Shattered Spear

Chapter Twelve

“So, what’s the plan?” Colonel Safir asked as she formally took over responsibility for the areas of the planet where Colonel Rogero’s brigade normally provided security.

“We’re still working on that,” Rogero admitted.

“If we were still under the Syndicate,” Safir reminisced, “they’d order us to send in a worker to make the aliens blow a segment of their installation, then send in another worker to blow up another segment, and so on until either the aliens ran out of segments or we ran out of workers.”

“I have a feeling the enigmas have a way of dealing with a tactic like that,” Rogero said. “They must have a way, because according to Black Jack’s people the enigmas have likely fought among themselves. They have to have developed a means of fighting a ground opponent that doesn’t guarantee victory to the commander most willing to send someone in to die.”

“Yeah,” Safir agreed. “Because from all we know the enigmas don’t have any problem with dying in the line of duty. Hey, you know what might work?”

“If this is a new idea, I’d love to hear it.”

“If they had some way to blind attackers,” Safir said. “Not just what we think of as jamming. I mean, block everything. Visual, infrared, radar, comms, sound. You’re fighting them, you’re in the installation, but you can’t see anything or hear anything, so the enigmas wouldn’t have to blow a section until they actually lost control of it.”

Rogero stared at her. “What made you think of that?”

“I used to explore caves when I was a kid. One time my light failed and… it was dark.” Safir shuddered. “I just remembered that, and how I could have been surrounded by stobor or fuzzies or anything and I wouldn’t have known.”

“I think you figured it out. Now all I have to do is figure out how to counter whatever means the enigmas have for full-spectrum blinding and sound suppression.”

“Your transports won’t be pulling out for a little while yet. I’ll talk to Kai and the general and see if we can’t come up with some ideas.” Safir made an ancient sign, the sort of thing that would have been prohibited under Syndicate rule. “Good fortune.”

“Thank you. Take care of things around here while I’m gone.” Rogero returned the gesture that his own family had secretly passed down, then headed back to his unit to oversee their lift up to the troop transports waiting in orbit.

It only took two of the big troop transports captured from the Syndicate at Ulindi to carry all of Colonel Rogero’s brigade. The brigade’s soldiers, who had stayed at Midway to provide security during Ulindi and had since endured considerable taunting for “missing the hard fight,” were in generally good spirits despite the rumors about the difficulties of their impending mission. That was at least partially because the troop quarters on the transports, which were of the usual Syndicate bare-bones type for workers, were still much superior to the cramped accommodations on converted freighters which the soldiers had endured on earlier missions.

Rogero stood on the bridge of troop transport HTTU 332 along with Leytenant Mack, the commanding officer. Mack, like HTTU 332, had been Syndicate before being captured at Ulindi. Mack and his crew had been happy to change allegiances, but he appeared to be far from enthusiastic about taking the soldiers to Iwa to confront an alien enemy. He had nonetheless handled every part of the embarkation efficiently enough to impress Rogero.

“Can I ask you something, Colonel?” Mack said during a pause in shuttle arrivals.

“Of course,” Rogero said.

“These aliens I’m hearing about. They control space beyond Pele Star System?”

“That’s right,” Rogero said. “The Syndicate had expanded into that region a century ago, but then started getting rolled back by a mysterious opponent whose ships were invisible to Syndicate sensors. The Syndicate ended up being pushed back as far as Midway over the next several decades, then not long ago what we call the enigma race tried to take Midway as well.”

“And you guys stopped them,” Mack said, visibly impressed.

“Black Jack’s fleet stopped them,” Rogero corrected. “He’d just ended the war with the Syndicate, and came here to save Midway from the enigma attack.”

Mack called up a small display of nearby space and pointed to one of the stars beyond Pele Star System. “Some relatives of mine were among those sent by the Syndicate to colonize this star system. All my family ever knew was that they stopped getting messages back. The Syndicate never told anyone anything.”

“What had happened was inconvenient for the Syndicate to admit to,” Rogero said, “so the Syndicate just rewrote history again and wrote that part out of it.”

