Perilous Shield

Chapter Five

Drakon took a moment to calm himself before speaking. “How?”

“I took a full squad to the security cell to take custody of her, General,” Malin said. “When we arrived at her cell, we found her dead. Medical readings from the cell had been spoofed to make it appear she was alive and well. An initial inspection suggests quick-acting poison as the cause.”

“How long had she been dead?”

“Less than an hour. We’ll get an exact time when the autopsy is complete.”

The implications of that were pretty clear. “Someone didn’t want us getting our hands on her. Who knew you were coming?”

“Senior members of President Iceni’s staff,” Malin said. “We couldn’t just show up and take the prisoner without her knowledge.”

“No.” Iceni would raise hell if Drakon’s people tried to step on her toes that way. “I suppose the security monitoring systems at the agent’s cell show nothing?”

“Nothing,” Malin confirmed. “I’m having them analyzed, but I’m sure we’ll find that those systems were also hacked, and during the period when the agent was murdered, there will be false observations that reveal nothing. Sir, I take full responsibility for—”

“Don’t,” Drakon interrupted. “I should have told you to get that agent right away and personally called Iceni to approve the transfer. I let the snakes still hidden here get one step ahead of me. We need to start getting ahead of them.”

“General, there are many things vying for your attention. The snakes only have to focus on sabotaging you and the President. You and President Iceni have to focus on dozens of issues.” Malin nodded, his mouth set in determined lines. “I will work on this. And… I will notify Colonel Morgan if that is your wish. She needs to know about this since she is looking for hidden snakes.”

Drakon raised an eyebrow at him. “She does need to know what happened, but if you tell her, she’ll mock you for failing.”

“I deserve the mockery, General. It will…” Malin’s smile held a sharp edge. “It will motivate me to avoid any similar occurrence. I’ll provide you with a detailed report when analysis of the agent’s death and the circumstances around it is complete.”

“Thanks.” Drakon gazed past Malin, wondering why he had an odd sense of something left hanging. Something important? Or… something that should be important? “Colonel Malin, what was the agent’s name?”

“Excuse me, General?” Malin seemed startled by the question.

“Her name. What was the name of the snake agent?”

Malin consulted his data pad. “Yvette Saludin, sir. Is that significant?”

“It was to her.” Drakon closed his eyes. “The snakes were threatening her family if she didn’t cooperate. Where is that family?”

“In Chako Star System, sir. According to the last information we have, Chako remains under firm Syndicate control.”

“There’s nothing we can do for them, then.” Drakon opened his eyes and focused on Malin again. “Does that bother you?”

“Me, General?” Malin shook his head, perplexed. “No, sir. We had no alternative but to arrest her, and once she started working for the snakes, her eventual fate was certain. She was dead from that moment. I do regret not being able to use her to get leads on the covert snakes still hidden among us.”

“Sure.” For all his talk of rejecting the Syndicate system, Malin could be remarkably cold-blooded. Morgan would kill with a rush of fire in her veins, while Malin would do it with ice filling him. They were opposite sides of the same card, because the result would be the same for whoever had the misfortune to get in their sights. “Anything new on Boyens’s flotilla?” Drakon asked, feeling a sudden desire to change the subject.

“No, sir. The mobile forces sent a light cruiser to drop surveillance satellites along the path between the Alliance fleet and the Syndicate flotilla. We have picked up a few transmissions, but they all consist of CEO Boyens inviting Black Jack and his fleet to leave and Black Jack or one of his subordinates telling CEO Boyens after you.”

“I just sent Black Jack a message,” Drakon said. “I don’t know what impact it’ll have. We’ll have to wait and see.”

The message from the Alliance fleet had come not from Black Jack but from a woman identifying herself as Emissary of the Alliance Government Victoria Rione. Iceni regarded the image of the Alliance civilian skeptically. An emissary? How much power does she actually have?

But the woman’s words quickly caught Iceni’s attention.

“We have been speaking with CEO Boyens,” Emissary Victoria Rione said. “As you are doubtless aware. Those discussions have not been particularly fruitful. He is eager for us to leave, for reasons you and I both know. CEO Boyens has already progressed from urging us to depart to issuing not-particularly-subtle threats, and when those do not work, I expect the threats to become overt.

“President Iceni, there is no question that CEO Boyens does not possess sufficient strength to threaten the Alliance forces here. I am told by the officers in this fleet that the flotilla CEO Boyens commands dares not leave the vicinity of the hypernet gate while we are here.”

Rione’s expression became more intense. “The next step is likely to be a threat to something that is very important to you and to us, something that CEO Boyens could strike at without moving his flotilla.”

Iceni bit off a curse. The hypernet gate. If Boyens threatens to damage it badly enough to cause it to collapse, we wouldn’t be able to do anything to stop him. I’m not at all certain that Boyens would carry out such a threat because the Syndicate government would be very unhappy at the loss of that gate, but can we afford the consequences if he did? We would still have the trade traffic generated by our jump points, but the gate gives us access to a lot more.

