Invincible

NINETEEN

“Midway continues to recognize its obligations under the treaties made with the Syndicate government on Prime,” President Iceni was saying. “However, since we are now an independent star system, there will be a need to renegotiate agreements. I assure you that we seek agreements that will mutually benefit us and the Alliance and do not anticipate any problems reaching such agreements. For the people, Iceni, out.”

He should let Rione deal with this, but there were still fleet matters to address. Geary straightened his uniform and tapped the reply command. “This is Admiral Geary. I will leave negotiations on such matters to the two emissaries of the Alliance government we have with us. They will be contacting you soon for that purpose. Of immediate concern, my auxiliaries are very low on raw materials. I would like your agreement for them to mine some of the asteroids in this star system for such materials so that we can begin to repair the battle damage suffered here.”

The damage hadn’t all been suffered here, of course, but he figured it didn’t hurt to toss in a not-so-subtle reminder that his fleet had suffered damage and losses defending those he was now asking a favor of.

“Please pass on to Kommodor Marphissa,” Geary continued, “my personal appreciation for the efforts of her and her ships in working with us for the defense of this star system. They fought well.” He had been trying hard to think of Marphissa as someone other than a Syndic, and someone other than a Syndic would have received such a thanks from him. “To the honor of our ancestors, Geary, out.”

Another message now. “Captain Smythe, I am anticipating a positive reply to our request for access to raw materials here. Prepare for mining operations and head your ships toward the asteroids you want to dig in.”

For some unknown reason, the spider-wolf ships had been following his auxiliaries around since the battle, occasionally engaging in intricate maneuvering with themselves or even among the human ships. The fleet’s personnel had begun referring to those movements as dances. Their purpose or meaning for the spider-wolves remained a mystery, but at least for the humans, the dances were benefiting morale. Since the spider-wolves had managed the impossible feat of deflecting a kinetic bombardment aimed at a human planet, they had become welcome visitors rather than objects of puzzlement and worry.

No one seemed to be using the term “Bub” anymore. Instead, Geary heard repeated references to “the Dancers.” The tone of voice in such cases was always admiring or approving. He had been able to discourage but not eliminate the use of Bub to describe the spider-wolves, but now the spider-wolves’ own actions had earned them the respectful name of Dancers.

Geary slumped back as he finished his message to Smythe, wishing that he could have grabbed a little more sleep before his responsibilities had called him back to the bridge.

“No rest for the weary?” Rione asked.

“Apparently not. Now what?”

“Our currently favorite Syndic CEO has finally decided to do us the kindness of communicating with us.”

“That’s just wonderful.” Geary sat up straighter, blinking away fatigue. “How bad is it?”

“I haven’t seen it yet. It’s addressed to you. But it ought to be good,” Rione remarked.

CEO Boyens looked much like he had when they had last seen him as they released their high-ranking prisoner with the war over. Then he had been appropriately solemn, but now Boyens smiled in the practiced, polished, and perceptibly insincere manner that must be part of the Syndicate Worlds’ CEO-training pipeline. Then, as if realizing that his audience could read that gesture for what it was, Boyens tried to shift the smile to something approximating sincerity.

“Why do I feel like he’s trying to pick me up in a bar?” Desjani asked.

“Is that what it looks like?” Geary said.

“Sort of. It never worked on me when I was buzzed, so it sure as hell isn’t going to work when I’m sober. Are you trying to claim that nobody’s ever hit on you in a bar?”

“I don’t think I should answer that.” He fell silent as Boyens began to speak in earnest tones.

“Admiral Geary, I am immensely grateful for your assistance in once again defending this star system against aggression by the enigma race. On behalf of the government of the Syndicate Worlds, I offer my thanks to you.”

“Thanks to you,” Desjani muttered. “Not to the Alliance or to this fleet, to you.”

He might have missed that significant distinction if Tanya hadn’t pointed it out, so now Geary listened even more critically as Boyens went on.

“Admiral, now that you’ve completed your work here, I will be happy to detach one of my mobile forces’ units to escort you through Syndicate Worlds’ space and back to Alliance space. I am certain that you cannot wait to return home.”

