He pulled out the scale on his display, looking for symbols of still-active Syndicate soldiers or snakes, but as he watched, the last areas of resistance ceased fighting. “Send scouts into the buildings across the street,” Drakon ordered Safir. “Find out if there are any soldiers in those, and then spread your units through them to ensure none of the former Syndicate soldiers try to pull out and lose themselves in the city.”
Colonel Malin had a rare smile on his face. “You did it, General. Our sensors aren’t picking up any signs of resistance.”
“Keep monitoring activity until we know all of the last Syndicate loyalist soldiers have been disarmed and rounded up,” Drakon ordered. “I need—I need to answer this call from the Midway.”
The contrast between the recent visions of chaotic ground fighting amid ruins and the image of the neat, well-ordered bridge of the battleship was a jarring one. “What have you got, Kapitan?”
“General Drakon.” Kapitan Mercia waved to her own display. “There are two shuttles which have just lifted from a parking apron next to the location you asked us to watch. Really nice stealth jobs, but the amount of dust thrown up by all the fighting is letting us track them anyway. They are accelerating inland.”
The Syndicate CEO in charge of the ground forces division which had just ceased to exist had, as expected, decided that survival was the better part of valor. “Two shuttles,” Drakon said to Malin. “They must have left a lot of staff behind.”
“It is a Syndicate tradition in cases like this to abandon to their fates the workers and lower-ranking executives,” Malin commented.
“Kapitan Mercia,” Drakon said, “can you take out those two shuttles?”
“Anytime you want,” she replied. “If you want to minimize the chance of damage to whatever is below them, I can wait until they clear the city and nail them while they are over open country.”
“Will you be able to track them that far?”
“There’s enough dust and smoke extending out into open country for us to keep a solid track on them for about thirty kilometers from the city proper,” Mercia said.
“Then nail them when they clear the city,” Drakon said. “Are you seeing anything else up there that I should know about?”
“Personnel are fleeing from minor Syndicate military sites everywhere that we can see. We’ve stopped bombarding since I assume you will want a chance to get the abandoned equipment intact. We’ve identified very large numbers of what appear to be citizens in encampments outside the city you are in.”
“That explains why we didn’t see any civilians while we were fighting,” Drakon said. “I’m surprised. I didn’t expect Haris and his snakes to care how many civilians died.”
“I doubt the citizens were moved out of concern for their welfare,” Mercia said. “Very likely there were other reasons.” She studied something intently. “Those two shuttles will be over open country in thirty seconds. Hang on.”
Thirty seconds could feel like a long time when you were waiting through each one.
Mercia signaled a command. Hell-lance particle beams shot down from the battleship, spearing the two fleeing shuttles. “Both birds are dead. One down. Both down. Do you want the coordinates of the wreckage?”
“Later, if you please,” Drakon said, thinking that if things had gone differently, he might have been the one in a shuttle trying to escape, the Syndicate battleship swatting him from the sky with cold efficiency.
No. He would have died, but not that way, not running. Hopefully, like Conner Gaiene, on his feet, fighting to the end.
“Colonel Kai,” Drakon said, “send a company through the city to these coordinates. You should find the bulk of the Syndicate divisional staff there. Their CEO ran out on them and died. There may still be snakes among them. Round them up and see how much equipment, codes, and other useful things they will turn over to us intact.”
“General,” the comm specialist said, “Executive Gozen wishes to speak with you.”
“Put her on.”
Gozen’s face appeared before Drakon. The executive looked even more weary than before, displaying no evidence of joy in the day’s events. “It’s over, right, General?”
“Unless the Syndicate has more hidden units on this planet,” Drakon said.
“Nothing significant that I know of. They pulled in everything to hit you.” She smiled wryly. “Didn’t work.”
“No, it didn’t. Are you all right, Executive Gozen?”
“I’ll survive.” She gave him an intent look. “Are my workers going to be all right, General? No labor camps?”
“There are no labor camps at Midway. They were abolished, and they won’t be coming back.”
“That’s hard to believe, but you don’t have any reason to lie to me about it anymore. What will happen to them?”
“That’s up to them,” Drakon said. “Ulindi is going to need ground forces. I need replacements for the losses we sustained here. Or they can try to go home. I won’t stop them.”
Gozen’s brief smile was more like a grimace. “Home. That would be a ticket straight to a Syndicate labor camp for me. Are you going to disarm us?”
“Do I need to?”
“No, sir.”
“Then hang on to your weapons for now but stay within your positions. We are disarming the prisoners we took when we captured the portion of your lines the Syndicate still controlled, but we’ll turn those soldiers over to you if you want.”
“That would be a really nice gesture, General. I’ll let my soldiers know they’re going to have some real options for the first time in their lives. That’s going to feel strange.”
“You start to get used to it after a while,” Drakon said. “Just to be all formal and everything, are you submitting yourself and the soldiers under your command to my authority?”
Gozen took a deep breath, then nodded. “Yes, sir.”
“We’re still sorting out things inside the base. I want you to get in touch with Colonel Malin in about half an hour. Here’s his comm ID. Let him know what sort of support you need. Shelter, rations, that sort of thing. If you can tell us where other nearby stockpiles of such materiel can be found, it will help. How are you fixed for medical?”
“We can use any medical help you can provide, General,” Gozen said.
“We’ll get that moving.”
“Thank you.” Gozen’s control finally cracked a little, but she straightened and nodded to him again. “It’s been a long day, and I’ve got a lot yet to do.”
“No rush. We’re not going anywhere until our warships round up any of the freighters that brought us here that didn’t get destroyed.”
Gozen looked surprised. “You’re not going to take the troop transports?”
He tried not to look surprised in turn. “What troop transports? The ones that brought you here? Those are gone.”
“No. They’re not. I told you we got dropped here just a short time before you showed up. Troop transports aren’t the slugs that freighters are, but they weren’t fast enough to clear the star system before we were told you might show up. If you had seen them, it would have ruined the trap. Plus the CEO wanted them close. They were told to park themselves with the star between them and any of your ships until they got a recall.”
“The star?” Drakon said.
“Yeah. You know, that big, glowing thing up there? The star.”
“Troop transports are still there?” Something else that Gozen had said registered on him. “Why did the CEO want them close?”
“From what I heard,” Gozen said, “after we rolled up you guys on the ground, and the Syndicate flotilla wiped out your mobile forces, the plan was to load us up again fast and head for the star system that you came from. Us in the transports and the Syndicate flotilla as escorts. We were to hit whatever guys you’d left back there before they could even hear about what had happened to you and put an end to your revolt.” She concentrated. “I think… I remember hearing they were to stay within ten to fifteen light-minutes from us.”