“There is a possible course of action that would frustrate such a threat,” Rione continued.

As she listened, Iceni began smiling. I’ll need to convince Drakon.

“You want to give the Alliance part ownership of the hypernet gate?” Drakon was staring at her as if wondering when insanity had set in. He had agreed without any argument to another private meeting in the former snake conference room that served as neutral ground for them. That quick agreement had left Iceni both pleased and wary of Drakon’s motives, because as the old Syndicate saying went, every gift horse needed to be looked in the mouth.

“It checkmates Boyens,” Iceni explained. “He can’t threaten to damage the gate if it is partly owned by the Alliance. That would be an attack by the Syndicate Worlds on Alliance government property.”

“It would break the peace treaty?”

“Clearly and without any doubt. Boyens has already identified himself as a representative of the Syndicate government and his flotilla as forces of that government. He could not possibly claim his actions were anything but an act of the Syndicate Worlds.”

“The Syndicate government at Prime would have his head on a platter.” Drakon stopped speaking, thoughts rushing behind his eyes. “How much?”

“How much of the gate? It doesn’t matter how small the Alliance’s ownership stake is. An attack on the gate would still be an attack on the Alliance. Would you be willing to consider one percent ownership for the Alliance?”

“One percent? What are we getting in return?”

“We already got it. We would grant the partial ownership in grateful acknowledgment of the defense of this star system from attacks by the enigma race.”

Drakon thought some more. “Is this your idea?”

“I wish it had been. There’s an Alliance politician with their fleet who proposed it. Rione is her name. We don’t have much information on her, but what we do have identifies her as a vice president of the Callas Republic and senator of the Alliance.”

“Sounds important,” Drakon observed.

“It does. Which makes it odd that she only identified herself as an emissary of the Alliance government. We’re a very long ways from the Alliance, but we’ve picked up faint rumors of disruptions there in the wake of the war. Nothing like the Syndicate Worlds has been facing, but problems.” Iceni paused. “If Black Jack has taken over the Alliance, he would need politicians to handle some of the heavy lifting of ruling all those star systems. Rione’s new title as an emissary, a personal emissary of Black Jack, might well be a lot more powerful than her former position.”

Drakon nodded, glancing at the image of Rione visible on the display over the table. “She’s good-looking enough. How personal do you think her relationship with Black Jack is?”

“I think,” said Iceni, feeling the frost in her voice, “that this Rione struck me as very skilled, perhaps the closest to a Syndicate CEO’s skills I have seen in anyone from the Alliance. I doubt she has had any need to use her body to advance her position.”

“I didn’t mean— Look, you know how things work. The one in charge decides the terms of employment, regardless of what the subordinates want and regardless of what the laws that everybody ignores say. It may not have been her choice if Black Jack wanted her.”

“I know how things work in the Syndicate system,” Iceni admitted, relenting. “You’re right. He could have demanded that of her. But from the little I’ve seen and heard of Black Jack, he doesn’t seem the type. Not everyone, even in the Syndicate, abuses their subordinates that way.”

“I agree with you,” Drakon said. “But we can safely assume that if this idea was presented by Black Jack’s emissary, it actually came from Black Jack.”

“It’s the sort of extremely clever political maneuvering we’ve seen from Black Jack,” Iceni agreed. She let Drakon see her internal unease for a moment. “We wouldn’t want to disappoint Black Jack since we still need his protection. But we’ll also be setting a precedent, in which we do as he… asks.”

Drakon nodded twice. “There’s not much we can do about that, is there? One percent. That’s fine with me. The deal benefits both of us. I have to admit, I’d love to see Boyens’s face when he hears about it.” He gazed at the star-system display near one wall of the office. “Revolting against the Syndicate was a matter of survival for us. I didn’t give much thought to some aspects of independence. Formal agreements, like this one with the Alliance. The one we’ve proposed to Taroa. Do we know enough to make sure we’re doing them right?”

“Are you worried about my skills, General Drakon?”

“No. But we’re going into very deep waters, here.”

“Agreed.” She altered the star display to show the entire region of nearby space. “We’re building a fortress of sorts with these agreements, adding strength to our own by drawing on the strengths of others. If we did this wrong, we’d be draining our strength into theirs. But I am confident that we will get as much or more from these agreements as our partners in the deals.”

“If we have enough time for their benefits to play out,” Drakon said.

“Yes. We need time as well as more allies among nearby star systems. Taroa wants to intervene in Kane.”

“I know.” He grimaced. “Kane is a tar pit from all I’ve seen. The last thing we need is to show up and become the one guy everybody else there will combine to fight. I’m also a bit concerned about Ulindi.”

“What have we heard from Ulindi?” Iceni asked.

“Very little. There’s an information blockade. I’m trying to find out what’s going on there that someone doesn’t want outsiders to know about.”