Desjani laughed softly. “Don’t let the door hit you on the way out, our friends and allies. I’d rather deal with the Kicks.”

“Naturally,” Boyens continued, “you’ll want to proceed home via Prime in order to update the peace treaty to reflect current realities and share any information that would be of interest to the entire human race. If some of the ships with you are ambassadors of some sort, they will, of course, want to stop at Prime on their way to Alliance space. I have some business to conclude here, then will follow you, eager to learn everything that your explorations have contributed to human knowledge of the universe. For the people, Boyens, out.”

That was simply too outrageous. Geary managed to keep his voice level as he hit the reply command. “Thank you for your offer,” he began without any polite preamble. “The Alliance fleet is always prepared to repel aggression.” Let Boyens, and his superiors at Prime, read anything they wanted into that. “However, our work here is not yet entirely complete. We have some discussions under way with local authorities.” That would give Boyens something else to think about. “Just as your forces did not play any role in the defense of this star system, we will also not require any of your forces to assist in our movements. As you may have noticed, we are already ourselves escorting other ships to Alliance space and will choose our own path back. Our guests have expressed the wish to be escorted directly to Alliance authorities, and we will be honoring their wishes.”

Rione stepped into the image beside Geary as smoothly as if the move had been practiced beforehand. “As you are aware, CEO Boyens, the peace treaty does not restrict the exact route we must use when traveling to and from the Midway Star System. Nor does it restrict our time here. As Emissary of the Alliance, I thank you for your offer of assistance and wish you a pleasant return journey to Prime. To the honor of our ancestors, Rione, out.”

As the reply cut off, she turned an apologetic face to Geary. “You were done speaking to him, weren’t you?”

“I certainly was.”

One hour later, they received a message in which a gracious Iceni granted Geary free access to asteroids in the star system for mining, asking only that the Alliance auxiliaries coordinate their activity with the local “space-resource-extraction authorities.”

Less than an hour after that, another message from the planet came in marked eyes only, private, for Admiral Geary. He went down to his stateroom to view it, wondering what this could concern.

The message was from General Drakon, this time sitting alone, looking ahead and speaking without any pretense. “I am asking a personal favor, Admiral Geary. I understand that you have no reason to grant that to a former enemy. However, the favor is not for me, but for one of my subordinates. Colonel Rogero is one of my most highly trusted and highly regarded officers. He has asked me to see if the attached message can be delivered to one of your subordinate officers. In light of his loyal service to me and as one professional to another, I am requesting that you forward the message to its intended recipient. In case any question arises, President Iceni is aware of this communication and the contents of the attached message and has no objections to either. I will answer any questions you have regarding this matter if you communicate them to me.”

Drakon paused, his eyes looking outward as if he could actually see Geary. “I’m glad we never met in battle during the war, Admiral. I’m not at all sure I would have survived that experience, though I would have given you the fight of your life before it was over. For the people, Drakon, out.”

Geary replayed that last part again, listening intently. General Drakon didn’t put the enthusiastic lilt to the “for the people” phrase that Kommodor Marphissa had, but there was nonetheless something more than an automatic use of a meaningless phrase there. Geary thought he sensed a defiance, a determination, as if Drakon was actually willing to defend the ideals behind that saying, ideals long since forgotten by the Syndicate Worlds’ government, if they had ever held any real substance at all to most Syndic leaders.

He turned back to the attachment. A message from one of the former Syndic officers to one of Geary’s officers? He knew who it would be addressed to before he looked at it. Captain Bradamont.

There were difficult things he had to do as an officer, as a fleet commander, but reading a personal message between two people felt like one of the most unpleasant obligations he faced. Wincing inwardly, Geary opened the attachment, knowing that the fleet’s firewalls and security software would have already checked it for dangerous content.

Colonel Rogero wore a uniform similar to General Drakon’s. He seemed as straightforward as his general though speaking steadily as if reciting from a script or prepared speech. “For Captain Bradamont, commanding officer of the Alliance battle cruiser Dragon, this is Colonel Rogero, Midway ground forces. Much has happened in recent months.”

