He stopped; Ky said nothing, and he started again. “The slickest of all, though I can’t think how we’d coordinate that over the several holding facilities, is to replace the vehicle that’s supposed to transport them with our vehicle. Would work in a vid, maybe, but probably not in practice.”
“It might for one of them,” Rafe said.
“Morrison says they’re coming from different places, different directions. So they’ll be using multiple vehicles. We know there’s just one road in—” Ky scowled at the table, thinking hard. “They still want to keep this under wraps—someone still thinks it’s possible to keep control of the knowledge about Miksland. For all we know they’ve moved their people back in.”
“That’s not going to work long-term,” Teague said. “Both sets of mercs know about it, and I doubt either set will obey a nondisclosure agreement even if they signed one. Every soldier who trained down there knows about it. Eventually it’s bound to leak out—”
“And they should know that. Someone on that side should know that; they aren’t stupid or they’d have made bad mistakes before.” Ky took a breath as another possibility came to her. “They do know it, and they don’t expect the secrecy to hold forever, just long enough for—for something else. Whatever—” She paused again, then spoke as the idea came clear. “Whatever Greyhaus and those troops were training for. What do you want a secret military force for?” She looked around.
“A war,” Inyatta said. “They were going to start a war? Why?”
“The usual reason is to overthrow the government,” Rafe said. “But why?”
“And when?” Ky said. “If they’re aiming to start a war and need to keep it secret until they’re ready, then the survivors are definitely in their way.” She pushed that issue aside. “Teague, let’s get back to the actual mission planning.”
“So how many people are we trying to rescue?” Teague asked.
“Fourteen, if they all survived. Seventeen should have come back, and three escaped to us.”
“Do we know how many are in each place now?”
“Yes, from Morrison’s report. And she’s bringing more information later today.”
“And where will we be transporting them? Remember, some of them, if not all, will need medical care within a few hours.”
“I haven’t figured that out yet.”
“You forget,” Stella said from the doorway, “that you have one asset you haven’t mentioned yet.”
Ky had not heard her come in. “You’re home early.”
“Aunt Grace had a message for you—here.” She handed over a datastick and a large envelope. “Sergeant Major Morrison is with me, waiting in the hall. She wants to talk to you. And—as I said—there’s an asset you hadn’t mentioned.”
Ky blinked. “What?”
“Vatta Transport. We and our associates have a planet-wide transportation network—from way back—with trucks, vans, ships, and aircraft constantly on the move. You need to track only four vehicles to find the survivors—they’d have to track thousands of ours.”
“Yes, but—”
“On this continent alone, we have warehouses in every city bigger than a hundred thousand, and in some smaller ones where it’s convenient to us. At every good-sized airport, we transfer air cargo to ground transport and vice versa. The attack on Vatta concentrated on our headquarters and our space-based transport, but when I finally made it back here I discovered that our air, sea, and ground network had lost only ten percent of its capacity. And we’re back to that and above now.”
“But we don’t have ambulances, do we?”
“No. But you don’t have to have an ambulance. How about fitting out one or two of the larger trucks as a mobile clinic? Beds, if you like, or float chairs, or just comfortable furniture. Toilets. We can use regularly scheduled trucks for some of it, just claim that a particular run is oversold, and put another truck on for the deliveries. We’ve done that before.”
Ky looked puzzled. “But I thought you felt this was all—ridiculous. I didn’t think you’d want to help.”
“Of course I want to help. I don’t want any of you killed for lack of resources—” She looked at each in turn. “And it’ll cost less than renting vehicles, won’t it?” She nodded, looking satisfied at their reaction. “I can’t stay—I have appointments downtown.”
When Morrison joined the group, briefcase in hand, she had more than just the data in the packages Grace had sent. “I’ve spoken with the base commander—and here’s why I felt that important.”
After the first shock—like jumping into a snowbank—Ky understood her reasons.
“And you needed a way to get these personnel back into safe military hands,” Morrison said, finishing her report. “Trying to hide them somewhere would have created legal problems for everyone involved, military and civilian. I am certain that General Molosay is not part of the conspiracy. When he realized the danger to the survivors of organizing a purely military op, he agreed I could liaise with you and granted the use of three full special ops teams.”
Ky nodded. “Thank you, Sergeant Major. That will be a huge help.”
Morrison turned to Inyatta. “Corporal, I have new IDs for you, Corporal Barash, and Tech Kamat. Uniforms should arrive in Rector Vatta’s apartment by late afternoon, so that you can appear—if you are on the op or not—in your own identities. If you are not part of the op, General Molosay wants you to report to his office on base; transportation can be arranged.” She opened her briefcase and handed out the ID packets. “Welcome home.”
Ky could see the emotion on their faces; she felt a lump in her own throat. “Thank you, Sergeant Major,” she said, her voice a little hoarse.
“My orders are to accompany the first group coming back to Port Major, by whatever means, so I will need to be at whatever collection point you’ve established. Do you have that information yet?”
“Vatta Transport will be providing transportation,” Ky said. “I’d like to fly each group out from the nearest airport—that seems fastest and most secure.”
“Weekes City,” Rodney put in. “Vatta has regular air freight to and from a ground transport warehouse there. Frequent flights in different sizes of aircraft.”
“It will be very soon—as early as tomorrow, no more than three days,” Morrison said. “The Rector said she was sure you could be ready by then.”
“We can,” Ky said, “if we finish the planning now. You can help, if you will.”
“Of course.”
From there the plan moved quickly.
“Only one way in or out—we want to snatch them before that dead end,” Teague said. “You want multiple exits—here’s a useful branch, and here as well. Somewhere between three and ten kilometers back. We could even pick up the group coming from the east all the way back here, before they get to that last road.”
“You’re assuming that air transport will be safe,” Morrison said, tapping her finger on that line of the plan.
“They can reach Port Major in four hours,” Ky said. “And the first group, at least, will be unexpected.”
“Admiral, with respect, there are two air bases between Weekes City and here, and General Molosay, in our conversation, expressed some concerns. Nothing strong enough to act on, but if you met air surveillance or interference—or an air attack on ground movement—”
“And if they figure out which plane,” Ky said, nodding. “Vatta planes, like any civilian planes, are unarmed and slower than military interceptors.”