She squirmed through the access, cursing the bulk of her battle armor, onto the deck outside, and stood up as Lamar followed, and then the rest of the group. With all attention focused toward the two attacks, no one seemed to have noticed them. She handed her rifle to one of the force recon soldiers. “At a trot, as if we’re going somewhere on orders but not running or attacking or anything like that.”
The small force set off, the five Marines in the center, the four ground soldiers spaced around them. Mele kept looking around as they moved at a fast pace, watching for trouble. The jamming cut off, but Mele’s broadcast had been stopped anyway once the diversions began.
A bigger explosion rocked the dock, the shaking apparent even without the help of the battle armor sensors. Enemy soldiers were rushing toward the left and center of the dock area to confront the diversions, which Mele thought were producing an impressive amount of firepower. If she’d been the enemy commander, she’d have believed an all-out assault was being launched against the dock.
They were two-thirds of the way across the dock when she saw trouble approaching at an angle, a single enemy soldier who changed course, veered to intercept them, planted themselves in front of one of Mele’s soldiers, and gestured vigorously.
What the hell was the enemy ape doing? He or she seemed to be addressing Mele’s soldier, but of course that soldier wasn’t on the enemy’s frequency so he wouldn’t be hearing anything.
“I think whoever this is, is chewing me out for something I did or didn’t do,” the force recon soldier reported to Mele.
She didn’t want a fight to erupt here, out in the open, where the enemy might spot it immediately. “Try saluting.”
The force recon soldier stiffened to attention and saluted as if acknowledging the unheard orders and/or grievances being directed at her.
It didn’t work. The enemy soldier seemed willing to keep going for hours.
Mele looked toward the sound of the fighting, which had begun to taper off quickly as the enemy pushed forward in superior numbers and her own diversionary forces faded away to avoid being trapped.
Enough. Mele drew her sidearm as she stepped next to the angry enemy soldier. The soldier hesitated as the barrel of Mele’s weapon touched the enemy helmet at a weak spot, but Mele fired before the enemy could react.
As the enemy soldier was flung sideways by the impact of the shot, Mele grabbed her rifle from the soldier holding it. “Follow me!”
She ran, knowing the others would be behind her, seeing the two sentries at the freighter noticing and raising their weapons. Mele jerked herself to a halt, aiming carefully. She fired just as other shots went off around her. One sentry dropped, then as more shots came from Mele’s group, the second fell.
Her armor’s sensors warned of shots from the side as the enemy soldiers who had been distracted by the diversion realized what was happening and opened fire on Mele’s group. But those shots were from much farther off, and Mele’s group was almost to the freighter now.
She hurled herself into the air lock, shoving the fallen soldiers aside, hitting the emergency close control. Mele and the others huddled against the sides of the air lock as a flurry of shots followed them into the freighter and impacted on the inner air lock hatch.
The outer air lock hatch slammed shut, enemy projectiles rattling off of it like hail. “Lock this hatch,” Mele told Giddings. “Lamar, get the inner hatch open.”
Mele waited, tense, as Giddings worked the air lock controls. “I reset the lock. That’ll hold ’em for a couple of minutes,” he said.
“Inner door opening,” Lamar said, her weapon already aimed toward the interior of the freighter.
A shocked-looking enemy soldier in a skin suit stood staring at them for only a second before Lamar smashed her rifle butt against his head and knocked him against the side of the passageway.
Mele looked up and down the passageway they were in to be sure no one else had to be dealt with immediately. “Section One with me. Sergeant Lamar, you know where to go. Don’t let anything slow you down or stop you.”
“Got it, Major. Come on, Section Two!” Sergeant Lamar ran aft, followed by Privates Ford and MacKinder, and two of the force recon soldiers.
Mele ran forward, along with Sergeant Giddings and the remaining two soldiers.
Unlike warships, freighters all pretty much had the same layout, their design driven by requirements that didn’t vary much from ship to ship. And Mele had made her Marines practice getting around inside freighters every time one of them stopped at Glenlyon. Which hadn’t been that often in the last several months, but enough to gain some familiarization with the deck plans. She knew the control deck, which was what freighters called their bridge, would be up forward and centered.
She didn’t have to hesitate as the passageway split. Coming around a corner, she found two enemy soldiers in battle armor running toward them and fired before the startled enemy could, she and her force recon soldiers pumping rounds into the enemy faceplates until both soldiers fell.
