Imperfect Sword

Chapter Six

“Who are you planning on leaving here?” Iceni asked. She had that look she got when she was facing a necessary choice that she would prefer not to have to deal with.

“Colonel Rogero,” Drakon replied, having learned not to string out answers when Iceni felt that way. This being a meeting at which critical decisions were being made, it was being carried out in person to avoid the chance of someone’s tapping in to any comm link. He had come to her office for that meeting, as he usually did, and wondered if she was even noticing that concession to her. Not that he was going to bring that up. With Gwen Iceni sitting less than three meters away, he had no interest in antagonizing her.

“Rogero?” She paused, thinking, then gave him a keen look. “People are going to think he’s my favorite.”

“He is, isn’t he?”

“As ground forces brigade commanders of yours go, yes,” Iceni said enigmatically. “Is that why you chose him to remain?”

“Partly.” Drakon nodded toward the star display. “Colonel Kai is as steady as a rock and absolutely dependable.”

“That sounds like he would be the best choice to leave here,” Iceni commented.

“Yes, but he’s deliberate.”

“Slow, you mean,” Iceni said.

“He can be,” Drakon conceded. “You can count on him absolutely, but he might take a while to act when quick action is necessary. I can get him moving faster, but you might not be able to.”

“You think quick action might be necessary?” Iceni sat back, her gaze on him intent.

“I don’t know.” Drakon made an irritated chopping motion with one hand. “I don’t know of any threat. But if something did happen, if Colonel Kai were the ground forces commander here, he might take too long to react. His temperament is best suited to being along on this operation.”

Iceni watched him for several seconds, then nodded. “So, not Kai.”

“That leaves Colonel Gaiene. I know your opinion of him, but if I thought he was best for this, I’d be urging you to accept his remaining behind. He’s not the best, though. He raises hell anywhere he is, which is good on a battlefield and not so good in garrison.”

“None of our subordinates are perfect,” Iceni said, looking off to one side as she spoke. “But I would prefer not having to depend on a ground forces commander who might be drunk and in the wrong bed when he is needed.”

“Which leaves Rogero, who would be a damned good choice regardless.”

“And,” Iceni added dryly, “if you leave Colonel Rogero behind, you won’t have Captain Bradamont upset at you.”

“She’s among those I wouldn’t want upset at me,” Drakon agreed, giving Iceni a look that drew a small smile from her. “I was uncertain whether you’d want her to accompany the flotilla going to Ulindi, though.”

“No,” Iceni said. “I sounded out Bradamont on the matter. She was concerned that her participation in an offensive operation by us might violate her orders. I think she would do it if I said pretty please, because taking out Haris is really a defensive offensive operation, but this is something Kommodor Marphissa should be able to handle easily, and with her gone from Midway, I’d like Bradamont here backstopping Kapitans Kontos and Mercia.”

“That seems prudent,” Drakon agreed.

“I’m glad you approve.”

“Gwen, are you unhappy with this operation? I’ve done planning, but that’s it. I can write that off to contingency thinking. We can postpone hitting Ulindi or call it off completely. Haris is a problem, but he’s not an imminent threat.”

She made a face, looking downward. “I suppose I’m not hiding it very well. Yes, I’m unhappy with this operation, but if you asked me to list reasons not to go ahead with it, I would be hard-pressed to give you any, and I agree with the reasons why we need to eliminate the threat posed by Haris without waiting for things to get worse. I also agree that the level of arrests and executions at Ulindi indicate that Haris feels weak and is taking desperate measures to shore up his position. What happens to your Colonel Morgan if we called it off?”

“I can get word to Morgan to get herself out of Ulindi. She’ll be able to do it.”

“Unfortunately, you’re probably right.” Iceni sighed, running one hand through her hair.

“There is also the consideration,” Drakon said, “of what happens to Ulindi if we don’t go ahead with this, but Haris gets downsized by local opposition and someone loyal to the Syndicate hands Ulindi back to the CEOs on Prime.”

