Rione gestured to the communications watch. “Please set up a link to the Syndic command net. When the link is ready, I’ll send them a preliminary message.” She then settled back herself to await the establishment of the link to the Syndic authorities in this star system.
And waited.
Desjani finally intervened. She might not personally like Rione, but failing to provide proper support to a member of the Alliance government would reflect badly on her ship. “What’s the difficulty? Why haven’t you established a link for the co-president’s transmission?”
“Captain, the Syndic net we’ve observed since entering this star system doesn’t seem to be working right.” The communications watch-stander seemed baffled. “It’s still there, but we’re seeing very strange activity.”
“Strange activity?” Desjani pressed.
“Yes, Captain, it’s ongoing, so it’s hard to assess. It’s almost as if . . .” The watch-stander’s apparent bafflement increased. “We just received a transmission addressed to us. Someone calling themselves the Heradao governing council has sent us a message from the third planet. They insist on speaking with Captain Geary.”
Geary covered his eyes with one hand, unwilling to bandy words with Syndic CEOs right now. “Tell them that Captain Geary isn’t particularly interested in talking at the moment.” The third planet was a little over two and a half light-hours away at the moment. Conversations in which an exchange of information required five hours had never been his favorite pastime.
“But . . . sir, they say they’ve established a new government here, and they want to negotiate the status of the star system with you.”
His hand came down and Geary swiveled to stare at the watch-stander, but Rione spoke before he could. “These people didn’t identify themselves as the Syndic commanders in the star system?” she asked.
“No, Madam Co-President. The Heradao governing council. That’s how the message ID shows up.”
“Are there still transmissions coming from the Syndic authorities in Heradao?”
“Uh . . . yes, ma’am.” The watch-stander shook his head in puzzlement. “The system just identified another new transmission ID, this time from the Free Planet of Heradao Four, whoever that is. Captain Desjani, the Syndic command and control net in this star system seems to be
shredding
. I’ve never seen anything like this. It’s as if—”
Rione had moved to stand by the watch, peering at the readouts and patterns on the communications display. “As if people are grabbing whichever pieces of it they can get their hands on and trying to break those pieces out from the command net.” She turned to look at Geary. “I’ve seen something like this. This star system is dissolving into civil war.”
“Where could you have seen something like that?” Desjani demanded, shocked into speaking directly to Rione.
“At Geradin. In Alliance space,” Rione added calmly. “I wasn’t there, but the records were provided to the Alliance Senate. I studied them.”
“Geradin?” Geary questioned. “Where’s that?”
“A backwater system, low population and fairly isolated, especially since the hypernet was established, which nonetheless kept sending its best to the Alliance military.” Rione made a gesture of distaste. “Which left the field open for the far-from-best to foment trouble. An attempted silent coup turned into open fighting and the subsequent collapse of central authority.” She faced Desjani. “And, no, you never heard about it. Security. It wouldn’t do to let the people of the Alliance know what could happen even in a place like Geradin.”
“Collapsing authority,” Geary muttered, eyeing his own display. “Are we seeing signs of open fighting among the Syndics?” No one answered, so Geary punched a control. “Lieutenant Iger. We have indications that central authority in this star system is collapsing or being challenged. I need an assessment and reports on what’s happening on each planet as soon as possible.”
“Yes, sir! We’re working on it.”
Geary watched the information available to him, gratified to see more of the Alliance escape pods being picked up. Around the Alliance escape pods, much larger swarms of Syndic pods headed for the nearest refuge. He wondered how the survivors of the Syndic flotilla would align themselves within the star system. For a central authority that might be disintegrating? With any of at least two rebel factions? Or fort up on bases and try to ride out the rebellion until Syndic enforcers arrived in warships to bombard the rebels into submission?
“There aren’t many Syndic warships left,” Geary said to himself.
Desjani frowned, then nodded as she grasped his meaning. “Not much left to wield the whip. We’ve gradually turned the Syndic whip hand into fragments of broken warships stretching all the way back to the Syndic home star system.”
“Yeah. And we apparently aren’t the only ones to realize that.” Geary slapped his controls again. “Lieutenant Iger! Don’t you have anything yet?”
A window popped up with the intelligence officer’s face within it. Iger’s expression revealed perplexity. “Sir, the situation is chaotic.”
