Perilous Shield

Chapter Four

“General,” Malin said urgently. He had come up close to Drakon without being noticed while everyone gaped in despair at the display with its deadly message for everyone on this world. “There are still a few freighters in orbit. We can get you up to one of them.”

“I thought you wanted me to stay,” Drakon said, feeling intense bitterness at the end of his hopes for this star system.

“When it meant something, General. It doesn’t mean anything now. That bombardment cannot be stopped. You can save yourself, and as long as you live, you can still try to make something from the ruins. With the flotilla commanded by Kommodor Marphissa, you will have substantial influence someplace like Taroa.”

“And my troops, Colonel Malin? What about my soldiers?”

“We’ll lift as many as we can up to the freighters, General.”

As many as we can? A few hundred, maybe. Out of thousands. Colonel Rogero would probably stay with his unit until the end, watching the enigma bombardment come down through the atmosphere in streaks of fire that would end in mushroom clouds. Colonel Kai, too. Colonel Gaiene? Drakon imagined Gaiene greeting the bombardment with a sense of relief that his long grief was ending. Gaiene would probably raise a defiant toast to the projectile with his name on it, meeting his end with the combination of style and sorrow that had marked him for the past few years. “Bran, I don’t think I want to. Abandoning all of those soldiers, abandoning all of the citizens here who counted on us to defend them . . .”

“Sir, with all due respect,” Malin urged, “it’s not about you. You have a duty to carry on with this, with whatever we can salvage from the wreck of this world.”

Morgan had appeared on Drakon’s other side, her face twisted into exaggerated surprise. “Even he gets it right sometimes. General, let’s go. We’ve got a while before those rocks hit and turn this place into trash, but once the mob finds out those rocks are coming, they’ll riot and try to storm the landing fields.”

They were right. Malin and Morgan had logic and reason on their side. But Drakon looked over at Iceni, who was gazing with a stony expression at the display. Sensing his eyes on her, she looked back at him. Iceni said nothing, but Drakon felt certain of the acquiescence she had just wordlessly conveyed to him. Go ahead. Leave.

Instead, he walked toward her, leaving Malin and Morgan. “Madam President,” Drakon said formally, “you need to get to a shuttle. I’ll order my soldiers to form perimeters around the landing fields. They should be able to hold back the crowds until the shuttles can load and lift.”

She looked into his eyes. “And we would leave those soldiers? They would stand firm as we head for safety under their protection?”

“Soldiers do that, Madam President. Sometimes they have to. You’ll be able to get clear.”

“I will be able to get clear? What of you, General?”

Before he could answer, the command center supervisor called out. “We have a message coming in from the Alliance forces. It is addressed to President Iceni and General Drakon.”

“Give us a private comm window here,” Iceni directed.

Moments later, the virtual window appeared before them, invisible to everyone else. Drakon had seen images of Black Jack Geary before. The famous hero of the Alliance did not look like a hero. He looked like a man doing his job, a man who didn’t think of himself as heroic. Drakon had liked that. At the moment, Black Jack didn’t look happy about annihilating most of the enigma armada. Instead, he spoke in somber tones. “This is Admiral Geary. We have done our best to eliminate the enigma force, but some ships have gotten past us, and some of those have launched a bombardment aimed at your inhabited planet. We will continue our pursuit of the enigma ships but cannot stop the incoming bombardment. I urge you to take any possible measures to ensure the safety of your people. To the honor of our ancestors, Geary, out.”

Morgan’s scornful voice broke the silence following the message. “Was there anything in there that we didn’t already know? General, let’s go.”

“He did everything he could,” Iceni replied with a fiery glance at Morgan.

“Yes,” Drakon agreed. “I can’t fault Black Jack.” But otherwise Morgan was right. It was past time to go. But he didn’t move, feeling as if his feet were fastened to the floor, and neither did Iceni. In his mind’s eye, Drakon saw the ranks of his soldiers, the men and women who had followed him for years in battles across a score of worlds, who had lost comrades on each of those worlds while carrying out his commands. He saw them standing firm to hold back panicked crowds while a shuttle carrying Drakon himself lifted to safety, leaving them to certain death. Beyond them he saw the white beaches of this world and the gentle slopes of its islands, he remembered the breezes off the wide waters and the setting of a sun whose particular size and tint had come to seem very familiar in a few years. To leave was one thing. To leave those soldiers and this world knowing that all would soon cease to exist was another and far harder thing.

Even after all the years climbing the ranks of the Syndicate hierarchy, even after all that had required, there were still some things that General Artur Drakon found impossible to do.

“General,” Malin began again, though something in his tone conveyed his understanding that further pleas would be useless.

Drakon shook his head. “Accompany the President when she goes off planet, Colonel Malin. She’ll need your advice and assistance.”

Malin looked down, then back up at him. “I would rather stay, General.”

“That’s an order, Bran.”

