Tarnished Knight

Chapter Thirteen

“Accelerating and vectoring away from the planet,” Marphissa commented after watching for a few minutes.

“What about shuttle activity to them?” Iceni asked. “There wasn’t any alert on that before they started moving.”

“There have been a lot of shuttle runs to those units ever since they achieved orbit. The half hour before they started moving had plenty, but not an unusual amount compared to the hours before that.”

All they could do was sit and watch until the one light cruiser and two HuKs still controlled by the snakes settled out on a clear vector. The bent cone indicating possible courses kept narrowing until it formed a single curving line heading past the star and outward. “The jump point for Kukai,” the maneuvering specialist announced.

“That was their only other choice unless they wanted to go to Midway,” Marphissa noted, “but they are leaving the star system.”

“Make sure,” Iceni said, “that our detached flotilla—”

She stopped speaking as an alert sounded, and new symbols flashed on the display.

“They’ve launched bombardment projectiles,” the combat specialist said in a hushed voice.

Damn. How many projectiles did those three units have on board? Enough to devastate the second planet?

“They’re headed… outward,” the combat specialist reported, his voice reflecting bafflement.

“What?” Iceni leaned closer to her display as if that might provide more detail. “They can’t hit the battleship from where they’re firing. Not with unguided projectiles that would have to whip around the gas giant in a partial orbit before impact.”

“That is correct, Madam President, but the projectiles are heading toward the gas giant.”

Marphissa spread her hands in bafflement, eyes fixed on her own display. “How long until we can figure out what they’re aiming at?”

“Maybe half an hour, Kommodor.” The combat specialist hesitated. “They must know that trying to hit any mobile unit with kinetic rounds fired from that distance is hopeless.”

“And yet they launched them in this direction.”

“Yes, Kommodor, but there is one thing near here, one thing orbiting the gas giant, which is not a mobile unit.”

An angry sound came from Marphissa. “The mobile forces facility. But why don’t they want to preserve that intact in the expectation that they’ll control it again when the Syndicate Worlds sends new forces here?”

“Excuse me, Kommodor, but the facility isn’t intact. It was badly damaged during the fighting to control it. We don’t know how badly, but we know the main dock has been destroyed. That explosion must have torn apart most of the shipyard capabilities on the facility.”

Marphissa turned to Iceni. “The facility is no longer very useful, and the snakes know that the workers’ committee took it over. They’re sending the strongest possible message to this star system by smashing that facility. What do we do?”

“Why do we have to do anything?” Iceni asked. “The citizens on the mobile forces facility will see the projectiles coming and they’ll evacuate.”

“Yes, Madam President. The only mobile unit at the facility was destroyed in the internal fighting, and we destroyed the freighter on its way here with snake reinforcements. They’ll have to evacuate in any surviving tugs and escape pods, which are certain to be overloaded.”

Oh. Iceni judged the distances involved to reaching safety. “That will be pushing the capabilities of the pods, and probably the tugs.”

“We could detach a few of our—”

“No.” She might not want the workers’ committee and their fellow radicalized workers to suffocate in the cold dark, but that didn’t mean she wanted them spreading poison to her crews. “What about that merchant?” She pointed to her display, centering it on one of the merchant ships that had arrived since the fighting or left the second planet, crossing the star system on their way to one or the other of the two jump points that were all Kane had. Prudence might have dictated postponing any voyages, but in the Syndicate Worlds caution alone wasn’t accepted as an excuse for failure to carry out ordered tasks. Schedules must be met. As soon as the combat between the flotillas ended, merchant ships had gotten under way. One of those merchant ships was only ten light-minutes from the gas giant though already past the planet’s orbit and heading outward.

“Should I contact them?” Marphissa asked.

“No, I’ll do it.” Composing herself, Iceni tapped her controls. “Merchant ship SWCC-10735, this is President Iceni. The citizens on the mobile forces facility orbiting the fourth planet will soon be forced to evacuate. You are to alter course toward that facility, rendezvous with the tugs and escape pods from that facility, and take the citizens in them safely to the second planet before proceeding on your business. Acknowledge receipt of this message and understanding of your orders. For the people, Iceni, out.” Short and to the point. There should be no room for misunderstanding.

But a reply would take about twenty minutes. Ten minutes to get there and ten to get back.

The battleship and two heavy cruisers had finally finished swinging completely about and were slowing again under the thrust of the cruisers’ propulsion units when the reply came.

