Dreadnaught

“No. Thank you.” He had to think about this. Were these individuals still valuable to the Alliance? To the government? But if they followed the molds that Geary had seen thus far, they would be thorns in the government’s side. “Wait. Lieutenant, I’d like you to go through their records. From before they were captured. What I’d like to know is whether any of these VIPs had some special knowledge, skills, or political relationships that would still be important for their rapid return to the Alliance.” Phrase it that way, so it didn’t sound like he was trying to discover the government’s reason for sending him here.

“Yes, sir.”

“What did he say?” Desjani asked, as Geary ended the call. The concern in her voice told him that his expression was giving away too much.

“Let’s talk later.” Right now he had to do something else. Was it better to have the VIPs underfoot on Dauntless, or stashed somewhere where he wouldn’t have to fend them off? I can more easily transfer them to other ships, if I want to, if they’re first warehoused somewhere. He quickly called Carabali. “General, change of plans. I’d like all of the liberated prisoners delivered to Typhoon and Mistral. The assault transports are better suited to rapid screening and medical exams.”

The Marine commander paused, then nodded. “Yes, sir. I’ll direct the shuttles to head for Typhoon and Mistral. Are both of those ships aware of the change in plans?”

Carabali could be very diplomatic for a Marine. “I’m notifying them once I finish speaking with you.”

“Very well, Admiral. I should inform you that the first shuttle has already launched with orders to proceed to Dauntless. Should I divert it as well?”

Damn. An obvious change in destination for that shuttle at this point would raise too many questions. “No. We’ll take them aboard here.”

Back to Desjani. “Dauntless will only get one shuttle. The others are going to Typhoon and Mistral.”

She eyed him curiously. “All right. We were planning on processing more than that, but it’s your fleet. Do Typhoon and Mistral know—”

“I’m calling them now!”

“Excuse me,” Desjani muttered just loud enough for him to hear, then raised her voice. “Lieutenant Mori, we’re only getting one shuttle. Inform everyone on the intake teams.”

Finishing informing the commanding officers of Typhoon and Mistral of the change, and wincing inside as he knew how much of a last-minute scramble those orders would cause on those ships, Geary turned to a stony-faced Desjani. “Sorry. It’s because they’re VIPs.”

“Who are VIPs?”

“The prisoners.”

“All of them?”

“Damn near.”

After a moment, Desjani asked another question. “Military VIPs?”

“Yeah. Like Falco.”

“What the hell?”

“My feelings exactly.”

With no opposition, the Marines on the ground were moving very quickly. “There were fewer than three hundred prisoners in this camp,” Carabali reported. “Most of the cells were unoccupied. We have all of the POWs in hand and are loading the last ones into shuttles now. I’ve already started lifting Marines out, too. Estimate fifteen minutes until the last Alliance personnel are off the surface.”

“Excellent.” It all went like clockwork, even as he waited for something to go wrong, some unexpected factor to suddenly throw a wrench into the smoothly working operation. But the last Marines dodged into the last shuttles, the last ramps rose, and the last shuttles leaped into the air, leaving ranks of disarmed Syndic prison guards standing around apparently uncertain of what to do next.

“Shuttle on final,” the maneuvering watch reported. “Estimated time to dock five minutes.”

“How long until the last shuttles are recovered?” Geary asked.

“Forty minutes, sir.”

Every Syndic on the planet seemed to have gone to cover. Nothing was moving in the sky or on the roads or in open country. “Looks like the Syndics here finally figured out what a bad idea it was to mess with this fleet,” Desjani commented, drawing grins from her watch-standers.

Geary stood up. “I’m going down to greet that shuttle, Captain Desjani. I’ll be back here within half an hour. I need to see some of these VIPs and talk to them.” Maybe then I can get some clue as to the reason we were sent here.

Desjani just nodded, her eyes on her display, her brow furrowed in thought.

He walked briskly, trying not to reveal any disquiet to the crew members he passed, who all seemed cheerful as a result of the one-sided fight and victory, word of which was already flashing through the fleet. Inside the shuttle dock, Geary paused to take in the sailors forming up to serve as a combined honor guard and intake force to get the newly liberated prisoners evaluated, assigned quarters, and given necessary treatment.

“We meet again,” Rione murmured as she came up beside him.

“What brings an emissary down here?” Geary asked.