Shattered Spear

Chapter Ten

Colonel Bran Malin stood silently in a slice of shadow just large enough to cover him, trying not to move and breathing as shallowly as possible to avoid giving off any signs that someone could spot. The city was unusually active this late at night, but there were still many areas where silence and stillness reigned.

President Iceni had told him to take the night off without explaining why, but it had not been difficult to find out that General Drakon was to be her guest this evening. Malin had long wanted to encourage such a relationship, but had been at a loss for how to do so. He knew that physical intimacy by itself was unlikely to produce any good results, and that in theory a strong relationship between Drakon and Iceni would involve emotional ties and intimacy.

In theory. Malin gazed into the darkness, remembering the woman who had raised him as her own. She had loved him, and he had thought he loved her in return. But then he had learned of his real mother and sought her out. Roh Morgan. A woman who knew a great deal about anger and pain, but seemingly nothing about any softer emotions except as tools to wield against the targets of her plans. And Malin had found he had a natural skill at the same sort of machinations. Inherited, apparently, along with who knew what else.

He had walled off his feelings as much as possible, trying to bend his work toward some greater goal that might prove he had overcome his mother’s legacy. There was an irony in the fact that both he and Morgan had fixed on Drakon as the means to achieve their ends, though those ends differed hugely.

Was she dead? Malin stayed motionless, gazing into the night, wondering why he felt a conviction that Morgan had somehow survived the destruction of the snake alternate headquarters on Ulindi.

Neither Drakon nor Iceni trusted him as much as they once had, but that was fine. It wasn’t about him. What mattered was that the two former CEOs seemed to have finally reached out to each other in a way that should help preserve this experiment at Midway, this attempt to build a government and a society that were both strong and free.

Malin inhaled slowly and deeply, repeating in his mind a mantra he had recited countless times. I have been a slave to my past, but I will free myself by freeing others from their pasts.

His instruments registered a flicker of motion in an area half a block down and to the left, an area that should be empty at this time of night. Malin moved like a wraith through the darkness, determined that this time he would run his quarry to earth.

Move. Hide. Pause. Move. His prey was moving with great care as well. Did the prey know of the hunt this time? Probably not. There had been no moves so easy to spot that they were obviously intended to draw Malin on. And though the path his prey wended through the dark areas of the city veered in direction to remain well concealed, that path kept coming back to a course centered on the region near the main spaceport.

A rat skittered away through the trash, causing Malin to freeze once more while waiting to see if the movement had attracted attention. Part of him mentally noted the state of this back alley and the need to direct that those responsible clean it up, while another part wondered at the absurdity of being concerned about trash in an alley while engaged in a deadly pursuit, and yet a third part pondered the symbolism of the fact that humanity had brought rats to the stars.

And, somewhere inside, part of Malin wondered if Morgan had experienced those kinds of complex, cascading thought streams. It had always been impossible to ask her, and the question might have led Morgan into a line of investigation that would have had her discovering that Malin was her son. Morgan’s reaction to that might have rivaled a nova in its destructive fury.

Malin moved cautiously again as he spotted more traces of his quarry on his sensor readouts. Still tending toward the spaceport. Interesting. Were more snake agents expected, slipping in among cargo shipments and passengers?

But as he neared the spaceport itself, Malin gradually became aware of a third player in the stealthy pursuit. Somewhere, there off to his left, someone was pacing both him and his target. That someone moved like a ghost, the signs of their presence so subtle that Malin saw them as much by instinct as by indications on his sensors. Was the third party an ally of Malin’s quarry? Or another agent of Drakon’s or Iceni’s pursuing the same target as he? But Malin knew of no other agent with that level of skill.

The path finally led to a large warehouse near the security boundaries of the spaceport. The walls, lights, and defenses around the spaceport glowed with a riot of data on Malin’s sensors. He realized with grudging respect that this location had been chosen because the noise from those systems, as well as the fairly high levels of foot and vehicle traffic, helped mask those who did not want their presence noted.

A link using the highest level of security override disarmed the lock and alarm on one of the doors. Malin studied the pingback from that command, seeing that the security software had distinct signs of snake coding. Sloppy of them to leave that kind of clear sign, but snakes sometimes underestimated the intelligence and capabilities of their opponents, or were so rushed in carrying out a command that corners were cut.

He glided inside the warehouse, every sense alert and every sensor built into his clothing at maximum sensitivity. Cargo containers were stacked in neat rows, each container bearing security stamps from dozens of star systems.

The barest noise reached Malin, something out of place in this warehouse. His weapon in hand, Malin ceased moving and crouched next to a stack of cargo containers.

