Perilous Shield

Chapter Two

“Madam President,” Kommodor Asima Marphissa said with the same exaggerated formality as if she were speaking at a funeral service. “There is no need to explain the options before us.”

“No,” Iceni replied, trying not to reveal in her words or expression the icy ball in the pit of her stomach as she waited for Marphissa to either openly betray her or demand a huge price for continued loyalty. She had not left the command center and knew that Drakon was also watching from a slight distance even though he could not hear her conversation. “What is that you want?”

Since Marphissa’s flagship (former Syndicate Worlds heavy cruiser C-448 now renamed Manticore) was in orbit near this planet, there was no noticeable delay time in the transmission. However, Marphissa paused as if reluctant to speak.

The first giant betrayal is the hardest, Iceni thought bitterly. Don’t worry, girl. They get easier as time goes on. But the Kommodor’s next words were not those Iceni had expected.

“I request permission to proceed with the flotilla to join up with the two heavy cruisers at the mobile forces facility orbiting the gas giant.”

“What purpose would that serve?” Iceni asked, now trying to hide her surprise. Moving toward the gas giant at the current point in its orbit would take Marphissa and her ships considerably closer to the enigmas but only marginally closer to Boyens and his flotilla.

“To defend the star system,” Marphissa explained. “To defend the people.”

Iceni shook her head, as much in puzzlement as in disagreement. That woman rose to executive rank in the Syndicate system. She must have learned how to negotiate better than that. “Let me put it more plainly, Kommodor. I ask again, what do you want?”

“To combine my forces, Madam President.”

“Even combined, your forces are inadequate to deal with the threat from either opponent in this star system!” If she wanted to acquire the other two heavy cruisers, she could just order them to join her en route to one of the jump points. Why won’t she lay out her demands?

But Kommodor Marphissa just nodded in agreement. “Yes, Madam President. That is correct. We cannot hope to defeat either the enigma armada nor the Syndicate flotilla. But, if my forces are combined, I will have a better chance of striking some damaging blows at them before my warships are destroyed. We will fight as long as we can.”

Iceni felt herself hesitating this time, thrown off-balance by the completely unexpected. Not demands, and not a kiss of death, but an offer to sacrifice yourself? It’s not just words with you? You truly believe in what you are doing? “Kommodor,” Iceni said, determined to bring everything out into the open, “you are aware that I cannot force you to take such an action. You are also aware that other options exist.”

Marphissa’s image nodded again. “Of course they do, Madam President.”

“Then why would you stay to fight, Kommodor?” Iceni demanded.

“For the people, Madam President.”

“What did you say?” Iceni asked, thinking she must have missed Marphissa’s actual reply and only caught the end of the transmission.

“I am staying, this flotilla is staying, to fight for the people, Madam President.”

Once again, Iceni took a few moments to answer as she tried to find the right words. “For the people? You intend waging a hopeless fight for people who are certain to die anyway? For an ideal?”

“Death is a certainty for us all sooner or later, Madam President. I would rather die for an ideal than for profit, or live knowing that I would not do all that I could to defend those who cannot defend themselves. I know you only ask me because you want to be certain that I believe as you do, that I am also willing to die for those who depend upon me.”

Iceni barely avoided betraying her shock this time. Die for the people? Does she think I’m that naïve?

I did reject Togo’s advice to flee immediately. But I did that because…

Why the hell did I do that?

Not to look weak compared to Artur Drakon. That must have been the reason.

And now she had to worry about how she looked next to Kommodor Marphissa, who was one of the few people in this star system who might have a chance to escape but instead was choosing to stay and fight a hopeless battle.

For the people.

Marphissa’s workers also knew what choices she had, the crews, now designated specialists by Iceni’s orders to give them pride in their particular jobs. Those words would inspire the crews, help them fight when the fight was without hope. But Marphissa’s attitude, as useful as it was in this extreme case, could also create problems in the future.

If there were other days or a future for them all, which seemed extremely unlikely at the moment. “Very well, Kommodor. Take your flotilla to the gas giant, unite your forces, and defend this star system.” She issued the death sentence for those warships and their crews with the sort of pang she had long since learned to bury away inside when ordering the executions of individuals.

“Yes, Madam President.” The Kommodor paused. “One question, Madam President. The entire flotilla? I can leave one Hunter-Killer in orbit in case it is needed after the rest of the flotilla has been destroyed.”

In case it was needed for Iceni to flee this planet, this star system.