“Too many worries. There are always too many. We never have time to lay one completely to rest before others occupy our attention.” She took a deep breath and looked at him, her expression hardening. “If this operation goes well, and if your Colonel Morgan survives, we will need to talk once you return.”

“About Colonel Morgan?” He watched her nod, then nodded in reply. “I understand.”

“Do you? She betrayed you, Artur. She used her position close to you to exploit you when you were at your most vulnerable in order to further her own plans. I happen to agree with you that Colonel Morgan is a tremendously capable individual. She’s also crazier than a loon. That’s a very dangerous combination.”

“Believe me, I know.”

“Then why—” She bit off the question before saying it.

But he knew what it would have been. “Because I was drunk and depressed and stupid.”

His candor didn’t seem to mollify Iceni. “I hope the experience was worth the trouble it has caused us.”

“To be perfectly honest,” Drakon said, “though when the hell are people like you and me perfectly honest? But the truth is I don’t really remember it. I was seriously drunk.”

“You slept with Colonel Morgan and you don’t remember any of it?” For the first time during this conversation, Iceni seemed genuinely amused. “Maybe there is some form of cosmic justice.”

Drakon felt some irritation at that. “I hope you realize by now that it never would have happened if I hadn’t been that drunk.”

“Is that an excuse?” Iceni asked.

“No. I don’t have any excuse. It was a terrible personal and professional failure on my part.”

Something, either the words or the way he said them, finally made Iceni show some limited signs of relenting. “All right. We will talk more about her, about what to do about her, if she gets back. I already told you I was going to send Kommodor Marphissa to command the warships. I’m going to give her two heavy cruisers, two light cruisers, and four Hunter-Killers. That will leave a decent though still-inadequate force to defend this star system, and should offer you a very comfortable margin of superiority over Haris’s mobile forces, as well as a small but adequate bombardment capability to support your landing.”

Drakon nodded. “I won’t deny that I’d love to have the battle cruiser as well.”

“Oh? Are you regretting that gift to me already?”

It took him a moment to realize that Iceni was teasing him. She must be feeling better. “No. You know how to use it a lot better than I do, and I know that Midway needs to be protected while the other warships are gone. Then we’re agreed? We’re going to get the ball rolling?”

Iceni once more took a few seconds to answer, gazing at the star display, unreadable thoughts moving behind her eyes. “Do you remember when this started? When the primary thing worrying you and me at this point would be the fear that when one of us was out of the star system the other would stab them in the back?”

“That’s not what’s worrying you?” he asked.

She paused again, for a long time, then spoke in a rush. “No. What’s worrying me is not having you here.”

Drakon gave her a puzzled frown. “You’re worried about what I’ll do while I’m not here?”

“No! I— Forget it! Forget I said anything until we resolve the issue of that colonel. Yes. Let’s get the ball rolling. The sooner we get rid of Supreme CEO Haris, the better.”

Togo, as deferential and discreet as ever, waited for her to take notice of him.

Iceni closed out the document she was reviewing and looked at him. “Is there a problem?”

“I was asked to ensure that you were aware of the costs involved in the freighter modifications requested by the ground forces,” Togo said.

“I have seen the estimates and approved them. This is an assault operation. The ground forces have to bring a lot of shuttles along and have the means to quickly load the soldiers from the freighters into the shuttles.”

“I understand, Madam President, but the finance directorate—”

“Why am I explaining and justifying my decisions to you or to the finance directorate?” Iceni snapped. She didn’t have to feign being unhappy to give more force to her words. “I’m aware of our current financial situation. The finance directorate should be aware that a defense support payment from Taroa is scheduled to arrive this month.”

“The cost of the mobile forces continues to escalate—” Togo began.

“If you know a way to keep the Syndicate from reconquering this star system without us maintaining a strong force of warships, I would be very pleased to hear it.” Iceni rested her chin on one fist as she glared at Togo. “Mehmet, you have been a valuable assistant. A very valuable assistant, who as far as I can tell has been happy in his job. But I have a growing sense that you are unhappy with your current situation.”

