The Lost Fleet: Beyond the Frontier: Steadfast by Jack Campbell Page B

stealth craft, I can’t run the risk of making the odds against my people worse. If someone is going to die down there,” Geary finished, “it’s not going to be any of my Marines.”
    Nkosi looked down at his hands where they rested on the desk before him. “I can respect your logic. But there is no if. Those on the stealth craft will die. Your officers should die as well, not because I wish it, but because my orders allow no exceptions. I will ask permission to allow you to do this.”
    “How long do you think that would take?” Geary demanded, trying to keep the irritation out of his voice.
    “Years,” Nkosi admitted. “To get an answer, that is. Every government in Sol Star System would have a vote, and it would have to be unanimous.”
    “Then the answer would be no,” Rione said.
    “Only if we are lucky enough to still be alive,” the commander replied. “I cannot deny the truth of what you say. The only way to keep that craft from escaping is to allow you to do this. Otherwise, everyone in this star system may die while the debate on what to do goes on, and the vote never takes place because everything orbiting Sol will be like Europa. I must allow this, but you must know the risk that I personally run by agreeing to allow it.”
    “Court-martial?” Geary asked.
    “A very short one,” Nkosi said. “The penalty would surely be that proscribed for anyone who fails in their duty to maintain the quarantine.” He pointed downward. “A one-way trip to the surface of Europa.”
    Geary felt his next words catch in his throat. “I cannot ask—” he finally began.
    “Wait, Admiral.” Nkosi gestured again, this time outward. “Do you know what the duty of the quarantine force would be if the plague escaped Europa and spread among other locations in this star system?”
    “I know that the original quarantine ships had to destroy refugee ships trying to flee Europa,” Geary said.
    “Yes. We would do that again, everywhere the plague spread. And our quarantine ships would take up positions at the jump points from Sol and at the hypernet gate your Alliance constructed, and we would destroy every craft that came toward those places trying to flee for safety. When the last refugee was dead, the last fleeing ship destroyed, all of this star system lifeless, our final duty would be to hurl our ships into the star Sol.” Nkosi shook his head again, his eyes haunted by visions of that possible future. “Do you not think I would go to my own death to prevent that?”
    “Is there any way to prevent them from punishing you?” Rione asked.
    “Officially? No.”
    “You could come with us,” Geary said. “Back to the Alliance.”
    Nkosi smiled. “I believe in facing the consequences of my actions, Admiral. I am old-fashioned in that way.”
    “I’m pretty old-fashioned myself. But you don’t deserve to die.”
    “You don’t have to,” Rione announced, looking up from her data pad. “What is the single overriding imperative in your orders, Commander?”
    He frowned at her. “We have discussed that.
Prevent any contamination from leaving Europa.
”
    “By any means necessary,”
Rione finished.
    “How did you know what my orders say?”
    “That’s not important. The important thing is that our proposed operation is the only means available to you to . . .”
    Nkosi’s frown changed to a look of surprise. “To prevent contamination from leaving Europa. By the letter of my orders, I must allow you to proceed.”
    “That will make a good defense for you?” Geary asked.
    “Good? No. Perfect. This is Sol Star System. Our people worship written procedures, rules, and regulations like others worship the divine. I cannot be prosecuted for following the letter of my orders. And so I shall not die.”
    Geary felt himself smiling for the first time in at least the last several hours. “Are the other ships around here under similar orders? What will they do?”
    “They will ask for guidance from