He never debated whether that was true. Not with her. She needed to believe it. If he was honest, he had to believe it, too. Otherwise the already terrible human cost would too quickly become unbearable.

  Geary occasionally glanced toward Lieutenant Velez, who had continued vigorously opposing abandoning the wreck of his former ship and had formally protested the Alliance’s actions. Velez had threatened to boycott the funeral service, until it became clear that it was going forward regardless of whether he attended.

  “To the honor of our ancestors,” Geary called, ending the service. As he did so, thrusters lit off on the two Alliance heavy cruisers with towlines attached to the sturdiest remaining portions of the wreck. So did the thrusters on portable maneuvering units. Together, they began altering Passguard’s vector gradually enough to avoid tearing the wreck apart.

  Boundless had left the rest of the fleet to join with the ships near the wreck of Passguard so that Ambassador Rycerz could attend the service in person. She stood to one side, attended only by Colonel Webb and a couple of his special forces soldiers who eyed the nearby sailors and Marines as if every one were a potential assassin.

  “Thank you for coming,” Geary said to her.

  “It was the least I could do,” Rycerz said, her eyes on the displays where the images of the dead were still visible. “It’s clear that the fleet still regards those Rift Federation sailors as . . . what’s the word . . . shipmates? So I felt on behalf of the Alliance I should honor them as if they were our own.”

  “It was an important gesture, coming in person,” Geary said. “Not many are openly saying it, but I can tell they were impressed that you made that effort.”

  “I hope you don’t think I did it just for show,” Ambassador Rycerz said. It was hard to tell just how she felt about that.

  Geary barely avoided shrugging in reply. “One of the lessons I’ve learned is that everything we do might as well be for show. It gets judged that way regardless of our motives.”

  “You would know that as well as anyone, wouldn’t you?” Rycerz looked to one side, where the ranks of fleet personnel still stood, waiting to be dismissed. “I want to personally thank those Marines as well.”

  “Which Marines do you mean?”

  “The ones who went aboard the Passguard first.” Rycerz paused, plainly trying to find the right words. “They’re trained to kill, to risk their lives to defeat an enemy,” she finally said. “But that same training, those same skills and equipment, could also be used to get help as fast as possible to men and women who desperately needed it. Even though those Marines thought they were risking their lives to do that. That’s right, isn’t it? They thought it might be a trap?”

  “They did,” Geary said. “They went in ready for anything.”

  “Risking their lives to save others.” Rycerz sighed, shaking her head. “That ship, Passguard, almost embodies the contradictions of humanity. Built to wage war against other humans, callously sent on a mission facing impossible odds, and yet when everything went wrong the survivors hung together to save each other, and our own weapons and humans intended for war raced to save them. We should build more monuments to moments like that, Admiral, and fewer to battles.”

  “It was like that before the war,” Geary said. At times like this, he was forcefully reminded that he was the only one present who actually remembered what things had been like before the war with the Syndicate Worlds began. “Hopefully it can be that way again.” He led the ambassador over to the ranks of the Marines. Rycerz gave a short speech thanking them for their dedication and skills, saying they were the best ambassadors for what the Alliance aspired to be.

  Afterwards, as the neat formations of sailors and Marines dissolved into a mass of personnel all heading somewhere else, Rycerz beckoned Geary to an unoccupied corner of the hangar. “I dropped in on Lieutenant Velez yesterday,” she said. “He complained again about how we were disposing of Passguard.”

  “I hope you said ‘you’re welcome,’ ” Geary replied.

  “Not as bluntly as that,” Rycerz said. “I visited all of the survivors, including ‘Petty Officer Masurin.’ I have a diplomatic database on Boundless. Masurin’s appearance matches that of a middle-level Rift diplomat named Carine Jolovetz. There’s not a lot of information on her, except for a note that she is fervently devoted to Rift Federation independence and will object to anything she thinks impinges on it. Needless to say, she didn’t break in any way from her imposture as Masurin.”

