Shattered Spear

Chapter Three

“We need to plan for an attack on Iwa. It might be against the Syndicate presence there, which would be an easy operation.” General Drakon looked from Colonel Rogero to Colonel Safir to Colonel Kai. His three brigade commanders. It still felt wrong, it would feel wrong for a long time, to see Safir there instead of Colonel Conner Gaiene. But Conner had died at Ulindi and would never be here again except in Drakon’s memories. “Or it might be against an enigma occupation force.”

“Which would not be easy,” Rogero commented.

“Has there ever been a ground fight with the enigmas?” Safir asked.

“None that we know of,” Drakon said. “To the best of our knowledge, some of the star systems they occupied over the last century had surviving Syndicate ground forces. But we have no idea what happened when the enigmas landed.”

“Black Jack’s information has nothing to offer?” Colonel Kai asked.

“No. They didn’t have any ground or ship-boarding operations, either,” Drakon said. “The one thing Black Jack’s reports emphasized was the enigmas will not surrender and will try to blow everything to hell before we can learn anything from it.”

“Themselves included?”

“Themselves included.”

“How much will we send?” Rogero asked.

“Plan on one brigade.” Drakon looked over his colonels again. “I don’t know which one of yours will be tapped for the operation if we go ahead with this. Each of you should assume it might be your brigade.”

“All of the brigades have been pushed hard over the last year,” Kai said.

“It hasn’t been as bad as some of the ops when we were under Syndicate control,” Safir pointed out.

“That’s not saying much.”

“No, it isn’t,” Safir conceded. Syndicate CEOs had never shown any worries about casualties, but then neither had Alliance generals as the apparently endless war had ground on. With vast populations to draw on, high-ranking leaders on both sides had developed a tendency to throw endless bodies into any fight in the hopes that enough deaths would choke the enemy killing machines.

Black Jack had been different, rumor said. But then, he was Black Jack.

And Drakon had been different as well, which was why these soldiers had followed him when he and Iceni rebelled against the Syndicate.

“We’ll get this done if it needs doing,” Drakon said. “We’ll do it smart, and we’ll do it right.”

The colonels could tell when Drakon had ended a discussion and issued an order. They all saluted in the Syndicate fashion, bringing their right fists across to rap their left breasts.

As Safir and Kai left, Rogero lingered. “General, I’m going to be escorting Captain Bradamont to the landing field. She’s taking a shuttle up to the light cruiser Osprey, which will take her to Midway.”

“Good.” Drakon gave Rogero a sympathetic smile. “I’m sorry you two keep getting separated.”

“It’s not nearly as bad as it was during the war,” Rogero pointed out.

“Why isn’t she going to Pele? Bradamont was a battle cruiser commander for the Alliance. I remember hearing that battle cruiser types in the Alliance looked down on battleships.”

“They do,” Rogero said. “Swift and agile versus slow and clumsy, attack versus defense, is how Honore explained it to me. But her assignment is to command the entire force, if necessary. Pele might have to make some risky attacks.”

“So she has to stay on the battleship, so she can survive and continue to command the fight.” Drakon nodded in understanding. “We know how that goes. The hardest thing can be standing back and keeping an eye on the big picture when you want to throw yourself into the fight. She’s a good officer, isn’t she?”

“The Syndicate never could beat them.”

“No.” Drakon snorted, gazing at one wall, not really focusing on anything as he remembered too many battles in too many places. “They couldn’t beat us, either. What do you suppose would have happened if Black Jack hadn’t shown up?”

“Both sides would have kept fighting until everyone like you, me, and Honore Bradamont was dead, and then everything would have fallen apart,” Rogero said.

“Yeah.” Drakon looked at Rogero. “Tell Captain Bradamont good luck from me, and that I expect her to kick the butts of any enigmas or Syndicate warships that show up here.”

Rogero grinned and saluted again. “Yes, sir.”

But the smile faded before he reached the door and Rogero turned his head to look at Drakon again. “Sir? What do you think they’ll find at Iwa?”

“I think,” Drakon said, “that you and I are very lucky we aren’t at Iwa. The enigmas have never left any survivors.”

“Taroa is rebuilding from the damage suffered during its rebellion and civil war, but with Ulindi leaderless it won’t be able to contribute any help to us anytime soon.”

“President Iceni and I have a plan for Ulindi,” Drakon said. “I’m going over to her offices now to see if we can make it happen.”

Two comfortable chairs faced a blank wall. Iceni took one, Drakon the other. “Are you sure about this?” he asked.

“No.” She gave him a look. “You have the right to veto it.”

“I know.” Drakon sat back, trying to relax himself, and trying to decide if he really wanted to exercise that veto. “I saw what things are like on Ulindi. The snakes did their best to gut that star system of anyone who could run things.”

“And he can run things,” Iceni said. “Our sources in Syndicate space have confirmed his story to some extent. But uncertainties remain.”

