It took a few days to work out the details of the prisoner exchange, with the negotiations breaking down more than once over questions of ransom and parole. The Valkyries were holding more prisoners than the Legionnaires, to be expected since they were defending and not attacking. A one-for-one swap was the usual rule of thumb, but since they had captured almost twice as many enemy combatants it was suggested they demand the Legion pay a bounty to release the rest, something they flatly refused to do. Eventually, however, cooler heads prevailed, with both sides agreeing to hand over all captured personnel and call it a wash.
That still left the even stickier question of parole.
It was a fact of life for mercenary companies; any prisoner you released today you could expect to see again tomorrow, doing their level best to kill you all over again. No commander in their right mind wants to help their enemy, so why not hold on to their prisoners until after they had resolved the conflict?
Except, of course, that same enemy was holding your people, and getting them back quickly and in one piece was crucial for morale. If your troops thought for a second you weren’t doing everything possible to secure the return of their brothers and sisters, suddenly they weren’t so inclined to fight for you. It was a necessary evil, so one simply held their nose and accepted it.
But what if there was another option? What if you signed an agreement, a parole, stating any prisoners you released would not fight against you? On paper it was brilliant; both sides got their people back, plus you no longer had to worry about simply recycling enemy soldiers back to the front. Problem solved.
Unfortunately, there were problems with that idea as well. How did you ensure the other side kept their word? What if they had nowhere to send them? How do you enforce the parole? It was a can of worms no matter which way you looked at it, so finally both sides agreed to an equal swap and parole, both knowing full well the swap was anything but equal, and that their parole would be tossed out the airlock the moment you handed them over. Bowing to the inevitable, both sides shook hands and then studiously ignored the truth of what was really going on.
Easier all around.
With that settled, the actual handover was the next roadblock it forced them to address. The questions of How, When, Where, and How Many were bandied back and forth, the biggest issue being… no surprise… neither side trusting the other. Finally, after much deliberation, they agreed the exchange would take place midday at a set of coordinates roughly equidistant between the two camps. They agreed to forbid all weapons heavier than sidearms during the transfer, limiting the number of escorts to ten. For the Valkyries that worked out to all of 1st Squad, plus the Lieutenant and Gunny, and for once the squad wasn’t bitching about being tapped for the duty.
That didn’t mean, however, that they were happy about it.
“I can’t believe it took them four whole days to hammer this out,” Rivka muttered, gripping a side rail as they bounced around in the back of a wheeled vehicle. She glanced over at her partner, who looked especially morose. “You going to be okay?”
“I feel naked,” Tawfiq whined, glancing at the sidearm belted at his waist as if it were a toy.
“You’ll get your gun back, I promise,” Kai told him, shaking his head. “I swear, I worry about you sometimes.”
“I’d say we’ve got better things to worry about,” Rúna chimed in as she monitored the prisoners. They’d cuffed their hands for safety and briefed them about their destination, with no complaints. They wanted to get back to their side and knew the quickest and easiest way to do that was to follow the squad’s instructions. The Lieutenant and NCOs ensured their people didn’t step out of line, and most everyone was content with the way it was playing out.
“Let’s make damn sure this transfer goes smooth,” Gunny Satou told them. “We let ‘em out, uncuff ‘em, make the trade, and vamoose. In and out.” She glanced back at the corporal. “None of us want this to go sideways.”
“Roger that,” she agreed, before turning to the others. “You all heard the Gunny. Nice and easy.”
“Works for me,” Becca nodded, safeguarding Doc while he changed a dressing. Once he finished, the alien nodded his thanks, then looked back out over the landscape as they neared their destination.
An alert pinged in Kai’s helmet. “Two minutes out,” he told the others, checking the Heads-Up Display, before tapping the insectoid Optio on its carapace. “We’re almost there,” he informed them. “Tell your people we’ll remove the cuffs once we’re out of the vehicle, and after that? We swap you for our people, and everybody leaves happy. Any questions?”
“None, sergeant,” the head alien answered. “Your people have treated us well. It is appreciated.”
“And we appreciate you not causing us any grief,” Rúna said politely. “There’s no need for any of us to make things worse than they are.”
