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Pinching the bridge of his nose, Brooks closed his eyes and took some deep breaths.

He’d taken a stim to take the edge of weariness off, but it could only do so much.

The Gohhian legal documents had arrived less than an hour ago, and he had severely underestimated how difficult this was going to be.

There were over 300,000 pages of documents from their lawyers.  Over thirty separate claims and avenues of attack, ranging from minute legal arguments quibbling over the wording of treaties to attacking the women’s credibility, to the claim that this had all been an elaborate plan to steal money.  There were claims, too, that they’d stolen a number of credits, which he had no ability to fight.

Urle’s further interviews with Sem Kassa, Ozgu Uzun, and Lizicy Mae had only made things worse.

Their stories were rife with trivial inconsistencies from each other and from their original story.  All three stories differed on their route to the Craton, though notably the inconsistent spots were actually consistent.

It meant that something happened along those points that they didn’t want to tell.

Even details like Uzun being drugged did not match up with their story.  They had found a narcotic in her system, but it seemed to be more recent than their actual escape.

Y’s notes had found an injection site on her body, and it did not seem to have been done forcibly – such an act would leave a different injury.  That didn’t prove she had it willingly, only that she hadn’t fought it, but it was just another questionable detail.

Yet it was clear the women were not lying; they had been horribly mistreated, Uzun had been stabbed, and given the almost-certain deaths they’d face if returned, he could not fathom sending them back.

The Gohhian court cases could be fought, he thought.  The Union would back these women.

Urle beeped for entry.

“Come in,” Brooks called.

Urle entered, sitting down heavily in the chair across from Brook’s desk.

“They’re all back in their quarters now, they were pretty freaked out being questioned so much.  Only so much Kiseleva and I could do to reassure them, given how uncertain we are.”

“Have you seen what the Gohhians gifted us?” Brooks asked.

“Yeah, I perused it on the way over . . . honestly, Ian, it’s not like they’re trying to win.  They’re just trying to drag it out.”

“And I think they can.  This was a show of force – their army of lawyers showing the flag in their own way.”

“Either way they win,” Urle said with a sigh.  “If they can’t get the women back, they’ll have them trapped in a legal limbo for years.  How can they have peace when this will be dangling over their heads?”

“They can draw it out for a decade, I think.  Until the statute of limitations wears off,” Brooks surmised.

“Fisc, all of this just to try and make us give up Holdur?”

“He’s got connections,” Brooks said.  “Though it’s odd.  They stick up for each other, but this is expensive.  Holdur Conglomerate has a hell of a lot of money and sway, but even so – getting the other Lord Executives to back them is surprising.”

“You think there’s more to this?”

“Always,” Brooks said.  “How is the social end going?”

“They’re being crucified in the court of public opinion.  They’re thieves, they’re sluts, they’re worthless murderers – some are even suggesting they’re spies for us.  Hell, they’ve even got some of the groups that are supposed to be for women’s rights railing against them.”

“Silver lining in a way,” Brooks said.  “We’ll make a note of any who are actually sticking up for them, they be legitimate.  The ones attacking them have outed themselves as tools of the Lord Executives.”

Urle nodded, and Brooks saw a new bit of data appear, a list of the groups trying to fight the tide of slander hurled at the women.  It was a depressingly short list.

It wasn’t important at the moment, though.

“This is still really about Holdur, though, so that’s the clue.  He’s worth a fortune to them, even more than his own family realistically would want to invest in him . . .”

Brooks trailed off, a new thought entering his head.

“Holdur knows something,” he realized.

Urle sat up.  “You mean they’re not caring about his fate, they’re afraid of what he might say to us?”

“Yes,” Brooks said, the thought running rampant in his mind.  It made sense; the move against the women was a desperate play.  It was an attack that made little sense, not this level of investment.

They’d not stop with these women, he realized.  Even if the Union fought them on it, they’d look for another angle.  Or perhaps even try to get Holdur killed in Union custody.  That could be of great value to the Gohhians – a propaganda win and their secrets safe.

So what did Holdur know?

It had to be powerful to make them this afraid.  Dirty secrets about members of his class?  Often they wouldn’t even care about that sort of thing, given what they openly did, so anything they considered a dirty little secret was probably unfathomably bad – and a weapon.

“Captain,” Urle said.

“Hm?” Brooks asked, looking up to his first officer.

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