“I do not believe any punishment you threaten for disobeying orders would have much meaning under the circumstances,” Malin pointed out. “We might be able to ride it out in the headquarters complex.”

“Not too damned likely,” Drakon grumbled. “All right, dammit. But get an escort set up to get President Iceni to the lift field. Make it strong. There’s going to be mass panic soon.”

Morgan was standing nearby, her posture strangely uncertain. Uncharacteristically, she didn’t seem able to decide what to do, just watching Drakon with a fixed stare.

“Go ahead, Colonel Morgan,” Drakon said. He looked over at Iceni, who herself was still standing, gazing across the command center, fists clenched at her sides. “You are to command the President’s escort and ensure she gets on a shuttle, help her commandeer a freighter in orbit, then remain with her and guard her wherever she goes. Get her out of here, get her to safety, whether she wants to go or not, and you get out safe, too.”

“No.” Morgan shook her head like someone coming out of a daze. “You—”

“M-Madam President?” the supervisor called out. “Th-there’s something happening.”

“What is happening?” Iceni snapped, instantly focused on the situation again.

“Those six ships, Madam President. They’re… they’re doing something.”

“What are they doing?” Iceni repeated in an even more forceful tone. But as she looked at the display, the anger was replaced by incomprehension. “What are they doing?” she repeated, baffled.

Almost forgotten until now, the six mystery ships had been driving steadily inward toward the star. Now they were diving back toward the plane of the star system, accelerating at a very impressive rate, their vectors aimed at—

“It’s the bombardment,” the supervisor said in a disbelieving voice. “They’re aiming to intercept the bombardment.”

“Why?” Iceni asked the question of the entire command center. “What’s the point? What can they do?”

The supervisor, forced by his position to be the one to answer, faltered out a reply. “I… I don’t know, Madam President.”

Iceni spun to face Drakon. “Mobile forces cannot stop a bombardment. It’s too hard a problem for the fire control systems. What are those ships doing?”

Colonel Malin answered. “Those aren’t our ships. They’re not Alliance ships. They’re not human ships. Maybe they can do something ours can’t.”

Every eye stayed on the display as the six ships swooped down on the bombardment projectiles, sliding into position directly behind them in a maneuver that brought a gasp of admiration from Iceni and several others in the command center. The mystery ships began firing, somehow scoring hits, blows that did not destroy the solid metal bombardment projectiles but did divert their paths, sending them on courses that would never reach this planet.

Drakon watched, impressed even though he didn’t understand the magnitude of the achievement, as the bombardment was diverted projectile by projectile. But he did note that the rate of success kept dropping as the bombardment pulled away from the six ships.

Finally, only one projectile remained on course for this world. Shots from the six ships blasted toward it again and again, with no results. Drakon began trying to calculate how much damage that one object would do when it struck this planet. “Any guesses?” he asked Malin and Morgan, both of whom shook their heads.

“It depends too much on where it hits,” Malin explained.

The firing stopped. Drakon heard a vast sigh fill the command center as everyone at once seemed to let out disappointed breaths. To come so close to total success and not achieve it… But he couldn’t complain, not when a planet-killing bombardment had been reduced to one rock that might be devastating but not a total disaster. “If you two have decided to start following orders again, calculate the trajectory on that rock and try to get an estimate of where it will hit,” he ordered Morgan and Malin. “We need to—”

The six ships had fired again, a single volley.

Instead of reporting success, the supervisor sobbed with relief.

Iceni looked ready to reprimand him, then smiled and took a long, slow breath herself. “I don’t know where they came from, I don’t know what they are, but we are amazingly lucky that they were here.”

“Perhaps it wasn’t luck,” Malin said. He had a calculating expression on his face as he eyed the depictions of the six strange ships.

Drakon glanced at Morgan for her reaction and saw the exact same expression on her face. “What do you think?”

Morgan grinned, all of her usual cockiness back. “We need what they’ve got.”

“Don’t start planning a boarding operation.”

“And victory celebrations may be a bit premature,” Malin added. “A second group of enigmas has launched a bombardment.”

Drakon muttered a curse, swiveling to look at the display. Sure enough, the group headed for the gas giant had unleashed projectiles aimed at the mobile forces facility and the battleship still present there. “We need that thing to move.”

“We couldn’t send an order in time for it to be received,” Iceni corrected him. “Whatever has happened, has already happened. Kapitan-Leytenant Kontos has shown some remarkable abilities in the past. I am sure he will realize the need to move that battleship before the bombardment reaches it. Kommodor Marphissa could not reach those enigma ships in time to stop their launch, but she will prevent them from doing more damage.”

But, within moments, Iceni’s surface serenity cracked. “What is he doing?”

Drakon squinted at the display, trying to understand what was happening. “The battleship has lit off its main propulsion.”

“But it is still fastened to the mobile forces facility! It will rip the dock free and possibly damage the battleship as well to no purpose!” Iceni’s opinion of Kapitan-Leytenant Kontos appeared to have undergone a radical change.