“But now I’ve got some idea what happened.” Mack gazed at the display, his face grim. “They never got anybody back?”

“No. Not once the enigmas had taken a place. Not until we pulled those three soldiers off Iwa. Every place the enigmas have taken they have eliminated every trace of humans once being there.”

“My people are long gone, then. No descendants to try to contact.” Mack gave Rogero a determined look. “We’ll get you to Iwa and get you and your ground forces down to that planet. Take a piece out of those enigmas, for my family, all right?”

“We’ll do our best,” Rogero promised.

One week later, the expedition to Iwa was ready to depart.

It was the largest force Midway Star System had ever assembled. Small by the standards of the immense war with the Alliance that had ended not long ago, or by comparison to the fleet that Black Jack had brought through Midway more than once, the flotilla was nonetheless impressive when measured against the forces now operating in this region of space that had once been firmly under control of the rebellion-wracked Syndicate Worlds.

The flotilla resembled a school of disparate predatory sea creatures moving in unison. Instead of the standard Syndicate box formation, Marphissa had arranged the flotilla in a flattened sphere. In the center were the whalelike shapes of the two troop transports. Just above them moved the battleship Midway, even larger than the transports, shaped like an immense, fat shark. Ahead of and below the transports the battle cruiser Pele swam through space, also sharklike but leaner and more lithe than the battleship. Ranked behind the largest ships were the two heavy cruisers, Basilisk and Kraken, dwarfed by the battle cruiser and battleship but still lethal-looking as they protected the rear of the flotilla.

Three light cruisers ranged ahead like barracudas, small by comparison to the major warships but long and slender and dangerous-looking. Ranged all around the formation were seven Hunter-Killers, sized and shaped like deadly young offspring of the light cruisers.

President Gwen Iceni sat in the fleet command seat on the bridge of Midway, smiling as she viewed the spectacle on her display. “I have been part of Syndicate flotillas much larger than this,” she commented to Kapitan Mercia, “but I have never been as impressed as I am by these warships.”

She looked around the bridge. “I haven’t been back here since we captured this ship from the Syndicate at Kane. Have you been told of Kapitan Kontos’s stand inside the bridge citadel on this ship?”

“I have heard of it,” Mercia said. “Not from Kontos himself. He dismissed that action as not worth discussing.”

“That doesn’t surprise me. It was an heroic stand, the sort of thing anyone could boast about, but Kontos seems to have no ego. I didn’t think that was possible in a man.” Iceni ran her right hand down the arm of her seat. “I have been very fortunate in the quality of those men and women who have chosen to accept my orders.”

“Good fortune had little to do with it,” Mercia said. “We follow you because you have given us all good reason to do so. I cannot believe that Imallye’s commanders are so well-motivated.”

“I wish we knew more about them,” Iceni said. “We have agents out, but the distances and the time lags are such that we have heard little back from any of the agents in the short time we had before having to act.” She rested her elbows on the arms of her seat, clasping her hands together and placing her chin on them as she gazed at her display. “We did get a report from Moorea that came by a roundabout means. Apparently, Imallye isn’t instituting any big changes where she takes control. She just changes the titles. Her representative is installed as star system CEO in all but name and uses the existing Syndicate infrastructure.”

“I can see that working in the short term,” Mercia said. “The citizens would be waiting to see if anything changed for them. But once they figure out that it’s the same game with different bosses, and without the entire Syndicate backing those bosses, they’ll push back. You know how they can do that.”

“Oh, yes, I know how they can do that,” Iceni agreed, smiling crookedly. “Theft, slowdowns, diversions, so-called mistakes, so-called accidents, and many more tricks and games. The citizens can make the system grind almost to a halt without ever overtly going on strike.” She looked over at Mercia. “That’s one thing the Syndicate succeeded at. Teaching workers how to sabotage a system in ways that can’t be pinpointed or proven.”

“Those of us who realized that always knew the importance of respecting our workers,” Mercia commented. “But we always seemed to be working for idiots who thought threats and punishment would fix any problem.”

