Valiant

decision to aid the Syndics, but instead there was another wave of revulsion at the idea of hijacking ships’ combat systems. Humans had never fully lost their mistrust of automated combat systems, so anyone messing with their software to cause weapons systems to act on their own ended up on the wrong side of the fence as far as just about everyone was concerned.

Shuttles soared between warships, bringing new fuel cells and expendable munitions, replacement parts and anything else the auxiliaries had manufactured to meet the needs of the fleet during the period since leaving Lakota. Geary was pleased to see his fleet’s average fuel-cell reserves climb back up to 65 percent. Not great by a long shot, but better than it had been. Commander Savos was brought to Orion as her new commanding officer, fully aware of the challenge he faced there. Maybe he could turn Orion around as Commander Suram had done with Warrior.

The next reply from the Syndics didn’t come until the Alliance fleet was less than a single light-hour from Wendig One and about ten hours at its current velocity from reaching the planet. “We will trust you because we have no choice. Some of our people are using the few working survival suits we have left to try to sweep clear the landing pad you indicated. All of us will be standing by when your shuttles arrive.”

Desjani listened to the message with a resigned look.

Rione’s expression masked her thoughts. Everyone else Geary could see seemed puzzled, trying to figure out why he was doing this. In a way, that was very depressing. But none of them were objecting anymore, and that was at least hopeful.

The shuttles launched as the fleet approached Wendig, the Alliance warships braking their velocity to allow time for the shuttles to reach the surface, load, and rejoin. Geary monitored the action from the bridge of Dauntless. Every shuttle had a detachment of Marines in full battle armor aboard just in case. He hadn’t been thrilled by that since it meant reducing the passenger capacity of the shuttles and requiring using more of them, but Colonel Carabali had been insistent, and he’d recognized the wisdom of her strongly worded suggestions.

“All birds down,” the operations watch-stander reported.

On his display, Geary could see an overhead image of the grounded shuttles, the Marines spilling out to stand sentry and screen the passengers, evacuation tubes being run to the air lock on the civilian town. He toggled briefly to the video feed from one of the Marines. The outside of the Syndic town already looked long abandoned, drifts of toxic snow and sand piled up against its walls, broken and cannibalized equipment littering the lifeless landscape. Geary couldn’t help shivering at the cold, empty image of desolation. “Can you imagine being trapped in a place like that?” he asked Desjani.

She viewed the feed, frowning, but said nothing.

“Loading complete,” Colonel Carabali reported. This was a landing expedition and therefore a Marine operation, she had insisted. “Evac tubes being withdrawn into shuttles. Shuttle liftoff estimated in zero three minutes.”

“Any problems, Colonel?” Geary asked.

“Not yet, sir.” Confronted with well over five hundred Syndics, Carabali obviously believed it was only a matter of time before problems arose.

“Birds in the air on schedule,” the operations watch-stander reported. “Rendezvous with warships projected on time in twenty-five minutes.”

Desjani tapped her own controls. “Colonel Carabali, please confirm all Syndics were searched for weapons and destructive materials.”

Carabali sounded slightly insulted at having a fleet officer ask if Marines had done their jobs. “Absolutely. Full scans. They’re clean. They don’t have much.”

Geary and Desjani went down to the shuttle dock to see the Syndic civilians destined for Dauntless arrive. The Syndics filed off the shuttle between ranks of Marines in full battle armor with weapons at guard position. Some of the civilians were trying to look brave, but all appeared frightened. Fifty-one of them, their civilian clothes a mix of styles and types that Geary realized must reflect raiding old stockpiles and closets as their supplies of clothing wore out. All of them seemed slightly gaunt, reflecting what must have been short rations in recent years as the amount of food available also ran low.

They were also trying not to stare around at the ship and at the Alliance personnel in the hangar deck. It struck Geary as he watched them that these people had never encountered strangers before, never actually been anyplace unfamiliar. Far in time and space as they were from mankind’s origins, these Syndics were like the ancient inhabitants of a small island encountering their first ships from the outside. Not just ships, but warships carrying people who were supposed to be their sworn enemies.

Desjani stood beside him, her posture rigid, her face revealing nothing as she watched the enemy civilians walk onto the deck of her ship.

Geary recognized the man he’d spoken with and stepped forward. “Welcome to the Alliance fleet flagship. We’ll have to keep you all under guard, and a warship isn’t designed for a lot of passengers, so your accommodations will be pretty cramped.”

The man nodded. “I’m the mayor of… Well, I used to be the mayor of Alpha. We can’t very well complain about conditions here. It’s warm, and we can breathe. We honestly didn’t know if our life-support systems would hold out until your shuttles reached us.” The man’s eyes were still troubled by the memories of what must have been an agonizing wait. “But at least we knew you were coming. There haven’t been any ships here since the corporations pulled out. Before we got your call, we were getting ready to draw lots, though some argued the oldest shouldn’t even draw since we wouldn’t last long anyway.”

It was all too easy to imagine how these people had felt. “Why weren’t you evacuated from this star system along with everyone else?”

This time the mayor made a baffled gesture. “We have no idea. All of us who were left worked for subsidiaries of the same corporation, and our senior staff left on the last ship sent by another company. We were told the ships for us would arrive soon. They never did.”

“We’re taking you to Cavalos, so I guess your ships finally did arrive.”

The mayor grinned nervously. “Better late than never, right? You said you’re Captain John Geary? We know the name. It’s in our histories, though I expect they say different things than yours do. You’re his grandson?”

Geary shook his head. “No. I’m him. It’s a long story,” he added, as the mayor stared at him in disbelief, “but suffice it to say I fought at Grendel in the first battle of this war, and the living stars willing, I’ll see the last battle of it as well.”

The man leaned back involuntarily, his eyes wide.

A woman stood beside the mayor, her eyes constantly shifting from him to Geary, then to three children hanging on to her. The oldest of those, a young boy, saw his father recoil slightly and eyed Geary defiantly. “Don’t you dare hurt my father!”

Before Geary could answer he became aware that Desjani was beside him again, gazing down at the boy, her face still expressionless but her eyes showing inexplicable sadness. “Your father will not be harmed on my ship as long he does not attempt to cause any damage to my ship.”

The boy moved slightly, putting himself between Desjani and his mother. “We can’t believe you. We know what you’ve done.”

To Geary’s surprise, Desjani went to one knee so her head was on a level with the boy’s. “Man of the Syndicate Worlds,” she addressed the boy as if he were his father’s age, “under the command of Captain John Geary, the Alliance fleet no longer wars on the innocent or the helpless. Even should he leave his command, we would not do so again because he has reminded us of that which honor demands of warriors. You need not protect your family from us.”

The boy, wordless with surprise at being spoken to that way, nodded.

Desjani rose and looked down at the boy, then at his mother, exchanging some wordless message. The mother nodded, seeming reassured. Then Desjani gazed around and spoke in her command voice, her words ringing through the shuttle dock. “Citizens of the Syndicate Worlds, I’m Captain Desjani, commanding officer of the Alliance battle cruiser Dauntless. You are not combatants and will be treated as civilians in need of humanitarian assistance unless you try to harm my ship or members of my crew. Follow all instructions and orders given you. Anyone who violates orders or attempts to damage this ship or harm any Alliance personnel will be regarded as an enemy combatant and treated accordingly. We will require