Shattered Spear

Chapter Two

General Artur Drakon, formerly a CEO in the Syndicate Worlds, watched President Gwen Iceni, also formerly a CEO of the Syndicate Worlds, pacing across the width of her office. One wall of the office appeared to be a vast window looking out on a beach, and Iceni would pause each time she reached that view to gaze at the waves for a moment before turning and pacing back in the other direction. In fact, the office was underground, buried behind layers of armor. Syndicate CEOs took for granted that many enemies would be happy to kill them if the opportunity presented itself, and some of those enemies might well be coworkers and co-CEOs.

“What the hell do I do about this?” Iceni demanded. “How did those Dancers get to Kane? How did they get beyond Kane without passing through Midway after coming in through the jump point from Pele?” Pele had been taken by the enigmas a generation ago, and Black Jack’s fleet had been the only human presence to visit that star since then. “We have the only jump point in human space the alien races can access.”

Drakon sat relaxed in a chair, watching Iceni. Even at times like this he liked watching her walk, because there was an assurance and a grace to Iceni’s stride that naturally generated confidence. “They must have a way of getting to other jump points.”

“That is impossible, Artur,” Iceni insisted, softening her dismissal of his words by using his first name.

“Is there another explanation, Gwen?” he asked, doing the same to avoid seeming to confront her reasoning. “As far as we know, it’s impossible for the Dancers to access other jump points in human space. But here they are, and they didn’t come through the jump point from Pele.”

Iceni stopped, gazing toward the image of the beach where the waves constantly rose and receded on the sand. “Yes. It’s impossible for us. We have little idea of what the Dancers could do.”

“Do you think Black Jack would have told us if he knew the Dancers could do that?” Drakon asked.

“I don’t know. I think so. He would know how that knowledge would complicate our defense of this region of space against the enigmas. Because if the Dancers could jump to other stars, then the enigmas might also—” She broke off, turning her head to stare at Drakon. “Watch different stars. Are the Dancers telling us that the enigmas might attack somewhere other than Midway?”

“I hope not,” Drakon said. “Am I right that our warships are barely adequate to defend Midway itself?”

“Our warships are not nearly enough to be sure of defending Midway,” Iceni replied, her voice sharp with anxiety. “Especially when we have to worry about the Syndicate Worlds making another attack on us as well. The Syndicate won’t give up just because we’ve beaten them badly at Ulindi.”

The comm alert on Iceni’s desk buzzed urgently. She tapped a control. “Yes?”

The image of a watch-stander at the planetary command center appeared before her. “Madam President, we have just seen that Pele and HTTU 458 have returned through the jump point to Iwa. Kapitan Kontos reports a successful completion of his mission. He attached to his arrival report a special annex for your eyes only.”

“Send it on,” Iceni said, then waited a second for the image of Kontos to replace that of the watch-stander. She listened to the brief report of events at Iwa, her expression not betraying her reaction, then looked at Drakon. “An enigma ship detection at Iwa. It looks like you guessed right.”

Drakon grimaced, automatically mentally running through options. “I wish I hadn’t been right. We could take Iwa easily enough. A single company of Syndicate ground forces wouldn’t last five seconds against a battalion of my soldiers, even if the Syndicate ground forces put up a decent fight, which I wouldn’t do if I were in their position. But how could we afford to position enough of our warships at Iwa to stop an enigma attack and also provide protection to Midway?”

Iceni called up a display showing the nearby stars, the images floating near her desk. “You have much more military experience than I do. If you were the enigmas, what would you do?”

Drakon studied the stars, rubbing his chin as he thought and not liking what his conclusions were. “If I were an enigma? It would depend how much I knew about what was available to humans to defend Midway and Iwa. How much do the enigmas know?”

“We’ve had obvious reconnaissance visits,” Iceni said, gesturing toward the symbol for the jump point at which ships coming from Pele would arrive. “A single enigma ship jumps in, collects a snapshot of everything that can be seen in this star system, then jumps out within less than a minute. That detection at Iwa could have been the same thing.” She brightened. “And they happened to stop by while there was a battle cruiser at Iwa, and a troop transport that for all the enigmas knew could be bringing reinforcements for the garrison.”

“What if the enigmas recognized the ships as ours and the ownership of Iwa as still Midway’s?” Drakon asked, not willing to make an overly optimistic assessment.