Around another corner, down a short passageway, to the right again, and there was the hatch onto the control deck, centered in the forward bulkhead, sealed and locked. “Glitch! Get it open. You two,” she told the soldiers with her, “watch that direction.”
Mele turned to guard the other approach, her weapon at the ready. She heard one of the soldiers behind her fire.
“One enemy, no armor. They ducked back!” the soldier called.
“Waiting for reinforcements,” the second soldier guessed.
“How are we doing?” Mele asked Giddings. “Do we have to blow it open?”
“Nah. Almost . . . got it.” Giddings stood up as the hatch swung open, his weapon centered on the opening. He went through as Mele backed toward it.
“Come on,” she told the force recon soldiers, waiting until the soldiers went through, then following. “Get it shut and locked again, then join me,” she told Giddings. “You two guard it,” she told the soldiers. “Don’t let anyone through.”
“No one’s coming through that door, Major,” one of the soldiers said.
Spinning, Mele faced the two-meter-long passage leading onto the control deck.
Instead of moving cautiously she ran the last two meters and hurled herself out onto the control deck, her rifle seeking targets.
Several civilian sailors stood staring at her, frozen in surprise.
Mele came to a halt against a control panel on the forward bulkhead, hoping that she hadn’t inadvertently banged into one of the controls, her rifle leveled at the sailors. She set her helmet’s speaker to relay her voice now that she was inside the freighter with atmosphere and people could hear it. “Who’s in charge?”
One sailor hesitated as the others looked at him.
“You,” Mele said, aiming her rifle directly at the man, whose eyes seemed to have doubled in size as he watched her. “I’m Major Darcy, Glenlyon Marines. I hereby take control of this ship in the name of the government of the star system of Glenlyon. No one will be harmed unless they give me a hard time. Where’s your comm to the ship’s power core compartment?”
“I . . . I don’t . . .”
“Did you hear what I said about people who give me a hard time?”
One of the other sailors lurched toward a nearby panel, pointing. “That control.”
Mele went to it, keeping her weapon pointed at the freighter crew members, who backed away as she advanced. The display there had glowing virtual buttons helpfully labeled with compartment names and functions. She pressed the one that said “engineering.” “This is the bridge. Who’s there?”
The reply came quickly. “Corporal La— I mean, Sergeant Lamar, Glenlyon Marines. That you, Major?”
“That’s me. Any problems?”
“We had to plow our way through a few hostiles, but we’re inside and the hatch is sealed. Oh, we’ve also got two freighter crew members in here, but both claim they know nothing about engineering and were just in here for some privacy.”
“Pick a button that looks important and push it to see what happens,” Mele ordered.
A few seconds later she heard a commotion over the intercom, then Lamar came back on. “Wow. That made her really angry. Or worried. She moved like a scared cat to keep me from pushing that button. Yeah, she’s the engineer.”
“Is she hurt?”
“Um . . . not much.”
“Okay.”
“Should I still push the button?” Lamar asked.
“NO!” Mele said, trying to put as much force as possible behind the word. “Do not.”
“Major!” one of her soldiers called. “There’s someone trying to force this hatch!”
Mele touched another control labeled “general announcing.” “Everyone aboard this ship, this is Major Darcy of the Glenlyon Marines. We are in possession of the control deck and the ship’s power core. Any attempts to force entry into either compartment will result in us destroying critical equipment.
“You should be aware that I’m saving all of your lives by capturing this ship. Glenlyon has achieved space superiority and would be moving to destroy this ship if we had not captured it.
“I want the senior officer aboard to contact me. I repeat, any attempts to force entry into the control deck or the power core compartment will result in critical damage to both areas, which would leave you all helpless as our destroyers arrive to blow you away. Contact me on the control deck.”
Mele called back to her soldiers, “Are they still trying to get in?”
“No, ma’am! They’ve stopped.”
“Keep an eye on it and kill anyone who tries to come through.”
The ship’s captain had finally found his voice, though it quavered slightly. “We’ll do what we’re told. We won’t try anything.” From the looks of him, he’d been running freighters for a long time, the sort of old hand that had more and more trouble finding steady work as younger officers were hired instead. He’d probably ended up this far out because he couldn’t find a job closer to Old Earth. “We’re not soldiers like you.”
