“How long will it take us to make repairs?” he asked.
“That will depend on the supply chain, sir,” she said. “Once we have the Typhoon, we should be able to get started in earnest, but they’ve been breaking more than we have the decking to replace.”
“It’s heartbreaking,” he said because he didn’t know what else to say. She didn’t respond. “What is our capacity at this point?”
“It’s not bad. The only berth that took serious damage was the first. Sheared off the docking clamps. Once that old gunship was out, the bastards took over my office. All the rest were released from the controls. That’s one way it could have been worse, I suppose.”
What if he’d brought Natalia and the monster had been here? Laconians had died in these uprisings. If his family had come to Medina, would they have been targets too? Would he have watched his daughter die the way he’d watched Kasik?
And yes, locals suffered too, but to have his people dead and hurt … And with what repercussions? The criminals had scattered like seeds on the wind, and taken his ship with them. What colony would see these images and not think that they could do the same?
He pushed over to the broken decking and put his hands on it. He’d been weak before. Lenient. He’d thought that by treating the people of Medina as if they were citizens of the empire, they would be transformed somehow. They would be civilized. The decking was half a meter thick, and twisted like a torn leaf. They’d been willing to do this, and he’d pretended he could treat them as if they were sane. Another of his mistakes.
He had hesitated to wield his power before. And the universe had taught him what rewards hesitation brought. Well, he’d learned his lesson.
“Thank you. I understand now,” he said. Possibly to the acting dockmaster. Possibly to something deeper in his own soul. He turned to her. “This won’t happen again.”
“This was what they were building toward,” Overstreet said. “The bad news is, they were by and large quite successful in their aim. I’m not going to make this pretty, sir, they trounced us.”
“I agree,” Singh said.
Overstreet leaned forward in his chair and threw the image from his wrist monitor to the screen over Singh’s desk. A list of all the people presently unaccounted for on Medina. The people that they knew had escaped. Or died.
“On the other hand,” Overstreet said, “their objective was defensive. This was a retreat. I’ve had the technicians make a complete audit, and I’m prepared to certify that it’s safe for the Typhoon to make its transit.”
“You’re sure about that? Completely safe?”
“I think we’ve established that perfect knowledge isn’t possible in this context. But in order to pull off this last series of attacks, the underground had to spend a tremendous amount of its resources and capital on Medina. If they’d stayed here, they could have used the same knowledge of the station and agents within the civilian population to protract the struggle here for months. Maybe years. Instead, they burned it all in one day.”
“So this was a good thing?” Singh said.
“No,” Overstreet said. “But it was all the bad things they could throw at us at once. I feel confident that they didn’t hold anything back. So however bad this looks—and it looks very bad—we’re going to end with Medina carrying a smaller insurgent population, with fewer resources at their disposal, and the main body of the underground scattered to the colonial systems.”
“The colonies,” Singh said. “Yes.”
“The loss of the Storm … well, that’s not inconsiderable. If we hadn’t pulled most of the crew off to assist with other operations … Or if your XO had scuttled the ship once it was clear they couldn’t repel the boarders …”
“Talk to me about the colonies,” Singh said.
Overstreet blinked his too-blue eyes in something like confusion. “Sir?”
“The colonies,” Singh said. “That’s where the terrorists have gone. That’s where the next wave of this will take place, yes?”
“That matches my analysis, sir.”
“So how we proceed here should be considered in light of the colonies. We should examine how likely they are to cooperate with the enemy. And how we can affect those decisions.”
“Yes, sir.”
“An example needs to be made. Something that not only restores confidence in the safety of Medina and the gate network, but displays what Laconian civilization stands for. What we believe. What we are willing to do to ensure our control over this situation.”
Overstreet was silent for a moment. Singh paged through the lists of the missing. The faces of the enemy. There were pages of them, but not uncountably many. This was still a solvable problem.
“What exactly are we willing to do, sir?” Overstreet asked, and his tone told Singh that he knew what was coming.
“A white list,” Singh said. “I would like you to identify the people who we are certain are not involved with the insurgency. The people we know absolutely that we can trust.”
“And the others?”
Singh closed the image down. The enemy vanished. “An example has to be made.”
Overstreet went very still. For a moment, the only sound was the hum of the air recyclers.
“I see,” Overstreet said. “So a step up from counterinsurgency.”
“It’s been justified.”
“The official position of the high consul is that these are all Laconian citizens. That the terrorists are Laconian citizens who are also criminals.”
“I know,” Singh said. “But I also know that I was placed in command of Medina to learn from practice what theory can never teach. And this is the lesson that James Holden and his friends have taught me. Will you refuse to respect the chain of command?”
Overstreet chuckled at that. Singh didn’t know why.
“No, sir, I will follow the chain of command, as is my duty.”
“Good. Please prepare the cull, then. I will trust your judgment on who best belongs on the white list.”
“Yes, sir,” Overstreet said. “Only I have other orders. Sir.”
A thrill of confusion moved up Singh’s spine. “Other orders? From whom?”
“Standing orders I received from Colonel Tanaka when I accepted this position. So ultimately from Admiral Trejo. You see, sir, the high consul made it very clear to Admiral Trejo that the rule of the empire is permanent. And if history shows us anything, it’s that people hold grudges for generations. Whole societies have lived and died because of their antipathy born out of events that happened generations before. Or maybe things that got so mythologized, they were just pissed off about stories of things that never happened in the first place. The admiral was adamant that we hold ourselves to a higher standard. As we always have.” Overstreet spread his hands in a gesture that meant What can you do? His right hand held a gun.
Singh felt his heart catch and then stumble like it was running down a hill. “May I ask what your orders are?”
“I’m to set an example, sir. Restore confidence in the safety of Medina and the gate network, and display what Laconian civilization stands for. Including that we who have accepted the burden of government hold ourselves and each other to the highest possible standard.”
Singh stood. His legs felt weak. This wasn’t possible. This wasn’t happening.
“But I was loyal,” he said. “I’ve obeyed.”
“You’ve given me an order to kill Laconian citizens who have not been found guilty of a crime.”
“But—”
“For what it’s worth, I don’t disagree with you. These people are scum. They don’t deserve or understand what we’ve brought them. For me, I think they never will. But their children might. Their grandchildren or their great-grandchildren. The story of Medina will be that Governor Singh mismanaged the station, lost his ship to a band of malcontents, lost his perspective. And when he let his wounded pride exceed the mandates of the high consul’s directives, he was removed for the protection of the everyday citizens in his care. You see the difference? If you kill an insurgent, you’re the enemy of all their friends. All their family. And then there’s an expectation. Precedent. Enemies for generations. Forever. If you kill your own—even the highest among your own—to protect someone powerless, they remember that too. It sows gratitude. It sows trust. Generations from now your sacrifice will lead to the peace, prosperity, and fellow feeling among all humanity.”
The air was gone. He couldn’t catch his breath. His mind rejected everything he’d heard. He was going to see Natalia again. He was going to hold the monster in his arms and hear her gabble on about school and the dream she’d had and whether they could get a pet for their apartment. All of that was still true. It couldn’t have changed. Not so quickly. Not so finally.
“Plus, it’ll put Governor Song on notice,” Overstreet said. He stood. “I’m very sorry about this, but it could be worse. You could be going to the Pen.”
He lifted the gun.