“Good,” Desjani retorted. “It’s a good thing Drakon told us to duck.”

  Which reminded him of something. “Why did you say that? When Drakon said ‘duck’ you said something about how did he know?”

  Desjani grimaced. “And so it begins. Okay. I’ve been keeping something from you.”

  “What is it?” Geary asked, eyeing her with worry.

  Desjani gave him a flat look. “We have a duck aboard the ship.”

  “What?”

  “There’s a duck aboard Dauntless. You know, feathers, quack. A duck. I found out yesterday.”

  “A duck.” Geary paused to try to make sense of that. “How—?”

  “The Marine detachment,” Captain Desjani said. “They somehow smuggled it aboard at Varandal, and have kept it undetected until now.”

  “That’s . . . both disturbing and impressive,” Geary said, trying to imagine how the Marines had kept the ship’s interior sensors from spotting a duck. “What with that and what just happened to us, it looks like our security sensors have some unexpected blind spots.”

  “You might say that.”

  “Why did the Marines smuggle a duck aboard the ship?”

  Desjani sighed. “Booze was involved, to the surprise of absolutely no one looking into it. Drunk Marines returning from liberty came across a duck and decided to bring it back with them. Gunnery Sergeant Orvis claims he knew nothing of the duck. I’m going to give him the benefit of the doubt on that.”

  “What were they feeding it?”

  “Fruits, vegetables, ration bars, beef jerky—”

  “Beef jerky? They fed a duck beef jerky?”

  “They’re Marines,” Desjani said. “Apparently the duck didn’t really like the jerky, but it loves fish cakes. And the occasional beer.”

  “Where were they getting the occasional beer?” Geary asked.

  “Another good question,” Desjani said. “Fortunately, Master Chief Gioninni noticed the occasional beers disappearing from ship’s inventory and went looking for the answer.”

  Geary nodded, happy that something finally made sense. “Because Gioninni was unhappy with someone else misappropriating beers?”

  “You got it.” Captain Desjani sighed again. “Anyway, we’ve got a duck.”

  “What are you going to do with it?”

  She raised an eyebrow at him. “I could bump that question up to the admiral, since Dauntless is your flagship.”

  “But you won’t,” Geary said, hoping that was the case. None of the options he could think of would bode well for the duck, and inflicting a bad fate on the creature would likely hurt the morale of a lot of sailors and Marines around the fleet. It felt odd to worry about that in the immediate aftermath of someone trying to kill him, but he did. “Maybe Midway—”

  “I am not leaving an Alliance duck at the mercy of the former Syndics in this star system!”

  “Any number of commanding officers turn a blind eye when it comes to a ship’s mascot,” Geary suggested, remembering ships that had unofficially carried a dog, or a cat, or some more exotic creature. “It’s always been that way.”

  Captain Desjani shook her head, frowning. “Fleet regulations prohibit mascots. I don’t turn a blind eye to regulations. But I won’t make the duck suffer for the dumb actions of those Marines. Therefore, I’m informing you that the duck is officially a member of the crew.”

  He hadn’t expected to hear that, either. “Officially? Don’t members of the crew have to be human?”

  “You’d think that’d be the case, wouldn’t you?” Desjani said. “But, in fact, the regulations are written broadly enough to include anyone, which means they also, broadly interpreted, can include a duck.”

  “So, it’s not a mascot, it’s a member of the crew.” Geary shrugged. “Okay.”

  “You’ll have to confirm the duck’s rank as an ensign under battlefield promotion regulations,” she added.

  “Why an ensign?”

  “So the Marines will have to salute the duck.”

  “Okay,” Geary said again. Trust Tanya Desjani to find a way to make discipline and punishment as effective as possible. “What else are you doing to the Marines?”

  Captain Desjani frowned. “Since my Marine detachment appears to have way too much free time on their hands, Gunny Orvis and I are going to work their butts off. In addition to them now officially having primary care responsibility for the duck.”

  “Is that a good idea? Beef jerky. And beer.”

