“More beautiful than ever.”
Bradamont laughed. “It’s a good thing we’re alone in here.”
“And an unfortunate thing that we can’t stay alone in here long, and that it is so confining.”
“Maybe that’s a blessing in disguise. All right. Move over that way as far as you can. We want to be sure you don’t show in the image.”
Rogero scrunched over as far as he could, waiting.
Bradamont tapped a control, her eyes on the video pickup. “Admiral Timbale, this is Captain Honore Bradamont, formerly commanding officer of Dragon. Admiral Geary detached me from the fleet when it returned to Midway Star System and ordered me to serve as a liaison officer to the government and military there. Midway Star System is completely independent of the Syndicate Worlds. It has a stable government that is pursuing a more democratic course and has assisted nearby star systems in throwing off Syndicate Worlds’ authority. Their warships assisted our fleet in the most recent battle there against the enigmas. They need the personnel from the Reserve Flotilla to crew warships that are under construction to defend them against attempts by the Syndicate Worlds to reconquer the Midway Star System.
“Admiral Geary’s fleet is on its way back from Midway but was delayed by Syndic interference. I don’t know exactly what he has run into, but we have learned that the Syndics have a means for temporarily blocking use of their hypernet. That forced Admiral Geary to take his fleet to Sobek. He is doubtless proceeding homeward from there but may have run into Syndic opposition despite the peace agreement. The fleet took considerable combat damage fighting our way through enigma space, during combat with a second alien species, and when defeating a renewed enigma assault on Midway Star System. It is also burdened by the presence of a captured alien warship, which is being brought back to Alliance space, and six ships belonging to a third alien species, which seeks friendly relations with us.
“I can provide you with further information regarding Admiral Geary’s successful mission, but given the extreme sensitivity of the information and my assignment by him to duty at Midway, I do not want it known that I am back at Varandal. Fleet headquarters would surely negate my orders from Admiral Geary as a liaison officer, order me to report to them and provide them with all I know regardless of how Admiral Geary wants to present that information upon his return.
“I am, of course, subject to your orders here. But my interpretation of Admiral Geary’s orders to me is that I should do my utmost to ensure those prisoners of war are returned to Midway Star System, and thereafter continue to monitor the situation there and provide whatever reports I can back to Alliance authorities. I respectfully request that we undertake as soon as possible a transfer of all Syndic prisoners of war in this star system to the freighters under Colonel Rogero’s command.
“Captain Bradamont, out.”
Rogero waited until Bradamont had cut the connection before saying anything. “That ought to be a wide-awake call when he gets it.”
“Oh, yeah.”
Rogero eyed her a moment longer, wondering if he should ask the next question, but finally decided to do so. “Do you believe it? What you said about President Iceni and General Drakon.”
She returned his look. “What did I say? You mean that your government is stable and undertaking democratic reforms? As far as I can tell, it is.”
“What do you think of President Iceni?”
“Are you collecting intelligence on me for your boss, Colonel Rogero?” Bradamont asked. Her tone was light, but there was a real challenge in her eyes.
“No. I want to know what you think. I won’t tell anyone else.”
She paused, frowned, then looked at him. “I think she is one very tough bitch. And I mean that in a good way.”
“You can mean that in a good way?” Rogero asked. “So, you think she really will do things for the people?”
“Yeah, I do. Don’t get in her way. I think people who get in Iceni’s way regret it big-time.”
“What about her primary assistant? That man Togo.”
Bradamont shook her head. “He’s a cipher to me. I haven’t seen enough of him. Now, you answer something for me about your General’s two assistants.”
Rogero laughed. “What a pair, eh? But they are very, very good at what they do, Honore. Individually, each is impressive. Together, they give General Drakon the type of support that equals another brigade of troops, if not more.”
“Do they hate each other as much as it seems?”
“More,” Rogero said. “Morgan had been here a few years when Malin showed up. Instant, mutual hatred. Too much alike if you ask me.”