But as minutes went past, Iceni’s expression shifted again, to incomprehension. “According to the data feed from the battleship, he’s got his main propulsion going at almost full, but he’s still tied to the facility. How is that possible?”

“The entire facility is moving,” the command center supervisor reported helpfully.

“I can see that!” Iceni seethed. “Why isn’t it coming apart under the strain? What the hell is Kontos doing?”

As if in answer to her, a transmission came in showing Kapitan-Leytenant Kontos on the bridge of the battleship Midway. As usual, the youthful Kontos showed an unruffled attitude despite the dire situation. “To President Iceni. When the alien force appeared in this star system, it occurred to me that there might be a need to protect this facility from the usual form of attack. Therefore, I ordered the shipyard workers to immediately begin reinforcing the battleship’s ties to the facility, using all available means. They have worked steadily, and are still working to bolster those areas as I seek to use Midway’s propulsion to pull the facility out of the way of the incoming bombardment. I believe we have a reasonable chance of success. I have informed Kommodor Marphissa of my actions as well. If we are successful in avoiding the bombardment, I will report on the outcome. For the people, Kontos, out.”

“He’s crazy,” somebody whispered clearly enough to be heard in the hushed command center.

“It might work,” the supervisor suggested.

Iceni looked as if she might explode. “He’s risking the battleship… my battleship… on a harebrained scheme that can’t possibly—”

“Madam President?” a specialist asked with equal parts hesitancy and daring. “Projections are that the mobile forces facility will just clear the bombardment area.”

“What? Are you certain?”

“From the data feeds we are getting, the known mass of the facility, and the performance data on the battleship’s main propulsion, yes, Madam President.”

Iceni stared at the display, wordless now, as the mobile forces facility and the battleship towing it moved with agonizing slowness away from the danger zone. The enigma bombardment arrived, zipping very close past the edge of the mobile forces facility before skipping across the gas giant’s atmosphere and zooming off into empty space.

“Colonel Rogero told me Kontos was good,” Drakon remarked.

“Yes,” Iceni agreed, her voice not quite steady yet. “He has a great future. If I don’t kill him first.”

“There’s one group left,” Morgan interceded, as they watched Kommodor Marphissa’s flotilla moving to intercept the enigmas who had attacked the mobile forces facility. “The one heading for the gate.”

Drakon eyed them sourly. “The mysterious six ships saved us from the first group, Kapitan-Leytenant Kontos saved us from the second with some help from Kommodor Marphissa when she catches those enigmas, and now we have to depend on CEO Boyens to save us from the third.”

“Well, we’ve already seen at least one miracle today,” Iceni replied. “Maybe a second or third isn’t too much to hope for.”

As it turned out, the last group of enigma warships broke off their attack and headed for the jump point for Pele at the best speed they could, which was considerable. “They’ve had enough,” Drakon observed. He had seen that often enough with human combatants. There always came a point when the will to fight faltered and failed. The better the fighters, the longer it took to reach that point, but sooner or later almost any force would break if subjected to enough damage. Whatever else was true of the enigmas, they were like humanity in that respect as well. There was some comfort in knowing that.

Knowing things. He looked at Black Jack’s fleet, which had gone into enigma-controlled space and come back again, accompanied by the mysterious six ships as well as the massive ship being towed by Alliance battleships. “How much do you think he’ll tell us of what he’s learned?”

Iceni shook her head. “I can’t guess. He may demand a price for what he has learned.”

“What price? We don’t have a lot.”

“I don’t know.” But Iceni seemed worried, and Morgan bent a smirk her way as if Morgan knew the answer.

“We probably ought to say something to him,” Drakon commented.

“Yes. Let’s do it formally.” Iceni led him back to the private office, where he once again sat beside her. “What do you wish to say?”

What did he want to say? Drakon glanced unobtrusively at Malin, who just as subtly communicated a suggestion to defer to Iceni. All right. Better to be quiet than to sound stupid. “I’ll leave this one to you,” he told Iceni. “We do need to tell Black Jack that we’re not on good terms with Boyens and his flotilla.”

“Of course. If we can get Black Jack to commit to us, CEO Boyens won’t have a chance. Anything else?”

“No. I just want to make sure Black Jack sees us together so he knows we’re jointly deciding on whatever is said.”

Iceni inclined her head toward Drakon, then faced the pickup and gestured for the transmission to start. “We are in your debt again, Admiral Geary. I don’t know the nature of your allies, but we owe them an immense debt as well.

“My warships will engage the enigmas heading for my battleship. I cannot control the actions of the flotilla near the hypernet gate. Do not trust that the flotilla there will act in our interest, Admiral. CEO Boyens, their commander, is known to you. If you make your orders clear to him, he may hesitate to act contrary to them. It is essential that Boyens understands that he is not in control of this star system and does not dictate what will happen here. For the people, Iceni, out.”

