Hadn’t he? “What’s wrong with me?”

  She sighed. “I think you know, but won’t consciously think about it. It’s an anniversary.”

  “Anniversary?” He glared at her, wondering why she’d bring up something personal between them at this time. “We didn’t get married on this date. And even if we did we’re not supposed to even think about that while aboard ship and on duty.”

  “No, Admiral,” Desjani said, her use of his rank emphasizing that this wasn’t a personal matter. “It’s an anniversary for you. One hundred and two years ago today you ordered the crew of Merlon to abandon ship in Grendel Star System. You know that inside, but you’re not allowing yourself to realize it.”

  He inhaled sharply, those events coming into painfully clear focus. His cruiser Merlon had been escorting a convoy, as a training exercise rather than out of any belief that there was danger, but while passing through Grendel had encountered a Syndic flotilla on its way to launch a surprise attack on the Alliance. He’d ordered the convoy to run for safety and warn of the incoming attack, and had been forced to sacrifice his ship in a desperate rearguard action to give them time to get away. The last one off his ship after he ordered the surviving crew to abandon it, he’d been left with only a damaged escape pod that had frozen him into survival sleep. Everyone had thought him dead.

  The Alliance, reeling from the surprise Syndic attacks, had declared him a great hero. For nearly a century afterwards as the unwinnable war dragged on, the Alliance had kept inflating his reputation, using the example of Black Jack to inspire its people. And when he’d finally been found after nearly a hundred years and awakened aboard this same ship Dauntless, his first sight that of Captain Tanya Desjani, he’d discovered that everyone thought he was someone he’d never been. Everyone he’d ever known was dead, and everyone now alive thought he was the hero who could save them.

  They’d needed him, so he’d done his best to be that person. Even as he discovered a century of war had warped the people of the Alliance in some ways their ancestors would’ve been appalled by. He’d also done his best to show them that the things they were doing because they were “necessary to win” had not only not resulted in victory, but had tarnished and set back their own cause.

  “Admiral?” Tanya said, her voice unusually gentle, but still fully professional. “Are you okay?”

  “Yes.” He took another deep breath, more slowly. The latest meds could dull the pain of the past, but not wipe it away. “I knew it subconsciously, but didn’t want to consciously acknowledge it.”

  “Did you have another nightmare recently?”

  “Yes.” Geary shut his eyes for a moment, which was a mistake since it let the images from last night stand out more strongly. “The usual one. Stumbling through the wreck of my cruiser, seeing my dead crew members all around, wondering why I was still alive. Why I had any right to be alive.” He paused. “I even see people like Cara Decala, my executive officer, lying dead. She got off the ship. I know that. She died years later, in another battle, while I was frozen in survival sleep. But I see her dead then.”

  “Survivor guilt is hard to handle,” Desjani said. It might have sounded glib, except that he knew how well she understood what she’d said. Tanya had also lost a lot of friends. “But keeping it inside doesn’t make it better. You need to talk to the doc, or to me or Duellos, and get more meds if you need them. Don’t try to fight this battle on your own.”

  He nodded, trying to focus on here and now. “You’re right.”

  “I always am.”

  And somehow she had once again managed to rally his spirit when the burdens seemed too heavy to bear. “You actually keep track of that date?”

  “The whole fleet does,” she said, smiling a bit as he flinched. “There used to be commemoration ceremonies every year on the anniversary of Black Jack’s Last Stand.”

  “Ancestors save me,” Geary said, glad that he’d never had to witness any of those ceremonies. “Why haven’t—”

  “When you came back, it didn’t seem right to keep celebrating your heroic death. During the ceremonies we all took an oath to follow your brave and epic example,” Tanya added.

  “All right. You’ve successfully distracted me. Please don’t recite that oath to me.” Now that he understood the source of his distress, he could master it as he took a few moments to think while Tanya waited patiently. “The dead crew members of that ship do deserve proper burials. What happens if we instead alter Passguard’s track to send the wreck into the sun?” He knew she would have already worked that out.

