an agreement governing contact and travel through each other’s territory and trade. The Dancers approached us with their own proposals, which seemed to be very broad. They could be characterized as an umbrella agreement. Perhaps those proposals are the same which govern the Dancers’ association with other species, and how other species interact with each other. But there seems to be some other meaning to the term as they’re using it that we’re not getting.”
“Why not just tell us, then?” Captain Badaya said, exasperated. “Why can’t the Dancers simply tell you that? And what about other humans? The Dancers know the Alliance doesn’t represent all of humanity. No one does! What happens when other humans don’t abide by the ‘umbrella’ agreement between the Alliance and the Dancers? Do we get accused of violating the agreement?”
General Charban answered, his expression unhappy. “ ‘Human problem, humans fix.’ That’s what the Dancers told us about the Syndic flotilla we dealt with. That’s what they told us about Fortuna. Maybe the Dancers expect us to enforce whatever deal we make. Enforce it against any other humans,” he added with heavy emphasis.
“Lokaa,” Geary said, as Charban’s words reminded him of earlier thoughts along those lines. “The Taon led by Lokaa were welcome in Dancer space. But there were other Taon who attacked Lokaa’s force. Lokaa said those other Taon were xenophobes. Is Lokaa’s fleet in that star system to enforce an agreement with the Dancers about contacts between their species?”
Ambassador Rycerz gave Geary a worried look. “Which might indeed mean the Dancers expect us to do the same with regard to any human actors not part of the Alliance.”
“Have the Dancers flat out told you that?”
Rycerz’s reply came out reluctantly, as if she regretted the need to share the information. “There are parts of the Dancer proposals whose meaning is . . . unclear to us. We’ve been trying to get their meaning, as understood by the Dancers, nailed down. But it is a reasonable interpretation of them that the Dancers do expect us to enforce the agreement.”
“You realize,” Colonel Rogero said, “that Midway could not accept such an agreement.”
“Even parts of the Alliance, such as the Callas Republic, might not,” Captain Hiyen said, speaking up for the first time.
“Old Earth wouldn’t,” Captain Duellos said. “Nor the Old Colonies. The smaller associations of stars between the Alliance and the Old Colonies wouldn’t accept it. And, of course, the Syndics would never buy into such an agreement.”
“Not to mention Mr. Medals and his fellow nutcases on the other side of the galactic arm from Old Earth,” Desjani said. “We haven’t heard from any of them since Dauntless visited Old Earth, but news like this will spread through every place humans have reached.”
“Amid all the uncertainties,” Captain Smythe said, “we do have one certainty. Some humans will try to do unethical things to the Wooareek, as well as to the Dancers, and to the Taon. Try to cheat them on a deal, try to steal technology, try to break any rules the Wooareek or the Taon or the Dancers have established.”
“The Syndicate will do all of those things,” Bradamont agreed.
“As I reminded the admiral regarding the Fortuna,” Colonel Rogero said, “what you just described are considered nothing but good business practices in the Syndicate.”
“Right there!” Smythe said, pointing to Rogero. “So, we make these deals, sign these agreements, and then what happens when other humans break them? Are we, the Alliance, willing to go to war with the rest of humanity in order to keep the peace?”
“That,” said Ambassador Rycerz, “is one of the most bizarre statements I’ve ever heard. And I’ve heard many in my diplomatic career. But it also may sum up our choices. I hope we’re not interpreting them correctly.”
“The Wooareek didn’t seem worried about anything like that,” Lieutenant Iger said. “They may have special means of keeping out unwanted visitors.”
“That still leaves us with the Dancers and the Taon,” Smythe commented.
“There are grounds for hope,” Geary said, drawing surprised looks from everyone but Tanya Desjani. “The Dancers, the Taon, and the Wooareek have found ways to make this sort of thing work. If they can do it, humanity should be able to figure out an answer.”
Captain Duellos arched his eyebrows at Geary. “Admiral, if former senator Victoria Rione were here I think I can easily imagine what her response to those optimistic words would be.”