Rogero provided a careful rundown of those events, giving details about activity not only here at Midway but also in some of the surrounding star systems. There had been fighting in many places, revolts and Syndic attempts to suppress rebellion. Midway had gotten heavily involved in those nearby star systems, plainly aiming for a leading role in… what? A small personal empire for Iceni and Drakon? Or, at the other extreme, a small alliance of free star systems? That last seemed very unlikely, but if it were true…

If only he knew more about Iceni and Drakon.

Rogero must have known that this message would be seen by people other than Bradamont. Drakon and Iceni must have known that, too. This was, then, not just a personal accommodation for Rogero but also a means to pass information to Geary under the cover of that.

Which also meant that Rogero’s and Bradamont’s personal feelings for each other were still being used by those in authority over them. Perhaps, to former Syndic CEOs like Drakon and Iceni, that was a matter of no consequence. But Geary felt a little unclean despite his own lack of involvement.

Colonel Rogero paused, his carefully controlled manner cracking. “Captain Bradamont… I must inform you that… my feelings will never change. That is why I must ask you to forget me, because it is impossible and can only harm you. I am now free of the forces that sought to use our feelings for their own purposes. I hope that, with the end of the war, you are free as well. But, if not, you may inform those people that I will provide no more reports. You can no longer serve them as a source of information. You have acted as a patriot and noble person at all times, and I will freely offer a detailed, official statement to anyone who questions your role over the last several years.

“Farewell, Captain Bradamont.”

Geary sat back, one hand rubbing his forehead lightly. What Rogero had said confirmed what Bradamont had told him and what Lieutenant Iger had partially confirmed as well. As far as Geary knew, though, Iger wasn’t aware that Bradamont was the officer who had been working for Alliance intelligence under the code name White Witch as part of a highly classified program. Once Iger saw this message, that particular rabbit would be out of the hat for certain.

“Captain Bradamont, I need to speak with you privately as soon as possible.”

Her image appeared to him within minutes, standing at attention. Dragon was close enough to Dauntless that only a little more than a light-second’s delay affected their communications, a lag too small to notice.

“Captain Bradamont,” Geary began, feeling awkward. “This is both a personal and a professional matter. Please sit down.”

Bradamont sat stiffly, watching him warily. “Does this pertain to the matter we discussed some time ago?”

“Everything surrounding White Witch, yes.” Geary offered her his comm pad, putting it on the arm of her seat and activating the message. “This message is for you, even though parts of it were also clearly intended for other people here.”

She listened while he tried not to watch her reaction. Finally, Bradamont reached as if to turn off the pad, forgetting that her virtual presence couldn’t do that, then withdrew her arm, her expression now revealing nothing. “Thank you, Admiral.”

He shut it off. “Is there anything you want to tell me?”

“I’ve already informed you of the circumstances, Admiral.”

“Do you have any wishes in this matter? At the very least, I can ensure that a reply is sent, in whatever form you choose.”

“A reply.” Bradamont shook her head. “What can I say? He’s right. It must end. It has ended. Neither of us can be used anymore. The contents of that message will alert the fleet’s intelligence personnel as to who I must be. I’ll have to live with that. I’ve lived with worse things. I must live without him.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I know you are, Admiral. I don’t know why this had to happen. I didn’t ask for it. I know that you can understand.”

“Is there anything I can do?”

Bradamont’s smile was bitter. “Not even Black Jack can solve this matter, Admiral. Why the hell—” Bradamont stopped speaking. “Pardon me, sir.”

“Forget it. I’m going to wait awhile before I forward this attachment to intelligence or show it to anyone else. If you want to talk, call me.”

“Yes, Admiral.” Bradamont came to attention again. “Thank you.”

Barely half an hour later his hatch alert chimed. “Come in.”

Rione entered, walking in as if she owned the place, went to a seat, and dropped into it. “I had a thought that I wished to share,” she began.

He watched her warily, wondering why Rione seemed so casually cheerful. She hadn’t acted that way since she had rejoined the fleet at the start of this mission. “And what would that be?”

“Wouldn’t it be of great benefit to the Alliance to have an officer assigned to duty here long term? In this star system? What do you call it, a liaison officer?”

Now what was Rione up to? “A liaison officer. Left here.”