  “They’re Marines.”

  Which really did explain everything.

  * * *

  EARLY the next morning, Geary and Desjani sat in a secure conference room aboard Dauntless. Also present in person was Lieutenant Iger. Opposite them sat the virtual presences of both Ambassador Rycerz and Colonel Webb. Webb, never the most open or happy of people, was even more closed off and somber than usual.

  “As Captain Desjani suggested,” Webb said, “every other autobar had the same booby trap installed, designed to discharge fragmentation into Admiral Geary as he touched the drink menu.”

  “How did those things pass undetected?” Geary asked.

  Webb’s jaw tightened. “They were very precisely designed. Every aspect of them was configured to avoid detection by the latest Alliance security systems. Which meant whoever designed them and installed them knew everything there is to know about our latest security systems.”

  Ambassador Rycerz let out a loud sigh. “Which means in turn that this was an inside job.”

  “Yes, Ambassador,” Webb said, looking as if those words were being physically pulled out of him by painful hooks. “I cannot rule out any of my own personnel as possibly being involved, because all of them were capable of it.”

  “How did General Drakon’s detection devices spot the danger?” Rycerz asked.

  “Syndic gear, and their stuff is still basically Syndic even though they’ve been modifying the hell out of it, isn’t exactly like ours. Tiny differences in operating parameters and sensitivity and things like that. Those differences were enough that something working on Syndic standards was able to spot indications of something designed specifically to defeat Alliance sensors.”

  Geary nodded. “Maybe we should consider trying to get access to more of the latest Syndic gear so we can piggyback their capabilities on top of our own.”

  Webb frowned at him, then nodded. “That’s certainly worth looking at, Admiral.”

  “Where do we go from here?” Rycerz asked.

  Colonel Webb’s frown deepened. “I admit that I paid insufficient attention in the past to the possibility that one of my own soldiers might be involved in illegal activity. I assure you that won’t happen again. Everyone has heard about the attack. We need to give them something, so I propose leaking word that we suspect Drakon—”

  “Bad idea,” Geary said. “That could seriously poison the well, especially after he saved my life.”

  “Rogue elements at Midway?” Rycerz suggested. “Someone opposed to both Drakon and Admiral Geary?”

  “That could work,” Webb said. “What I want to do is give whoever was behind this a false sense of confidence that we’re hunting up the wrong trees. That’s the best way to get them to make a mistake.” He paused. “I also recommend that Admiral Geary avoid if possible any further visits to Boundless. That’s where maximum danger seems to exist for him.”

  “I agree,” Rycerz said. “And I like your proposal. I’ll find a way to let President Iceni know what we’re doing so she won’t feel we’re lobbing false allegations to protect our own reputations. Colonel, you and your soldiers were handpicked for this mission because you are all exceptionally capable. Unfortunately, that’s turned into a two-sided coin. I’m counting on you to prevent any further attacks.”

  “Yes, Ambassador,” Colonel Webb said. “I will find out who’s doing this.”

  “In the meantime, I’m going to make sure anybody and anything that has any physical contact with Boundless gets gone over with a fine-tooth comb,” Tanya Desjani said.

  “Lieutenant Iger,” Geary said, “cooperate fully with Captain Desjani on this, and let us know if you hear anything that might bear on it, no matter how trivial it may seem.”

  After Iger had left and Webb’s virtual presence had vanished, Ambassador Rycerz visibly sagged, the tension she’d been carrying inside finally allowed to show. “Can we trust Colonel Webb?”

  Geary weighed the question. “I don’t know,” he finally said. “But he’s going to assume we’re watching him regardless. Why wasn’t he inside the ballroom last night, shadowing you?”

  Ambassador Rycerz made a face. “We jointly decided it would be best for Colonel Webb to monitor the reception from a nearby location. He was maintaining a low profile aboard Boundless because a couple of days ago he was needed at an odd hour, and instead of asking one of his soldiers to wake him, Boundless’s duty officer sent a junior ship’s officer. That young fool tried to wake Webb by shaking his shoulder.”