Geary smiled in reply, again startling the others. “Rione was as cynical and manipulative as they come. But she always believed there was an angle, a way to handle any situation that came up. You just had to be, uh, creative in looking at the problem and thinking of solutions.”
“I feel obligated to remind you, Admiral,” Captain Armus said, his voice heavy, “that her last solution, may her memory be honored, required her to sacrifice herself.”
“We’re not at that point yet,” Geary said. “Think, people. For all of our flaws, humans find solutions. We want to find a good one.”
“How long do we have?” Captain Smythe asked. “The fleet can’t stay here indefinitely.”
“I will emphasize that to the Dancers,” Rycerz said. “That’s all I can promise.”
COLONEL Webb answered Geary’s call quickly, displaying his usual élan rather than any appearance of misgivings as during the meeting on the Wooareek. “To what do I owe the pleasure, Admiral?”
“I’m just checking in with you,” Geary said. He’d made this call from the now otherwise empty conference room, wanting to have more security than even his stateroom offered. “I know you’re not under my command, but I still feel obligated to keep an eye on any military here. How are things going?”
Webb paused, not answering for several seconds. “Admiral,” he finally said, “I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop.”
“Which shoe would that be?”
“The one wielded by the people who have made your life, and my life, far too interesting on this op,” Webb said. “That attempt a while back by a few of your ship captains to start a war with the Dancers while you were off with part of the fleet visiting the Taon seemed way too amateurish, if you’ll forgive my saying so.”
“It could’ve done damage,” Geary said.
“It still felt sloppy to me,” Webb said. “And under-resourced. We’ve got a lot of enemies trying to undermine what we’re doing.” Webb shook his head, looking unhappy. “I’m still waiting. I can feel it. Like a thunderstorm coming. Maybe I’ve been doing this too long and I’m getting jumpy. We’ll see. How did you manage it down on that planet?”
“With the Dancers, you mean?” Geary smiled slightly. “It was interesting.”
“I bet. Ambassador Rycerz has told me that if the Dancers want our embassy to be on the planet’s surface, she’ll want me and my soldiers to stay aboard Boundless. Between you and me, I’m okay with that.”
After a couple more exchanges of vague pleasantries, Geary ended the call. Webb had been unusually open about his worries, but that might be attributed to those worries. At least he seemed to be sure he and Geary were on the same side again.
A few days later the shoe dropped, though it would be a while before Geary realized it had happened.
“The task force is back from Midway,” Captain Desjani told him from where she was on the bridge. “It’s bigger than when it left. You’ve a message from Captain Jane Geary that was sent on their arrival.”
Geary got out of his bunk quickly, wondering what Desjani could mean. His stateroom display quickly supplied an answer.
The task force contained four more battleships, four more battle cruisers, seven more heavy cruisers, and twenty more destroyers than it had set out with. The new ships, rather than being mixed in with the older ships, were in a separate formation.
He didn’t want to analyze all of this alone. Settling his uniform, Geary headed for the bridge.
“Jane has gained a lot of new ships,” Desjani noted as she gazed at her display.
“I noticed. Why are they in a separate formation?” Jane Geary’s ships were arrayed in a wide box. But the new ships formed a spherical formation far enough from the others to make it clear that they were not part of the other force. “Who are they?”
“Ship identification broadcasts show them as Improved Audacious-class battleships,” Lieutenant Castries called out. “Audacious, Implacable, Defiant, and Paladin. The battle cruisers are Improved Renown-class. Renown, Intrepid, Invincible, and Fearless.”
“Improved,” Geary muttered, wondering why hearing that bothered him. It was natural for ship designs to be modified, incorporating lessons from earlier designs and experience in battle. But while he had managed to get his ships overhauled, very little in the way of modifications had come their way even though they had been bearing so much of the burden of carrying out fleet missions. “Do we know exactly what ‘improved’ means?”