Iceni narrowed her eyes at the display. “It would look like an invasion force, wouldn’t it?” she said. “The enigmas would probably interpret what they saw as signs that we have already conquered Iwa.” She sighed. “Is that good or bad?”

“In terms of how the enigmas see it?” Drakon asked. “Damned if I know. Assuming the enigmas think we now own Iwa, and assuming they can reach Iwa with an attack, then if I were them I’d try to hit Iwa first. The enigmas can count, and they must know that we don’t have enough warships to garrison both star systems in strength. Take Iwa, where they haven’t been thrown back twice like they have here, then hit Midway again, maybe with forces arriving from both Pele and Iwa.”

She nodded. “If we spread our forces out, we’ll be weak everywhere. But if we concentrate our forces here, the enigmas will walk in and take Iwa whether we own it or not. This stinks.” Iceni looked around, seeking someone, then sat down with another sigh. “I still keep expecting him to be here whenever I need him.”

Drakon fought down a reflexive disquiet and tried to sound neutral as he answered. “Your former assistant?”

“Yes.” From the look Iceni gave him, Drakon hadn’t been nearly good enough at hiding his feelings. “We still don’t know what happened to Mehmet Togo, Artur. Yes, he might have betrayed me then bolted. Or he might have been taken by enemies. We don’t know,” she repeated.

“He wouldn’t have been easy to take,” Drakon said carefully. “Can I ask you something?”

“No.” But then she smiled slightly. “Go ahead.”

“Why don’t you think that I or one of my people took out Togo?”

She took a long moment to answer, her gaze on the beach again. “Because you wouldn’t do that to me. And if one of your people did it… you would have found out and told me.”

Drakon grimaced again, feeling a mix of anger and unhappiness. “You know how badly I misjudged how much I knew about my two closest assistants,” he said.

Iceni nodded, still watching the waves. “Colonel Morgan died on Ulindi.”

“I won’t be sure of that until I see a body, and even then I’ll wonder if she cloned one to cover her going deep without my knowledge. Apparently, you still trust Colonel Malin.”

Another nod. “As much as I trust anyone.” Another pause. “Except you.”

He stared at her, wondering why Iceni had said something that Syndicate CEO training and experience insisted no one should ever say. “Um… in that case… since you need a capable assistant whom you trust, I can lend you Colonel Malin.”

Iceni laughed, turning her head to look at him again. “Make your agent my personal assistant, privy to all my secrets and actions? Exactly how much do you think I trust you?”

“It’s not about that,” Drakon said, wondering if he was telling the truth. “It’s about how much you trust Malin.”

“I see.” Iceni still looked amused. “And with both Colonel Morgan and Colonel Malin gone, who do you have for a personal assistant?”

“Colonel Gozen.”

Iceni’s eyebrows rose. She reached out, tapping a few commands, then read from the data that appeared before her. “Former Syndicate Executive Third Class Celia Gozen? Recently captured at Ulindi?”

“She wasn’t really captured,” Drakon said defensively. “She’s a fine soldier. And she has been extremely well screened, a process overseen by Colonel Malin.”

“I see.” Iceni gave Drakon an arch look. “And how does Colonel Malin feel about the elevation of Colonel Gozen to such a position?”

“He’s unhappy,” Drakon said. “Which is why I know that if he’d found a speck of information indicating that Gozen was problematic he would have pounced on it.”

Iceni leaned forward, resting her elbows on her desk, gazing skeptically at Drakon. “But still, Artur. Someone that new getting that level of trust?”

“I have a gut feeling,” he said, knowing that he sounded even more defensive and hoping that Iceni wouldn’t bring up his misplaced trust in Colonel Morgan.

She did, but not in the way Drakon expected. “Hmmm. Even the very-probably-late Colonel Morgan didn’t betray you in her own eyes. She thought she was helping you. What is it that makes you want Gozen so close to you?”

Drakon shrugged. “She’s… blunt. She’s usually properly respectful, but she has no difficulty telling me when she thinks I’m wrong or that I’ve missed something. And unless I very much have misjudged her, she cares about the people who work for her more than she cares about the ego of her boss. Someone in my position needs someone like that, and people like that are very hard to find.”