“Right.” Rione paused as if thinking. “Of course, that officer would have to be relatively senior given the importance of the assignment, and given the suspicions between our people and those here, it would be very helpful if she already had some sort of liaison among them.”

“Liaison?”

“A personal relationship. Perhaps with one of their officers. I know that’s a crazy idea, but—”

“How the hell did you break into my conferencing software this time?” Geary demanded.

“In any event,” Rione continued, as if he hadn’t spoken, “you’d have to find someone willing to accept official orders to remain here. Someone who knows the Syndics well enough to spot some of their tricks because even though these Syndics have changed their spots, they still doubtless play the same games.”

“Official orders?” Was she actually helping?

“The Alliance needs someone to keep an eye on things,” Rione said, studying her fingernails as she spoke. “Someone who can offer guidance to these people on proper military and governmental relationships. Someone who can perhaps suggest democratic reforms.” She cocked her head sideways as if a thought had just occurred to her. “Perhaps even a little advice on how to fight battles if the defenders of this star system needed it.”

“You’re suggesting the perfect solution to both my problem for offering support to this star system, and to Captain Bradamont’s personal problem. Why?”

Rione frowned in thought. “It could be my inner compassionate nature asserting itself.”

“It doesn’t do that very often,” Geary observed. “Especially not lately.”

“Then maybe my inner bitch, which doesn’t differ too much from my outer bitch, wants to ruin the plans of certain parties back in Alliance space.” Rione met his eyes. “A fleet officer who communicated with the enemy after she was liberated from being a Syndic prisoner of war? Who passed information to the enemy? To an enemy officer for whom she had personal feelings? Think of the possibilities if a leak of that information was threatened.”

Geary leaned toward her, his voice hardening as he spoke. “If you’re aware of that much, then you also know that those communications were at the orders of military intelligence to pass false information to the Syndics.”

“Yes, Admiral, I know that, too. I also know that people can be blackmailed, especially if the matter involved is classified so that those who actually know extenuating information aren’t allowed to speak.”

He sat back, wondering that he could still be shocked. “Someone is blackmailing Bradamont? You know that?”

“Yes. I do know,” Rione replied in a low voice, her eyes on her fingernails again. “Or, rather, someone is prepared to blackmail her. It’s all ready to go. Hints have been dropped to Bradamont, vague warnings of what might happen if certain things became widely known.”

That explained some of the stress he had seen in Bradamont. “Why?”

“To force her to spy again, this time against someone other than the Syndics, someone who might occupy this very stateroom, and perhaps even to force her into actions that she would not otherwise ever agree to.”

Geary had to pause awhile to absorb that, then to fight down the anger that arose inside him at the thought of such tactics. “Captain Bradamont was given command of Dragon before I was found.”

Rione raised one eyebrow toward him. “Do you think that you’re the only possible target of such spying and sabotage? The virtue of such a weapon put into place is that it can be employed against whatever target is deemed necessary. If you had never been found, and if Admiral Bloch had lived, he would have been the target.”

“And what would have happened to the weapon?”

“Weapons, by their nature,” Rione said, “are expendable.” Her tone of voice, flat and hard, made it clear what she thought of such an approach.

“If I judge Bradamont right, she wouldn’t give in to that blackmail,” Geary said.

“And you’d lose a battle cruiser commander.”

“One way or the other.” Recalled by the government, ordered relieved of command by fleet staff until the “allegations” were investigated, charges leaked to the media so that her name was dragged through the mud, perhaps even driven to an “honorable” suicide by the contempt and anger of her fellow officers. “You’re not just helping Captain Bradamont’s love life. You’re saving her life and her honor.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Rione said. “I’m protecting the Alliance and my own interests. Any collateral impact on this Bradamont person is purely coincidental.”

“Why didn’t you tell me about this before?”

“For whatever reason, those involved didn’t try to employ her before you left Varandal. Once we left Alliance space, there couldn’t have been any attempt to blackmail her into cooperation without my knowledge.”

That was important information. “Some of these people are within the fleet?”