Do you want me to die “for the people” or not, you young fool? Iceni silently demanded of Marphissa’s image. Nonetheless, faced with the final decision, she knew the answer. She would stay. Sending off all the warships, every fast means of escaping, meant the commitment was real. Maybe I’ve gone crazy. But I have started to build something here, dammit! It may be flawed and it may be foolish but it is mine! I will not leave it to the enigmas or to Boyens. I won’t even leave it to Drakon. It is mine. Including my insane Kommodor and her crews rushing off to fight a battle in the name of ideals the Syndicate Worlds gave lip service to but tried in every way to eradicate.

Rushing off to die by my order, in my name, because they believe I also accept such ideals. Am I to be proud of that or shamed by it? All of my training and experiences in the Syndicate tell me that only a fool would feel either emotion.

I suppose I am a fool.

Iceni shook her head. “No. All warships are to go with you. General Drakon and I will remain in charge here.”

“We knew that would be your answer,” Marphissa said, smiling. She brought her right fist over to rest above her left breast in the Syndicate salute, but gave the routine gesture a ceremonious solemnity. “For the people, Marphissa, out.”

You knew? How could you have known when I didn’t know until this moment? During her long and distasteful climb to CEO rank, almost every mentor of Iceni’s had warned her against subordinates who assumed too much or who acted in inexplicable ways.

But it was done. The decision had been made. And Marphissa had provided excellent service in the past. She would no doubt continue to be invaluable for however many hours she and her warships continued to exist.

Iceni dropped her privacy field and looked toward General Drakon. “I have ordered Kommodor Marphissa to take all warships out of orbit. They will meet up with the other heavy cruisers at the gas giant, and the unified flotilla will engage…” Iceni swallowed, wondering why her throat had suddenly tightened. “Will engage the enemy, fighting until they are destroyed,” she finished.

A prolonged silence was broken by the respectful voice of Colonel Malin. “All warships, Madam President?”

“Yes, that is what I said,” Iceni snapped, not certain why she felt so angry at the question. She pretended not to be aware of the subdued reaction sweeping through the command center, of the workers looking at her with amazement and gratitude. You are happy because I’m not leaving you to your deaths? Is it so easy to buy your loyalty?

Drakon walked toward her, moving with reassuring solidity. She hadn’t realized how much she liked that, to see him stride forward, all stubbornness and strength. An anchor in a world where all certainties had given way. “Good,” he said, as if Iceni’s words reflected some prior consultation and agreement. “Let’s talk about our plans for defending this planet.”

“Certainly,” she said. A man who publicly backs my decisions without hesitation and yet maintains his own authority! If only you weren’t a CEO, Artur Drakon. I could love a man like you if I could trust you.

She let her gaze flit across Colonel Malin, looking for any indication of warning in his eyes or posture. Drakon had no idea that Malin had been for years secretly providing her with inside information, and he would have included one of his most trusted aides in any plans to betray her. But Malin gave no sign of warning as Iceni turned to walk beside Drakon toward one of the secure conference rooms opening onto the command center.

“What exactly did your Kommodor say?” Drakon asked, as the door sealed, and the small security lights over it turned green to confirm the room’s countermeasures were active.

Iceni told him.

“Damn,” Drakon said. “She really is an idealist. I didn’t think there were any of them left in the Syndicate Worlds. Or anywhere else.”

“There probably won’t be any of them left in this star system much longer. She worries me,” Iceni said.

“I can see why. But you need someone like that in a fight like this.”

“And after the fight is over?” Iceni asked.

“The strongest horse is the hardest to handle,” Drakon said.

“What the hell does that mean?

“It means that the best subordinates need to be led rather than coerced, but they usually turn out to be worth it in a crisis.” He looked around, his hands moving, as if seeking something else to do. “I’ll keep my troops digging in. Most of that activity will be in the cities and towns, which might upset the citizens. But if it comes to a fight to the death, my soldiers can hold out the longest in an urban environment even if it’s been pounded to rubble by the enigmas.”

Iceni leaned both hands on the table in the center of the room, gazing at the synthetic coral surface but seeing in her mind’s eye the multitude of islands that dotted the planet. “The aliens are four and a half light-hours away. If their ships perform like ours do, we have three or four days before they can get here, depending on exactly where the enigmas go. Would it make sense to evacuate the citizens? Disperse them among the islands?”

“Can they get food and water?”

“From the oceans, yes. Fishing boats can deliver their catches to the islands instead of port cities, and there are many portable desalinization units.”

Drakon shrugged, looking unhappy. “It’s your call, but if you send citizens out to the islands, they’ll be easily spotted by the enigmas when the alien ships get close enough.”

“And then every island will be a target for bombardment,” Iceni said. “And the small islands will be more concentrated targets than the cities are.” She knew how it worked. She had participated in some planetary bombardments during the war with the Alliance, giving her memories that she shied away from, as well as the occasional nightmare despite every treatment modern medical science could offer to cope with what someone might have seen. Or done. “There’s not enough land area on this planet to disperse everyone.”

