The Black Hawk, Standard Year 403 after founding

  Alanna opened her eyes, staring at a gray metal ceiling. Careful not to move her head, she cast her eyes to her left. A flat metal wall looked back at her. She just knew moving her head would be a mistake. She carefully turned her eyes to the right. Bars. Of course. Tundrans did prison the old fashioned way. Stun rounds. The bastards loaded their drones with stun rounds. “Bloody hell.” She muttered under her breath.

  “Lieutenant?” A painfully cheerful voice came from her right. “Would you like some coffee?”

  Coffee? Was that a possibility? It had been years since she’d had coffee. She tried to form the words “yes please” but it came out as something more like a “yesh”. Stun round paralysis. The day just got better and better. She had been stunned a few times in basic training and knew that sooner or later, she would need to lift her head up in order to get vertical. It was excruciating and unavoidable. Alanna gritted her teeth and began the slow, painful process of dragging herself up. A minute or two later, she was leaning very carefully against her new best friend, the metal wall behind her prison bunk. Other than the splitting headache, she appeared to be in perfect health. Her heroic attempt to bow out gracefully had been an abysmal failure. These bastards really needed to be less efficient.

  “Here you go. Is it ok that I added milk?”

  “Um.” Alanna stared at the cup in her hand. The liquid was unsealed and exposed to the air. In her world, that meant risk of vibrio angerona poisoning resulting in a painful and exceptionally unpleasant death. On the other hand, the smell of coffee and hot milk hit her nose and she decided she didn’t care. It was, quite possibly, the best thing she had ever smelled in her entire life. “This is amashing. Thank you.” She touched her lips, noting they were still partially numb. The stun round must have hit her in the face.

  “My name is Clara. If you need anything else, just ask.” Clara was a tall, muscular woman with an open, friendly face, bright blue eyes, and an easy smile.

  Alanna risked another thank you, pleased that it came out relatively clearly. She sat and drank her coffee. It was the world’s most incredible coffee. Who the hell got this kind of coffee on a spaceship?

  “The captain ships it in special. The coffee.”

  Alanna started nodding but stopped just before disaster struck. Moving was a mistake, unless it was for the purpose of drinking the amazing coffee. About halfway through her cup, she managed to form another sentence. “That explains why the captain geths good coffee. Why am I getting good coffee?”

  Clara smiled. “You’re the reason no one died.”

  No nodding, Alanna reminded herself. She tried blinking in acknowledgement.

  “Once you’re feeling better, we have approval for you to use the shower facilities. I have some clean clothes as well. Just let me know when you’re ready.”

  “I’m good.” Alanna responded firmly. “No need for a shower.”

  ---

  Primary objective: take control of D12. Secondary objective: take D12 intact. No one was dead. No one had so much as twisted an ankle. Mission success, damn near off the charts. The hostage negotiations had been initiated and the Sarayans had provided their response overnight. Unsurprisingly, they agreed to the generous ten to one prisoner exchange. The short list of Tundran hostages to be sent home had been provided to central command. Four more Tundrans were going home to their families. The Sarayans’ response regarding Lieutenant Alanna Summers had been short and to the point. No trade would be offered. She was fully and permanently remanded into the custody of the Tundran military. Mission status: incomplete. One loose end. Captain James Hawk finished his morning reports and went to check on the loose end.

  “No need for a shower.” He heard her voice as he approached the cell. Any hope of the loose end being cooperative quickly evaporated. Lieutenant Summers started as he entered her field of vision, her striking green eyes following him. She was leaning her head against the wall behind her bunk as if it were her very best friend in the world. Having experienced a few stun rounds himself, he walked into her field of vision, rather than waiting for her to turn her head.

  “It’s not the right strategy here.” He said mildly. “Not showering.” He gestured at her lackluster appearance. “Hiding. It won’t work. Maybe it worked with the miners, but this isn’t the right audience for that. Clara, I need her presentable.”

  “Yes, Captain.” Clara responded without hesitation.