“Ulindi needs a strong hand,” Drakon said. “Let’s get this over with.”

Iceni tapped a control and the blank wall vanished, turning into a virtual window that covered the entire wall so that the room seemed to have more than doubled in size. Now visible was the inside of a cell designed for VIP prisoners. Not exactly comfortable, but not a living hell, either. The cell boasted a decent bed as well as a chair, both fastened securely to the floor and the chair facing toward where Drakon and Iceni sat, but not much more except for the vast array of sensors that kept continuous watch on the cell’s occupant.

CEO Jason Boyens, alerted by the change in light to the virtual window, sat up on the bed, then stood carefully. He looked a little haggard, which wasn’t too surprising given that he had spent some time wondering if at any moment he would be taken out and executed. Boyens walked toward the virtual window, facing Iceni and Drakon. “It’s nice to have visitors. I’m glad to see you survived the trap at Ulindi, Artur.”

“I wouldn’t have been in nearly as much danger,” Drakon said, “if you’d spilled your guts about the Syndicate trap at Ulindi before I left.”

“But I did tell you. Or rather, I told Gwen here.” Boyens gestured toward her. “Apparently, my warning came in time. But I don’t think you’re here to thank me.”

Iceni’s smile flicked on and off so rapidly that it was barely visible. “No, Jason. We’re here to say good-bye.”

Boyens stiffened, swallowed, then nodded. “Why the forewarning? To make me suffer as I wait for the end?”

“You misunderstand, Jason,” Iceni continued. “We’re letting you go.”

That was a bit too much even for someone experienced in the often-lethal cat-and-mouse games of Syndicate CEOs. Boyens swayed slightly, then put one hand on the chair beside him. “If you’re playing with me, you’re doing a good job. May I sit down?”

“Please.”

Boyens took his seat, then looked at Drakon. “You were always the straightforward sort, Artur. What’s the deal?”

Drakon smiled, too, deliberately letting Boyens see grim amusement. “Just as Gwen said. What you told us about the Syndicate wanting your hide on the wall appears to be true, and since we’ve let the Syndicate know through various unofficial means that their trap failed at Ulindi because you warned us about it, we can be pretty confident that you won’t try to make nice with the Syndicate again anytime soon.”

“How nice of you to give me credit,” Boyens said. “If the Syndicate gets its hands on me now they’ll turn me over to Happy Hua with instructions to make sure my end is painful and prolonged.”

“Happy Hua won’t serve the Syndicate anymore,” Iceni said. “She died at Ulindi.”

The smile on Boyens’s face was unquestionably genuine. “What a shame. We all do what we have to do, but she enjoyed it. Too bad the Syndicate still has plenty of other cold-blooded killers to employ. What is it you want from me?”

“We want you to go to Ulindi,” Drakon said.

Boyens, as skilled at CEO backstabbing as he was, still looked floored by the statement. “Ulindi? Did you tell them I was responsible for what happened there?”

“No.” Drakon took a deep breath, remembering things seen at Ulindi. “How much did you know about the trap there? You told us that you only knew it was intended to draw us in and hit us with hidden military forces. Is that all you knew?”

“That’s all I knew. It wasn’t a plan I was supposed to have any role in, so I wasn’t even supposed to know the plan existed. But enough people were gabbing about it that I could make out the outlines.”

Boyens could not see the readouts visible to Iceni and Drakon. He would have known his cell contained numerous sensors which monitored every aspect of his body, something useful for maintaining a picture of a prisoner’s health but also extremely helpful in determining if someone was lying. The readouts told Drakon that Boyens hadn’t lied just now. That wasn’t always helpful, because anyone given secrets was also given techniques for outwitting such sensors by phrasing answers in just the right way or simply refusing to answer at all. But in this case Boyens had answered clearly and unambiguously.

Drakon nodded. “It’s lucky for you that you didn’t know more. As part of their preparations for the trap, the Syndicate wanted to ensure that no one at Ulindi would cause them any problems. The snakes carried out mass arrests.”

“Naturally.”

“And they murdered everyone they arrested.”

“They—?” Boyens inhaled sharply. “That’s insane. They must have gutted Ulindi’s upper ranks, and middle ranks, and—” He stared at Drakon. “There’s a leadership vacuum at Ulindi, and you want me to go there?”

“That’s right.” Drakon smiled again. “We’re giving you the chance to be the person who starts putting Ulindi back together.”

“You’re putting me in charge of Ulindi?” Boyens didn’t seem able to grasp the idea.

“No,” Iceni said with a low laugh. “We’re not in charge at Ulindi. We couldn’t force a ruler on them, and we don’t want to. The last thing they need or want is another Syndicate CEO.” Her expression shifted to a glare. “Do you understand? Anyone who shows up at Ulindi acting the CEO is going to get torn to pieces by the mob, which is very upset by the atrocities the snakes committed before those snakes got a taste of their own medicine at the hands of General Drakon’s forces. But the people at Ulindi desperately need someone who can help form a decent government, help the star system get back on its feet, and help establish the means for Ulindi to stay independent of the Syndicate.”