“No,” Drakon agreed. “There isn’t.”

“And any large bombardment projectiles that hit the water will generate tidal waves that swamp the low islands. I’ll do what I can to keep the citizens calm and work out a limited evacuation. Maybe the enigmas won’t slaughter civilian families if they’re unarmed and obviously no threat.” She knew that was wishful thinking. Drakon was trying to hide his skepticism and not quite succeeding, but she couldn’t blame him for that.

“We don’t know what has happened to citizens in star systems taken over by the enigmas,” Drakon pointed out.

“We know we’ve never heard any trace of them afterward.” Iceni took a deep breath, stood straight, and met Drakon’s eyes. “I’ll do what I can and keep sending occasional messages to the enigmas and Boyens. If either of them reply, I’ll negotiate.”

“And I’ll make sure my troops are ready when the enigmas get here.” He offered her a half-mocking salute. “Did you ever watch those old drama vids? The ones about that ancient empire and its arena fights to the death?”

“Yes. The gladiators. We who are about to die salute you.” She returned Drakon’s salute, smiling sardonically. “Are you going to betray me, Artur?”

He looked back at her, no answering smile appearing. “No. Do you believe me?”

I want to. “I think we both have no chance of survival, no matter what we do. It’s annoying, actually. I always hoped that I’d be able to choose my own death.”

Drakon glowered at the floor, then raised his gaze to her. “It won’t be a stab in the back. Not from me.”

He sounded like he really meant it.

“What the hell are they doing?” In her frustration, Iceni spoke her thoughts out loud. “It’s been twelve hours, and they’re just sitting there!”

The only other person in the office off the command center was Mehmet Togo, who seemed momentarily uncertain as to whether he was expected to reply.

Iceni glared at the much smaller version of the star-system display floating above the conference table in this office. “I know what Boyens is doing. He hasn’t answered me, and his flotilla hasn’t moved because he’s minimizing the risks to himself. He’s going to do nothing, pretending to be ready to charge to the rescue of the humans here while actually preparing to run back to the hypernet gate and escape.”

“If he does flee,” Togo pointed out impassively, “then CEO Boyens will have to provide justifications for his superiors back on Prime explaining why he could not save this star system from the enigmas.”

“He’s doubtless working on those excuses right now,” Iceni said scathingly. “Prime won’t accept the impossible odds as a justification, especially since it looks like Boyens will have to claim he did all that he could but didn’t suffer a single scratch fighting either us or the enigmas. But his excuses don’t have to be valid. They just have to sound good. I understand Boyens and what he is doing well enough. But the enigmas. What are they doing?”

She glared at the display again as if it could be intimidated into providing the answer that Togo could not. The enigmas had proceeded in-system only thirty light-minutes from the jump point from Pele where they had arrived. The alien attack force had braked there, all two hundred twenty-two ships, and since that time had hung in orbit, unmoving relative to that jump point.

“What possible reason would they have for sitting there?” Iceni demanded. “We’re at their mercy. They must know that.”

She shot to her feet and walked out of the office, ready to demand that someone in the command center provide an explanation for the inexplicable.

The first person Iceni’s eyes locked on was General Drakon, standing talking in a small group that consisted of him, Colonel Malin, and Colonel Morgan. Note to self, Iceni thought as she concealed her reaction to seeing Morgan again. If we survive this, have a long talk with Drakon about why he keeps that murderous bitch around. Loyalty to subordinates is one thing, and Togo has told me enough about how capable and deadly Morgan is to make it clear why Drakon values her, but the woman is borderline psychotic. I don’t care if she got that way because of what the Syndicate did to her on that mission into enigma space. That’s not my fault or my problem.

And she slept with that idiot male Drakon when he got too drunk to know better. I have no doubt that she knew what she was doing, though. What was her goal? That encounter has only ensured that Drakon won’t risk any similar outcome again. What was Morgan after?

And why does it bother me so much to know that Drakon slept with her? Because it proves that even Drakon is just a foolish man at his core? Or because… ?

No. I know better. Mixing business and pleasure is a recipe for disaster.

Colonel Malin still wasn’t giving any subtle warnings of danger for Iceni, and in the last day he had not used any of the available convoluted means of passing information to her. Either Drakon wasn’t planning anything against her or he had kept Malin in the dark. Had he been doubled against her, passing information with Drakon’s knowledge so that in a case such as this he could keep Iceni in the dark and lull her into complacency? Or were Malin’s priorities his own? What is your game, Colonel Malin?

She could never tell whether such worries were legitimate or a product of the Syndicate system in which she had grown up and been promoted. Paranoia made sense when lots of people were almost always out to get you. But it crippled you as well, which Iceni had realized was the intent. An environment built on distrust had hindered attempts to band together against the Syndicate leadership.

