The Lost Fleet: Beyond the Frontier: Guardian

“I’m glad,” Desjani said in a low voice.

“I have always wondered . . . you were the last to speak with him?”

“Yes. While he was alive.”

“What were his last words? Your letter didn’t specifically say, so I’ve wondered. It’s odd the things people latch onto. As a little girl, I noticed the letter didn’t say that, so . . . I’ve always wondered.”

Tanya gazed at Master Chief Milam’s daughter for a long moment before answering. “He told me that I only had about a minute.”

“Excuse me?” That was apparently not something that Greta Milam had expected to hear.

“He was at the power core on the Syndic heavy cruiser we had boarded,” Tanya said. “He was setting it to suffer a partial collapse. I was at one of the boarding tubes aboard the cruiser, engaging the Syndic boarding parties that were trying to get back to their own ship to stop us. He said . . . he said there were only six sailors left alive with him, and the Syndics were breaking into the compartment. He asked me to tell you, his family, that he had died with honor. I did. I told you what he had done. I told you he said that.”

Tanya looked away, composing herself, then back at Greta Milam. “I wished him an honored reception by the living stars, and then he told me to take any sailors left with me back to Fleche, that if we could make it back within the next minute, we might survive even though Fleche was a total wreck.”

“How many sailors was that?” Geary asked, feeling like an intruder into a place he did not belong.

“With me? Nine. We had started with a hundred. No. We had started with two hundred thirty-five. Only a hundred were left to fight when the Syndics boarded us.”

Greta Milam blinked back tears. “I have to confess to you, Captain, that I blamed you for a while. For living while my father died.”

“Don’t worry about that,” Desjani replied. “I did the same.”

“But I’ve already talked to some of the others who survived. They said you all expected to die. It was a miracle some of you made it back off the Syndic heavy cruiser. But they said you did that. If not for you, my father would have died anyway, and the Syndics would have won the whole battle, and no one would have ever known how my father died. Because of you, he got the chance to die doing something that everyone will remember, and we all were allowed to know what he had done. I wanted to thank you and beg your forgiveness for ever blaming you.”

Desjani nodded slowly. “Of course. I . . . often wish I could have saved him as well. He saved me and the rest.”

“It’s a tangled web, isn’t it?” Greta Milam said. “Who owes whom what. But the war is over now. We can be grateful for that.”

“Sailors are still dying.”

Greta Milam stayed silent for several seconds. “I did not mean to sound as if that didn’t matter.”

Desjani grimaced and shook her head. “I’m sorry. It’s still hard to remember that day. I don’t . . . talk about it.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. Your father . . . I could not have ordered him to do what he did. I would not have. He chose to sacrifice himself so that many others could live, and I am certain his last living thoughts were of you and your mother.”

Milam bent her head in an unsuccessful attempt to hide tears, then rose. “I should go. Thank you. This . . . this is something I wanted badly. Thank you.”

But Milam paused as Desjani led the way out of her stateroom, her eyes on the plaque near the hatch. “My father’s name is on that. Are . . . are all of these friends of yours who have died?”

“Yes,” Tanya said in a low voice. “I don’t forget any of them.”

After Milam had left in the care of Master Chief Gioninni, resplendent in his dress uniform to honor the daughter of a deceased Master Chief, Desjani sat down again. “That was hard.”

“Now I know something about the fight where you earned the Fleet Cross,” Geary said.

“I didn’t earn it. Master Chief Milam did. I don’t know why I got it, too.” She took a deep breath, closing her eyes tightly as if in pain. “Did I ever tell you about my dream after that action?” Desjani asked abruptly.

He shook his head. “No. You’ve never told me anything about it, or after it.”

“Look, I give you permission to call up the official record of the action if you want to. I’m not going to talk about it. But you deserve to know . . .”

“You had some dream?” Geary prompted.

She was looking steadily at the deck, avoiding his eyes. “I was . . . stressed. My ship destroyed, the crew almost wiped out, hand-to-hand fighting . . . I wasn’t in very good shape. They gave me some meds to make me sleep. I dreamed. I dreamed I saw you sleeping.”

“What?”

Her head came up, eyes catching his, daring him to disbelieve, to question what she said. “I saw you sleeping. I knew it was you. Black Jack.”

“Me? You saw me?”