“Agreed,” the Optio inclined its head. “Should any of you decide your current billet no longer suits you, you would be most welcome among the Legion.” It made a vague wave of its appendage. “Considering what is to come, and all.”
“That’s… a tempting offer,” Kai said carefully, “but I think we’ll pass. We Terrans are more comfortable among our own kind. You understand,” he shrugged.
“A provincial attitude,” the alien clicked. “Still, should you change your mind…” it began, as the vehicle slowed to a stop.
“We’ll keep it in mind,” Gunny Satou snorted, jumping down and undogging the ramp. “All right, form ‘em up,” she called out to the others. “Let’s get this show on the road.”
“Hey, here they come,” Becca nudged the young private, “look sharp.”
An open-back transport headed towards them, though it rode silently above the ground instead of bouncing around on wheels. The Lieutenant stepped out of the cab while the NCOs started shepherding the prisoners out of the vehicle, while Becca and Doc worked to remove their cuffs as Danielov stepped forward, waiting to welcome the new arrivals.
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Yendrick poked his head out from the driver’s seat, only to be waved back by Kai. “Sit tight, and keep the engine running,” he told him, as the alien craft came to a halt and slowly settled onto the ground. A small cluster of humans were being led out the back, mirroring their own efforts, when Kai tapped Rúna on the shoulder, pointing at an alien that seemed... familiar.
“Is that who I think that is?” he murmured, nodding at the blue-skinned Ixi carrying a single curved sword.
“It’s him,” she agreed, “but what the hell is he doing here?” she wondered aloud as he looked over in their direction, giving them a nod.
“Guess we’re about to find out,” Kai shrugged, as the aliens led their human prisoners to their position.
“Greetings,” Danielov began, “As promised, we have returned your legionnaires…” only to be ignored as the Ixi strode right past him.
“Sergeant, corporal, it is pleasing to see you both again,” the Paygan grinned, while the lieutenant spluttered behind him.
“Likewise,” Rúna nodded, “though I’m a little surprised to see you here. I thought this was between us and the Legion.”
“Ah, well, that is the curse of working with Allies,” he chortled. “We spend more time watching each other than we spend watching you.” He laughed at his own joke, before shrugging. “I am here as an official observer for the Brigade.” His eyes traveled down to the scabbard at her waist. “Have you blooded it yet?” he asked.
“Not yet,” she answered. “I’m no expert on Ixi traditions, Paygan, but I am strongly tempted to return your blade to you. The only thing stopping me is that I’d probably be violating some social taboo.”
“You would be,” he said gravely. “Returning a blade won in single combat implies the individual is unworthy or unwilling to fight for its return. It is indeed a grievous insult among my people.”
“I was afraid of that,” she sighed, as the lieutenant interjected himself into the conversation.
“Corporal, please introduce me to your… friend,” he said stiffly.
“Aye sir,” she nodded. “Lieutenant Danielov, this is Paygan Xeing. He’s the one I got the sword from,” she explained, patting the scabbard.
“An honor, Paygan,” he acknowledged.
“And you, Lieutenant,” the Ixi warrior agreed, before turning his attention back to Rúna. “I look forward to our next encounter on the field of battle,” he informed her, “as I still intend to retrieve my blade.” His smile was as genuine as it was ominous.
“I don’t suppose you’d settle for another ‘First Blood’ contest?” she asked hopefully.
“Ah, I am afraid not,” the Paygan replied with great reluctance. “For a first match between rivals it is acceptable, but a second?” He shook his head. “That would be seen as cowardice, I fear.”
“Look, I really don’t want to fight you again,” she explained, “and honestly? I don’t need a sword. There’s got to be some way I can give it back without one of us ending up dead.”
“None that I can think of, corporal,” he shrugged. “We are both warriors, after all. It is…”
“... the way of things, yes, I know,” she sighed.
The Paygan simply smiled. “Be of good cheer, corporal. Perhaps you will kill me,” he told her, though it was clear he believed nothing of the sort. “That, however, is for another time,” he continued. “Today, we have business to see to.” Bowing to the humans, he made his withdrawal, returning to where the exchange was taking place. Gunny Satou had formed up the alien prisoners on her side, while one of the Legion officers had assembled the human POWs on theirs. Neither side budged; both were wary to make the first move for fear of some sort of last-minute trickery.