Even Togo couldn’t hear that question from her without revealing some surprise and worry. Questions from CEOs about whether you were happy with your current situation were, in the Syndicate, often precursors to suggestions that your resignation would be a smart move, suggestions that were in fact orders. “Madam President, I have no complaints. I have been honored to serve you and wish to continue doing so.”

“And I wish that you would continue to serve as my special assistant,” Iceni said. “But I must be confident that you are committed to that job.”

“I could not be more strongly committed,” Togo said.

Iceni didn’t bother checking the readouts on her desk that would tell her whether or not Togo was lying. She knew that he could defeat the sensors designed to detect such things. Such talents, among others, made him extremely valuable, but they also made him a source for worry. “I am pleased to hear that,” she said. “Have you been able to identify any previously undetected snake agents, or sources for the rumors that continue to keep the citizens on edge?”

“No, Madam President. I will find them.”

Iceni paused, frowning, then looked at Togo again. “Could you take Colonel Morgan if you were ordered to dispose of her? I don’t want boasting or overconfidence. I want the most accurate estimate you can give me.”

It was hard to tell which emotion Togo was suppressing this time. A smile? Maybe.

“Madam President,” Togo said, pronouncing each word with slow precision, “if I am allowed to choose the time, place, and circumstances, there would be no doubt of the outcome. If any variables are introduced, they would reduce my chances, but I cannot conceive of any scenario in which my odds of success would not be at least two to one. You need only give me the order—”

“I am not giving you such an order. Is that clear? I am considering contingencies.” Iceni leaned forward, arms on her desk, emphasizing each word. “What I need most at this moment is to know who is trying to stir up the citizens. I want names, and I want to know who they are working for. Get that for me, and get it as soon as possible.”

Togo nodded, not revealing his feelings about the assignment. “It will be done, Madam President.”

“What about that mob operation diverting manufacturing output to the black market? Are we ready to shut that down?”

“Whenever you give the order, Madam President. However,” Togo added in his most diplomatic tone of voice, “recent changes to the legal system will complicate inflicting the appropriate punishments for all guilty parties.”

Iceni felt her lips twist into a darkly amused smile as she gazed back at Togo. “I have developed an interest in wanting only those parties actually guilty of something to be punished.”

“They are all certainly guilty of something,” Togo argued.

“Then there should not be too much difficulty in ensuring they are found guilty and punished,” Iceni said. “The changes to our legal system are, so far, fairly minor compared to those that have existed elsewhere and currently exist in the Alliance. Have you ever wondered why the Syndicate suffers from such high levels of corruption and crime when it assigns such strong penalties and guarantees convictions of anyone even suspected of wrongdoing?”

“People are inherently corrupt,” Togo said, both face and voice impassive.

“Are they? I used to be as certain as you are. Now I want to know more.” She leaned forward again, eyes on Togo. “Because if that’s wrong, then any actions based on an erroneous assessment are likely to be wrong as well, or at least far less efficient than they should be. I don’t want anyone making the mistake of assuming that I am going soft. My goal is to make certain that the right people are caught, and that the right people are punished in ways that reinforce my authority. In the past, my enemies could be fairly confident that they knew what I would do and how I would do it. Now they cannot be confident of what I will do or what methods I will employ.”

Togo blinked. “I… understand, Madam President. My apologies for underestimating your subtlety and cunning.”

“You’re a lucky man,” Iceni told him. “Most of the people who learned not to underestimate me found out their error too late to save themselves. Tell the police to move ahead on busting the black-market operation. I want to see how that is handled under the changes to the legal system. After that, stop by the finance directorate and inform them that, if there is any further delay in approving payments for those freighter modifications, I will choose some executives from the directorate at random to accompany General Drakon’s ground forces during their assault. I’m sure the general can use a few special volunteers to spearhead his attacks.”