“I don’t understand.” Boyens looked from Iceni to Drakon and back again, as if seeking some answers in their expressions. “What exactly is your goal? What is it I am expected to do? Because I have no doubt that you’ll have safeguards in place to ensure that if I do the wrong thing I won’t enjoy it for long.”

“Our goal,” said Drakon, “is a strong Ulindi. That means no dictator diverting resources in order to keep the people in line. No attempts to continue the wasteful and corrupt Syndicate system under another name. But it also means a government strong enough to get things done, a government not dependent on any one man or woman, and able to handle any crisis that comes along, including attacks from more than one source.”

“Oh, I thought you were asking me to do something difficult!” Boyens lowered his head, rubbing his face with one hand, then looked back at them. “You really think I can do that?”

“You’re good at what you do, Jason,” Iceni said. “You couldn’t have survived this long while double-crossing and triple-crossing so many people without being a very smart operator.”

“But how does anyone form a strong government without just telling everyone what to do and enforcing it with the sort of things the Syndicate does?”

“We can offer you some pointers.” She cocked her head slightly to one side, eyeing Boyens. “What’s the matter? Is this beyond your ability?”

Boyens laughed. “I’m good enough to spot that simple kind of manipulation, Gwen. So, you’re giving me a chance to remake Ulindi and get that star system back on its feet after the Syndicate cut it off at the knees. And if I start murdering my opponents and firing on the mob you’ll have me taken out by some of the agents you doubtless have hidden on Ulindi. Or you’ll send in a battleship and tell my loyal subjects to turn me over or else, which I’m sure those subjects would do without hesitating if I haven’t engendered some loyalty in them. What do I get out of this?”

“Your life,” Drakon said.

“And a chance to build something,” Iceni said. “What would it feel like to be the founder of a new state at Ulindi? To be remembered for what you built there? You’ll get power, and probably wealth, out of the deal. But you’ll also get the right to feel a little self-respect again. Let me tell you from personal experience that is not a bad thing.”

Boyens didn’t reply for a long moment, his eyes on Iceni. “I always thought you were ruthless and clever, Gwen,” he finally said, “but I never realized how tough you were. And, you, Artur, always sticking your neck out. I figured Gwen would have you taken out sooner or later, if the snakes didn’t get you first. But I didn’t realize how smart you were. And now you two are offering me not just freedom but a chance to do something with it. Oh, I know what’s going on. For all of your talk about acting differently than the Syndicate, you two are playing the same old game. You’re handing me an impossible task, expecting me to fail, so you can blame me. And if somehow I succeed then you’ll take the credit for it. But you’re right that I can’t run back to the Syndicate. Fine. I know that Midway is going to be the big dog in any relationship with Ulindi. I can work with that. I can work with you. You two can be the senior partners. If this is the deal, I accept.”

“Then we will arrange your transport to Ulindi,” Iceni said, “along with our assurances to what few authorities Ulindi still has that you have been cleared by security.”

“We won’t tell Ulindi anything else,” Drakon said.

“You need to tell them more. People there will know me,” Boyens objected. “You rescued those survivors of the Reserve Flotilla. I was in a senior position in that flotilla for a long time.”

“That’s right,” Drakon agreed. “And you were a CEO, but you weren’t an awful CEO. You didn’t make a good impression when you were here commanding that other Syndicate flotilla, but images from transmissions you made, images that show that snake CEO Happy Hua at your back ready to plunge in a knife, have been popping up in a lot of places, along with comments that she must have been forcing your hand.”

“Still manipulating social media, and every other form of media?” Boyens asked sarcastically. “I guess some of those Syndicate habits die hard.”

“Those skills are useful and essential for survival,” Iceni said. “It is also being noted that when Happy Hua operated that flotilla alone, she acted much more ruthlessly. There were no bombardments of worlds when you were in command, creating the impression that you acted as a check on Hua’s natural cruelty.”

Boyens straightened in his seat, looking legitimately affronted. “I did act as a check on her. That’s not just an impression. I took some serious risks to hold her back. I’m not a butcher, Gwen. Why do you think the Syndicate turned on me? Because Hua’s report painted me as the cause of that flotilla’s failure, saying I was insufficiently zealous in pursuing Syndicate objectives.”

“We know,” Drakon said. “If you had a history anything like Hua’s, you’d never leave that cell you are in. But Gwen and I know that you’re actually telling the truth, that you haven’t been a cold-blooded killer, that none of the survivors of the Reserve Flotilla have called for your head on a plate, and even Black Jack saw something worthwhile in you. You can go to Ulindi as the man who prevented Happy Hua from doing the sort of thing she did to Kane after you were relieved of command of that flotilla, and as the CEO in the Reserve Flotilla who may not have been a hero of the workers but did treat them like they were human.”