“Good. Unlike Ulindi, we’re dependent on the space traffic using our jump points and hypernet gate and can’t block ship movement to prevent anyone from learning what’s going on here.” She ran one hand through her hair. “Our preferred candidates appear to be well on their ways to winning the elections here. That will ensure stability.”

“We shouldn’t win every post,” Drakon argued. “That will make it look like we did the Syndicate thing and just faked the results.”

“We won’t win all of them. Just enough.” Iceni laughed. “And we won’t have to manipulate results, apparently. Our stock, and that of our supporters, is very high after our heroic stands during the enigma attack. Does that feel strange to you?”

“What?”

“We’re in charge because the people want us to be, not because we have the power to make them do what we want. Isn’t that odd?”

“And if the people change their minds?”

“We still have the power if we need it,” Iceni pointed out.

Kommodor Asima Marphissa sat on the bridge of her flagship, the heavy cruiser Manticore, painfully aware that of the various factions with mobile forces in Midway Star System, hers was the smallest and weakest. Half of her heavy cruisers remained at the gas giant, guarding the mobile forces dock there, leaving her to confront the Syndicate flotilla commanded by CEO Boyens with only two heavy cruisers, five light cruisers, and twelve Hunter-Killers. Her little flotilla would have been lost amid the Alliance fleet and was badly overmatched by the Syndicate flotilla of one battleship, six heavy cruisers, four light cruisers, and ten HuKs. She was inordinately proud of the tiny force, but she had no illusions about its size or capabilities.

Of course, I have a battleship, too. The Midway, which can move but not fight. Actually right now it can’t even move since Kapitan-Leytenant Kontos is still busy removing all of the braces tying the battleship to the main mobile forces facility. Only someone like Kontos could have figured out a way to use a battleship with no weapons to save that facility from the enigma attack.

I wonder how badly Kontos wants my job? Can President Iceni and I trust someone that ambitious and brilliant once the battleship has working weaponry?

“Kommodor, we have a transmission from the Syndicate flotilla,” the senior communications specialist reported, breaking into her gloomy train of thought.

“CEO Boyens has finally condescended to speak with me?” Marphissa asked. She had moved her flotilla much closer to the hypernet gate, less than five light-minutes from the Syndicate flotilla, openly taunting CEO Boyens and daring him to start a fight in which Black Jack and his fleet would hopefully intervene.

“It is not addressed to you, Kommodor. It was broadcast to our entire flotilla.”

“Let me see it.” She knew that workers and supervisors on every ship in the flotilla would be viewing that message, regardless of rules and regulations. Best to find out what Boyens was saying to them.

CEO Boyens wore the standard CEO smile for conversations with underlings (which naturally differed from the standard CEO smiles for conversations with equals or superiors). Marphissa had seen the patently insincere and patronizing expression often enough to instantly identify the smile, its exact shading based on the audience, and its lack of real meaning.

“Citizens,” Boyens began in the tone of a disappointed father. “You’ve been misled and misdirected. Doubtless you have been forced to take actions that you have not wished to take. Now you face serious threats and have no one to count on to protect you and your families except the dictators who call themselves President and General. You need not bow to their will any longer.”

Boyens’s standard smile was replaced by the standard Syndicate CEO insincere look of sincerity. “I am authorized to grant you all immunity for any actions taken contrary to the laws of the Syndicate Worlds and for any actions against the people of the Syndicate Worlds. It is more important to reward the loyal than to try to punish those who mistakenly trusted in the wrong authorities. Take control of your ships once more. Bring them under my authority, where I can protect you from not only the brutal forces of the dictators but also from the fist of the barbaric Alliance forces with which the dictators have allied themselves.

“You will be welcomed, you will be protected, and you will be rewarded. All you have to do is act in the interests of yourselves and of the people. For the people, Boyens, out.”

Marphissa glared sourly at where Boyens’s image had been. His message would have sounded a little more genuine if he hadn’t rushed over that last “for the people” in a monotone. How should I reply to this?

“He thinks we’re fools,” the senior communications specialist growled.

“He does,” Marphissa agreed. “What would you say to him?”

The specialist hesitated through force of habit. Workers in the Syndicate system were trained not to speak their minds, and learned quickly enough that invitations by executives and CEOs to offer their opinions were simply traps. But he had seen how things had changed since the Midway Star System gained independence, how former-executive-now-Kommodor Marphissa led her crews, and so the specialist committed the formerly foolish acts of looking directly at her and saying what he really thought. “Kommodor, I would tell him that we are not fools. That we are not simple enough or crazy enough to believe the promises of a Syndicate CEO. That… that we have experienced the rule of the Syndicate Worlds and know it has nothing to do with the welfare of the people. That President Iceni and General Drakon have given us more freedom than we have ever known, and have also given us reasons, and the power, to laugh at the lies of a CEO!” The specialist stopped speaking, looking worried by the sort of outburst that would have resulted in serious punishment under Syndicate rules.

