The Lost Fleet: Beyond the Frontier: Guardian

“Nothing new happening that we can tell,” she replied. “Eleven stealth shuttles have been spotted and destroyed. There hasn’t been a new detection for some time, so we might have gotten them all. What happened on Invincible?”

“We’ve got two nukes, but there might be a third, and the Syndic commander is threatening to use it.” He shifted back to General Carabali. “Eleven Syndic shuttles have been confirmed and destroyed so far. Does that help estimate how many Syndics came aboard?”

“It gives us an upper limit,” Carabali said. “The shuttles might not have been full. An operation like this usually has some excess lift capability in case some of the shuttles develop problems. Unfortunately, it tells us nothing about how many nukes they might have brought aboard.”

“Do you think they would really detonate a nuke, if they still have one, when they’re also in the blast zone?”

General Carabali frowned. “Admiral, these are Syndic special forces. Not fanatics from the Syndic security service.”

“Major Dietz thought they might be fanatics.”

“It was a reasonable guess, but from what I’ve seen of their equipment and tactics, they’re soldiers. Syndic special forces are highly trained and reliable, but I can’t think of any cases where they conducted deliberate suicide attacks during the war.”

“You don’t think their commander will carry through with her threat?”

“I don’t know, Admiral. It’s not typical of the Syndic special forces, but it’s not impossible. The Syndics seem to be falling back on suicide attacks out of desperation. An additional factor is that the, uh, atmosphere aboard Invincible is extremely unsettling. What impact that might have on the Syndics’ decisions even in a larger group I can’t say.”

“Make sure we keep offering to let them surrender.”

Carabali nodded, but she did not look hopeful. “They can’t assume if they do surrender that we’ll treat them as prisoners of war, Admiral.”

“I have never authorized—”

“That’s true, Admiral. But those were prisoners who were unquestionably Syndic military personnel. They had uniforms, they were part of units, they carried all the necessary official identifiers. In this case, the woman we’re talking to who claims to be the commander of this group isn’t giving a rank for herself. The Syndics we’ve killed, and in a couple of cases captured, have no military insignia or identification on them. They’re equipped with Syndic special-forces gear, but the equipment has had all identifying information scrubbed out and filed off. Even the implanted chips that contain medical and other information have been removed from their bodies. There’s nothing tying them to being part of the Syndic military and nothing giving them any official status at all.”

Geary stared at Carabali. “Are they trying to claim they’re pirates or something?”

“Private individuals,” Carabali said in a flat voice, “on a private venture. That’s all we’ve gotten out of the one prisoner who is able to talk.”

“Do you think they’ll stick with that even if it means they face death for terrorist actions?” Geary demanded.

“It’s hard to tell, Admiral. We’re in unexplored territory when it comes to that. Before, they’d be Syndics, and we were at war, so we’d treat them all as combatants. For better or worse. Now that we’re officially at peace, technically the official Syndics have protections as prisoners that freelancers do not. However, they don’t seem to have anything on them that would prove any claim they made to official status, if they tried to make one, and I think it’s a reasonable assumption that the Syndic CEOs here will deny any knowledge of them and their actions, which means that no matter what they said, we could legally, officially, and with honor execute them all.”

And these Syndics surely knew that. Had they known it going into this operation? Or had they only realized it when trapped aboard Invincible, their initial attacks foiled and their numbers rapidly dwindling, while the Kick ghosts gnawed at their minds?

“Offer them a chance to live,” Geary said slowly. “Tell them I will give my word of honor, officially and on the record, that any of them who surrender and cooperate will not be harmed.”

“I’ll make sure that offer gets to them,” Carabali said. Her expression hadn’t wavered, but her tone of voice was that of someone agreeing to a course of action she had no expectation of working. She paused, frowning to one side as she listened to a report. “Admiral, the prisoner who is being interrogated shows signs of having been subjected to mental conditioning.”

Why did news like this continue to surprise him? “What kind of mental conditioning?”

“It’s not clear yet. Any discussion of a military background generates responses consistent with mental conditioning. They may be incapable of admitting they are, or were, special-forces personnel.” Carabali grimaced. “They may also be incapable of surrendering. If they won’t, or can’t, surrender, we’ll have to take whatever actions are necessary.”