The young Lance Corporal entered the barracks room where Genvass and the others were discussing plans. Rúna looked up and pointed him to a nearby bunk. “Arthur, what have you got for us?” she challenged him.

“I’ve been talking with one of the guards,” he informed her, “and you were right. A lot of them aren’t happy about this assignment.”

“I figured as much,” she nodded. “Nobody enjoys getting stuck with prisoner detail.”

“Does that help us?” the ambassador asked her.

“Depends on how their NCOs and officers are handling the situation,” Rúna explained. “If you take care of your people and keep them motivated, they’ll do their job. They’ll still bitch about it, of course, but they’ll do it.”

“Did the guard say anything about that?” Genvass inquired.

“They’re being kind of cagey about it,” Arthur admitted. “Complaining to a fellow Valkyrie about a shit detail is one thing, bad-mouthing their chain of command to a prisoner is something else entirely.”

“What’s your gut tell you?” his commander pressed him.

Arthur thought about it for a moment. “I get the impression the NCOs are trying to keep things running smoothly, but they’re getting a lot of orders from above they don’t like,” he decided. “That’s just a guess, but they said something about ‘the new officers’. Not a hundred percent sure what that means, though,” he shrugged.

“Interesting,” Rúna mused. “Makes sense you’d want officers loyal to you at the top.”

“You mentioned doing guard duty yourself, many times,’’ Genvass said to the Valkyrie commander. “Did any of those assignments involve Terrans?”

“Not like this,” she told him, shaking her head. “Had a few D&D’s…”

“... a few what?” he interrupted.

“Oh… sorry… ‘Drunk and Disorderly’,” she clarified. “Had one guy they caught stealing, a few assault cases, petty stuff, mostly. Sure as hell never guarded Terran political prisoners.”

“If you were still a sergeant,” Remi interjected, speaking up for the first time since Arthur had entered the room, “and you were stuck on this assignment, how would you react?” he put to her.

“Huh.” She cocked her head, considering that. “I think I’d be frustrated,” she decided. “I don’t know what they’ve told these guys, but it can’t be the truth about what’s really going on. Which means they’re getting a cover story, probably the same one they’re feeding everyone else.”

“Alien sympathizers,” Genvass grimaced.

“Yeah, that one,” she agreed. “And it might hold for a while until you actually talk to the prisoners you’re guarding. It wouldn’t take long for them to realize the cover story is bullshit.”

“Why not forbid them from speaking to the prisoners?” the ambassador suggested… only to stare befuddled as the others all started laughing. “Did I say something funny?” he asked them when the chuckling finally died down.

“Surest way to make somebody do something? Order them not to,” Taneka snickered.

“Besides, you have to talk to them at some point,” Rúna continued. “When you line them up for chow, when they get too close to the fence, sick call, passing on instructions…. there’s no way to run a camp like this and avoid communicating with the prisoners. I’m sure they’re doing what they can to discourage idle chitchat, but you can’t stop it.”

“Okay, I can see that,” he said after a moment. “So why would that frustrate you?”

“Bad things happen when your chain of command starts lying to you,” she illustrated. “At first, the NCOs would stick to what they know, keeping the troops motivated and in line. But with new officers, an obviously bogus mission… or at least, the justification behind it… with orders that deviate this far out of the norm? Orders that fly in the face of everything we’re supposed to stand for?” She shook her head. “Eventually, something’s got to give.”

“Which means?” Genvass prompted, encouraging her to continue.

“When they hear the troops are unhappy with their orders, the officers’ first response will be to crack down,” the Valkyrie predicted. “Punish anyone who steps out of line and make an example of them for the others. And it’ll work for a while, but the longer this goes on, eventually, it won’t be enough to keep the troops from demanding answers. Answers that, I suspect, the brass aren’t willing to share.”

“And if they keep stonewalling them?” Remi queried her. “Keep the pressure on?”

“Then eventually the troops will hit their breaking point,” she said grimly, “and when that happens, all bets are off.”

“Wouldn’t that be good for us?” Taneka suggested. “If they go after their officers, won’t they see us as their allies?”

Rúna just shook her head. “When a unit fractures like that, they’re not in a rational state of mind,” she said ominously. “Sure, they might go after the officers, who I’m almost positive will haul ass the second they do. But there’s an equally good chance they’ll take their frustrations out on us instead. Picture a full-blown riot, with assault rifles and machine guns, shooting anything that moves. They’ll take plenty of friendly fire casualties while they’re at it, but by that point, they won’t care. They’ll be too far gone. Probably burn this place to the ground while they’re at it.”

Genvass shuddered at the image. “You make them sound like the Troika,” he objected. “They’re still Terrans, like us. That has to count for something.”

