He could see the action, the tracks of enemy fire reaching for the shuttles as they tore skyward, counterfire from the shuttles racing downward to strike among the indications of Syndic commandos, who still remained almost invisible in their stealth gear. And, from above, just over a hundred bombardment projectiles seconds from passing through the same airspace as the shuttles.
It was strange how very long a second could be.
SIX
THE tracks of shuttles and bombardment merged, then diverged, the shuttles clawing for altitude and the rocks hurtling down the final distance to the surface. Geary heard the shuttle pilots yelling over their command circuit. “One of those damned things almost took off my ear!”
“Severe turbulence! Trying to maintain control!”
“We lost the main hatch!” That was shuttle two. “Make sure those Marines are strapped in and their armor is sealed! That’s all that’s going to be between them and vacuum!”
Beneath the fleeing shuttles, the entire central section of the former POW camp blew skyward in a single huge blast as the impacts of all of the bombardment rocks merged. Debris and shrapnel shot upward, chasing after the escaping shuttles as if the planet itself were reaching to grab them and pull the shuttles back to the surface.
Then another explosion burst out of the destruction on one side of the camp, an even more massive blast mushrooming toward the heavens.
“One of the Syndic nukes detonated,” the operations watch reported.
“Come on,” Desjani urged the shuttles in a whisper as they raced upward with shock waves and debris still in hot pursuit.
“We’re hit! Damage to starboard lift unit. Continuing on track, maximum velocity reduced twenty percent.”
“Climbing clear of danger zone.”
“Multiple strikes on our underside. Two penetrations. Shifting to backup on maneuvering controls.”
Geary could never be sure at which moment the crisis passed, the instant in which the three shuttles outran the death of the POW camp and the Syndic commandos within it. But at some point there was no longer any doubt.
“All shuttles clear. Colossus is closing on shuttle two for an emergency docking. Shuttles one and three proceeding as assigned to Spartan and Guardian.”
“Okay,” Desjani said, grinning. “It was my plan.”
“Right,” Geary agreed, almost laughing with relief as he triggered his command circuit. “Relentless and Reprisal , excellent shooting. Every ship performed with distinction, and every Marine and shuttle in this fleet went above and beyond the call of duty. As soon as the final shuttle is recovered, the fleet will proceed toward the jump point for Padronis.” He closed his eyes for a moment after finishing the transmission, breathing heavily. “And I thought fleet actions were tough.”
Far beneath the fleet, the only movements within the remnants of the former POW camp were caused by debris falling back to the surface and the mushroom cloud still rising on one side. Desjani was smiling. “Those Syndics successfully carried out the suicide part of their mission, anyway.”
Geary thought of what those commandos could have done to his Marines, his shuttles, and the thousands of Alliance prisoners who had been liberated, and nodded in agreement.
The next half hour felt like a major anticlimax as the shuttles found their assigned homes on different ships of the fleet. Far beneath the fleet, parts of Heradao’s surface writhed as forces loyal to rebel factions and Syndic central authority clashed, but none of them tried to target the Alliance ships. “Do we need to provide cover for those withdrawing Syndic guards and their families?” Geary asked.
“There’s no sign of pursuit, sir. It’s likely most people on that planet think the guards went up with the camp.”
“Good.” After all the frantic activity, Geary felt fidgety waiting for the time when he could order the fleet into motion. While he waited, a postponed question popped back into his head. He bent a puzzled look at Desjani. “Why the hell do the Marines call their deception devices Persian Donkeys?”
Desjani replied with her own baffled expression. “I’m sure there’s a reason. Lieutenant Casque, you don’t have anything to do at the moment. See if the database can explain it.”
“And who the hell named those things hupnums? It makes them sound cute.”
This time Desjani just spread her hands helplessly. “I’m sure it was a committee. What did they call hupnums in, uh, the past?”
Geary wondered just what phrase Desjani had hastily avoided using to describe his time a century ago. “They called them PNWs. Portable Nuclear Weapons. Nice and simple.”