“I’m not a soldier,” Mele said, her voice colder than she’d intended. “I’m a Marine.”
“Uh . . .”
“We won’t harm noncombatants,” Mele repeated. She had kept her rifle aimed toward the captain of the freighter and finally moved it a little to one side.
“Control deck, this is Captain Horvath of the Hesta Peacekeeping Expedition,” a man’s voice said over the speakers on the control deck.
“This is Major Darcy,” Mele said. “Are you prepared to surrender those aboard this freighter to me?”
“I don’t have authority to do that,” Horvath replied. “I need to speak with Colonel Busik, our commanding officer. That may take some time.”
“How much time?”
“Half an hour. I’ve ordered my soldiers aboard the freighter to avoid taking any action until we receive commands from the colonel.”
“All right,” Mele said. “Talk to your colonel. We won’t block your transmissions from this ship. But no nonsense and don’t take too long. I’ve got three enlisted Marines in the power core compartment, and if they get nervous or bored they might start pushing buttons to see what happens.”
“I understand. Are you aware that those members of your force that we have made prisoner are aboard this ship?”
“That’s why we captured it,” Mele said. “Do I have to emphasize that nothing had better happen to those prisoners?”
“We are not criminals,” Captain Horvath said, his pride clearly stung. “We abide by the common rules of war. I wanted to ensure that you knew any actions you take to endanger this ship will also endanger your own captured personnel. I will now contact Colonel Busik.”
Sergeant Giddings came onto the control deck and leaned against one of the seats bolted to the deck. “The hatch is locked, Major, and I reset the controls so only I can open it without forced entry munitions.”
“Good. How are the ground apes doing?”
“Happy. They got to hit back at the bad guys. I feel real bad for anyone who tries to come through that hatch.” Giddings looked around. “Man, they’ve got old gear on this tub. But they’ve kept it up well.”
Mele had seen the crew’s defensive reactions to Giddings’s first observation, and how they’d relaxed a bit when he added the second. “Are you the owners?” she asked the crew.
“Yes,” one of the older ones answered. “We bought it on shares. That was when Hesta was free.”
“Shhh!” another sailor tried to hush him.
“I won’t be silent! That puppet government that runs things on Hesta now told us we’d been seized for not paying some taxes that no one had ever heard of. We had to do this, Citizen Marine! This ship is our lives!”
Mele nodded. “As long as everybody plays nice, you might get this ship back in one piece. We won’t damage anything we don’t have to, and Glenlyon isn’t in the business of seizing property unless there’s a good legal reason for it.”
Sergeant Giddings indicated the controls. “Can you guys show us the situation in space?”
“If that’s okay,” the captain said, eyeing Mele warily.
She nodded, and the captain brought a display to life. “This is the situation in the region of this planet. You see . . .” He paused, looking stunned. “Those are the warships that accompanied us! They’re leaving!”
“So they are,” Mele said.
“You told us the truth!”
“Yeah, that happens sometimes. What’s that there?”
“That’s, um, your ship. The destroyer. The way it’s moving, it must have been badly damaged. They don’t seem able to control the ship.”
Damn. Mele tried to block emotion from her voice. “What about your ships? The warships. Are they damaged?”
“It’s hard to tell. We’re a freighter, not a warship or a research ship. Our sensors can’t . . .” The captain paused again. “Something seems to be wrong with the bigger warship. That’s all I know.”
Rob Geary had been in a fight, and hopefully had accomplished what he needed to. “Show me what’s going on in the rest of the star system.”
“The rest? There’s nothing—” The captain had run out the scale on the display and stopped speaking as he stared. “Four more warships. Headed this way very fast.”
“You didn’t know about those?” Mele asked.
“Only from your announcement. We had orders from the warships. Keep our display on local region only. I . . . I guess they didn’t want us to panic.”
“Will they attack us?” another sailor asked, her voice frantic with worry.
“Not as long as my people are in control of this ship,” Mele said. “So cooperating would be a really good idea. You guys got any coffee?”
Twenty minutes later Mele accepted a transmission to the ship from the enemy forces on the facility. The ground forces colonel who stared impassively from the display bore the marks of too many days with too little sleep aggravated by frustration and regret. “This is Colonel Busik, commanding officer of the Hesta Peacekeeping Expedition.”