Drakon looked over at Iceni as she approached, a very brief smile flickering into existence before he extinguished it.

Did the man actually like her? That was an intriguing thought.

“The enigmas are not going anywhere,” Iceni said without preamble, outwardly ignoring the presence of both Colonels Malin and Morgan, just as Drakon ignored Togo where he stood to the left and slightly behind Iceni. Togo had shifted position a bit as they came to a stop, ensuring that he had a clear shot at Morgan if she twitched in a threatening manner. Neither Drakon nor Iceni made any sign they had noticed that, either.

Drakon nodded in response to Iceni’s statement, displaying frustration that matched her own. “I noticed. What’s your guess?”

“I have none.”

“All I have is a wild estimate based on human behavior.” Drakon swung an angry hand toward the main display, where the images of the far-distant enigma ships were shown clearly. “If this were a human force, the only reason they wouldn’t attack was if they had orders to wait for someone or something.”

“Waiting? For what?”

“I don’t know. But if these guys were human, I’d assume they had orders not to attack until some exact time, or to wait until some CEO who wanted credit for the victory showed up, or until reinforcements they didn’t need arrived.”

Iceni frowned as she looked at the display. “Those reasons would make sense. If the enigmas were human.”

“And I know they’re not.” Drakon shrugged. “Maybe they’re like us in that way, though.”

“It would be nice to think we’re not the only intelligent species capable of such mindless behavior. There’s nothing we can do even if they are being stupid, though,” Iceni said.

“We could attack,” Drakon replied with a sardonic grin.

“If they’re waiting for that, they’ll be waiting awhile. Kommodor Marphissa is still on her way toward the gas giant.”

“Where will she go after she picks up the other two cruisers?”

“I’ve ordered her to await further developments, to see someone else do something, so we know who to react to.”

“Fair enough. What’s going on with the battleship?”

It was Iceni’s turn to shrug. “It stays where it is. For now.”

“Why not get it out of the star system? It doesn’t have any military use for us.”

She sighed wearily. How long had it been since she had slept? “That battleship is, to the eyes of everyone watching, the strongest defensive asset this star system has. It still looks like a mighty warship even to those with access to sensors that tell them its weapons don’t work. What happens if everyone watches it run away?”

Colonel Morgan gave her an appraising glance, as if surprised that Iceni had been astute enough to think of that. That condescending look gave Iceni one more reason to contemplate having Morgan murdered despite her agreement with Drakon not to carry out any unilateral assassinations. But a hit on an assistant that close to Drakon would create massive problems even if it could be carried out successfully. From all Iceni had heard, Morgan would not be easily eliminated even if Iceni chose to send Togo after her.

“So we wait, too,” Drakon said. He didn’t sound any happier about that than Iceni felt. “I’ve been wondering something about the enigmas.”

“If you’re planning on asking me, I hope you don’t expect me to know more than anyone else does.”

“It’s a mobile forces question,” Drakon said, using the old Syndicate term for warships and pointing to the images of the enigma invaders. The alien craft were shaped much like turtles or tortoises, curved carapaces forming flattened hulls, the dark enigma armor glinting dully in the distant light of Midway’s star. “I understand the curved armor. It deflects anything that hits it much better than a flat surface would, and it lacks stress junctions like corners and edges.”

His hand moved to indicate the shapes of the human warships shown elsewhere on the display, sharklike hulls varying from the slim Hunter-Killers and light cruisers to the beefier heavy cruisers. At the gas giant, the battleship Midway rested at the space dock like a much more massive, chunkier version of the heavy cruisers. “Why don’t the enigmas have battleships?” Drakon continued. “Their largest ships aren’t much bigger than our heavy cruisers.”

“Their ships are more maneuverable than ours,” Iceni replied. “And our least maneuverable ships are the battleships because of all the armor, shield generators, and weapons they carry. They’re slow to accelerate and slow to brake and take a very wide radius to change vectors. That sort of sluggish ship may be incompatible with how the enigmas fight.”

“But what about battle cruisers?” Drakon asked. “Aren’t those pretty maneuverable?”

“Yes. Very swift because they have the propulsion of a battleship but not nearly as much armor and significantly less weaponry and shield strength.” Iceni shook her head, looking at the enigma ships. “I don’t know why the enigmas don’t have anything as large as one of our battle cruisers. Maybe Black Jack found out the answer to that.”

Drakon’s expression hardened. “While he was getting his fleet blown away and stirring up the enigmas to attack us again, you mean?”

She found herself defending the Alliance admiral despite how absurd the idea would have been less than a year ago. “We don’t know if the enigmas would have come back anyway. And we don’t know that Black Jack’s fleet was destroyed.”

