The Lost Fleet: Beyond the Frontier: Invincible (20 page)

How could they give decent burials to that many enemy dead, especially when many of the bodies weren’t intact but blown into pieces?

But they had to get them out of the ship, or, within a few days, it would turn into an unlivable hell.

“General, we’ll treat them as best we know how. Working parties will have to collect the enemy dead. Fleet medical will want to retain some specimens; but otherwise, they are to be gathered at one of the cargo docks. A service will be said each time the dock is full, then the bodies will be ejected en masse on a trajectory aimed at the star, and we’ll start filling the dock again.”

“Yes, sir. It would help if we could get sailors to assist in those working parties. It’s not a pleasant job, and there’s a lot to collect.”

Geary shook his head, looking at the fleet status readouts. “General, every sailor I’ve got is working almost around the clock either repairing their own ship or on tiger teams assisting other ships. I have to give priority to getting my ships as combat-ready as possible as soon as possible.” What other resources did he have? The senior officers rescued from the Syndic labor camp on Dunai. The Syndic citizens rescued from the enigma race. There weren’t that many of either, but it was something. “I will ask for volunteers among our two groups of passengers to assist in the cleanup and will see if the auxiliaries have any equipment that can handle the task on its own.”

Carabali let her disappointment show but nodded. “I do understand. No one is taking it easy right now. But even a few personnel besides Marines assisting in the task would be welcome.”

“I’ll have someone there, General.”

It took nearly two days of careful exploring, using Marines assisted by small, robotic probes that could get into any area of the ship before it was declared officially taken by General Carabali. Long before that, human engineers who were desperately needed to help conduct repairs on Geary’s ships had been hauled off those jobs to try to figure out the controls on the superbattleship and render everything safe.

The engineers on the auxiliaries had offered up a half dozen decontamination units, mobile devices designed to enter ships and remove any sort of contagion or pollution. They vacuumed up blood from the air, scrubbed it from bulkheads, decks, and overheads, collected pieces of what the engineers called random biological remains, and scooped up relatively intact dead bear-cows in large numbers to deliver to the designated cargo dock, giving relief to tired and resentful Marines. Midgrade fleet and Marine officers rotated at the dock, each reciting the words of the standard burial service over each mass of dead Kicks before they were sent on their final journey to the star here.

The Marines had found amid the bear-cow dead six who were still alive but too badly injured to arouse to consciousness. The six were transferred to medical quarantine on
Mistral
while the fleet doctors tried to figure out how to keep them alive.

“What the hell are we going to do with that thing?” Desjani grumbled on the third day. She was exhausted, they were all exhausted. “We are taking it with us, right?”

“Yes. We have to.” Geary knew that she knew the answer as well as he did.

“How?”

That question was a lot harder. “I’ll ask Captain Smythe.” Geary rubbed his eyes, realizing how woolly his mind was after so many days with too little sleep as he supervised so much repair work and everything else. “All units, this is Admiral Geary. Tomorrow is rope yarn. All hands are to relax, sleep, eat, and recharge. To the honor of our ancestors, Geary, out.”

Desjani frowned at him in disbelief. “We can’t afford a day off. And why do they call it rope yarn anyway?”

“I know we can’t, and I don’t know.”

“What?”

“My point exactly,” he said. “We’re all running on empty, our minds fuzzy from fatigue. We need rest, we need a reset, so our efforts can be a lot more effective.”

Captain Smythe protested as well. “My engineers don’t need a rest, Admiral. It will blunt their momentum. They can easily go two or three more days without a break.”

“Are you saying your engineers are fully effective and will remain so if they keep working without a break for two or three more days?” Geary asked.

“Absolutely. Of course, the frequency of hallucinations and erratic behaviors will go up a bit more on an accelerating curve—”

“Give them a rest, Captain Smythe. That’s a firm order. I will be checking to see that the stand-down is enforced.”

Of course, even though Geary made an effort to sleep in, he couldn’t avoid all work that day.

“I request a personal conference,” Captain Badaya said, his image standing in Geary’s stateroom.

Badaya looked as subdued as Geary had ever seen him. “Granted. Sit down, Captain.”

“Thank you, Admiral.” Badaya took a seat in his own stateroom, leaning forward with his elbows resting on his knees. “You already have my formal report of the recent action.”

“Yes. You didn’t spare yourself.”

“Nor should I have!” Badaya sat back. “I blew it. I could not have anticipated that
Titan
would lose some of her propulsion when she did, or that
Incredible
would take damage to one of her main propulsion units at the same time as the shields on
Illustrious
collapsed, but I should have reacted better and faster when that did happen. If not for Captain Geary, the majority of the ships under my direct control would probably have been destroyed and the rest severely damaged.”

“That decision of Captain Jane Geary’s should not have worked out as well as it did,” Geary pointed out.

“It was still the right decision,” Badaya insisted. “I was busy trying to figure out how to save my entire formation, which I couldn’t do, but she recognized that some sacrifice would be necessary. Now, I realize you don’t publicly humiliate officers, even those who deserve it, and you and I both know some of those I speak of in that regard. But I wanted to tell you that I will not contest any other officer being put in command of a subformation in which my battle cruiser is a part. I understand that everyone will see that as a demotion, but I understand that I failed in a higher command position. Perhaps with time, I’ll figure out how to handle things better. If you feel it is appropriate, I will also not object to giving command of the Sixth Battle Cruiser Division to Captain Parr of the
Incredible
. He is not as experienced as I am, but he is a fine and skilled officer.”

Geary watched Badaya for a few moments before answering. “It could have been done better. It could have been done a lot worse.”

“Thank you, Admiral.”

