“Damn.” Geary checked the positions of the Syndic heavy cruisers on the display. “Which one?”
“As best we can determine from the location of Mantle’s escape pods and their description of the course of the Syndic cruiser,” Hochin continued as if he had not heard Geary, “it should be located in an area about one and a half light-hours from the star Atalia, slightly above the plane of the system, pretty close to a line between the jump point from Kalixa and the star. Mantle’s people said the Syndic cruiser had heavy damage forward.”
“This one!” the combat-systems watch cried out triumphantly. “We had to work his course back, but it has to be this one.”
“Is it damaged forward?” Desjani asked.
“Yes, Captain. A lot.”
“Excellent.” Desjani nodded to Geary. “That’s one ensign who deserves a field promotion to lieutenant.”
“Remind me about that.” The heavy cruiser in question had been badly torn up forward, but apparently retained most of its propulsion capabilities. Since seeing the Alliance fleet, it had accelerated to point zero six light speed. “Can we intercept him?”
“Not the Illustrious formation, sir,” the operations watch reported with considerably less happiness.
“After slowing to pick up these other pods, they won’t be able to accelerate fast enough to catch that cruiser.”
“What about us?” Geary asked.
The operations watch ran courses and speeds, then made a dissatisfied gesture. “The Eighth Light Cruiser Squadron on the edge of our formation farthest to starboard could manage an intercept with the least accelerating and braking, sir. The Twenty-third Destroyer Squadron could accompany them.”
Geary checked the weapons on those ships against what the Syndic heavy cruiser was assessed to have left. “That should be enough firepower, but this isn’t just about taking out that cruiser. We need to get the POWs off, and light cruisers and destroyers don’t carry Marines.”
“Ask them to surrender,” Rione urged.
“That hasn’t been a wildly successful option in the past, Madam Co-President.”
“Maybe this time will be different. What does it cost you to demand their surrender? Or at least the surrender of the Alliance personnel that they have captured?”
“Not a lot,” Geary admitted.
“You could make a deal,” Rione suggested. “Offer to trade them the continued existence of that heavy cruiser for releasing our people.”
Geary could feel the attitudes of the fleet personnel around him stiffening at the suggestion. Only Desjani spoke, though, and that as if to herself rather than addressing Rione. “Standing orders require all feasible efforts to destroy the enemy and prohibit allowing Syndic forces to escape as long as they retain any combat capability.”
As fleet commander, he could override those standing orders, but in this case that didn’t seem like the right thing to do. What else did he have to bargain with, though?
Rione looked around in frustration. “Make a deal, Captain Geary! If you won’t agree to them keeping their ship, then you still have the lives of Syndic crew in your hands!”
He blew out an exasperated breath. “Syndic commanders haven’t proven to care very much about the lives of their crews.”
“Some of them have! You’ve made comments about them, about how the crews abandoned ship too early. Why did their commanders do that if they didn’t care about their crews?”
That was a point. Those cases could have represented panic, but they also could have been the result of captains’ concern for the fate of their personnel. “And maybe if that Syndic captain isn’t that worried about the crew, they’ll be worried about their own life. It’s worth a try.” He recorded a demand and sent it off, sent orders to the Eighth Light Cruiser and Twenty-third Destroyer Squadrons to accelerate a bit more and alter course to intercept the Syndic heavy cruiser, then settled back again to wait with growing restlessness.
“Captain?” the combat-systems watch reported. “There is something odd about the damage to that Syndic heavy cruiser, the one who picked up some of the escape pods from Peerless.”
Desjani glanced back at the watch-stander. “Define ‘odd.’ ”
“We focused sensors on it, and analysis of the damage indicates it was caused not by multiple impacts but by a single massive blow.”
“One hit?” Desjani frowned in thought. “What could have done that?”
“Unknown, Captain. No single weapon in the Alliance inventory could inflict that kind of hit.”
Desjani frowned deeper. “What about a collision?”