She gave him a penetrating look. “You’ve read Terran history. We’ve done some pretty fucked up shit to each other over the years. Oh sure, afterward the survivors will have plenty of guilt and remorse to deal with, though that won’t do us any good. We’ll already be dead.”

“Then how do we stop it?” Taneka asked quietly. “How do we prevent that from happening?”

“We keep doing what we’ve been doing,” Rúna informed them. “Keep engaging the guards one-on-one, and get them to see us as people, not targets. Lend a sympathetic ear when they bitch about the job, while not pointing out it’s worse on this side of the fence. Also, we should get the Grand Master involved. There’s always a few troops who have a medical problem they’d like to keep on the down low. Him helping out like that, no questions asked, will earn us some goodwill.”

“I’ll speak to him,” Genvass assured her, before turning his attention to Remi. “Any luck getting a message out?” he inquired, switching topics.

“Not yet,” he shrugged. “The guards are still too twitchy to take that kind of risk. And we still haven’t figured out who we should contact.”

“Are there any of your fellow Corsairs you can rely on?” the ambassador asked him.

Remi sighed, leaning back against the wall. “Other than Aynur here,” he said, nodding toward Taneka, “most of the clan I know well enough to approach are either too close to the Admiral, which means they can’t be trusted, or their felonious tendencies run even deeper than mine do… which means they can’t be trusted.”

“No honor among thieves?” Rúna said snidely.

“Shut up,” he fired back. “I don’t see you tossing out names.”

“That’s because the people I trust are currently sharing a cell with me, or they’re dead,” she snarled as Remi bristled in return.

“Please, this isn’t helping,” Genvass interrupted, attempting to calm things down. “We can’t afford to fight amongst ourselves. Not now, not when there’s so much at stake.”

The Corsair and the Valkyrie glared at one another before eventually backing off. “Thank you,” he continued. “Captain Taneka? Do you have anyone you can reach out to?”

“Same boat as Remi, I’m afraid,” she answered. “Us Corsairs spent the last two centuries surviving as pirates. You don’t shake that off overnight. Sure, we can cooperate for fleet actions, like we did at the last battle, but a lot of that was just us saving our own asses. Trying to find someone who’ll stick their neck out for a good cause, without some sort of payment?” She shook her head. “It’s not exactly in our clan’s DNA.”

“What about you, Ambassador?” Rúna suggested. “You must have made plenty of contacts before you became a diplomat. There has to be someone you can reach out to.”

“Very few of those individuals were from outside my clan,” he said quietly, “and given the anti-Dharmist sentiment we’re seeing, the ones who haven’t been arrested are most likely in hiding. Even if I knew how to track them down, exposing them is simply too great a risk.”

“He’s right,” Arthur said, catching the others off guard. “I was a Dharmist myself before I joined the Valkyries, don’t forget. I’ve been looking for news about my family… they’re not here, thank Terra… but folks clam up fast when I ask about anyone who’s avoided arrest. They’re scared, Ambassador,” he said anxiously. “I mean, we were never the most popular clan before all this, but now?” His eyes were wide with alarm. “The stories they’re telling are like something from the dark ages. Innocent folk being assaulted in the streets, mobs forming up and driving them out, people they thought were friends suddenly turning around and denouncing them to the government. As ugly as this place is, at least now they’re relatively safe. No one’s attacking them here.”

“Yet,” Genvass said quietly. “But as your commander has pointed out, that’s likely to change.”

Silence filled the room as they digested that until Taneka cleared her throat. “We have to take some risks,” she said finally, “or else we might as well just sit here and wait for them to shoot us.”

“... All right, there’s one person I can think of I’d be willing to take a chance on,” Rúna said at last. “My old CO, Captain Inaba. Best officer I ever served under. She might help us.”

“What are the downsides?” Remi demanded.

“She’s ambitious,” she admitted. “She’s no glory hound, but she’s had her eye on getting promoted for some time now. That might tip the scales against us.”

“But you trust her,” Genvass carefully probed.

“Yeah… I do,” she nodded. “She was always a straight shooter, even when shading the truth might have been the smarter play. And Terra knows she’s got the guts.”

“Could be one of the guards knows how to reach out to her,” Remi mused.

“Ma’am, what about Colonel Holme?” Arthur suggested. “I mean, he really held things together, even when it looked like we were about to get slaughtered.”

Rúna took a deep breath. “I thought about him,” she agreed, “and I have to believe he’s a good man. But he’s also a colonel,” she stressed, “and that puts him too close to the Commandant. We can’t risk it.”

“I think we’re all willing to defer to your judgment, Captain,” Genvass said, speaking for the others. A quick survey had them all nodding in agreement. “If you say it’s this Inaba, then that’s who we’ll try to contact.”

She rose to her feet. “I’ll brief my team,” she told them, “and we’ll report back when we know anything.”