Colonel Roh Morgan, wearing the suit of a junior executive fifth class in the Syndicate ground forces, sat nursing a drink in one of the Junior Executive Break Networking Universal Training Personal Improvement Limited Refreshment Facilities inside the primary ground forces base on Ulindi. Like any Syndicate-designed military base, it was heavily fortified, prepared to withstand attack not only from the Alliance but also from the citizens of the planet if those citizens should be so foolish as to stage a rebellion. That had made it a little harder for Morgan to infiltrate, but with the snakes and other security forces combing the city itself for her, no one had spent much time checking the identification documents of a nondescript junior executive who was entering the base.

While Syndicate bureaucrats had over the decades added on one after another officially approved descriptive terms for what was essentially a blandly decorated bar that could also be used as a meeting room, those bureaucrats had adamantly refused to add on a single comma to the name. Since no one who actually used the facilities used the official name, instead just calling it the Jebnut, nobody actually worried about the odd lack of commas.

Jebnuts tended to be inadequately lighted, because the Syndicate used the terms “efficiently” and “cost-effective” where others might have thought “insufficiently” and “least-expensive” were the more appropriate words. However, the dim lighting suited junior executives who wanted to nap during mandatory “voluntary,” “informal” training sessions, and now suited Morgan well as she did her best to fade into the background. No one was likely to take notice of one more junior executive of the lowest salary grade who had no visible distinguishing characteristics. Morgan had taken a table against a wall and was once again wearing a combination of makeup and small facial prosthetics that combined with a slightly-too-large version of the standard junior executive fifth class suit rendered her appearance completely unremarkable. Having dealt with countless come-ons in bars and restaurants, Morgan had also perfected the ability to generate a “leave me alone” aura that effectively repelled any mammalian life-form except cats.

A booth a few tables down from her was occupied by several ground forces executives on lunch break from their duties at headquarters. Morgan didn’t expect to hear any major secrets because no one with any brains spilled major secrets in a Syndicate facility that was surely being monitored by the snakes, but a lot could be learned from routine talk among people who dealt with so many classified items that they no longer could tell what really mattered.

“It’s off-limits,” one of them was telling the others. “Sealed off.”

“Any idea why? We don’t have people deployed to that training area,” another asked.

“Maybe the… you know… security. Maybe they’re using it.”

“The Supreme CEO’s people? Maybe.”

“Then maybe we better talk about something else.”

There was a pause, then someone else started talking. “Did you hear about the comm stand-down? If you’ve got anything that needs to go out, better get it sent.”

“Stand-down? What are they standing down?”

“Everything. There’s some check of systems going to be carried out looking for unauthorized taps and security effectiveness and all that junk. It’s no secret. But everything will be silenced for seventy-two hours. Landlines, networks, over-the-air junk, everything.”

“How the hell are we supposed to get anything done during those seventy-two hours?”

“Does this mean I’ll have to talk to the people at the desks near me? I hope not.”

“They’re probably hoping the same thing.”

“Seriously, this isn’t some investigation? It’s just a complete comm-system check?”

“That’s the official word. They wanted a period of time when everything was quiet before they ran the check, so this means they’re not expecting any trouble during those seventy-two hours.”

“They better get all of those shuttle drills done by then.”

“Those still going on?”

“Yeah. Every shuttle is out at dispersed landing locations doing recertification drills. They got them going up into low orbit and down again all night long.”

“Maybe they’re running them that hard to get the drills done before the comm stand-down.”

“Yeah.”

Another pause, then a voice pitched lower than before. “My boss said to be ready for some deployments.”

“Deployments? Where? I thought CEO— I mean, the Supreme CEO only controlled this star system.”

“For now.”

“Could that be what the shuttle drills are about? Getting ready for combat drops?”

“Guys, shut the hell up. If it is, we shouldn’t be talking.”

“Yeah, especially now, what with…”

Another pause.

“It’s always been bad, but—”

“Shut up.”

“You must have heard about Jarulzki—”

“Shut up!”