“Unbelievable,” Kai groaned, as they each wondered how the hell they were going to unstick this logjam when the Ixi warrior intervened once more.
“As I am neither Legion nor Terran, perhaps I may help move this forward?” he asked.
“You might not be part of the Legion, but you’re fighting alongside them,” Gunny pointed out. “Some might say you’re not exactly unbiased.”
“I can assure you the Legion despises me far more than they do you,” he grinned. Glancing over at the other aliens, the stares Paygan Xeing was receiving from them seemed to bear that out. The Gunny and Lieutenant shared a brief look and then shrugged in unison.
“Fine with me,” Danielov agreed.
“I find this acceptable as well,” the Legion representative concurred.
“Excellent,” he chortled, rubbing his hands together in glee. “I propose the following: I will count slowly to five. Upon reaching that number, both parties will release their prisoners, who will begin walking to the other side. Once they have been safely returned, all individuals in attendance will board their respective vehicle, and depart.” He turned first to the Legion, and then to the humans. “Does this procedure meet with your approval?”
“Seems simple enough,” Gunny nodded.
“Very well,” the Legionnaire reluctantly agreed.
“Splendid!” Plucking a kerchief from his sash, he held it aloft. “When the cloth falls, begin your march,” he told the prisoners. There were nods from both groups as he rested his other hand on the hilt of his sword. “One!” he called out.
There was no reaction from either camp, other than curious glances around them as they searched for some sort of eleventh-hour deception.
“Two!” Another dramatic pause, as all in attendance seemed to hold their breath.
“Three!” By now boredom was setting in, as the expected threat failed to materialize.
“Four!” The Paygan glanced about, only to spot more than one “Get on with it” gestures.
Another long pause, and then… “Five!” he bellowed, as the cloth fell free from his hand.
Both groups of prisoners stepped forward, beginning their march across the scrub to where their counterparts waited. Roughly twenty meters separated the two groups, making for a quick journey, yet given the tension in the air as both sides dared the other to make a move, it might as well have been a million. The Paygan observed the exchange as if he were an especially tough-minded referee awaiting the outbreak of violence. As both groups huddled around their newly freed companions, bustling them aboard their transports, he bent down to retrieve his cloth, bowing to the Terrans with a wink and an elaborate flourish.
“Time to go,” Gunny ordered, clambering back into the vehicle as Yendrick revved the engine. Doc was already examining the new arrivals as Kai and Rúna both sighed in relief.
“Finally, something going right for once,” the corporal said happily, as the transport pulled out and headed back to base.
“Amen,” the sergeant agreed, before turning his attention to the medic. “How are they, Doc?” he asked him.
“Got a couple we need to monitor, but it looks like they did a decent job patching our people up,” he reported. “I think we’re good.”
“At least now we’ve got an established procedure we can use next time,” Becca reminded them. “That’s good, right?”
“Assuming there is a next time,” Gunny said wearily, “but I wouldn’t count on anything just yet.”
“Why not?” Rúna asked her.
“Sure, if the Legion grab our people again, we’ve got a precedent to fall back on,” the older woman agreed, “and considering how that Paygan was working to keep things friendly I figure we can work something out with the Ixi, but did you notice who wasn’t in attendance?”
“The Zaitai,” Kai grimaced. “No surprise there. They’re scumbags.”
“Scumbags that’ll slit your throat as soon as look at you,” Gunny agreed. “You get taken by them? Make sure you save a round.”
Arthur looked as if he wanted to ask a question, before falling silent. “Something on your mind, private?” she asked.
“Just… I don’t understand what you mean. ‘Save a round’?” he asked in confusion.
Suddenly, everyone was looking elsewhere. “Save a round for yourself,” the Gunny clarified. “Some Zaitai get real creative with prisoners,” she told him. “I’ve heard stories how they’ve kept prisoners alive for weeks under torture. You don’t want to go out like that, kid,” she told him, shaking her head, “you surely don’t. A bullet’s a hell of a lot cleaner.”
Rúna winced in sympathy as the young private turned green, before vomiting over the side.