Geary waited for a moment. “Thank you, Lieutenant. I never could have figured that out without intelligence support.”
Iger’s face flushed in embarrassment. “I’m sorry, sir. We can’t give you a clear picture yet because there isn’t one. Everything seems to have fallen apart here, like a garment in which every seam fails at once. There are indications that the fourth planet may have gained population in recent decades because dissidents unhappy with the government were moving there. We have no idea who’s got real power or how much. No one may know that, including the various parties fighting for control of parts of this star system.”
“There is fighting going on?”
“Yes, sir. We’ve identified explosions, vehicle movements, signal traffic, and other indications of ongoing fighting on the third and fourth planets. We can’t tell yet if the fighting is intensifying. Since everything elsewhere is under cover, it’s much harder to tell if there’s any fighting going on inside buried cities or orbital installations.” Iger paused and looked to one side, nodded to someone, then faced Geary again. “We’ve just detected a substantial blowout affecting one of the Syndic orbiting facilities near the third world, which indicates that they’re fighting up there, too.”
Desjani had been listening and now shrugged. “Not our problem, sir. We aren’t an occupation task force with several hundred thousand ground troops along for the ride.”
“I guess not,” Geary agreed, then saw Iger shaking his head nervously. “Yes, Lieutenant?”
“The prisoner of war camp, sir, the one on the third world.”
He’d actually forgotten that for a moment as the collapse of Syndic central authority grabbed attention. “It is our problem.”
Iger was clearly reading updates even as he reported them to Geary. “There are indications of fighting outside the POW camp, but no signs of violence within the camp. Our best estimate is that the guards have forted up to protect themselves.”
“Is anyone attacking the camp, Lieutenant?”
“Not that we can tell, sir. But, well, it’s early.”
“What about orbital nuclear bombardment capability?” Rione asked. “We know the Syndics had that in other systems to help keep their people in line.”
“We can’t tell if they’ve got those here, Madam Co-President,” Iger replied. “None have been employed.”
“They may not have them, then.”
“Yes, ma’am, or they may lack a decent target, or they may have temporarily lost control of the nukes due to the command and control net falling apart, or they may be waiting for the various rebel factions to inflict as much harm on each other as possible before the Syndic authorities step in with their big hammer.”
Geary drummed his fingers on the armrest of his seat, thinking. “I assume this is all going to take a while to shake out, and we don’t have time to waste. Lieutenant Iger, I need special emphasis on finding out who controls the area of the third planet near the POW camp, and I need the best assessments you can come up with on the ground threat around there as well as any orbital and ground-based defenses this fleet would need to worry about or take out.”
“Yes, sir.” Iger saluted quickly, and his image vanished.
Geary tapped another control, and the image of Colonel Carabali appeared. “Colonel, are you familiar with the developing situation in this star system and in particular on the third planet?”
Carabali nodded. “Going to hell in a handbasket at hypervelocity, from what I’ve heard, sir.”
“Right. But we need to get the Alliance prisoners of war out of the camp on that planet. We’re going to try to find somebody to negotiate their release to us, but it’s very likely that your Marines will have a tough job to do.”
“That’s why the fleet has Marines, sir, to handle the tough jobs.” Carabali saluted. “I’ll work up a plan, assuming hostiles outside the camp and resistance from the guards inside the camp.”
“Thank you. The fleet will clear the way even if we have to crater the entire part of the planet around that camp.”
Desjani sighed. “Ground actions. Ugh. I really prefer fleet battles.”
“So do I, but we’re stuck with this ground action.” He frowned at the display. “Let’s get the fleet broken up. Leave enough around here to defend the ships under repair and get the rest headed toward the third planet. Madam Co-President, as soon as intelligence identifies someone to talk to you around that POW camp, I’d appreciate it if you began negotiations. Make sure they know that trying to blackmail us by threatening the welfare of the prisoners would be a very bad idea.”
“I’ll do my best,” Rione replied. “Assuming we find somebody who is actually in charge around there. What if I can’t?”
“Then Colonel Carabali’s Marines are going to come knocking on the door of that camp, and I wouldn’t want to be somebody standing in their way when they do.”