She relaxed, then noticed Drakon looking at her. “Did I say something inappropriate?”

He motioned to Malin, indicating he should leave, then waited until the door sealed again before answering Iceni. “My battleship? My warships?”

“I said my? I thought I said our.”

“No.” A small thing, but also a clear unilateral claim on the most powerful military assets in this star system. Drakon realized that he was galled by recent events, that he had been forced to sit by with his soldiers and watch others defend and save Midway Star System. I know ground forces couldn’t have done anything against those threats. But it still annoys the hell out of me that her warships, and Black Jack’s, did all the heavy lifting.

Iceni tapped one finger on the table several times, watching it as if the gesture required concentration. “If that’s a concern, then I will modify the description of the forces when next I speak of them.” She looked over at him again, showing Drakon a poker face that left him wondering what Iceni was really feeling.

“Fine. As long as it is clear I have an equal level of control here.”

“That has never been in question.” Iceni locked her eyes on his. “General Drakon, we cannot afford to mistake who our allies are.”

“Gwen… I regret our earlier misunderstanding.”

“You mean when your officer threatened me?”

Iceni obviously wasn’t going to make this easy. “It won’t happen again. I’m going to make certain of that.”

She looked carefully at the security lights glowing above the doorway, ensuring that no one could overhear their conversation. “Artur, the only way to be certain that officer does not act that way again is to get rid of her. You know that as well as I do.”

“If you knew her history—” Drakon began stubbornly.

“I do know her history.”

That shouldn’t have been a surprise despite the highly classified nature of Morgan’s early record. Iceni had done her homework. “Morgan had some bad breaks. If she couldn’t do her job, that wouldn’t serve as an excuse. But the fact is that she does get the job done. She found that snake agent in the command center way before anyone else.”

Iceni leaned back, frowning at him. “It could have been a setup. The snakes still in hiding in this star system would have known we were closing in on that agent. They could have leaked that information to Morgan.”

“Why?”

“To deflect suspicion from her.”

Drakon had to pause, momentarily at a loss for words. “Gwen, seriously, if you knew more about Morgan, you’d know that’s impossible. She really, truly, hates the snakes. She also hates the Syndicate. They messed her up, and while she won’t admit that, Morgan wants revenge.”

Iceni pursed her lips, thinking. “Confirm my data. She was messed up as you put it by mental conditioning for a suicide mission into enigma space when she was barely eighteen.”

“Right. She spent about twenty years frozen in survival sleep, inside a hollowed-out asteroid headed for an enigma-occupied world. She, and the others in the mission, were supposed to be awakened just before atmospheric entry, reach the surface, and send back whatever information they could before the enigmas killed them. But the mission got canceled when the leading asteroids were destroyed by the enigmas, and Morgan and one other soldier were recovered to try to find out how their presence had been compromised to the enigmas.”

“That matches,” Iceni said. Whatever she was thinking was once again hidden behind her eyes. “Chronologically, she’s twice her apparent age.”

“Yeah. Biologically, she’s about the same age as Malin. Not that either of them finds that a basis for getting along.”

Iceni shook her head. “I can’t tell you how to run your own staff. But I can tell you that she is, in my opinion, dangerous.”

“You think she’s a threat to me?” Drakon asked.

“Yes,” Iceni replied, surprising him. “Don’t get your back up until you hear me out. I do not believe that Colonel Morgan would intentionally do you harm. She has an intense loyalty toward you. What you ought to be worried about is where that loyalty could lead her, what actions she might take in the belief that they are in your best interests.”

My best interests? Where have I heard that before? Drakon wondered.

Taroa. Morgan said exactly that. “General Drakon, everything I do is in your best interests.” Even at the time he had wondered what that might mean.

But that it might constitute a threat to him? Morgan had her quirks, but she never would have gotten that medical waiver if she wasn’t stable enough to meet Syndicate standards. Granted that Syndicate standards could be elastic, but they left no room for loose cannons who didn’t have an important patron supporting them. And Morgan had not had any such patron.

Nonetheless, Drakon could understand Iceni’s grounds for concern. “All right. I will ensure that Morgan knows that if anything happens to you, or to anyone else without my very clear and specific orders, all of her past service to me won’t save her from the consequences.”

Her eyes searched his for a long moment before Iceni replied. “This is a dilemma. I like you because you don’t cast aside people who become inconvenient. But that character trait also makes life more difficult for me. Very well. Warn her. I’ll be watching her.”

“So will I,” Drakon said. He gave her a skeptical look. “You like me?”

Iceni sighed and spread her hands. “A little. Is that so unusual?”

“As a matter of fact, yes.” He smiled deprecatingly. “I’m not easy.”

“And I’m not cheap,” Iceni said, a momentary smile appearing, then vanishing again. “There’s work I should be doing.”