Malin frowned as he received a report over his link, then faced Drakon. “General, one of our satellites brushed against the edge of a tight-beam communication from this planet aimed toward the Syndicate flotilla.”

She should pretend to be focusing her suspicions elsewhere, but Iceni couldn’t help herself. Her eyes went to Drakon, and found him looking at her. Did you send that transmission? their eyes challenged each other.

Drakon shook his head in answer to the unspoken question. “The snakes must still have agents active on this planet,” he said.

“Yes,” Iceni agreed. “The transmission did not originate from any source known to me. Did we get the origin of the beam localized?”

“No, Madam President,” Malin replied. “The contact was too fleeting, then the beam cut off. It was a burst transmission, so whoever it was could have sent an encyclopedia of information in the brief time it was active.”

“We should still be able to get some indication of where it came from,” Morgan insisted.

Malin gave her a bland look. “Initial analysis narrowed it down to this half of this hemisphere of this planet.”

“And I suppose you’re happy with that level of incompetence?” Morgan said, her tone growing fiercer.

“I’m willing to accept real-world limitations but have no intention of being satisfied with this level of analysis,” Malin replied, maintaining that indifferent expression, doubtless knowing it would further provoke Morgan.

Drakon made a small gesture, and both colonels fell silent even though Morgan had clearly been ready to fire another verbal volley. “I want you two to check the data the satellite picked up. Do it independently and see if either of you can get a better idea of the signal’s location of origin.”

Both officers saluted, Malin returning to a nearby terminal and Morgan walking quickly out of the command center.

“What?” Drakon asked, having noticed how Iceni was regarding him.

“I watched how you handled that,” Iceni said. “I admit I wonder why you keep those two as assistants despite their unquestioned individual skills. But then I saw how you can use their rivalry. If anyone can narrow down the place where that signal originated, it will be one of those two because they’re very good at what they do, and neither one wants the other to succeed where they have failed.”

“That’s pretty much the idea,” Drakon agreed. “They also backstop me and each other. If there’s a flaw in my plans or thinking, one of them will spot it and tell me before the other does. If one of them is missing something, the other will catch it. It makes for some drama, but they both know when to knock it off.”

“Do they?” Iceni asked.

Perhaps something about her tone made it clear she was referring to Morgan because Drakon reddened slightly. “No one is perfect,” he muttered, before turning to study the main display intently.

Iceni wondered if he was talking about Morgan, himself, or her. Had Drakon’s words been an oblique apology, a criticism of her, or a defiant defense of himself?

Why do I care? It’s not like there aren’t much more important things to worry about.

On the display, the Syndicate flotilla and the enigma attack force remained passive, giving no clues as to their intentions. It was very odd how hard it could be to deal with a lack of action.

Twenty-one hours after the arrival of the enigma force, new alerts sounded in the command center. On this part of the planet, it was nearly midnight, but Iceni took only moments to reach the main room, finding Drakon already there.

“What is it?” she asked, trying to reconcile the symbols appearing on the display with her own expectations. But those symbols stubbornly refused to make sense until Drakon suddenly laughed harshly.

“Your hero Black Jack is back.”

She blinked, the symbols abruptly reordering themselves in her mind and finally becoming clear. “The Alliance fleet. The enigmas didn’t destroy it after all.”

“They took out a big chunk of it,” Drakon growled, one hand waving toward the display. “All I’m seeing is battle cruisers, light cruisers, and destroyers, and those numbers are down from what Black Jack left here with.”

Iceni stared, her eyes running from totals to individual ship symbols. “None of the battleships? None of the heavy cruisers? The enigmas hurt that fleet badly.”

Drakon frowned. “How could a mobile force lose just the battleships and heavy cruisers in total?”

“If they needed to escape,” Iceni explained in a voice she could tell had gone cold, her memory conjuring up dark recollections of some events she had witnessed during her time serving with the Syndicate mobile forces. “The battleships are slower, but massive. They form a rear guard, holding off pursuit. In the worst case, they sacrifice themselves so swifter ships can escape to fight another day. I suppose the heavy cruisers stayed with the battleships.”

“Damn.” The one word from Drakon fell heavily, carrying a weight of meaning. “I know how that works in the ground forces. It’s a very hard thing to demand of people, to tell them to fight to the death so others can get away.”

Iceni shook her head, her eyes still on the display. “Their auxiliaries aren’t here, either.”

“Auxiliaries?”

“The repair ships the Alliance uses to accompany their fleets. And the troop transports they had aren’t here, either. The enigmas must have gotten them, too, because they weren’t swift enough to escape.”

“Is it possible,” Drakon asked, “that we’re interpreting this wrong?”

“There’s a way to check.” Iceni took a few steps toward the primary control console. “Give us close-up views of those Alliance ships,” she ordered the operator.