“Major Darcy, Glenlyon Marines,” she replied. “I believe that you’re Colonel Busik, but I don’t believe that you’re really under Hesta’s command, and you and I both know your mission wasn’t about keeping the peace.”
“That’s the official name of the unit,” Busik said, glowering.
“All right. Call it what you want. Are you ready to talk?”
Colonel Busik inhaled, looking down, before raising his gaze to look at her again. “Major Darcy, I have been able to confirm the information that you broadcast. That your forces now have superiority in space due to the arrival of reinforcements, and that the warships supporting my unit are . . . conducting a tactical withdrawal.”
“A tactical withdrawal? Is that what they’re calling running away?” Mele asked.
“I see no sense in debating terminology,” Busik said. “My request for an explanation from the warships supporting us has not been answered. I understand the situation. My forces have lost any means to withdraw, as well as our supplies. I have no wish to lose any more soldiers in this battle now that the outcome is our certain defeat. Will you negotiate in good faith?”
Mele nodded. “So far we’ve been trying to kill each other in a civilized fashion. I think we can also negotiate in a civilized way. Which is my way of saying that you and your forces have conducted yourselves honorably, so I have every intention of conducting these negotiations in the same manner.”
“Good. I want to ensure an immediate cease-fire goes into effect for both sides. I’ve already ordered my soldiers to remain in their current locations and only fire if first fired upon.”
Mele nodded once more. “Stop your jamming and I’ll see to it that the same orders go out to my Marines and the ground forces soldiers under my command. I’d like to ensure that all prisoners taken by your forces are also not in any danger.”
Colonel Busik frowned again, as if upset by the question. “They are not in danger. Order them to remain in place, though, until we arrange their official release.”
“I’ll do that,” Mele said. “I’d like an accounting of prisoners as soon as possible.”
“Of course. Do your forces have any prisoners from my unit?”
“I honestly don’t know,” Mele said. “My communications with the subunits on this facility have been intermittent. Once your jamming ceases I will order that I be immediately notified if any prisoners are held by any of my forces.”
“Done. Do I have your word that negotiations may now proceed face-to-face without any danger to the participants?”
“You have my word,” Mele said. “I’ll meet your delegation at the main air lock to the freighter in one half hour.”
“Good. I’ll be there with some of my staff. No weapons. I give my word your safety and that of your representatives is also guaranteed.” He paused to study her image. “They told us on the way here that this would be a walkover. That we’d be going up against amateurs led by a self-important corporal promoted far past her level of competence.”
That sounded almost like something that Colonel Menziwa would say. Mele gave Colonel Busik a thin-lipped look. “When you’re working for someone who lies to everybody, it’s not really surprising when they also lie to you, is it?”
Busik nodded, some distress showing in his eyes. “I don’t like to think that my soldiers died because of lies.”
“But you know they did.”
The colonel nodded again. “Yes. Busik, out.”
Mele let out a long breath of relief. “When mercenaries choose the wrong employer, they pay an awful price. Sergeant Giddings, let me know when the enemy jamming stops.”
“Yes, ma’am. I . . . it just stopped. All frequencies are clear. I can relay you through the freighter’s systems so you’ve got a lot of power.”
Setting her comms to broadcast to her entire force, Mele spoke as clearly as she could. “All Marines and Glenlyon ground forces operating on the orbital facility, this is Major Darcy. Thanks to your own guts and determination, as well as the support of the space squids, we’ve won. I am on the freighter, which we now control, and am negotiating the surrender of the attacking force, whose commander has agreed to immediately cease combat operations. All units are to remain in place until further notice, and cease firing unless attacked. I say again, remain in place and do not fire unless fired upon. Individual unit commanders are to contact me using the command net frequency to confirm your receipt of these orders, and to advise whether you are in possession of any enemy prisoners. Darcy, over.”
Almost immediately her comm light came on. “Major, this is Gunnery Sergeant Moon. I understand your orders and will carry them out. The Marines with me have no prisoners. Moon, over.”
“Major, this is Sergeant Major Savak. Understood and will obey. Three prisoners. Savak, over.”
“Lieutenant Paratnam, Major. Orders received and understood. Two prisoners. Paratnam, over.”
“This is Corporal Oshiro, Major. Understand orders. No prisoners with my group. Oshiro, over.”
“This is Sergeant Karlal. My unit merged with the remnants of Lieutenant Killian’s force. Orders understood. Five prisoners. Karlal, over.”