“This is Senior Ship’s Controller Hafely.” Hafely had the fixed expression characteristic of those executives who couldn’t conceive of doing anything contrary to directions. In Iceni’s experience, most executives like that couldn’t do anything without clear and detailed directions, either. “My ship is owned and operated by the Yegans Syndicate. I am under orders from my Syndicate not to deviate from my assigned transport movements except as required by authorities of the Syndicate Worlds or if threatened by Alliance raiders. I am continuing on my movements as scheduled by my Syndicate.”

“Not even a courteous sign-off at the end,” Iceni commented.

“Madam President,” Marphissa said, looking and sounding angry, “should I take appropriate action?”

“Oh, no, Kommodor. I want to respond to this individual personally. He needs to be motivated.” Another moment to prepare, then Iceni hit the transmit command once more and began speaking in a calm voice. “Senior Ship’s Controller Hafely, this is President Iceni of the independent Midway Star System. You seem to be under the mistaken impression that I care about your orders from the Yegans Syndicate. You also seem to think that you are not required to obey my orders. I will say this once, Senior Ship’s Controller Hafely. Listen carefully.”

Her voice had hardened and deepened, lowering slightly in volume. “I am in command of three heavy cruisers, six light cruisers, and eight Hunter-Killers. Any one of those units is capable of totally destroying your ship. If I do not as soon as possible receive an acknowledgment of your orders from me to assist the evacuees from the mobile forces facility, as well as your intent to obey those orders, and see your ship begin to carry out those orders, I will send one of my light cruisers to intercept your ship and obliterate it. But that cruiser will be under orders to attempt to ensure that you personally survive the destruction of your ship, so that you can be placed in an escape pod that will be launched on a vector that ensures it cannot be reached by anyone before its life support gives out.

“You have one remaining chance to get this right, Senior Ship’s Controller Hafely. You should be extremely grateful that I am giving you that chance rather than immediately ordering your execution for disrespect toward me.”

Her voice returned to calmness. “For the people, Iceni, out.”

Feeling tired, Iceni stood up. “Let me know if we don’t receive a positive reply from Senior Ship’s Controller Hafely within half an hour, and if we don’t see his ship begin to turn around to meet the citizens who evacuate from the facility. As soon as you see the ship begin to move, contact the mobile forces facility and tell them the merchant is coming to pick them up. Am I forgetting anything?”

“How do we ensure that the merchant actually takes them to the second planet?” Marphissa asked. “That might require detaching a warship to shadow the merchant until it gets there.”

She didn’t want to do that. It would tie up a warship for even longer than the commitments she was already dealing with. Iceni pointed at another symbol on the display. “That’s the light cruiser that wanted to go to, where was it, Cadez? Why haven’t they left?”

The comm specialist answered. “I’ve talked to them, Madam President. They have some people on the second planet that they wanted to pick up before they left, so they’ve been waiting around to see if the snakes would leave.”

“Good. Contact that light cruiser, Kommodor Marphissa. Tell them we chased away the snakes from the second planet, and tell them what I’ve ordered the merchant to do.” Iceni paused. Could she just order the light cruiser to do something? They might refuse, and she had no means of catching them to enforce an order. Giving an order you couldn’t enforce was a bad idea. It could make you look very weak, indeed. “Ask them if they will intercept that merchant and escort it to the second planet to ensure that the citizens from the mobile forces facility reach the planet safely.”

It all felt very… humanitarian. Hopefully, no one would interpret that as a sign of weakness in her. She needed the goodwill of whoever ended up ruling this star system and didn’t want to burn any bridges with any factions, that was all. That didn’t mean she would return the battleship, but it did mean issuing a few threats to save a few lives to earn the kind of intangible currency that could purchase important dividends in the future. “I’m going to work in my stateroom for a while.”

As Iceni left the bridge, with every intention of lying down and trying to rest, she noticed out of the corners of her eyes that the specialists all seemed to be happy for some reason.

General Artur Drakon eyed the latest intelligence update sourly. Even a few months ago, intelligence updates had been much, much longer and much simpler. In those days, there had been two categories. The Alliance category contained the latest that had been learned about the enemy’s intentions and capabilities, as well as information about recent Alliance military operations and losses. The best that could be said about that category was that it usually correctly identified the star systems in which combat had taken place. Intentions were never more than a patchwork of guesses, and capabilities rarely showed any changes that mattered. And, of course, the information was time-late, as much as several months late if you were stationed somewhere like Midway far from the border with the Alliance. Even when you were stationed closer to the front, information about other areas where fighting was taking place could be weeks old at best.