  Geary shook his head, feeling a mix of anger and resignation. “When the war ended, parts of the Alliance went looking for a new enemy because that was all they knew, fighting against someone. It looks like the Rift Federation has done the same, but the new enemy they’re looking at is us. I admit it’ll be a relief when we send the survivors back aboard Chinook. Did Chinook bring any updates I should know about?”

  Rycerz paused, gazing at him. “Perhaps I should summarize rather than go through them one by one. Every government or association in human-occupied space, including private companies and foundations, is trying to learn as much as possible about the Dancers. Some are making open requests, many are employing espionage. What they seek includes the exact routes you took to reach the Dancers and return to human space.”

  The implications of that were easy to see. “They all want to contact the Dancers directly instead of letting the Alliance be the only ones able to speak with the aliens. The Rift Federation expedition wasn’t an isolated case. It’s the first of many. And we’ve just established a direct link with Midway so they don’t need to cross Syndic space to get a lot closer to the Dancers.” Another thought hit on the heels of the first. “Are they trying to learn about the enigmas as well?”

  “Yes . . . and no.”

  He got that, too. “They want to know the route through enigma space, but not anything about the danger?”

  Ambassador Rycerz shook her head, gazing into infinity. “Those who have made open requests have been clear in their belief that the hostilities with the enigmas are due to either the Syndicate Worlds invading their space or to the Alliance fleet under a certain famous officer invading their space, or both. They are certain a properly peaceful approach will produce better results.”

  “I thought our reports, including those from the civilian experts on nonhuman intelligence who were with us, made it clear that we tried a peaceful approach.”

  “No one wants to hear that a nonhuman intelligent species doesn’t want anything to do with us,” Rycerz said. “If they’re hostile and attack us? We can understand that.”

  “But they have attacked us,” Geary said.

  “Have they?” Her expression made it clear she was asking him to think outside his own experience.

  He took a moment to do that. “They’ve attacked the Syndics. And the former Syndics at Midway. And the Alliance fleet, when we entered their own space.”

  Rycerz nodded, her mouth twisting. “They’ve attacked other humans, but they haven’t attacked the Alliance, except when we sent the fleet into their territory. And you just know the Syndics provoked the attacks, right? This isn’t just coming from part of the public. Parts of the Alliance government have expressed those sentiments, though if you try to quote me I’ll deny telling you that.”

  “The Syndics may well have provoked attacks,” Geary admitted. “Still, I’m surprised that the idea the enigmas don’t want to coexist with us is so hard to grasp. Especially after the enigmas appear to have leaked hypernet technology to us in the hopes humanity would discover that hypernet gates could be used as weapons capable of destroying entire star systems, and use that against ourselves.”

  “That’s speculation,” Rycerz said with a sigh. “We don’t have proof.”

  “And the possibility that the enigmas tricked the Syndicate Worlds into starting the war with the Alliance in the first place—”

  “What?” Ambassador Rycerz gave him a wide-eyed look of surprise.

  He gazed back at her, puzzled by the reaction. “I put it in my reports. Some of the things we learned about the Syndics, and the enigmas, led us to wonder if the Syndics hadn’t been counting on enigma support in their initial attacks on the Alliance. As bad as those attacks were, they couldn’t have knocked out the Alliance, and they missed some very important potential targets.”

  Rycerz frowned in thought, one hand going to her chin. Finally, she looked back at Geary, surprising him with a tight smile. “If that’s true, it’s a good thing.”

  “How is that a good thing?” he asked, baffled.

  “It means the Syndics were able to talk to the enigmas about something the enigmas wanted. To discuss matters enough to at least develop a joint plan. That’s a lot more than we’ve seen with the enigmas elsewhere, right?”

  “A lot more,” Geary agreed.

  “We just have to find a thing, or things, that the enigmas want badly enough,” Ambassador Rycerz added. “If we can get them talking, maybe we can start actually communicating with them.”