“Alike?” Bradamont questioned. “Those two?”
“Sure. They just handle things differently. Morgan would laugh while she put a bullet in you. But she would have what she thought a good reason to do it. Malin would, maybe, feel a little sorry when he killed you in cold blood for what he thought was a good reason. But you would be dead, either way. I think they both have big plans. Very different plans, but plans that place them at the center of things.”
Rogero paused. “There was an operation that both Malin and Morgan were on, to take an orbiting platform. This was right after we killed the snakes. It turned out the commander of the platform was a covert snake. While the snake was being killed, Malin put a shot so close to nailing Morgan in the back that it looked like he barely missed a chance to end their feud permanently. But the General didn’t toss him out because that shot killed the snake right before she would have killed Morgan. Funny, isn’t that? If Malin did try to kill her, he instead saved her life. If he did try to save her life . . . well, he saved her life! And she damned near killed him right after that because she thought he’d tried to kill her. Only the friendly-fire inhibits in her weapons saved Malin.”
“I would not want to get on her bad side,” Bradamont said.
“The entire universe is on Morgan’s bad side,” Rogero explained. “I don’t know the details. Some special mission when she was young. The mission messed her up bad. There’s only one person who has Morgan’s undying loyalty. That person is General Drakon, who gave her a chance when no one else would.”
“She’s been nice to me,” Bradamont said. “Respectful. It’s a little scary.”
Rogero felt a bit of a chill, too. “Morgan doesn’t fake nice unless she has a reason. If she’s acting that way, she thinks you are important to her. Or to General Drakon, which may be the same thing in her mind.”
“Why does he keep her around?”
“Because he’s trying to help her. And because General Drakon doesn’t throw away people. And because if he fired her, sent her away, she would be dead within a month. She might take an entire planet with her when she died, but she wouldn’t survive very long without General Drakon’s guidance and support.”
“That’s tough,” Bradamont said. “I take it if you ever said that to her, she would go completely berserk.”
“Yes. Don’t do that.”
“Thanks for the advice.” Bradamont stood up with a longing expression as she looked at him. “Now open that hatch before I lock it and have my way with you, or your soldiers try to break it down to save you from me.”
“Alas, I can be free of the Syndicate, but I can never be free of you,” Rogero said as he opened the hatch.
THEIR first reply to Bradamont’s message came from the Alliance destroyers.
“You are to follow the attached vector in-system toward the vicinity of Ambaru station,” Lieutenant Commander Baader informed Rogero. “All six freighters must conform to the indicated velocity and course. Sai and Assegai will accompany your ships to ensure that you remain on vector. Baader, out.”
“Get moving,” Rogero told the freighter executive. “Make sure the other ships do the same.”
“Those Alliance destroyers aren’t escorting us,” the executive complained. “They’ll stay close so they can blow us apart if we go off vector.”
“Then don’t
go off vector.”
Bradamont came by the bridge, waving at him. “Your comm watch says there’s an incoming message using Alliance encryption.”
“Let’s go see what it says,” Rogero said. He followed her to the tiny comm compartment, waited while the soldier on duty left, then pulled the hatch shut. The small size of the compartment meant that he had to stand near Bradamont, but that wasn’t exactly a hardship.
“Captain Bradamont, this is Admiral Timbale. I am, needless to say, surprised.” Timbale gazed out from the comm display as if he could actually see Bradamont in real time. “That’s good news about Admiral Geary’s being on his way back and having successfully completed his mission. And that’s bad news about the Syndics being able to play games with the hypernet. I want to know everything you can tell me about what has happened to Admiral Geary and his fleet since they left Varandal. Do I understand correctly that three intelligent nonhuman species have been discovered? That is remarkable.
“You’ve given me all of the reasons I need to hand over those prisoners. I’ve wanted to get rid of them for some time, but no one would take them.” Timbale scratched one cheek, his eyes on something beside him. “I’ve got five thousand two hundred and fifty-one Syndic prisoners here. Most of them from that Reserve Flotilla, but several hundred from other sources. Can you take them all? Let me know as soon as possible. If we have to sort out the Reserve Flotilla survivors from the others, it might take a while.