He waited. Often, in this kind of life-and-death game, waiting was a winning tactic. Someone would get impatient. Someone would move. The one who waited as if turned to stone would eventually see the one who could not wait long enough.

Whoever else was in here was not linked in to the city’s official security software as warehouse guards or police would be. It was always possible that they were nonetheless innocent of any crime, but Malin waited with grim resolve, willing to kill the innocent if necessary to ensure he got the guilty. President Iceni would not approve. Neither would General Drakon. Which was why Malin took the burden of the action on himself. He would pay any price demanded by fate for his actions, and spare the others that guilt.

There. Two of them, one covering the other as they eased through the warehouse, checking out each lane between rows of cargo containers. The warehouse security scanners should have spotted any intruders, but the searchers were smart enough to know that anyone who could get inside without triggering any alarms was also likely smart enough to have blinded the security scanners to his or her presence.

They were getting close. Malin tried to spot any other movement in the warehouse, but failed. Moving with glacial slowness, he lined up his pistol on the figure who was farthest from him. Then he waited some more.

The lead searcher, gliding closer and closer to Malin, suddenly made a tiny, betraying movement. He or she had spotted some indication of Malin.

Malin fired, slamming a shot directly into the searcher to the rear. The lead searcher, unaware that their companion had already been dropped, swung a weapon around rather than seeking shelter first. That gave Malin time to twitch his own weapon to one side and fire again.

The second searcher was still falling when another shot tore through the warehouse behind and to one side of Malin.

He dropped, rolled, and sprinted into a location that offered some cover from that direction, then paused, breathing slowly and deeply, straining his senses for signs of whoever had fired.

They were moving. Two of them. Racing from cover to cover, never exposing themselves for more than brief moments, not to pin down and kill Malin, but along the edge of the warehouse and then, before he could react, out into the streets beyond.

The warehouse felt dead now, no one present except Malin himself. He stood up and walked to the two he had shot, carefully checking over the bodies from a few meters away in case of booby traps they could be wearing that their deaths might have activated.

Finally getting to one of the bodies, Malin searched it carefully and dispassionately, moving gently because he didn’t want to trigger anything else and not out of respect for what was no longer a living foe. He found identification documents that looked completely legitimate but did not explain at all why this person had been in this warehouse at this time with a weapon. Malin felt sure this had been a snake agent, perhaps recently arrived, and that the other dead searcher was as well.

He called General Drakon’s security forces, not wanting to turn this matter over to the police who were still tainted by their long history enforcing Syndicate laws. The security specialists would sweep this warehouse and the bodies for any signs of who they really were, what their plans had been, and who else might be helping them.

While Malin waited, he searched for and found the impact point for the shot that someone else had fired. It had been nowhere near him or any line of sight to him. Turning and locating the spot where he had awaited the searchers, Malin could see that anyone who had been aiming from here would have had a clean shot at him. Someone else, then, had fired at a person who was about to shoot Malin. Then pursued that someone through and out of the warehouse.

He was still standing there, going over questions to which he had no answers, when Drakon’s security forces arrived. “See if there is any trace at all of anyone else having been in this building,” Malin ordered them, then headed back toward Iceni’s headquarters.

Drakon stifled a yawn, determined not to betray by any signs how little sleep he had had the night before. Before him, virtual windows showed his three brigade commanders, Colonels Kai, Safir, and Rogero. “That’s what we’re facing at Iwa,” Drakon concluded. “I want you to get with your best people and see if anyone can figure out how to take that alien base without it and everyone in our force getting blown to hell. Are there any questions?”

“We are to concentrate on attack scenarios?” Kai asked. “A long-term siege to starve out the enigmas is not on the table?”

“That’s correct,” Drakon said, not surprised that Kai had raised that question. Kai, slow and methodical, thought in defensive terms. Which could be a very useful mind-set in certain conditions. Just not this one. “We don’t have the luxury of that much time.”

The windows disappeared, leaving him alone, and Drakon did yawn this time. He cut the yawn short as a message came in from Colonel Malin outlining his activities of the night before. Attached was a summary of the results of the security search of the building where the fight had occurred. The two killed by Malin had both been wearing some special surveillance and security equipment that no one but a snake should possess, confirming their identities. But nothing on them or in the building offered any clues as to who their contacts were or what their mission had been. That wasn’t what bothered Drakon the most, though.

Drakon called Malin. “Why wasn’t I notified of this last night? You’re acting as the president’s aide right now, but you are still supposed to report security incidents to me directly as well as notifying President Iceni.”

“There was no need for immediate notification, General,” Malin replied. “The incident was over.”

“According to your report, two other unknown individuals were involved and escaped,” Drakon said. “That doesn’t sound like over to me.”