Iceni’s eyebrows went up again. “She was still an executive in the Syndicate ground forces? Why hadn’t Gozen already been executed or sent to a labor camp for telling her boss when she thought the boss was wrong?”

“She had a patron.” Drakon waved toward the information Iceni had displayed. “Her uncle, in the same unit. I’m sure you know all about it.”

“Yes.” Iceni rested her chin on her hand as she looked at Drakon. “I also know that you could have raised the same objections when I quickly promoted Kapitan Mercia to command of the Midway, the battleship that is by far our most powerful warship. But you didn’t. You trusted my judgment. So I shall trust yours. I don’t really have any right to pass judgment on your personal staff, so I appreciate your obvious willingness to discuss the matter with me.”

“You’re using that word ‘trust’ an awful lot,” Drakon pointed out, grinning with relief.

“I know. I’m going to turn into some bleeding-heart Alliance officer, aren’t I? Boasting about my honor and proclaiming my virtue over those scum-of-the-earth Syndics.” Iceni looked down for a moment, her expression softening into something like sorrow. “We were, weren’t we? Scum of the earth. The things I did to survive, to reach CEO rank—”

“We both did a lot of things that we don’t like to remember,” Drakon broke in. “We did it to survive, so we could someday do something better. And we are doing something better.”

“Something better, hell. I wanted to be in a position so strong I couldn’t be threatened, and powerful enough that I’d be able to avenge myself on some of those who had harmed me. That’s what it was about, Artur.” She used her arms to lever herself back to her feet. “That’s the past. Today, we have a chance at something better, and a star system to defend. I want a meeting with more minds than yours and mine. Agreed? You, me, Captain Bradamont, your Colonel Malin… and Colonel Gozen. Anyone else?”

“What about your Kommodor?”

Iceni glanced at the display. “Manticore is a light hour from us. Marphissa couldn’t contribute in any meaningful way with that sort of time delay. Midway and Pele are even farther away.” She paused in midturn, shaking her head. “I was about to order Togo to set up the meeting. He was with me for a long time.”

Drakon nodded, standing as well. “I’ll have Gozen set it up. It’ll be a nice test of how well she functions off the battlefield.” His eyes went back to the display as well, focusing on the images of the Dancer ships. He had once heard old legends about certain birds whose arrival was thought to warn of imminent battle or other woes, and he wondered if those battle-scarred alien ships would prove to be such heralds as well.

Gwen Iceni left the protection of her heavily armored VIP limo, moving between twin lines of ground forces soldiers in battle armor who formed nearly solid walls of protection for her. The security measure irked her, so when she reached the door to the meeting facility she paused to look at the female soldier in an obviously new uniform who was standing at attention. “Colonel Gozen?”

“Yes, Madam C—” Gozen bit off the word just a moment too late.

Iceni smiled without any humor. “A lifetime’s habits are not easily forgotten, but you need to work on that. It is Madam President, and I am uncomfortable with a degree of personal security more appropriate to a Syndicate CEO.”

Gozen had the look of someone who had just been told that gravity made things float away. In her experience, of course, CEOs always insisted on every perk they could muster as a means of displaying their importance relative to the citizens and other CEOs. “Ma’am?”

“It’s simple,” Iceni said. “I’m not a Syndicate CEO.” Not anymore, anyway. “I don’t play by Syndicate CEO rules, where the more security you get the more important you must be. I don’t fear the citizens of this world.” She made sure to say that last loudly enough to carry, because every word spoken in public had to be used to reinforce the message Iceni wanted to send. Of course, the statement wasn’t strictly true. Some of those citizens were surely gunning for her, and the enthusiasm of the mob scared her since Iceni knew how easily mobs could shift. But most of the citizens of Midway now appeared to genuinely want her as their leader and were not only willing to follow her lead but happy to do so. “I have my bodyguards. That’s enough.”

Gozen’s eyes went to the heavily armored limo, but she was smart enough not to make any comment about Iceni’s chosen mode of transportation. “I understand and will comply.”

“You’re on exceptionally good behavior today, aren’t you?” Iceni commented in a low voice as she walked past Gozen and into the building where the meeting would take place. There had been a time when she and Drakon would only meet at neutral locations, directly controlled by neither of them, but the time for those games had passed. Especially since the fortified structures that made up Drakon’s headquarters complex offered a comforting sense of security.