“Now, the hard part. There has to be a physical transfer of custody,” Timbale insisted, tapping one finger on his desk for emphasis. “There’s no exception allowed under these circumstances. Someone has to be handed the agreement and make a legally binding statement of acceptance in my presence. Needless to say, I can’t go to the Syndics. To the people of Midway, rather. The symbolism would be very bad since they still look too much like Syndics. One of them, their senior officer, has to come to us, has to arrive at Ambaru station so we can meet the physical requirements for turnover of the prisoners.”
“Damn,” Bradamont muttered.
“That would be me,” Rogero said. “Can I trust Timbale?”
“Yes. He wouldn’t approve of trapping you, not when you’re here at Admiral Geary’s behest. He’d give me some sort of subtle sign that everything wasn’t on the up and up.”
“I’m aware of the risk to Colonel Rogero that this might entail,” Timbale continued. “By the way, the fact that they’ve started using military ranks instead of the Syndic executives and CEOs thing really helped me make up my mind to agree with this. Nonetheless, legally, I have to cover my butt on the transfer, or compliance officers might throw up obstacles that will put a stop to the transfer for who knows how long. We’ll keep the meeting as low-profile as possible, which won’t be much. Some word will leak out, especially among the civilians in the dock area when it actually goes down, but I’ll have plenty of Marines there to provide security on the dock.”
“You can’t ask for better than that,” Bradamont said.
“Alliance Marines?” Rogero asked. “Is the prospect of being surrounded by Alliance Marines supposed to comfort me?”
“They’re damned good fighters, Donal!”
“I know! I’ve fought them! That’s why the idea of being surrounded by them does not make me feel better!”
Timbale was finishing up. “It will take those tubs you’re riding a while to get close to Ambaru. Not too close, mind you. No one wants Syndic-origin freighters getting within danger range of this station. But the time required for your trip will give me time to get those prisoners up here and ready to shuttle over to you. Timbale, out.”
Bradamont gave Rogero a demanding look. “Can I tell him we’re good with this?”
“We’re good with it? I’m the one who is going to have set foot on that station. What is Alliance intelligence going to do when they hear that Colonel Donal Rogero is literally on their doorstep?”
“First,” Bradamont insisted, “they have to figure out that the Midway Colonel Rogero is the same as Sub-CEO Donal Rogero of the Syndicate Worlds’ ground forces. Second, if they do, the Marines will be there. Third, if somehow Alliance intelligence does get its hands on you, I will personally go onto that station and get you back no matter what it takes. I will not have you treated here as I was by the Syndics even if I have to do things that neither Admiral Timbale nor Admiral Geary would approve of.”
Rogero looked at her and felt himself smiling. “How was it you characterized President Iceni?”
“What? Why did you bring that up?”
“No reason. Tell your Admiral Timbale that I’ll be there.”
She gave him another look, this one suspicious, then hit the send command. “Admiral Timbale, thank you. I will provide what I can via this message about Admiral Geary and our activities in alien-controlled space. Before I begin, Colonel Rogero has agreed to the physical turnover of prisoners aboard Ambaru. I assured him that there would be no danger to him when you had promised his safety. I must, however, inform you that it is very likely that Colonel Rogero has a high-priority flag on his files in our intelligence system. It is purely an intelligence matter. It has nothing to do with his actions in the war. You have my word of honor, sir, that it is not a war-crimes flag.
“Here is a summary of what Admiral Geary’s fleet encountered . . .”
AFTER a long, plodding voyage that was the best the freighters could manage, they were close enough to Ambaru station, within a few light-seconds, for the communication delays to be almost unnoticeable. “Believe it or not, Captain Bradamont,” Admiral Timbale said, “I have some qualms about turning some of these Syndics over to those Midway people. There’s no doubt that at least a few of the prisoners are die-hard Syndicate Worlds’ patriots. What will your Midway people do with them?”