The Syndicate Worlds category was almost always shorter, and almost always even less useful. Actual losses of forces or defeats were never accurately reported and had to be teased out through the grapevine and unofficial contacts. Syndicate Worlds’ plans were always subject to deliberate disinformation and sudden, last-minute changes if one influential CEO abruptly lost that influence and their replacement had other plans. And, of course, that was all time-late as well.

Yet everyone of rank was supposed to know what was in the updates, so reading them was mandatory, and in any event they offered important clues as to what your superiors wanted to believe themselves and wanted you to believe.

The intelligence update before Drakon now was far smaller, but with more categories. Midway. Local Star Systems. Syndicate Worlds. Alliance. Other Star Systems. Enigma Race. Much of the information was fragmentary, and the time lags had grown far worse as travel through space once controlled by the Syndicate Worlds had grown more difficult and official networks had collapsed along with Syndicate authority. But at least the information reflected the truth as best they knew it. Or as best Colonel Malin knew it.

Midway. Stable, almost suspiciously so, the citizens enthusiastically embracing the elections for low-level offices. The euphoria from the destruction of the snakes hadn’t faded yet, and the Syndicate Worlds hadn’t yet retaliated. Trade was weaker than it should be, but it had been trending that way for some time. In some ways, the Syndicate Worlds had been unraveling for years and decades under the pressure of the war, maintaining an image of strength thanks to military power that masked the growing hollowness and dissent behind it.

Taroa. Three factions contesting for control. None strong enough to win. Malin had emphasized that. He wanted Drakon to think about it.

Kane. Critically important, but they still knew nothing. Until some ship arrived bearing news from Iceni, all they could do was wonder what she had found there and whether she had succeeded in her mission.

Syndicate Worlds. Very little new. A recently arriving merchant ship had carried a message from CEO Jason Boyens for Iceni, and Malin had already intercepted that long enough to copy the contents. Unfortunately, Boyens didn’t tell them much they didn’t already know. The new government was weak, everyone was struggling for position and influence, and star systems continued to break away from Syndicate Worlds authority. The message had been sent well before news would have reached Prime of the rebellion at Midway, so it offered no clues to reactions by the government.

Enigma race. Nothing to report. If Black Jack’s fleet had stirred them up again, the aliens must still be busy confronting the Alliance.

Other star systems. This one reported in chaos, that one declaring independence under a strong CEO or a group of them, yet another joining a loose conglomeration of other local star systems for protection that the central government could no longer provide. This information was the oldest and most patchy, and so least reliable.

Alliance. Personal briefing required.

“Colonel Malin, I’d like to speak with you.” Drakon wanted until Malin arrived and closed the door behind him. “What’s this item on the Alliance?”

Malin checked the security readouts before replying. “I managed to access some of President Iceni’s personal files, General.”

“That must have been extremely difficult.”

“It was challenging. I couldn’t get to everything, not by a long shot, but I did find the records of her conversations with the Alliance fleet, the ones even the snakes never located.”

Drakon took a moment to contemplate how history, especially his history, would have been different if Malin were working for the snakes. “Do we have copies now?”

“I couldn’t copy them, sir. That would have left clear footprints because they were locked. I recorded a summary of what I saw, though.” Malin brought out his own reader. “What we were told about the conversations between President Iceni and Admiral Geary the first time the Alliance fleet was here, when they defeated the enigma force, seems to have been accurate. President Iceni did not withhold any meaningful details.”

“What about the second time? When President Iceni says she made that deal with Black Jack?”

“I found that, General.” Malin frowned at his reader. “Admiral Geary did not in fact promise to back the actions of President Iceni. What he promised was to assist in protecting this star system against the enigma race. He also promised not to openly repudiate any claims that Iceni made of more extensive promises of protection, but he did not in fact promise or offer such protection.”

“Hah.” Was that good news or bad news? “So President Iceni’s hand isn’t as strong as she’s been claiming. She doesn’t have major backing for anything she does.”

“That’s correct, sir. It increases the threat to this star system because we can’t count on the Alliance fleet actively opposing a Syndicate attack, but it also means that President Iceni needs your backing all that much more.”

“What else did you find?”

“Something odd that I noticed.” Malin’s frown deepened. “I’ve questioned what I think I saw, because it doesn’t make sense, but I am certain of it. In the messages sent by the Alliance fleet in its first visit here, Geary wore the insignia of an Alliance fleet admiral.”

