“We couldn’t physically access the fuel-cell storage areas before now because of security lockouts that the…um…Tigres said might trigger lethal countermeasures if overridden,” Sindi Taman explained. “But I’m old school, Captain. I was taught to always physically inventory items and not depend on automated counts, so I’ve been pushing to get access, and the Tigres finally managed to get those lockouts cleared.”

  She paused, grimacing. “Captain, I did a physical count. This ship is not at ninety-two percent capacity for fuel cells. We’re at fourteen percent.”

  Geary couldn’t move for a moment, staring at her. “Fourteen percent?” he finally managed to say. “Ancestors save us. That’s dangerously low. How could the numbers be so far off?”

  Chief Taman gestured around them. “The Tigres say corruption is awful in the Syndicate Worlds. Inventories are always being faked. Spares are sold for profit. Maybe the fuel cells got diverted to some black market. Or they suggested maybe it was sabotage by someone who wanted to strand those, um, snakes somewhere.”

  Sindi Taman nodded with a grim expression. “The automated inventories would have kept telling us we had plenty left, even after we had none. Whatever the reason for it, it was deliberate. The fuel cells we do have are stacked forward in the storage areas to hide the fact that the racks behind them are empty.”

  “The former Syndics know about this?” Geary asked.

  “Yes, sir,” Chief Taman said. “We had to have them with us when we went in to do the count, because they had to check for other dangerous security measures we might encounter. So they know.”

  “We have to physically inventory everything else on this ship,” Geary said. “Weapons, spares, food, you name it. And I want every officer informed that we cannot trust the Syndic automated inventories. Maybe we can’t trust other data we’re getting, either. We have to verify we’re getting accurate data from everything.”

  “I was going to recommend that, Captain,” Chief Sindi Taman said. “It’s going to be a lot of work, but it’s absolutely necessary. Sir, we can’t get to Anahuac on fourteen percent of our fuel cells, let alone get home.”

  Michael nodded, trying not to show how badly this news had rattled him. “I’ll run the data to see how far we can get, but I’m sure that you’re right. Which means we have to somehow get some more fuel cells.”

  “How are we going to do that deep in Syndic space, sir?”

  “I don’t know yet. Maybe there are some we can hijack at Ravana. But we will find them.” He only wished he was really as confident of that as he tried to project.

  Every plan had just been shredded. Worrying about what would happen when they reached Anahuac didn’t make much sense when they couldn’t get there with the fuel-cell reserves they had.

  And the former Syndics already knew. He’d have to talk to Aragon about this.

  “Captain Michael Geary. We need to talk.”

  He looked past the Chief Tamans, seeing Aragon at the door, her expression once again unrevealing of her emotions.

  Chapter Five

  Aragon waited as the two Alliance senior workers left, wondering at the somber atmosphere she had sensed the moment she reached this stateroom. Something was up. She’d have to see whether Michael Geary would tell her outright or if she would have to demand the information.

  “Please have a seat,” Geary said, his attitude worried.

  “I’m fine standing.” Aragon walked to the front of his desk, gazing down at him. “There is a problem.”

  He nodded. “The fuel cells.”

  Aragon paused, startled. “The…fuel cells?”

  “I was told you’d be aware of it.”

  She almost snapped at him for the possibly implied rebuke. But her mind was busy trying to figure out why she wouldn’t have heard about this fuel-cell thing. Geary himself had apparently just heard it from those workers, so it was a recent development. Her workers would have known to inform her, but they would have also known they should first inform their supervisors, who would have told Sub-Executive Harbin or Nedele.

  Both of whom had been in a meeting with her. Workers knew not to interrupt meetings of executives unless it was critical. If the workers had been unsure, they would have waited.

  Having figured out why she hadn’t heard this information, and reassured that Geary was immediately telling her of it, Aragon regained her mental balance and shook her head at Geary. “Why don’t you tell me, Captain Michael Geary?”

  “This ship is almost out of fuel.”

