The Lost Stars (36 page)

“But—”

“They want me, Lieutenant. There's no sense in everyone else's dying when I
can—”

“Colonel Rogero,” Bradamont interrupted, “they want you, but they'll hold the entire ship. You and everyone and everything on it. They won't just take you and let everyone else go on their
way.”

“I can take the escape craft—”

“If you eject, they'll assume you're trying to divert them from this ship for a reason. They'll leave you drifting in the escape pod to pick up at their leisure and keep coming for this ship and any other of the freighters they can catch.” Bradamont took a quick breath. “I'm not just trying to save your butt, Colonel. If the commandos catch us, they will hold all of us indefinitely. The entire mission will fail. That's the best case if they catch us. In my estimation, there is a strong chance they will come in shooting because someone in their chain of command has decided that the whole independent-star-system bit is a trick, and everyone aboard these freighters are actually Syndics on some covert mission that violates the peace agreement. Stop thinking about ways to sacrifice yourself. None of them would do any good.”

“What about you?” Ito asked Bradamont. “What happens to you if these freighters are taken?”

She made an angry, helpless gesture. “I have orders from Admiral Geary that justify my being here. I seriously doubt that would do me much good once I'm in the hands of the ground forces or aerospace forces under these circumstances.” Bradamont looked at Rogero, her glance exchanging understanding of the matter they could not openly refer to, her and Rogero's involvement with both Syndicate snakes and Alliance intelligence.

He didn't know what to say, what would be safe to say, but Ito came to his rescue. “I know what the snakes would do to me if I they caught me on an Alliance ship helping them,” she said.

“The last Alliance shuttle has finished off-loading,” Lieutenant Foster cried out in relief, then immediately looked embarrassed at his outburst. “He is breaking free now. Our detachments on the other freighters report all personnel have been brought on board, all hatches are being sealed, and all soldiers report ready for action.”

The Alliance shuttles dropped back quickly, pivoting around to head back to Ambaru for recovery and refueling. For a moment, as the shuttles accelerated in the opposite direction, there was an illusion of the freighters leaping ahead with a burst of speed, but the displays made it clear just what a fantasy that was. The velocity of the freighters was climbing, but with the same dogged slowness as before.

“Lieutenant Foster,” Rogero ordered, “get your armor on and rejoin your unit.”

As Foster rushed off of the freighter's bridge, he had to veer around the other people blocking him in the crowded and confined area. Bradamont stared after Foster, then her hands flew over the maneuvering planning system again. “Colonel Rogero, there's something else we can do. If the freighters use their thrusters to nudge them onto a different vector, the commando shuttles will change their intercept vectors to match. If we then thrust back in the opposite direction, it will force the commando shuttles to swing back.”

“They'll lose ground?” Rogero asked. “And we won't slow down if we change the direction we're going?”

“No. Not for a change this minor. You're in space. We'd just be altering direction enough to force the commando shuttles to change their vectors. That means they'll have more ground to cover to reach us, which will take longer even though they won't slow down either.”

“And if they're close,” Garadun added, “it will mess up their final approaches. Five-degree course change?”

“Seven,” Ito suggested.

Bradamont nodded. “We can do seven, even in these freighters, since we're not worried about how wide the turn would be. Up and to the left. That should maximize how much of a change the commando shuttles would have to make.”

“What about that Alliance destroyer?” Executive Barchi demanded. “What's he going to do when we veer off our vector?”

“We're not veering far enough to threaten anything in this star system,” Bradamont snapped at him. “Nor for long. And he's going to be under orders from Admiral Timbale to protect us. We'll be fine.”

“Do it,” Rogero ordered.

The orders went to the other freighters, and within seconds a slight pressure announced the thrusters on this freighter firing along with those on the other ships.

Was it working? The vectors of the freighters altered with agonizing slowness, but it was impossible for Rogero or anyone else to tell whether or not the commando shuttles were reacting as hoped. “Twenty minutes?” Ito asked, but directed the question to Bradamont rather than Rogero.

“That's as good a guess as any,” Bradamont replied. “Were you a battle cruiser driver,
too?”

“That's right.” Ito turned a superior look on Rogero. “We're the best.”

He just nodded in reply, only belatedly realizing that Ito had included Bradamont in that
we
. Shared danger could go a long way to breaking down barriers.

The freighter lurched slightly, causing Rogero to flex his hand as if it held the weapon still holstered by his side.
That's it. We didn't make it. That lurch must have marked a stealth shuttle making contact with the hull of this freighter. How long until the commandos reach this place on the ship?

The others must have been asking themselves the same question, all except the freighter executive who was listening to something. “We got internal comms back,” Barchi announced with a cheerfulness that shocked the others.

“Wonderful,” Garadun muttered.

“Colonel,” the executive continued, “can you tell your people not to shift crowds all at once? These units aren't made to deal with rapid changes in load locations.”

Rogero squinted at the executive, unable to understand the man's apparent obliviousness. “What do you mean?”

“That lurch. Didn't you feel it? My workers say your people rushed a whole bunch of the ones we picked up over two compartments. That's a lot of mass to shift that fast.”

“The lurch . . .” Rogero grinned, looking at the smiles breaking out on the faces of the others. “That's what it
was?”

“Yes,” Executive Barchi said, giving him a puzzled look. “Is that funny?”

“No. Not funny. Just very good news.”

Bradamont, rigid with tension a moment before, had sagged against the maneuvering controls. “Five more minutes, then we'll swing back.”

“Weaving?” The executive scratched his head. “We don't usually burn thrusters for no reason. That's money down the drain.”

“We have a reason,” Rogero assured
him.

“Here comes that cruiser,” Ito announced.