“Is that what he called himself then? We’ve got records of the broadcasts he made to the whole star system and to the enigmas.”

“Yes, General. Fleet Admiral Geary. But in the messages with President Iceni on his latest visit here, I am certain that Geary was wearing the insignia of an admiral.”

That took a moment to sink in. “A regular admiral? A lower rank than he displayed the earlier time? Malin, that doesn’t make any sense at all. Hell, it’s impossible. Who could have busted Black Jack down a rank? He owns the Alliance.”

Malin made a baffled gesture. “I have been trying to come up with an explanation, General.”

“Why would he pretend to have a lower rank now than he did then? Is it some kind of trick?” That was the only reason that offered any hint of sense.

“Perhaps it was related to their mission into enigma space,” Malin suggested. “Something to influence the way the enigmas reacted.”

“Who the hell knows enough about the enigmas to predict how they’d react to anything?” Drakon frowned, trying to rationalize this information, but his thoughts ran in circles, going nowhere. “Did you spot any other discrepancies?”

“None that I noticed.”

“What did President Iceni think the difference in rank meant? Did you find any sign of that?”

“No, sir. She may not have noticed it since Alliance military command issues haven’t been her priority in recent years.”

Why would the man who, by all accounts, controlled the Alliance accept a demotion? It had to be a trick, but who was the trick aimed at? Maybe the enigmas. Or… “Maybe it’s aimed at us. Black Jack must have known that we’d spot the discrepancy sooner or later. Does he want us to think his position is weak? Why? Oh, hell. If we think Black Jack is weaker than he is, then we’ll be more likely to provoke him, to offer him a reason to do what he wants. And we know he wants control of this star system.”

“A way to fool us into demonstrating our true intentions toward him?” Malin said. “That is a possible explanation. Or perhaps Black Jack is just trying to keep us off-balance. I’m not an expert on mobile forces engagements, but the reports that I have seen said that Black Jack is always doing the unexpected, appearing to be doing one thing when he’s actually preparing to do something else.”

“So now he appears to have been demoted from Alliance Fleet Admiral to Alliance Admiral.” Drakon pounded one fist lightly on his desk. “It’s a strategy. We have to figure out the goal of that strategy, but I’d be willing to bet that it’s aimed at tricking us into some misstep.”

“It could be aimed at the Syndicate Worlds government on Prime,” Malin pointed out. “An attempt to fool them into restarting hostilities or simply taking action contrary to the peace agreement. That would give Black Jack the excuse he needed to totally crush them, leaving not even a rump form of the Syndicate Worlds to deal with.”

“And leaving lots of weak star systems to be scooped up into his personal empire.” Drakon nodded. “You might have it, there. And, of course, we’d be one of the first star systems that Black Jack would want to collect. You didn’t spot any other deals with President Iceni? Anything that would mean she intends turning us over to Black Jack’s control?”

“No, sir. I am certain no such agreement exists. I am certain that President Iceni does not have any more trust of the Alliance than you do.”

“What about her trust of Black Jack?”

Malin paused to think. “My impression is that she sees him as a very powerful rival, sir. Much as she does you.”

“She puts me in the same category as Black Jack?” That seemed funny, somehow, being placed alongside someone with as much power and influence as Black Jack. “What about plans to take me down? I assume if you’d found anything like that you would have mentioned it before now.”

“I found no plans,” Malin confirmed. “She is maintaining files on you and your actions, but it seems to be for contingency purposes, in the event she feels she must take action.”

Could he actually trust Iceni? Now that he knew she had, if not lied about, then at least greatly exaggerated the terms of her agreement with Black Jack. And she had withheld some important information about Black Jack, though, as Malin said, that could be because Iceni hadn’t recognized something that was staring her in the face. “Your impression is that President Iceni is not a threat to me at this time.” Drakon made it a statement.

“Yes, sir,” Malin confirmed. “I continue to advise that any action against her would be a mistake.”

“You know Colonel Morgan’s opinion on that.”

“Yes, sir, and you know that I disagree with her in the strongest terms.”

Drakon laughed. “Hell, whenever you and Morgan disagree, it’s always on the strongest terms. See if you can get back into President Iceni’s files and learn more, but be careful to avoid leaving footprints.” The door alarm sounded. “And here’s Colonel Morgan herself.”

“Speak of the devil,” Malin murmured.