Boyens shrugged. “Rewriting history is easy. I always knew rewriting the memories of those who know you is another matter altogether. All right. We have an agreement. Once you let me out of here, I’ll let you know everything else I found out in the Syndicate. There’s nothing remotely as big as the trap that was being set at Ulindi, that was my trump card and I gave it to you freely, but perhaps you can use some of the other gossip. Oh, one other thing. I have no ambitions to be a general like you, Artur, but if I manage to attain the power I need at Ulindi can I call myself a president as well, Gwen?”

She smiled again. “If you earn it, Jason.”

This time, Boyens smiled back. “Then let’s get in the same room, raise some glasses, and toast the resumption of a beautiful friendship.”

“Just a few minutes, and you’ll be out,” Iceni said. “We’ll see you soon afterward.” She closed the virtual window, leaving the blank wall in its place, then sighed. “I hope we’re not screwing this up.”

Drakon shook his head. “We know Boyens. He’s a smart operator, and he can be a decent guy if properly motivated. He’s going to be seeing agents of ours around every corner at Ulindi and be constantly worrying about what we’ll do if he starts acting like a snake or a Syndicate CEO. Between that and fears of the Syndicate and the enigmas, he might just be what Ulindi desperately needs.”

“And what we need,” Iceni agreed. “My agents at Taroa report we have enough elected officials in our pockets there to ensure Taroa goes along with reasonable proposals from us.”

“My agents at Taroa tell me the same thing,” Drakon said. “If we get Ulindi and Taroa tied to us, Kane and Kahiki will do the same. Ulindi, Taroa, and Kane can all support substantial populations and have decent resources, or will once Kane rebuilds. And Kahiki offers us the sort of research labs it would be beyond our means to re-create here. Give us a few more years and we’ll have enough strength in these star systems to hold off even the Syndicate and the enigmas.”

“But will we have a few more years?” Iceni asked. “Or even a few more months?”

Drakon didn’t answer, because he didn’t have any answer to offer.

Manticore left jump space at Iwa with every weapon fully ready and her shields at maximum strength. As Marphissa shook off the effects of the transition from jump space she stared at her display with a growing sense of dismay.

A low murmuring came from the others on the bridge as Manticore’s sensors reported what they could see.

“Is there anything left?” Kapitan Diaz asked the senior watch specialist.

The specialist shook his head, his voice trembling slightly. “No, Kapitan. The city has been totally destroyed by orbital bombardment. All occupied off-planet sites have been destroyed. So have automated sites. Even small satellites have been blown apart.”

“But no sign of enigmas, either?”

“No, Kapitan. The ships that must have destroyed Iwa are no longer present.”

Marphissa spoke in a low voice that carried across the hush on the bridge. “The enigma ship detected by Pele must have been a final check before their attack force jumped here. There are no distress signals from any surviving humans?”

“No, Kommodor. There is no indication that any humans survived.”

The recently promoted CEO that Kontos had encountered here had not ruled Iwa Star System for very long.

“Look at that,” Diaz said in a wondering voice. “They even flattened abandoned weapons emplacements. There was nothing in those emplacements, but they destroyed them anyway.”

“Black Jack told us the enigmas had wiped every trace of human presence from the star systems they had occupied,” Marphissa said, feeling numb. She had seen worse in her time. Much worse. The war with the Alliance had created scenes of destruction that dwarfed this one. But few that were as complete in their annihilation, and the people here had been totally helpless. They would have been able to do nothing as the enigma bombardment approached. Nothing but wait until nothing was left.

“What should we do, Kommodor?”

Marphissa took a long, slow breath as she considered her options. “Our orders are to warn Iwa and to establish contact with Granaile Imallye. Midway is already aware of a possible threat from Iwa. Moorea is not. Neither is Palau. We will continue on to Moorea, try to speak with this Imallye, and warn everyone that the enigmas have an alternate attack route into human space. And we will not waste time. Proceed toward the jump point for Moorea at point two light speed, Kapitan.”

“Yes, Kommodor.” Diaz glanced at his display. “That jump point is four and a quarter light hours distant from us. The transit will take a little more than twenty-one hours.”

“Very well.”

As Manticore came about and accelerated toward the jump point for Moorea, Diaz gazed morosely at his display. “Do you think the enigmas will try to establish a base at Iwa, Kommodor?”

“Maybe. Maybe not. Black Jack reported that Pele has remained completely vacant since the enigmas pushed the Syndicate out of that star system. But Iwa would be a toehold in human-occupied space.”

“Why, Kommodor? Why do the enigmas do this? Didn’t Black Jack tell us they don’t want us to know anything about them? Fine. We’ll leave them alone.”

