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“Is Holdur worth keeping, even with this knowledge?” Urle asked.  “We can probably stick the attempted murder charge, but if we do we’re trading maybe a combined thirty years of Kassa’s, Uzun’s, and Mae’s lives for fifteen of his.”

“Fifteen?  He could easily get executed for this.”

“The political fallout would be too big a deal.  I know a lot of us will be happy to do that to set an example, but it will set back the long-term goal of getting Gohhi to develop into something not-awful.  So cooler heads will prevail, and that means he gets the max sentence we have at most – just fifteen years, versus thirty off the lives of these women.  Is that worth it?”

Brooks looked back down at his screen.  It was true, the Union did not give sentences surpassing fifteen years, but . . .

He did not want to see an attempted murderer walk free.

“I think,” Urle said, “that we can turn this into a win.”

“How?” Brooks asked.

“We have the position of power.  We can stipulate our own terms for Holdur’s return.  Make sure he sees some punishment.  Perhaps deactivation and banning from dangerous augments, make it so he has to get psychiatric help.”

“They won’t hold him to that,” Brooks said.

“We can make it so it’s easier for them to do that.  If they really want him back so he doesn’t spill secrets, then they might just do it.”

Brooks did not really believe that.

But it did look like maybe it was the one possible clear route to navigate this.

There was one last danger, though; if he offered to return Holdur, he had to be sure that they would then drop their claims against the women.

Would they do that?

It was possible.  But they might keep it up just out of spite.

“Computer, message Lizicy Mae’s quarters, quietly.  I want to find out if she’s awake.”

A few moments later, the system pinged back.  “Lizicy Mae is awake.”

“Please call her, tell her it is the Captain and that it is important.”

The line rung for a long time, and he just hoped that Mae would answer.

Finally, the line clicked open.  It was voice only.

“Captain Brooks?” she asked.  He could hear the fear in her voice.

“I am sorry for bothering you at this hour,” Brooks said.  “I know we have only spoken briefly, but I have to ask you something.”

“Haven’t I answered enough questions?” the woman asked sharply.

“Frankly – yes and no.  I think you’ve gone through more than you should have to, but legally there’s a lot more to ask.  Most people seeking asylum are required to provide enormous amounts of data.  In your cases, though, I think we can see a clear and present danger and move forward without that.”

“Then what else is there to ask me?” she asked.

“The truth.  I give you my word, Ms. Mae, that I am trying to make sure not just that you three are kept safe, but that you are free.  There is a deal that I am prepared to make, but I have to know what really happened.  If there is something I do not know and it becomes an issue, it could have terrible ramifications for your chances.”

There was a long pause, he could hear Mae’s nervous breathing, perhaps even the sound of her sitting down.

“Will we have to face punishment for anything?” she asked softly.  “If we committed a crime.”

Brooks knew now that he had to commit.  “I will offer amnesty for all crimes committed in your escape.”

“Most of it’s true, Captain.  About Ozun overhearing Earl and Baro getting the orders to kill me.  We didn’t make that up.”

Brooks did not have any sensors to scan her metrics and tell if she was lying.  The records from earlier conversations all indicated she was telling the truth.

But he felt he could tell just from her words.

“I believe you,” he said.

“We attacked Earl and Baro, I didn’t think we had any chance, I tried to talk the others out of it, but the guys were pretty drunk and I guess they just never thought we’d fight back.”

“But Uzun was not stabbed then, was she?”

“No,” Mae admitted.  “After we . . . took care of them, we took their money and the money from Daze’s safe.  He kept a lot of it in hard currency, he thought it was harder to track.”

“The two men are dead.  Were you aware of that?” Brooks asked.

“No.  But I’m not sad.”

“Nor am I.  This money you took – where is it?”

“Gone,” Mae said.  “We got rid of it . . .  most of it.  We threw it into a recycler.”

“What happened to the rest?” he asked.

“Uzun bought some ‘jectors with it,” Mae said, her words suddenly a rush.  “I didn’t want her to, but they’d made her addicted to it and she needed the hit to keep going!”

“How did she get stabbed?”

“When we paid in hard cash the dealer got suspicious.  He started asking a lot of questions, I think he might have known Daze and who we were.  But Uzun was in a bad way by then and she started yelling and pointing Earl’s gun.  She had brought it with us, and when he saw it the dealer freaked out.  He stabbed her and ran . . .  After that, we stole his hovercar.  I think he’s how Daze almost caught up to us, he must have run to tell him where we were.”

Brooks took a deep breath.  “Is that everything?”

She was quiet.  “It is.”

“Why did you not want to tell me?”

“Because we stole the money.  We didn’t want to be rich, but he made that money in our pain and tears and I didn’t want him to have it.  And because I thought if you knew Uzun was a junkie you might abandon her.”

“As far as I’m concerned, you acted in self-defense against the two guards and the money is meaningless.  And I have no issue with a drug dealer being robbed,” Brooks said.

“Then we have amnesty?” Mae asked.

“Yes.  You do.”

“Oh thank god!” Mae cried.  “Oh, thank god.”

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