“Me, too.” Don’t trust, don’t get too close, don’t mix your job and personal issues, never, ever, make the mistake of letting down your guard because of personal feelings. The old warnings, which had saved him more than once while climbing the ranks of the Syndicate hierarchy, echoed in Drakon’s head as they left the office.

But, dammit, I like her, too. A little.

“I reviewed the interrogation of the snake agent done by President Iceni’s personnel,” Colonel Malin reported. “I conducted my own as well. I agree with the results given to you. This particular snake agent knows nothing of use to us. Her disposal is awaiting your approval.”

Drakon sat back in his chair, in his office, grateful to be back in his own headquarters complex, surrounded by people whose loyalty to him was beyond question. He ran Malin’s last words through his mind again while Malin waited patiently, standing in the respectful and almost-at-attention posture that seemed the most casual attitude that he ever took toward Drakon.

“Disposal.” That was one of the official and accepted Syndicate terms for executing someone. Dispose of the prisoners. How many times have I heard that? Drakon wondered.

He hated the word. He had hated it for a very long time.

But, exact wording aside, the woman’s fate didn’t have any room for debate. She had worked for the snakes. She had claimed, and the interrogation had borne out, that she had been blackmailed into cooperation by threats to her family, but that made no difference. She could expect no mercy even from her former coworkers. Letting her go was simply impossible.

And yet Drakon felt a strange reluctance to order her “disposal.” “What about President Iceni? Has she given orders about the prisoner?”

“Her office approved disposal, General.”

“President Iceni approved disposal, or her office approved disposal?” Drakon demanded.

Malin paused. “Sir, I will have to check on whether the President personally approved the decision.”

Did something this routine fall under his agreement with Iceni? Probably. She should have coordinated with him before approving killing the agent. Especially since there was no need to rush the execution. But why delay it? It would be different if the snake agent was still of some use…

Drakon felt himself smiling. “Colonel Malin, suppose we kept her alive?”

“Alive?” For once in his life, Malin seemed to be baffled.

“Suppose you were the covert snakes still hidden on this planet, in this star system, and you knew we had captured that woman, then you learned that we hadn’t executed her. What would you think?”

Malin puzzled over the question very briefly, then his expression cleared. “I would think that she was still of some use to us.”

“Right. That she’s still valuable to us. So what would you do?”

“Try to get to her. Eliminate her myself.” Malin smiled approvingly at Drakon. “You want to keep her as bait to force some of the other snake agents in this star system to reveal themselves.”

“That’s the idea.” Wasn’t it? Maybe that was the only reason he had felt reluctant to dispose of the woman.

But he was sick to death of death. Gwen Iceni had been talking to him about something before the enigmas and Boyens had shown up, something about new ways of doing business that didn’t involve casual executions and unchecked power for those in authority. “Bran, do you have anything on systems of government that contain limitations on power for those in charge?”

Malin nodded quickly. “Yes, sir. I can provide you some. Texts on political science and history.”

“If politics is a science, it’s a perverted one,” Drakon grumbled. “I know why a lot of people support the kind of power CEOs can wield in the Syndicate system. They hope to become CEOs themselves and have that kind of clout.”

“Don’t underestimate the fear such a system generates,” Malin cautioned. “Many fear to speak out when even innocuous words can be used to justify any penalty. And, if we are honest, many actually believe such power in the hands of those at the top is necessary to maintain order and security.”

“Yet they hate the snakes,” Drakon said derisively. “That’s what the Syndicate system led to and justifies, an Internal Security Service that we feared more than we did the Alliance.”

“Yes, sir. That’s exactly what it leads to. I’ll get you those texts, General.”

Despite the absurdity of Iceni’s suspicions about Morgan, they had kept nagging at him, and the mention of snakes had brought them to the forefront. “Colonel Malin, how certain are we of the information we have regarding Colonel Morgan’s past? Is there anything important that I haven’t seen?”

For a bare instant a trace of powerful emotion flashed in Malin’s eyes, but the instant passed, and Drakon couldn’t be sure what he had seen. Pain? That didn’t make sense. Anger? Maybe. Frustration. Of course. Malin had probably spent long hours searching for any tiny bit of information that would condemn Morgan, and his inability to find such incriminating evidence must have caused him considerable disappointment.

Malin’s voice came out as controlled as it usually did. “No, sir. What has she done now?”

“Nothing since her little show in the command center.” Drakon rubbed his eyes, then looked back at Malin. “Is our information accurate? Is there any chance what we know of Morgan might be wrong?”

“No, sir. I am absolutely certain of the accuracy of what you know of Colonel Morgan.”

“I know how you feel about her, so I’m going to ask this directly. Do you think there is any possibility at all that Morgan is working for the snakes?”

This time it was easy to see the exact emotion in Malin. Surprise. “No, sir. I can’t imagine— She does hate them, sir.”

“More than she hates you?”