“But every nuclear weapon is portable,” Desjani objected. “Some may be carried by very large missiles or ships, but they’re still portable.”
He glared at her. “Did you ever work as an editor at your uncle’s literary agency?”
“A few times. What does that have to with anything?”
“Do you like the term hupnums, Captain Desjani?”
“No! In the fleet we usually call them NAMs.”
“NAMs?” Why couldn’t the future come with a glossary explaining common terms? Though come to think of it, he had heard sailors using the term a few times.
“Yes.” Desjani made an apologetic gesture. “Nuclear-Armed Marines. It’s shorthand among the sailors for something that’s a bad idea.”
Geary fought to keep a straight face. “I guess some things never change. Do you think there was ever a time when Marines and sailors got along?”
“We get along fine if planetary forces try to mess with us,” Desjani pointed out. “And when there’s a mission to carry out.”
“What about in bars?”
“That usually doesn’t go so good. Unless there’s planetary-forces types in the bars, too.”
“Just like in the past,” Geary agreed.
“Captain?” Lieutenant Casque called. “The database says those things are called Persian Donkeys because of some really ancient story. These people called Persians invaded some other place and got trapped by an enemy that was more mobile, so they had to get away at night without the enemy realizing they were going. The Persians had these things called donkeys that the enemy hadn’t seen before, and these donkeys made a lot of noise, so the Persians left all the donkeys behind to fool the enemy into thinking all of the Persians were still there. I guess these donkeys were some kind of primitive deception device.”
Lieutenant Yuon gave Casque a pained look. “Donkeys are animals.”
“Oh. Captain, donkeys are—”
“Thank you. I know.” Desjani seemed skeptical as she questioned Lieutenant Casque. “How old is this story? What does ancient mean?”
“Captain, the source is marked as ‘ancient book—Earth’ and that’s as old as it gets. I guess the Marines read about it in that book.”
“Excellent assumption, Lieutenant.” Desjani made a who-knew gesture toward Geary. “There’s your answer, sir. The Marines heard this ancient story. Maybe they study it as the first documented case of deception in warfare. No, that’d be that wooden horse thing I heard about once. Anyway, old story.”
“Even older than I,” Geary replied. “At least I’m pretty sure that must have happened before I joined the fleet.” He’d never expected to be able to joke about how long ago that had been, but in the glow of relief after the ground engagement, such things didn’t seem to hold as much anguish as they once did.
“Sir,” the operations watch called, “all shuttles have been recovered.”
“Excellent.” Geary sent the orders accelerating the Alliance fleet toward a rendezvous with the repaired warships, auxiliaries, and escorts back in the region of the engagement with the Syndic flotilla. Once joined up again, the fleet would head for the jump point for Padronis. “Something just occurred to me. We knew how badly the Syndic fleet has been hurt lately, but how did the rebels in this star system know? They broke their leash almost as soon as we’d destroyed the Syndic flotilla here.”
Rione answered, her voice thoughtful. “There’s bound to have been rumors among the citizens of the Syndicate Worlds, but the only ones who would know the true extent of the fleet’s losses would be senior personnel and CEOs. Which means some of the senior Syndics and CEOs are part of the forces that are trying to overthrow Syndic control of Heradao. The rot is just as bad as we suspected.”
“Then this could be happening in a lot of places as news spreads,” Geary said.
“Perhaps. But the Syndics still have considerable ability to try to retain control of individual star systems. Any collapse of the Syndicate Worlds will take a long time to work its way through all of the star systems.”
“A long time? Too bad,” Desjani murmured as she checked her display. “The shuttles bringing some of the liberated POWs to Dauntless are preparing to off-load.”
Geary came to his feet. “Let’s go welcome them.”
“Yes,” Rione agreed, “if the commanding officer of Dauntless doesn’t object to my presence as well.”
“Of course not, Madam Co-President,” Desjani replied with a professionally detached tone of voice.