  The metal cot took up most of the cell, with metal walls flanking it on three sides. On the fourth side was about two feet of open space and metal bars, placing Captain James Hawk less than three feet away from her. She had to angle her head up to see his face. His ice gray eyes looked back at her, inscrutable. Lieutenant Summers was about to get strategy advice from the captain of the Black Hawk. “Why is it a bad strategy?” She asked.

  “You’ll still get noticed. This just makes you less valuable.” He said simply. “Why did you reach for your gun?”

  “With such a bright future ahead of me, what was I thinking?” Alanna responded sarcastically.

  “I don’t know, what were you thinking?”

  “Mostly that I wanted to avoid this.”

  “Do you, by any chance, recall the instruction to evacuate, unarmed?”

  “I wasn’t planning to enter your ship with that gun and you damn well know it!”

  “I don’t know you.”

  “Oh, come on! Seriously?” She winced, realizing she had unintentionally jerked her head when she responded.

  “What were you planning to do with the gun?”

  “Well I had planned on shooting myself in the heart. Which by the way is a damn messy way to go if you screw it up. Getting the angle right was going to be tricky. Again, the plan” she gritted her teeth “was to avoid this.”

  “Were you planning on shooting any of my people?”

  Alanna jerked her head again and immediately regretted it. “If I planned on shooting your people, I wouldn’t have surrendered. Or at least I would have made sure I wasn’t the only one armed, with literally every civilian on D12 standing between me and your crew. I mean for god’s sake, I’m not that incompetent. And you’re actually managing to make these questions” she winced “exceedingly painful.”

  “Do forgive me. Am I not perfectly fulfilling my end of our agreement?”

  Alanna opened her mouth. Paused. “I see what you did there.” Was it her imagination or did the corner of his mouth just very slightly twitch, as if he were stifling a laugh. Did captain James Hawk have a sense of humor? “Captain” she tried, “have you ever considered the value of good faith initiative?”

  All potential traces of humor dissipated. “No more initiative, lieutenant.”

  “Yes, sir.” Alanna responded automatically.

  “I can see the vague memory of military discipline is returning to you. Very good. Clara, let’s aim for presentable, please.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  ---

  James walked back to his office to find Henry waiting. “You have the reports?”

  “I do, both recorded and in summary form. Want the verbal rundown?”

  James poured himself a second cup of coffee. “Sure, let’s hear it.”

  “To the question of why did you choose Lieutenant Summers as your leader, it’s a fairly consistent mix of ‘she’s competent’, ‘she has our back’, and a good sprinkling of ‘captain Mace is a goddamn moron’. There’s also a story from someone named Loel, who apparently owes her his life after she took the blame for a damaged gun turret. He cut the turret with” Henry looked at his notes “a stray diamond shard that took off during drilling.”

  “So it’s competence rather than a cult of personality scenario. I was already getting that impression after meeting the lovely lieutenant.” James said drily.

  “Did it have to be one or the other?”

  “For a unanimous mutiny? That, or a very effective form of mind control.”

  Henry nodded in acknowledgement. “To the question of why did Lieutenant Summers surrender, it was a fairly unanimous ‘to save our lives.’ To the question of what were her relations with other crew members, including friends, enemies, or lovers” Henry paused “this was not a popular question. There were twenty eight references to something along the lines of ‘you Tundran scum’, and twenty four people refused to answer,” he paused again “I think there was some overlap between those two groups.”

  “For the all time winners that called us Tundran scum and then refused to answer.”

  “Apparently so.”

  James raised an eyebrow. “Touchy subject.”

  “To the question of why did Lieutenant Summers negotiate a ten to one prisoner exchange when there were forty one people on the station, we have” he checked his notes “twenty eight ‘I don’t knows’, a handful of ‘none of your business’, with Tundran scum references sprinkled in across the board. The handful of substantive responses boil down to ‘she knew the Sarayans would not trade for her.’ ”

  “The lieutenant proposed her terms before the transmission went out and the miners are unlikely to know the substance of what was sent.” James noted curiously. “I wonder why they are all so sure there would be no trade. Do we know?”