Everyone else was already in the conference room. Iceni noticed Gozen avoiding looking at Captain Bradamont, whose Alliance uniform had been a symbol of the enemy for a century, and tried again to get a rise out of her. “You’re not used to this sort of company, Colonel Gozen?”

Gozen gave Iceni a bland look in reply. “I’m still getting my feet under me, Madam President. Thank you for your concern.”

Iceni raised both eyebrows at her. “You are good at borderline insubordination, aren’t you? How did even your uncle manage to keep you out of labor camp?”

“He was an exceptional man,” Gozen said.

“Were you able to find which labor camp he was sent to?” Iceni pressed. “We still have covert contacts within the Syndicate that we might be able to use.”

Gozen shook her head, revealing no emotion as she spoke. “I’m sorry, Madam President, but records that were captured after the fall of Ulindi revealed that my uncle had been summarily executed when the snakes took over command of my old unit.”

Damn. The game of assessing Gozen had just turned dark. That too easily happened when discussing history within the Syndicate. “I’m sorry,” Iceni said.

Her sincerity must have come through, because Gozen let a flash of surprise show, then smiled briefly but genuinely. “Thank you, Madam President.”

Iceni and Drakon took their seats on opposite sides of the table out of habit, Bradamont sitting next to Iceni, Gozen and Malin sitting on either side of Drakon. “I want candid discussion,” Iceni began. “We’re facing some unprecedented issues that require an open exchange of ideas.”

Drakon nodded, then gestured toward Malin. “Before we do anything else, Colonel Malin has something to report.”

Iceni turned a questioning gaze on Malin. As far as she knew, Drakon still wasn’t aware that Malin had been a covert source for her for some time. But Drakon knew that she had more trust in Malin than she did in others. Had Drakon figured out the reasons for that? Assigning Malin to her would limit Malin’s ability to find out what was going on in Drakon’s headquarters. Not that Iceni worried much about that anymore, especially with the fanatical and unpredictable Colonel Morgan out of the picture.

Malin looked as icily correct as usual, sitting straight in his chair, hands clasped before him, speaking with cool dispassion. “Last night there was an explosion in the city.”

Iceni nodded. “Cause unknown, I was told. Possibly organized-crime related. Do you know more about it?”

“Yes, Madam President. I was pursuing a suspect. The suspect realized I was trailing him or her, and attempted to kill me with an explosive planted along their path.”

“I see.” Iceni glanced at Drakon. “I have the impression that Colonel Malin is exceptionally skilled at tracking suspects.” Actually, she knew it for certain, but it wouldn’t do to betray that knowledge.

“He’s very good,” Drakon confirmed.

“Whoever I was tracking was better,” Malin said, still betraying no emotion that would reveal how he felt about that. “That is of particular concern. I only know of two people on Midway who could have moved so stealthily, detected my own pursuit, and nearly taken me out with an ambush. One was Colonel Morgan. It was not her last night. I would have been able to tell.”

“Who is the other?” Iceni asked, feeling her gut tighten because she already knew what the answer must be.

“Your missing personal assistant, Madam President. Mehmet Togo.”

Iceni pondered that information while everyone else waited silently. “How confident are you of that assessment, Colonel Malin?”

“Very confident, Madam President.”

Togo. Apparently alive, apparently free to move about the city. But not in any contact with her, having disappeared just before Midway had almost fallen apart in a burst of attempted assassinations and social disruptions that had almost led to mass rioting. “What was he doing last night?”

“I was unable to determine my quarry’s mission last night, Madam President.”

That was vintage Malin. Confessing freely to his failures as if seeking punishment. “All access codes and security arrangements at my offices have been changed,” Iceni said. “But I know that would not stop Togo. Are you aware, Colonel Malin, that General Drakon has offered your services to me as a personal assistant?”

“Yes, Madam President.”

“If Togo makes it through all of my other security and guards, could you stop him?”

Malin took a moment to answer. “I don’t know. It would be difficult. I would have a chance of success, but I cannot quantify it.”

“He’s the best I have,” Drakon said. “There was only one better.”