They arrived at the shuttle dock as the first bird dropped its main hatch, and the former prisoners began walking down the ramp. The liberated prisoners filed off the shuttle, gazing around with expressions of joy and disbelief. In the remnants of their old uniforms and cast-off, badly worn civilian clothes provided by the Syndics, they looked very much like the prisoners who had been liberated way back at Sutrah Star System. The entire scene, the emotions present in everyone, felt like that at Sutrah.
“I guess the thrill of liberating our own prisoners of war never goes away,” Desjani murmured, somehow echoing Geary’s own thoughts.
Just about then a voice called across the shuttle dock. “Vic? Vic Rione?” One of the newly liberated prisoners, tall and thin and wearing commander insignia on an old coat, was staring their way, his eyes widening with disbelief.
Victoria Rione was peering back at the man, her expression puzzled, then she gave a quick intake of breath. Recovering quickly, she called out a reply. “Kai! Kai Fensin!”
Rione stepped forward to meet Fensin as he left the line and walked quickly toward her. Some of the sailor escorts herding the former prisoners along to sick bay made abortive motions to stop Fensin but halted when Desjani made a quick gesture. “Vic?” Fensin asked in a wondering voice as he reached them. “When did you join the fleet? You haven’t aged a day.”
“Vic?” Desjani muttered too low for anyone but Geary to hear.
“Be nice,” he muttered back to her before joining Rione.
Rione was shaking her head and looking embarrassed. “I feel much older, and I haven’t joined the fleet, Kai. May I introduce the fleet commander, Captain Geary?”
“Geary.” Commander Fensin smiled, his expression disbelieving. “They told us on the shuttles who was in command of the fleet. Who else could have brought it here to free us?” Looking suddenly aghast at himself, Fensin straightened to attention. “It’s an honor, sir, a great honor.”
“At ease, Commander,” Geary ordered. “Relax. There’ll be plenty of time for ceremony later.”
“Yes, sir,” Fensin agreed. “I served with another Geary once. Michael Geary. A grandnephew of yours. We were junior officers together on the Vanquish.”
Geary felt his own smile slide away. Fensin caught it, looking anxious now. “I’m sorry. Did he die?”
“He may have,” Geary answered, wondering how his voice sounded. “His ship was destroyed in the Syndic home system, covering this fleet’s withdrawal.”
“He pulled a Geary?” Fensin blurted, invoking the last stand for which Black Jack had become famous. “Of all people. I mean . . .” Fensin seemed simply horrified at his own verbal gaffes.
“I understand,” Geary said. “He didn’t think much of Black Jack after having to grow up in his shadow. But he seemed to understand me better at the end, when faced with the same situation.” Time to change the subject to something that would hopefully be more comfortable. “How do you know Co-President Rione?”
“Co-president?” Fensin’s stare shifted to Rione.
She nodded back to him. “Of the Callas Republic. And, uh, member of the Alliance Senate, of course, because of that. I went into politics to serve the Alliance after Paol . . .” Rione paused, blinking rapidly. “I’d been told he was dead, but recently learned he was still alive when taken prisoner. Do you know anything?”
Kai Fensin closed his eyes briefly. “I was on the same ship with Vic’s husband,” he explained to Geary. “Excuse me, I mean, Co-President Rione’s—”
“I’m still Vic to you, Kai. Do you know anything?”
“We were separated soon after being captured,” Fensin stated miserably. “Paol was severely injured. Somebody had told me he’d died on the ship, so I was surprised to see that he was still hanging on. Then the Syndics took the badly wounded away, supposedly for treatment, but . . .” He grimaced. “You know what happens to prisoners sometimes.”
“They killed him?” Rione asked in a thin voice.