  “Ancestors save us,” Desjani said. “Waking a special forces combat veteran that way? Is the junior officer dead?”

  “The junior officer suffered some broken bones but fortunately avoided dying.” Rycerz grimaced. “I’d heard it was a bad idea to try to wake combat veterans in that manner, but I half thought it was just some sort of military in-joke.”

  “No,” Geary said. “Ground forces and Marines in particular can be dangerous to wake. Their instinct when ‘attacked’ in their sleep is to defend themselves. General Carabali court-martialed one of her corporals for thinking it would be funny to send a newly arrived recruit in to wake her like that.”

  “I take it the recruit survived,” Rycerz said.

  “With a number of bruises,” Geary said. “All right. I understand Webb’s reasons for not being at the reception in person. You might ask President Iceni for some tips on staying alive when some of your own people might be trying to kill you.”

  Rycerz’s laugh was short and bitter. “They already think the Alliance is as deep a snake pit as the Syndicate Worlds. I’m beginning to wonder why I got chosen for this mission. Am I really an exception to those who seem to have been selected for their ability to sabotage what we’re supposed to do?”

  “I think so,” Geary said. “But your instructions, like that throwdown you did with me at Atalia, might’ve been slanted to create problems. That way, if you did your job as directed, you’d create even more trouble. Speaking of problems, the physicists who linked the hypernet gate here to the Alliance want to stay with you and see what they can learn from the Dancers.”

  “Why is that a problem?” Rycerz asked. “I think it’s a great opportunity.”

  “They’ve been stonewalled by the tech transfer people on your staff.”

  Ambassador Rycerz didn’t say anything for several seconds, her face hardening. “I’ll take care of that,” she finally said in a carefully controlled voice. “We don’t have much time, do we? Chinook is heading for the hypernet gate tomorrow?”

  “That’s correct,” Geary said. “They’ll probably be happy to have fewer passengers since they’ve already gained the survivors from the Passguard as well as the former prisoners of war we picked up at Kane.”

  Rycerz nodded, her expression shadowed. “What do you think is going to happen to Lieutenant Velez? He saved everyone who survived aboard Passguard. He got them to safety. But . . .”

  “But the mission was a disaster,” Geary said. “And a majority of the Rift Federation fleet was wiped out.”

  “They might recognize his heroism,” Desjani said. “Play up the survival, the impressive achievement of getting Passguard to safety despite all of the damage done to her. Or they might make Velez a scapegoat, him and the other survivors. If the people who ordered those ships on that suicidal mission want to avoid accepting any responsibility, they might try to pin the failure on Lieutenant Velez. He’s low ranking, he’s an emotional wreck after holding his crew together long enough to get them here so he’ll have a hard time defending himself, and he’s convenient.”

  “You have a very low opinion of politicians, don’t you, Captain?” the ambassador said.

  “Politicians and admirals,” Desjani replied. “Present company excepted. When things go bad and there’s a choice between letting the chips fall where they may or protecting an admiral’s backside, the choice is almost always to protect that admiral.”

  “Or that politician,” Rycerz said. “I won’t debate you on that. All right, let me see what else I need to fix. Please don’t die, Admiral.”

  * * *

  CHINOOK returning to Alliance space meant all of the prisoners of war recovered at Kane would go back with it. Including one former POW in particular.

  Geary stood up as his grandnephew Michael entered the admiral’s cabin. He ought to be used to this after spending so much time around his grandniece Jane, but it still felt very odd to realize that in terms of age he was about the same as they were. “I’m glad you could stop by.”

  “I’m glad you could take time to see me,” Michael said, acting both subdued and polite. “And that you’re still alive.”

  “I’ve had more than my share of luck.” Geary waved him to a seat before sitting down himself. “You and I haven’t had much time together. Jane has talked about you, of course, but I still hate to see you go.”