  “No. But it doesn’t matter, does it? We can’t send her back after the transmission.”

  “No.” James agreed. “Sending her back is no longer an option. And the last question?”

  “To the question of why did Lieutenant Summers pull out her gun, it’s also unanimous.”

  “Suicide?”

  “Yes. There’s also a ‘to save Captain Hawk the headache’, if that helps.”

  “I think you left out the Tundran scum references.” James said, amused.

  “Yes, copious references to Tundran scum on this one as well.” Henry paused.

  “There’s more?”

  “There is. You saw the schematics for the explosives?”

  “I did.” James nodded in acknowledgement. “They mined the station. Rather effectively, I thought.”

  “Well, there’s more. They called it Operation Cherry Pie.”

  James raised an eyebrow. “Classified?” He asked.

  “Not formally. And they were all more than willing to talk about it. At length.”

  “And what is Operation Cherry Pie?” James asked as he opened the relevant files on his computer.

  “It’s their defense strategy for the station. You can’t really call it classified military information. They’re all civilians and step one was locking up their Captain.” Henry paused, a slight grin crossing his face.

  James frowned, his focus intensifying. “She trained the civilians.”

  “She did. And James, I think she trained them well. They ran drills. Lots of drills, multiple scenarios. They couldn’t wait to tell us. They were proud.”

  “How long have they been training?”

  “About two years.” Henry responded with a wince. “There wasn’t a whole lot to do. So, they trained.”

  “Weapons?”

  “Yes. They never received the support of military personnel, but they had guns. Most would have been armed. And from what I heard, better trained than some of the Sarayan troops we’ve gone up against.”

  James leaned back in his chair. “Some of ours, some of theirs.” He said softly.

  “All of theirs.” Henry reminded him.

  “That was what I said, wasn’t it? But no.” James said with a slight smile. “It would not have been all of theirs.”

  “James.” Henry shook his head with a laugh. “Really?”

  “We can’t afford to waste valuable resources, Henry.”

  “Your objectivity never ceases to amaze.”

  James shrugged, looking out the viewport past Henry’s shoulder. “She said ‘I want to speak to the captain of the Black Hawk.’ ”

  “She knew who we were.” Henry agreed.

  James nodded. “She surrendered to us, most likely because she knew we sent the Avalon Station crew home to Saraya. If it had been someone else…” James leaned back in his chair. “And when she chose to surrender, in contradiction of years of planning and preparation, they all fell in line. Did anyone blame her for the decision?”

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  “No. At least, not that they voiced to us. I think they just wanted us to know they could have fought.”

  “Wanted us to know how big of a prize she gave up.”

  “Yes.” Henry agreed.

  “They are, of course, entirely correct.” James sighed, releasing his breath slowly. Up until that moment, he had not fully realized just how close he had come to disaster on this mission. Of course he planned for resistance. He always planned for the worst-case scenario. But the scale and competence of what had been planned on D12 was unexpected in the extreme. He winced slightly, imagining how he would explain why Captain James Hawk struggled to take a station with forty civilians and a grand total of two military officers. To explain why some of his people had been lost.

  “We can’t send her back, James. She’ll be charged with treason.” Henry spoke into the silence. “And the crew won’t like it.” He added.

  “As it happens, we’re not being given the option.”

  “The Sarayans are leaving her?” Henry asked with surprise.

  “They are.”

  “Saves them the cost of a trial, I suppose. Can you fix it?”

  James smiled slightly. “I can always fix it.” He said. “Please send in Tom.”

  “Yes, Captain.” Henry saluted with enthusiasm before walking out of the office.

  James watched his friend walk out, his steps somewhat lighter than they had been when he came in. Lieutenant Summers had handed him another great victory, with minimal effort on his part. He still felt disbalanced by the development, the unspent adrenaline that came with preparation for battle pumping through his system, leaving him restless. And beyond all that, far beyond the diamond drills of D12 and the four Tundran prisoners that would be on their way home, the Sarayan lieutenant may have handed him the answer to a problem that could shift the balance of power across their solar system. He took a quiet breath, preparing himself for the next step.