“We’ve come such a long way,” Iceni said, letting the irony sound in her voice. “Here we are going to Iwa to fix our problems with massive amounts of firepower.”

“That’s not a path you chose.”

“No.” Iceni glanced at Mercia again. “We’ll have to ensure that Imallye knows I am aboard Midway. Once Imallye knows that, she will focus her efforts on destroying this ship.”

“I look forward to it,” Mercia replied with her own small smile.

Iceni looked at the image of the planet Midway, realizing that she had not left this star system since the expedition that had resulted in the capture of this battleship. A lot had happened since then. “Someday… no, right now… Midway Star System must be as a battleship itself, a fortress that all attacks break upon, and that protects those inside it. What I have risked all to create must not be lost.”

“It will not be, if the citizens have any say in the matter,” Mercia replied.

“Did I say that out loud?” Iceni asked, embarrassed.

Fortunately, she was saved from any further comment by the appearance of Kommodor Marphissa’s image before her. Marphissa was in the fleet command seat aboard Pele, looking perfectly at home there despite the responsibilities that seat implied.

Marphissa saluted. “Madam President, I request permission to take the flotilla out of orbit and begin the transit to the jump point for Iwa.”

Returning the salute, Iceni nodded. “Permission is granted, Kommodor. One more thing. You will command this flotilla. That is not my function here. From this point forward, you are to issue all commands that you deem needed without first requesting permission from me.”

“Yes, Madam President,” Marphissa said. “Does that include the order to jump for Iwa?”

“That includes all orders, Kommodor. Just ensure that I receive a copy of them so I am aware of what is happening.” Iceni smiled at her. “You have my confidence. You are more than welcome to ask my opinion if time permits, but do not hesitate to command this flotilla as you see fit.”

“Yes, Madam President. I understand and will comply.” With a return smile she could not quite suppress, Marphissa’s image vanished.

Iceni tapped a control, and a moment later the image of Colonel Rogero appeared. “Yes, Madam President.”

“Are you as fully prepared as possible, Colonel?”

“Yes.” Rogero gestured with one hand as if casting a die. “There are a number of uncertainties remaining, but we will confront them and deal with them.”

“I want it clearly understood, Colonel,” Iceni emphasized, “that if you confront something that appears to be beyond your soldiers’ abilities to deal with, that you inform me so we can make any necessary alterations in our plans. I want that enigma facility captured if at all possible. But if it becomes clear that that is impossible, if our planned tactics do not work as hoped, then I will not hesitate to order the withdrawal of your forces and the bombardment of that base with a rock big enough to split the planet. You are not to destroy your brigade attempting to achieve the unachievable.”

“I understand and will comply, Madam President.” Rogero saluted. “And, thank you. If the task can be done by human effort, the men and women in my brigade will succeed. General Drakon asked me to ensure that you knew that two of the soldiers rescued from Iwa are with my brigade. They were insistent on going back to Iwa to fight the aliens who killed their comrades.”

Iceni sought for words, then simply nodded. “I hope those two don’t expect to find peace inside themselves by seeking vengeance.”

Rogero smiled slightly. “But are you not seeking Vengeance, Madam President?”

It took her a moment to get the joke. She could not help a snort of laughter at the wordplay. “Tell your Captain Bradamont that I will do my best to bring you home, Colonel. For the people. Iceni, out.”

Aboard Pele, Marphissa looked around the battle cruiser’s bridge, which felt ridiculously large after all the time she had spent on a heavy cruiser. Next to her seat was that of Kapitan Kontos, who still appeared so young that Marphissa felt an irrational urge to mother him even though she wasn’t that much older. But Kontos was already a veteran of some very demanding battles, and had proven himself not only daring enough for command of a battle cruiser but also the sort of leader whose crew would strive to do anything for him.

Kontos noticed her look and grinned. “This should be an adventure, Kommodor.”