  Whatever else could be said about Michael Geary, he was direct in delivering bad news. How had his superiors in the Alliance Fleet reacted to that? If they were anything like Syndicate CEOs and senior executives, it couldn’t have endeared Michael Geary to them. “Why didn’t you know this as soon as we took the ship?”

  She listened as Geary explained, doing her best not to show how unhappy the news made her.

  “The bottom line,” Michael Geary finished, “is that our current fuel cell state is so low, we can’t even reach Anahuac, let alone proceed on to try to reach Alliance space. If Chief Taman hadn’t found out about the problem, our systems would have kept telling us we had plenty of fuel reserves right up until the moment the power core shut down for lack of fuel. That would have left us dependent on a limited amount of backup power and almost helpless.”

  “It likely was sabotage, then,” Aragon said. “Whoever was outfitting this unit knew it was going to be employed by the snakes. What’s the answer? How do we deal with this?”

  He tapped the table between them for emphasis. “We need to find a source for more fuel cells. Without that, we can’t get you to Anahuac. Even diverting to reach that labor camp at Ravana is extremely unwise while our reserves are so low.”

  “Really?” Aragon fixed him with a look. “Is that what this is about? Finding an excuse to go back on our agreement for Ravana?”

  “No,” Michael Geary said forcefully. “Regardless, we need to get our hands on more fuel cells. Maybe there are some we can access at Ravana.”

  “You haven’t checked?”

  It was his turn to look openly affronted at the possible reprimand. “I just found out about this.”

  She walked around the desk, standing close to him to call up the data on Ravana, aware of him frowning and leaning away so his head wasn’t next to her chest. If it was act of pretended respect for her, it was well done. “Here. This ‘mobile unit logistics facility.’ Is that what we need?”

  Geary leaned in, studying the data. “It shows they should have some fuel cells in stock. Maybe not enough, but anything will be better than what we’ve got. Damn. That facility is orbiting the primary inhabited world at Ravana, within range of surface-based aerospace fighters and orbital defenses.”

  “Aerospace? You mean Near-Orbit Attack Units?” Aragon tapped a command. “Sure. It says there’s a unit assigned to Ravana.”

  Michael Geary grimaced. “You were planning on surprising the labor camp by pretending to be a CEO. We’ll have to use that same idea to get to the logistics facility first.”

  “First?” Aragon said, letting anger show in her voice. “No. If anything went wrong, an alert would be sounded. We wouldn’t have any chance of surprising the labor camp.”

  Geary rubbed his face, looking weary. “I know that might mean your soldiers take more losses—”

  “No! Are you stupid?” Aragon pointed a rigid finger at the data on Ravana. “If the guards at the labor camp know we’re coming to try to free the prisoners, they’ll terminate all of them before we get there.”

  He stared at her. “Terminate? Kill all of them?” She watched Geary take in a long breath. “Okay. One, don’t call me stupid. I’m not one of your Syndic workers. Are we clear on that? Two, are you certain of that outcome? Is it a possibility, or a certainty?”

  Aragon took a step back, calming herself. He was Alliance, she reminded herself, unschooled in the ways of the Syndicate. “A certainty.”

  He glowered at the display. “But if we hit the labor camp first, the defenses around the planet will be alerted and we won’t be able to get those fuel cells. We have to get the fuel cells first.”

  “It’s too likely something will go wrong! We’ll either have to abandon our comrades without trying to rescue them, or cause their immediate deaths!”

  Geary pointed at the data. “Executive Aragon, if we don’t get more fuel cells, it doesn’t matter whether we rescue your comrades. We’ll run out of fuel for the power core and we won’t be going to Anahuac, or anywhere.”

  “There must be an option,” Aragon said, hoping he would think of one.

  “We need to be in two places at once,” Michael Geary said. “But we’ve only got one ship.” He paused, his eyes hooded. “You know, in the Alliance Fleet, we get taught to think about what Black Jack would do in any situation. But when he ended up in command at Prime, he did something none of the rest of us had thought of while we were trying to think like we thought he would.”