Marphissa looked around the bridge, seeing agreement with the specialist’s speech on the face of every specialist and supervisor present. “I can’t improve on your words, Senior Specialist Lehmann. Would you like to send that reply to the CEO?”

Lehmann looked taken aback, then more worried, then defiant. “Yes, Kommodor. If you would permit me to.”

“I’ll introduce you, then say what you did before. You don’t need to make it longer or more elaborate. Just words from the heart.” Marphissa tapped the transmit command, ensuring that the reply would go not only to Boyens but also to every warship in the CEO’s flotilla as well as all of Marphissa’s warships. “CEO Boyens, no one here will accept your offer. If anyone on any of your units wishes to find freedom, they are welcome to join us. Here is one of our senior specialists with his reply to your words.”

Marphissa waited until Senior Specialist Lehmann had finished repeating his words, then refocused the pickup on her. “For the people,” she said, stating each word slowly and with emphasis, “Marphissa, out.”

She had let a line worker berate a CEO to his face. Marphissa felt a surge of elation at the act that overrode the fears of such an action created by a lifetime of experience and training.

The workers in Boyens’s flotilla would hear the words of Specialist Lehmann, would hear her words. Perhaps they would act on them even though the snakes aboard Boyens’s ships must be on constant alert and in larger numbers than before. It was a small hope, to cause some rebellion in the Syndicate warships, but all she could do besides watching others decide the fate of her star system.

“A message for both of us from Black Jack?” Drakon asked. He had come quickly when Iceni notified him. They could have linked displays, held a virtual meeting, but that would have involved an insane level of risk given the chance that someone would break into the link and monitor everything. Only a personal meeting, in a room confirmed clean of monitoring devices by both her and Drakon’s techs, could offer enough security.

“Yes. Watch it, then tell me what you think.” She tapped her controls, and the image of Black Jack appeared over the table.

Admiral Geary looked and sounded as formal as she had ever seen him. “President Iceni, General Drakon, I have two matters I need to place before you. First of all, President Iceni, I have to inform you that while in space controlled by the enigma race, we were able to locate and free some humans who had been kept prisoner by the enigmas, apparently for study. All of them, except those born in captivity, originated from Syndicate Worlds’ colonies or ships. All have been checked as thoroughly as possible, and no signs of biological or other contamination or threat has been found.

“It is important for me to emphasize that none of them know anything about the enigmas. They were sealed inside an asteroid and never even saw any of their captors. They can tell no one anything about the enigmas. They have all been impacted mentally, physically, and emotionally by their long imprisonment. Given their condition, I intend taking the majority of them back to Alliance space, where I can arrange care and transport back to their home star systems elsewhere in the Syndicate Worlds. However, three of the prisoners say they or their parents came from Taroa, and fifteen others say they came from this star system. Those eighteen wish to return home now. We want to accommodate those wishes, but I desire first to know whatever else you can tell me about conditions at Taroa, and second to know your intentions toward the fifteen who came from Midway. I feel an obligation to see that they are treated well now that they have been freed.”

Geary paused. “The second matter concerns formalizing our relationship with the new government of Midway.”

Iceni had already heard this once, but still felt her heart leap at the words. Formalizing our relationship. He’s officially recognizing this star system as independent, and both Drakon and me as the legitimate rulers here. This is better than I had hoped for.

“I am proposing,” Geary continued, “to assign a senior Alliance officer here to represent the Alliance, to make plain our commitment to your star system, and to render whatever advice or assistance you might ask for in matters of defense and in your transition to a freer form of government. The officer whom I propose to assign here is Captain Bradamont, who has been serving as commanding officer of the battle cruiser Dragon. She is an excellent officer, and because she was at one point a prisoner of war, she has had some prior contact with Syndicate Worlds’ officers and can work with them. Captain Bradamont has already agreed to this official posting, but I require your consent for such an assignment, which I think will be to the benefit of everyone involved. The emissaries of the Alliance government accompanying this fleet have already approved the posting of Captain Bradamont here, so all we require is the acceptance of your government.

“I await your reply on both of these matters. To the honor of our ancestors, Geary, out.”

The message ended, yet Drakon sat for several seconds without saying anything. Finally, he looked at her. “Formalizing our relationship. Does that mean what I think it does?”

“Yes. He’s giving us something very important, official recognition from the Alliance, official recognition from Black Jack himself, but with two complications.”

“Let’s tackle the easier one,” Drakon suggested. “Those people the enigmas had.”

“That’s easier?” She regarded him steadily. “Do you believe Black Jack that none of them know anything about the enigmas?”

“Yes.” Drakon grimaced. “Not because I tend to believe Alliance officers but because there wouldn’t be any point in his lying about that if he intends giving them to us. If he were keeping them? Yes, then I’d be very suspicious. But after we get them, we can ask them anything we want.”

“Once again, Black Jack proves he’s a brilliant politician. He’s giving us the truth and a deal we can’t refuse.” Iceni drummed her fingers on the arm of her chair. “Those citizens. We have to take them. If word ever got out that we’d been offered them and turned Black Jack down, there would be hell to pay. We’d be accused of conspiring with him to keep those citizens’ knowledge of the enigmas hidden.”