“Are any of them snakes, Admiral?” Bradamont asked, exchanging a glance with Rogero.
“Snakes?”
“Syndic Internal Security Service.”
“Oh, those guys. No. None of them are tagged with that.”
Rogero leaned in. “Admiral Timbale, only ISS agents would face danger at our hands, and that is because of the blood of our people on their hands. Each of our freighters has a small ground forces unit aboard for security, so we need not fear actions by the Syndicate loyalists. We will drop off along the way to Midway anyone who does not want to join us.”
Timbale paused, then spoke heavily. “Drop off? Admiral Geary has had some influence on me, Colonel. I would feel guilty if I turned over to you prisoners who were subsequently pushed out of air locks to get rid of them.”
Rogero shook his head firmly. “We will not do that. General Drakon’s orders.”
“What’s that?”
“We have orders not to kill prisoners. We will obey those orders, Admiral. Any prisoners released to us who do not wish to join with us will be delivered to one of the Syndicate-controlled star systems we pass through on our way home. Safely delivered.”
Timbale studied Rogero, then nodded. “Very well, Colonel. The first shuttle is on its way to the freighter carrying you. Ride it back here, and we’ll get this done. Don’t worry, I’m not going to wait for the completion of the physical turnover before we start shoveling Syndic prisoners at you. Make sure those freighters are ready to take a lot of prisoners and take them fast.”
Bradamont spoke warily. “Are there any grounds for concern, Admiral? Any security threats?”
“I don’t have ironclad control of every unit in this star system, Captain. Not even close. So far, I’ve presented a very carefully tailored account of what’s going to happen to everyone. But at some point, some of the Alliance military forces that don’t answer to me might get orders from some other high-ranking officer to do things that you and I and Colonel Rogero wouldn’t like at all, especially given what you told me about possible Alliance intelligence interest in Rogero. The faster we get this done, the better.”
“That does not sound good,” Rogero s
aid after Timbale had signed off.
“No,” Bradamont agreed. “Get in, get out, get back here in one piece.”
“I’ll do my best.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
HE had entered Alliance orbital installations before. He had done so wearing combat armor, at the head of soldiers, fighting against defenders sometimes frantic and sometimes determined, but almost always tough. In Colonel Rogero’s mind, the thought of an Alliance orbital installation conjured up images of torn metal, smoke filling those passageways not open to vacuum, and death walking all about him as attackers and defenders fought and bled.
It felt unreal now to step from a shuttle, an Alliance shuttle, onto the clean, smooth surface of an undamaged loading dock, out into an open passageway beyond.
But Alliance Marines waited there, armed and armored for combat, though their face shields were open in a small gesture of peace. Despite the open face shields, the Marines’ weapons looked to Rogero as if they were all powered-up and ready to fire, which did nothing for his peace of mind. Alliance Marines in combat armor aroused some very unpleasant memories for him. But he remembered that Honore Bradamont had walked onto a former Syndicate warship, surrounded by former Syndicate officers and crew, to do her duty. I can do no less than her.
The Marine officer in command gestured wordlessly to Rogero, then led the way into a larger area where crowds of civilians were visible on either hand. The crowds were held back by more Marines as the numbers of civilians swelled rapidly. Apparently, word of his visit had spread quickly but only recently so that spectators were rushing to view the event.
Admiral Timbale waited in the center of the open area, standing stiffly as if on sentry.
As Rogero appeared among the ranks of the Marines, a low sound arose from the crowds, the murmur of many voices speaking at once so no one voice could be understood. He could not hear the words, but he could sense the feelings behind them. The crowds sounded . . . curious. He didn’t wear a Syndicate uniform. He wasn’t a prisoner. For so long the universe had been divided into two sides. You were Alliance, including the much lesser allies like the Callas Republic or the Rift Federation, or you were Syndicate. But Rogero looked like something else. Something new. What?
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