  “What does that have to do with this?” Aragon demanded.

  “He looked at the situation differently than we did and saw something we hadn’t. How can I look at this in a different way? Maybe…instead of focusing on trying to be in two places at once…what we need…is to get what we want at one place.” He leaned forward, reading the display. “What are these, um, logistics carriers at that logistics facility?”

  She bent to look. “Just dumb cargo haulers. Automated. Interplanetary capable, but not equipped for interstellar.”

  “Can they haul fuel cells?”

  Aragon reached to get that data. “Yeah. See?” She straightened, realizing what Geary was thinking. “You want to trick the Syndicate into sending the fuel cells we need to the labor camp?”

  “Would that happen?” Geary asked. “Would Syndic CEOs, like you’re going to pretend to be, order that logistics facility to send fuel cells to where they were going so they wouldn’t have to go out of their way to get them?”

  “In a heartbeat,” Aragon said, eyeing Geary with renewed respect. “It’s what we under the Syndicate would expect a CEO to do. So it’s believable. Even then, it's not guaranteed. The executive running that facility might balk, might say the fuel cells they have are earmarked for other units. Or the cargo haulers might not get to the labor camp quickly enough and be recalled when we attack. But this plan could work, get us what we both need.”

  “Hopefully,” Geary said, looking relieved but still worried. “For now, we can run with that idea. I need to get with my people on running inventories of everything aboard this ship. If there’s nothing else…”

  Aragon shook her head at the attempted dismissal. “There’s something else I need, Captain Michael Geary.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Fifty Alliance Marines.”

  He stared at her again, this time baffled. “I’ve only got forty-eight Marines among the former prisoners. Why the hell are you asking for them?”

  “I need those Marines to assist in the assault on the orbital labor camp.”

  “You…” Michael Geary paused. “Assist in the assault? Even though my Marines and your soldiers would love any excuse to kill each other?”

  “That’s right. There’s extra battle armor aboard this ship. We’ll provide your Marines with that, and teach them how Syndicate battle armor works. Full weapons loadout for every one of them as well. Your Marines are good at assaulting orbital facilities, aren’t they?”

  “Yes,” Michael Geary said, shaking his head, “but…your own soldiers aren’t enough? I assumed you’d use your entire unit.”

  She gazed at him, wondering if she could concoct a plausible-enough-sounding reason, and knowing that anything she told him could be checked by those Marines for validity. If Michael Geary learned she’d lied about her reasons, he would be far less like to believe any other explanation she offered, and far less likely to ever cough up those Marines. “I’ll be above the board with you on this, Captain Michael Geary. I need those Marines because I, and my subordinate executives, and my workers, do not trust you or the other Alliance officers and workers.”

  “That…makes no sense at all,” he replied. “If you don’t trust us, why do you want the Marines to be part of the attack?”

  “Because if your Marines assist in the attack, I can leave some of my workers on this unit to ensure you do not abandon us on that orbiting facility, leaving us there while you depart to try to reach your homes without having to take us to Anahuac.”

  Michael Geary’s face hardened. “I gave you my word of honor. That should be all the insurance you need.”

  “It’s not,” Aragon said flatly. “It’s not enough for my workers. They don’t believe in honor. They believe in self-interest. And they know what the Alliance is capable of. We’ve seen the worlds your fleet has bombarded.”

  “And I’ve seen worlds the Syndics have bombarded!” Michael Geary shot back, standing to face her. “Why should I entrust you with the lives of forty-eight Alliance Marines who you might be planning on throwing away to minimize the risk to your own soldiers?”

  “I’ve kept my end of this deal so far! I was willing to renegotiate to arrange the operation against the labor camp!” Aragon said, leaning in toward him. “My people expect you to double-cross us! I need proof that you won’t!”

  “You need proof? And what do I get in return? What do you offer me in exchange for this?” He had leaned in, too, his angry face close to hers. Too close.

  Aragon stepped back, her temper flaring, one hand going to the sidearm holstered at her hip. “That had better not mean what it sounds like.”

