The Lost Fleet Beyond the Frontier Invincible

“No. I don’t think it’s guilt. I did nothing against him on purpose, and I had nothing to do with what the Syndics did to Benan when he was a captive.” Geary paused, thinking. “But he is one of my people, an officer under my command, who is suffering from some kind of injury. Nothing we have tried yet has helped much. One thing we have not tried is a private conversation with me. I need to do that.”

She nodded, one corner of her mouth twisted in a rueful smile. “Duty is a hard horse to ride. All right. I might feel the same obligation. And if something keeps telling you that you need to try this . . . Our ancestors often speak to us in muted voices. Maybe one of yours is trying to tell you what to do. But”—the half smile disappeared—“you’re not going to have that woman in there with you, are you?”

“No. Having Victoria Rione there would just emphasize one of the things between us.”

“She could also serve to restrain him if he flies off the handle. Admiral, you know as well as I do that if Benan says something to you that is contrary to regulations, you are obligated to act on that even if no one else knows about it.”

“I’m aware of that,” Geary said.

Desjani shook her head. “Fine. Were you planning to have this little chat in your stateroom?”

“That is a private—”

“It’s also where you and that woman spent a lot of time together. Remember?” Her voice roughened, but Desjani managed not to sound too angry at the thought. “Do you think Benan won’t be aware of that?”

Geary grimaced. “We’ll use a private conference room. Security-sealed.”

“And I’ll be outside the hatch. Along with that woman. If you hit the panic button in there, I’ll have the hatch open and be throwing her between you two before you can count to three.”

“All right, Captain.”

Rione hadn’t been any more enthusiastic about the idea than Desjani, but Geary had not relented. “Your instincts have been right often enough in battle,” Rione finally said. “And mine have been just as often wrong. Perhaps you will be right in this as well.”

Geary led Benan into the conference room, knowing that Desjani and Rione were just out of sight around a corner of the passageway and would come to stand by the hatch once it was closed.

Commander Benan stood rigidly by the table dominating the center of the room, his eyes wide like a trapped animal’s. “Sit down,” Geary said, realizing as he did so that the words had come out in the tones of an order.

Benan hesitated, his eyes fixed on the bulkhead before him, then sat rigidly in the nearest chair.

Geary sat down opposite Benan, keeping himself sitting erect, his hands resting on the table before him. There was nothing social about this meeting. It was purely professional. “Commander, you’ve been undergoing treatment since being liberated.”

Benan nodded his head in a jerky motion but said nothing.

“Medical is very concerned at your lack of progress.”

Another nod and continued silence.

“Is there anything I should know that is impacting your personal well-being, Commander? Anything that neither I nor medical staff is aware of?”

The commander’s eyes went to Geary, meeting the admiral’s gaze, something odd hidden inside those eyes. “There is nothing I can say.” It came out haltingly.

“Nothing you can say?” Geary felt a flash of anger. I’m trying to help. Why won’t he let me? “This isn’t a personal issue, no matter what you may think. It is professional. You are an officer under my authority, and I am responsible for your health and well-being.”

“There is nothing I can say,” Benan repeated, his words sounding mechanical now.

“I am the commander of this fleet,” Geary said, “and in that capacity and by that authority I hereby order you to tell me of anything that is complicating your medical treatment and recovery from prisoner-of-war conditions.”

Benan seemed to stop breathing for a moment, then his mouth worked several times before words came. “The fleet commander. As the fleet commander, you order me to speak. Please repeat that.”

“As the commander of this fleet I order you to speak,” Geary said again, wondering what was happening.

Looking around, Benan paused to swallow. “We are alone. There are no recording devices active here.”

“That is correct.”

“Damn!” Benan swallowed again, this time convulsively, shooting to his feet. “I can talk. I can talk.” He wavered where he stood.

“Sit down, Commander,” Geary ordered.

Benan dropped into the chair again, his face working with emotions that changed too rapidly to read. “Yes, there is something inhibiting my treatment. I don’t know how, but it must be responsible somehow. But I must explain. Do you know what I did, Admiral? Before the Syndics captured me?”

“You were a fleet officer,” Geary answered. “Your record is a good one. Reliable, courageous, smart.”

Benan gasped a short laugh. “That was who I used to be. Perhaps not the smart portion, though. No. A smart man wouldn’t have gotten involved in it.”

“Involved in what, Commander? The war?”