“That’s one way of looking at it,” Marphissa agreed. She tapped a control to talk to Kapitan Diaz aboard Manticore. “We’re about to begin our transit to Iwa. Take care of this star system until we get back, Kapitan.”

Diaz nodded back, his expression serious. “We will die defending this star system, Kommodor.”

She shook her head at him. “I don’t want you to die defending this star. I want you to kill anyone who attacks it. Are you clear on that?”

Diaz’s sober face split into a grin. “Yes, Kommodor. They are to die, not us. I understand and will comply.”

“See that you do. The defense of Midway Star System will be in your hands once this flotilla jumps for Iwa, but we’ll be out of position to stop attacks coming in from some vectors well before that. Listen to Captain Bradamont, but also listen to your gut. You’ve got good instincts.”

“Thank you, Kommodor. Give Granaile Imallye my respects when you kick her butt back to Moorea.”

“I’ll do that.” Marphissa ended the call and tried to relax, feeling suddenly small and far too inexperienced for this command. That sensation only lasted a moment, though. She had fought and beaten the Syndicate. She had fought and beaten Imallye. She had outwitted the enigmas and snatched stranded ground forces soldiers from right under their noses. If they had noses. And she had the confidence of not only Captain Honore Bradamont, one of Black Jack’s own battle cruiser commanders, but also that of President Iceni. I will not be overconfident, but I think I have every right to feel qualified for this command!

She touched the flotilla command circuit control. “All units in the Midway Offensive Flotilla, at time two zero come port three five degrees, down zero four degrees, and accelerate to point one five light speed. Marphissa, out.”

The small multitude of warships swung around under the push of their thrusters, lining up on the same vector, then accelerated together toward the jump point for Iwa Star System. Every ship maintained its position relative to the battleship Midway, which formed the physical guide of the flotilla as well as its figurative heart.

The cruisers and Hunter-Killers of the Midway Guard Flotilla split away from the others, one group heading to an orbit guarding against attacks from the hypernet gate or the jump point from Pele Star System, and the other group moving to take up position to guard against Syndicate attacks from most of the other jump points that Midway boasted. In terms of commerce, those many jump points were a major blessing. In terms of defense, they were a major headache. But Kapitan Diaz would be able to handle whatever came up, Marphissa was certain. And if he needed any advice, Captain Bradamont would be there with him.

But, still, she worried. The Syndicate had surprised them more than once already, and the Syndicate wanted Midway back very badly. If the CEOs running the remnants of the Syndicate had heard that most of Midway’s warships were heading to Iwa, they might make another attempt at reconquering the star system.

Though any reconquest would also require getting past General Drakon and his ground forces. That thought reassured Marphissa quite a bit.

Two and a half days later, Captain Bradamont saw the Midway Offensive Flotilla vanish as it had entered jump space about three hours before. In the seat next to her sat Kapitan Diaz. On most of the warships in Midway’s fleet, she would still be eyed with suspicion and even hatred by many in the crew, but not on Manticore. Bradamont had become theirs, by that odd process of comradeship that forged bonds where none ought to exist. She knew it, too, acting calm and cheerful around the specialists instead of tense as she usually was on other ships.

But Bradamont was all business at the moment. “Assume that they’re going to come,” she warned Diaz.

“The Syndicate or the enigmas?”

“The Syndicate,” she said. “From what we’ve seen of the enigmas, they focus on one objective at a time. Right now, that would be Iwa. Once they have that installation working they’ll be able to bring in warships. I warned Kommodor Marphissa to expect enigma ships to conduct reconnaissance of Iwa so they’ll know if humans try to retake the star system. Hopefully, she’ll have finished with Imallye before any more enigmas show up. So what we have to worry about is Syndicate Worlds attacks coming in either through the hypernet gate or one of the jump points from stars they still control. I would advise telling Kapitan Stein to patrol closer to the hypernet gate so she can intercept whatever comes out of it faster.”