Large virtual windows appeared before her and Drakon, in which every detail of the far-distant ships could be plainly seen. Those ships were four and a half light-hours away, having arrived at the same jump point from which the enigmas had come. Each light-hour was a bit more than a billion kilometers, making the distance to those ships over four and a half billion kilometers. But optics in orbit around this world could see across space with crystal-clear precision. Every detail on the Alliance warships stood out cleanly; so sharp were the images that it was difficult to remember that what they were seeing was light from such distant objects.

“Look at the damage visible on many of those ships,” Iceni pointed out. “They’ve seen hard fighting.” She paused. “Let’s see where they go. Where they went,” she amended. They were seeing the Alliance ships as they had been four and a half hours before now. What had they done afterward? Had Black Jack taken the remnants of his fleet on a swift course for the hypernet gate and a swift journey home? Or would the Alliance warships aim for one of the other jump points that Midway boasted? If they headed for the hypernet gate, they would have to get past the enigmas—“That’s what they’ve been waiting for.”

“What’s that?” Drakon asked.

“The enigmas,” Iceni explained. “You were right. They were waiting for Black Jack. They’re sitting between the jump point for Pele and our hypernet gate. In order for the Alliance fleet to reach the gate, they’ll have to fight their way past the enigmas.”

“The enigmas knew Black Jack’s ships were coming.” Drakon nodded slowly. “They want to finish him off before they engage us. But according to the vectors that display is showing, the Alliance ships are heading straight for the enigmas. They want to fight.”

“If they’re running for home, that doesn’t make much sense, does it? No one ever accused the Alliance fleet of being crewed by cowards, though.”

“No.” Drakon’s eyes had taken on that distant look he acquired when seeing memories rather than what was happening now. “Their ground forces weren’t cowards, either, no matter what Syndicate propaganda claimed. This fleet may have been cut to pieces, but it’s not beaten.” He looked directly at her, eyes now focused intently. “Do we help them?”

“We don’t have much to help them with.” Iceni knew she was dodging the real issue.

Colonel Malin had shown up and now stated that issue directly. “If we choose to assist Black Jack’s fleet in its fight, the gesture will have immense symbolic value. Black Jack will know we stood with him even when the odds were poor. If we stay out of the fight, if we wait to see what happens, that will have immense symbolic value as well, but in a very negative way in the eyes of Black Jack.”

She knew Malin was right, yet she hesitated. I have so few warships to call on. Committing them to this battle might lose them all, and my few cruisers and Hunter-Killers will not tilt the balance in the fight between Black Jack and the enigmas. Moreover, the last twenty-one hours, spent waiting impotently for the enigmas to strike and destroy the human presence at this star, emphasized in the clearest possible way that I cannot afford to depend upon the Alliance to save the day.

Even if we pursue the idea of working with Taroa to get that second battleship finished, it will be several months before it could be available. We need our own ships. But if I don’t risk them, I may lose the most important ally in human-occupied space.

Drakon most likely understood her dilemma because after a few moments, he spoke with measured emphasis. “If we move to aid Black Jack, we might win. If we do nothing, we lose no matter who wins when Black Jack fights the enigmas.”

She didn’t answer, looking down, fighting her own battle against the need to make a decision that could decide everything after it. The safer course would be to wait. Wait like CEO Boyens was doing. There was no doubt of that.

Safer in the very short run.

She could have waited before launching her plans to rebel against the Syndicate government. She could have rebuffed Drakon’s feelers as premature and avoided doing anything that could have condemned her in the eyes of the ISS snakes. And when the snakes got the orders to haul in system CEOs for loyalty checks, as they did, she would have been helpless.

There were times when even an insane risk formed the best option.

“You’re right,” she told Drakon. “Black Jack will not forgive us if we sit out this fight.” Iceni gestured to the command center supervisor. “I need communications to Kommodor Marphissa on the cruiser Manticore.”

It took only a couple of seconds before the supervisor saluted Iceni. “We are ready to transmit, Madam President.”

In her mind’s eye, Iceni could see Marphissa on the bridge of Manticore, the Kommodor doing her best to project determination and courage to a crew that had doubtless grown unhappier with every minute spent evaluating the odds against them. How had they reacted at the sight of the Alliance fleet, a force the habits of their entire lifetimes told them was just as much an enemy as the enigmas? “Kommodor,” Iceni said, “you are to change course as necessary to proceed with your flotilla on a vector to join with and assist the forces of…” She had been about to say the forces of the Alliance. But that wouldn’t do. Not even now, when those Alliance forces were fighting a mutual enemy. A century of war, a century of hate, could not be so easily cast aside. “Assist the forces commanded by Black Jack, which are acting in defense of this star system. You are to respond to any commands given by Black Jack as long as they do not conflict with your responsibilities to me.