“Corporal Rajput, reporting in. Orders received and understood. No prisoners with us. Rajput, over.”
Mele paused before replying. “All groups, stand by for further orders. Darcy, out.” They’d begun with about one hundred forty Marines and soldiers divided into eleven groups. Counting Mele’s companions, there were only seven groups left. She wasn’t looking forward to seeing the casualty lists, to seeing how small those groups now were, to knowing how many had died to make this victory happen. Colonel Busik’s words came back to her. “I don’t like to think that my soldiers died because of lies.” At least she knew that wasn’t true of those who had died defending Glenlyon.
But at the moment that was very cold comfort indeed.
“Main propulsion back online. Ready to boost at full,” Chief Petty Officer Quinton reported.
“How’re maneuvering thrusters?” Rob Geary asked.
“Online.”
“Lieutenant Cameron—”
“I have the intercept ready, Captain. I’ve been keeping it continually updating.”
“Send it to me.” Rob looked over the solution. They’d be in a stern chase. Only the damage to the enemy light cruiser’s propulsion gave Saber a chance of catching the enemy again, nearly two days from now. “Do we have enough fuel cells for this?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Execute.”
As soon as Saber had steadied out on her new course, Rob stood up from the command chair, feeling stiff. “I’m going to sick bay, and then checking out the rest of the ship.”
He left the bridge, walking carefully until his legs loosened up.
Don’t look gloomy or sad. Grim. That was it. Grim and confident. Be a leader. Show you respected and grieved for the sacrifices, but were still strong and believed in them and were ready to lead them into other fights. That was what Rob thought the crew needed to see. He tried to show them that. Not because he wanted them to think more of him, but because he wanted them to know what he thought of them. They deserved the best he could show them.
Sick bay was a crowded shambles, Chief Petty Officer Austin working continuously to save the lives of the wounded, the bodies of those he couldn’t save set aside. Rob gazed on it for a moment, not wanting to interrupt Austin’s work. He was about to leave when he saw one of the wounded watching him, and instead stepped in, careful not to hinder Chief Austin. He spoke to those who were conscious, telling them all how well they’d done and how Saber was still in the fight.
Chief Austin finished working on one patient and paused, slumping with weariness.
“Is there anything I can do?” Rob asked.
“Stop sending me work,” Austin said. “Sir.”
“I’ll try.”
Rob went on to tour the rest of the ship, checking on the damage, and speaking with the still-healthy crew members, who all seemed eager to hit the enemy again, to make them pay for the losses they’d inflicted on Saber. “We’ll catch them,” Rob promised.
He found the weapons officer supervising attempted repairs to the knocked-out grapeshot launcher. “This is going to take a while, Captain, but number one particle beam is back online and ready to go,” the weapons officer reported.
“Just give us a target, Captain!” one of the gunner’s mates said as her comrades nodded their approval.
“You’ll get one,” Rob said.
Eventually he was back in his stateroom, where he sat down and stared at nothing for a while, alone where he could let his real feelings show.
“Hey, Doc. Glad you made it.”
Corporal Okubo, who looked like he hadn’t slept since Mele last saw him, turned and offered a salute rendered sloppy by fatigue. “Yes, ma’am.”
She looked around the medical compartment on the freighter, where wounded Marines and ground forces soldiers from both sides lay in bunks, grouped by their medical status rather than their allegiance, then indicated the man standing next to her. “This is Captain Horvath of the Hestan forces.”
“We’ve met,” Okubo said.
“We’re working out surrender arrangements.”
“I’m sorry to hear that, Major.”
Mele blinked. “They’re surrendering to us.”
“Oh.”
“How are your patients?”
“Haven’t lost any.” Okubo gestured toward a Marine lying sedated in one of the bunks. “I told you if I stayed I could save him.”
“What about the enemy ground ape you were also working on?”
“She’s over there.”
Mele looked, seeing the soldier, her face also slack with sedation. But alive. “Who else you got here? I’ll get to everybody, but are there any of our officers and noncommissioned?”
“Captain Batra. Over that way. And Yoshi, Corporal Yoshida, over there.”
“Good. Corporal Okubo.”
“Yes, ma’am?” Okubo responded, trying to focus bleary eyes on her.