“And if the enigmas do show up?” Diaz asked, then answered his own question. “I can’t defend every possible entry into this star system with the warships I have. I have to prioritize. That’s what you mean? So if Kapitan Stein takes Gryphon and her other ships nearer the hypernet gate, where should I prioritize do you think?”

“In my experience fighting the Syndics—Damn, sorry, I mean the Syndicate Worlds,” Bradamont corrected herself, angry that she kept slipping up by using the insult when talking to the people it had once been aimed at, “they tended to keep using the same lines of attack.”

“That’s so,” Diaz agreed, showing no sign of offense at Bradamont’s gaffe. “It wasn’t official doctrine, but in practice we would often be ordered to repeat attacks using the same approach and tactics. Syndicate CEOs think that if they make you do the same thing over and over, sooner or later the results will be different.”

“Then would the next Syndicate assault come through the jump point from Lono?”

“Very likely,” Diaz said. “Not just because of pursuing the same approach, but because the Syndicate can route forces to Lono through Milu Star System. That’s a pretty easy hop from the hypernet gate at Rota Star System. I could have figured all of that out by myself, couldn’t I?”

“You could have,” Bradamont agreed. “All I did was walk you through the steps to get there so you’ll know how to work it out by yourself next time.”

That’s what she was supposed to be doing, preparing these people to stand on their own once the orders Admiral Geary had given her were changed and she was ordered to return to Alliance space. Bradamont had no doubt that would happen sooner or later, and little doubt that when she got back to the Alliance whoever had threatened to blackmail her would once again threaten her. She had never been a spy for the Syndicate Worlds, never wavered in her loyalty to the Alliance, but the Alliance’s own intelligence services had ordered her to play at that in hopes of using her relationship with Rogero to get secrets from the Syndicate. And the relationship with Donal Rogero had always been true, even if neither of them had ever expected any opportunity to pursue it.

She had given her adult life to serving the Alliance, and had fought hard on its behalf. Once, there had only been two real options, either the Alliance or the Syndicate Worlds, and Bradamont would never have turned to the enemy. But now there was Midway, which had been the enemy but was now working very hard to become something much more like the Alliance. Midway, which had good leaders, citizens happy with those leaders, men and women willing to fight for their freedom, and Donal Rogero. The taint of the Syndicate Worlds would take a long time to fade, but these people were trying. They were already partners of the Alliance in every way that mattered.

Could she go home when ordered, pursuing the same paths that duty had once demanded?

She still wore the uniform of the Alliance, but her loyalties were shifting. Not against the Alliance, but to include something else as well.

Jump space should have been tailor-made for meditation, Asima Marphissa thought. However wide across jump space was, the entirety of it was composed of gray nothingness. No human had ever detected anything else. In jump space, there was no external world to distract the senses.

There were the mysterious lights that came and went without any detectable pattern. The lights would flare into existence amid the gray nothing, then fade again. Human instruments could detect the visual light coming off them, but nothing else, no heat or radiation or other hint as to what caused the lights.

Marphissa had heard from Bradamont that Alliance sailors considered the lights to have religious meaning. The Syndicate, of course, had no use for metaphysics, so the Syndicate had officially declared the lights to be just illusions created by human senses.

Marphissa sat in her stateroom aboard the battle cruiser Pele, watching her display where the outside view showed grayness and the occasional flare of a light that could be a million light years away or within touching distance. No one knew. All she knew for certain was that the view of jump space brought with it no sense of peace or harmony.

Her living area aboard Pele was a ridiculously large and well-appointed stateroom intended for someone of CEO rank. Marphissa, rapidly promoted from a midgrade executive rank, thought it far too pretentious. She thought she had grown accustomed to her rank as Kommodor, but that had been mostly within the confines of the heavy cruiser Manticore. Nothing aboard Manticore had this much luxury to it. She felt out of place.

Maybe her discomfort wasn’t rooted in the fact that jump space made humans increasingly uncomfortable and uneasy as days went by. Maybe it was because she still did not feel qualified for her responsibilities. The fate of Midway Star System rested in her hands. It was not a comfortable feeling, no matter what kind of stateroom she might be occupying or what kind of space existed outside the hull of this battle cruiser.

