Dreadnaught

“Some of you may know me,” General Charban suggested. “I can assure you that the government and headquarters placed Admiral Geary firmly in command.”

“As if we care for what either one does,” someone called out.

Another outburst, hundreds of voices being shut off so that images of high-ranking officers yelled silently at each other.

Tulev looked at Geary, speaking on a private circuit. “This is unmanageable. You could spend weeks speaking with them and get nowhere.”

Carabali nodded. “Too many alphas in one fleet. You’d be best off packing them all on Haboob and disabling all the comm systems.”

“Seconded,” Desjani’s voice sounded in his ear.

Geary looked at Charban and Rione. “What are the government’s wishes?”

She looked back at him. “I have no instructions for disposition of freed prisoners.”

Charban spread his hands. “I have none, either.”

Geary switched to a private circuit with just those two on it with him. “The government ordered us to liberate this bunch. I was ordered to bring the fleet here. Why? What do they want with them? Why did we need to pick them up before proceeding into alien space?”

“I have no instructions,” Rione repeated, her expression unyielding.

That did it. “Then I consider this a matter that must be dealt with using my authority. Neither of you is an elected official. Under Alliance law, outside of Alliance territory, a fleet commander has authority over civilians who work for the government or anyone contracted to the government. You and General Charban are hereby assigned to act as primary liaisons with the freed prisoners. You two are their first points of contact, and you two will attempt to resolve any and all issues concerning them. I will be informed of any actions posing a threat to the fleet or violating regulations or Alliance law. Otherwise, the government wanted them, so the government can have them.”

He looked down the table again as Charban stared at Geary, aghast, and Rione reddened slightly but otherwise remained impassive. Keying his override, Geary spoke to all of the prisoners. “Thank you for your sacrifices and service to the Alliance. Governmental emissaries Rione and Charban will now be your primary points of contact on all matters. I look forward to your safe return to Alliance space.” By the living stars, do I look forward to that. “Thank you. To the honor of our ancestors.”

Cutting himself, Carabali, and Tulev out of the conference, so their presences disappeared as far as everyone else was concerned, Geary left the compartment.

He spent a while roaming the passageways, not wanting to be alone with his thoughts in his stateroom and too restless to sit anywhere. Stopping to talk with some sailors as they worked was comfortingly familiar, as if the century he had lost had never been. The equipment might be different, but sailors were always sailors.

Tanya ran him down at one point, walking beside him silently for a while before speaking. “Giving them to the emissaries was brilliant, but it’s not really a solution, you know.”

“I know. Some of them could still make major trouble.”

“Your grip on the fleet is much, much stronger than it was when Falco made his moves. Plus, you’ve been formally appointed to command instead of being an acting commander. And as far as we know, none of the current ship captains are working against you.”

“As far as we know,” Geary agreed.

He had no chance to say more as Rione appeared, coming down the same passageway with a clear intent to intercept them.

Rione came right up to them and stopped in their path. “Admiral, I need to speak with you.”

“You and General Charban can sort out how to—”

“It’s not about that.” She took a deep breath, seeming to fumble for words for a moment, something unusual enough that Desjani’s frown took on a different cast. “My—Commander Benan. He has been told . . . about events concerning you and me . . . in the past.”

From somewhere in Geary’s mind one question arose. “Are you in danger?”

“No! Not me.”

“Not you.” That left one other person.

But Rione shook her head. “I don’t think he would—”

Hearing a sudden hiss of breath from Desjani, Geary looked up to see Commander Benan walking steadily toward him.

NINE

DESJANI took a step forward, putting herself between Benan and both Geary and Rione. “Is there a problem, Commander?”

“I must speak with . . . the admiral.” Paol Benan’s face was deathly pale, his voice rough. “There is a matter of honor between us. I must—”

Desjani broke in, her voice sharp, at command tone and volume. “Commander Benan, are you aware of fleet regulations?”

Those fevered eyes turned on her. “I do not need to be lectured on regulations by—”

“Then you know what will happen if you continue on your current course,” Desjani said, her tone growing colder. “I will not have such a breach of discipline aboard my ship.”