  Puzzlement appeared on his face along with his anger. “What are you talking about?”

  “Good judgment, Captain Geary,” she said, hearing the menace in her voice.

  He jerked with surprise. “You think I meant sex in exchange for the deal?” Still angry, Geary held up his hands in a disarming gesture. “That was not what I meant, not a proposition or a demand. I don’t play those kinds of games.”

  “You don’t?” Aragon said, her voice challenging now. “You’re a man.”

  He nodded. “Yeah. A man whose sister would kick his butt out of an airlock if she learned he’d tried to force a woman into a deal like that.”

  Aragon let her hand drift away from her sidearm. “Your sister is still alive? Lucky you.”

  “She was the last I heard,” Michael Geary said.

  “And you’re afraid of her?”

  “No,” he said, his face still hard with anger. “I love her. She’s all I’ve got, the last other surviving Geary.” Not true anymore, not with granduncle Black Jack back, but still how he thought of things. “I don’t want to do anything that would shame her. I don’t want to do anything that would leave her even more alone than she is now.”

  He seemed sincere. Could she believe him? “How would she ever know what happened on this ship? In that bed over there? Notice it’s big enough for two or three? That’s one way Syndicate CEOs and senior executives get their payoffs.”

  He stared at the bed, then away, his revulsion clear. Either Michael Geary was a great actor, or he meant what he was saying. “I don’t decide my actions, good or bad, based on whether or not anyone else will ever know what I did. I’ll know. My ancestors will know. That’s all there is to it.”

  “All right.” She tried to relax and center her thoughts again. Either she believed him, and moved on, or they’d be locked in a stalemate. “If you didn’t mean you wanted sexual favors from me in exchange for the agreement, what did you mean? Because I don’t want any doubt what happens if you do demand that.”

  He looked steadily at her, his gaze unwavering. “I’m looking for some reason to agree to this. A professional reason consistent with my responsibilities to those under my command. Give me one. Why should I risk those Marines because you don’t trust me?”

  He’d thrown it back on her, which if she was honest was more than fair. What reason did she have beyond her own workers’ distrust of the Alliance?

  Distrust that ran both ways. Fate had given her the answer to this problem in the form of the other problem.

  Aragon smiled slightly. “Your workers don’t trust me, or my workers.”

  “No, they don’t,” Michael Geary admitted.

  “If this plan goes as we hope, the fuel cells this ship needs, the fuel cells you need to get back to the Alliance, will be docked at that labor camp. Which means if we capture the camp, we’ll control the fuel cells you have to have.”

  He watched her, nodding slowly. “Which would give you tremendous leverage over us. But if Alliance Marines are part of the assault force, they can secure the fuel cells once the garrison is defeated.”

  “While my workers focus on recovering our comrades.” He was hesitating. She gestured aft. “Your Marines. I’ve been keeping an eye on them, and getting reports on them. They’re…”

  “Ready to explode,” Michael Geary said. “I know. They’ve got a lot of built-up frustration and anger.”

  “Anger at the Syndicate,” Aragon said.

  He nodded again. “If I ask for volunteers to assault a Syndic base, they’ll probably all jump at the chance. But how do I convince them to work with you? To participate alongside your soldiers? Under your combat command?”

  Aragon shrugged. “I’m told that Alliance Marines will move mountains for beer.”

  “There’s beer aboard this ship?” Michael Geary looked alarmed at the idea that his workers might get their hands on alcohol.

  She understood that concern. “No. Not on the ship. But there will be at the labor camp. For the guards.”

  “Alliance Marines do have some standards, even when it comes to free beer,” Geary said. “But a chance at free beer and the opportunity to kill Syndics might be the motivation we need.”

  Aragon smiled again. “You can also tell them the truth. That your Marines will be there to ensure we do not betray you.”

  He sat for a long moment before looking at her again. “Okay. Everything about this sucks, but we have to embrace that suck and make it work. This should work. I did think of something else. Is there any chance of Alliance prisoners at that labor camp?”