Jack Campbell: Dreadnaught

Another form of dead-man switch. “How’s their health now?”

The doctor shrugged. “Not bad, considering. They had a closed community. Human-origin equipment and devices for survival, medical care and the like. Two of the prisoners had enough medical training to use the equipment and take care of all but the most serious afflictions. They grew crops, and occasionally, quantities of foodstuffs that had clearly been manufactured by humans appeared near the air-lock. From the state of their health, they’ve had adequate nutrition, though of course the diet lacked variety most of the time.”

“What about mentally? How are they?”

The doctor looked down before answering. “Fragile. They had constructed a society inside that asteroid, something stable enough to pass on knowledge and maintain order. There’s a council of sorts that made decisions. But they’ve been so isolated, subject to the whims of totally unseen and unknown captors. Now… some of them are excited at the thought of seeing the sky. Others are terrified of the same thing. Their world, their source of stability, has been destroyed, and not just in the literal sense of the asteroid being shattered.”

Geary sighed. “Surely we did the right thing by rescuing them.”

“Of course. A cage is a cage is a cage. But freedom will be hard for them to adjust to. What are you going to do with them?” the doctor asked.

“Take them home.” Geary paused, realizing that wasn’t as simple a thing as it sounded. “They should all have surviving relatives somewhere in Syndic territory.”

“Where central authority no longer governs many star systems,” the doctor pointed out. “For some of these people, reunions won’t be that difficult. They were first-generation prisoners. But others are the offspring of those captured more than a century ago. The only home they have ever known was the interior of an asteroid, the only family they know are the people who also lived there.”

Hesitating, the doctor finally spoke more slowly. “I fear for them, Admiral. They are… valuable and unique research subjects. There. I said it. There are plenty of people who would be willing to treat them as lab rats, just as the aliens did, and few who could speak on their behalf, especially in the Syndicate Worlds. They need protecting from those who would exploit them and use them.”

“There are limits to my ability to protect them, Doctor.”

“But you can take them home to the Alliance if they wish,” the doctor insisted. “Where others would stand up for their rights. And if Black Jack Geary publicly expresses a wish that they be treated as humans who have already suffered too much, it will influence their treatment. Perhaps even within Syndicate Worlds’ territory.”

It seemed a small thing to ask of him, but Geary saw the greatest roadblock to doing it. “I can and will make such public statements. But what if they don’t want to go to the Alliance?”

“Admiral, what will Syndic CEOs do with those people? You know the answer. I realize it will be a while before we return to human space, but I’d like you to think about it before then.”

The freed humans had all been gathered on Typhoon , which had required shifting some Marines, but the fleet’s doctors had insisted the freed prisoners should be kept together for their own peace of mind, such as it was. Conference software was modified so that Geary could address the entire group, his image appearing simultaneously in each of their berthing areas while to him the former captives all seemed to be in one large room listening to him.

He had seen prisoners liberated from Syndic labor camps, but this was different. The humans clustered together, almost clutching each other. Some wore new clothing provided from fleet stocks, but others still had on a strange mix of clothing, styles and fashions from different periods and professions, most of the clothes threadbare and heavily patched. “We’ll take you wherever you want to go,” Geary said. “Some of you wish to return to homes in the Syndicate Worlds. I know that you’ve been told that things have changed, that life in the Syndicate Worlds is much more uncertain than you may recall, but if that’s where you wish to go, we will try to ensure that you reach your former homes. All of you are welcome to come with us back to Alliance territory, where I give you my word of honor you will be welcomed and treated well.”

They all exchanged glances, some looking fearful and others hopeful, a few children clinging to mothers. “How long do we have to think about it?”

“A few months. That’s how long it will take us to get back to Syndic space because our mission here hasn’t ended.”

They didn’t want to say much more than that, huddled in among themselves, so after a short while, Geary broke the connection and sat down, his thoughts jumbled. And to think I felt sorry for myself when I came out of survival sleep to find a century gone. I was lucky in more ways than one. Forgive me, but I want to hurt those enigmas. Make them pay. But they have been hurt. A lot of them have died, and we’ve destroyed quite a few of their ships. Is it accomplishing anything? At least we got those people freed.

He called up the latest status reports for the fleet. Almost thirty destroyers had suffered sudden equipment failures requiring Captain Smythe’s auxiliaries to focus on those repairs as well as fixing up the latest battle damage. That had caused the planned replacement work to slide, pushing it closer to the looming rise of the failure curve waiting several months ahead.

His hatch alert chimed. He looked up, hoping for Tanya, and found himself looking at Victoria Rione. “What’s the occasion?” It came out more harshly than he intended.

Her expression hardened slightly. “I wanted to inform you that Commander Benan has received a feeler about propagandizing for your replacement.”

“Am I going somewhere?”

She came inside his stateroom. “Accidents happen.”

“Is that a warning or a philosophical musing?”

Rione just shook her head. “I don’t know of any threats to you from within the fleet.”

His mind seized on part of that. “From within the fleet?”

“I said what I said. Who will assume command of this fleet if something does happen to you?”

Geary played with the idea of refusing to answer, giving back her own hidden agendas, but decided to try playing to his own strength of being honest. “Captain Badaya, who has promised to listen to the advice of Tulev and Duellos. Do you want to sit down?”

She took a seat, eyeing him. “No command role for your captain?”

“It’s a safe assumption that if something happens to me, it will also happen to her. She also lacks the necessary seniority, and diplomacy isn’t Tanya’s greatest strength.”

“Oh, you’ve noticed that? But, in the unfortunate event it happened, wouldn’t she benefit from being the widow of Black Jack?” Rione asked.

“Tanya would never use that.”

“If necessary, she should.” Rione hesitated, looking for a tiny moment as if she had said more than she ought to have. “What about all of the admirals waiting on the transports?”

“They’ve all been officially placed on medical holds, awaiting full evaluation before being certified as capable of enduring the strains of active duty.”

Rione laughed. “The great Black Jack is stooping to political games?”

“The great Black Jack knows how badly post-traumatic stress can impact someone. It’s a miracle that I was able to get the fleet away from the Syndics when I was thrown into command. And none of those liberated admirals understand tactics.” He leaned back. “I’m looking out for the fleet.”

“By putting Badaya in command?”