Malin’s smile was wan. “I doubt it, General. I am keeping an eye on Colonel Morgan.”

And she’s keeping an eye on you. We’re all keeping an eye on each other. How the hell do we get anything else done? “Thank you, Bran. Make sure President Iceni’s people know that the snake agent is to be kept alive. I want you to get custody of that agent and put her in a maximum-security setting with a few apparent holes in the security.”

This time Malin smiled with understanding. “And complete surveillance of the holes so we can see who tries to use them. Yes, sir. I’ll get it done right away.”

President Iceni put on her best smile. That was a bit easier to do now that she had left the command center and returned to her own governing complex. Being on familiar ground, at her own desk, was a welcome thing after the tense days spent waiting for the enigmas to destroy them all. “Admiral Geary, I want to express my personal thanks for your actions in defending all of human-occupied space and the Midway Star System from renewed attack by the enigma race.”

Now for the delicate part. “Midway continues to recognize its obligations under the treaties made with the Syndicate government on Prime,” Iceni continued. “However, since we are now an independent star system, there will be a need to renegotiate agreements. I assure you that we seek agreements that will mutually benefit us and the Alliance, and do not anticipate any problems reaching such agreements.” There. Keep it short and a little vague. Don’t say anything that sounds like groveling or threatening. CEO Boyens still has a flotilla hanging near the hypernet gate, and the last thing I need is to make Black Jack upset. But I can’t have him taking me for granted, either. “For the people, Iceni, out.”

Iceni rubbed the back of her neck, trying to relax tense muscles. “Make sure a copy of that goes to General Drakon so he knows I’m not communicating with Black Jack behind his back,” she instructed Togo. “Notify me the moment a reply comes in.”

“Yes, Madam President.”

“Nothing has come in from CEO Boyens?”

“No, Madam President. One of the light cruisers is on its way to be able to intercept tight-beam transmissions between the Syndicate flotilla and the Alliance flagship, but will not be in position for another hour.”

She glowered at the display showing the light cruiser apparently creeping toward an orbit between the forces of Black Jack and Boyens. The display indicated the warship was actually moving at point two light speed, impressive by even space-travel standards. I could berate Kommodor Marphissa about how long it is taking, but I know full well that her forces were tied up in chasing the enigmas by my orders. Not that such facts would have held back some of the CEOs I have had the misfortune to work for. But I did learn from such screamers that far from motivating people, such tactics usually cause them to slow down either out of resentment or fear. I hope Marphissa appreciates my restraint.

“The ambassador from Taroa is waiting to see you,” Togo said.

“Send him in.”

Taroa, like other star systems that had revolted against the Syndicate, had suffered some serious attrition of older, more experienced officials. Some of those officials were dead, some had managed to flee, and others were in prison. The ambassador was one of the new officials, a former academic who had been rapidly boosted into high rank because of personal connections with the new government.

At least he knew that official protocol required visits like this to be in person.

Iceni smiled politely and gestured the ambassador to a seat, watching as he warily sat down and gazed back at her with the evident nervousness a more experienced official would have concealed. Iceni had been a CEO before retitling herself President; Syndicate citizens learned not to look CEOs in the eye, and a lifetime of habits died hard even for newly minted ambassadors. “You have received our offer?” Iceni asked.

The ambassador nodded. “Yes, Madam President. It appears to be… extremely generous.”

“And you’re wondering what the catch is?”

Her candor surprised him, setting the new ambassador off-balance, which had been what she intended.

“If you wish me to be blunt—” the Taroan ambassador began.

“Please. It saves time.”

He smiled hesitantly. “You are offering us partial ownership of the main orbiting facility once more, as well as the battleship under construction there, and are asking only for certain mutual-defense agreements in exchange.”

Iceni smiled back, broadcasting confidence and artificial candor. “You undervalue the importance to us of those agreements. Battleships we can get. We’ve already acquired two. But dependable allies in a region of space where threats may come from anywhere at any time is another and far harder thing to find. Midway can’t stand alone, even with all of the advantages we get from our jump points and the hypernet gate. Taroa can’t stand alone, either. We were happy to help Taroa throw off the yoke of the Syndicate.” It never hurt to toss in an explicit reminder of what Midway had done for the Free Taroans. “Together, with the resources of two star systems, we can much better defend ourselves, and even launch expeditions if necessary to help other star systems.”

The ambassador nodded eagerly, giving away how much he wanted this deal to go through. “Yes. I’m certain that my government will understand that. No one wants to be reconquered by the Syndicate. Perhaps Kane could use help?”

The latest reports from Kane spoke of ongoing chaos, with dozens of small groups competing for control after the total collapse of Syndicate authority and subsequent failure of several weak successor governments. “Kane would be a dangerous place to intervene,” Iceni said. “If Taroa wants that, we can talk about it. But my people believe that Kane is very likely to fracture into several competing governments within the star system. I am inclined to let that process shake out a little more before we commit our own, limited resources there.”

