Valiant

“I guess we used to do that more often a century ago.” Geary looked down, gathering his arguments. “I know what’s been done. I know what Syndic ships may be doing at this moment. But how can we just sail by and let those people die? Anything we could have done at Lakota would have been insignificant against the scale of the tragedy. Here we can make a difference.”

“Sir, any delay could be fatal. We don’t know what kind of Syndic force might be in pursuit of us, or what forces are moving to block us in other star systems. Going to that world will cost at least an extra day in this star system. Maneuvering to pick them up will cost fuel-cell reserves we can’t afford to burn. Not a lot, but some. They’ll eat our rations while aboard our ships, and we’re already short on food, too. On board they’ll have to be guarded constantly to ensure that they don’t commit sabotage. And then we’ll have to find a way to drop them off in the next star system without costing too much time and fuel-cell reserves, possibly while dodging an enemy flotilla.” Desjani laid out each point in turn, then spoke firmly. “Sir, the cost of this gesture could well be more than we can afford.”

“I understand.” And he truly did. What would be the morality of hazarding the many thousands of personnel in this fleet, and the fate of the Alliance itself, in the name of saving a few hundred enemy civilians? It wasn’t like he didn’t have other things to worry about, like whoever had placed the worm in the fleet’s jump drives, and might take advantage of any focus on these Syndics to commit more sabotage. He’d hoped that once the fleet returned to normal space someone who had searched their conscience during the transit to Wendig would have contacted him with important information, but no such informant had appeared. Nor had Rione’s or Duellos’s sources within the fleet discovered anything new. But was that a critical factor in deciding whether or not to help these people? “Co-President Rione, what is your opinion?”

Rione took a while to answer. “I can’t dispute the arguments laid out against offering assistance,” she finally replied in an unemotional voice. “But you want to do it anyway, don’t you, Captain Geary?” Geary nodded. “Then my advice would be to follow your instincts. Every time you’ve done so, you’ve been right.”

Desjani turned enough to glare at Rione, then her expression changed as she thought. “Co-President Rione is right, sir. About your instincts. You are guided in ways we are not.”

Geary managed not to groan. Guided. By the living stars themselves. Or so Desjani and a large portion of the fleet believed.

“But, sir,” Desjani continued, “it’s still a very large risk. My advice has not changed. Besides, it’s very likely that another Syndic pursuit force will come through this system after us. They’ll hear the distress message, too.”

He nodded, grateful at the realization that a humane alternative existed. Then another insight hit. “Would a Syndic force in pursuit of us divert to assist those civilians?”

Desjani’s lips compressed into a thin line, then she shook her head. “Probably not, sir. Almost certainly not. Their commander would be sent to the labor camps for wasting time.”

Give Desjani full credit. She didn’t want to divert to help those people, for a long list of good reasons, but she’d given him an honest assessment even though it hurt her case. He thought about the people on Wendig One. It was entirely possible that some of them, even adults, had never seen any ship in their star system. Why would any ship come here once the hypernet had been constructed? Now, with their means of life failing, they would look up and see this fleet and watch it pass by and leave. Then they’d maybe see a Syndic flotilla and watch it pass by and leave. Then there’d be no more ships. While the air got colder and harder to breathe. While the elderly and the youngest children died one by one, the strongest citizens clinging despairingly to each other as death came slowly for them each in turn, until Wendig Star System was as devoid of human life as it had been for uncounted millennia before the first starships came here.

Geary drew in a deep breath. The vision he’d seen of the dying colony had been so real, as if he were there. Where had it come from?

Maybe he was being guided. He knew what his heart said, and he knew what everything he’d been taught said. Measured against that was the cruel reality of war and the necessities of command. But there wasn’t a Syndic flotilla right on this fleet’s tail, no imminent threat to measure against those innocent lives.