Malin paused before answering. “The snake site has been neutralized and shut down. The two unidentified individuals are a long-term issue, General. I will pursue that matter to its conclusion.”

“That’s not the point.”

“No, sir. I understand. I should have informed you immediately.”

It was only at that point that the real reason why Malin hadn’t informed him right away popped into Drakon’s head. He had been with Iceni last night, and Malin had interpreted that as a Do Not Disturb sign. “Colonel, I want it clearly understood that I should be informed of important developments at any time. That has not changed.”

“Yes, sir. In the future, I will do so.”

“Do you think one of those people you encountered was President Iceni’s former assistant Togo?”

Malin nodded with every sign of confidence. “I have no doubt that the one who was preparing to kill me was Togo, sir.”

“What about the other one? The one who apparently saved your life?”

This time Malin took several seconds to answer. “I have no idea, General. I was only aware of that second person for a few brief seconds, not enough time to form any impressions.”

“Yet, whoever it was, was better than you, and at least as good as Togo?” Drakon pressed.

Malin nodded again. “I realize that may narrow the list of possible suspects a great deal, sir.”

“Roh Morgan could have gotten back to this star system, and back onto this planet, without being spotted,” Drakon continued. “But if she is alive, and she did come back here, why is she hiding her presence?”

“I could only speculate, sir.”

“Then speculate, dammit!”

“Yes, sir.” Malin hesitated, a hint of distress crossing his features. “Colonel Morgan knows that her status in this unit has been compromised. Before she left for Ulindi, she was confined to quarters. If Colonel Morgan believes that she has some task to complete that revealing herself to you would hinder, then she would remain hidden from you in order to complete that task.”

“Why not at least drop me a message? If Morgan is trying to stay hidden, there’s no way anyone could find her.”

“Yes, sir,” Malin agreed. “But if you knew she was here, and you instituted a search for her, it might tip off her target.”

“You think she’s hunting Togo?”

“The events of last night would seem to imply that, General.”

Drakon leaned back, eyeing Malin. “So you think Morgan is hiding her presence from everyone because she thinks that’s the only way she could track down and nail Togo.” What had his last orders been to Morgan regarding Togo? He had told her more than once not to go after him, but had he ever modified that order in a way that Morgan could interpret as authorization to hunt Togo now? No. He was sure he had not allowed that sort of exception, not before Togo vanished while Drakon himself was still on Ulindi and unaware of the desertion of Iceni’s aide.

That must be why Morgan was staying hidden, if it was her. She was acting against his orders, and would expect him to tell her to stop. But, this time, Morgan didn’t want to stop. She thought Togo had to be taken out in order to protect Drakon, and she was going to do it without any interference by him.

But that still left a puzzling question. “Let’s say you’re right, that Morgan has been hiding that she’s still alive, and hiding her presence here because she wants to kill Togo. Why did she take that shot last night, then? If it was Morgan. Why did she take a shot that was likely to miss and alert her prey?”

“I don’t know, General,” Malin said, his expression harder than usual.

“Bran, you already admitted that shot saved your life.”

Malin shook his head. “Sir, that cannot have been the reason, if it was Colonel Morgan who fired. My life was never anything to her but a—” He choked off the words, his face rigid with unstated feelings.

Rubbing his forehead, Drakon looked away, trying to imagine once again how it would feel to discover that Roh Morgan was your mother. “I’m sorry, Bran. I didn’t mean to push you there.”

Malin, looking and sounding composed once more, nodded a single time. “It is not as if she ever knew, General. Not consciously, anyway.”

“Right.” She had felt something, though. It had been hate at first sight when Morgan met Malin. Morgan had treated most men, with the notable exception of Drakon himself, with amused contempt. But not Malin. He had pushed her buttons just by existing. Why, if it was her, had Morgan not let Malin die in that warehouse, then nailed Togo when he let his guard down, thinking he was safe? It would take reading Morgan’s mind to get an answer, and no one had ever proven good at that. And if she was pursuing Togo from deep undercover, that wasn’t a bad thing. In fact, if Morgan did show up now, Drakon would probably order her to do exactly what she was doing. If that was all that she was doing. “Let me know the moment you learn anything else about either of those two mystery people. And if, somehow, you establish contact with the second one and it turns out to be Colonel Morgan, tell her I urgently need to speak with her and will assure her of safe status if she contacts me.”

After ending that call, Drakon rubbed his face, straightened himself, then called Iceni. “Good morning, Gwen.”

She was in her own office, looking considerably more rested than he felt. Iceni smiled. “You already told me that a couple of hours ago.”

“I liked saying it,” Drakon admitted. “Have you seen Malin’s report?”

The smile was replaced with a businesslike expression. “I have. What is your take on it?”

