“Yes, sir,” Iger responded. “Syndic major logistics support isn’t handled by combat arms. It’s handled by a different directorate and contracted out to corporations. Our fleet never sees repair ships like these because they’re never supposed to go where they can encounter Alliance warships.”
“They’re civilian?” Geary demanded.
“Yes, sir. Military-related civilian, of course. Totally legitimate targets. But no military personnel aboard, no combat training, no defenses. That’s why they’re abandoning ship. They and their corporations aren’t paid to engage in combat. From what we know, the crews would get in trouble if their actions somehow caused us to inflict more damage on those repair ships. So they’re punching out now.”
“Wait a minute. They want to ensure as little damage as possible is done to those repair ships?” Iger nodded vigorously. “We know that?”
“Yes, sir. From captured records and prisoner interrogations. Most Syndic fleet personnel don’t like the civilian contract people because they don’t think they get proper support from them. The civilian contractors are also paid considerably more, which is probably the real main point of contention as far as Syndic military personnel are concerned. ”
“I’ll be damned.” Geary thought for a moment. “Then they won’t have rigged any traps on those repair ships?”
Iger hesitated, clearly thinking, looked sideways as someone else in the intelligence section spoke to him, then nodded again. “I’d regard that as very unlikely, sir. They’d lose their jobs if their corporations thought they had caused more damage to those ships. It’s safe to assume they’ve shut down all systems and left the repair ships to coast in the hope that we’ll ignore them or just toss a few shots at them as we cruise past.”
“They’re going to be disappointed. Thanks, Lieutenant. Excellent work by you and your people.”
As Lieutenant Iger’s image vanished, Geary turned to speak to both Desjani and Rione, then repeated what the intelligence officer had said. “You’ve never seen these sorts of repair ships?” he asked Desjani.
She shook her head. “Only in briefing documents on Syndic ship types. No, I’ve never encountered one and don’t think I ever ran a simulation with one in it, either.”
Turning back to Rione, Geary addressed her. “Does what Lieutenant Iger said make sense to you?”
“As a civilian?” she asked sardonically.
“Yes.” More importantly, as a civilian after a century of war. Geary’s last experience with other civilians had been almost one hundred years ago, before the war with the Syndicate Worlds began. He’d seen what a century of war had done to the officers and sailors of the fleet, and wondered how it had changed civilians.
Rione gazed at him, seeming to guess the reasons for his question. “Certainly. As much as they’d like their military forces to triumph, as much as they’ve grown to hate the enemy, civilians are still not prepared to stand up to battle. Even if some individuals in those crews were ready to resist, they would have been carried away by the mass of their fellows who only wanted to avoid dying.” Rione caught the expression on Desjani’s face. “They’re
Desjani shrugged, her eyes on Geary. “Neither do those Syndic warships heading to intercept this fleet.”
But Geary shook his head at her. “Staying with those ships when they lack any combat training or capability wouldn’t accomplish anything. You or I would at least ensure they weren’t captured intact if we had any suspicion the enemy intended doing that, but dying to no purpose wouldn’t serve our cause.” He jerked his chin toward the display, which showed the two Syndic battleships charging toward them, still hours away from contact. “The Syndic commander is throwing away those ships and crews because he or she can, because those crews will follow senseless orders, even though it’s a total waste. May the living stars help me if I ever decide to waste lives like that just because I can.”
Desjani frowned slightly, her eyes averted as she thought. It had to be a difficult concept for someone raised and trained to believe that honor demanded fighting to the death. For someone who already knew she would do that if necessary. But then she had made that commitment before joining the fleet and lived with it since then. “Yes, sir,” she responded eventually. “I see your point. We expect obedience from those under us, and in return they deserve respect for their willingness to follow orders to the death.”
“Exactly.” She’d actually said it better than he had. He remembered Desjani once telling him that she’d been offered a job at her uncle’s literary agency before she joined the fleet, and once again wondered what Desjani would have been like if she hadn’t been born and brought up amidst a war already ancient to the Alliance.
Rione spoke again, her tone genuinely curious. “There’s something I don’t understand here. You watched the crews of the crippled Syndic warships we’ve already overrun hastily abandoning their own ships, yet didn’t seem to find it dishonorable the way you did the civilians fleeing their ships. Why?”
Desjani grimaced but didn’t turn or answer, so Geary did. “Because the warship crews waited until the last minute to abandon ship,” he explained.
Co-President Rione eyed him for a moment as if judging his seriousness. “Even though the action was inevitable, the fact that they waited made it better than if they’d left as soon as it was certain they couldn’t escape our pursuit.
“Well… yeah.” Geary looked toward Desjani, but she didn’t seem interested in helping explain anything to Victoria Rione. “Something might happen. Something unexpected. Maybe we’ll veer off. Maybe some big Syndic force will appear behind us at the jump point or come in through the hypernet gate again and cause us to run. Maybe the ships headed for them in particular will have something happen and drop their pursuit. Maybe they’ll get another weapon working and be able to put up a decent fight. Maybe a lot of things. So you wait as long as possible, just in case.”
“Just in case a miracle happens?” Rione asked.
“Pretty much. Yeah. Because they do. Sometimes. If you keep fighting or remain ready to fight even after it seems hopeless.”
She frowned at him, then lowered her eyes for a few moments in thought. “Yes,” Rione finally said. “Sometimes miracles happen. As long as you don’t give up while any hope remains. I do understand. But at what point does the hope for a miracle change from inspirational motivation to suicidal insanity?”
How to answer that? “It depends,” Geary finally stated.
Co-President Rione’s eyes rose and locked on his. “And it’s the job of the commander to judge the situation and decide whether continuing to hope for a miracle is sensible or insane?”
He didn’t like thinking of it in those terms, but… “Yeah. I guess so.”
Rione’s smile appeared to be half-mocking. “Like coming back to Lakota instead of running through Ixion or trying to stand and fight there? I hope your judgment remains as sound in the future, Captain Geary. You seem to have a talent for sniffing out miracles.”
He nodded back, unsure of how to respond to that, then faced forward again, noticing as he did so that Desjani seemed slightly baffled. “What’s the matter?”
Captain Desjani shook her head. “Nothing, sir.”
“Like hell. Is there something I ought to know?”
“No, sir,” Desjani repeated, then twisted her mouth in annoyance before answering in a low voice. “I’m just… surprised to find myself agreeing with Co-President Rione on anything, sir.”
“You’re both crazy.”
Desjani grinned.
“Update on Syndic warships in the Casualty Flotilla,” the operations watch-stander announced.
Geary checked his display. Of the four Syndic battleships undergoing extensive repairs, only one showed signs of powering up any of its weaponry. The others apparently had their systems so badly damaged or extensively dismantled for repairs that they couldn’t be activated on such short notice. Out of the seven battle cruisers in the formation, only two revealed indications that some of their hell-lance batteries were being charged. The twelve heavy cruisers seemed marginally better off, with five showing weapons activity.
One of the Syndic battle cruisers, its propulsion system less badly damaged than that of its fellows, had begun accelerating away at a painfully slow rate. “Running?” Desjani wondered, her fingers dancing across controls as she checked something. “Not on that vector. He’s trying to join with the other damaged ships forming up ahead of the Casualty Flotilla.”
The Syndics were obviously still hoping for their own miracle that would keep the Alliance fleet from