“They are afraid that we won’t stop trying to find out things about them,” Marphissa explained. “They must view the entire universe with fear, and fear creates cruelty and ruthlessness.”

“It does in people,” Diaz agreed.

Marphissa closed her eyes, wanting to block out the vision of what had been done to Iwa Star System. “We are fortunate they could only reach Iwa. This is a tragedy, but there wasn’t much here. If the enigmas could have hit Taroa or Ulindi the loss of life would have been much, much greater.”

It was cold comfort, but it was the only comfort that Iwa offered.

And it helped distract her slightly from the even colder fear that the enigmas might have also found a way to get the extra jump range they needed to reach Taroa and Ulindi directly.

Habits taught during Syndicate rule died hard. The ambassadors from Taroa and Kahiki sat apart from each other, uncomfortable with their bodyguards forced to remain outside. A woman who represented what was left of Kane after the civil war and Syndicate bombardment had taken a chair to one side, her eyes shifting rapidly about the room as if expecting ground attackers or a weapon dropped from orbit to strike at any moment. A young man who had somehow survived the snake purge of suspected traitors on Ulindi looked both determined and frightened.

Iceni noticed that the representatives from Taroa, Kahiki, and Ulindi all kept glancing at Drakon as if regarding him as the one who was in charge. Drakon was the one they knew from his time in their star systems. The woman from Kane gave those kind of glances to Iceni, who had herself visited there. All of the representatives gave the appearance not of ambassadors for their star systems but like junior executives facing Syndicate CEOs who could ruin their lives and their worlds on a whim.

“Not much, is it?” Iceni murmured to Drakon where he sat beside her. “Four star systems, and only Kahiki is intact.”

Drakon nodded, keeping his eyes on the star system representatives as he answered in the same low tones. They didn’t have to worry about their comments being overheard since the security field would hide both their words and the movements of their lips, but still they spoke discreetly because another lesson of the Syndicate was that you never knew who might be listening despite all of your security measures. “None of them can even defend themselves, let alone contribute to defending anyone else.”

“Not today,” Iceni agreed. “And not tomorrow. But Kane, Ulindi, and Taroa have the resources and the worlds to support decent defense assets someday, and the labs on Kahiki might produce the advances we’ll all need to hold off the Syndicate and the enigmas.” She reached out one finger to tap a control and negate the security field, then spoke in a normal voice. “We have a matter of great concern to discuss with you, as well as a proposal that should work to all of our mutual benefit.”

The suspicious eyes watching her grew even warier. “Madam President,” the ambassador from Taroa said, “we have all had far too much experience with Syndicate offers that were supposedly to our benefit. We know that you would not make that sort of offer,” she finished, sounding hopeful and almost sincere in her belief.

Drakon replied, sounding appropriately gruff and foreboding. He and Iceni had agreed that he would best serve as the bad cop in this negotiation. “With the exception of Kahiki, Midway has taken substantial risks, and combat losses, to aid your star systems. And we have already committed to defend Kahiki. That’s in addition to our mutual defense agreements with Taroa.”

The woman from Kane shook her head rapidly. “No one would accuse you or President Iceni of not having aided us,” she said. “Is the Syndicate preparing another attack?” The question came out with a pleading tone, as if begging them to tell her the answer was no.

Iceni spoke soothingly. “We have no information about Syndicate attack plans, though as you all know the Syndicate will not stop trying to regain control of all of our star systems. After their defeat at Ulindi, it should take the Syndicate a little while at least to muster major new forces to attack any of us, though smaller attacks are possible at any time. I’m afraid the larger threat that concerns us comes from another direction.”

“Imallye?” the Taroan asked. “She was threatening Moorea, but that information was over a month old by the time we heard it here.”

“We can handle Imallye if we have to,” Iceni said, making her flat statement sound confident despite their lack of knowledge of just how powerful Imallye actually was. “No. This threat is not from a human source.”

That information hit the four representatives with the force of a blow. They actually all flinched or jerked back as if Iceni had swung a fist their way.

“There were alien ships in this star system recently,” the man from Ulindi said.

“Those were Dancers,” Drakon replied. “Perhaps not allies of ours, but certainly not enemies. You’ve all heard that Dancer ships saved this world from being devastated by an enigma bombardment.”

“The enigmas? Is that the threat?” The representative from Ulindi looked at the others as if seeking either confirmation or support. “Is Midway asking us for help to stop another enigma attack? We have none to offer.”

“We are all too aware of that,” Drakon said.

The man from Ulindi flushed with embarrassment. “As grateful as we are for your assistance in throwing off the Syndicate yoke that bound us, we lack any warships. You know that. You took with you every Syndicate mobile forces unit captured at Ulindi.”

Drakon’s eyes narrowed.

Iceni considered intervening, but decided to let Artur run free a little longer. She wasn’t too pleased with the attitude of the representative from Ulindi.