“I understand, Madam President. Forgive me, but I need to be certain. Your offer is made on behalf of both you and General Drakon?”

“That’s correct. You need to emphasize to your government that we cannot wait forever for an answer. If we get close enough to finishing that battleship in Taroa on our own, we won’t require Taroa’s assistance with that anymore.”

“Yes, Madam President. I will emphasize the need for quick action.”

“Thank you,” Iceni said, her tone making clear that the meeting was over. The ambassador left, beaming with happiness at the offered agreement, which he would surely claim credit for negotiating.

Iceni gestured to Togo. “Get me an updated report on our agents of influence in Taroa. I want to ensure we have enough agents in the right positions to get that agreement approved without delay, and without too many questions about how much authority Midway will have under that agreement over military forces belonging to Taroa. Coordinate with Drakon’s staff to ensure the agents reporting to his people have the same instructions. I want those instructions sent to Taroa on the same ship that carries the offer.”

“Yes, Madam President. In order to ensure the rapid approval of the agreement by the Taroan government, it may be necessary to expend more in bribes than previously budgeted.”

Iceni’s smile this time was wry. “Perhaps not. I’m finding that bribing elected officials can be significantly cheaper than bribing appointed bureaucrats. The bureaucrats have a much clearer understanding of their value. But extra payments are authorized if needed. We can’t afford to depend on Black Jack for defense of this star system.” Colonel Malin deserved an under-the-table bonus for suggesting the agreement in the first place, but he would probably refuse it. Whatever Malin’s motivations were, they didn’t include a desire for wealth.

The reply from Black Jack to her message came six hours later, about as fast as it could have arrived given that the Alliance fleet, which had reassembled into a single massive formation, now orbited nearly three light-hours from the planet on which Iceni was located. Black Jack didn’t look particularly triumphant. In fact, he looked about as overworked as Iceni felt. I don’t envy him being the most powerful person in human-occupied space. What do you do with that kind of power if you have a brain and a conscience? Tired or not, his uniform looked immaculate. He must have a very good assistant making certain he looks his best—

Assistant? Or someone a bit closer than that? There have been rumors…

“This is Admiral Geary,” Black Jack said. “I will leave negotiations on such matters to the two emissaries of the Alliance government who we have with us. They will be contacting you soon for that purpose. Of immediate concern, my auxiliaries are very low on raw materials. I would like your agreement for them to mine some of the asteroids in this star system for such materials so that we can begin to repair the battle damage suffered here.

“Please pass on to Kommodor Marphissa my personal appreciation for the efforts of her and her ships in working with us for the defense of this star system. They fought well. To the honor of our ancestors, Geary, out.”

Iceni spent a moment considering her reply.

“He needs the raw materials badly,” Togo said. Having arrived a few minutes earlier to deliver to Iceni an intercepted and decoded copy of the Taroan ambassador’s highly secret message to his government about the defense agreement, Togo had been standing silently nearby. Now he spoke diffidently. “Black Jack would not have asked otherwise. Not in a Syndicate star system.”

“We are no longer a Syndicate star system,” Iceni replied.

“In their minds, we are, Madam President.” It was impossible to tell from Togo’s expression, or his voice, what he thought of that. “We have also had time to analyze the damage apparent on the Alliance warships. They have seen serious combat and have plainly needed extensive repair. He needs these materials.”

“What are you suggesting?”

“A business transaction to our benefit, Madam President. We can bargain for profits that will enhance your stature and the security of your position.”

Iceni considered that, too. The idea is tempting. I have leverage to demand concessions and other things.

Tempting.

Like bait for a trap?

Does Black Jack really need those raw materials that badly? He’s going home, after all, and he has an immense amount of firepower. Even if those repair ships of his are riding empty, they could snag an asteroid in any star system they pass through without asking permission or offering payment.

He could do that here. He could take what he wants. He could simply say “you owe me this,” and we could not object.

Instead, Black Jack, with overwhelming force at his back, asks.

Oh, you cunning master of misdirection, you. You want me to take the bait. To see what I do when given the chance to weasel and bargain and act like the very model of a Syndicate CEO. That’s how he defeated us time and again, I suspect. Let us think we had the upper hand, then…

“We cannot afford to underestimate Black Jack,” Iceni said.

“Madam President?”

“He wants us to bargain with him when we think he is in a position of weakness. He wants to see if we go for his throat at the first opportunity. We look at him and think he is just a simple sailor, making a straightforward request. Could someone like that have destroyed the mobile forces of the Syndicate Worlds? And then he distracts me with praise for Kommodor Marphissa, a very clever bit of manipulation designed to make him appear open and aboveboard. Black Jack is actually setting out a snare so carefully concealed that it could easily have tripped us up.”

Surprise appeared on Togo’s face for a moment. “Forgive me. I did not appreciate how devious Black Jack can be.”