  “The only thing they seem to want that badly is us being wiped out.”

  Rycerz nodded slowly. “And be sure that there will be some segments of humanity willing to promise that, assuming they can use the enigmas against their human enemies and somehow avoid themselves becoming victims. That must be what the Syndic leaders intended, and they got betrayed straight off. We’d have to be very careful what lies we told.” She noticed Geary staring at her last words and laughed. “A very old book named The Devil’s Dictionary defined ‘diplomacy’ as ‘the patriotic art of lying for one’s country.’ It’s what we do, Admiral. But if it’s not done well, it can cause more harm than good. You’ve given me something important to think about. Thank you.”

  “I’m glad that I could help.” He gestured toward the image of Passguard’s wreck. “Once the cruisers finish their work here they can rejoin the rest of the fleet. In three days we should be able to break our orbit and head to the jump point for Pele.”

  “Make it five days. Or six,” Ambassador Rycerz said. “We’re going to have to take Boundless and Dauntless to near orbit about Midway’s main planet again. Do you enjoy formal diplomatic receptions, Admiral?”

  “Not really,” Geary said.

  “Then I regret to inform you that we’re going to have one. Both President Iceni and General Drakon will attend in person. As will you and I and diverse others, of course.”

  “Of course.” At least dreading the upcoming diplomatic reception would for a few days give him some respite from dreading the trip through enigma space.

  * * *

  “RELAX,” Desjani advised as she ran a critical eye over his uniform, making a minor adjustment to something that hadn’t seemed perfect to her.

  Geary sighed. “I never liked diplomatic receptions when I was a junior officer. I always felt awkward.”

  “If you’re going to command a fleet, you need to get used to this sort of thing,” she said as the shuttle came to rest in Boundless’s spacious dock. “If things get too rough just give me the sign and I’ll pretend I got a high-priority message about something you have to return to Dauntless to deal with.”

  The walk through Boundless from the shuttle dock to the ballroom gave them a chance to check out the security along the route. Colonel Webb’s “honor guard” special forces had been augmented with an impressive number of Marines in dress uniforms.

  Inside the ballroom, Geary stopped for a moment as he saw that one entire wall was projecting an image of being open to space, the globe of Midway’s primary world an arc of mostly blue and white across the bottom half. The view was awesome, dramatic, and profoundly disturbing to anyone with much experience in space.

  “Why do civilians like this?” Tanya grumbled, distrustful eyes fixed on the view. “Being exposed to open space? They do realize how deadly that is, right?”

  “But until it kills you, you get one hell of a view,” someone said.

  Geary and Desjani turned to see General Drakon eyeing them with a crooked smile. Drakon’s uniform betrayed only a few signs of its Syndicate Worlds origin, and bore on the left breast only a small cluster of campaign ribbons. Drakon apparently wasn’t the sort to show off rafts of medals and ribbons. Surprised to see the co-ruler of Midway apparently alone, Geary glanced around, spotting men and women who had that particular bodyguard look about them ranged nearby, covering every approach toward Drakon.

  “You’ve spent time in space, General?” Desjani asked.

  “Sure.” Drakon gestured toward the view of Midway as if he were ordering a unit to charge it. “The Syndicate doesn’t believe in specialized space infantry like the Alliance Marines. Ground forces fight everywhere. It’s more efficient that way,” he added dryly.

  “Have you given any thought to specialized space infantry?” Geary asked, thinking he should try to learn anything he could while speaking directly to Drakon.

  “A bit.” Drakon smiled again, this time looking slightly predatory. “Colonel Rogero’s brigade has been getting a lot of space combat training. We can’t call them Marines, of course.” He glanced around the ballroom. “Is your Marine commander here? Carabali?”

  “She’s helping coordinate security,” Geary said.

  “I was wondering if we’d faced off at Wotan,” Drakon said. “Tough fight.”