Desjani glanced at him. “From what we’re getting on them it looks like mostly marginal improvements to shield strength and weapons.”
“Fine. Why did they have to name them after ships we’ve lost in battle?”
Desjani had looked away, but now focused on him again, surprised. “We’re used to that. It became common during the war, because so many ships were being destroyed.”
“All right.” He’d been told that plenty of times before, but didn’t want to discuss how seeing those names evoked for him those who had died aboard them, unwelcome reminders of how many casualties this fleet had suffered since he’d assumed command. “I didn’t realize we were still building at this rate.”
“Roberto Duellos was saying some of the planned cutbacks were reversed because star systems didn’t want to lose all of the space-dock jobs depending on new warship construction. But I don’t think even he realized this much was still being built.” She sighed. “They built another Invincible. Of course they did.”
Geary confined his response to a nod. During the war, a superstition had developed in the fleet that ships named Invincible were bad luck because the living stars didn’t like that humans were claiming something they built couldn’t be destroyed. And Invincibles really had been hard-luck ships, with average service lives before being lost in battle that were shorter than those of other battle cruisers. But, as Desjani had noted, the fleet brass refused to give in to the superstition and instead kept naming new ships Invincible as fast as the old ones were destroyed. It made the fleet leadership happy, even if it made everyone assigned to an Invincible feel like their lives were even more imperiled than those on other warships.
But he realized he should be focusing on the question of why the new ships were in a separate, different formation. That was odd. “You said we’ve already received a message from Jane?”
Desjani gestured. “It’s ready for you.”
He accepted the message, seeing the image of his grandniece seated in her stateroom aboard the battleship Dreadnaught. “I’m happy to report the mission to Midway was carried out without any losses,” Jane Geary reported. “The enigmas had minimal forces in Lalotai when we passed through en route Midway. We encountered no enigma presence at Pele except a single picket ship that remained near the jump point to Hina. On our return trip there were substantial enigma forces in Lalotai but they did not attempt to close on us, standing off at a distance of one light hour until we jumped out of the system.
“After we delivered Kommodor Bradamont’s report to President Iceni, she approved using Midway’s hypernet gate to send Mistral with the warning to Alliance space. President Iceni sends her thanks for alerting Midway and their, um, associated star systems of the dangers posed by the jump drive modifications. It seems that same technology had mysteriously been ‘discovered’ in a nearby star system and there was debate going on as to whether to attempt the jumps.”
Captain Jane Geary paused. “Just before Mistral entered the hypernet gate, a large formation of Alliance warships arrived through it. Captain Constantine Rogov on Implacable informed me that the ships were under his command. Captain Rogov, who is junior to me, refused to place his ships under my command, saying he was acting under orders of General Arnold Julian, who is aboard Implacable. I was told General Julian is bringing additional orders for you.
“Unless instructed otherwise my force will proceed to a rendezvous with the rest of the fleet. I do not have control of the new ships commanded by Captain Rogov and am unsure as to their intentions. To the honor of our ancestors, Geary, out.”
Desjani raised her eyebrows as the message ended. “ ‘I am unsure as to their intentions’? That’s a pretty blatant red flag.”
Before he could comment in turn, another message arrived, this one from Implacable. Captain Constantine Rogov was not a large man, but he carried himself as if he were three meters tall. Geary, trying to decide whether that reflected laudable confidence or dangerous self-assurance, studied Rogov intently as he spoke.
“This is Captain Rogov, notifying Admiral Geary of my forces’ arrival in this star system. We are conveying General Julian to you in order to deliver critical new orders, and will proceed to orbit near Boundless. To the honor of our ancestors! Rogov, out.”
Desjani sat back, raising her eyebrows once more. “He’s notifying you of his arrival, not reporting to you? And telling us what he’ll do instead of outlining his initial actions and requesting further instructions?”
“Do you know anything about him? Rogov?” Geary said, trying to decide on the right response.
“Rogov? No, not really. I barely know the name.”