“Three things, the first being the obvious that neither the Syndicate nor whoever is helping it have given up.” Both he and Iceni suspected that person aiding the Syndicate to be her former assistant Togo, but neither knew what Togo’s motives really were. Drakon didn’t want to bring up the next topic, but knew he had to. “The second is that the two people who escaped the warehouse could have been your former aide Togo and my former aide Colonel Morgan.”

Iceni gazed steadily back at him before replying. “She’s alive?”

“I don’t know. This incident tonight is the first thing I know of that might indicate Morgan is still alive.” The last person he wanted to talk about to Iceni was Morgan, especially after last night.

After several more seconds, Iceni nodded slowly. “You didn’t have to tell me your suspicions of who that second person was, Artur.”

“Yes, I did. I wouldn’t keep something like that from you.”

“Do you think Morgan is a danger to me?” Iceni asked coolly. “If she hears that you and I have become more than co-rulers of this star system?”

Drakon shook his head in reply. “No. She thinks that daughter of hers is going to become some sort of super warlord who will end up conquering every star system in what used to be the Syndicate Worlds. Morgan can play the long game very well. And, with one possible exception, she has always obeyed firm orders from me. One of those firm orders was not to harm you or let you be harmed.”

“Would that possible exception be her sleeping with you despite your clearly expressed orders that subordinates shouldn’t do that with superiors?” Iceni asked.

“That was my fault for getting so drunk,” Drakon said. “I should have said no. I didn’t.”

“I won’t belabor that point,” she said, “because I agree with you. However, there have been lasting consequences. Morgan’s daughter, wherever she is currently concealed, is not just hers. She is also your daughter.” Iceni waited to see how he would react.

Drakon bit his lip. “Yes. That’s true. Gwen, that baby girl hasn’t done anything. I can’t punish her for who her mother is. Or was, if Morgan is indeed dead.”

Iceni smiled slightly. “Did it ever occur to you that I might feel the same way? Oh, I don’t care for Morgan at all. And for a long time I didn’t care to think about you and her and the offspring that resulted. But you’ve owned up to your mistake, accepting full responsibility. What you say is true. None of us get to choose our parents, and none of us should be blamed for who those parents are. The stars above know that I have often sneered at the claims of those who consider themselves special because their parents are powerful and wealthy. It makes no sense for me to condemn that child because I don’t care for the mother.”

“Thank you, Gwen.” Drakon paused, trying to think what else to say.

“You said there were three things,” Iceni prompted.

“Oh, yeah. The last thing is that we should have been told right after the incident in the warehouse happened.”

“Agreed,” Iceni said. “Since under the Syndicate it is simply assumed that any CEO is sleeping around, I don’t understand why our subordinates felt a need to be so discreet. I’ve been trying to figure that out. But I think the problem will be solved if we openly acknowledge the relationship, even if we don’t formalize it.” She cocked her head slightly to one side and eyed him closely. “Do you have any objections to that?”

“You don’t?” Drakon asked. “I mean, you’re still interested? Even after talking about… ?”

“I could always change my mind if you hesitate too long or keep bringing up unpleasant subjects.” Iceni’s gaze on him grew more intense. “Do you have any objections?”

“To acknowledging the relationship or formalizing it?” Drakon asked.

“Take your pick.”

“No, I don’t have a problem with that.”

Iceni raised an eyebrow at him. “With acknowledging it or formalizing it?”

“Take your pick,” Drakon said, wondering how she would respond.

She laughed. “Serves me right after I teased you yesterday afternoon. I personally favor acknowledging the relationship, but holding off the formalities until we resolve the situation at Iwa.”

“That could take a while,” Drakon pointed out.

“I know. But I don’t think we need the distraction, and I don’t want anyone thinking we’ve rushed things because of a belief that I might not come back from Iwa.” Iceni paused, waiting for a response from him that did not come. “You’re not arguing with that? Are we agreed that I will need to accompany our forces to Iwa?”

Drakon nodded, feeling a heaviness inside. “You actually convinced me yesterday afternoon when you pointed out that you had sent me to Ulindi. It was necessary that I go there, but it must have been difficult for you. Seeing you off to Iwa will be hard, but I can’t expect a partner of mine to live by a different set of rules than I follow.”

She smiled again. “That’s why I remain interested in you. You keep passing your tests, General. I will admit to you that I won’t be thrilled to be going, but as you say necessity must rule our actions. Speaking of actions, there’s another decision coming up. Manticore will reach orbit around this world today and those three soldiers from Iwa will be shuttled down to here.” Iceni gave Drakon an inquiring look. “What are you going to do with the three soldiers?”