“I wouldn’t care to have had Colonel Morgan for a personal assistant,” Iceni said dryly. “I would have been more concerned about any dangers posed by her than about any potential assassins. Colonel Malin, alert all security systems to key on Togo’s characteristics. If there is even a minor percentage match, I want it followed up. Notify all security forces that Togo is no longer classified as missing but as a potential security threat. Initiate mandatory password changes and security upgrades on all systems. If you, Colonel, find any indications of what Mehmet Togo may be up to, I need to know immediately.”

After another brief hesitation, Malin nodded. “Yes, Madam President. I… still assess that Togo is loyal to you, so I have had little success in determining his motives.”

Iceni waved toward Drakon. “Colonel, I have every reason to believe that the late Colonel Morgan was intensely loyal to your general. But some of the actions she took as a result of that loyalty were not in the best interests of your general.”

Malin nodded again, flushing slightly. “I understand, Madam President.”

Everyone else at the table carefully avoided reacting to Iceni’s words.

“Now,” she continued, “there’s the matter of aliens. Captain Bradamont, did Black Jack tell us everything that was known regarding the Dancers and the enigmas?”

Bradamont nodded. “Everything that was known as of that time. I don’t know if anything else has been learned since, but if it was anything critical I’m sure that Admiral Geary would have passed it on during his brief time at Midway last month.”

“He was in a hurry,” Iceni pressed. “You’ve seen copies of the transmissions made during that visit to this star system. What is your impression?”

“I believe,” Bradamont said slowly, “that his primary concern was just as he stated, that the longer his battle cruiser force remained at Midway the more likely that the Syndics, excuse me, the Syndicate Worlds, would block his access to the hypernet gate here, preventing him from quickly getting back to a star system much closer to Alliance space.”

“His primary concern?” Drakon asked.

“Yes, sir. I had the impression that he also wanted to get back to Alliance space as fast as possible for other reasons, but I could only speculate as to those.”

“Please do,” Iceni said.

Bradamont looked uncomfortable. “Internal issues. Alliance politics. Possible power struggles. I don’t know. But he didn’t recall me. Admiral Geary left me here to continue assisting Midway in any way I can. That at least means his wishes continue to have weight.”

“Weight?” Iceni asked. “You still maintain that Black Jack is not directly ruling the Alliance?”

“I am certain that he is not,” Bradamont said firmly. “He swore an oath to the Alliance. He gave his word of honor.”

Iceni barely stopped herself from a reflexive rolling of her eyes, and could see the other former Syndicate citizens at the table also having trouble suppressing their reactions.

Surprisingly, it was Gozen who spoke up. “That might mean something,” she offered. “It’s Black Jack. He doesn’t lie. The Syndicate does all it can to keep people from hearing anything, but in the ranks everybody knew what he’d done.”

“Besides,” Drakon added, “Black Jack wouldn’t have had any reason to withhold critical information from us. He knows we’re the front line against the enigmas.”

Iceni made a casting-away gesture with one hand. “True enough, but if Black Jack is tied up with events in Alliance space, he’s not going to be back here in force anytime soon.” A sudden thought came to her. “Those damaged Dancer ships. Could they have acquired that damage fighting a battle in Alliance space?”

“Black Jack against somebody else inside the Alliance?” Drakon asked. “Why would the Dancers help Black Jack in some internal fight?”

“They would if it involved something they cared about, and they seem to care about Black Jack,” Iceni said. She noticed that Bradamont, normally as composed as only a veteran battle cruiser commander could be, looked unusually rattled by the turn in the conversation. “Yes, Captain?”

“I… just…” Bradamont swallowed and regained her composure. “It could mean some kind of civil war within the Alliance. That’s difficult to think about.”

“But it is possible?” Iceni asked. “We’ve been living with various forms of rebellion inside Syndicate space for some time.”

“No, that’s not the same thing,” Bradamont insisted. “The Syndicate Worlds does not allow star systems to leave. You have to fight your way free. But if the people of a star system wanted to leave the Alliance, they would be allowed to go. They wouldn’t have to go to war.”

“Have any star systems ever actually left the Alliance?” Drakon asked.

“A couple. Usually not, though, because they know they can leave if they really want to, and that makes it easier to compromise. And both the Callas Republic and the Rift Federation have distanced themselves from the Alliance since the war ended, though neither has completely severed ties as far as I know.” Bradamont looked around at the others. “I can tell that you don’t believe me.”