  ----

  Tom gave a slight nod as he walked into Captain Hawk’s office, and glanced around. It was a relatively small, spare room by Sarayan standards. A single desk made of molded metal, immovable and appearing virtually indestructible, stood in the center of the space. The captain’s chair was the same as the two guest chairs facing the desk, all molded metal but relatively deep and comfortable. The gray metal glinted dully, reflecting the silver Captain’s stripes on the Tundran navy. Tom settled into one of the two chairs, his back to the door. He heard the quiet click of the lock as the officer who escorted him closed the door behind him, locking him in the room with the captain. Tom looked down at his uncuffed hands awkwardly before looking up at the man across from him, noting his perfectly pressed black uniform and the cold, intelligent gray eyes studying him with surprising intensity. Unsure of what to say next and without guidance from anyone he trusted, Tom remained silent.

  “Good morning.” James nodded back politely, watching Tom closely. The man looked like he hadn’t slept, his dark eyes shadowed and filled with suspicion as he looked back over at James. There was suspicion in the man’s gaze, but not quite open hostility. “I hope you and your crew have been made comfortable.” James said into the silence.

  “We’re fine. Where’s Alanna? Why are you keeping her separately?”

  James spread his hands. “Alanna is a military officer who drew her weapon in the course of what was supposed to be a peaceful surrender.”

  “That isn’t fair! You bloody scum know why she did it. Everyone told you why. She meant no one but herself any harm.”

  “To your safe journey home.” James quoted, ignoring the insults.

  “What?” Tom paused for a moment before the phrase came back to him. “Yeah, that’s what she said. So what?”

  “Yours. Why not ours?” James asked. “Why was the lieutenant so sure she wasn’t coming home with the rest of you?”

  Tom shrugged. “They were never going to trade for her, were they?” He said, bitterness suffusing his voice. “If the station fell, she was there to take the blame. No way around that. Where is she? What…” he swallowed, visibly nervous, “what are you gonna do with her?”

  James studied the man across from him thoughtfully. “Are you two… close?” He asked.

  “Not the way you mean. Not that it’s any of your damn business.” Tom crossed his arms over his newly gaunt chest. “I’m not answering any more questions until you tell me what you’ve done with her.” He said firmly.

  James nodded in acknowledgement. “Lieutenant Summers is in a cell aboard the Black Hawk. In accordance with the terms she negotiated, she has not been harmed.”

  “They the nice cells, or the kind where you can’t make it for longer than a week?” Tom asked grimly.

  “We’re a small ship with limited space. They’re the cells we use for our own.”

  “That doesn’t tell me as much as you think.” He shifted in his chair. “Can I see her?”

  “Yes. I’ll make sure it’s arranged.”

  Tom breathed a small sigh of relief. He would have preferred to see Alanna now, but he knew better than to push his luck. And at least if he saw her later, he would know she was still alive, later. In the meantime, they would have good reason to treat her better… maybe. If they cared. He looked over at the impassive military officer across from him. They were alone together in the room, Tom’s hands as free and uncuffed as the Captain’s. No one seemed worried. “You’ve been good to the rest of us.” He admitted.

  The rest of the D12 crew were being housed in the Black Hawk’s docking bay, likely the only space on the ship big enough for their group. They were being provided with their own rations and more water than they ever had back on the station. Tom even noticed that the temperature in the docking bay was higher than what he’d felt on the rest of the ship, perhaps due to the number of people but still good for making the Sarayans more comfortable on the frigid Tundran ship. “You know I want Alanna safe.” He said out loud. “What do you want from me?”

  “Information.” James responded readily.

  “Fine. Just ask.”

  “Why is everyone so certain Lieutenant Summers will get the blame?”

  Tom shrugged. “She’s just the type.”

  “What type?”

  “The type that gets the blame. No family, no connections. The type that does her job, keeps out of politics, looks after her people. Trust me, on Saraya, that’s the type that gets the blame.”

  James nodded. “What I’m hearing, is that even under the best of circumstances, the lieutenant would have been in danger upon her return.”