Silence fell, a quiet that Morgan knew would last this time. She wondered what, if anything, the unfortunate Jarulzki had done. If the high rate of arrests among the citizens was any indicator, the snakes would also have been raking in for questioning higher than usual numbers of military personnel.

But the talk of a sealed-off training area was something new. And an upcoming comm moratorium. And intense shuttle training. Was Haris getting ready to launch an attack on another star system, or was this entirely related to internal security at Ulindi?

There was only one way to find out.

Given the time since she had left Midway, and the time required to assemble an assault force, Morgan guessed that General Drakon and his forces should arrive in Ulindi within the next few days. That left time to check on this information and ensure that it wasn’t anything the general would need to worry about during his conquest of Ulindi.

As Morgan made her way back out of the base, she spent some time considering who Drakon would be bringing. The entire division? Maybe. That would give her a chance to check on what Rogero was up to. Why Drakon had kept him and Gaiene in their command positions baffled her. Gaiene was bad enough, half-drunk half the time, but at least (unlike Rogero) his sleeping partners were harmless. Rogero, though, with his Alliance girlfriend, was another matter. He had also shown far too much interest in working closely with that Iceni woman. Was Rogero selling out to the Alliance, or to Iceni, or playing both to see who coughed up the best deal?

And Malin. That little slime would be up to something, too. Maybe here at Ulindi, his luck would finally run out. If there was only some way to nail him herself in such a manner that the general couldn’t possibly trace it back to her. But she had far too much respect for Drakon to assume he would not be able to track an assassination of Malin to its source.

Well, Haris’s forces might do the job for her.

The only thing she couldn’t understand, given the loathing she had felt for Malin since first meeting him, was why the thought of him dead caused any kind of mixed emotions in her.

Marphissa waited for the drop out of jump space. The only good part of the mental jolt that left humans unable to think or focus clearly for up to half a minute after leaving jump space was that no one was immune. Unlike most ailments in which some people were never affected, such as motion sickness, the jump-space jolt was endured by everyone. Nobody got a free ride by virtue of genetics or experience or training. The universe might be fundamentally unfair, but at least in this one way all humans operated on a level playing field.

All humans. Did the enigmas, the Kicks, or the Dancers suffer the same way? She wished that Bradamont was here to ask. Hell. I wish Honore was here for a lot of reasons. She has so much more experience than I do in just about everything.

“Departing jump in fifteen seconds,” Senior Watch Specialist Czilla warned.

Marphissa braced herself for the exit from jump space. Everyone did that, everyone always did that, even though it didn’t make any difference at all.

Manticore fell out of jump space.

A moment before, the heavy cruiser had been apparently alone except for the occasional inexplicable lights that were the only relief from the dull grayness of jump space. Abruptly, Manticore was surrounded by the other ships of the flotilla, while the stars once again looked down upon them all from the endless dark of the universe.

Manticore and the other warships, the heavy cruiser Gryphon, light cruisers Hawk and Eagle, and the small, swift Hunter-Killers Sentry, Sentinel, Scout, and Defender, all of them shepherding the twenty large, clumsy freighters carrying the two brigades of ground forces. The freighters normally looked awkward, but more so now with dozens of aerospace shuttles fastened to their exteriors like remoras clinging to whales.

Marphissa kept her eyes locked on her display, waiting for it to update with information on what was in Ulindi Star System. Certain things would definitely be here and unchanged, the things that had existed at Ulindi for untold years before humans came and gave the star a name, and would continue to be here when the last trace of humanity’s presence had crumbled into ancient dust. A star a bit cooler and a bit larger than Mother Sol, the standard against which all stars continued to be measured by humans. Ten orbiting objects large enough to qualify as planets, two of them swinging around less than two light-minutes from the star, far too close to it and far too hot by human standards. Another a bit farther out at four light-minutes, but still too close, so that its oceans had long since formed a permanent hothouse. Six more planets whose orbits ranged from ten light-minutes to nearly five light-hours from the star, too far out and too cold to be suitable for humans to walk around freely, getting progressively more frigid the farther they were from the sun, the middle three of them gas giants.