“You mean the Syndicate units that we captured at Ulindi,” Drakon said, his voice low and powerful. “While we liberated Ulindi from the Syndicate. I lost good men and women in that fight.”

“So did our warships,” Iceni said, more pleasantly than Drakon, which somehow made the point just as effective.

The young man from Ulindi turned even darker with embarrassment, then shook his head, his hands moving indecisively. “I’m sorry, honored—I mean, we lost people, too. The snakes killed so many. Everyone who they suspected might have planned or led or done anything else against the Syndicate. We lost all of the people who should have been here instead of me, all of the people who would have known how to talk to you. I don’t know what the hell I’m doing.”

“Neither do I,” Iceni replied. “This is uncharted territory for us all. All of you know that if Midway had desired to conquer your star systems, we could have done so.”

“You might still be trying,” the woman from Taroa suggested with a thin smile.

“True,” Iceni agreed. “Or we could have done as the Syndicate does, bombarding you into submission.” She pretended not to notice the flare of reflexive fear in the eyes of the woman from Kane. “But we have not, and we will not.”

“We will not,” Drakon repeated in slow and heavy tones.

“The Syndicate taught us to wonder what anyone’s motives were,” the Taroan noted. “What are yours? We are grateful for the assistance you provided us. But we’re still waiting to learn the price.”

“We reached mutual defense agreements with you,” Drakon pointed out.

“Until we get the unfinished battle cruiser the Syndicate bequeathed us in operational condition, that agreement is pretty one-sided in its demands on you. Why? Why take on that burden?”

“Because someday that battle cruiser will be operational,” Iceni said. “And you’ll have other warships. And when that day comes, we don’t want you as enemies. We’d much prefer to have you as friends.”

“But… why?” the young man from Ulindi asked in a pleading voice. “What do you get out of this?”

“We get the Syndicate off our doorstep,” Drakon replied. “Instead of being a launching point for attacks on us, you are hopefully going to be allies against the Syndicate.”

“Allies?” The man from Kahiki spoke for the first time. “As in Alliance?”

“No,” Drakon said. He knew that after the century-long war the term “Alliance” was poison anywhere in Syndicate space.

“You have an Alliance officer among your staff. It’s widely known.”

“I haven’t tried to hide it,” Drakon said. “Captain Bradamont was assigned here by Black Jack. Personally assigned to Midway by Black Jack, with orders to assist us in defending against the Syndicate and the enigmas. But she has no role in policy and does not interfere with the way we run this star system.”

“Does she follow your orders?” the man pressed.

“If they are consistent with her orders from Black Jack,” Iceni said. “She’s very open about that. You know Alliance officers. It wouldn’t be honorable to lie to us.”

That jab at the reputation of Alliance officers even got a smile from the woman from Kane. The woman from Taroa actually laughed.

“So what does Black Jack get out of it?” The man from Kahiki wasn’t going to be sidetracked.

“He gets a hypernet gate on the far side of what used to be Syndicate space,” Iceni said. “He gets a stable government here, and we have been stable. I’m certain that your own spies have informed you that the general and I have the support of the people. That matters to Black Jack, too. And, of course, he wants us able to defend human space against incursions by the enigmas. Which brings us back to what General Drakon and I want to warn you of.”

She waved a hand over a control, bringing up a star display that floated just to one side of her. “Here are our local star systems, including Midway, Kahiki, Taroa, Kane, Ulindi, and Iwa. Over here you see those star systems occupied by the enigmas over the last century as the Syndicate was pushed back toward Midway.”

Iceni pointed. “And here is Pele. One of the reasons the enigmas were held back for a while is that the only human star system they could reach from their own space using jump drives was Midway.”

“Was?” The Taroan repeated the word with sudden tension in her voice.

“We have reliable indications that an enigma warship was detected jumping into Iwa recently.” Iceni swung her finger across the starscape to indicate that star. “And we have a warning from the Dancers, a warning whose meaning we could not understand until a short time ago. Watch the different stars, they told us. Captain Bradamont has informed us of techniques Black Jack knew to get slightly better range out of Alliance jump drives. It appears the enigmas have now done even Black Jack one better.”

“If they can reach Iwa…” The woman from Taroa put one hand to her forehead, looking shaken.

“They may soon be able to directly reach Taroa,” Iceni finished. “And Ulindi.”

The man from Kahiki didn’t look happy. “Syndicate reports had little information about what happened in star systems taken by the enigmas. You have passed us reports from Black Jack that his fleet found all traces of human presence had been eliminated in those star systems. Do you believe those reports?”

“We have no reason to doubt them,” Drakon said. “Captain Bradamont herself witnessed what was in those star systems, and the information is consistent with what little the Syndicate was ever able to learn.”

“What about the humans who were prisoners of the enigmas? Can’t they tell us anything?”