The watch-stander ran some figures. “In theory, Captain, that’s possible, but the odds of a head-on collision being strong enough to inflict that much damage and not a lot more are very, very small. Whatever hit that cruiser hit it right on the bow, and not a lot tends to survive head-on strikes. It seems to have hit the entire bow, too, so it wasn’t something small.”
“Hmmm. That’s very strange. But in the absence of any evidence of another cause, we’ll have to assume a collision is what did it. Let me know if any other details show up to explain the damage.” Desjani looked back at Geary as if aware of something he hadn’t said out loud. “Sir?”
“Why’d they jump to Varandal?” he asked her.
“The Syndic reserve flotilla? To destroy what was left of the Alliance force that attacked here.”
“But their orders must have been to stop us before we reached Varandal. Syndics don’t improvise on their orders.” Geary glared at the display as if an answer was hidden there. “Why didn’t they stay here to hit us when we arrived?”
Desjani frowned. “They must have been ordered to go to Varandal. The Alliance warships that came here ran into the reserve flotilla on its way to the jump point for Varandal.” She tapped some commands and studied the results. “That matches the debris trail. The reserve flotilla wasn’t going to wait here for us. They must have planned on jumping before we got here, reducing Varandal’s defenses, then hitting us when we arrived home with our guard down and our fuel and weapons at the lowest possible state.”
That made sense, though something about the situation still bothered him. “It would have been easier to do all of that here at Atalia.” No one else offered suggestions, so Geary leaned back and thought, his ideas going nowhere this time.
He hadn’t realized how much time had passed until the communications watch called him. “Captain Geary, sir. The commanding officer of that Syndic heavy cruiser is offering to surrender her prisoners in exchange for your agreement not to attack the escape pods from her ship.”
Desjani’s reaction was quick. “It’s a trap. Or a trick.”
“Could be,” Geary agreed as he accepted the message.
An image of the captain of the Syndic heavy cruiser appeared. She looked defiant but her eyes had a glazed look, as if she were suffering from shock, too. “My ship cannot defend itself against your attack. I am willing to surrender my prisoners in exchange for your agreement for safe passage for my crew. I will remain aboard my ship as a hostage along with the prisoners after my crew evacuates and put up no resistance to whatever boarding parties you send in to take off the prisoners, but if any attempt is made to capture my ship or penetrate beyond the prisoner holding area, I will destroy my ship. Those are my conditions. If you do not accept them, then I will fight to the death of my ship and all who are on it.”
“You won’t get a better offer,” Rione pointed out.
“Or a more dangerous one,” Desjani countered. “She can wait until our ships close to take off the prisoners, then overload her power core.”
It wasn’t an easy decision. Syndics hadn’t exactly proven themselves trustworthy in previous dealings.
“There’s something about this one,” Geary commented. “Look at her eyes. She’s seriously rattled by something.”
Desjani’s own eyes narrowed as she studied the Syndic commander. “They won here. It is odd to see her looking so dazed.
Maybe she got hurt during the battle.”
“Maybe.” Everyone was waiting. Only he could decide this one. Again. He remembered Colonel Carabali’s comment about making decisions about who lives and who dies. He didn’t want to have to do that again, but he had to. “All right. I’m going to agree to her terms. It’s the only possible way to save the prisoners on her ship unless we abandon them and let the cruiser get away.”
Desjani kept her face impassive, her fingers running across her display. “Recommend you use Rifle and Culverin from the destroyers heading to intercept the heavy cruiser. They’ll have to swing very close, match vectors, then put lines across and manually transfer the prisoners. Send the rest of the squadron to watch over the Syndic escape pods as a threat.”
Geary nodded approvingly. “What about the light cruisers?”
“Have them dance around the heavy cruiser,” Desjani advised. “Create the impression they might get a lot closer, and if the Syndics are planning to blow the heavy cruiser, that might make them wait in hopes of bagging some of our light cruisers.”
“All right.”
