“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.”