“For the people. This is President Iceni, out.”

It was only after the words were out of her mouth that Iceni realized she had emphasized the phrase “for the people” rather than mouthing it like the meaningless phrase it had long been. Since the rebellion led by Iceni and Drakon, there had been a change in the way many at Midway spoke those words. People who actually took the words “for the people” seriously were well motivated, but they also might decide that “the people” would benefit best from different leaders. And yet I also just said them as if the words had meaning. Was Marphissa right? Are the attitudes of my workers rubbing off on me?

Drakon was eyeing her but saying nothing. She could tell what he was thinking, though. “I was just motivating Kommodor Marphissa in the most effective manner,” she muttered in a voice so low only Drakon could hear. “That strong-horse thing you talked about.”

He was wise enough simply to nod in reply.

Iceni stood looking across the command center, trying to assess an alteration in the feeling of the place. Something had changed here. The fear, the anxiety which since the arrival of Boyens’s flotilla and the enigmas had ruled under the surface of the workers’ stoic façades, had given way to something else. Worry was still there, but also a strange sort of resolve that Iceni was not used to sensing in the workers around her.

Colonel Malin spoke softly. “The Alliance is here. They don’t want to look bad in front of the Alliance. Those in the ground forces and the mobile forces have often felt that way, but the average citizen, the average worker, has not. You have given them much more pride in themselves and in what they do, Madam President. With the Alliance watching, they will not falter.”

“Too bad I didn’t think of such motivational factors before,” Iceni replied dryly in the same low tones. Actually, I did. But the Syndicate system wouldn’t let me try such experiments. Better the universe crumble than anyone do anything that might compromise the subservience of the workers.

“We should send a message to Black Jack,” Drakon broke in. “You and I.”

“Both of us, this time?” Iceni asked.

“Yes.”

“All right. Let’s send this one from the private office.”

Drakon walked with her to the office, waiting until the door closed behind the two of them before speaking again. “You gave in on that pretty easily.”

“Did I? It made sense for me alone to speak to the enigmas because I’ve done that before, and you haven’t. But you have a right to demand to speak with Geary alongside me.” And even though I would never say so, for all of my independence I don’t mind at all sharing my current burdens a little with someone who has yet to openly betray me.

“I almost demanded to speak with Boyens the same way. But Boyens is used to you as top CEO in this star system,” Drakon said, “so I didn’t object to your speaking to him alone, either.”

Iceni faced Drakon, her eyes on his. “General Drakon, it has been clear to me from the first time we met that you think of yourself as military. You wore your mandatory CEO suit as if it were an instrument of humiliation and punishment.”

“I didn’t think it was that obvious,” Drakon said.

“No more so than the average pulsar blanketing the surrounding light-years with radiation. I understand that when dealing with another military leader, you wish to present yourself as coequal with me. It matters to you that Black Jack understands you have as large a role as I do.” She smiled crookedly. “That is what you’re thinking, isn’t it? Because if you want to present yourself as being in charge, we’re going to have to debate that.”

Drakon shrugged. “Coequal is fine. It has been from the first. You’re right. I want Black Jack to know more of who I am. If half of what we’ve heard about him is true, he’s someone I would like to meet in person.”

“You’ll have to settle for long-range communications,” Iceni said, gesturing to the desk. “We’ll sit side by side to emphasize—”

Malin burst into the room. Iceni could see Togo just beyond him, ready to act if Malin threatened her. But the colonel just spoke with unusual rapidity. “General, there’s been another arrival in this star system.”

Drakon frowned as Malin hesitated. “Who?” he demanded. “More Syndicate forces? More enigmas? More Alliance ships?”

“No, sir.”

“No, sir, what?”

Malin shook his head, looking bewildered. “The new arrivals are not Alliance or enigma or Syndicate. They do not match anything we’ve ever seen.” He moved to the desk’s display controls and brought up the images. “There are six of them. Whatever they are.”

Iceni stared, aware of Drakon watching her for some sign of recognition. “What’s the scale?” she demanded of Malin, who made the adjustment while Togo stood nearby, glowering at the colonel who was usurping Togo’s rightful role as Iceni’s assistant.

“You don’t recognize them, either?” Drakon asked.

“No.” Iceni bit her lip, then drew in a deep breath. “Featureless ovoids. Almost perfectly smooth. Are they following Black Jack’s fleet or pursuing it?”

“Why would Black Jack run from six ships that size?” Drakon wondered. “They’re about the size of our light cruisers.”

“We have no idea what armament those ships carry,” Malin pointed out. “Or who or what is inside them.”