“I was remembering my first commanding officer on my first ship,” Geary said. “I was still a new officer, only about a month after reporting aboard, when I made a big mistake. My department head almost took my skin off. The executive officer almost popped my eardrums. That took most of the morning. Then the captain called me in.”

“That must have been one hell of a mistake,” Badaya observed.

“Oh, yeah. Big enough that I won’t say what it was. But my captain called me in, junior officer me all quivering after the dressing-downs I had already gotten, and he said to me in a calm voice, ‘Mistakes are how we learn.’ He let me stare at him in amazement for a long moment, then he added in a voice like frozen nitrogen, ‘Don’t ever make
that
mistake again.’ Then he dismissed me.”

Badaya laughed. “The hell you say.”

“The point is, I learned more from those two sentences from him than I did from the screaming directed at great length at me by my department head and the executive officer. That captain managed to chew me out and convey continued confidence in me with those two sentences. After that, I never let him down. I wanted to be certain I never let him down.” Geary leaned back, deliberately relaxing his posture. “Yes, you screwed up. You know you screwed up. I will make further decisions on subformation commanders taking that into account, and you know I have to, but I will also take into account what you did right and have done right. There will be no changes in command of the Sixth Battle Cruiser Division. I have no problems with Captain Parr, who as you say has proven himself a fine officer, but you still have my confidence as commander of that division.”

It took perhaps half a minute for Badaya to answer, his voice rough with emotion. “You really are him, you know. I’ve heard people say no one could actually be Black Jack, but—”

“I’ve made my share of mistakes.” Geary paused, realizing this was a moment he could use for other reasons. “Especially in areas I’m not trained in. Captain Badaya, the fact that many of the politicians running the Alliance aren’t doing a very good job of it and haven’t done a very good job of it doesn’t mean you or I would do better than they have.”

Badaya looked back at Geary steadily, thoughts moving behind his eyes. “That’s a point,” Badaya finally conceded. “Do you ever feel overwhelmed during a battle, Admiral? Like too much is happening, and you don’t know what the right thing to do is?”

“Of course I do.”

“As you were saying that last, about the politicians, I imagined myself making political decisions in a crisis. It was all too easy to imagine feeling overwhelmed.” He paused. “That’s why you’re still letting them do most things, isn’t it?”

“Yes.” A partial lie, which made Geary cringe internally. Badaya thought Geary was actually directing the government now, behind the scenes. That had been necessary to avoid the chance of a coup in Geary’s name though without his approval, but Geary had been wanting to work his way out of that perception ever since he had been forced to adopt it. “As bad as they may be at it, most of them anyway, they’re still better at it than I am. There are some who are terrible by any standard, but there are also some who are good by any standard. And, most important, they derive their power from having been chosen by the people of the Alliance.”

Badaya bent an arch look at Geary. “The people of the Alliance would choose you if you asked for that openly.”

“I know.” Give him the full truth now. “That scares the hell out of me.”

“Understandably.” Badaya stood up, saluting. “Thank you, sir.”

His comm panel chimed the moment Badaya’s image vanished. “What did he want?” Desjani asked.

“He apologized,” Geary said.

“He apologized? Foot-in-mouth Badaya? Damn.” Desjani had never taken well Badaya’s often clumsy comments about her and Geary. “You are a miracle worker, aren’t you?”

“Very funny. Are you resting?”

“Resting? Me? Oh, yes, sir. I’m resting so hard that I’m sleeping in my sleep.”

“Tanya, set a good example for your crew.”

She offered him a rigidly proper salute. “Yes, Admiral. I hear and obey.”

With both Captain Badaya and Captain Desjani gone, Geary rubbed his eyes, thinking about trying to sleep . . .

Six bells chimed in spaced pairs across the ship’s general announcing system, followed by a voice saying “Admiral, Alliance fleet, arriving.”

An admiral. There were only two other sources of Alliance fleet admirals in this star system, among the liberated prisoners of war aboard
Mistral
and
Typhoon
. But none of them should be coming to
Dauntless
.

Geary was reaching toward his comm panel when it came to life, Desjani once again gazing out at him. “Admiral Lagemann has arrived on a shuttle and requests a meeting with you, Admiral.”

“Admiral Lagemann?” His sudden tension just as quickly gave way to relief. A personal visit was unusual, but not that strange with so many shuttles winging between ships. “Certainly. Send him to my stateroom.”

Admiral Lagemann took only five minutes to reach Geary’s stateroom, nodding in greeting as he entered. Geary was actually meeting him in person for the first time. “There was a shuttle run between
Dauntless
and
Mistral
, so I thought I’d take advantage of that to see you. I owe you a report, Admiral Geary.”

“About what?” he asked, unable to recall with his mind cluttered by everything he had to deal with in the aftermath of the battle and the capture of the bear-cow superbattleship. “It’s nice to meet you at last. Have a seat.”

“Thank you.” Lagemann sat down, looking around Geary’s stateroom with a small smile. “Nothing fancy, but it’s home, eh?”

“That’s a good way to describe it.” He didn’t have any other home. There was his home world, Glenlyon, where the cult of Black Jack had burned the brightest. The idea of going back there, to a world filled with familiar places but empty of all of the people he had once known who had died during the last century, to a world that would treat him as some superhuman hero, was more frightening than facing battle.

“It’s not too different from my last flagship.” A wry look crossed Admiral Lagemann’s face. “Also a battle cruiser.
Invincible
.”

“
Invincible
? I wonder how many
Invincible
s ago that was,” Geary said.

“Probably a dozen. I was in Syndic hands long enough, and everyone knows how long
Invincible
s last. I don’t know why I was foolish enough to put my flag on one of them. May I?” Lagemann reached for the display controls, bringing up the regions of space that the fleet had traversed. “You asked for an assessment of what we thought the enigmas might be up to.”