  Tom looked very much as if he had swallowed something that didn’t agree with him. His breath shortened slightly, the tension and stress evident in every line of his body. “Are you thinking of sending her back?” He asked.

  “Should I be?” James countered. “Acting in good faith and in the lieutenant’s best interests, should I consider sending her back?”

  Tom gritted his teeth, fury warring with frustration on his face. “You’ll have to ask her.” He said finally. “That one’s above my paygrade.”

  James nodded, shifting gears. “Do you know the contents of the message sent by Captain Mace prior to his… unfortunate demise?”

  “No.” Tom said flatly.

  “Would you care to venture a guess?” James asked, somewhat gently.

  Tom’s mouth tightened, his stress level going up another dangerous notch. But when he spoke, his voice remained controlled. “What do you want from me?” He repeated. “You know they’ll kill her if you send her back, don’t you? Of course you do.” He said in response to the nod of acknowledgement James provided. “So, what the hell do you want from me?”

  “All right, Tom. I’ll give you some free information. We decoded the message sent out by Captain Mace. I can confirm that we were not able to jam it effectively and the message did go out. The message was ‘Lt Summers traitor. Station lost.’ ”

  “Are you going to help her?” Tom asked, searching the face of the man across from him. Hope wasn’t coming to him easily these days, but he desperately wanted a reason, any reason, to hope. And he was willing to accept it from even the oddest of places.

  “I am.” James said, his eyes meeting Tom’s without hesitation. “If you have any suggestions, anything you know that might help, now is the time to tell me.”

  Tom laughed, the bitterness in his voice sharp enough to cut. “You come to me for ideas? Well then you’re just about screwed, aren’t you? Give her back her gun. That’s my idea. She knew what she was doing. Let her go her own way, with some dignity. Don’t keep her here. It’s not right. You know it’s not right, Captain. We both know it.”

  “You’re that sure?” James pressed, very carefully. “That sure Saraya will not protect her?”

  Tom laughed again, louder this time. “Captain, you’re just messing with me now. If that message really went out? They’ll kill her and they won’t even be fast about it. You get what I’m saying to you?”

  James nodded. “That has been my impression as well, but I always value a second opinion.”

  “Will you do it? Give her the gun?” Tom asked, leaning forward.

  “No.” James frowned in genuine distaste, seeing no reason to mask his views on the matter. “That will not happen.” He held out his hands. “You’ve made your point. You and your people. You all wanted us to know the prize she handed us.” He let his eyes meet Tom’s. “I heard you. I know. Lieutenant Summers didn’t just save her own people. If we fought, some of my own would have died. I know what I owe her and I know what I promised. She deserves better than death. I can deliver.”

  “Am I going to see it?” Tom asked dubiously. “Or am I to take your word for it?

  James smiled. “You’ll see the start of it.” He said. “Before you leave the station.” He got up, holding out his hand to Tom. “Pleasure meeting you, Tom. Thank you for the information you have provided.”

  “Did I?” Tom asked, genuine puzzlement on his face. “And that’s it? We’re done?”

  “Was there something more you wanted to tell me? Or to ask?” James asked politely.

  “No, I guess not.” Tom hesitated. Then with a shrug, he got up and walked back out of the Tundran captain’s office. Just for an instant before opening the door, he paused and turned back around. “She deserved better, you know? We’re not that different. Tundrans and Sarayans. A good person’s a good person.”

  “I know.” James said, watching him walk out the door. Henry would be there to escort him back to join the other D12 personnel. Quietly, he got up and locked the door to his office. As usual, Tundrans went in for the old fashioned hardware and there was something oddly satisfying about hearing the lock fall into place, a physical representation of his separation from the rest of the world. He leaned back in his chair and stared out the view of the stars beyond. The seed had been planted. Only time would tell if it took root. Time, and the Tundran Secret Service.

  James activated his wrist comm. “Henry?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Make sure we put a tracker on Tom Fiel’s belongings.”

  “On it.” Henry responded shortly.