Morgan swaggered in, apparently ignoring Malin but not turning her back on him, either. “I just got word that there was a firing squad busy earlier today,” she announced. “Some supervisor from the primary orbital dockyard got severely reprimanded.”

“Who ordered the execution?” Drakon demanded, nettled that something like that had happened without his knowledge.

“Supposedly, the orders came from the President,” Morgan said. “But those orders all came through her goon.”

“That assistant of hers? Togo?”

“Right.” Morgan cocked one questioning eyebrow. “I wonder what we might have found out if we’d had a chance to talk to this supervisor?”

Had that supervisor stumbled across something they weren’t supposed to know? Drakon glared at the situation display. “We know there was a problem with that one heavy cruiser that the President left behind. Was it related to that? What were the charges against this supervisor?”

“Corruption,” Morgan replied. “One of the one-size-fits-all charges. They actually did a show trial, even though that supervisor was too low-ranked for that to make sense. Quick arrest, quick trial, and quick execution. Routine stuff, except for the trial part.”

“Routine for snakes,” Malin said.

“And CEOs who want to remain in power,” Morgan shot back.

“Iceni hasn’t even been here for more than a week,” Drakon said. “I don’t like the idea of this assistant of hers unilaterally ordering executions.” How to get that across to the assistant in the most intimidating way without appearing to elevate the importance of the assistant to that of someone I will deal with directly? “Colonel Morgan, you are to contact this assistant of the President’s directly. Tell him that no further executions are to take place without my specific approval. If I hear of any more such actions, I will take action. Make sure that the assistant is absolutely clear that I mean that.”

“I can do that,” Morgan said with a smile. “Or I can just get rid of the assistant. That’ll send a nice, strong message to his boss and to everyone else.”

“Togo is not an easy target,” Malin cautioned.

“Neither am I. But even I offer myself as a target sometimes, don’t I?” Morgan needled Malin. “General, the President, and everyone else, needs to know who really runs this star system.”

“I appreciate the need to be treated with an appropriate level of respect,” Drakon said. “But I’m not ready to send that strong a message to the President. Does anyone else need reminding of my status?”

“There are some citizens,” Morgan scoffed. “Some of those morons who want to be elected to local councils. There have been statements made in their election materials that deserve some severe reprimands from you.”

“They’re blowing off pressure,” Malin insisted. “It keeps that pressure from building up.”

“Or we can just eliminate the source of the pressure,” Morgan snapped.

“I’m keeping my options open,” Drakon said to stop the latest argument. “From all I see, both I and the President are still regarded by the vast majority of the citizens as the heroes who liberated them from the snakes. If I start offing every citizen who says otherwise, it will dent that image pretty fast. If anyone goes beyond talk, or starts getting too many other citizens listening to them, that will be a different matter.”

“General,” Malin said, “if you held an honest election tomorrow, the citizens would overwhelmingly vote you and President Iceni as their leaders. No one could claim that your power came from any other source but the people themselves.”

“Why the hell would he want to do that?” Morgan demanded. “Why let ‘the people’ believe for one second that they have any right to pass judgment on whether or not General Drakon is in charge?”

Malin pointed upward. “We don’t exist in isolation. There are other powers. We have to worry about them.”

Drakon stared at Malin, as did Morgan. She laughed. “Are you invoking fear of ghosts to back up your arguments now? You’ve been around the workers too long.”

“You could read my statement that way, but you could also take it to mean such things as the Syndicate Worlds,” Malin said coldly. “They haven’t disappeared. We have a pathetically small flotilla to defend ourselves until President Iceni returns. If she has not lost any of the units she took with her, but hasn’t gained a battleship, our flotilla will only be pitifully small. With the battleship, it will still be small. And as we all know, the Syndicate Worlds will not attack only with mobile forces and ground forces. They will try to soften us up by any means, create civil unrest, undermine our strength by sabotage, and use every other trick in the Syndicate book to make us an easier target for reconquest. We know this from the inside. We have played this game ourselves. Mobile forces are not our first line of defense. Nor are ground forces. We need the citizens to believe that this is their star system, that General Drakon and President Iceni are their leaders, that we are the best means to ensure their safety against external forces. And then the citizens will ensure that when our forces defend this star system, they have a firm backing behind them.”

“You ensure a firm back by having a firm spine,” Morgan said.

“Is there anything else?” Drakon said in a voice that instantly silenced the debate. He didn’t feel like going over this again, not when his mind was puzzling over what Black Jack was up to and worried about what might have happened to Iceni.