“What about this General Julian?” Geary called up data on the name. “Malphas Star System. He was in command there not long before I was found in survival sleep.”
“Malphas?” Desjani shook her head, looking unhappy.
“Should I read the details?”
“Only if you want to. Officially, Malphas was an Alliance victory.”
“And unofficially?” Geary asked, afraid that he already knew the answer.
“Unofficially it’s called Bloody Malphas.” She gave him a sidelong look. “The word going around before you were found was that our losses at Malphas were so bad they helped motivate the Senate to approve Admiral Bloch’s desperation plan to strike the Syndic capital star system. We know how that turned out.”
Geary squinted at the data. “If Julian was in command of that big of a disaster, why is he here doing something important?”
“Probably because Malphas was officially a victory.”
“He got a medal?” Geary said in astonishment as he read. “Why would the Senate have chosen Julian to bring me new orders?”
“Don’t ask me,” Desjani said. “I don’t pal around with senators like you do.”
He couldn’t do anything about General Julian, but he could about Captain Rogov. “Where’s a good place to park Rogov and his ships?”
“How about here?” Desjani suggested, highlighting an area beneath the main formation. “That’s a good spot while you wait to decide whether to distribute them throughout the formation.”
“Yes. I like that.” Tapping the reply command, Geary spoke like someone who knew his orders would be followed. “Captain Rogov, this is Admiral Geary. Boundless is not the guide ship for this formation. You and the ships under your command are to proceed to intercept the main formation, taking position as indicated relative to Dauntless. If you are carrying orders for me, that will place you in a better location to deliver them. I expect a full, standard arrival status report from you covering all of your ships. Geary, out.”
“Rogov ought to feel that burn,” Desjani murmured.
“Did you say something, Captain?”
“No, Admiral. Not a thing.” She gave him a sidelong look. “If I may, it might be a good idea to send a personal message to Captain Geary on Dreadnaught asking her why she included that ‘unsure of their intentions’ thing in her arrival report to you.”
“Another good idea,” Geary said. He stood up. It would be several hours before he could receive any reply from Captain Rogov. “I’m going back to my stateroom to send a personal message.”
JANE Geary’s reply came before Captain Rogov’s, which didn’t do anything to further endear Geary to Rogov.
“Admiral,” Jane said, remaining formal since this was an official, even though personal, communication, “I can’t offer any specific concerns regarding Captain Rogov and his ships. More than anything else, it’s been his attitude, which from the beginning with me was borderline insubordinate, as if he didn’t need to worry about obeying orders from me. His communications have also implied some sort of special secrets to which he is privy. It’s probably related to the presence of General Julian on his ship. I never received any communications directly from the general, which is a bit odd as well, and haven’t received any clues as to what his orders for you might be.”
Jane took a moment to order her thoughts. “I used a back channel to speak with an officer I know aboard the new Intrepid. We’d served together a couple of years ago. He definitely had an attitude of anticipation and told me something big was coming before asking me not to mention that to anyone else.
“Oh, one other thing. I was giving Captain Rogov a rundown on how the Dancers did things with us, and Rogov gave me a brush-off. He didn’t outright say he didn’t care how the Dancers operated, but that was the impression he gave. This again struck me as odd for someone given command of a substantial force being sent into Dancer territory. If my task force hadn’t happened to meet up with them at Midway, they would’ve encountered the Dancers on their own. Again, not a smoking gun. For all they knew, the fleet was still in that Dancer border star system we first jumped into. It still struck me as just . . . odd. You asked me for my impressions, and that’s what they are. I hope I’m just being overly cautious. Geary, out.”
He sat looking at his display for a long time, trying to think things through. But he didn’t know enough to come up with any conclusions.
While he was there, Captain Rogov’s reply finally arrived.
“This is Captain Constantine Rogov for Admiral Geary. I regret that I was unclear in my earlier transmission and apologize for the misunderstanding. The orders I was given to deliver require me to rendezvous with Boundless. Once that is done, and after General Julian provides you with your new orders, I will of course be under your command. Rogov, out.”