“There are two ground forces medics who came with me, one enemy, one friendly. They can handle things here for a while. Turn over with them, then sedate yourself. That’s an order.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Mele went to where a sentry stood. “You know Captain Horvath?”
“Yes, ma’am,” the sentry replied.
“Your orders are to stay on your post, but not fire unless directly threatened with deadly force,” Horvath said. “Do you understand?”
“Yes, Captain.”
“This is Private Ford,” Mele said, waving Ford forward. “He’ll stand guard here for my people. Same orders, Ford. No shooting unless someone is trying to shoot you. Understand?”
“Yeah, Major. Can I talk to him or anybody else?”
“As long as you stay alert. No hugs.”
“Got it, Major.”
“You okay?” Mele asked Captain Horvath.
“Yes,” Horvath said. “With your permission, I will check on my own wounded.”
“Be my guest. I’m going over to talk to some of mine.”
Corporal Yoshida looked at her anxiously when she stopped by his bunk. “Major, we got ambushed.”
“I heard,” Mele said. “What happened to Lieutenant Nasir?”
“They must have figured out he was in charge, because their first volley took him out, ma’am. He never had a chance.”
“Damn.” Mele closed her eyes for a moment before looking at Yoshida again. “How many others did we lose in your group?”
“Five or six. I think. From what I saw before I got hit. But some of those might’ve been wounded.”
“Okay,” she said. “We won. Did I mention that? Good work. We’ll get you fixed up and back on duty in no time.”
“Major . . .” Yoshida blinked back tears. “I did my best. I did. There were just too many—”
“I know you did your best, Yoshi. You did good. Take it easy, okay?”
A few meters away, Captain Batra lay on a bunk, his midsection immobilized. “Got it in the gut, huh?” she said.
Batra, his face noticeably thinner than it had been when last she saw him, looked at her, his lips twitching into an attempt at a smile. “Hello, Major. I heard we won.”
“You heard right.”
“You told me . . . when I’d done something . . . I could discuss your experience.”
Mele paused to remember that conversation. “So I did. What is it you want to say?”
“That you were right, Major. And that I and my soldiers are fortunate you were in command here.”
“Words are cheap, Captain.” Mele leaned down to give him a questioning look. “Next time I’m at your base, are you going to buy me a drink?”
“I’ll buy you a whole bottle. Old Earth booze.”
“I’m going to hold you to that.”
“How did you manage to capture this ship? I thought it would be very well guarded.”
Mele shook her head. “Until our new friends showed up with a lot of shiny destroyers, any attempt to capture this freighter would’ve been stupid. We just would’ve been sticking our own heads into a trap and waiting for the enemy to lop them off. As long as the enemy warships were hanging nearby we couldn’t have gone anywhere with this ship without being attacked immediately. All we could’ve done was hold out at the dock until a counterattack recaptured the ship. The enemy commander knew that as well as we did, so he had some guards around the dock, but didn’t expect an attempt to seize the freighter. If the commander on that light cruiser had told him that major warship reinforcements had arrived for Glenlyon, the ground forces commander would’ve known the logic of capturing this ship had changed big-time. But he wasn’t told, so he didn’t shift his defenses accordingly.”
“Betrayed by their own side! Maybe they’ll want to get even,” he added jokingly.
“Maybe,” Mele said, then paused as a thought came to her. “Maybe.”
“You said something about new friends and a lot of destroyers?”
“Yes. Glenlyon has been offered a part in an alliance of, uh, let’s see, six star systems I think.”
“Six.” Batra smiled. “Good. I’d like to have the odds in our favor next time.”
“Me, too. Excuse me, though, I need to go meet with Colonel Busik and get the surrender terms nailed down.”
President Chisholm had the look of someone who couldn’t quite believe they’d won the lottery, found the love of their life, and backed up an important file just before their system crashed, all on the same day. “Glenlyon knew we could count on you, Major.”
“Thank you,” Mele said, thinking that it looked like she really would remain a major this time. “I need to talk to you about the surrender agreement with the enemy ground forces. I held preliminary talks with their commander, Colonel Busik.”
“What are they proposing?”
“They led with something they know they’re not going to get. They want full honors of war, which would mean they agree to leave and we let them go, along with all of their weapons and equipment.”
Chisholm laughed. “No, they’re not going to get that!”
Mele cleared her throat. “Madam President, maybe we should consider it.”
