“Commitment nearspace control, noted. Stand by.” Kidav nodded confirmation to Lenski that the approach plan had been received, had been passed by Mother as sensible, and was not going to run them headlong into the station or some other large, hard object in orbit around Commitment. “Approach plan received. Eridani with Van Maanen and Groombridge in company commencing final approach to Planetary Transfer Station Zero Three. Eridani, out.”
Kidav broke the link without waiting for the Hammer operator to acknowledge. Lenski leaned across. “Tanvi, I know this is the first time you’ve seen them up close, but don’t let it get to you.”
“Sorry, skipper.”
Lenski turned to Michael. “And remember, young man. Stay out of sight. We’ve got people to bring home.”
“Sir.”
Michael stared moodily at the holovid as Eridani circled endlessly around Commitment, her two companions trailing along behind her like tame dogs.
Below Eridani, the planet Commitment was a dramatic sight as the terminator raced across the planet’s chaotic mix of whites, blues, greens, and browns. It had been three days since they had dropped into Hammer space, and after a brief stay alongside the planetary transfer station-the ships had been treated as though they carried the Black Death-the Hammers had ordered them to unberth and move into low orbit. So they had, no doubt waiting for some mindless Hammer bureaucrat to decide that the prisoner transfer could go ahead.
“Looks pretty.”
Michael swung around. It was Bienefelt. “Oh, hi, Matti. Yes, it is pretty, but so is a well-chiseled tombstone. It’s the corruption underneath you’ve got to focus on.” His voice was bitter. He’d seen the list of prisoners to be repatriated together with what the Hammers were pleased to call the nonreturnees list. Nonreturnees! For a very long time Michael had stared at the list, anger never far from the surface.
Aaron Stone. Poor bastard. Even though he had made it out of Camp I-2355 and across Koenig’s High Pass to the safety of the Forest of Gwyr, he had not survived; the injuries he had sustained had been way beyond the capabilities of Fellsworth’s medics to fix. On top of the stick lost crossing Koenig’s, sixteen more had died along the way. Most from accidents, though four had died when their patrol had been caught in the open by two Hammer assault landers.
Not that Michael cared much how they had died. Dead was dead.
What he did know was that they all had died because of the Hammer, and one day there would be a reckoning. Fellsworth had made it. So had Chief Ichiro and the man-mountain himself, Marine Murphy. Leading Spacer Petrovic, too. Even the mutineers had made it; Michael would have traded them for Aaron Stone in a heartbeat. Apart from Fellsworth, they all would be taken home in the Groombridge, and so he would have to wait until Terranova to see how they had fared. There had been some good news, but not enough. Not nearly enough.
“Command, Mother. Incoming vidcomm, channel 37.”
“Matti, take this, would you,” Michael called. “I’m not supposed to be here.”
“Sure.”
The impassive face of the latest in a long line of black-uniformed Hammers to talk to the Eridani appeared on the holovid. “Eridani, Commitment nearspace control.”
“Eridani.”
“Up-shuttle with returnees per manifests will be with you in thirty minutes. Contact up-shuttle call sign Golf Charlie 6 on vidcomm channel 75, over.”
“Eridani, roger. Up-shuttle call sign Golf Charlie six on vidcomm channel seventy-five. Out.”
Bienefelt looked across at Michael. He was silent for a moment. “Matti, tell the skipper while I comm our friends to let them know.”
With the van Maanen and Groombridge duly informed, Michael waited while Bienefelt briefed Lenski before activating the main broadcast. “All stations, this is command. Stand by to receive shuttle port side in three zero minutes. Ishaqs returning.”
Michael commed Kidav.
Kidav’s cheerful face popped up in his neuronics. “Hi, Michael. What can I do for you?”
“You heard the broadcast?”
Kidav looked pleased. “Sure did. Finally!”
“Yes, finally. Favor to ask.”
“Shoot.”
“Can you take over the watch from me? I would like to be at the dock when the Ishaqs get here.”
Kidav winced. “Oh, shit, Michael. Of course. Sorry, I didn’t think.”
“That’s all right. When you’re ready.”
“On my way.”
In the end the up-shuttle had taken more like an hour, but finally it had docked. Michael stayed back, standing apart from the rest of the Eridani’s crew. Nobody knew quite what to expect. All they had been given was a list of names.
At last, the transfer air lock swung open with a tiny hiss of air as the two ships equalized. Then two DocSec troopers, a sergeant and a corporal, armed with stun guns and stiffly arrogant in their trademark black jumpsuits appeared. Michael had to hold himself back as red rage ripped into him. He was a hairbreadth away from diving across the brilliantly lit air lock to tear their throats out. By some miracle, he held himself back.
After a cursory look around, the DocSec troopers seemed satisfied. Standing back, they looked on impassively as first one, then another, and then a procession of emaciated spacers half walked, half staggered into view. Their desperation to be clear of their Hammer captors was plain to see, the tattered remnants of shipsuits the only thing marking them out as Feds.
For a moment, the Eridanis hung back, stunned by the appalling sight of Ishaq’s crew. Then something snapped, and ignoring the DocSec troopers’ protests, they rushed forward as one to help the struggling spacers on board, Michael in there with the rest of them. Then he saw her, her smile the only hint that this tattered, limping human being, her grimy face pulled tight across high cheekbones by hunger, was Lieutenant Commander Fellsworth. He snapped to attention and saluted.
Fellsworth shook her head. “For fuck’s sake, cut it out, Michael. Give me a hand before I fall over.”
Holding her up, he got Fellsworth on board Eridani only seconds before she collapsed; a gurney was slid into place hurriedly to catch her. Michael knelt down beside her, his face close to hers.
“I won’t ask how it was, sir,” Michael whispered, taking her hand in his.
“No, don’t. I expect you to buy the vid. It’s going to fund my retirement.” She smiled, but her eyes did not. “Michael! I must tell you. You did well to get word out. Very well. We would all have died otherwise. We all owe you, and Corporal Yazdi, of course. Is she here?”
Michael shook his head, the pain on his face obvious. “No, sir. She didn’t make it.”
“Shit.” Fellsworth’s eyes closed for a second. “Those Hammer pricks didn’t tell me that.” She lifted her head to look right at Michael, her hand squeezing his hard, her grip surprisingly strong and painfully tight. “You know where she is?”
Michael nodded. “Graves registration found her. She’s coming back with us.”
Fellsworth’s voice was tight with a fierce intensity. “Good. Well, let me tell you something. They’ll pay for this. They’ll damn well pay.”
“They will. They sure as hell will.”
Fellsworth held his hand tight for a moment before her eyes rolled up and her head fell back onto the gurney, her arm dropping away. Michael carefully put it back by her side and, unable to speak, waved the medics to take her away.
Eventually, every living Ishaq was accounted for, but Eridani had one more Ishaq to take home. With a heavy heart, Michael and every one of the Eridani’s crew not on duty fell in on either side of the air lock, unmoving.