“Like you’ve said, he’s tricky.”

“If he has boxed us in on this issue, where can we put them? Where did he say the enigmas held them?”

“Inside an asteroid.” Drakon rubbed his chin, thinking. “It sounds like they had spent a long time there. They wouldn’t want to be dumped on a planet’s surface. It would mess them up to have that much open around them.”

“How do you know that?” Iceni asked. “Black Jack said they had been impacted by their imprisonment, but he didn’t offer any details.”

Drakon paused as if deciding whether to answer, then shrugged. “I knew some people who got released from a labor camp after a long time confined. They were… very uncomfortable without four walls around them.”

Iceni wondered what to say. How many of us know someone who was sent to the labor camps? Not many of us got to meet someone released from the camps, though. Too many died in them. “Were these people friends of yours?”

“Yeah.” Drakon looked down, his expression hard and closed off.

All right. I won’t ask more. I’ll even change the subject for you. “What are you suggesting for these former prisoners of the enigmas then?”

He looked up, obviously relieved that she had not pressed for more personal information. “The main orbiting facility. It’s limited in size, it’s somewhat like what they were used to, it’s a mixed-use facility with military and citizens, security won’t be a major issue since it will be easy to control access, and no one will be able to accuse us of locking them up for our own purposes.”

“Hmmm.” Iceni smiled. “We might even get some credit out of it with the citizens. Look! For the first time, someone has been brought out of space controlled by the enigmas. And here they are, free again, thanks to our relationship with Black Jack.”

Drakon nodded, then fixed his gaze on her. “They’re not really the first.”

“To come out of enigma space?” Iceni asked. “I suppose Colonel Morgan does have the right to claim that. One thing you didn’t tell me was why. Do you know why she volunteered for a suicide mission when she was barely eighteen years old?”

“No. She had been raised in an official orphanage, both parents dead in the war, but Morgan never says one word about it. However, she got a medical waiver to be commissioned after that mission.”

“Oh? What does it say?”

Drakon scowled. “It doesn’t say much beyond approving her for duty. She needed that waiver. Otherwise, Morgan would have been sent into combat as worker-level soldier cannon fodder. That’s what happened to the other guy who was recovered from that mission. He died within a month of being shipped off to one of those battles where we and the Alliance kept feeding in men and women and ships and equipment as if eventually we could choke the machinery of slaughter by giving it enough victims.”

She watched him, knowing the sorts of battles of which Drakon spoke and the awful sense of futility they had created, as if nothing and no one could stop the senseless dying. “But Morgan was saved from that fate when she was commissioned?” Iceni asked as if she had not already known that because of Togo’s investigations. “She must have had a patron to get that waiver. Do you have any idea who her patron was?”

“No. I had to assume she passed the waiver requirements, because Morgan has no connections to anyone who could have arranged a deal.”

“No connections that you know of,” Iceni pressed.

“I’ve looked pretty hard,” Drakon said in a way that made it clear his search had been exhaustive. “But you already know that about her, that she came back from enigma space. I brought that up because, well, we both know Morgan’s got a few issues.”

“That’s putting it mildly.”

“Some of those issues could have predated that mission and explained why she volunteered. There’s no way to know. And,” Drakon pushed on, “this all applies to these citizens who were held by the enigmas. We don’t know who they are, what they did, how they ended up in enigma hands. If the enigmas have hands. Some of them might have issues now, too, and need a lot of help.”

“I see.” Iceni nodded judiciously. “I hadn’t thought of that. Yes, until the citizens are evaluated, we can’t just turn them loose. That will more than justify limiting access to them and keeping them secure. The fact that it’s a valid reason will help keep anyone from questioning our motives.”

“Do we have other motives with them?” Drakon asked.

She had to pause and think. “If they truly don’t know anything? Probably not. I think your ideas for the released citizens are very good ones. We can keep the ones from Taroa up there, too, until we hear back from the Free Taroans.” Iceni smiled wryly. “Though it may take a very long while for the still-interim government of Free Taroa to make a decision on the matter as they debate and argue and discuss.”

“Hopefully, the Taroan citizens won’t have died of old age while waiting,” Drakon agreed. “We’re already paying out enough bribes and applying other pressure to get the defense agreement approved before anyone at Taroa realizes how tightly they’ll be tied to us by that agreement. We can’t afford to invest effort right now into getting the Taroans to take the prisoners, too. Now, the other deal. You know about this Alliance officer, Bradamont.”

“I know,” Iceni said, careful once more to choose her words, “that she is linked to Colonel Rogero. And I know that we just used that link to pass our own version of events to Black Jack. I also know the snake records we captured contained a file on this Bradamont that identified her as a source code-named Mantis. Do you know the full story behind that?”