The ambassador rose as well. “I just want to say good luck,” he said. “I know you’re taking a big gamble here, but I trust you. I always have.” He smiled, reaching out and squeezing her arm, earning him a brief smile in return.

“Thank you, Sir,” she husked as she was overcome with emotion, before she and Arthur exited the room.

“You did the right thing, coming here.”

Sariah Ntombi, Priestess of Terra, looked at the two women sitting in her study. “Ever since the government started their mass arrests and squelching any hint of dissension, I’ve been quietly putting out feelers to certain individuals. We’ve been sharing information, pooling our resources, doing what we can to ready ourselves for whatever’s coming.”

Blye leaned forward. “Then why didn’t you approach me?” she inquired. “Surely I’ve earned your trust.”

“You have,” the priestess smiled, “but you’re also blind, raising an infant on your own. I wanted to keep you out of this, for your own sake. You’ve been through enough.”

“She ain’t wrong,” Maggie chimed in. “I wouldn’t have come to ya, ‘cept I didn’t know nobody else I’d be willin’ to gamble on for this.”

“Damn it, I am not a cripple,” Blye snapped. “Don’t treat me like I’m some fragile glass figurine. I’m just as capable as I ever was.”

“No one is saying otherwise,” Sarah said delicately. “Ever since the Grand Master first introduced us, I’ve come to appreciate just how capable you are. But you’re also processing a great deal of trauma from your experiences on Taing’zem. I have concerns, Blye, about you throwing yourself back into the fire. I’m uncertain that you’re ready yet.”

“It doesn’t matter if I’m ready or not,” she answered. “It has to be done. People need our help. And if the price is my own mental health… then so be it.”

“Coming from a Knight, I anticipated that would be your response,” the priestess nodded. “After all, your own creed speaks directly to that ideal; ‘So Others May Live’. But what of your son?” she asked softly. “Who will look after him if you suffer a relapse?”

“... I will,” Maggie spoke up. “If it weren’t for Blye, I wouldn’t even have my boy. I’d likely have run off first chance I got.” She reached out and took the Knight’s hand. “Everythin’ I know ‘bout bein’ a parent, I learned it from her.”

“Thank you, Maggie,” she whispered, bowing her head.

The Tinker shrugged. “Only speakin’ the truth.”

The priestess smiled. “I see you have loyal friends,” she observed. “But then, knowing you as I do, I expected no less.” She gazed at the pair, deliberating over her decision, before finally sighing in resignation. “Very well then. We could certainly use your help. I’m afraid there aren’t very many of us, and given the circumstances, we have to proceed with caution.”

“But what about my boy?” Maggie demanded. “I ain’t leavin’ him to rot in some damn prison! Terra only knows what they’re doin’ to him.” She looked to Blye in panic, desperate for her support.

“As it happens, we know of this camp,” Sarah informed her. “When the Grand Master disappeared, we made it a priority to discover his whereabouts. Unfortunately, what information we have on the site is far from complete. We don’t dare get too close, or show too much interest, for fear of being compromised.”

“Well, now we’re gettin’ somewhere,” Maggie growled. “Where is it?”

“And just what could you possibly do with that information?” Blye challenged her. “Stage a one-woman breakout?”

“Why the hell not?” she fired back. “Been around long enough to pick up a few tricks,” she said in defiance.

“Maggie, think for a moment,” the Knight argued. “What you’re talking about requires planning, not to mention personnel and supplies. It’s going to take time to come up with something that has a chance of succeeding. We have to be smart about this.”

“And in the meanwhile, Diggs just sits behind bars, waitin’ for a bullet?” She shook her head obstinately. “I ain’t lettin’ that happen.”

Blye squeezed the Tinker’s hand. “Maggie, listen to me. We will get Diggs out, I swear we will. Him and all the others. But we have to do this right, or else we risk doing more harm than good.” She clasped both her hands around hers. “Do you trust me?”

It took a moment for her to respond. “... you know I do,” she got out at last.

“Then trust me now. I imagine Sariah already has a plan in the works, so why not hear what she has to say?” She turned to the priestess. “You do have a plan, don’t you?”

“The bare bones of one, yes,” she agreed. “But right now, what we need more than anything else are contacts. We need to reach out to as many people as we can, people of honor, who have proven their trustworthiness. We could especially use more connections within the Tinkers,” she said pointedly. “Do you think you could help us with that?”

Maggie grimaced, fighting down a vulgar comeback, before finally giving the priestess a choppy nod. “Yeah, I know some folks,” she admitted. “I’ll talk to ‘em.”

“Thank you,” she said gratefully. “In the meantime, since you’ve chosen to join our little rebellion, there are some procedures I need to brief you on, starting with how a clandestine cell network operates…”