“I should have warned you earlier,” she said. “Saying for the people would tag you as Syndics.”
“They’ll probably tag us as Syndicate, anyway. But, with any luck,” Rogero commented, “they’ll be curious enough about the information on Black Jack to avoid destroying us.”
“They know that Admiral Timbale will be curious,” Bradamont replied. “And they won’t want to make him mad.”
Rogero watched the freighter’s limited display update, an apparently endless array of warships, support craft, civilian ships, repair facilities, and defensive installations popping up in fits and starts. “Black Jack isn’t even here,” Rogero murmured. “And look at all of it.”
Bradamont heard. “There aren’t that many warships present, and those here are cruisers and smaller.”
“That’s more than big enough for us to worry about,” the freighter executive grumbled.
Less than thirty seconds passed before a reply came in from one of the destroyers. “This is Lieutenant Commander Baader of the Alliance destroyer Sai. Your status and your political allegiance are unknown to us, Colonel Rogero. You and your ships look Syndic.”
Bradamont made an encouraging gesture, and Rogero tapped the controls again. “I am a colonel in the ground forces of the free and independent star system of Midway. My allegiance is to our President Iceni, and to my commander, General Drakon. We no longer answer to the Syndicate. The Syndicate is our enemy. We are at peace with the Alliance and have fought alongside your Admiral Geary at Midway.”
This time almost a minute passed before Lieutenant Commander Baader’s image once more appeared. “We have forwarded your message to Admiral Timbale, Colonel Rogero. Your freighters are to remain in this orbit until we receive clearance for you to proceed farther.”
“More waiting?” Rogero asked.
“More waiting,” Bradamont agreed. “They’ve bumped the matter upstairs, which was the smartest thing they could do.”
Light crawled across the light-hours to the massive orbiting Ambaru station where Admiral Timbale had his headquarters, then crawled back. Awoken from a restless sleep by the freighter’s second officer, Rogero returned to the bridge, collecting Bradamont along the way.
“This is Admiral Timbale.” The admiral looked thoughtful as well as suspicious, which Rogero thought a good sign. “We would of course be happy to repatriate the Syndic prisoners currently held here, especially to representatives of a star system that has thrown off the Syndic yoke. But this is a delicate issue given the history between our two peoples. I will need to request guidance from higher authority. Your ships will have to wait here until I receive an answer, which will require at least two weeks.”
Rogero looked over at Captain Bradamont, who made a face. “That was worst case,” she said. “But now we have a transmission ID that I can send a reply to. Can this ship’s comm gear handle a tight beam, secure, eyes only send?”
“It couldn’t before we installed some upgrades for the mission to Taroa,” Rogero replied. “That’s not standard freighter comm gear. But to use the upgraded equipment we’ll need to go to a compartment we rigged up for that.”
He led her along the passageways of the freighter, nearly empty at this hour of ship’s time, to a hatch leading into a small compartment which from the smells still lingering inside had once been used to store potatoes and onions. One of Rogero’s soldiers maintained a lone watch over the equipment despite the unlikelihood of any messages coming in aimed at its parameters. “Are you going to send it in the clear?” Rogero asked Bradamont.
She held up a data coin. “This contains the necessary Alliance codes. Admiral Geary provided me with them in case I needed to send an encoded message through your channels.”
“Very well.” Rogero gestured to the comm operator. “Up and out.”
The operator stood, saluted, and left the compartment without a word.
“Your people don’t tend to ask questions,” Bradamont observed as she sat down at the comm station.
“The Syndicate hierarchy frowns on workers asking questions,” Rogero replied as he closed and locked the hatch. “For my soldiers, it’s a lesson learned over a lifetime and not easily broken.”
She looked at him for a moment, a brief smile showing. “You don’t seem to have learned that lesson.”
“No, and you saw what happened to me. I went from being ordered to labor-camp staff to being one step from becoming the occupant of a labor camp myself. If not for General Drakon, I would have probably died in one.”
“Me, too,” Bradamont said, her eyes back on the comm gear. “Until you told me, I never realized that he was the one who suggested to the snakes that our relationship could be used by them. If not for that, the snakes wouldn’t have leaked the information about my transfer to another labor camp to the Alliance, so I could be liberated.”
Rogero nodded. “He is a good man. He no longer believes he is a good man, but I believe it.”
Another short pause as Bradamont looked at him. “Why? Why does Drakon have such an opinion of himself?”
“He was a CEO. To reach the ranks of a CEO, to survive in such a system, requires doing things that would eat the soul of any person. I have met all too many CEOs who showed no signs of missing their souls. General Drakon somehow retained most of his.” Rogero tapped his chest. “But that means he also knows in his heart the wrongs he did.”
“Ignorance is bliss,” Bradamont muttered. “It was an ugly war. Has any war ever been anything but ugly? We all carry scars inside us from that.”
“It wasn’t just the war, Honore. It was the system. The Syndicate system. You ate others, or the system ate you.”
She nodded, not looking at him this time. “But you got rid of that way of doing things. You’re going to make a better way. If General Drakon and President Iceni don’t screw it up.” Bradamont sat back, running her hands through her hair. “It’s ready for the transmission. How do I look?”
“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 pro
vide 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 ver
y 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?”
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