“Kommodor.” The image of Kapitan Kontos appeared next to her display. “I wish to inform you that we will leave jump space in one hour. My ship will be at full combat readiness when we arrive at Iwa, per your instructions.”

Marphissa tried to rouse herself from her reverie. “Thank you, Kapitan. I will be on the bridge in one half hour.”

“Yes, Kommodor. I am sorry to have disturbed your planning for our actions upon arrival.”

She couldn’t help smiling at that. “All you disturbed, Kapitan, was my attempt to understand something.”

“Something related to this battle cruiser?” Kontos asked.

“No. Something related to us. To humans.” Marphissa took another glance at the outside display as another mysterious light bloomed. “Why is it, Kapitan, that no matter how long the journeys we humans take, no matter how strange the places we go, we always manage to take all of our baggage along with us?”

Kontos looked baffled, then his expression cleared. “You mean emotional baggage. Even the Syndicate never figured out a system inefficient enough to allow us to lose that in transit!”

“Well, I fully intend losing some of mine at Iwa,” Marphissa said. “I’m going to unload it on whatever is waiting for us there.”

A half hour later she was on the bridge, waiting through the final minutes before arriving at Iwa.

Marphissa had expected to find at Iwa Star System either a flotilla of Granaile Imallye’s warships laying claim to the star, or a force of enigma warships ready to defend their own possession of the star.

But as she shook off the mind-blurring effects of leaving jump space, Marphissa saw something else on her display, which was rapidly updating as the sensors on Pele and the other Midway warships tried to spot every change at Iwa since Manticore had left.

“Syndicate,” Kontos commented in wondering tones. “They didn’t care enough about Iwa to defend it when they controlled it, but now that they’ve lost it, they want it back.”

“Apparently they do,” Marphissa agreed. “And that is just like the Syndicate. The bureaucracy screws up and then they send citizens like you and me out to fix things.”

The Syndicate flotilla, which was about three light hours from the newly arrived Midway flotilla and barely twenty light minutes from the formerly inhabited world that was now the site of the hidden enigma base, contained an impressive mix of warships for the overextended Syndicate. Two battle cruisers, five heavy cruisers, a light cruiser, and nearly twenty Hunter-Killers, plus three troop carriers and four freighters.

“Kapitan Kontos, the Syndicate flotilla came in from Palau Star System,” the senior watch specialist on Pele’s bridge announced. “Their vectors track right back to that jump point.”

“Why so much for Iwa?” Marphissa wondered. Before Kontos could reply, a call came from Iceni. “We have company, Madam President.”

“Yes,” Iceni said, looking unruffled by the unexpected development. “I doubt this was originally intended for Iwa. The Syndicate was probably marshaling forces at Palau to strike at either Midway or at stars controlled by Imallye’s forces. They might have even come here along a planned attack route to hit either Midway or Moorea, but are now moving to reestablish a Syndicate base on that planet.”

“How would they know about the underground enigma base there?” Marphissa asked. “Our sensors have been studying the planet and we can’t detect anything now even though we know where it is.”

“I seriously doubt that the Syndicate forces know about the alien facility,” Iceni said.

“Kommodor?” Kontos interrupted. “The Syndicate flotilla is maneuvering. It can’t be in response to us. They won’t see us for another two and a half hours.”

Both Marphissa and Iceni fell silent as everyone waited to see what the Syndicate forces had done. “They’re coming around hard,” Marphissa finally murmured.

“Maximum push on their thrusters,” Kontos agreed. “They must have seen something that we haven’t yet.”

“The Syndicate flotilla is accelerating at the maximum rate the freighters with it can manage,” the senior watch specialist advised.

“Heading back toward the jump point for Palau,” Kontos said. “Something scared them. Imallye?”

“I hope not,” Iceni said. “If Imallye has brought a big enough force to Iwa to scare a flotilla of that size, we’re going to have some trouble dealing with it ourselves.”