  ---

  Later that day, Lieutenant Alanna Summers walked into his quarters, looking a great deal better than presentable. Her hair had gone from a lackluster brown verging on gray from brittleness and lack of moisture to a gleaming curtain of brown. Her skin had undergone a similar transformation. The now familiar, striking green eyes were exactly the same. At his request, Clara had managed to scrounge up civilian clothing, and the lieutenant now wore gray slacks and a black sweater instead of the faded green uniform of the Sarayan navy. Clara always got the job done.

  She sat in the chair across from him, looking down at the second plate of food on the table. Real, actual food. “That’s not POW rations.” She said flatly. Her back was pressed against the chair in the same way she had pressed it against the wall in her cell.

  “It seemed rude to eat alone.” James reached over the table, pouring her a cup of freshly brewed tea to go with the meal. “You’re welcome to abstain on principle and eat ration bars if you’d like.” His lips turned up slightly. “But it won’t change anything that happens here tonight. You may as well enjoy the food.”

  The look in her green eyes was distinctly unfriendly, but she reached out for her fork and started eating.

  “Is there anything else you need?” He asked politely. “Sugar?”

  “A gun would be nice. With a killing round.”

  James leaned back, his eyes laughing. The spark of humor she thought she had seen before was on full display now. “Would you like two rounds, or just the one?”

  “I’d settle for the one.”

  “You are too kind.” He studied her from across the small table.

  Alanna ate a few bites of the food without enthusiasm and sat back in her chair, watching him carefully.

  “How long have you been suicidal, Alanna?”

  “I’m not suicidal.”

  “Forgive me.” He said drily. “It must be the cultural differences.”

  “I’m not suicidal. I just like to have an exit strategy.”

  “From life?”

  “What would you have done in my place?”

  “I’m not in your place. I don’t have the facts that led you to the decisions you made. Why did you decide to surrender?”

  Alanna shrugged. “I wasn’t sure I would, until the very end. The thing is…” She looked down at her plate “Tom is having a baby.”

  James raised an eyebrow. “On D12? I don’t think she would carry to term in those conditions.”

  “No, apparently his ‘old lady’ chose him as the donor, in absentia. He says it’s true love.”

  “Well.” James considered. “Perhaps it is, if she’s telling the truth rather than lying to get his money.”

  “I just thought, it’s not worth all their lives. There were forty civilians on that station. I trained them to fight because I assumed whoever came would kill them. When I saw the black ship…” she shrugged, studying him. “You have a reputation for not killing people. That’s all. There’s no conspiracy or ulterior motive here. I don’t have any secrets.” She looked at him, suddenly feeling very tired. “Is there more?”

  James reached over to refill her cup with tea. “The Sarayans responded this morning. They will not trade for you. You are to remain permanently within our custody.”

  Alanna nodded, her acceptance immediate and unquestioning. Clearly, she had not expected anything else. “What did the message say?” She asked, mildly curious. “The one Captain Mace sent out.”

  “The message was ‘Lt Summers Traitor. Station lost.’ ”

  Alanna nodded. “How uncharacteristically succinct of him. I’m tired. Just tell me what you want. Why am I here?”

  “You haven’t finished your food.”

  “I’m not hungry.”

  He opened his mouth to point out that she was starved. Closed it. He was stalling. They may as well get on with it. “You disobeyed my order.”

  Alanna started. She had expected something bad to happen here, but this wasn’t it. This was worse. “That was not my intent.” She said carefully.

  “Perhaps. But it was what you did. You moved to draw a weapon during the evacuation. You knew this would violate the terms of our agreement.”

  “I… that was not my intent.” She repeated, not knowing what else to say. “Are you going to renege on your side of the agreement? Because of that? It’s not…” Alanna looked down at her hands, realized they were shaking. Very carefully, she placed her hands in her lap. “This is not acting in good faith. You know why I drew the gun. I did not intend to harm your people.” She looked up, searching his eyes. Had she truly made that big of a mistake? This could all end with her freezing to death in a Tundran prison, knowing she got her people killed for nothing. Perhaps it was likely to end that way.