“I don’t know for certain. I do know that I haven’t heard from them. You… have guessed that I’m being blackmailed to do certain things, and that I’m doing them only to the extent I must and not in any way that will actually threaten you or the Alliance. Draw your own conclusions. If this Bradamont had received the blackmail threat while we were outside of Alliance space, I would have known, and you would have heard about it then. Contrary to popular belief, there are methods that I will not countenance.”

He couldn’t help smiling at her. “And, contrary to popular belief, you do have a heart.”

“That is a lie, Admiral. I would thank you not to spread it though I doubt anyone would believe you if you tried.” Rione stood up. “If my husband recovers, it will be thanks to you. Do you think me so cold that I would not be aware of the debt I owe you for that? Call Bradamont, offer her the position. I guarantee you that both of the Emissaries of the Alliance government will approve of the posting of a liaison officer here, which truly is in the interests of the Alliance.”

She left without saying anything else, the hatch sealing in her wake.

Geary thought about it for another five minutes, then reached for his comm panel. “Captain Bradamont. I must speak with you privately again.” He would make the offer, and if she accepted, everyone would win. Everyone except those who sought to use blackmail, and they never deserved to win.

It took a while, but this time Boyens responded to their message. His smile was still present and not quite sincere-looking, but also definitely strained. “I am very sorry to have to remind Admiral Geary and the representatives of the Alliance government that the treaty between your government and the government of the Syndicate Worlds authorizes your ships to travel to and from Midway Star System. It does not authorize or allow the movement of ships belonging to other governments or… species. There is an alien warship with you. That is not an Alliance vessel, and it is not covered by the treaty. In light of my responsibilities as a citizen of the Syndicate Worlds, I must insist that you bring any craft belonging to anyone other than the Alliance to Prime, where my government can decide on the appropriate disposition of those craft.

“My flotilla will remain in place near the hypernet gate. It would be a tragedy if something should happen to that gate as a result of negligence or aggression.

“For the people, Boyens, out.”

“Does he actually think we’d hand over the spider-wolf delegation and the bear-cow superbattleship to the Syndicate Worlds?” Charban asked with astonishment.

“It’s called diplomacy,” Rione said. “He’s making an outrageous demand hoping that we will compromise with a deal that still grants the Syndicate Worlds something. And, as I thought, he is trying to hold the hypernet gate here hostage to our giving in to his demands. Admiral, I am not a specialist in space law, but am I correct in assuming that the bear-cow superbattleship is now the property of the Alliance?”

“You are correct,” Geary said. “We captured it by force of arms. It is ours. We’ve got a crew aboard it. And she has a name. Invincible.”

“And is Invincible different from the other ships of this fleet in any way other than construction?”

“No. I give orders, and the officer in command of Invincible, Admiral Lagemann, obeys those orders. Invincible was part of our formation during the battle, taking damage alongside the other ships.”

“Excellent,” Rione said. “And the ships of the spider-wolves are not ours. In no way are they ours. If I may, Admiral, I will be happy to send an official reply to CEO Boyens and the Syndicate Worlds’ government regarding the latest proposition we have received.”

“Feel free,” Geary said. “I’m afraid my own diplomatic skills aren’t up to the task of answering that message in the appropriate manner.”

Rione sounded completely professional and looked completely immovable as she sent the reply. “Unfortunately, CEO Boyens, we are not in a position to comply with your request regarding the six ships that are accompanying us back to Alliance space. The inhabitants of those craft are not under our control, and we cannot compel them on your behalf or anyone else’s. They have expressed the wish to remain with our fleet, and we have been more than happy to accede to that request. However”—and here Rione smiled so coldly that Geary felt a chill—“we have promised to defend them. If anyone else should attempt to compel them or force them to take any actions, we will be forced by our commitments and our honor to defend them to the limits of our abilities, taking any action necessary to ensure they remain safe.

“As for the craft you refer to as an ‘alien warship,’ I must inform you that this warship is in fact a vessel of this fleet, named the Invincible, crewed by members of the Alliance military forces and responding to commands by Admiral Geary. It is not legally different in any way from any other warship in this fleet. Naturally, any demand that we surrender an Alliance warship to control of the Syndicate Worlds’ government is beyond absurd, contrary to the peace treaty governing your actions and ours, and cannot be taken seriously.