  Michael nodded, his eyes on the deck. “I wanted you to know all of the former prisoners from my camp are going back. They appreciate the offer to join your ships, but they have people to see and lives to restart.”

  “Understood. Are you okay?”

  “All in all considered? I’m great.” Michael paused. “I know our first encounters weren’t, um, happy reunions.”

  Geary smiled in the hope of relaxing Michael, wondering what he was having trouble saying. “You had your reasons.”

  “Yeah.” Michael blew out a long breath, still avoiding Geary’s gaze. “I needed to talk to you. About what happened at Kane. During the engagement with the Syndics.”

  Why would Michael be worried about that? “I’ve said it before. You did a great job maneuvering your ship in that fight. Even Tanya said she couldn’t have done better.”

  “Thanks. Coming from her that really means something.” Michael gazed at one bulkhead, his eyes growing distant, as if they were looking through it. “There’s something that’s not in my report. Something very important.”

  “What’s that?”

  “I froze.” His eyes regained their focus, coming back to gaze at his great-uncle. “For a few seconds I couldn’t move, couldn’t talk, couldn’t think. Paralyzed with indecision. Maybe fear, too.” Michael ran one hand through his hair, grimacing. “It wasn’t just the loss of Repulse. I’ve lost ships before that. We all have. I don’t know what it was. Maybe just one battle too many. Maybe the stress of being in that Syndic prison for so long. I managed to snap out of it, but I’m not sure how, and I’m not sure if I could snap out of it again.” He sighed. “I’m not safe in command, not anymore. That’s the truth. I honestly think I would freeze, maybe for a long time. Even at Kane my seconds of paralysis might have been fatal if they’d come at a different time.”

  What should he say? Geary tried to find the right words. “The war was hard on a lot of people. There are medications—”

  “Yeah, I know. Happy pills. The docs could fix me up. Maybe.” Michael made another face. “Admiral—”

  “For the love of our ancestors, Michael, this is a personal visit. Call me John.”

  “Okay, Great-Uncle John, here’s the truth.” Michael inhaled deeply before speaking. “I don’t want to be fixed. I don’t want any more lives riding on my orders. I don’t want another command. I’ve done my time, I’ve served honorably, and I’m done.” As the last words left him he sagged in his seat like someone who’d just overcome a mighty obstacle.

  Geary nodded. So that was it. He should have been expecting this. “Jane told me you two never wanted to join the fleet.”

  “We didn’t have any choice,” Michael said with a shrug. “The Geary curse, as we called it. Maybe if Dad had lived he would’ve let me take another path. Mom believed wholeheartedly in the Geary thing, though. She’d never have wanted us to let down Black Jack. Sorry for using that nickname.” His face saddened, creased with old pain. “When Mom and Dad died . . . I was twelve, Jane was ten. Uncle Deake and Aunt Diana were already gone, and Diana’s husband died the next year.”

  Michael looked up again. “Mom and Dad were on different ships. Did Jane tell you that? They died the same week, in battles at stars fifty light years distant from each other. It’s hard to believe in the benevolence of the living stars when that happens.”

  “I’m very sorry,” Geary said. “I remember Deake. He was . . . just a baby the last time I saw him.”

  “I don’t remember much about him, either,” Michael said. “He was gone a lot. Fighting. The only time I saw my dad break down was when we got the notice that he was missing and presumed dead.” Another sigh. “So, it was me and Jane. I had to be the example. The eldest Geary of the last two left. And every step was measured in relation to you. No,” Michael added. “Not you. That myth they made of you. Black Jack. No one could’ve lived up to that.”

  “I sure as hell can’t,” Geary said.

  “From what I hear, you’ve made a good try of it.” Michael sat back, looking as if he’d shed a burden. “I did my best. For Jane’s sake, and Mom and Dad, and Uncle Deake and Aunt Diana. I got good at it. But I never loved it. And I admit I wasn’t a model officer. Tanya probably told you I had a mouth on me. Hell, you experienced that yourself before Repulse was destroyed. Now . . .”