“But now we know. I’ll give him what he wants. Graciously. Without bargaining.” Iceni smiled grimly. “He’ll know that he’s dealing with someone smart enough to avoid his traps.”

“Yes, Madam President.” Togo raised a hand slightly. “We should ensure that whatever the Alliance does is coordinated with the space-resource-extraction authorities. That will enable us to monitor exactly what is done under the pretext of following standard procedures.”

“Excellent idea. You tell the extraction authorities that they’ll be hearing from the Alliance fleet soon and that they are to oblige the Alliance requests without hesitation.” She sent a cheerful reply to Black Jack, granting him permission to mine, then forwarded the last part of his message to Marphissa, along with her congratulations.

“The mining authorities have been notified, Madam President,” Togo reported.

“Good.” She gave him a questioning look. Her earlier suspicions of Togo had faded considerably as he had continued to show nothing but appropriate deference to her and gratifying obedience to her orders. I was rattled after the arrival of the enigmas, after everything that was happening. Easy enough to see dangers everywhere under such circumstances. “Black Jack is surely trying to collect information about what we are doing here and in nearby star systems. His ships must be pulling in everything they can from transmissions and news reports and other sources. We need to ensure that the picture Black Jack builds is one that favors us.”

Togo held very still, his eyes focused on some distant mental objective. “We need a method of sending him a narrative, telling him what he could otherwise learn but ensuring it does so in a way that we prefer,” he observed.

“If we just sent him such a package it would be too obvious. We need at least a veneer of its being impartial.”

“That would require a means of contacting the Alliance fleet officially without doing so… officially.”

“And it’s not like we have any friends on those warships of Black Jack’s,” Iceni grumbled.

Friends? On Black Jack’s ships?

Togo started to say something more. She silenced him with a gesture, trying to catch the elusive thought. Ah. That’s it. A matter involving a certain subordinate of Drakon’s and a certain subordinate of Black Jack’s. “Get General Drakon for me. I need to speak to him as soon as possible.”

I don’t like this, Drakon thought. “Are you all right with what I’m asking you to do?” he asked Colonel Rogero. Actually, Iceni asked me to ask Rogero, but it was my decision to make that request, and I refuse to hide behind anyone else when doing it.

Rogero nodded, outwardly impassive. “I appreciate the opportunity to send a… personal message, General.”

“Donal, you’ve been open with me about what she means to you even now. I know this isn’t going to be easy for you, especially knowing that we’re using this to send our own spin on recent events to Black Jack.”

“I would rather be used by you and President Iceni than by the snakes, sir,” Rogero replied with a very slight smile. “I am all right with it, General. It will let me say… good-bye. We never had that opportunity.”

Drakon looked away, more uncomfortable than ever. “We’ll send the message openly since we no longer have to worry about the snakes asking questions. Record what you want. I won’t review that part. But you’ll have to add this text worked up by the President’s people. There’s nothing objectionable in there, just an update on things that makes us all look good. The elections and all, and what we did at Taroa. Then I’ll send it, personally, to Black Jack. There’s no guarantee that Captain . . .”

“Bradamont.”

It was amazing how much emotion could be invested in a single name, even when Rogero was clearly trying to suppress such feelings.

“That she’ll get it,” Drakon finished. “But I will ask Black Jack to forward it to her.”

“Yes, sir. May I have a few minutes alone to do this?”

“Take the time you need. And, thank you, Donal. I wish things could work out differently.”

“We both know that is impossible, sir. She is an Alliance fleet officer, and I was, until recently, a Syndicate ground forces officer. Fate brought us together, but neither of us ever believed anything but eventual separation would be the result.”

Less than half an hour after that, Drakon sat behind his desk and tapped the command to send a message to the Alliance flagship. “I am asking a personal favor, Admiral Geary. I understand that you have no reason to grant that to a former enemy. However, the favor is not for me, but for one of my subordinates. Colonel Rogero is one of my most highly trusted and highly regarded officers. He has asked me to see if the attached message can be delivered to one of your subordinate officers. In light of his loyal service to me and as one professional to another, I am requesting that you forward the message to its intended recipient. In case any question arises, President Iceni is aware of this communication and the contents of the attached message and has no objections to either. I will answer any questions you have regarding this matter if you communicate them to me.”

There. That was all he needed to say. But this was his first, and might be the only, individual message to Black Jack. Drakon imagined he could see the legendary Alliance admiral sitting across from him. Are you as real a person as you seem? I hope so. This is what I’d say if you are really that man, as one combat commander to another. “I’m glad we never met in battle during the war, Admiral. I’m not at all sure I would have survived that experience, though I would have given you the fight of your life before it was over. For the people, Drakon, out.”

He was still sitting at the desk a few minutes later when Colonel Malin called. Even if Drakon hadn’t been keyed up by recent events, he would have been alerted by Malin’s grim expression. “What happened?”

“The snake agent is dead, General.”