“We are grateful that you are concerned for the physical security of the hypernet gate here. Especially since the authorities in this star system have granted the Alliance partial ownership of that gate. Since it is now partially Alliance property, any damage inflicted upon it would constitute an attack on the Alliance, bringing on a state of war between the Alliance and whichever government owned the warships that launched such an attack.

“I once again wish you a pleasant journey back to Prime. Please do not linger in this star system on our account, as we would find it difficult to leave if you remained here. To the honor of our ancestors, Rione, out.”

Geary stared at Rione. “They gave us part of the hypernet gate? Iceni and Drakon?”

“I suggested it,” Rione said with more than a trace of smugness, “pointing out the benefits that would have for them as well as us, and they have already agreed.”

“I’m glad you’re on our side, Emissary Rione.”

“Iceni and Drakon have definitely been expanding their influence outside this star system,” Lieutenant Iger reported. “There have even been offensive operations despite their limited military capability. If that capability grows, they may actually attempt to expand their control by conquest of neighboring star systems.”

“But Syndic authority in those neighboring star systems is either going or gone,” Geary said. “There has been major fighting in some of them. This star system appears to be the most stable in the region. Have you found evidence that repressive Syndic practices are being used by the new regime at Midway?”

Iger made a frustrated gesture. “It’s hard to tell, Admiral. Almost everything we know has to be drawn from the sources we can tap remotely, like news-media broadcasts, and those things are controllable. A dictatorial regime can ensure that nothing gets reported unless they want it to be reported. That said, there is a lot more media activity than normal for a Syndic-controlled star system. Since the last time we were here, there are many more media organizations and individuals reporting on events and offering opinions. That argues for a loosening of controls over society. But that could also be camouflage, a smoke screen of apparently independent voices to produce the impression of a freer society.”

“Have you found out anything more about the records of either Iceni or Drakon?”

“Just fragmentary mentions in our database, Admiral. Drakon has been a front-line ground-forces officer, so we have a number of appearances of his name in intercepted communications, but the last of those was a few years ago. After that, there is no mention of him among forces fighting us, so the assessment in our files was that he had either died or committed some political offense and been internally exiled or imprisoned in a Syndic labor camp.”

Iger’s words reminded Geary of something. “Boyens told us that he had been internally exiled to the flotilla guarding Midway. He said Midway was where people in disfavor were sent because it was so far from any opportunity to influence events elsewhere or regain favor with Syndicate rulers.”

“Yes, sir. That may well be why Drakon is here, but if so, we don’t know why he was exiled.”

“And Iceni?”

“Nothing except two citations of her while she was commanding Syndicate Worlds’ flotillas. She seems to have spent most of her time in other kinds of assignments, though.”

“But she was also sent to Midway.” Geary nodded as much to himself as to Lieutenant Iger, thinking of how Iceni had refused evacuation during the first enigma attack, instead staying among those of her subordinates and the civil population who couldn’t be withdrawn before the attack. With so little known of her, he had to regard that act of un-Syndic-like concern for those working for her as a sign of Iceni’s nature. “Has Captain Bradamont been briefed on everything as I directed?”

“Yes, sir,” Iger replied, his discomfort clear. “Admiral, if Captain Bradamont was involved in compartmented intelligence activity under the White Witch code name…” He trailed off, searching for the right words.

“I know about that,” Geary said. “Since she has served as a source before this, intelligence surely won’t object to her in a post where she can report on what is actually happening in this star system.”

“That… is true, sir, but I do feel obligated to warn you that the intelligence staff at fleet headquarters may not agree with your decision.”

“Thank you, Lieutenant. I’m sure if they disapprove, they’ll let me know.” They couldn’t do that until the fleet returned to Alliance space, of course, and not until various reports had made their way to various authorities.

Having covered all of his bases internally, and having done what checking he could on the nature of Iceni, Drakon, and their regime here, it was time to bring up two critical matters with the rulers of Midway.

Geary composed himself, then activated the message transmission.