  “We can do it so it poses no real threat to navigation,” she said. “Two of the heavy cruisers and some portable maneuvering units attached to the wreck can gradually swing it onto a vector that’s safe.”

  “Completely safe?”

  “Mostly safe.”

  “Okay.” Another pause to think. Finally, Geary touched his display to activate the comms on it. “Kommodor Marphissa, this is Admiral Geary. I know we’d agreed to divert the track of Passguard’s wreck into the dark between stars, but we’ve discovered many dead aboard. We have to give those dead an honorable burial. Will Midway agree to allow us to alter the track of the wreck so it ends in Midway’s star? I am assured we can do so without unduly hazarding navigation within your star system, but I recognize your right to have the final say in this. To the honor of our ancestors, Geary, out.”

  With Manticore so close, Marphissa replied within minutes, her eyes searching Geary. “Admiral, I do not entirely understand your request. Why is it necessary for the wreck to be consumed by our star?”

  “It’s our belief,” Geary explained. “Everyone, and everything, came from the furnaces of the stars. Eventually, we all return to the stars, to someday be reborn. A proper burial in space is always aimed at sending the deceased into the nearest star to rest until the day they return.”

  Midway’s Kommodor eyed Geary. “It’s religion, then. You understand, the Syndicate outlawed such beliefs. The Syndicate didn’t want any rival for control of the people. It couldn’t stamp out such things, but what . . . metaphysical belief systems existed had to remain hidden and thus are very fragmented. Are you saying the Alliance has just one such belief?”

  “No,” Geary said. “There’s one broad consensus of belief, but within that are numerous shadings, from fairly rigid interpretations with strict rules to simple spiritual feelings that lack any structure. And of course there are those who don’t believe in such things at all. Military burials are designed to be acceptable to as wide a range of beliefs as possible, because we have all too often had to conduct mass burials.”

  “And this proper burial matters greatly to you?”

  “It does,” Geary said.

  Marphissa nodded. “Then out of respect for you, at least, I will give conditional approval. But this is something I must ask President Iceni to give final approval on. I will contact her and let her know this is a matter of importance to you.”

  “Thank you, Kommodor,” Geary said.

  “It is only a small thing.” Marphissa paused. “Those of us raised in the Syndicate tend to believe in nothing because all we were taught to believe in was false.”

  “I’m sorry,” Geary said. “What you believe should be your choice. It’s unfortunate that you weren’t given any choice.”

  Marphissa smiled slightly. “But now I have a choice. I believe in President Iceni and in what she seeks to do. I chose that. And the Syndicate has not been able to stop me. I will contact you as soon as I receive a reply from President Iceni.”

  * * *

  THE mood in the conference room aboard Dauntless usually varied depending on the topic. This time it felt as somber as a funeral home. The virtual presence of Lieutenant Velez sat at the table, his eyes clear but haunted. Geary sat opposite him, Tanya Desjani to his right. Dr. Nasr was seated next to and watching Lieutenant Velez, even though doctors aboard Tsunami were monitoring his health. Lieutenant Iger, the intelligence officer aboard Dauntless, was also present, though maintaining a low profile.

  Kommodor Marphissa’s virtual presence sat at the table as well, a matter that had occasioned some debate on whether a representative of a foreign power should be present. But since this matter intimately involved the enigmas, Geary had decided she should be here.

  “How are you doing, Lieutenant?” Geary asked.

  Velez made a small shrug, his face working. Even though he’d received emergency care, the bones on his face still stood out against skin drawn tight by days of stress and lack of food. “I am . . . well.” He looked up as if suddenly remembering something, his eyes on Geary. “Thank you. Thank you, Admiral, for your aid. For ensuring no more lives were lost.”

  “I’m only sorry we couldn’t save more. Can you tell us what happened?”

  Lieutenant Velez rubbed his face, his hand moving with quick, jerky twitches. “I do not know if that is . . . authorized.”

  Desjani leaned forward a bit. “Lieutenant, you and your ship fought alongside us in a lot of battles. We haven’t forgotten that. We’re not asking for Rift Federation secrets. But we are supposed to proceed through enigma space soon. Anything you can tell us might help us avoid the fate of Passguard.”