There wasn’t anything he could object to in that. But it still bothered Geary. Now that he’d been sensitized to it by Jane’s message, Geary thought he felt in Rogov the same anticipation, the same sense of eagerness, that she had mentioned. Was that just his imagination?
In any case, it wasn’t grounds for fighting the issue or attacking Rogov. He would have to wait to see what Rogov was like once he joined with the rest of the fleet.
“Admiral?”
“General Charban,” Geary said, looking at where Charban stood in the stateroom door. “What brings you here? Not another invitation for me from the Dancers, I hope.”
“It’s the Dancers,” Charban said, coming inside. “But not an invitation.” He grimaced. “They’ve sent us a message which, boiled down to basics, expresses unhappiness with these reinforcements to your fleet. The Dancers want to know why we’ve brought more warships here. Lieutenant Jamenson thinks they are also hinting we should send some away. They’re not happy.”
“I’m not exactly thrilled myself,” Geary said. “I can’t tell the Dancers why those new ships are here because I don’t know myself. They’re supposedly bringing me new orders.”
Charban looked like a man trying not to frown and not quite succeeding. “Orders carried by General Arnold Julian? Is that right?”
“Yes.” Geary examined Charban. “Do you know Julian?”
“I’ve never been closely acquainted with him,” Charban said. “Our paths did cross a few times.”
“Then please tell me what you’re trying to avoid saying.”
Charban smiled slightly. “Julian struck me as the sort of person who never doubts their own special destiny or their own decisions. Other officers joked he suffered from G—” Charban choked off the word he’d been about to say, looking uncomfortable again.
“Were you going to say ‘Geary Syndrome’?” Geary asked.
“I was.”
He’d never expected to have a syndrome named after him, but then it hadn’t really been named after him. It had been named after the Black Jack Geary the government had created, the perfect hero, the perfect officer, the one who legend said would someday return from the dead to save the Alliance. As the war with the Syndicate Worlds had dragged on for decade after decade, Geary had been told that more than one senior officer had decided they were that person, that perfect officer, the one fated to save the Alliance. Enough senior officers that it had become an official medical disorder.
One of the odder things he’d experienced since waking from nearly a century of survival sleep had been having a fleet doctor wonder if he himself was suffering from the malady named after himself.
And, in truth, there were still some who believed the imaginary Geary who’d inspired Geary Syndrome was the real one.
Geary smiled crookedly at Charban to show he wasn’t offended and could see the perverse humor in the situation. “Do you have any idea why they’d have sent Julian to deliver orders to me?”
Charban shrugged. “Perhaps just to get him out of their hair for a while?”
“I hope you’re right.” Geary rested his head in his hands, thinking. “I’m going to talk to Ambassador Rycerz about the Dancers’ concerns. Do you have any idea what we should tell them?”
“Vague reassurances?” Charban suggested.
“I’ll see what Rycerz wants to say.”
AS it turned out, Ambassador Rycerz shared the Dancers’ unhappiness. “Why did they send you all of these new warships? It looks bad, like we’re planning something aggressive.”
“I don’t know why they were sent,” Geary said for the third time. “I have not asked for reinforcements since we left Alliance space. I don’t even know if they’re going to be added to the force I have, or go home once these orders are delivered.”
Rycerz eventually promised to try to reassure the Dancers. They had to leave it at that until Rogov’s task force reached the fleet.
Which would be quicker than expected, since the new task force had made a show of ramping up velocity quickly past point two light speed. It made for a flashy approach, but one that unnecessarily wasted fuel cells, and one that further lowered his opinion of Captain Rogov before he’d even met the officer face-to-face.
Unless Rogov had a good reason for wanting to get those orders to Geary as quickly as possible. That possibility only increased the feeling of vague unease Geary felt whenever he checked on the progress of the new ships.
Tomorrow Rogov’s ships would join up, and he’d learn what was in those orders.