ABOUT twenty-four hours later, as Geary was reviewing the latest status reports from the fleet, Rione came to his stateroom. “We managed to get into direct contact with the POW camp on the third planet. The guards are scared of us and scared of the rebels outside their camp,” Rione reported. “They see the Alliance POWs as their only power-up, and they want to ensure they get all they can from that. They’re also scared of the Syndic authorities.”
“Even with things falling apart and the Syndic fleet almost wiped out?” Geary asked.
“Since people at their level don’t know the Syndic fleet has suffered so many losses, that’s not a factor for them. Captain Geary, for them the equation is simple. If they resist us, they may die. If they don’t resist us and the Syndics reestablish control of this star system, they
and
their families may die.”
“So they’re going to fight.”
“That’s what they say.”
He glared at the display over his table. “Do you think there’s anything we can do to change their minds? Threats? Promises?”
“I’ve tried both.” Rione shook her head, looking weary. “Usually I spend a lot of time trying to see beneath whatever Syndics are saying to guess what they really mean or what traps might be hidden in their words. The only good thing about this situation is that I feel confident the guards aren’t playing us. They mean what they say.”
“But how hard will they actually fight?” Geary wondered. “A token resistance or a scorched-earth battle to the death or something in between?”
Rione furrowed her brow in thought. “My own instincts say that any resistance will be more than token. The guards are very worried about how their actions will be viewed by Syndic authorities. But even though they’re putting up a good front, I don’t think they’re eager to die.”
“Something in the middle, then. Thanks. Colonel Carabali is going to brief me on the Marine assault plan in about an hour. I’d appreciate it if you let her know your assessment before then so she can factor it into her plan.”
“Sorry it couldn’t be more pleasant.” She gestured to the display. “Any good news?”
“Some. Commander Lommand called from
Titan
to say that he’s confident they’ll be able to get
Incredible
repaired enough to accompany the fleet. On the other hand, engineers inspecting
Intagliata
found a lot more structural damage had been suffered than we realized, so we’re going to have to scuttle that light cruiser, too.”
“And the fuel situation remains critical?”
“Yup. After we distribute every fuel cell the auxiliaries have and every one we could salvage off wrecked ships, the fleet will average about thirty-seven percent reserves. We’ll burn some of that slowing to orbit the third planet and accelerating away after we get the prisoners, so we’ll probably be down to the low thirties by the time we leave Heradao. Fortunately, fuel-cell use in Padronis should be minimal.”
“Can we get back with that level of fuel cells?” Rione asked quietly.
Geary shrugged. “In terms of distance, yes, easily. We shouldn’t have to fight any more battles between here and Varandal.”
“And if we do have to fight more battles?”
“Then it’s going to get ugly.”
She gazed at the display. “I have an obligation once more to point out your options in such a case.”
“I know.” He tried not to get angry. “We can load up some of the ships and abandon others. I won’t do that. We need every ship. The Alliance needs every ship and every sailor.”
“The Alliance needs
this
ship, Captain Geary. It needs the Syndic hypernet key aboard
Dauntless
.”
“I never forget that, Madam Co-President. You know, we could save fuel cells by not going after the Alliance prisoners on the third planet.”
She gave him a long, hard look. “I suppose I deserved that. You know that even I wouldn’t suggest abandoning those people. All right, Captain Geary, use your best judgment, and let’s pray the living stars continue to look after us. I will contact the Marine colonel about my impressions of the Syndic guard force at the POW camp and let her know that I am at her service if she wishes me to attempt any other conversations with the Syndic guards.”
“Thank you, Madam Co-President.”
AN hour later, the virtual presence of Colonel Carabali stood in his stateroom, pointing to two images of the POW camp on the third planet, each bearing symbols displaying different plans for liberating the prisoners. Seen from overhead, the Syndic installation was an almost perfect octagon, each corner of its eight sides anchored on a substantial guard tower, with smaller guard posts spaced between them along the sides. A tall, solid wall of reinforced concrete joined the guard posts. Triple barriers of razor wire ran inside and outside the wall, the cleared areas inside the razor wire bearing every sign of being mined and doubtless under extensive remote sensor surveillance. Farther inside the wall, ranks of buildings filled most of the camp, many of them tagged on the images with probable identifications such as prisoner barracks, guard barracks, hospital, administration, and so on. The center of the camp was clear, a large open field that served as both a landing place for Syndic shuttles and a parade ground.