“I guess it’s my day to talk about my staff.” Drakon looked away, one hand to his mouth as he thought. “The short version is this. Several years back, Colonel Rogero and a small group of soldiers returning from visits home were drafted to serve as guards on a modified freighter hauling Alliance prisoners of war to a labor camp. On the way there, the freighter suffered a serious accident. Rogero let the Alliance prisoners out of confinement to save their lives, then let them assist in repairing the damage to the freighter to save everyone’s lives.”

Iceni shook her head. “The wise thing, the right thing, but also the contrary-to-regulations thing.”

“Right. When they reached safety, Rogero was arrested. The CEO involved decided that since Rogero cared so much for the Alliance prisoners, he could spend more time with them by being assigned to the typically hellhole labor camp where they were confined. While serving there…” Drakon spread his hands. “Rogero and Bradamont fell in love.”

“Rather odd circumstances for that,” Iceni observed.

“Yes, but you see, they knew each other. Rogero told me Bradamont led the Alliance prisoners during the accident and while fixing the damage. She impressed the hell out of him. And she had seen Rogero risk his neck to save the Alliance prisoners.”

Iceni nodded, finally understanding. “They knew some very important things about each other.”

“While that was going on, I had been trying to find out why Rogero hadn’t made it back from leave. I had just tracked him to the labor camp when the snakes there found out about him and Bradamont. I was told that the only question regarding Rogero’s future was whether he would join the inhabitants at another labor camp or just be executed.”

“What saved him?”

“I saved him,” Drakon said, matter-of-factly and without any hint of boasting. “I suggested to the snakes that they could use Bradamont’s affection for Rogero. Use that to turn this Bradamont so she’d report on Alliance stuff from the inside.” Drakon grinned. “The snakes loved the idea. Of course, implementing it meant getting Bradamont back in the Alliance fleet, so the snakes arranged for her to be transported near the border with the Alliance and leaked the information. Her transport got intercepted, she got liberated by Alliance Marines and sent back to the Alliance fleet. Meanwhile, Rogero got sent back to me. I was told that was so he could pretend to send good intelligence to the Alliance in exchange for whatever Bradamont sent him, just as I’d proposed. But Rogero told me flat out that the snakes wanted him to spy on me, too.”

“Naturally. But, by knowing who their spy was, you could better protect yourself from the snakes.” Iceni rested her forehead on one palm. “The relationship is real? It seemed so from that message from Rogero that we passed to Black Jack.”

“It’s real.”

“Did she really spy on the Alliance for us?”

“I seriously doubt it. What the snakes had Rogero send her was stuff the Alliance already knew, along with false information to mislead the Alliance. From what Rogero could tell, the stuff he got from her was the same sort of junk.”

Iceni glanced at Drakon. “Do you think Alliance intelligence was using her the same way the snakes were using Rogero?”

“I’m certain of it.”

“So she has been an agent of Alliance intelligence for some years already.”

“Why else would they want to assign her here?” Drakon pointed out. “But she’s also been, as Black Jack said, commanding officer of an Alliance battle cruiser.”

“During Black Jack’s campaign against the Syndicate Worlds,” Iceni added thoughtfully. “What that woman must know about his way of fighting.” She sat up straighter. “Black Jack said she would render advice and assistance. Including on defense matters. That knowledge could be invaluable to us. Oh, he is devious. Military advice to us, offered in a form that looks completely innocuous.”

“You want to accept her, then?”

“We can’t afford to turn her down! And if Colonel Rogero can really vouch for her…” Iceni chewed her lower lip as she thought. “It will be touchy. Very touchy. She’s the enemy. Not officially, not anymore, but we’ve spent our lives seeing the uniform she wears as that of the enemy. An enemy who killed untold numbers of our citizens.”

“We started it,” Drakon said dryly.

“And you know how little that matters to the average worker.” Iceni shook her head. “We’ll have to figure out how to handle it. Formal recognition of our status as an independent star system by the Alliance, and an officer who both represents Black Jack and can advise on his tactics. We cannot turn this down.”

Drakon nodded. “You’re right, but you’re also right about how hard it will be to get anyone to work with her. Do you want to confine her to the orbital facility for a while?”

“No. I want her free to go where she wants to go and do what she wants to do.” Iceni smiled. “That way we’ll learn where she wants to go and what she wants to do.”

“Fair enough. We know she’ll be telling Black Jack what’s happening here.”

“As long as she doesn’t try to set up an Alliance spy ring, I can accept that.”

Drakon played with the controls for a moment, and Iceni once again saw Geary speaking part of his message. “. . . in your transition to a freer form of government . . .”

“That might be a problem,” Iceni conceded. “If he really expects us to keep offering the citizens more freedom and say in the government. We do have some measures under way already, such as the elections for low-level officials, that should gladden the heart of the Alliance.”

“I have been getting advice that we should continue that process as far as we can safely take it,” Drakon said. “For the sake of long-term stability and ensuring citizen buy-in to our government.”

