Rogero’s mind was filled with images of the revolt at Midway, Syndicate unit against Syndicate unit. “Are you talking fighting? Combat between Alliance forces?”
“No!” Bradamont seemed shocked at the suggestion. “I don’t see any of the forces involved shooting at each other. Not over this. Not over anything. But that means none of them will shoot to protect these freighters. The fleet units are trying to delay the commandos without engaging them, and doing it in a way they can claim was accidental. That is the best we can hope for.”
“The fixed defenses,” Garadun said harshly. “The Alliance must have a lot in this star system. Whose orders are they responding to?”
“Ground forces or aerospace,” Bradamont answered. “But even these freighters can dodge shots fired from at least several light-minutes away. We’d be in trouble if we were heading for a site being defended, but we can avoid those.”
“What about a barrage?”
Bradamont shrugged irritably. “That might be challenging. All we can do is try to dodge.”
“We?” Ito asked.
“I’m aboard this ship, too.”
Garadun gave Bradamont an appraising look. “Every one of these freighters has talented personnel on board, people who can make mobile forces dance to their tune. If we have to, we’ll show the Alliance how it’s done.”
“When will we know we’re clear of the commandos?” Rogero asked.
“When they don’t get here,” Bradamont answered. “If we started accelerating soon enough and can prolong their approach long enough, they’ll have to turn back because of fuel constraints. They can’t sustain a long tail chase. I’d guess that if they haven’t caught up with us in an hour, we can breathe easier.”
Rogero turned to Foster. “Lieutenant. All soldiers are to go to full-combat footing. Armor sealed and weapons powered. Threat is Alliance commandos boarding from stealth shuttles. As soon as the last passenger shuttle breaks free, all hatches on the freighters are to be sealed and guarded.”
“The commandos are likely to be in stealth armor, too,” Bradamont said. “And they can get in by other means than using hatches.”
He looked at her, startled by the sudden catch in her voice, and saw that Bradamont looked as if she were physically ill.
She met his eyes. “They’re Alliance,” she said in a low voice.
Of course. Her own people. Bradamont was helping him prepare to fight those she had fought alongside. If the commandos boarded, some of them would die, and many if not all of Rogero’s soldiers would die.
And, quite possibly, Rogero, too.
“You should go to your quarters,” he told Bradamont. “It would be safer.”
“I will not hide down there,” she said. “I will be here if they enter this command deck.”
He had to accept that because he knew she would not bend on it.
Ito gave him a speculative look, though, and glanced at Bradamont.
“The last five Alliance shuttles are mating for the transfer now,” Lieutenant Foster said. “Their pilots are complaining about our acceleration.”
“Just tell them to get our people off those shuttles,” Rogero said. “As soon as the last is clear, they can head home.”
“The shuttles are off-loading very quickly,” Lieutenant Foster commented.
“Good old-fashioned fear-of-death motivation. It’s the Syndicate way.”
Everybody on the command deck but Bradamont laughed when Rogero repeated a joke that was old in the Syndicate Worlds, though the laughter held some nervousness as eyes kept straying to the display, as if the Alliance stealth shuttles would miraculously become visible on it.
“An hour?” Garadun asked Bradamont as he studied the freighter’s acceleration rate with a disgusted look.
“That’s just an estimate. I can’t be certain.”
“I hate being stalked by invisible enemies.” His eyes grew shadowed by dark memories. “Like the enigmas. How did Black Jack beat them?”
“We found out they’d been messing with your sensors,” Bradamont said. “Ours, too. Worms in the systems controlled what we saw whenever the enigmas wanted to be invisible.”
“What kind of worms couldn’t be found by our security scans?” Ito demanded.
“Quantum-coded worms,” Bradamont replied. “Don’t ask me how. I don’t think anyone human has figured out how to do it, yet. But we figured out how to cancel them out.”
“I suppose Black Jack figured that out, too?” Garadun said, his tone bitter.
“No. Captain Cresida. One of the battle cruiser commanders.” Bradamont closed her eyes for a moment. “She died in the battle with your flotilla when her ship was destroyed.”
Nobody said anything because there wasn’t anything that could be said. Instead, they all watched the displays where the vectors of the freighters grew longer with agonizing slowness as the clumsy ships accelerated at the snail’s pace that was the best they could manage.
After several minutes, Ito broke the silence. “Why are these commandos chasing us? Why do they want to recapture us? The Alliance guards never made any secret of the fact that they wanted to be rid of us.”
“Some of them want you back because you might be leaving under circumstances they don’t like,” Rogero suggested. “It is also likely that they want me, specifically.”
“Why?”
“Because,” Rogero replied with the ease of someone taught to lie well by the demands of the Syndicate system, “I went to Ambaru station and am known as the one in charge. I then got away from them thanks to their Admiral Timbale. So they want me. They may also have records related to the months I spent as part of the staff of a Syndicate labor camp. That might make me a criminal in their eyes.”
Garadun scowled in frustration. “No weapons to defend ourselves, lousy acceleration and maneuverability, and the best the Alliance has got coming for us. I’ve fought under better circumstances.”
“Sir?” Lieutenant Foster asked. “Shouldn’t we get some armor up here for us?”
Rogero shook his head. “Not until we’ve gotten those last shuttles off-loaded. Then you go join your unit. I’ll stay here.”
“But—”
“They want me, Lieutenant. There’s no sense in everyone else’s dying when I can—”
“Colonel Rogero,” Bradamont interrupted, “they want you, but they’ll hold the entire ship. You and everyone and everything on it. They won’t just take you and let everyone else go on their way.”
“I can take the escape craft—”
“If you eject, they’ll assume you’re trying to divert them from this ship for a reason. They’ll leave you drifting in the escape pod to pick up at their leisure and keep coming for this ship and any other of the freighters they can catch.” Bradamont took a quick breath. “I’m not just trying to save your butt, Colonel. If the commandos catch us, they will hold all of us indefinitely. The entire mission will fail. That’s the best case if they catch us. In my estimation, there is a strong chance they will come in shooting because someone in their chain of command has decided that the whole independent-star-system bit is a trick, and everyone aboard these freighters are actually Syndics on some covert mission that violates the peace agreement. Stop thinking about ways to sacrifice yourself. None of them would do any good.”
“What about you?” Ito asked Bradamont. “What happens to you if these freighters are taken?”
She made an angry, helpless gesture. “I have orders from Admiral Geary that justify my being here. I seriously doubt that would do me much good once I’m in the hands of the ground forces or aerospace forces under these circumstances.” Bradamont looked at Rogero, her glance exchanging understanding of the matter they could not openly refer to, her and Rogero’s involvement with both Syndicate snakes and Alliance intelligence.