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All the Alliance warships had pivoted to use their main propulsion units to slow down so they wouldn’t get too far from the critically important Alliance auxiliaries, assuming their positions in the formation that Geary had mentally labeled the Big Ugly Ball. With that situation well in hand, the Syndic pursuit force still not having arrived, and the nearest operational Syndic combatants almost a light-hour distant and hauling ass away from the Alliance fleet, Geary gave in to temptation again and pulled up a view from one of the Marine officers retaking the Audacious.

The shuttles had mated not only with the remains of Audacious’s external air locks and shuttle dock but also with a few spots where big holes had been blown in the battleship’s armor. Marine detachments had swarmed into the silent ship, ready for anything. Now, Geary’s view from the combat armor of the Marine he’d chosen showed the battleship’s interior rendered strange by tremendous amounts of internal damage and a lack of regular lighting. The Marine lieutenant and his squad reached an internal air lock that had been repaired just enough to function and passed through into areas where temporary patches had been slapped on holes in bulkheads to seal in atmosphere.

The Alliance Marines moved swiftly, their battle-armor sensors scanning for booby traps, their weapons seeking targets as they came around corners and pulled themselves down passageways cluttered with wreckage. No enemies revealed themselves, and no traps materialized, which instead of being reassuring just made everyone more nervous. Another hatch loomed, this one locked. The Marines paused, most on guard, weapons ready, while one of their number applied a mini charge and blew the lock apart. “No stun grenades!” someone barked over the Marine command circuit.

“But, Sarge, there might be—”

“There might be Alliance prisoners of war on the other side of that hatch, and we don’t know how bad off our own people on this hulk might be. Even a stun charge might kill ’em. Aimed shots only, and nobody fire unless you have positive ID on enemy targets. I’ll personally shoot any bitch or son of a bitch who puts a round into an Alliance prisoner of war. Understand?” A chorus of assents sounded.

One Marine grabbed the hatch and tugged it open as his comrades’ weapons leveled to aim into the large compartment beyond.

For a moment Geary feared that the compartment was stuffed full of dead Alliance personnel, but then he saw resigned, rebellious, and frightened expressions on the faces turning to the hatch, each emotion changing to disbelief as the former prisoners recognized Alliance Marine combat armor. “The air in there sucks,” the Marine lieutenant reported to his superior. "CO2 is way too high.”

“Get them out as fast as you can,” the order came back. “Third Platoon is rigging an evac tube from the last working air lock to the shuttles. Get them moving!”

The uniforms on the prisoners showed insignia from a mix of ships. In the front ranks Geary saw patches from Indefatigable, Audacious herself, the heavy cruiser Bassinet, and the destroyer Talwar. Some of the newly liberated Alliance personnel were grinning as the Marines hauled them out of the fetid compartment, some just seemed stunned as the Marines shoved them in the direction of the air lock. “First Squad! Line the passageways to direct these guys and keep them moving!”

A chief petty officer with a patch from Defiant and one arm in an improvised sling paused as he came out of the compartment. “First time I was ever happy to see a Marine,” he gasped to one. “I could kiss you.”

“I don’t swing that way, Chief,” the Marine replied. “Try my friend over there. But keep moving.”

Another call on the Marine command circuit. “They found another compartment down this way, Lieutenant! Looks like it’s full of space squids, too.”

“Get ’em out here and on the way to the evac tube! Go, go, go!”

Geary broke the connection, wishing he could keep watching but knowing he had other responsibilities. Seeing Desjani watching him, he gave a nod. “The Marines are getting our people off of Audacious. It looks like a lot were on there.”

“Good.” Desjani nodded as well, toward the display before her. “Our auxiliaries are closing on the Syndic repair ships right now.”

The four Alliance auxiliaries had overhauled four big Syndic repair ships, and now were gliding into position directly over the Syndic vessels, conveyor tubes extending outward and down from their undersides as if they were gigantic creatures intent on mating with even more enormous partners. Which, in a way, they were. It took a little playing with his menus, but Geary managed to bring up a diagram showing the activity inside the Syndic ships. Symbols representing Alliance engineers were blowing out bulkhead after bulkhead until clear paths existed into the raw-materials bunkers on the Syndic auxiliaries, then as each path was opened, more Alliance conveyor tubes extended down into the Syndic ships and began draining out their materials.

“Oddly disquieting imagery, isn’t it?” Rione murmured from over his shoulder. She’d gotten up and come to stand just behind him. “Or is that just a woman’s perspective?”

Geary shook his head. “Not once the conveyor tubes started sucking stuff out of those Syndic ships. I guess we’re not used to seeing parasites on that scale.”

“Do they have what we need?”

“Some of it.” Geary scowled at the display. Multiple overlapping windows showed exhaustive detail on fleet requirements and what had been discovered inside the Syndic repair ships. The mass of small type and unfamiliar terms made it impossible for him to figure out what was happening. “Why can’t this just tell me how much we need of each material and how much we’re getting? Captain Desjani, could you ask your engineering watch-stander to pop me up a display showing in simple terms where we stand on refilling our auxiliaries’ bunkers?”

Desjani nodded and passed on the order, then smiled with satisfaction. “We’ve received two heavy resupply shuttles from Titan, sir. Dauntless will be back up to sixty-five percent fuel-cell reserves when the new ones are installed. We’ve also received sixty more canisters of grapeshot and seven new specters as well as some major spare parts we needed but weren’t able to fabricate ourselves.”

“Excellent. Is that all Titan is sending Dauntless?”

“Time permitting, we’ll get a third shuttle, sir.”

Even better. Geary felt himself smiling. “Now if we can only get food.”

The engineering watch-stander had come up and now cleared his throat to attract attention. “Excuse me, sir. If I may …” His fingers tapped controls rapidly, then Geary saw a window appear with bar graphs showing total capacity of the bunkers on his auxiliaries, total materials found on the Syndic auxiliaries, and how much had been transferred. “Thanks. What’s this column?”

“Food, sir,” the engineer replied in that self-satisfied way of someone who’d already answered a question his superior hadn’t yet asked him. “The Syndic ships we’ve boarded have all had food stocks on them. From what I’ve overheard, the stocks on the civilian ships are actually really decent food. It’s not nearly enough, but we are acquiring more food here as well.”

“Are samples being screened for contamination?” Rione demanded.

The engineer looked startled. “Yes, Madam Co-President. I’m sure they are, just like the raw materials we’re pulling out of the bunkers. I’ll double-check, though.”