Where have I heard that before? That assistant of Drakon’s. Colonel Malin. He must still be pushing the idea. “As long as the emphasis remains on as far as we can safely take it, I don’t object to that concept in theory,” Iceni said. “In any event, that’s a long-term problem. We have one other short-term problem. What about your Colonel Rogero?”

Drakon brooded over the question for several seconds. “I want to leave it up to Colonel Rogero. I’ll back whatever decision he makes.”

As I could have guessed before I asked the question. “That could hurt him,” Iceni said. “If the citizens learn that she is not only an Alliance officer but also served as a source for the snakes . . .”

“Rogero was technically a source, too. He misled the snakes at every turn, but their files list him as a source. Let’s try to keep that quiet in both their cases.”

“Let’s.” Iceni sat looking at Drakon. “Does anyone else know about Rogero and Bradamont? About Rogero’s ties to the snakes?”

Drakon nodded heavily. “One person.”

Something about the way he said it brought a lump of anxiety to life in her guts. One person. “Not her.”

“Yeah. Colonel Morgan.”

“Why in the hell did you tell—”

“I didn’t tell her!” Drakon glared at Iceni. “She found out while checking for hidden snake agents after the mess with Colonel Dun. I told you she was good.”

“Oh… wonderful!” Iceni tried to damp down her aggravation. “Can we keep her alive?”

“Morgan?”

“Bradamont!”

“Oh.” Drakon’s expression shaded to grim determination. “Yes. You don’t have to worry about that.”

“Pardon me, but I will be worrying about that!” Iceni sighed and managed to regain control. “If you tell me that Bradamont will be safe from… threats, then I will tell Black Jack that we will accept her and the citizens freed from the enigmas.”

Drakon nodded and leaned forward to emphasize his words. “Ask if Bradamont will bring some intel about what Black Jack’s fleet did in enigma space, and wherever they found the six mystery ships and that mammoth battleship. We haven’t been told anything about those yet. If Black Jack really wants to formalize things, his representative should be willing to share some of that information. We’re closer to the enigmas than any other star system. We need to know what he found out and what he found.”

“Yes. Absolutely,” Iceni agreed. “I will phrase it diplomatically, but I will make it clear that we hope for such information and regard it as of critical importance to the security of this star system.” Another thought hit her then, causing Iceni to give Drakon a keen glance. “Bradamont’s code name was Mantis. Why did the snakes call her that?”

He shrugged. “I have no idea. Snakes aren’t in the habit of explaining things. Why does it matter? A mantis is an insect, right? Some sort of bug? The code name was probably intended as a put-down of Bradamont.”

“I don’t think so,” Iceni said. “A mantis isn’t just any insect. It’s a very deadly insect. A predator. And a species in which the female mantises devour the males.”

Drakon stared at Iceni, then shook his head. “Well, an Alliance battle cruiser commander. They’re tough, right? Maybe that’s what it was about. Or maybe it was the snakes’ idea of a joke.”

“Maybe. If she was working with Alliance intelligence, they would have given her their own code name. I wonder what Alliance intelligence called her?”

Iceni sat for a while after Drakon had left, letting thoughts tumble through her mind. Many of the issues bedeviling her could not be resolved quickly or easily or perhaps at all. Like Morgan. I can’t send Togo after her. He could take her. He’s so good he even frightens me. But any link between me and whoever killed Morgan would kill any hope of working with Drakon again. He’s far too obsessed with that loyalty thing.

I need to contact Malin again. He refused to kill Morgan before. Maybe he’ll agree now. Why wouldn’t he want that woman dead? If he still won’t get rid of her, I’ll let him know that he had better keep her from doing anything against me or this Captain Bradamont. If Morgan does strike at me or her, Malin needs to know that I’ll hold him responsible.

“Kommodor! A new warship has arrived at the hypernet gate!”

Marphissa bolted awake. She had been only fitfully sleeping, worn down by the long stalemate. Day after day of the Syndicate flotilla and the Midway Flotilla glaring at each other across five light-minutes of space, the Alliance fleet orbiting nearly two light-hours away checkmating any offensive action by the Syndicate CEO. Boyens couldn’t attack, but he wouldn’t leave, and she didn’t have enough firepower to force him to go.

Despite her haste, Marphissa checked the passageway outside her door to ensure no one was waiting in ambush. Syndicate executives and CEOs got into those kinds of habits or fell prey to ambitious subordinates looking to clear a few openings for promotion. That was changing. But there were still snake agents rumored to be hidden among the military and citizens of the star system, so old habits would remain current practice.

The way looking clear and her sidearm ready, Marphissa yanked open her hatch and ran for the bridge.

Inside, a sense of excitement had replaced the boredom that had been wearing at everyone. “A new warship? What is it?” Marphissa demanded as she dropped into her command seat.

“Heavy cruiser, Kommodor,” the senior watch specialist announced. “Modified with extra cargo capacity and life support. They’ve seen the Syndicate flotilla and are running.”