  Velez flinched, then nodded. “We reached Pele Star System. There were enigma picket ships posted at the jump points for Hua and Hina.”

  “Hua has been renamed,” Geary said. “Apparently the name too closely resembled that of a notorious and dead Syndic CEO, so Midway has changed the name of that star to Lalotai. I told them we’d respect that even though we don’t have to.”

  Velez squinted at Geary as if having a little trouble absorbing the new name. “La-lo-tai?”

  “What does that mean?” Desjani asked Geary.

  “It’s an Old Earth culture’s name for the underworld, or the place where monsters dwell,” he replied.

  Captain Desjani smiled briefly. “Then it’s a perfect name for an enigma-owned star.”

  Velez waited a moment longer before he began speaking again. “Enigma picket ships at the jump points for . . . Lalotai and Hina. Captain Kapelka took us along the quickest vector to the jump point for Hina Star System.”

  “What? Hina?” Even though Geary had promised himself he wouldn’t interrupt Velez again, he burst out with the words. “Captain Kapelka knew she had to jump to Hu—to Lalotai in order to reach Dancer space.”

  Velez nodded, looking distressed. “We weren’t told the reason, but talk among the officers was that we wanted to trick the enigmas. We knew Hua, I mean Lalotai, was an enigma defensive outpost against the Dancers. Even though Captain Kapelka didn’t explain why we were apparently going to Hina, we thought it was a plan to mislead the enigmas into gathering their forces at Hina, which would mean stripping warships from . . . Lalotai.”

  Captain Desjani nodded. “We know the enigmas have some form of faster-than-light communications, so Kapelka figured the picket ships would send messages to both Lalotai and Hina. Once their ships at Lalotai used the hypernet gate there to head for Hina, they’d be out of communication until they arrived, which could’ve given your force a small window to get through Lalotai before the enigma ships could return.”

  Lieutenant Velez nodded as well, the movements jerky with tension. “That’s what we guessed the plan was. It . . . it wasn’t a bad plan, was it?”

  It was Geary’s turn to nod. “It’s probably the best plan Captain Kapelka could’ve come up with.” It also required the enigmas to react just right and just like humans would, which was why he would never have risked his ships on such a plan unless he had absolutely no choice. Kapelka had likely felt she didn’t have any choice.

  “We kept waiting for the picket ship at the jump point to Hina to jump to confirm when we’d be there,” Velez said. He paused, looking puzzled. “But it didn’t. We were only five light minutes from the jump point for Hina when Captain Kapelka ordered us to shift vector and accelerate toward the jump point for . . . Lalotai.”

  “Kapelka still didn’t explain what she was doing at that point?”

  “No, Admiral.”

  “Did the enigma ship waiting at the jump point for Lalotai enter jump before you reached it?” Kommodor Marphissa asked.

  “No,” Lieutenant Velez said, shaking his head once with a sharp motion. “It accelerated away from the jump point. Chasing it would’ve only delayed us so we jumped for Lalotai.” He squinted at Marphissa, finally taking in her uniform. “You’re . . . uh . . .”

  “A local expert,” Geary said in a matter-of-fact way that implied Marphissa’s presence was a given, the sort of thing no one would have any cause to question.

  “Did you see any new enigma ships arrive at the jump point for Hina before you jumped for Lalotai?” Geary asked.

  Velez blinked before shaking his head again. “No, sir.”

  “What was your position aboard Passguard?” Captain Desjani asked.

  “Weapons Officer,” Velez said. “I didn’t have much to do at Pele since there were no enigmas near us. Not that I minded that.”

  “Wasn’t anybody worried?” Kommodor Marphissa exploded in frustration. “You knew how fast the enigma warships are and how much they hate having humans in one of their star systems.”

  “Everyone was scared,” Lieutenant Velez said, staring at Marphissa. “We weren’t supposed to talk about it. Yuki—I’m sorry, Lieutenant Franzen, our medical officer, told me she was passing out calming meds like candy. But she wasn’t supposed to tell anyone. Captain Kapelka didn’t want people talking about it.”