Close to two hours later, Rifle and Culverin sidled up to the Syndic heavy cruiser, carefully matching their speed and direction exactly to that of the enemy warship. When they were done, the three warships were still hurtling at tremendous velocity through space, but relative to each other they were all motionless, as if the three ships were hanging unmoving in the vastness of space. A short distance from the Syndic heavy cruiser, Rifle, and Culverin, a small cluster of Syndic escape pods marked the escaping crew of the cruiser.
The destroyers and the Syndic heavy cruiser were almost forty light-minutes distant from the main body of the Alliance fleet at that point. Task Force Illustrious had fallen back even farther, more than a light-hour distant, as it braked to pick up Alliance escape pods. The fleet’s main body had already swept over and smashed another Syndic heavy cruiser and light cruiser that had been damaged in the earlier battle, and was less than five light-minutes from a crippled Syndic battle cruiser, which seemed to be awaiting its fate with grim determination.
Unable to intervene at this point, Geary watched lines go across to the Syndic heavy cruiser from his destroyers, watched the very distant figures of sailors in survival suits sailing across on the lines, then after an agonizing wait more figures in survival suits came out of the Syndic cruiser, making their way to the destroyers. Eventually the suits stopped, and the lines were reeled in, then the destroyers accelerated away. “How many?”
“Fleet sensors counted thirty-six more coming off than boarded, sir.”
“Thirty-six.” He shrugged to Desjani. “Looks like a Syndic kept her word.”
“We’ll see what the commanding officers of Rifle and Culverin report when their message gets here in another forty minutes,” Desjani grumbled.
Five minutes after that, as the Alliance light cruisers and destroyers raced back toward the main body of the fleet, and the Syndic escape pods kept heading for safety, the Syndic heavy cruiser vanished in a flare of light. “The power core did overload. Why then?” Desjani wondered. “A mistimed booby trap?”
“Maybe. If so, lucky it happened after everyone was clear.” He wondered what had happened to the Syndic commanding officer who had promised to remain aboard her ship. Less than twenty minutes later the Alliance fleet raced across the track of the first damaged Syndic battle cruiser. With no time or fuel cells to waste, Geary simply ordered a half dozen battleships to divert their courses enough for close-in passes on the crippled Syndic warship. Even though the Syndics still had some weapons firing, the Alliance battleships easily crashed the enemy shields as point-blank hell-lance fire methodically smashed the battle cruiser to scrap. “All systems dead on enemy battle cruiser. Crew abandoning ship.”
Desjani hummed a little tune as she watched the wreck of the Syndic battle cruiser tumble in the wake of the Alliance fleet.
Soon afterward, a report arrived from Rifle. The destroyer’s captain seemed bemused as he reported.
“We have fifteen liberated prisoners aboard, Captain Geary. Several have serious injuries that have only received triage treatment. We also have the commanding officer of the Syndic cruiser. She requested to be taken prisoner. Request instructions on where to deliver her and the injured Alliance personnel.”
Desjani was staring at the message window. “First some of our own liberated prisoners ask us to arrest them, and now a Syndic officer asks to be taken prisoner. Has the universe gone mad?”
“She must have had a reason,” Rione insisted. “Captain Geary, we need that Syndic on this ship so she can be interrogated. I have a strong suspicion that we need to know whatever she does about what happened here.”
Geary looked a question at Desjani, who immediately nodded. “Dauntless can take care of the wounded, and we have a cell available for the Syndic.”
He sent a reply, ordering Rifle to close on Dauntless so a shuttle could transfer the personnel, then sending Culverin to Amazon since that battleship had relatively few injured personnel.
“We paid a price for this,” Desjani noted. “The light cruisers and destroyers we sent on that jaunt are going to be well under twenty percent fuel-cell reserves when we jump out of here. Rifle may be down to fifteen percent.” She flipped one hand in a dismissive gesture. “Oh, well. Once our ships get to zero, they can’t get any lower.”
“I hope that was intended as a joke,” Geary said.
“Yes, sir. Whistling past the black hole.”
