Implacable, page 27
“I need to have someone Tyminska knows talk to her.” Geary pointed at Orvis, then toward the image of Boundless on the display over his desk. “Someone she might listen to, who can find out how much Tyminska and the rest of Webb’s people know about what’s really going on.”
“You think she might agree to help us?” Sergeant Orvis frowned heavily, taking on the aspect of someone about to say something difficult. “Admiral, I wouldn’t count on it. There’s a lot of unit loyalty involved in something like that.”
Master Chief Gioninni nodded. “Special forces units tend to be really tight.”
“Normally,” Geary said. “But you both know what’s gone on aboard Boundless. Colonel Webb’s witch hunts. He did a lot of damage to the cohesion of his own unit. Maybe enough damage. If his own people’s trust in Webb has been battered badly enough, maybe Tyminska will listen to you. I’m going to be trying to get through to Webb. Based on his actions when dealing with problems within the fleet, I don’t think he was in on whatever General Julian is doing.
“Even if all you can do is confirm that it’s only Webb’s people controlling Boundless, that they haven’t been reinforced by any soldiers Julian brought, that will be extremely valuable.”
“Got it, Admiral.”
“Is there any room for deals?” Gioninni asked hopefully.
Geary sat back, resting his chin on one fist as he regarded the master chief. “Yes. Our goal is to resolve everything without any combat, without anyone getting hurt. If someone is willing to cut a deal, I want to know about it.”
“I got you, Admiral,” Gioninni said. “And I won’t need any piece of any deal. Just knowing you’re grateful for my assistance in difficult circumstances, and might help me out if I ever got brought up on charges for something I’d never do.”
“Let’s see what you can swing, Master Chief,” Geary said.
* * *
HE couldn’t take anything for granted.
When General Julian’s ships were five light seconds behind Geary’s main fleet in their orbit about the star, they accelerated just enough to once again match velocity to the fleet and remain at that distance.
Geary roamed the passageways of Dauntless, trying his best to get a personal feel for how the sailors were reacting to the crisis.
They were understandably worried. But they also seemed ready and willing to continue following the orders of the officers who were following orders from Geary.
As Desjani said, they trusted him. They believed in him.
It should have been a nice thing to know, but instead it reinforced something he’d tried to deny ever since he’d assumed command of the fleet. Because, as far as he could tell, these sailors would’ve followed his orders even under much different circumstances.
What he was doing now was something many had feared he would do after being found and awakened, something that many others had hoped he would do. Black Jack, they thought, would use his enormous popularity and heroic reputation, ironically created by the government itself, to overthrow that government. “Fixing” the Alliance by shredding its founding principles. “Saving” the Alliance by destroying it.
Had this been inevitable ever since that day he found himself aboard Dauntless, being told that he’d been frozen in survival sleep for nearly a century in a damaged escape pod? Still reeling from the destruction of his heavy cruiser Merlon and the deaths of many of her crew in a legendary battle which to him had happened only the day before. Trying to grasp that everyone he’d once known was long dead in subsequent battles or just from old age. Trying to understand the awe and admiration and hope with which these people born long after his supposed death looked at him.
Being told by Victoria Rione exactly what those people expected of him.
What he was doing now was what Rione had been afraid Black Jack would do. Would she approve of this, though? Because if his suspicions were right and those orders were false, he wasn’t acting against the government.
On the other hand, if those orders were authentic, if the Senate really had approved such actions, then Rione would agree that Black Jack had no Alliance left to save. It was already dead. And he would not serve the corpse of those dead dreams as it flailed about, killing those it had once served.
Not entirely by chance, he found himself near the worship spaces. He got in line to wait for one to be free, listening to the talk among the others waiting their turn. These sailors were more anxious, wanting to consult with their ancestors or beg them for guidance or help.
If he ordered them to attack Rogov’s ships, Geary thought most would obey. Maybe. Maybe not. He couldn’t let it come to that.
His turn finally came, Geary entering one of the small rooms and taking a seat on the plain wooden bench along one side. Before him a candle sat, ready to be lit with one of the matches. Setting the candle alight, he sat looking at the flame, letting his thoughts drift, finding them repeatedly veering back to his ancestor Rob Geary, the first Geary to come to Glenlyon.
In the past, he’d never thought that much about Rob Geary. Family lore limited his role on early Glenlyon to some time spent protecting the planet as part of an improvised space defense force. In fact, Geary had not long ago learned that his ancestor had played a critical role in defending Glenlyon and Kosatka, Tanya Desjani’s home star system. But his reputation had been badly damaged during the last attack on Glenlyon, when Rob Geary had refused to sacrifice his ship and crew in a hopeless attack, knowing that he would be blamed for “doing nothing” even though his ship had been the only thing limiting the invaders’ ability to act.
He could have been a gloriously dead hero of early Glenlyon. Instead, he chose to do the right thing, and paid the price for that. I guess we Gearys tend to be stubborn that way, Geary thought.
Almost exiled, Rob Geary had helped stand up the beginnings of the Alliance fleet, pulling together warships hastily acquired from places like Old Earth, which had been disbanding the fabled Earth Fleet. Star systems which had jealously guarded their independence had been willing to cooperate in providing forces for the Alliance, knowing that would protect them all.