The woman from Taroa, still rattled, shook her head. “Some of those people were citizens of Taroa. I’ve talked to them. They were kept inside a hollowed-out asteroid. They never saw an enigma, never talked to one, never saw anything. They didn’t even know who or what had taken them prisoner.”

“But if this is true,” the young man from Ulindi said, “then we need you more than ever. Ulindi can’t defend itself. Only Midway, or the Syndicate, has forces capable of stopping the enigmas, and after the massacre carried out by the snakes no one on Ulindi would accept the Syndicate even if it was our only hope. What can we give you?”

“That varies by star system,” Iceni said. Having seen how her news had frightened the others, she was now doing her best to sound calm and confident, the leader who could protect them. “Kane has valuable resources but must devote what people and industry are left to rebuilding. Kahiki can give us the hope for new weapons and other technology to employ against the enigmas. From Taroa and Ulindi, what Midway needs most is three things. We hope that Kane and Kahiki will also commit to these things in principle.”

They tensed again. This was the part of the conversation where Syndicate CEOs would be laying out an offer-that-you-had-better-not-refuse, one that would profit the CEOs and injure the victims.

“Firstly,” Iceni said, “agreements to work together, to share what information we have, to allow mobile forces to transit each other’s star systems, and to establish a unified command when any of the other star systems acquire operational warships.”

“Unified under Midway?” the woman from Taroa asked.

“Yes,” Iceni said. “We are the senior partner in the defense of this region of space, and we have officers in command of our warships who have proven their skill and their dedication.” No one said anything else, so she continued. “Secondly, to commit to devoting some of your resources to the common defense. We don’t know how many more former Syndicate warships we can acquire. I assure you that we have agents spreading the word through Syndicate-controlled space that Midway offers freedom to any crew who brings their warships to us.” She paused. “Assuming some more warships show up, we will proportionally share them with other star systems. We need you to have the means for your own defense.”

“You’d be acting out of self-interest, then,” the young man from Ulindi said. That they could all understand. “But we can’t help you unless we have the means.”

“Exactly. Which brings up the third item.” Iceni could see the others brace themselves for the bad news they expected. “Money. Midway is fortunate to have the income from the hypernet gate, but we are not wealthy. The larger our forces grow, the harder it is to pay for them. We would like commitments from you to not only pay for your own defense but to contribute a reasonable sum to our own forces.”

“How much is reasonable?” the Taroan asked.

“What can be spared,” Iceni said. “And not all of that. You need to have enough to rebuild your economies and to expand. We don’t want weak client star systems. We want you all to become strong enough to be partners. Economic partners as well as partners in defense.”

Their skepticism was easy to see. Drakon answered the unspoken question. “We’ve all experienced Syndicate practices, where they milk the cow until it’s dead, feast on the carcass, then go looking for another cow. You, and me, all of us, have been in the position of that cow. Now that President Iceni and I have the ability to do things the way we want to do them, we’re trying to avoid repeating the mistakes of the Syndicate.”

“You want us to be fat cows,” the Taroan said.

“That’s right,” Iceni said. “We’re trying to think long-term, despite the very short-term worries about whether any of us will survive for the long term.”

“On behalf of the provisional government of Kane,” that woman vowed, “I commit us to this. Midway helped us when we had been nearly crushed by Syndicate bombardment. They helped us and asked for nothing in return.” She looked a challenge at the representatives of Taroa, Ulindi, and Kahiki. “Because of the damage we have sustained, we will be the least in this… this association of star systems. But we will rebuild, and we will be strong, and we will stand with Midway.”

“Association?” the young man from Ulindi asked. “Is that what it would be called?”

“No.” Iceni smiled, tapping another control. An image appeared next to her, showing a raptorlike bird with spread wings rising from the atomic fires of a star. “We thought we would call it the Phoenix Stars. Strong. Indestructible. Rising from the ashes of what was before.”

The Syndicate had never been that big on symbolism. It got in the way of efficiency, it cost extra money, and anyway workers lacked the imagination to understand symbols, or so the bureaucracy thought. They produced crests and insignias for ships and ground forces, but only because that helped identify them. The actual images used, and any accompanying mottos, were always what a long chain of bureaucrats thought looked good. Everyone mocked the resulting symbols except for those who had generated them.

It had never been a smart way of doing business, but it was far from the stupidest thing done in the name of uniformity, conformity, efficiency, and of course in hopes of saving a little money. “Small cuts can make for big costs,” one of Iceni’s mentors had once explained, and she had never forgotten that. She had also never forgotten how effective well-chosen symbols could be.

No one said anything, but the eager smiles on the faces of the star system representatives told Iceni what she needed to know. This symbol could rally star systems to a single cause.

“Send our offer to your star systems,” Iceni directed. “I’ll provide you with the proposed text for the agreement of association. Get formal answers from them and be sure they know of the threat from the enigmas. In light of the urgency of the information about the enigmas, we do not want you to have to wait for transport to your own star systems. We will provide each of you with a Hunter-Killer from our mobile forces for transport for yourself or whoever else you want to convey the message.” The temporary loss of the use of four HuKs was not a small price, but once again the symbolism was worth the cost.