And one planet swinging around its star at seven and a half light-minutes’ distance. As planets went, it was just the sort of place humanity wanted. About sixty percent of the surface covered with water, a minor axial tilt so seasonal variations weren’t too extreme, and plenty of native vegetation and other forms of life that over millions of years had transformed a world of raw rock, water, and a heavily carbon dioxide atmosphere into a place of oxygen, dirt, and trees.

About a million humans made their homes at Ulindi, most of them on that planet. Some of the rest were in space, and some of those were on warships. “There’s the heavy cruiser and the light cruiser,” Kapitan Diaz said as the symbols appeared on his display. Both were orbiting the habitable planet, nearly six light-hours away from where the ships from Midway had arrived. Haris’s two warships would not know the attack on Ulindi had begun until they saw the light from the event reach them six hours from now.

The few other defenses that were visible at Ulindi all matched the descriptions Marphissa’s warships had received before leaving Midway. “That spy did good work,” she commented. “There’s nothing here that we didn’t expect to find, and no threats anywhere near us. As long as we keep those two cruisers away from the freighters carrying the ground forces, this shouldn’t be too hard.”

“Not compared to fighting off Syndicate flotillas,” Diaz agreed.

Marphissa gazed at the description of the habitable planet. “That’s a nice little world,” she said out loud.

Kapitan Diaz nodded and snorted at the same time. “Soon we’ll be dropping bombardment projectiles on that nice little world.”

“Not all that many compared to what a big flotilla could accomplish,” Marphissa said. “We’ll do some serious localized damage, but that’s it. A lot of nice little worlds like this were bombarded to hell and back during the war.”

“We’re not going to do that,” Diaz objected. “Like you said, just localized damage to military targets. And the snakes. We could never do what was done to Kane.”

“No. I hope not.” Marphissa looked over at Diaz. “I’ve talked to Honore Bradamont about that, about how horrified Black Jack was when he came back and found out the Alliance was bombarding cities and towns indiscriminately. Yes, that was true. Black Jack could not believe that his own people were doing that. Bradamont researched it afterward, trying to learn when the policy had changed, and found out there was never one big decision made. It was lots of little decisions, doing one thing, then another thing, each little thing justified when a big decision to just bombard cities never would have been approved. But before they knew it, there they were, and they didn’t even realize what had happened, what they were doing that would have horrified those ancestors they care about so much.”

“You believe her?” Diaz asked. “Maybe she was taught it happened that way, like we were taught that the Alliance started the war and everything else bad.”

“Oh, she was taught it was all the Syndicate’s fault,” Marphissa agreed. “But she researched it, using classified access to learn for sure what happened. And that’s important for us. For you and me. Between Black Jack’s time and not so long ago, the Alliance fleet gradually started doing things they never would have done. That could happen to us. We have to make sure it never does, and pass on to those who come after us that it must never happen.”

“We could never—” Diaz began, then stared at his display with a pained look. “I wonder how many people said that over the last century, then found themselves doing things. You’re right, Kommodor. It has to be something stronger than a rule or law that can be changed or ignored. It has to be something that no one would even imagine changing.”

“There, you see?” Marphissa said. “As long as you say you’re right, Kommodor, everything is fine. Remember that.”

Diaz grinned. “Yes, Kommodor. But what would be strong enough to ensure our people do not find themselves on such a road?”

“I don’t know. Maybe show those vids from Kane. We could do that once a year, on the anniversary. Kane Day, to remember what separates us from the Syndicate.” She could sense the reaction from the crew on the bridge, a feeling of approval, support, and determination. “But that is for the future. Now, let’s get to that planet and get rid of Supreme CEO Haris.”

Marphissa gave the orders that brought the warships and freighters around a bit and down, slowly accelerating. At an average velocity of point zero five light, which would push the lumbering freighters to the limits of their capabilities, it would take five days to reach the planet where Haris and his two warships awaited them. “All ships return to standard readiness conditions,” Marphissa ordered.