“President Iceni, General Drakon, I have two matters I need to place before you,” Geary said in his most formal voice. He was seated at the nicest desk Dauntless offered, wearing his best uniform, his appearance having been approved by Tanya Desjani only after she had inspected him as carefully as if he were a new recruit and she a boot-camp drill instructor.

“First of all, President Iceni, I have to inform you that while in space controlled by the enigma race, we were able to locate and free some humans who had been kept prisoner by the enigmas, apparently for study. All of them, except those born in captivity, originated from Syndicate Worlds’ colonies or ships. All have been checked as thoroughly as possible, and no signs of biological or other contamination or threat has been found.” It had been hard to make the decision to tell Iceni and Drakon about those people, but in the end he could not justify keeping from their homes people who had been denied that comfort by imprisonment for too long.

Geary took a deep breath. “It is important for me to emphasize that none of them know anything about the enigmas. They were sealed inside an asteroid and never even saw any of their captors. They can tell no one anything about the enigmas. They have all been impacted mentally, physically, and emotionally by their long imprisonment. Given their condition, I intend taking the majority of them back to Alliance space, where I can arrange care and transport back to their home star systems elsewhere in the Syndicate Worlds. However, three of the prisoners say they or their parents came from Taroa, and fifteen others say they came from this star system. Those eighteen wish to return home now. We want to accommodate those wishes, but I desire first to know whatever else you can tell me about conditions at Taroa, and second to know your intentions toward the fifteen who come from Midway. I feel an obligation to see that they are treated well now that they have been freed.”

He paused. “The second matter concerns formalizing our relationship with the new government of Midway. I am proposing to assign a senior Alliance officer here to represent the Alliance, to make plain our commitment to your star system, and to render whatever advice or assistance you might ask for in matters of defense and in your transition to a freer form of government. The officer whom I propose to assign here is Captain Bradamont, who has been serving as commanding officer of the battle cruiser Dragon. She is an excellent officer, and because she was at one point a prisoner of war, she has had some prior contact with Syndicate Worlds’ officers and can work with them. Captain Bradamont has already agreed to this official posting, but I require your consent for such an assignment, which I think will be to the benefit of everyone involved. The emissaries of the Alliance government accompanying this fleet have already approved the posting of Captain Bradamont here, so all we require is the acceptance of your government.

“I await your reply on both of these matters. To the honor of our ancestors, Geary, out.”

He didn’t often wish that he were present when a message was received at the other end, but this time he did think it would be interesting to watch the reactions of Iceni and Drakon.

As for how Colonel Rogero might react…

By the time they heard back from CEO Boyens again, the Alliance auxiliaries were busy mining raw materials off several large asteroids and converting the raw materials into new fuel cells and parts almost as fast as they could be dumped into the bunkers. The Alliance fleet was concentrated into a single formation, swinging in orbit about the star Midway, as everyone once again focused on repairs as a result of battle damage or systems simply wearing out as they exceeded their designed life spans.

Geary had been going over the reports on his battleships. He hadn’t lost any battleships, but the line between “lost” and “beat to hell” seemed to be growing thinner and thinner. Some of his battleships were so badly hit that they were barely combat capable, and a few others shouldn’t really be risked in combat again until they could get major repair work in a fleet dock.

And then there was Invincible, which though very hard to kill, certainly deserved the term “threat magnet.” Until he got that former bear-cow superbattleship back to Alliance space it would attract every possible attacker, all eager to find out what bear-cow technology might be learned from the ship. He had a nasty suspicion that the Syndic government itself might try something with their now-very-limited resources, given the unparalleled value of Invincible to anyone who could get their hands on her.

The spider-wolves seemed more than capable of looking out for themselves, but accidents could happen, and an encounter with a drifting mine or similar hazard might be very hard to explain when conversations were still limited to simple concepts. And from experience and the reports about star systems near Midway, some of the people in Syndic space who were inheriting pieces of the former Syndic military as the Syndicate Worlds fell apart were far from trustworthy or predictable in what they might do. A group of fanatics might try a surprise attack, especially since Geary couldn’t keep the spider-wolf ships safely nestled within a screen of his own warships. The spider-wolves, the Dancers, went where they wanted to go.