The image of Kapitan Mercia appeared beside that of President Iceni. “If the Syndicate flotilla had seen some force of Imallye’s arriving from Moorea, then we should have seen it by now as well. Whatever they saw is way on the far side of the star system from us.”

Kontos sucked in a sudden breath. “The enigmas. The jump point we saw that ship of theirs using is over there.”

Marphissa quickly ran some data through her display, using one hand to draw vectors through the images of planets and ships. “If the enigmas have come in at the same place you saw that one ship…” She shook her head. “The Syndicate battle cruisers can outrun them and jump back to Palau. The others won’t make it.”

“Are we close enough to intervene?” Iceni asked. She paused for a moment to let her words sink in before adding more. “They may be Syndicate, but they’re people like us, or like we used to be.”

Kontos nodded, smiling. “If we can hit the enigmas while they are engaging the Syndicate flotilla, we might be able to inflict enough damage to ensure victory.”

“See if we can do it,” Marphissa said.

“Kommodor?” The senior watch specialist gestured toward her display. “The Syndicate flotilla changed vector again.”

Everyone focused on their displays, waiting to see what the Syndicate flotilla had done hours before. “They’re coming back around,” Mercia said, puzzled.

“Back onto their original vectors,” Kontos confirmed. “They are heading for the planet again.”

Marphissa felt a heaviness inside. “The CEO commanding that flotilla did the math. They know the troop transports can’t get away, so they’re going to land the ground forces on the planet to give them a chance.”

“And the battle cruisers will stay with their comrades and fight the enigmas together.” Kontos was smiling again, his enthusiasm and admiration for the Syndicate flotilla’s actions obvious. “Kommodor, we must help them.”

“They are still the enemy,” Marphissa reminded him. “As much as a quarter of the men and women aboard those units may be snakes. Remember what Syndicate mobile forces did to Kane.”

“I have not forgotten,” Kontos said, the smile and admiration disappearing from his face. “But, still, in this they are doing the right thing.”

“They are,” Marphissa conceded. “I would like to know why the snakes are permitting it. Work up a vector toward that planet. We don’t know yet where the Syndicate ships will go once they have dropped off the ground forces, so we will head for that world so we can also drop off our ground forces before proceeding into battle with the enigmas.” She would have to call Colonel Rogero and tell him that, and did not for a moment imagine that he would be thrilled by the news.

“Here is your vector, Kommodor,” Kontos said a few seconds later. “Assuming you wish to limit our velocity to point two light speed?”

She felt an urge to check with Iceni, but decided this was as good a time as any to see if the president had meant it when she granted Marphissa full control over the mobile forces. “Yes. I don’t want to go any faster until I know more about what the enigmas are doing. We should see them within a couple more hours and at least be able to tell if they were also heading straight for that planet as of several hours ago.”

Marphissa forced herself to study Kontos’s proposed vector, taking her time to look it over. The urge to act quickly, to maneuver now, was a human one, but very mistaken in space. Just because you could see the enemy did not mean that the enemy was a threat. In fact, the enemy might be days away from being able to engage your forces. But still the instincts passed down to Marphissa from primitive humans hunting on the plains and forests and tundra of Old Earth insisted that she must act immediately against an enemy that could be seen.

“Good,” she finally said. “All units in Midway Offensive Flotilla, immediate execute, come starboard five seven degrees, down zero six degrees, accelerate to point two light speed.”

Pele swung around under the push of her thrusters, nimble and fast, then waited as the other warships matched the movement. The HuKs and the light cruisers moved almost as quickly as the battle cruiser, the heavy cruisers were noticeably slower, the troop transports were about as agile as the heavy cruisers, and the battleship Midway’s thrusters brought the vast mass of that warship around with ponderous deliberation.

With everyone lined up in the right direction and main propulsion lit off on every warship, Pele and the other warships keeping their acceleration slow enough to match that of Midway, the flotilla dove into Iwa Star System, heading for the orbit of the planet where humans and enigmas would soon clash again to determine the fate of everyone in this region of space.