  “Lieutenant Franzen isn’t among the survivors,” Geary said.

  “No.” Velez breathed deeply in and out, his face working with emotion. “She . . . died . . . too.”

  Hating to see how reliving this was hurting the lieutenant, but knowing he needed this information, Geary tried redirecting the conversation, keeping his tone professional and dispassionate. They were all doing that, he realized, speaking with their best official voices to soothe Velez with the sound of business as usual. “You were expecting trouble when you arrived at Lalotai?”

  “Yes. Yes, Admiral. Full combat alert, all weapons ready to fire.” Velez had his gaze fixed on the table. “We were at full combat readiness when we left jump at . . . at Lalotai,” he repeated as if trying to refute charges of negligence that no one had made. “And . . . they were there. Waiting near the jump point. I don’t know how many. Too many.”

  He took another long, slow breath, his eyes seemingly fixed on sights he wanted to forget and could not. “The destroyers were in the lead. They were gone in seconds. I think Machete went first. Exploded. Then Scythe. Torn to pieces. Then Soedoek and Katar, so fast, I don’t know how they died. Octave and Tierce, the light cruisers, were behind the destroyers. I think Tierce blew up. Octave took so many hits, she came apart. They never . . . had a chance,” Velez said, his voice breaking.

  He paused for a few seconds to recover before continuing. “Passguard was at the rear. Because we had the delegation aboard. We were supposed to be at the back of the formation to protect the delegation,” he repeated, as if trying to justify why the heavy cruiser had survived. “The destroyers and light cruisers absorbed most of the initial enemy attacks, but then the enigmas shifted to us, and we were taking hits. Bad hits. All of my weapons were shooting back. I . . . I think we hurt one of their ships,” Velez said, his eyes haunted. “My gunners, they got one of the enigmas. They were dying, weapons being knocked out, but they fought until the end.”

  “Of course they did,” Geary said, knowing that Velez had to believe that the sacrifices of his sailors had been worth something. “No one has ever questioned the bravery and the skills of Rift Federation sailors.”

  Lieutenant Velez stared at Geary, momentarily silent, before nodding quickly. “Yes, Admiral. We were outnumbered so badly, though. Courage and skill, their sacrifices, weren’t enough. Captain Kapelka ordered us to turn about, accelerate back to the jump point. The enigmas were all over us, but we kept shooting and we made it.” He paused. “We thought maybe the enigmas hadn’t expected us to fall back. But my gunners kept them off us for long enough. We were able to jump back for Pele.”

  Lieutenant Velez grimaced, as if his memories physically hurt him. “In jump space we had time to make some repairs and . . . and deal with our casualties. We had nearly a hundred dead and wounded. Half of my weapons were out of commission, but we were able to repair the rest.”

  “What was Captain Kapelka’s plan at that point?” Geary asked. “Had she abandoned the attempt to reach Dancer space and was just trying to get back to Midway?”

  “I think so.” Velez shook his head. “She, Captain Kapelka, didn’t say. Those days in jump, she spent a lot of time in her stateroom. Didn’t talk much. Maybe we were all like that, expecting to die when we came out of jump at Pele. But we didn’t die right off, because when we left jump, there weren’t any enigma warships waiting at the jump point.”

  Lieutenant Velez sighed, his head bent down toward the table, sounding as if he was fighting back tears. “They were at the jump point for Midway. Three light hours from us. Thirty-three of them. Waiting. We had no choice. We assumed the enigma warships from Lalotai would have jumped after us and they’d come through jump behind us soon. We had to head for the jump point for Midway at the best acceleration we could manage and try to fight our way through the enigmas at the jump point. It was the only chance we had.”

  Velez looked puzzled. “The ships from Lalotai didn’t come out of jump until we’d been at Pele for four hours. No one could figure out why they’d waited so long to jump after us.”

  “That is odd,” Geary said, running possible explanations through his mind, explanations that kept coming back to some different enigma way of thinking.