  “I’ll ask her to call you,” Geary said, not surprised that General Drakon had been briefed on the backgrounds of the senior Alliance officers.

  Drakon gazed at the planet below them a moment longer before glancing at Desjani. “Choosing aim points for orbital bombardment?”

  Captain Desjani gave a guilty start. “To be honest, yes. Not seriously, though.”

  “Force of habit,” Drakon said. “It’s how you and me view the universe, right? We’ve spent so many years doing it that now we do it without even thinking.” He paused, frowning. “That’s what worries me about all of these aliens. We don’t really know how they view things. What do they see when they look down at a planet? I understand that’s a big part of this Alliance mission. To learn more about how they think.”

  “That’s right,” Geary said. He realized that Drakon’s bodyguards had set up a tighter perimeter surrounding the three of them, maintaining their privacy. “They’ve helped humanity, but a lot of people would like to have a better handle on why they’ve done that.”

  “I’m one of those people,” Drakon said. “I want to discuss a deal.”

  “A deal?”

  The general turned his back on the view of Midway, facing outward toward the star Pele. “You want our continued cooperation. You want Midway as a forward base. Don’t deny it,” he added before Geary could speak. “You’re a good commander. You think about things like that, right? It’s what we do. But we also have to keep the people happy. I want my people to know we’re not giving away anything to your people.”

  Drakon paused, waiting for Geary’s reply.

  “I understand,” Geary said, not wanting to say more before he knew what Drakon was driving at.

  “President Iceni and I want to send two representatives along with you to Dancer space,” Drakon said. “So we can say we’re participating in this mission, and so we can say we’re watching you. You’re Black Jack, so our people believe you’re for them, but you’ve got a lot of people working for you that don’t get that benefit of the doubt.”

  “Who do you want to send?” Geary asked, trying his best to keep his tone of voice as neutral as possible.

  Drakon took a drink from the glass in one hand before replying. “Colonel Rogero for one. His loyalty to me is unquestioned, and he’s operated independently before. The other will be Kommodor Bradamont.”

  “Bradamont?” Desjani blurted out in surprise.

  Drakon smiled again. “Right. See, Bradamont’s devotion to Rogero couldn’t be clearer. She’s going to support him. President Iceni considers her to be reliable. But Bradamont is also one of your people, and you’ve already established that you consider her valuable enough to have represented you here. If she sees anything wrong, she’ll be able to get to you. We can both be sure she’ll respect our interests. Win-win, right?”

  “I thought you’d want to send those two colonels we met on a previous visit to Midway,” Geary said.

  “Two colonels?” Drakon paused, his expression closing down, his eyes hooded. “Malin and Morgan. They’re both . . . no longer available.”

  “I see.” Whatever had happened to Malin and Morgan, it hadn’t been something that Drakon enjoyed recalling. Geary realized that Desjani was giving him a look warning him to be careful with his words. He thought for a moment before nodding. “So, Rogero and Bradamont. I don’t see why we can’t make that happen.” That was a neutral statement, not a commitment, right?

  Drakon nodded as well. “Good.” He glanced at Midway again. “How’d your officers like Midway?”

  Lieutenant Iger and Lieutenant Jamenson had spent a few days of “honeymoon” on the planet. Fleet intelligence had wanted Iger to report on actual conditions there, but Geary had warned Iger not to do or say anything that would mark him as collecting intelligence. “They enjoyed it,” Geary answered truthfully. “Lieutenant Iger says it’s a really beautiful planet.”

  “It is,” Drakon agreed. His eyes took on a brooding quality again as he looked at the planet below them. “Beautiful planets don’t always survive the attention we give them. Gwen Iceni and I are both tired of planets being trashed. You’ve seen Kane, what the revolt and then the Syndicate retaliation has done there. I’ve spent my life destroying things.” His gaze shifted to Desjani.

  She nodded in reply to the unspoken question. “I have, too. But then, some things needed to be destroyed.”