“What? Why would we agree to that?”
“Because they might agree to what we want. There are times,” Mele said, “when someone throws a grenade at you, and you have a chance to throw it back at them before it explodes. This could be something like that.”
The president eyed her, thoughts chasing behind her eyes. “Go on.”
“These guys were hired as a unit from Old Earth. Hired by the puppet government on Hesta. Many of them brought families with them. They got to Hesta and found out things weren’t quite as promised, and then they got sent to attack us, after being told a pack of lies about how weak and helpless we were. They were told this would be a cake walk, and it turned out to be a buzz saw. Then they got abandoned when their warships took off. They’re not happy with their employers. Not at all.”
“I find I lack sympathy for them,” Chisholm said.
“The point is,” Mele emphasized, “these guys are very unhappy with the puppet government running Hesta. And from my talks with them and with the crew of this ship, that puppet government is really unpopular on Hesta. It’s got control of vital facilities, and the threat of intervention by Scatha, Apulu, and Turan. Without those things, that government would be gone.”
President Chisholm nodded slowly. “What are you thinking?”
“I’m thinking that we use the people who attacked us as a grenade tossed back at the thrower. We let them go back to Hesta, but this time they’ll be working for us. They show up at Hesta in the freighter, announcing that they left a garrison on the facility that they captured, they take Hesta’s orbital facility by surprise and capture it, then they drop onto the planet and start breaking that puppet government.”
“You want us to hire them?” President Chisholm shook her head. “My government, and the people of Glenlyon, would never agree to pay the people who attacked us.”
“The payment would be granting them full honors of war,” Mele said. “It wouldn’t cost Glenlyon anything. It’d actually save us a lot of money because we wouldn’t have to worry about handling a bunch of prisoners for who knows how long.”
Chisholm stayed silent, thinking. “You think they’d agree to that? To attack their own former employers?”
“They got lied to, and their friends died as a result. They’re not happy, and legally those lies could be considered a breach of their hiring agreement. They want revenge on those who lied to them, and they want to get back to Hesta to protect their own families. And,” Mele added, “when the people of Hesta regain control of their star system, they’ll know it was thanks to the people of Glenlyon. We’ll have more friends out there who owe us big-time.”
This time Chisholm took even longer to reply. “You’re a very dangerous woman, Major Darcy.”
“Thank you.”
“Why would you agree to this? These enemy soldiers killed your people. Why would you want to let them go free?”
Mele sighed, feeling dark thoughts swirl inside her. “There are a couple of reasons. The enemy fought, well, honorably. They didn’t commit any atrocities. I personally would like to see the people who gave the orders to attack us suffer for what they did, rather than punishing the soldiers. There’s justice in using against them the weapons they sent against us, right? And last . . . the truth is, Madam President, I could stand up every enemy soldier in a line, and walk down that line shooting them one by one and watching them slowly die at my feet, and it wouldn’t bring back one single Marine that died in this fight. Far better I honor those who died by acting with honor myself, and by ensuring that their sacrifice leads to safety for this star system and the people in it. That’s what they fought for. That’s what I want to do.” She stopped speaking, embarrassed at stating her feelings so openly.
“I see.” Chisholm nodded several times. “Yes. What about the enemy warships, though? Won’t they pose a threat to that ship and the soldiers if we send them back to Hesta?”
“I’m told those enemy warships will never leave Glenlyon,” Mele said. “Our new friends and allies are going to see to that. They are allies, right?”
“Tentatively, allies,” Chisholm said. “Commodore Geary made some strong arguments in favor of accepting membership in the alliance. But a final decision hasn’t been made.”
“All right. As long as they help us destroy those enemy warships here. And if there are any other warships at Hesta, these soldiers we’ve been fighting have all the codes and passwords and everything else needed to get past defenses and get things done. The strings of the puppet government will be cut by the time they realize that their own weapon has turned on them.”
“Free Hesta. Strike back at those who attacked us. And use the attack itself to pay for the retaliation.” Chisholm nodded again. “That I could sell. I fully expect some members of the government to argue that we shouldn’t let those who attacked us go free, but if you’re arguing in favor of it, that objection won’t have much force. Can you get Colonel Menziwa to back the idea as well?”
“You want me to convince Colonel Menziwa?”
“Yes. You two speak the same language.”