All of which meant that Geary wasn’t in a particularly receptive mood when the latest message from Boyens came in.

CEO Boyens didn’t seem to be in a particular receptive mood, either. He was openly glaring now, not trying to hide his unhappiness, not bothering with false gestures of camaraderie. “I am unfortunately constrained by the peace treaty that exists between the Syndicate Worlds and the Alliance, though it seems only the Syndicate Worlds is truly interested in honoring the letter and spirit of that treaty. Therefore, I cannot take the actions I wish to take to defend the Syndicate Worlds and its citizens from the overbearing arrogance of a foreign military force.”

Geary had asked Desjani to view this one with him and the emissaries, and she seemed about to collapse from mirth. “Oh, feel free to try to defend it against us. Please try.”

“Your journey home may not be as smooth as you anticipate,” Boyens continued. “Since you have declined my offers of assistance, I won’t bother providing any information I may have access to that might smooth your trip. However, I will pass on one item that I think you will find of great interest.”

Boyens paused, plainly enjoying the anticipation he expected his audience to feel when they viewed this message. “You will doubtless be overjoyed to learn that one of your comrades, an officer, did not die as you thought during one of the battles in the Syndicate Worlds’ home star system.”

Michael? Is my grandnephew still alive? Did he survive the destruction of Repulse? Geary didn’t know whether his heart had truly stopped for a moment or if he had imagined feeling such a thing.

He felt pressure and looked down to see that Tanya had reached across and tightly gripped one of his hands, her expression anxious.

And then CEO Boyens, who might have guessed the sort of hopes his statement had raised, smiled. “Yes, more than one officer who was thought to have died in that battle still lives and is being sent home to the Alliance as we speak. Their ship left Prime before my flotilla came here.”

Wait a minute…

“Why would he be telling us good news?” Desjani muttered, her grip tightening on Geary’s hand as she voiced his own dawning suspicion.

Rione was by his other side, her face harsh. “More than one officer?”

“Do you know who he means?” Geary asked.

“I wish you an interesting journey back to Alliance space,” Boyens said. “And I guarantee you will find interesting things happening in the Alliance upon your return. For the people, Boyens, out.”

Desjani uttered a curse under her breath.

“The new Executive Council of the Syndicate Worlds,” Rione said, her voice hard, “is interfering in Alliance space. Just like the old Executive Council before the war began.”

“What are they doing?” Geary asked.

“Your guess is as good as mine. Senator Navarro provided me with some of his suspicions before we left. He suspected Syndic meddling in Alliance politics, economic sabotage, and stirring up dissent wherever possible. Navarro had no proof, but in his willingness to bait you, CEO Boyens has given us the clearest confirmation about what the remnants of the Syndicate Worlds are up to. The Syndics have lost the war, but they don’t intend to let the Alliance enjoy the peace.”

“Which officer survived?” Geary asked again.

“Perhaps the one you hope for,” Rione answered obliquely, “but there have been rumors that some of the executions we saw were faked.”

“Bloch?” Desjani demanded, shocked into speaking to Rione. “Admiral Bloch?”

“I have no more idea of the answer than you do. But it was someone that Boyens expected to cause trouble for us. Perhaps he’s just baiting us, trying to create as much anxiety in us as possible. Admiral, you know how shaky the Alliance is in the aftermath of the war. The war broke the Syndics, and it nearly broke us. There are those who for their own reasons would not hesitate to add a small push as the Alliance teeters on the edge of the abyss. How quickly can we get home?”

“I suspect not as fast as we thought,” Geary said. Was Admiral Bloch really still alive? There had been Alliance senators who had backed Bloch in the past, either through believing he was right or out of personal ambition. Or was Boyens just playing on their worst fears? “We can’t leave here without necessary repairs or we might lose more ships on the way home. And once we start back, Boyens implied that some roadblocks have been thrown up.”

“They want Invincible,” Desjani said. “They might want it badly enough to try something while we’re on our way back. And we need to make sure the Dancers don’t suffer any ‘accidents’ while they’re in space within Syndic reach.”

A playing board that already had too many players, many of them hidden, had just acquired more pieces, which might upset a lot of strategies and possibly the Alliance itself.