The Lost Fleet – Dauntless

He thought for another moment, thought about what that key would mean to the Alliance if it could be returned home. One more responsibility for the great hero to shoulder. “Let’s go meet the ship commanders.” People who looked like him but apparently didn’t quite think like him. How long would it take him to figure out the differences forged by a hundred years, a hundred years spent at war? He’d have to listen carefully to everything they said…“Wait. One more thing. A few moments ago, when you said we didn’t have any chance of defeating the Syndic fleet here, you started to say something else. What?”

Desjani looked uncomfortable, her eyes shifting to look past Geary. “I…I started to say that Black Jack himself couldn’t defeat this Syndic fleet. Sir.”

Black Jack himself couldn’t do it. The expression had the ring of something used all the time. For a moment, Geary couldn’t figure out how to respond to that. Then a twinge of self-mockery came to his rescue. “Well, Captain Desjani, we’d better hope you’re wrong about that, hadn’t we?”

She stared at him, then unexpectedly grinned. “Yes.”

Geary went inside. Desjani followed him into the room, then when he paused, she indicated one seat not far from the door. The conference room wasn’t all that large in reality. Geary had seen it with the conferencing systems off, just a moderately sized room with a moderately sized table to accommodate those who might actually sit in here. But with the systems on, as Geary came to his designated seat at the table, he saw it stretching out with scores of seats, each seat occupied by the commanding officer of a fleet ship. Geary couldn’t help staring a little at them, amazed at how each officer looked exactly like he or she was sitting here instead of on their own ships. As his eyes focused on each, their image came close, as if they were now sitting nearby, and a small tag popped up with their name and ship clearly identified. In the center of the table, easy to see from every seat, a large projection showed the disposition of the Alliance Fleet and of the Syndics. Virtual image technology had clearly improved during his long sleep.

I guess it’s a lot easier to hold meetings now. Geary took a moment to wonder if that was a good thing, or if that was one of the things which had sapped the spirit from the fleet. He stood at his seat, wondering if anyone should or would call everyone else to attention, but when that didn’t happen, he sat stiffly.

No one spoke. With the exception of Captain Desjani, who’d taken a real seat just to his left, every other officer was looking at him. Geary looked back at them, one by one, letting his gaze linger on each briefly before moving on. Some gazed back with carefully blank expressions, hiding their thoughts. A number of others held challenges in their eyes, plainly not receptive to Geary’s authority. But the majority stared at him with the desperation of the dying, praying for deliverance. To varying degrees, all of them seemed weary and worried.

Geary took a deep breath, deciding to deliberately avoid the informality he’d seen among this fleet in favor of the formal speech and actions he’d always known. “For those of you who haven’t met me, I am Captain John Geary. When Admiral Bloch left the Dauntless, he placed me in command of the fleet. I intend to carry out that responsibility to the best of my ability.” He wondered what his voice sounded like to them, what the words meant to them.

A woman who must be approaching retirement age gave Geary an acidic look. “Did Admiral Bloch provide any reason for that action?”

Geary frowned at her, feeling a slow glow of heat forming inside and welcoming the relief from the coldness he’d felt since being rescued. “I’m personally not accustomed to asking my superiors to provide me with reasons to justify their decisions.” A ripple ran through the ranks of the ship captains, but what it meant he couldn’t tell. “Admiral Bloch did, however, inform me that I was the senior officer in rank and length of service remaining with this fleet.”

The woman’s eyebrows shot upward. “Length of service? Are you serious?”

“Are you suggesting we compare dates of rank, Captain…” he looked at the identifying tag floating near her, “Captain Faresa?”

“That would be meaningless, as you are aware.”

“No, I am not aware.” Geary let the growing heat enter his voice. “If this fleet begins picking and choosing which rank and seniority factors matter, it will dissolve into chaos, and you will all die.”

A moment of silence followed before another officer broke in. Captain Numos of the Orion, Geary saw. “Are you suggesting you can somehow offer us salvation? There are only two options available to us as a fleet, Captain. We die fighting, or submit to, at best, living slavery and slower death.”

Geary found himself smiling wearily. “I can die fighting. I imagine it’s easier the second time around.”

Captain Duellos, of the Courageous, laughed. “Very good, Captain Geary! If that’s our fate-”