He thought about the little blonde with a snake’s tail tattooed from her neck to reappear on her bare midriff, heading lower. In a return to his cheery tone, Daniel added, “And if God wants to throw us a bonus, that’s all right with me.”
Adele sat with her head out of the cupola as Barnes brought the overloaded APC down where the Cinnabar camp had been. Streams of plasma had considerably enlarged the clearing, but all signs of the shelters and goods salvaged from the yacht were gone.
Water sprayed as the vehicle settled. After the ions had burned long tracks of soil away, rain and seepage through the porous rock had filled the ruin.
Adele wondered if Daniel was dropping the Alliance soldiers here rather than on the beach to make a point. Daniel Leary was an extremely straightforward man, but she’d realized early after meeting him that he was quite subtle in his direct fashion—when he chose to be.
It was hard to remember that she’d met Daniel only a week before.
Barnes adjusted the drive fans to a whining idle. Without orders, Hogg and several of the sailors crammed into the troop compartment rolled the prisoners onto the ground. The Alliance troops were bound individually and roped to one another by their wrists as well.
Adele lifted herself up to sit on the folded-back cupola hatch. By leaning forward, she could see the Alliance troops as they writhed and splashed, cursing.
Daniel stood on the vehicle’s side panel folded down into a ramp. He lifted a prisoner’s face from the trench in which she spluttered and supported her until she squirmed into a position that was survivable if not necessarily comfortable.
“Shut the motors off for a moment, Barnes,” Daniel said. “I want them to be able to hear what I have to say.”
Sixteen of the Cinnabars, Adele included, wore commando uniforms including the communication helmets. She heard Daniel’s voice clearly over the helmet intercom as well as a faint echo through the air.
The helmets were fine for now, but they’d have to switch off the radios well before reaching Kostroma City. Even if the Alliance forces were too busy to institute a comprehensive signals watch, chatter in Cinnabar accents over Alliance equipment would raise a red flag.
The rhythmic hum of the engines sank to a quiver. A squad of sailors dragged the prisoners, still linked, a few yards farther so they couldn’t grab a landing skid as the APC lifted.
Daniel stepped to the ground and faced the naked prisoners. “There’s enough food and water on this atoll to keep you forever,” he said. “Also we’re leaving most of the rations we brought from the naval stores, here and on the other island. If you don’t like the division of supplies I’ve made between you and Ganser, you can go across and discuss the matter. Or you can join forces, of course.”
He smiled at the Alliance lieutenant without humor. Adele knew Daniel well enough by now to recognize that he was angry; surprisingly angry, she thought, until she remembered what the plasma-ripped campsite meant to him.
“The last time I did something like this,” Daniel went on, “I told the people I was marooning that I’d send them help in thirty days if they hadn’t managed to get off the atoll themselves. I’m not saying that now. All you’re getting from me is your lives . . . which is rather better than you were offering, isn’t it?”
He stepped up into the troop compartment. “You can’t leave us tied!” a soldier said. The one who spoke was the sergeant who’d first told what he knew about the Aglaia. “We can’t survive unless you cut us loose!”
Daniel grimaced. “Hogg, throw him a knife,” he said. “Barnes, take us up to a hundred feet and circle the area.”
Hogg smashed a brandy bottle on the side of the hatchway. As the motors began to grunt under load, he tossed the jagged neck in the direction of the sergeant.
The sides of the troop compartment were hinged horizontally. They lifted halfway to form railings on either side while the compartment remained open to light and air. Adele slid back into the cupola seat as the vehicle rose.