“WHAT were your orders?”
The Syndic commander who had been captain of the heavy cruiser gazed back levelly at Lieutenant Iger from her seat within the interrogation room on Dauntless. “I am a citizen of the Syndicate Worlds.”
“Was your ship part of the reserve flotilla?”
This time the reply took a moment. “I am a citizen of the Syndicate Worlds.”
The chief at the interrogation panel chuckled softly. “Got you. Lieutenant,” he said into the comm link, “brain patterns and physiological reactions show surprise and worry. She’s wondering how we know about the reserve flotilla.”
“How long was your ship attached to the reserve flotilla?” Iger asked the commander.
“I am a citizen of the Syndicate Worlds.”
The chief frowned slightly at the readouts. “Lieutenant, I can’t get a good call from that. Emotional responses, but hard to tell what they mean. Try baiting her with a characterization of the reserve flotilla.”
Lieutenant Iger nodded again as if acknowledging the Syndic commander’s last statement, but also responding to the chief. “Is it true,” Iger stated, “that the reserve flotilla is made up of the most elite elements of the Syndicate fleet?”
Even Geary could see the emotional responses that statement evoked.
“She didn’t like hearing that,” the chief reported. “Looks like resentment and anger.”
Desjani snorted in derision. “That cruiser wasn’t part of the reserve flotilla, then. It looks like the reserve flotilla thinks highly of itself and didn’t hesitate to let others know that.”
Lieutenant Iger was speaking again. “What are the reserve flotilla’s plans once it reaches Varandal?”
“I am a citizen of the Syndicate Worlds.”
“Lieutenant,” the chief reported, “I didn’t see any deception centers light up.” He looked toward Geary.
“If she knew those plans, then she’d be thinking about how to lie about it, even if all she said was that ‘I’m a citizen’ junk.”
“Thanks, Chief.” Geary glanced at Desjani and Rione. “If her ship wasn’t part of the reserve flotilla, she probably wasn’t told the plan. Chief, have Lieutenant Iger ask her why no one in her crew objected to her surrendering her ship.”
A moment later, Iger did so. The Syndic commander’s jaw visibly tightened, and the chief at the interrogation panel whistled as the brain scan lit up. As the Syndic commander sat silent this time, Lieutenant Iger prodd
ed her. “We know Syndicate Worlds regulations prohibit surrender. Weren’t you worried about what would happen to you?”
The chief nodded as more lights flared on the scan. “She was worried, but it doesn’t seem self-preservation-centered, Lieutenant.”
Lieutenant Iger pursed his mouth as if something had just occurred to him. “Weren’t you worried about what would happen to your family?”
“Direct hit, Lieutenant,” the chief reported. “Looks like she’s very worried about that.”
“Why did you surrender your ship?” Iger pressed, while the Syndic commander glared back at him, saying nothing.
Desjani’s mouth twisted as she looked at the image of the Syndic officer. “Chief, have the lieutenant ask her if she has any questions.”
The chief seemed startled but passed on the instructions.
The Syndic commander stayed silent a moment longer after Iger had asked, then spoke reluctantly. “Are my surviving crew members safe as agreed?”
Geary understood then, nodding to Desjani, who seemed grimly satisfied. “She wanted to save her surviving crew. The only way to do that was to agree to surrender, but she couldn’t let her crew know she’d done that. Even if none of her officers had objected, she still would have been worried about what the Syndic leaders would do to her family if it was known she’d surrendered her ship.”
He tapped the control to allow his voice to sound in the interrogation room. “Commander.” She and Lieutenant Iger looked toward the bulkhead from which Geary’s voice came. “Your crew is safe. Do you have any messages for them?”
A low whistle from the chief. “Major fear spike. Not self-focused, though.”
The Syndic commander took a deep breath. “No. I prefer that they believe I died on my ship.”
“Was that what you told them?” Geary asked. “That you were staying behind to die? Did you lie to your crew?”
The chief nodded. “Looks like it from here.”
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