“I don’t know. As my ancestors are my witness, Vic, I don’t know. I’ve never heard anything else about him or the others taken with him.” Fensin shrugged, his expression twisted with regret. “There were some others at the camp from our ship. I don’t think any of them came to Dauntless, but we’ve talked a lot. There’s not all that much to do but talk in the camps when the Syndics aren’t making you dig ditches and break rocks. None of the others could say what had happened to Paol, either. I wish I could give you some last memory, some parting words, but everything was chaos and the Syndics were pulling us apart and he was barely conscious.”
Rione managed a smile. “I know what his words would have been.”
Fensin hesitated, his eyes going from Rione to Geary. “There was a lot of gossip on the shuttle, people trying to catch up. Somebody said something about a politician and the fleet commander.”
“Captain Geary and I had a brief relationship,” Rione said in a steady voice.
“It ended when she learned her husband might still be alive,” Geary added. That wasn’t strictly true, but close enough so that he felt justified in saying it.
Commander Fensin nodded, looking haggard now. “I wouldn’t have blamed Vic, sir. Maybe before I went into that labor camp, back when I thought honor had a few simple rules to it. Now I know what it’s like, thinking you’ll never see someone again because the war has been going on forever and you can see the people dying in the labor camp who’ve been there almost all their lives and figure that will be you someday. There’s a lot of people who were in that camp who found new partners, figuring they’d never again see their old ones. Married people who started caring for someone else, or who looked for someone else to care about them. There’s going to be a lot of pain when they come home, I guess, one way or the other.” He gazed at Rione. “I did it, too.”
Rione gazed back, looking kinder than Geary had thought possible, as if meeting this man from her past had brought her back to a better time for her. “Did she come to this ship with you?”
“She’s dead. Three months ago. The radiation on that world causes problems sometimes, and the Syndics don’t waste money on expensive treatments for prisoners.” Fensin’s eyes appeared haunted now. “May the living stars forgive me, but I can’t stop realizing how much simpler that made things. I don’t know how my wife is now, whether she even knew I was alive, but now I don’t face a choice. I haven’t become a monster, Vic. But I can’t stop that thought from coming.”
“I understand,” Rione replied, reaching for Commander Fensin’s arm. “Let me help you to sick bay for your checkup with the others.” She and Fensin moved off while Geary watched them go.
Desjani cleared her throat softly. “There but for the grace of our ancestors,” she murmured.
“Yeah. It’s a hell of a thing.”
“It’s nice to see that she can be human,” Desj
ani added. “Vic, I mean.”
He turned a slight frown on Desjani. “You know how she’ll react if you call her that.”
“I certainly do,” Desjani replied. “But don’t worry, sir. I’ll save it for the right moment.”
Geary took a few moments of his own to pray that he wouldn’t be too close when that happened. “How many of these liberated prisoners will be able to augment your crew?”
“I don’t know yet, sir. It’s like after we pulled the others off Sutrah. They’ll have to be interviewed and evaluated to see what skills they’ve got and how rusty they are. Then the personnel-management system will help the ships sort out who should go where.”
“Can you—”
“I’ll keep Commander Fensin aboard Dauntless, sir.” Desjani gave him a hard look. “Hopefully that commander will keep the politician occupied and off our backs.”
“You know, you are allowed to do nice things just to be nice even for her.”
“Really?” Desjani, her expression unrevealing, looked toward the liberated prisoners again. “I need to welcome the others to Dauntless, sir.”
“Do you mind if I welcome them to the fleet at the same time?”
“Of course not, sir.” She gave him a rueful look. “I know how little you like their reactions to seeing you.”
“Well, yeah, but it’s still my job to greet them.”
It felt odd, moving among the liberated prisoners, some of them elderly after decades in the Syndic labor camp, to know that all of them were born long after him. He’d gotten over that with the crew of Dauntless, able to forget that their lives had begun many years after his had supposedly ended. But the prisoners brought it home again, that even the oldest of them had come into a universe in which Black Jack Geary was a figure of legend.
But then an enlisted sailor with plenty of years behind her spoke to him. “I knew someone from off the Merlon, sir. When I was just a child.”
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