Strat-3 Chpt-32

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==Strategos (A Great Captain Roberts Tale!!) - Part 3 - A Light In The Black - Chapter 32 - In the Aftermath of the Battle of Bannerhoft…==
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===Fate of the Captives===
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"This is not even their…
…Capital world!!" Khan Crowe argued. "This is the equivalent of a provincial seat."
"The losses in the ground fighting are significant. The Grand Council will demand concessions, access to resources, and territory… but you already knew that." President Avellar's image was steady in the holotank today.
"Aff," he sighed. "I am no longer surprised, Mitchell, that you would recognize this on your own."
"Center the enclaves at the main major landings," President Avellar stated. "I would argue a good chunk of the rest for the Alliance, I can get the Parliament to buy off on an occupation plan for Bannerhoft, at least for the duration of the war."
"What about the slaves?"
"Free them." said Mitchell
"And the non-slave citizens?", Alberto asked.
"Do as you will, those people were farming, buying, and selling human beings, Khan Crowe. I see no reason not to let the Clans… re-educate them." His eyes burned in outrage. "I have no mercy left in me, for slavers… but their children might be salvaged into decent human beings under the right teaching. So no sterilizations of the population. Pass it to your colleagues. Word of something like that will set the whole damned country on fire."
Crowe mused, "I will take that into consideration, President Mitchell. I do not relish the thought of civilian uprisings in the middle of a war, unless they are happening to my enemy."
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===Punishment for Actions Taken===
"What the ****** were you…
…thinking?" Admiral David Foster, Privateer Service, was angry. "Your orders were to withdraw, Director Seron!! Not go hauling your way through clouds of enemy fighters, guns blazing merrily away!!"
He turned, without giving Seron a chance to answer, "And you, Joanna, I thought you were more responsible than to let him!"
“Work in progress, Sir.”
"Your 'work in progress' has only a single benefit, to either of you," Foster scowled. "In addition to yard time for you, Joanna, and shore duty for you, Mister Seron…" He reached into his tunic, and brought out a small box, which he opened. "Battle Honors for Bannerhoft." He pushed the pin through Seron's tunic, left the backing off, and slammed it with his palm, then, he did the same to Joanna's remote, but with an additional one. "And your 'I forgot to duck' medal, Joanna." The 'purple heart' was silver instead of purple. "Yard says it's going to be a long two and a half months for you."
“Uh… Oh. I see. Because I am the ship. Still getting used to working in this manner sir.”
"Now, for your punishments…" he extracted a noteputer from his desk. "Mister Seron, you will take charge of Post Housing and Dependent Welfare. And Joanna?" he smiled nastily. "You're in charge of the Venereal Disease Prevention Office-or your remote is, anyway. You get to lecture people on the dangers of unprotected sex and managing sick-call and medical reports."
“Yes, sir.” Joana tried to keep a poker face up.
"Just wait a bit. Capricious is due to arrive, and Luther Bedwyr's getting his own shit details for breaking orders and saving that Ghost Bear transport during the landing phase." Foster grinned maliciously. "I'm thinking… Hygiene officer. Making him inspect the Marine barracks, maybe."
"There is a purpose to this," Seron muttered.
"You're right. One of your duties is tracking maternal leaves and light duty." Foster told him. "Seems when you bottle up several thousand young people, without first installing contraception…"
"NO!"
"Yeah. Station's got over a hundred personnel on light duty due to… maternal concerns." Foster paused. "ALICE, at least, is tickled to be bringing the maternity wards out of mothball. I think I'll make Sikh handle those while we're replacing her port smallcraft bay and weapons array."
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===Admiral Billie Siegel-Foster, departing===
"Are you sure those assignments are…
…a good idea, Admiral Foster?" Helena was dubious.
"They have to learn higher command functions somehow, Director-General. Best way to learn it, is to screw up a few times." Admiral Foster told Helena
“I guess I was just hoping what you and Larry Nichols taught them would have propagated through the rest of the fleet better, but I guess they are a bit hidebound from being around almost four centuries now.”