He shrugged. “Let my medical people check them out and fix them up, while my intelligence people find out everything they saw at Iwa and try to learn anything they might have observed but didn’t realize was important. Then do what I usually do. Security screen them, and if they pass ask if they want to join my forces. I have no idea from the Kommodor’s report whether any of those three are hard-core Syndicate, or have strong family ties that they wouldn’t want to imperil by joining us.”

Iceni looked pensive, putting her hand to her mouth and looking off to the side. “They were rescued from an enigma-controlled world. Black Jack’s fleet rescued humans from the enigmas, too. But now we have. That is going to give us important standing with everyone who hears of it.”

“I love it when you talk like that,” Drakon said, amused and relieved that the conversation had gone so well despite the need to talk about Morgan.

She gave him a sidelong look. “We have enough challenges facing us that we need to make use of every possible resource.”

“I was thinking about that,” Drakon said. “Every possible resource. What are you going to do with that heavy cruiser we just captured?”

“Something that big isn’t just my decision,” Iceni said. “You get a say even though this is a mobile forces unit. The obvious thing to do is to add it to our forces, and screen the surviving crew to see which ones we can trust. But…”

Drakon nodded. “What’s the hitch?”

“Money,” Iceni said. She spread her hands in the age-old gesture of helplessness. “We’ve had enough discussions about this, especially before mounting that operation to Ulindi. Midway is one star system. We’re not particularly wealthy, though thanks to the hypernet gate and transit fees on merchant ships using our many jump points we rake in more money than most star systems like ours. We’ve been collecting more warships, and using up expendable weapons and fuel cells, and recruiting crews, and…” She sighed. “In a perfect world we’d keep adding more warships until we matched Black Jack’s fleet. But money is getting tight. We can borrow, we can delay, but we have to think of the future as well as right now.”

It felt good to hear her talking about “we” and knowing that Iceni really meant it. “Are you thinking of scrapping that heavy cruiser because we can’t afford it?”

“No! It’s too valuable. But it will require a lot of repairs, and a crew that has to be paid. I haven’t decided.” Iceni waved one hand toward him. “What do you think?”

Drakon returned the gesture. “You brought this up before. If we can’t pay for it, why can’t we get someone else to pay for it?”

She laughed. “I don’t—You’re serious?”

“We handed a battle cruiser over to Taroa,” Drakon pointed out.

“A battle cruiser that was not even half-built,” Iceni protested. Then she fell silent as she considered Drakon’s words. “We’ve already reached out to surrounding star systems to form a tighter relationship for self-defense and trade. They’re concerned that we’re just going to use that as a step for eventually establishing full control over them by building a new, mini-Syndicate.”

“But,” Drakon said, “if we give one of them something as substantial as a heavy cruiser, even one that needs repairs…”

She nodded quickly. “I wasn’t actually ready to start offering warships to other star systems. Mentally, I know the importance of that. Emotionally, I still want every warship here at Midway that I can get my hands on. But you are right. And there are still some survivors of the Reserve Flotilla who haven’t found new jobs. Some of them would surely want to go to that heavy cruiser, no matter whether it ended up at Taroa, or Ulindi, or Kane, or— Who gets that cruiser, Artur?”

“Taroa.” Drakon leaned back and explained. “They’re finishing building that battle cruiser that the Syndicate started. According to the status reports that I’m getting, in another few months that battle cruiser will be well enough along that other people might decide it’s worth trying to steal it, or the Syndicate might get wind of it and decide to send in a small force to sabotage it if they can’t steal it. Taroa needs the heavy cruiser to protect the battle cruiser, until that battle cruiser can protect itself.”

She nodded to him, smiling. “I can’t find any flaws in that reasoning. Taroa is also, aside from Ulindi, the best positioned to actually be able to pay for repairing and operating that warship. As soon as the heavy cruiser is fixed up enough to safely jump to Taroa, we’ll gift it to them as a sign of our deep commitment to the security of neighboring star systems, and that we meant what we said to them. And you know what else, Artur?”

“What?”

“I just realized that during this whole conversation I never once found myself wondering what other game you might be playing, what cards you were holding back, or how you might be maneuvering to position yourself against me.”

He gazed at her, surprised to realize the same of himself. “Damn. Saves a lot of time when you’re not worried about a knife in the back, doesn’t it?”

Iceni’s smile broadened. “We’re going to do it, Artur. You and me. We’re going to beat the enigmas, and Imallye, and the Syndicate, and we are going to make this star system and those around it into something that will stand against every danger.”

He smiled back and nodded, trying not to show the fears he felt about her facing both the enigmas and Imallye at Iwa. “How about discussing it over dinner?”

“Yes,” she said. “I’d love to… discuss more with you tonight. Your heavily defended place or mine?”