  “I will not renege on my side of the agreement, on two conditions.” His eyes were unreadable. He reached out and carefully placed her personal computer on the table. “Unlock it.”

  Alanna looked from him to the computer. “What is the second condition?”

  “Let me be very clear. This is not a negotiation. This is an order. Unlock the computer.”

  They sat in silence, staring at each other across the table. Whatever he was going to ask her to do next, it would be worse. She knew it would be worse. “How do I know you will keep your word?” Alanna asked.

  “You don’t. You never did. All you can do is hope you got it right.” Ice cold gray eyes looked back at her, as inscrutable as ever.

  Alanna stared at the computer. There was no classified military information on it, other than the plans for cherry pie. Which technically, wasn’t a military operation at all. “What if I say no?”

  “That would be unwise.”

  “Because everyone breaks.” Alanna said flatly. The civilized portion of the evening had clearly drawn to a close. The unspoken truth hung between them. If she breached the terms of their agreement, she would lose the protection that was offered, for whatever it was worth.

  “Yes.” He responded simply. He waited. It wasn’t long.

  Alanna reached out and unlocked her computer. “The second thing?”

  James reached for his own personal computer and placed it on the table in front of her. A message stared back from the screen. It began “I, Lieutenant Alanna Summers”

  Her face paled visibly. “No. I’m not doing this.”

  “You are doing this.” He said quietly. “Please don’t make it any more difficult.”

  “No. This is too much to ask.” She pushed the computer away. “I’m not doing this.”

  “This is a direct order. I don’t believe any classified military information is involved.”

  “No.” She repeatedly flatly. “You are not acting in good faith if you ask me to do this. If your word cannot be trusted, none of this is worth a damn. I am not looking at the camera in my presentable condition and reading this. If I break, it will not be like this. No.”

  “Now you rediscover your loyalty to Saraya? Many would call what you did treason. Your captain called it exactly that, while leaking military secrets to the enemy out of petty spite. Saraya renounced you. They are done with you, Alanna. Protect your people and move on. They’re just words.”

  “If you kill my people over this, you will kill them regardless. Why? Why are you asking this? What does it get you?”

  “It doesn’t matter why. This is the job.”

  “They’re forty civilians. They cooperated with you. They did nothing! What happens to them without my protection?”

  James sighed. “Alanna. I am asking you to cooperate. Please.”

  She stared at him, her eyes burning with rage. There was no screaming, no crying, just pure, unadulterated rage. She leaned forward, her eyes locked on his. “You brought nukes to the party, didn’t you, Captain?”

  “I did.”

  “You were always going to get your way.”

  “I was.”

  She nodded, leaning back. “Just get it over with then. Release the nukes.”

  “I will keep my word, Alanna. All I ask is that you keep yours.”

  “And if I don’t?”

  “I will torture your people one by one until I have your cooperation.” He pushed the computer towards her “although this is something I would very much like to avoid. They are just words.”

  “These words are everything.”

  He held out his hands. “I know. I understand.”

  She took a deep breath. “I’m going to need a minute. To gather my enthusiasm.” She paused. “Wait.”

  “Alanna.” James said warningly. “Just get it over with. Please don’t make me go over your options with you again.”

  “I understand my options. I want you to delete the record of Captain Mace’s murder.”

  James stared at her. “Are you negotiating with me right now?”

  “As long as we’re all here.”

  “For whatever it is worth to you, I give you my word this will be done.”

  “And securely deleted, you know you have to overwrite the…”

  “We know how to delete data. Stop stalling.”

  Alanna poured herself another cup of tea, staring into the murky depths, briefly considering the oddity of open cups exposing liquid to the air. She drained the cup. “Turn on the camera.” She looked into the camera, thinking of all the stupid mistakes that led her to this point in her life. “I, Lieutenant Alanna Summers, renounce my loyalty to Saraya. I renounce my oath to the Sarayan navy, to protect the planet and her people. I renounce my citizenship and the protections it affords and declare my loyalty and commitment to the Tundran people.” She pushed away his computer, smashing it into one of the plates on the table. “I am done. Get me out of here.”