“Kapitan?” the comms specialist said. “Something has happened with communications in this star system. They’ve stopped.”

Diaz glanced back at her, frowning again. “Which comms have stopped? Why?”

“All of them, Kapitan. I’m not picking up anything. The last message we received was commence stand-down. That came from the inhabited world. Then everything went silent.”

“A complete comm stand-down?” Diaz looked over at Marphissa. “That’s unusual. But it can’t be related to our arrival. That stand-down message was sent nearly six hours before we got here.”

“Kapitan.” The comm specialist spoke again. “We’re continuing to analyze the comm traffic. Some of the last messages we picked up talked about an upcoming stand-down and suggested it was security-related.”

Marphissa frowned, thinking as she looked at her display. “Maybe that spy who gave us the information about the defenses here tripped some alerts. If he or she was digging around in databases, it might have led Haris’s snakes to order a stand-down to look for the access points and other vulnerabilities. You’re right that it can’t have been caused by our arrival here. The times don’t line up. Let me know as soon as comms go active again,” she ordered, then touched her own comm controls.

General Drakon responded within a few seconds. He must have been on the bridge of the freighter he was riding. He had that rumpled look that anyone acquired when riding freighters, an appearance born of not enough room for clothes, not enough opportunities to get clean, and not enough room of any kind. It brought to mind the old joke about lots of small confined spaces inside a large confined space inside an infinity of empty space. “How does it look, Kommodor?” he asked her.

Marphissa waved outward. “No surprises, General. Haris’s two warships are orbiting the inhabited world. I’ll notify you when they break orbit there. No other defenses aside from the minor ones identified by our agent.”

“Good. How long until we reach our objective?”

“Five days, General. I should mentioned that there’s some unusual comm activity, or rather lack of comm activity. It looks like a total comm stand-down that began six hours before we arrived here. There are some indications that it might be security-related.”

Drakon nodded. “They’ve probably been dealing with a lot of intrusions lately,” he commented. “Let me know how long it lasts.”

Marphissa, expecting Drakon to demand from her a detailed description of her plans for dealing with Haris’s cruisers, was no longer sure what to say. “We’ll get the freighters safely to the inhabited world, General.”

“I never doubted that, Kommodor. Give me a heads-up if anything changes. Otherwise, we’ll plan for the drop one hundred twenty hours from now.”

She eyed the place where Drakon’s image had been, trying to sort out her feelings. Marphissa still had vague suspicions about the general. She had heard rumors that he was plotting against the president, but never any details. And Honore Bradamont trusted General Drakon, said he was loyal to President Iceni, as hard as that was to believe. After all, Drakon had been a Syndicate CEO.

But then, so had President Iceni.

And, for whatever reasons, General Drakon was giving every indication of trusting Marphissa to do her job well.

Despite her earlier ambivalence, Marphissa found herself wanting to make sure that she did not let the general down.

Gwen Iceni, irritable with General Drakon and worried about having two-thirds of his soldiers and half of her operational warships gone from Midway, decided to question CEO Jason Boyens again. If he didn’t reveal anything worthwhile this time, she might authorize some coercive measures on him just to make herself feel better.

Unfortunately, she knew that authorizing coercive measures wouldn’t make her feel better, and in fact would make her feel worse, which only made her more irritable.

She took a seat in front of the wall-sized virtual window that gave a clear view of the cell Boyens occupied. As cells went, it wasn’t bad, with halfway-comfortable furnishings. Boyens, having been told that Iceni was coming to speak with him, was already seated in a chair facing her. There were several rooms and armored walls between where the two sat, but they appeared to be facing each other separated by only a couple of meters. “To what do I owe the honor of your visit?” Boyens asked in a cheery voice.

“I’m trying to decide how to kill you,” Iceni said flatly, “and was hoping to get some inspiration from conversing with you.”

He grinned. “Gwen, if you were going to kill me, I’d be dead before I knew what you were intending.”