The next morning, she and Drakon went together to the ground forces medical wards to see the three rescued soldiers. Iceni wanted to make it publicly clear that the relationship was not a one-night thing and that it was not considered a secret by either her or Drakon. She also wanted to see those soldiers.

The three had obviously benefited from the medically imposed sleep aboard Manticore as well as from all of the intravenous and regular nourishment that could safely be pumped into them. Their bodies showed substantial recovery from the hardships that the three had endured. But their eyes still held that trapped-animal look which would take longer to heal than the damage done to their bodies. “I want to thank you for a job well done, and assure you that you will be welcome in this star system should you pass the security screening,” Iceni told them.

The three, lying in three adjacent med units, stared at her with varying degrees of incomprehension and disbelief. Finally, the most senior spoke up hesitantly. “Honored CEO—”

“President,” Iceni corrected.

“Honored… President, we failed in our mission.”

“Your mission,” Drakon said, “changed. The moment it became clear that you had no chance against the aliens and the rest of your unit died, your mission became to survive so that the records in your armor and your own personal observations could be of use to us in retaking Iwa for humanity.”

The woman’s eyes grew dark. “You are going to retake Iwa? Avenge our fellow workers?”

“Yes,” Drakon said.

“I will give you all you wish. Ask me! I will… I will even go back! I will go back there and fight them again!”

“I will, too,” the senior of the three added after a brief hesitation.

The third averted his eyes, shivering as he stared at nothing. Drakon, well aware of how stress could break anyone, spoke to all three of them. “I appreciate your volunteering. None of you will be required to go. All of you would need medical clearance before you can go, and that may take more time than we have before the assault force leaves here. Your observations, your experiences, anything you saw on Iwa, could be immensely valuable to us. When my people come by to ask you about them, be as accurate and complete as you can.”

“Yes, hon— Sir?”

“General. General Drakon.”

“You are no longer Syndicate?”

“No,” Drakon said. “We are free. And we will free Iwa.”

“Kommodor Marphissa has shuttled down to the planet for a conference on the Iwa operation,” Iceni told Drakon as she prepared to leave his headquarters. “We’re going to be discussing how many warships to send. Do you want to attend?”

Drakon shook his head. “Not unless you want me there. I’d just endorse whatever you decided.”

“How sweet.” Iceni shook her head back at him. “That’s not a requirement for being in a relationship with me.”

He grinned. “Good thing, since I wouldn’t always do it. But in this case, I don’t know much about mobile forces. You do, and you’ll be talking to the mobile forces commanders, who seem to be very good at their jobs. Is Bradamont going to be there?”

“Of course.”

“Then I’d just be taking up space and consuming oxygen other minds might be needing.” Drakon gestured back toward the inside of his headquarters. “What I do need to be doing is figuring out how to take that underground enigma base.”

“You deal with your area of responsibility, then, and I’ll deal with mine.” Iceni blinked and looked away. “How many are going to die this time, Artur?”

“I don’t know, Gwen.” He sought for the right words. “If we don’t do this, if the enigmas dig into Iwa and fan out from there, they’ll take down Imallye and every star system in this region. How many would die if that happens?”

“Too damned many.” She sighed, then forced a smile as she looked back at him. “Isn’t it odd to feel superior because you want to limit how many people die because of your orders? But we are better than the Syndicate, and whatever their reasons are we are better than the enigmas who would kill so ruthlessly and give us no opportunity to make a deal both sides can live with.”

“I think we’re better than Imallye, too,” Drakon said.

“That just leaves Black Jack, doesn’t it?” Iceni asked sarcastically. “We can’t claim to be better than him, can we?”

“We’ll have to try to better him,” Drakon said. “That’s the only way we’ll beat Imallye, the enigmas, and the Syndicate if they decide to throw in, too.”

Another conference room, this time in Iceni’s complex. Just outside was the star system command center, with a truly awesome and immense display that sometimes seemed capable of showing entire planets at one-to-one scale. Iceni had learned that such displays were traps, though. Looking at them, it was far too easy to believe that they showed everything, in perfect detail. What was far harder to realize was that anything the sensors could not see, anything unknown, would not be shown on the display. As capable as they were, the automated routines running the displays were incapable of conceiving of the possibility that their image of the universe was incomplete. Of course, they weren’t capable of conceiving anything, just processing known data as they had been programmed to do, but that was very easy to forget when gazing at the godlike perspective a command center display offered.

She entered to find Kommodor Marphissa and Captain Bradamont already waiting, standing beside their seats. Two other places at the table were actually empty, but apparently occupied by the virtual presences of Kapitan Mercia and Kapitan Kontos also standing at attention. “Take your seats,” Iceni directed.

Marphissa and Bradamont sat down at the same time as Iceni, but the two officers attending by virtual means remained standing.