Malin answered, his eyes hooded in thought. “It does make sense. If you hold a leash very tightly, the leashed animal will fight against it. As we have against the Syndicate. If you let go the leash, the animal will run. But if you give the animal slack, let it move about, it will not see the need to fight or run. You can work together.”

“Nice comparison, Colonel,” Drakon said dryly.

“It’s important, General,” Malin said. “I know that you and President Iceni are still discussing a grouping of star systems. Perhaps we should make that a principle of such an association.”

“We have other principles,” Bradamont cautioned. “In order to remain within the Alliance, star systems have to abide by basic rules of human rights, and freedom, and representative government. If they break those rules, the Alliance can intervene on behalf of the people. It is rare, but it has happened.”

“A leash still implies control,” Iceni said. “We will have to handle diplomacy with other star systems very carefully to ensure our offered hand is not perceived to be holding a chain. If they get that impression of us, we’ll never be able to depend upon them. We certainly do not have the means to force them to do as we want for extended periods. They might agree under conditions of a major threat like our battleship, but would balk the moment the battleship went elsewhere.”

She called up a display over the table, the stars in this region of space winking into life in front of everyone. “All right. We have already sent messages to the Dancers asking for more information. From what we know, and from what Captain Bradamont has told us, it is unlikely that the Dancers will elaborate. But the mere presence of the Dancers here, along with the detection of an enigma reconnaissance ship at Iwa and the warning message the Dancers have twice given us, makes it look very much as if the enigmas will be able to attack other human-occupied star systems. What do we do about it?”

“There have been no reports from other nearby star systems of enigma ship detections?” Bradamont asked.

“Nothing from Taroa or Ulindi,” Colonel Malin said. “Those two star systems, along with Iwa, are the closest star systems accessible to the enigmas.”

“But Taroa and Ulindi are a bit farther away,” Iceni noted.

“From enigma territory to Iwa slightly exceeds the maximum we could manage with Alliance jump drives,” Bradamont said. “But it’s close. If the jump drives of the enigmas are similar to ours, they wouldn’t need a major breakthrough to manage that jump.”

“But there isn’t any jump point where that enigma ship arrived at Iwa.”

Bradamont frowned, her eyes on the stars floating above the table. “The methods we use to spot jump points are derived from the jump drives. Our sensors, and I assume Syndicate Worlds sensors, basically find any jump point that our jump drives can access. If the enigmas have tweaked the jump drives in a way that makes them more… sensitive? Effective? They might be able to spot jump points they can use but we cannot.”

“I like rational explanations,” Iceni said. “So, for the time being, assume the threat is confined to Midway and Iwa, but might expand to cover Ulindi and Taroa. Recommendations?”

“We must take Iwa,” Malin said.

“Iwa isn’t worth taking,” Drakon groused.

“But if the enigmas turn it into a base, establish a foothold there—”

“What does the Syndicate Worlds have on the other side of Iwa?” Bradamont asked.

“Not much,” Malin replied. “They have a shaky hold on Palau and Moorea Star Systems. We have information that Moorea may have already left Syndicate control.”

“They’ve declared independence?” Bradamont asked.

“No. We have not been able to confirm it yet, but it appears Moorea has been conquered by forces loyal to Granaile Imallye, who may be a warlord, or a pirate with a large appetite. Moorea would be the third star system that she has seized control over.”

“What does she title herself?” Iceni asked. “You can tell a lot about someone’s intentions by the titles they assume.”

“She uses no title,” Malin said. “She is just known as Granaile Imallye.”

“That does not give me a warm and fuzzy,” Bradamont commented. “Someone who doesn’t think they even need a rank or title to command is someone with a lot of confidence in themselves.”

“And a bit of an enigma as well, in the human sense of the term,” Iceni said. “But I don’t see any alternative to making direct contact with this Imallye and finding out her intentions. If the enigmas establish a presence at Iwa, and her forces are at Moorea, she’s going to end up fighting the enigmas, too, and perhaps soon.”

“I agree,” Drakon said. “We don’t have to like Imallye, but we can’t afford to be fighting her and the enigmas and the Syndicate. We have to find out if we can live with her, or if we’re going to have to get rid of her.”

“The Syndicate will take a while to recover from its losses at Ulindi,” Malin said.