“Then you should be aware how close you are to that,” Iceni said. “Your failure to provide us with any more useful information is leading me to conclude that you are actually here as a Syndicate agent. Tell me why I shouldn’t have you disposed of simply to eliminate that possibility.”

Boyens sobered and sighed heavily. “The only thing keeping me alive is what I know. Once you have it, how do I know you won’t dispose of me as no longer useful?”

“You claim to know me, and yet you say that?”

He watched her, then nodded with clear reluctance. “I know you well enough to know when you mean what you say. Does Drakon feel the same way?”

“He did when he left.”

“Left?” Boyens looked startled. “He left this star system? With you in charge?”

She felt amused by that, by her ability to surprise someone used to the ways that Syndicate CEOs normally operated. “Yes.”

“So it’s just you now.” Boyens made it a statement, not a question, then looked mildly surprised when she shook her head.

“General Drakon and I are partners,” Iceni said.

“Oh.”

The way Boyens said that one word, and the careful lack of visible reaction on his face, irritated her even more. “I’m not referring to any personal relationship,” Iceni snapped at him. “It is purely professional, not that it is any business of yours. All you need to know is that both General Drakon and I know the other will not betray them.” That was an overstatement, of course, and Boyens probably wouldn’t believe a word of it. What surprised Iceni was discovering as she said it that the statement felt like the truth to her.

Boyens nodded apologetically. “It’s your star system. You get to run it however you want. Can you… tell me where Drakon went?”

“If I do, I’d better get something extremely useful in exchange for the information.”

Boyens hesitated, then nodded again. “Deal.”

“He’s gone to Ulindi.”

Boyens stared at her, visibly rattled. “Ulindi? You’re sending forces to Ulindi?”

“That’s what I said.”

“You— How many? How large a force?”

Iceni eyed him, wondering what Boyens was up to. “Why should I provide you with that information as well?”

He looked down, chewing his lip, and remained silent for several seconds. Finally, Boyens looked back at her and shrugged. “All right. I didn’t want to play one of my last trump cards. You’re going after Haris, right?”

“Supreme CEO Haris, yes,” Iceni confirmed. “Why does that concern you so much? Is he a friend of yours?”

“Haris? The only friends Haris cultivates are those that can help him gain a promotion.” Boyens grimaced, running one hand through his hair. “But he’s not really Supreme CEO. I mean, he didn’t come up with that title. The snakes did.”

“The snakes?” Iceni felt a chill run down her spine. “Haris is acting under orders?”

“That’s right. He didn’t really claim any autonomy. It’s all theater. Haris is just as much a part of the Syndicate ISS as he always was.” Boyens leaned forward, his expression urgent. “The Syndicate has reinforcements ready to commit to Ulindi. I don’t know what those reinforcements are or how many there are. It was all within snake channels, and I couldn’t risk snooping into those very much. But Haris has more firepower than you think he does.”

Iceni cupped her chin with one hand as she studied Boyens. All of the interrogation-cell indicators glowed green, so either Boyens was amazingly talented at fooling interrogation gear or he truly believed what he was telling her. “We had some very good preoperational surveillance,” Iceni finally said. “It didn’t spot those reinforcements that you are claiming exist.”

“It wouldn’t! Nothing at Ulindi has any records of that! There are total cutouts between Ulindi and the rest of the Syndicate, just as if Haris had really broken off from the Syndicate. But any ISS sources left at Midway who spotted any of your preparations to hit Ulindi would have passed information back to the snakes, and the snakes would have timed reinforcements to get to Ulindi and hammer whatever you sent. Given the time lag involved in passing information, your sources at Ulindi wouldn’t have been able to get word back here of the reinforcements arriving at Ulindi before your attack force left.”

Boyens held both of his hands before him, palms turned toward her, his voice pleading. “Look, I know you have reason to be skeptical of me. But I don’t want you and Drakon to be crushed, and I know you guys can’t afford to lose a big chunk of what forces you have. I’m telling you that whatever you sent to Ulindi isn’t going to be enough. Your attack force is walking into a trap.”