Valiant

Geary felt his teeth clench at the thought. “I can’t tell you how much I appreciate their willingness to participate in the operation despite that chance, Colonel. I’ve warned the Syndics not to try anything like that, and warned what will happen to them if they do. Their escape pods can’t outrun our ships.”

The Marine colonel bared her teeth. “Thank you, sir.”

“Thank you, Colonel. Let me know if anything significant about the plan changes.” Carabali’s image vanished, and Geary leaned back with a sigh.

“Another crisis averted?” Rione asked.

“Dealt with, anyway,” Geary responded. “Have you heard anything I should know about now?”

She gave him an arch look, knowing he was referring to her spies within the fleet. “Nothing that can’t wait.” Rione hesitated, then stood up and walked close enough to speak softly. “Only a few of my agents have been able to get quick reports to me. They all say that those opposed to you were thrown off completely by your decision to return immediately to Lakota. Your opponents are now apparently waiting to see what happens before preparing their next moves.”

“Thank you. What do you think? How does it all feel to you?”

“You want my advice?” Rione asked coldly. “Why not ask your flagship’s captain again?”

Oh, for the love of my ancestors. “I ask her questions about fleet operations. Is there something wrong with that?”

“Of course not,” Rione replied in tones that implied the opposite, then answered his first question without missing a beat. “Your enemies in the fleet are quiet and waiting. Until the situation in this star system is resolved, they won’t act for fear that they themselves will be stuck trying to handle a dangerous Syndic trap.”

Geary nodded, keeping his thoughts to himself. If I fail, they have what they need to push for my replacement as fleet commander. Not that there’s likely to be much of the fleet left to command if I fail. And apparently none of them want to try overcoming the Syndic presence in this star system.

His eyes went to the display, looking again for what ought to be there by now. Still no Syndic pursuit force arriving via the jump point for Ixion. Geary’s fingers drummed restlessly on one arm of his command seat. Why hadn’t the pursuit shown up yet? They’d been in this star system for well over two hours now. Every additional minute was a gift, but he distrusted gifts that came for reasons he didn’t understand. While he had told Rione of his hope for three hours’ grace time and had been praying for that much, he’d actually assumed it would be less than two hours before the leading elements of the Syndic pursuit appeared. Even allowing for time needed to reorganize the Syndic flotillas, then to turn around at Ixion once they discovered the Alliance fleet had jumped back here, a decent pursuit should already have shown up in Lakota again.

Another high-priority message, this one from Ocrea, thirty light-seconds distant, which would make for a slow but not intolerable conversation. Geary wondered why the heavy cruiser would be calling him, then remembered that he’d asked that ship to pick up and interrogate some Syndics. “Geary here. Did any of the Syndics talk?”

Ocrea’s captain nodded. “One did. Most of them just parroted the usual Syndic nonsense about it being a privilege to be a citizen of the Syndicate Worlds. But we got one senior enlisted who’s apparently decided that this fleet can’t be destroyed and that anyone trying is going against the will of the living stars. So he’s spilling his guts about whatever he knows, thinking that’s the only way to atone for helping to attack us.” He paused for Geary’s reaction.

“I like that attitude,” Geary noted.

One minute later, Ocrea’s captain nodded. “Me, too, sir. This Syndic sailor doesn’t know much, but he did know that we took out the Syndic flagship during our fight before the jump for Ixion. The senior Syndic CEO didn’t make it off alive, and that left two CEOs of lower-but-equal rank arguing over who would get to command the force pursuing us to Ixion. Our source can’t remember exactly how long, but he said it was at least four hours. Maybe even more than five, while the Syndic flotilla here hung around doing nothing.” The other officer paused for Geary’s reply.

“At least four hours?” Geary questioned. He’d targeted the center of the Syndic formation hoping for that, but hadn’t known if he’d succeeded. “That sailor is certain?”