Iceni glanced at the time delays glowing beside the two images. Mercia aboard Midway was several light minutes from the planet, which would mean an annoying but endurable level of delay in any inputs she had to the meeting. Kontos, though, was nearly a light hour distant aboard Pele. This meeting would very likely have been over for a while before Kontos’s image finally sat down in response to Iceni’s direction. But even though he would not be able to provide his own opinions and advice, Kontos would get to see the deliberations and send onward later any suggestions he might have.

She nodded toward Marphissa. “You did a very impressive job at Iwa and Moorea. I regret not being in the command center to greet you in person when you arrived, Kommodor.”

Marphissa hesitated in her reply. “I… understand… that you were… otherwise occupied, Madam President.”

Iceni frowned at Marphissa, puzzled by the vague wording. “General Drakon and I have established a personal relationship. There is nothing remotely odd about CEO sleeping arrangements changing. Why is everyone tiptoeing around the matter?”

“I don’t know,” Marphissa confessed. “It just doesn’t feel appropriate with you and the General. Talking about it, I mean.”

Bradamont looked amused. “Congratulations, Madam President. You’re transcending your previous role as a Syndicate Worlds CEO.”

Iceni switched her frown to focus on the Alliance officer. “What does that mean?”

“They don’t see the rules for a CEO applying to you,” Bradamont explained. “They’re treating your personal life with respect, not because it is demanded of them but because they think you deserve it.”

“I will never understand workers,” Iceni muttered, lowering her gaze to the table. Yet the implied compliment, if Bradamont was right, did make her feel very good. She composed herself, raised her eyes, and pointed to the two women who were present and the images of Kontos and Mercia. “We’re here not to talk about my love life, but about how to handle the operation at Iwa. I am open to opinions as to how many warships to take to Iwa and how many to leave here to defend Midway, and as to who should remain at Midway in command of that defense force.”

“The basic problem with the command question,” Bradamont said, all business now, “is that your best two possibilities are both commanders of your two strongest assets. I would nominate Kapitan Mercia, but you will want the battleship Midway at Iwa, so if she stays behind to command the defense that would require passing command of Midway to someone else not long before an extended combat operation.”

“I could leave Kommodor Marphissa here and command the flotilla at Iwa,” Iceni prodded, wanting to see how they could respond.

Bradamont exchanged a single glance with Marphissa before replying. “Madam President, I have reviewed the operations that you have commanded. You have some skill. But Kommodor Marphissa is very much your superior at commanding warships in battle. I would strongly urge you to assign her in command of the forces at Iwa.”

“A very blunt reply, Captain,” Iceni said. “Also, I believe, a truthful one. I need to be at Iwa to provoke an attack by Imallye there, but I agree that the Kommodor should command our warships against Imallye. Kapitan Mercia, reply with your suggestions as to who might serve as commander of Midway if you remain here to oversee the defense of this star system.”

“What about the heavy cruiser captains?” Marphissa asked. “Would any of them be acceptable as commanders of the defense at Midway? If we are taking both Midway and Pele to Iwa, then any defensive force here will be built around one or more heavy cruisers.”

Kapitan Mercia’s virtual image finally sat down. None of the others paid attention to that, being used to the way that virtual conferences could involve significantly staggered response times.

“Manticore has Kapitan Diaz,” Bradamont said. “Gryphon has Kapitan Stein, and Kraken has Kapitan Seney. Kapitan-Leytenant Lerner on Basilisk is too junior, and Seney is the least experienced of the full Kapitans. Either Diaz or Stein might be able to handle it.”

“Might be. Why would we have to leave Kapitan Mercia here? We have you, Captain Bradamont. You have ridden Manticore,” Iceni pointed out. “You, Captain, are known to Manticore’s crew, and you know Kapitan Diaz. Would you ride Manticore again, and give him the benefit of your experience at flotilla command if he were assigned to defend this star system?”

Bradamont only paused for a moment before nodding. “Yes, Madam President. Such a task would be fully in keeping with my orders from Admiral Geary.”

Kapitan Mercia’s reply finally arrived. “I will have to consider a list of possible replacements for command of Midway, Madam President, but I am hesitant to recommend assigning a new commanding officer to my ship so soon before what will likely be a major engagement.”

“Not to worry, Kapitan Mercia,” Iceni said, waving away her words. “As you will see before you see this reply, we have resolved that matter. You will remain in command of Midway and Kapitan Kontos in command of Pele.

“How large a force do we leave with Kapitan Diaz?” Iceni continued. “At least two heavy cruisers, surely.”

“Manticore and Basilisk,” Marphissa suggested. “One or two light cruisers, and four Hunter-Killers.”