She looked at the representative from Ulindi. “There will be an extra passenger going to your star system.”

“An extra passenger?”

“Another survivor from the old Reserve Flotilla. He wants to emigrate to Ulindi. Perhaps he will be able to render some assistance to you in organizing things there.”

“A freighter arrived from Ulindi today,” Colonel Malin reported. “We had an agent aboard it who reported that no detections of enigma ships had been seen at Ulindi before the freighter jumped for Midway.”

Iceni nodded shortly, glaring at her desk. “But nothing from Taroa yet?”

“No, Madam President.”

“If the enigmas hit us again, we may be wishing the Syndicate was back. I’m getting every standard report on events in this region of space. I want you to ensure that I see any important information that doesn’t make its way into those reports because someone decided it wasn’t worth reporting.”

“Yes, Madam President. I did discover some more information about Granaile Imallye which was buried in captured Syndicate files. She is operating under her real name, but once was more widely known by a false one.”

“A pirate using an alias?” Iceni remarked sarcastically. “What an amazing development.”

“She once called herself O’Malley. As best I can determine, she originally came from Conall Star System and that was the name she used there.”

Iceni realized she had stopped breathing, and slowly inhaled. “A woman who went by the name O’Malley? From Conall? How certain are you of that?”

Malin was watching her closely. “Not absolutely certain, but at least eighty percent certain. Do you know of her?”

“Possibly,” Iceni said, trying to sound dismissive of the news. “I once knew a woman who used that name, after an ancient pirate she admired.” Could it be her? There were surely many, many real O’Malleys in that star system. But if it was her…

Iceni needed something to distract Malin from this topic, and fortunately she had just the thing right at hand. “You were out for a while last night, Colonel.”

“Yes, Madam President.” If Malin had noted her change of the subject, or was surprised that Iceni had been able to discover he had been unaccounted for during the evening, he didn’t show any traces of either.

“Did you find anything about Togo?”

“No, Madam President. There has been no trace of Togo. The security forces have found nothing, and system defense experts have not identified any attempted intrusions that could be sourced to him.”

“Togo is more than capable of making his intrusion attempts look like someone else’s work,” Iceni told Malin. “Look at all of the intrusion attempts being detected and see if any pattern exists that could identify a target for Togo’s actions.”

“That effort is already under way,” Malin said. “There has been a slight uptick in attempts against your security systems and those of General Drakon, but the increase is within normal variation levels. No successful intrusions have been detected.”

“If Togo manages an intrusion, you won’t detect it,” Iceni said. “I need to know what he is trying to do. Have you discovered anything else?”

This time, Malin paused. “I found indications that may lead me closer to a target General Drakon assigned me.”

“Which target?”

“His daughter.”

Iceni fought down an angry response before speaking again. She hated being reminded of the girl, and hated that she felt that way. “I was told that Colonel Morgan had placed safeguards around wherever the baby is, and if anyone gets too close the child will die.”

“As near as I can determine, what Morgan said is true,” Malin said.

“And what were General Drakon’s orders in that regard?” Iceni pressed.

“He told me he did not want his daughter to die.”

Iceni leaned back in her chair, eyeing Malin. “Suppose I told you to press on in ways that would trigger those safeguards and ensure the child’s death. Would you do it?”

Malin did not reveal any emotion as he shook his head. “No, Madam President. I could not obey such an order.”

“Why not?”

“Because I believe that it would be a mistake to betray General Drakon’s wishes in the matter. He would regard it as a very serious breach of trust. It might sabotage his cooperation with you in the governing of, and defense of, Midway.”

“And?” Iceni asked.

“There is no other reason, Madam President.”

“No other reason? The girl is your half sister. You refused to kill Morgan for me, without revealing to me that the reason was because she was your mother. Yet now you feel no obligation toward a sister?”

Malin started to speak, paused, then tried again. “We all die, Madam President. Our sacrifices can build important things, great legacies, if we do not hesitate to do what we must.”

He sounded sincere. Iceni nodded slowly, then waved a dismissal at Malin. She didn’t want to risk anything in her voice giving away how much his reply had disturbed her.

Too many of the people working for her and Drakon were still caught in the Syndicate belief that the ends always justified the means. Worse, they were making their own decisions about means and ends.

Means don’t always produce the ends we want. Like “O’Malley” from Conall. Damn. It must be her. And I sent Kommodor Marphissa and Manticore out there to deal with her. The last I had heard, that girl had taken after her father. Of all the pirates out there, why did she have to sail into my region of space? That mess with her father wasn’t my worst mistake, but bad enough.

My worst mistake might be pursuing his own goals in this city right now.

Iceni wondered what ends Togo was working toward, and what means he was willing to use.