Something about that thought teased at Geary, as if it mattered more than as a piece of old history. But whatever it was didn’t come forward, leaving his thoughts free to drift again.
Rob Geary must have also played a role in drafting the regulations guiding the new Alliance fleet. Had he helped write Article 16? Were his own actions today bringing his ancestor’s work full circle, employing the rule which his ancestor might have helped create?
If that was what was happening, did his ancestors approve? Would Rob Geary tell him he was doing the right thing?
Was the candle flame before him much brighter now, growing larger? Or was that just his imagination seeking validation?
It didn’t seem right to ask for miracles.
Help me make the right decisions.
* * *
THE next day, Captain Rogov’s ships started powering up their hell lances. Those ships had already strengthened their shields to near maximum.
“It sure looks like they’re preparing to attack,” Captain Desjani observed.
Geary was once again on the bridge of Dauntless, not because he needed to be there but because he needed to be seen there, handling the crisis where everyone could see. “They won’t.”
Captain Badaya called in. “This is another bluff, Admiral. I can feel it.”
“I agree with you. We won’t respond.”
Desjani shook her head as she leaned back in her captain’s seat. “When did Badaya start thinking about things before charging in all out?”
“He’s probably been watching you and learning,” Geary said.
“Oh, yeah, that’s it.” She gave him an inquiring look. “Are we going to do anything? I’m thinking it might not hurt to broadcast to Rogov’s ships that we’re not matching their moves.”
“I have something I recorded to broadcast to them,” Geary said. “No time like the present.”
He’d given a lot of thought to it, wanting to avoid threats. “This is Admiral Geary. This message is addressed to the officers and crews of the Alliance warships currently responding to orders from General Julian. You were told that the orders General Julian brought were written at my urging. That I approved of those courses of action. That’s not true. I have never proposed or supported any of the actions contained in those orders. I did not ask for those orders to be written. In fact, it is my firm belief that they are false, created to fool loyal personnel into believing the Alliance expects its people to carry out actions that are contrary to the Alliance’s oldest beliefs.”
He went on, telling everyone on those ships that he had invoked Article 16, explaining his reasoning, urging them to not act against their fellow Alliance sailors on other ships, telling them that they also had the same responsibilities under Article 16 that he did.
The broadcast was surely jammed as soon as Rogov and Julian saw it, but there were ways for junior officers and the enlisted sailors to get access to content that was supposedly banned. Geary hoped they’d use those methods.
What else could he do?
Geary called his ships. “If anyone knows anybody on those new ships, someone from home, someone you trained with, someone you served with on another ship, try to get through to them using any means available. Talk to them. Let them know they have an option. Let them know nothing will happen to anyone who in good faith followed orders they thought were legitimate.”
The only problem with such tactics was that they might take a very long time to bear fruit. Did he have that time?
* * *
STALEMATE. He couldn’t make any new moves. Neither could Julian or Rogov. How long would it be before someone made a mistake, did something that was misinterpreted and resulted in ships firing on each other? How long would the Dancers wait before they did something that might trigger conflict between the Alliance ships? Even a Dancer ship coming too close to the Alliance formation might set off a nasty fight.
The two sides had been facing off for four days now. Aside from broadcasting messages at each other’s ships, they had remained passive. Even General Julian, it seemed, didn’t want to trigger a war between Alliance ships. Not when he had no hope of winning it, anyway.
“Admiral?”
Geary tried not to get his hopes up when Gunnery Sergeant Orvis and Master Chief Gioninni showed up at his stateroom. “Any luck?”
Gunny Orvis twisted his face up a bit. “Not exactly, Admiral. We did learn a few things. We finally got through to Sergeant Tyminska, Admiral. She was willing to talk. Things are pretty bad over there.”
Master Chief Gioninni nodded. “Twenty-one soldiers trying to keep a lid on everybody aboard a ship the size of Boundless. They’re being run ragged.”
“Standing duty four hours on, two off,” Orvis said. “Ever since Webb took over the ship per orders from General Julian. The only way they’ve kept going is through plenty of Up meds.”
“According to Tyminska,” Gioninni added, “morale has disappeared beneath an event horizon. But they’re still following orders.”
“Webb’s people are being run that hard?” Geary asked. “They’re still the only soldiers aboard Boundless?”
“That’s right, Admiral,” Orvis said.
“Were you able to find out why Webb hasn’t requested reinforcements from General Julian? Or has Webb requested them and been turned down?” If that had happened, it would mean Julian’s resources were already stretched as far as they could go maintaining control of the warships under Captain Rogov’s command.
“Sergeant Tyminska wasn’t sure whether or not her colonel had requested reinforcements,” Gunny Orvis said. “She thinks Colonel Webb isn’t too happy about this whole thing, and doesn’t want to surrender control to Julian, which is what’ll happen if a bunch more troops come aboard Boundless. But that’s just Tyminska’s impression of things.”
“Did you ask her what would happen if we came aboard Boundless to regain control?” Geary asked.