“I agree with that,” Gozen said. “My old unit was the strongest Syndicate ground force in the region. Add in the warships that were lost and the troop transports that were captured, and the Syndicate took a big hit.”

“Don’t underestimate them,” Iceni said. “The Syndicate still controls a lot of star systems with a lot of resources. Even if they can’t overwhelm us at the moment, they probably have the means to push us hard. We need to send a ship to contact Imallye, and if I weren’t worried about attacks on Midway by either the Syndicate or the enigmas I would send Midway or Pele. But I want both of those warships on hand. I can’t spare a heavy cruiser, either, but I’ll have to. I don’t want an official contact with this pirate queen or warlord or supreme dictator to be in anything smaller than a heavy cruiser.”

“You’ll need a high-ranking representative aboard the heavy cruiser,” Bradamont cautioned. “Imallye will more likely react positively to contact with a senior official than if someone of lower rank is sent.”

Iceni glared up at the stars in the display. “Which means Kommodor Marphissa, doesn’t it? Damn. I can’t afford to have her gone, either!”

“You have some good commanders in Kapitan Mercia and Kapitan Kontos,” Bradamont said.

“Neither of whom has decent experience in commanding formations of warships!” Iceni fixed her gaze on Bradamont. “But you do.”

Bradamont shook her head. “I’m not supposed to get directly involved in combat—”

“Oh, hell, Captain! You’re here to keep Midway from falling to the Syndicate or to the enigmas!”

“My orders—”

“And if Midway falls to either you know what will happen to Colonel Rogero! He will die heroically, I have no doubt. But he will die. And so would you. Is that really what Black Jack would want?”

Bradamont stared fixedly at the display for several seconds. “I am allowed to use my discretion in emergencies,” she finally said.

“Good.” Iceni nodded as if the matter was settled. “Then you will go aboard Midway or Pele, at your discretion, and if we are attacked you will assume overall command of our warships.”

Gozen was staring at everyone else. “You’re seriously talking about giving command of almost all of your mobile forces to an Alliance officer?”

The laughter from Drakon momentarily shocked everyone. “Yeah,” he said. “We are. Can you imagine this a year ago?”

“A lot has happened,” Iceni said, smiling thinly in response.

“Hell, yeah, a lot has happened.” Drakon looked at Gozen. “Colonel, this Alliance officer is Black Jack’s. As crazy as it sounds, she is the best choice for that assignment. We’re not Syndicate anymore. Our warship crews respect Captain Bradamont.”

“Not all of them,” Bradamont muttered. “I’ll need to take my bodyguards along if I’m going to be riding Midway or Pele,” she added in a normal voice.

Gozen smiled in turn. “Taking your bodyguards everywhere? So you’ve become a little bit Syndicate yourself?”

“Please do not say that.”

A week later, the war-damaged Dancer warships having crossed the star system and jumped for Pele without ever disclosing where they had been or whom they had fought, Kommodor Marphissa sat on the bridge of the heavy cruiser Manticore as the warship approached the jump point for Iwa. Beside her was Kapitan Diaz, who was frowning with clear unhappiness. “Kommodor,” he asked in a low voice, “what if the enigmas have already taken Iwa?”

“Then I am to evaluate the situation and either continue on to Moorea,” Marphissa answered, “or return immediately to Midway.”

“The president gave you that much discretion?” Diaz said, surprised.

“She did. We’re not working for the Syndicate anymore.”

“That never would have happened if we were,” Diaz agreed. “But what if the enigmas have already mined the jump point we’ll arrive at, or have some of their warships stationed at it to catch any human ship that arrives?”

Marphissa smiled humorlessly. “In that case, Kapitan, you are to avoid hitting any of the mines, and avoid being hit by any enigma weaponry, until this ship jumps back for Midway.”

Diaz stared, then grinned. “Now that sounds like a Syndicate order!”

“Bite your tongue, Kapitan. You may jump for Iwa.”

But Marphissa, despite the banter with Diaz, could not help a jolt of anxiety as the stars vanished and were replaced by the dull gray nothingness of jump space. Orders that left her the freedom to decide what to do also meant they left her the freedom to make the wrong choices. And if the enigmas were at Iwa when Manticore arrived, even one wrong choice might be one mistake too many.