Drakon didn’t reply. Iceni was aware out of the corner of her eyes that he was watching her. “You see something,” he finally said to her.

“Yes,” Iceni agreed. “The formation of the Alliance warships. It is oriented forward, facing the enigmas. Those new ships had to have come from Pele also, so the Alliance ships must have seen them before they jumped for here. But Black Jack’s fleet isn’t worried about what’s behind them. Are they allies?” Iceni wondered aloud. “Did Black Jack find someone else out there? Someone besides the enigmas?”

“He has led them here,” Togo said, his voice accusing. “Whatever they are, they know where Midway is now.”

“Let’s hope they are allies, then,” Iceni replied, wondering how she should spin this for public consumption. No one should be talking about those new ships to anyone outside of here. The workers in the command center should be watching, learning what they could, awaiting instructions. But she knew workers. They had doubtless already spread the word to friends and acquaintances across half the planet. And anyone else with access to information about that region of space, anyone simply looking in that direction with the right equipment, would have seen the six new ships as well. “They are allies,” she said confidently.

Drakon eyed her, then nodded. “Yes. Allies. Of course.” He understood as well as she did the need to keep this news from rattling the defenders of Midway.

Getting up from the desk, Iceni walked back into the command center. “Find out everything you can about those six new ships,” she ordered in a firm, self-assured voice. “Black Jack has brought allies to assist him and us against the enigmas. We need to know what those allies can do.”

She turned with measured assurance and strode back into the office, where Drakon, Malin, and Togo waited.

Drakon watched Iceni walking back into the office, her movements broadcasting a sort of serene confidence. President Iceni is even better at lying than I had realized.

“We’d better make that call to Black Jack,” Drakon said. “Colonel Malin, while the specialists outside see what they can learn by observing those six new ships, I want you to dive into every record we’ve got for any indication that ships like that have ever been sighted. Maybe the snake files we captured will have something that was kept secret from everyone else.”

“Yes, sir,” Malin said, saluting and departing in a single, swift motion.

Iceni took a seat behind the desk, indicating the chair to her right. For a second, Drakon pondered the idea of sitting on her left just to emphasize that Iceni didn’t tell him what to do, but his common sense very quickly quashed the notion. Save it for something important, so you don’t seem insecure and petty.

He sat down to Iceni’s right while her assistant Togo adjusted the field of view for the transmission. “What do you want to say?” Iceni asked.

What do I want to say? This is primarily a space engagement until someone tries to land troops somewhere, and space is Iceni’s playing field. Besides, this is Black Jack. I don’t want to sound stupid the first time I talk to him. “I’ll just introduce myself this time. You can handle the rest.”

“Really?” Iceni leaned close. “Are you really beginning to trust me, General Drakon?” she teased.

But he knew there was a world of meaning behind that apparently amused comment. And, with at least two groups of powerful enemies vying to kill him right now, Drakon suddenly decided to stop playing the games he had been forced into for many years. “Yes… Gwen.”

Iceni just looked at him in reply, skeptical, her own defenses still up, before finally smiling slightly. “Thank you… Artur.” Settling in her chair again, she nodded to Togo. “Start.”

“This is President Iceni of the independent star system of Midway.” She stopped speaking.

Drakon kept his own voice professionally sharp. “This is General Drakon, commanding officer of Midway’s ground forces.” There. He knows who I am. That’s good enough for now.

“We are happy to welcome your fleet back into our star system,” Iceni continued when she was certain that Drakon was done. “Especially considering current circumstances and previous agreements between us. We will do our utmost to defend our star system against invaders and ask only that you assist us in that task until the people of Midway are once again secure. Kommodor Marphissa, our senior warship commander, has been sent orders to follow your directions unless they conflict with her obligations to defend this star system.

“Be aware that the battleship located at our main military dockyards has functional propulsion but not working shields or weapons at this time, so it cannot be counted upon to assist in the defense of this star system.

“This is President Iceni, for the people, out.”

The transmission ended. Drakon relaxed. “By the time we get a reply, there’ll have been a lot of fighting.”

“Yes,” Iceni agreed. “Perhaps that will let us see what those six new ships can do.”

“We’ve committed our mobile forces, so Black Jack won’t have any reason to doubt our resolve. I wonder how Boyens will react to Black Jack and those new players with him?”

Before she could answer, Colonel Malin returned almost as swiftly as before. “General… Madam President, my research on those six new ships was interrupted by the results of my attempts to localize the tight-beam burst transmission sent earlier from this planet to the Syndicate flotilla. That transmission came from within two kilometers of this command center.”

Drakon looked steadily at Malin as he considered what that implied, what it might mean in terms of the woman he still sat beside. Had she been dealing under the table with him the entire time? “Or from within this command center?”

“I can’t rule that out, sir.”