“Make it two light cruisers,” Bradamont said. “That way Diaz will be able to split his force into two equal formations if necessary to guard against more than one threat vector. And I would suggest Gryphon instead of Basilisk. If Diaz does decide to split his force, the commander of the other group will need to be as experienced as possible.”

Marphissa nodded. “Manticore and Gryphon, then. Light cruisers Osprey and Kite. Hunter-Killers Guide, Vanguard, Picket, and Watch. That is my proposal for a defensive force for Midway, Madam President.”

Iceni looked toward the images of Mercia and Kontos, knowing that only Mercia was close enough to respond in any reasonable time. After a few more minutes, Mercia nodded. “I concur with my Kommodor.”

“Presumably, Kapitan Kontos will have no objections,” Iceni said, drawing grins from Bradamont, Marphissa, and a little while later from Mercia. Kontos had a firmly established reputation as someone who would respond to any order with enthusiasm and a sincere belief in the wisdom of both Iceni and Marphissa. “That means our force at Iwa will consist of Midway, Pele, the heavy cruisers Kraken and Basilisk, light cruisers Falcon, Hawk, and Eagle, and Hunter-Killers Sentry, Sentinel, Scout, Defender, Guardian, Pathfinder, Protector, and Patrol.”

“We will take Imallye with that flotilla,” Marphissa predicted. “And the enigmas if they dare to show their faces.”

“Even if they show up, the enigmas won’t show their faces,” Bradamont pointed out.

“Madam President,” Marphissa asked after wincing at Bradamont’s joke, “have you made any determination regarding the heavy cruiser captured during the latest Syndicate attack?”

“Yes,” Iceni said. “I have already been informed that repairs sufficient to return that heavy cruiser to combat status are unlikely to be concluded in less than a month, so odds are it will not be available to add to our forces during this operation. In any event, I do not intend to fully repair the heavy cruiser.” She paused to let that sink in and watch surprise appear on both Marphissa and Bradamont. “The heavy cruiser will be offered to Taroa. They require a strong unit to protect the battle cruiser under construction there.”

Bradamont smiled. “That is an impressive gift, Madam President, one that will surely convince the Taroans and other star systems of the sincerity of your offers of alliance.”

Iceni shook a reproving finger at Bradamont. “We never use the word alliance to describe our association of star systems, Captain. It has bad connotations everywhere that was touched by the war, and in a century of war no star system was left untouched even if the losses were confined to young men and women sent to battle who never came home.”

Her smile gone, Bradamont nodded. “I understand, Madam President. My apologies.”

“You need not apologize, Captain,” Iceni said. “I am certain that no one in Alliance space ever calls themselves part of a Syndicate. We just need to be careful to avoid using terms that will prejudice those we want to view us with favor.”

“I understand,” Bradamont repeated. “I suppose if I were a politician I would have known how to say things, but if—” She stopped speaking.

Iceni gave her an exaggeratedly inquiring look. “But if?”

“I was unthinkingly repeating a common saying in the Alliance,” Bradamont said.

“I’d like to hear all of it.”

“Very well.” Bradamont finished the sentence she had earlier broken off. “If I were a politician I would have known how to say things, but if I were a politician you wouldn’t be able to believe what I said.”

“You were embarrassed to say that?” Marphissa asked.

“To the president, yes!”

Iceni smiled. “Any president who can’t handle people speaking frankly around her isn’t cut out for the job. I assure you that the vast majority of people who live under or have lived under the Syndicate would agree with that saying.”

“They wouldn’t admit to it out loud,” Marphissa said. “Not if the Syndicate is still in charge where they are. But they all think it.”

“I’ll still watch my words,” Bradamont said with a relieved smile. “Out of respect.”

“Hmmph,” Iceni scoffed. “I’ll remind everyone that Granaile Imallye does not have any love or respect for me, and as a result is threatening this entire star system. Make the necessary arrangements for dividing the mobile forces and preparing them for these operations,” Iceni told Marphissa. “I want every warship going to Iwa to be at maximum combat capability. Captain Bradamont, I am again indebted to you for your assistance. You are authorized effective immediately to communicate directly with Kapitan Diaz and Kapitan Stein to discuss the defensive operations here. I will speak with General Drakon about his planned force so we will know how many of our troop transports to employ on this operation.”

Iceni saw the flicker of reaction in Bradamont’s eyes to her last statement, and knew why. Drakon would almost certainly assign Colonel Rogero to the task of taking the enigma base, meaning that Bradamont would be seeing her lover depart on another extremely risky mission. Iceni nodded silently to Bradamont in recognition of the burden that she and Rogero shared with Iceni and Drakon. Go they must, but some of those who went to Iwa would not come back.