Billie Siegel-Foster sighed from her reclined position in long term care. "It's more about Dave needing to condition young officers. He still sees them as young officers, and those four DID break orders to withdraw."
“I suppose in a way that is true. Nearly 400 years without a crew or removed from their source’s experiences, they may as well be with all the bad habits that would instill in them.”
"He also needs the distraction," Billie added. "Can you help me with the straw on this thing?"
“Of course. How are the tremors?"
"They only hurt when I breathe," Billie said. "I didn't think it would progress this fast!"
“Unfortunately all the real experts have also been dead for almost 400 years. So I don’t think any of us were really prepared for this. For that I owe you the impossible. I know my AIs feel the same way.”
"Tell me about it…" she sipped from the offered sports bottle. "David and I, we always expected to go down in a fight, neither of us expected one of us to go through… this. I can't even fly a prop now."
“I… I have nothing that will fix this. But if there is anything I can do just ask.”
"I knew the risks, Director-General, there was always the chance one of us would die, I just won the toss, so you still have one of the best Naval Minds the Clan ever raised," Billie reassured her. "And that is not nothing."
“I just wish I could at least help make you more comfortable. You deserve that much.”
"The doctors have me on the good drugs, Helena. At least I'm not being left to starve."
“There is that. I know I will not be able to sleep properly until this is all well and truly finished.”
"Ah, but that means returning to Terra, Helena, and claiming your birthright." Billie urged. "Did you know, when I was young? I was a Crusader in a Warden Clan, so was David. We were sure we could restore the Star League… eventually… But we didn't have a Helena, and now he does."
“Ah, but there is no need for it to be based on Terra. For me, Terra has lost much of its luster. But Truk also urges me to eventually go back to face my past there. So maybe someday I will. But for now we have all the Star League we need right here.”
"The… Star League… is an Idea, not a place. But some of the Symbols are so important..." her eyes glazed as the auto-injector detected her algometric range and administered painkillers. "It's… the… hidden… hope…" and she was out again.
“Sleep well, Billie Siegel,” Helena brought to mind the design of Star League medals and honors. “Star League Medal of Honor, Medal of Valor, the Order of the Sword, McKenna Wheel, and the Geerson Flying Cross are yours.”
Wilhelmina Siegel-Foster died at 04:22 AM the following morning, cause of death “induced nervous system collapse”.
She was 62 years old.
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===Farewell to a dear Friend===
The Funeral… 
…was held on the small craft bay of OWS Illusive at the closest safe approach to the singularity.
The service was relatively large, and some had to attend by remote (besides the AIs), as Billie Siegel had many friends and honored colleagues among the Privateers, and even more among the Clan.
Esmerelda Gomez served the role of Chaplain, being at least religiously trained, if somewhat lapsed.
With how many Outworlders were part of the Privateers, it was expected that the widower of the deceased be among the mourners, and only someone indirectly connected conduct the service.
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She began with Tennyson…
"Crossing the Bar
Sunset and evening star,
And one clear call for me!
And may there be no moaning of the bar,
When I put out to sea,
But such a tide as moving seems asleep,
Too full for sound and foam,
When that which drew from out the boundless deep
Turns again home.
Twilight and evening bell,
And after that the dark!
And may there be no sadness or farewell,
When I embark;
For tho’ from out our bourne of Time and Place
The flood may bear me far,
Hope to see my Pilot face to face
When I have crost the bar."
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"We commit this body to the deeps, O Lord, that the soul travel to you in soonest time," she finished.
The sarcophagus, with its eight-minute thruster, was released from the airlock, to drift in the gravity of the singularity before igniting on its way to the event horizon. "Amen."
On her chest were the medals Helena and her AIs made for her. Every possible part furnished from some original bit of hull, system, or random bit originally from Terra.
Good enough for ilClan in my book Siegel, Helena silently prayed.
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