Mele sighed again. “I guess it looks that way from where you sit. Okay. I’ll get Captain Batra and we’ll talk to her together.”
Captain Batra wanted to get a haircut, shave, and new uniform before speaking to Menziwa, but Mele propped him in an adjustable bunk in his torn battle outfit and stood beside him as she called the colonel. Her battle armor was damaged, her helmet off, her hair and face probably a nightmare, so Mele didn’t care what Batra looked like. Next to her, he probably looked ready for inspection.
Menziwa listened without commenting until Mele had finished outlining her idea. Then she focused on Batra. “Captain, are you aware of any atrocities committed by the enemy forces?”
“No, Colonel.”
“When you were a prisoner, did you experience or observe any maltreatment of yourself or other prisoners?”
“No, Colonel.”
“Did you and all other wounded prisoners of which you’re aware receive all necessary medical treatment?”
“Yes, Colonel.”
“Were you interrogated?”
Captain Batra nodded. “Yes, Colonel.”
“Was any torture or other unlawful methods employed?”
“No, Colonel. Standard interrogation techniques. I told them nothing of importance, and I do not believe any other prisoner told them anything significant, but they did not respond unlawfully.”
Menziwa sat back, thinking, her eyes going to Mele. “Major Darcy, your impression of Colonel Busik is that he can be trusted to honor any agreement made?”
“Yes, Colonel,” she said.
“I assume there is no objection to my speaking personally with Colonel Busik.”
“No objection at all, Colonel,” Mele said.
“What was your impression of Colonel Busik’s unit?”
“Professional. Well disciplined. Very good at what they did. We were lucky that external support arrived for us.”
Menziwa looked at Batra again. “Do you agree, Captain?”
“Yes,” Batra said. “I believe that Major Darcy’s plan to defend the facility was the best we could have employed, and the actions of all of our soldiers and Marines were the best that any men and women could have provided, but our opponents were very capable, had heavy fire support, and outnumbered us substantially.”
“I see.” Colonel Menziwa tapped her desk, frowning. “Major Darcy, set up a call with Colonel Busik for me. I’ll reserve any recommendation until after that call, but if what I’ve heard so far is borne out by my conversation with Busik, I expect to support the proposed course of action. Oh, one thing more, Major Darcy.”
“Yes, Colonel?” Mele asked, wondering if Menziwa was finally going to offer open praise for her.
“I trust that before any formal talks are held you and Captain Batra will correct your appearances to that expected at all times of officers. Menziwa, out.”
As the colonel’s image vanished, Mele laughed. She couldn’t help it. “I hate her,” she told Captain Batra. “Excuse me while I check on the situation in space instead of taking time to wash and style my hair.”
Lochan gazed at a display showing the lean, hungry shapes of the destroyers accompanying Asahi. “Accompanying” in space terms meaning about ten thousand kilometers distant. Caladbolg, Gae Bulg, and Shark. Without magnification the deadly vessels would have been invisible to human eyes against the infinite black and stars of space, both a reminder of how small the works of humanity were and how deadly those works could be.
“Hey.” Freya Morgan walked up beside him and winked. “Interested in a little private recreation?”
“Ummm . . . sure,” Lochan said. He followed her to the tiny stateroom she shared with one of Asahi’s officers, who was currently on watch. As soon as the hatch closed, Freya started checking something on her comm pad.
“There’s a listening device,” she reported, “but I’ve got it jammed for the moment.”
“You really ought to find another way of asking me to a private conference,” Lochan said.
Freya gave him an apologetic look. “Do I keep getting your hopes up? Or is it you’re afraid Brigit will hear of it?”
“I . . . what’s this about?”
“Something odd.” Freya looked about her. “A couple of hours ago there was a conference of ship captains. I just happened to be aware of it, though I couldn’t figure out a way to tap in before it ended, so I don’t know what was discussed. What I do know is the conference consisted of Captain Sori, Captain Hubbard, and Captain Tanya the Wicked.”
“That’s . . .” Lochan spread his hands. “They were talking strategy or something. Tactics. There wouldn’t be any need to include us in—wait. Did you say Captain Derian was part of that conference?”
“I did not,” Freya said. “Captain Derian wasn’t included.”
Lochan stared at her. “What would they have been talking about that they didn’t want Derian to know?”
“That’s a fine question, isn’t it? What is it our new friends and allies are hiding from us?”