“Yes, Admiral, I did.” Orvis shook his head slowly. “Tyminska said they’d fight. She wouldn’t even consider helping us get Marines aboard, or helping stir up trouble for Colonel Webb. As far as her unit is concerned, they’re family. And she’s positive all the rest of her unit feels the same way. That’s what she said. None of them are happy with what’s going on. But they’ll all fight if they’re pushed.”
“She wouldn’t talk deals,” Master Chief Gioninni said, appearing mildly scandalized that someone would refuse to bargain over anything. “One other piece of bad news, though. Tyminska also said the civilians on Boundless are not happy, and they’re starting to push back against the soldiers. Little stuff, mostly, so far. But it’s escalating. She’s worried about that, because the longer those ground pounders are on Up meds the more wired they’ll get.”
Orvis nodded grimly. “Restive civilians and armed soldiers is trouble anywhere and anywhen. When the soldiers are nervous wrecks, it’s just a matter of time before people get shot up.”
And, Geary thought, if any of Webb’s soldiers shot civilians, there wouldn’t be any way they could be pardoned if they surrendered, which would make them that much less likely to be talked into surrendering. It added another layer of urgency to the situation, one more thing that couldn’t be allowed to fester much longer.
So far all the solutions he’d been offered would just make the problem worse. But now he knew continuing to do nothing was also making the problem worse. He had to do something. But what?
“Pass your information on to General Carabali,” Geary told Orvis and Gioninni. “Make sure she knows everything you told me, and if she asks for you to try to find out more, do what you can.”
* * *
THREE hours later, General Carabali asked to speak with Geary.
She took a shuttle to Dauntless. Routine shuttle flights between ships had continued throughout the standoff, even though those shuttle paths coming within weapons range of the other side were nerve-racking. By unspoken mutual consent, neither side had fired on the other’s shuttles. But that was one more thing that might fall apart at any time.
Geary welcomed Carabali to his stateroom, gesturing to a seat. “Have you got anything for me? I’d be happy to hear even bad options at this point.”
General Carabali sat carefully. She clenched one hand into a fist, raising it to her mouth, before lowering it again and meeting Geary’s gaze. “Admiral, you asked me how we can resolve the situation on Boundless without causing a violent reaction aboard that ship and elsewhere among Alliance forces in this star system. The information Gunnery Sergeant Orvis provided confirmed what other sources have told me. Any attempt to regain control of Boundless by my Marines will result in Webb’s soldiers violently resisting. Webb’s soldiers have the means to spot my scouts in stealth suits, which would otherwise be our best hope to overwhelm them by surprise. There is only one course of action I can propose which offers the best chance of minimizing the possibility of Webb’s soldiers fighting. Not a certainty by any means. But the best chance.”
A way Carabali was clearly reluctant to state. “Something not involving your Marines? Go on,” Geary said.
“You, sir.” She turned her fist into two fingers pointed at him. “If you openly approach and board Boundless. Unarmed. And personally tell Webb and his soldiers to stand down. No one but Black Jack could do that and have a chance of success. And you, sir, are Black Jack.”
Geary tried not to let show his initial negative reaction to the suggestion. Was Carabali right? He realized that her advice sounded uncomfortably similar to what Victoria Rione might be telling him if she were still alive.
But it would mean exposing himself to capture, or assassination, by Webb’s soldiers. And Colonel Webb himself had been erratic at times. How would he react to such a situation?
If it was anyone else, even Carabali, Webb probably would just place them under arrest. But Black Jack was different. Rione had always insisted on reminding him that Black Jack was different. Even Tanya Desjani had told him more than once that Black Jack in many ways had become the Alliance, a symbol of what was supposed to be right about it. That was what had allowed him to convince so many warships to follow his lead in rejecting the orders General Julian had brought.
Now that might also mean walking off a shuttle unarmed and unprotected to face a group of strung-out, trigger-happy soldiers commanded by a colonel suspicious of everyone.
General Carabali was waiting, not saying anything.
He’d always insisted that his life wasn’t more important than anyone else’s.
Had he meant that? Or had it been a way for a senior officer to deal with the guilt of how many had died following his orders?
There were other reasons to be worried about the suggestion, though. “If something happened to me, what would happen to resistance against General Julian?”
Carabali frowned. “I can’t predict that with absolute certainty, Admiral. I do know if soldiers responding to General Julian’s orders are responsible for attacking you, it would guarantee that no one in the forces currently commanded by you would follow any direction from Julian.” She shrugged uncomfortably. “It might generate immediate demands for revenge. An all-out assault on the forces loyal to Julian that would have only one outcome, Admiral. They’d be annihilated.”
“Alliance forces wiping out other Alliance forces,” Geary said.
“Yes, Admiral. It would bring all of that to a head.” Carabali spread her hands. “You asked me for any possible course of action that might prevent fighting. That is the only one I can think of. It comes with substantial risk, not only to you personally, but to the entire situation. It could trigger what we’ve been trying to avoid. But I do not think any better options exist. Even a forceful occupation of Boundless that miraculously didn’t result in casualties on either side would still likely trigger more fighting, which would very likely quickly escalate.”