“Running?” Marphissa looked carefully over the situation portrayed on her display before concentrating on the movement of the new heavy cruiser. “Do we have any ID yet?”

“It should have shown up at the same time we saw the cruiser’s arrival, Kommodor,” the watch specialist said. “We’ve seen nothing.”

She took another look at the new arrival, whose first action upon seeing the Syndicate flotilla had been to run. “Send him our ID. I’ll also send him a personal message.”

Activity on the bridge paused for a moment as Kapitan Toirac arrived and hastily sat down in the seat next to Marphissa. “What’s going on?”

She spared him a glance, thinking that just about every CEO, sub-CEO, and executive she had ever worked for would have publicly raked Toirac over the coals for getting to the bridge after his superior. “Check your display,” she said, then turned to face the pickup for her own transmission. “To the unknown cruiser that just arrived at the hypernet gate, this is Kommodor Marphissa of the Midway Flotilla. We are a free and independent star system no longer answering to the authority of the Syndicate Worlds. If you wish to join with us, you will be welcome. If you are heading for another star system, close on our flotilla and we will defend you from the Syndicate flotilla in this star system and escort you to the jump exit of your choice. Our forces will assist in the defense of anyone seeking freedom from Syndicate tyranny. For the people, Marphissa, out.”

“Kommodor,” the senior watch specialist began urgently.

“I see.” Alerts had appeared on her display as ships in the Syndicate flotilla began changing vectors. “Accelerating, coming around. All the heavy cruisers and all the Hunter-Killers.”

“Are they going after the new cruiser?” Kapitan Toirac asked.

“It’s a safe bet,” Marphissa said. “We need to see if—”

“Kommodor?” the watch specialist said. “We have run the courses. If the Syndicate forces proceed at their best speed, then even at maximum acceleration we cannot reach that new cruiser before they do.”

That watch specialist was overdue for a promotion. “Can the new cruiser get clear? He should have had enough of a head start.”

“He’s hauling a lot of extra mass, Kommodor. It’s limiting his acceleration. If current projections hold, the Syndicate ships will catch him.”

Damn. She glanced over at Kapitan Toirac, who was staring fixedly at his own display with the look of a man who was completely out of his depth and trying very hard not to let anyone notice. I recommended he be given a shot as commanding officer of this ship. A lot of junior executives moved up fast when we cleaned out the Syndicate loyalists. Some of them could handle it. My old friend Toirac though… he was a good executive. Was that level of authority as much as he could handle? “What do you think, Kapitan?” Marphissa prompted.

“Uh? Ah.” Toirac focused intently on his display again. “We can’t get there… and we’re badly outnumbered… I don’t see that we can do anything.”

“Not doing anything is a choice, Kapitan,” Marphissa said in a quiet voice. “An absence of action is an action. I will not choose to sit by while those others are wiped out by Syndicate forces.”

Toirac flushed. “It could be a trap.”

“A trap? The new cruiser as a decoy to lure us into trying to save it?” Marphissa pondered that. “That’s possible. But they’re being clumsy about it if that’s the case. They should have set up the situation so it appears we can get to the new cruiser in time to help. What if it’s not a trap? What can we do?”

Frowning with concentration, Toirac shrugged. “A demonstration of force? Something to distract the Syndicate forces?”

“I don’t see—” Marphissa’s gaze had settled on the Syndicate flagship. A battleship, far too powerful for her flotilla to engage. Only an insane commander would try to attack the battleship while almost all the Syndicate escorts were chasing the new cruiser. “Run this,” she ordered. “An intercept on the Syndicate battleship. Can the Syndicate heavy cruisers and HuKs catch the new cruiser and get back to the battleship before we get there?”

Everyone from Toirac on down stared at her for a fraction of a second, then instincts instilled by Syndicate training in obedience to orders took over, and hands flew across displays. “No,” Toirac announced before anyone else, smiling at having displayed his skill at maneuvering calculations. “That is, if we did that, they couldn’t get back before we—”

“Then we’re going.” She had already set up the maneuver on her own display. “All units in the Midway Flotilla, this is Kommodor Marphissa. Execute attached maneuver immediately. Out.”

Four hours later, on the inhabited planet, President Gwen Iceni watched the unfolding situation near the hypernet gate as the light from the events finally reached her. Alerted to the arrival of the new cruiser, she watched it begin to flee, watched the Syndicate flotilla, commanded by CEO Boyens, send a strong force in pursuit, saw her display confirm that the new cruiser was doomed, saw the ships of the Midway Flotilla, her warships, also accelerate into new vectors. What is Kommodor Marphissa doing? She can’t—

Iceni stared in disbelief as the vectors on Marphissa’s small group of warships steadied out. They were headed straight for an intercept on Boyens’s battleship, a single warship that was more than a match for everything combined in the Midway Flotilla.

It had all happened four hours ago. Marphissa’s entire flotilla—No, my entire flotilla—had probably already been wiped out.