The Alliance light cruiser
Coupe
slid past astern of the freighters like a sleek shark cruising behind a pod of clumsy whales. Rogero watched the cruiser tear past, wondering if it was as close as it seemed to be to
him.

Apparently it was. Ito shook her head. “If that cruiser came between us and the commando shuttles, they are way too close.”

“Yes,” Bradamont agreed. “Let's swing back
now.”

The orders went out, and the motion of the freighters up and to the left gradually slowed, stopped, then was replaced by a glacial sway to the right and down.

Five minutes. Ten. Twenty. “How long until we're clear?” Rogero asked.

“I don't know,” Bradamont replied.

“The destroyer is coming back,” Ito warned.

All eyes went to that warship on the display as
Bandolier
came in barely astern of the freighters. But instead of sailing past, the Alliance destroyer was braking, her main propulsion units flaring to bring the destroyer to a stop relative to the freighters and not very far behind them at
all.

“What is she . . . ?” Bradamont began.

Bandolier
's thrusters lit off. The warship was vastly more agile than the clumsy freighters, so her hull almost immediately began pivoting, still holding position just astern of the freighters. The bow came up and over and around, the entire ship pivoting in a circle as if it were a hand on a clock of ancient design.

“They're being fairly obvious about fouling the shuttles' approach, aren't they?” Garadun commented. He looked to Rogero as if Garadun couldn't decide whether to be admiring of the maneuver or amused by it but was too tense to do either. “They're very close astern as such things are measured in space.”

“Meaning the commando shuttles are, too,” Bradamont agreed, herself radiating nothing but tension. “Whatever
Bandolier
does next will tell us whether or not that last obstruction trapped the shuttles into an impossibly long stern chase.”

The Alliance destroyer's bow finished spinning through a full three hundred sixty degrees.

Rogero realized that he was holding his breath, watching the Alliance destroyer, waiting to see what its next move would
be.

Instead of continuing around again,
Bandolier
rolled and pivoted to one side, coming out pointed in the same direction as the freighters.

Bradamont nodded wearily. “That did it. They're just accompanying us now. I expect that
Coupe
will come back and join up with
Bandolier
.”

Rogero felt the same sense of tiredness as his body finally relaxed. “They'll stay back there until we reach the jump point?”

“Once the commando shuttles give up the chase, there's a chance
Bandolier
and
Coupe
will maneuver around us, taking up different positions relative to the freighters, to make it hard for any fixed defenses to throw rocks at us without risking hitting them. That's what I would
do.”

“Thank you, Captain Bradamont,” Rogero said. “I'm going to tell the soldiers on the other units to stand down and locate Lieutenant Foster to tell him we can relax on this freighter. It would be a good idea for you to return to the comm compartment, where you can see if Admiral Timbale has sent any further messages.”

She nodded, then, with a small smile, stood at attention and saluted
him.

Rogero returned the salute with crisp professionalism, knowing that they would never have made it out of danger without
her.

Garadun gestured to Ito. “Since Alliance forces are escorting us, we'll provide an escort for this Alliance officer. She's not safe in the passageways of this unit if she's moving alone. You should assign some of those ground forces soldiers to guard her now that this freighter is full of veterans from the Reserve Flotilla.”

“Thank you. I'll do that.”

Bradamont had paused, her eyes on the display. Was it his imagination that those eyes held a yearning in them? She had given up those Alliance ships to serve as a liaison officer, and now could only watch as others rode those decks and ordered those ships about.

She looked away, catching him watching her. No, he wasn't mistaken about her feelings.

“Thank you,” Rogero said, this time only to her. He was certain she knew he meant it for far more than just her help in this latest incident. “I'll accompany you as well. It's on my
way.”

He, Bradamont, Garadun, and Ito moved off the command deck and into the passageways, now crowded with survivors from the Reserve Flotilla. Bradamont's Alliance fleet uniform drew looks of surprise that almost immediately changed to anger and hate. Shouts sounded, hands reached to punch and push, but Garadun and Ito shouted back. A year as prisoners of war had done nothing to fray the iron discipline drilled into Syndicate forces. At the commands from a sub-CEO and an executive, men and women fell back, faces going blank as they came to attention.

And Ito, at least, had gone into full executive mode, her voice booming through the passageway and surely carrying a good distance down it. “You will
now
hear this!
All
line workers,
all
line supervisors,
all
junior-executive ranks
will
treat
this
Alliance officer as a
direct
assistant to Colonel Rogero.
Anything
said to her
will
be appropriate to her status, and
any
physical action against her
will
be treated as
deliberate assault
against a
supervisor
. Is that
clear
?”

Everyone in the passageway waited for the two-second beat required, then thundered their response. “Yes, Madam Executive!”

The rest of the walk to the tiny comm compartment was met by silence, and everyone lined up along the bulkheads as word spread ahead faster than the small group could walk. As Bradamont said good-bye to Rogero she beckoned him close. “Did their treatment of me really outrage her that much?”

Rogero replied in a low voice. “I believe Executive Ito was very unhappy with the treatment you were receiving. But that's because of your actions. She sees you as an equal if also a recent enemy. What made her outraged was to see line workers and supervisors behaving that way toward someone of executive rank, as well as the lack of discipline in their showing such behavior in the presence of her and Sub-CEO Garadun.”

“I see.” Bradamont smiled wryly. “I guess I should be grateful, whatever the reasons.”

“I'll have two soldiers here before you leave. You'll have an escort from now
on.”

“It looks very much as if Ito's instructions are being followed,” Bradamont pointed
out.

Rogero paused, realizing how little Bradamont knew of the Syndicate way of doing things. It was hard to think of her as being innocent, yet when it came to the underside of Syndicate life, she knew almost nothing despite the attack on General Drakon soon after her arrival. “You understood the need for bodyguards on the planet.”