Malin took a deep breath. “There is one other item I wished to discuss with you, sir. Taroa Star System.”

This time, Morgan rolled her eyes. “Are you going to advise General Drakon to go there and tell everyone at Taroa that they should all just get along?”

“No, I’m going to advise General Drakon to go there with troops and intervene in the fighting.”

Morgan let surprise show for a moment, then grinned. “I want to hear this.”

She hadn’t slept well for days, and the last several hours had been particularly bad. Iceni finally erupted from her stateroom on the heavy cruiser, crew members scrambling to stay out of her way, and stormed up to the bridge. “Why the hell isn’t that battleship ready to move?”

Kommodor Marphissa gulped nervously before she answered. “The engineers and system specialists say one more hour, Madam President.”

“That’s what they said an hour ago!”

“Madam President.”

She spun to see that Sub-Executive Kontos had just entered the bridge as well.

“I was coming to report to you, Madam President,” Kontos said. Though still thin, after rest, food, and water, he no longer wavered as he stood, not even when faced by a CEO on the rampage. “One more hour and no more. I personally guarantee it.”

The already-hushed bridge seemed to grow deathly quiet. Under the Syndicate system, announcements of personal responsibility could presage rewards, but more often foretold serious punishment.

Iceni eyed Kontos. “Are you aware of what happened to the last person who failed to carry out their work as they had promised me, Sub-Executive Kontos?”

“I need not concern myself with that, Madam President. There will be no failure. Battleship B-78 will be ready for movement under its own power in one hour.”

His calm and confidence penetrated even her anger. Either Kontos was very brave and very capable, or he was a total idiot incapable of understanding the fate his own words were creating. “One hour, Sub-Executive Kontos. Or you may find yourself outside without a survival suit trying to push the battleship to the jump point.”

“I understand, Madam President.” Kontos saluted and left.

Her frustration snuffed out by Kontos’s performance, Iceni turned to Marphissa, who was still staring at where Sub-Executive Kontos had stood. “The boy is insane,” Marphissa said.

“Would you want him to be one of your officers, Kommodor?” Iceni asked.

“Absolutely. He would be an incredible asset. If I didn’t have to kill him.”

“Then I’ll let you in on something I just decided. If that battleship is under way in one hour or less, Kontos will be your second-in-command when you assume command of the Midway.”

Marphissa’s shocked gaze switched to Iceni. “Second-in-command? That’s a sub-CEO or senior executive position.”

“He’ll have earned it, don’t you think?”

A pause, then the Kommodor nodded. “Yes. Yes, I do.”

Forty-seven minutes after Kontos had spoken to her, he called Iceni again. “Battleship B-78 is ready to move at your command, Madam President.”

Marphissa, scanning her readouts on the readiness of the battleship, nodded with an amazed look.

Iceni settled back in her seat, looking around the bridge of the heavy cruiser. It felt far less occupied even though every specialist station was in use. With so much of the crew temporarily assigned to working on the battleship, the heavy cruiser had a strange sensation of emptiness. “Ready all units to proceed to the jump point for Midway, Kommodor.”

The heavy cruisers mated to the battleship had been loosed, and the light cruisers and HuKs brought in closer to escort the massive warship. They were finally preparing to get back to Midway, hopefully to depart Kane before any strong Syndicate Worlds force showed up at Kane, and hopefully to arrive back at Midway before any Syndicate Worlds attack showed up there. The propulsion problem with heavy cruiser C-818 had been a blessing in disguise. She hadn’t needed C-818, and its presence back at Midway offered some protection for the star system until she got back.

Far off, the three snake-controlled warships had jumped for Kukai hours ago. Since then, the detached portion of Iceni’s forces that had been shadowing them had turned to rejoin the others. “Tell the subflotilla to alter course to rejoin us just prior to the jump point for Midway,” Iceni told Marphissa.

The merchant ship, with its new cargo of evacuees from the mobile forces facility, still had a way to go before it made it back to the second planet; but the light cruiser bound for its crew’s home had remained with it, ensuring that Senior Ship’s Controller Hafely didn’t try to cut his losses by jettisoning evacuees.

Where the mobile forces facility had been there was now scattered junk, most of the debris having been knocked out of orbit, but some spiraling down into the greedy maw of the gas giant to vanish amid the multicolored clouds.

On the second planet itself, crowds could be seen in the streets, but too little in the way of comms could be picked up from the location of Iceni’s ships to know who was doing what to whom now that the snakes had run for their lives. Did the fires that could be seen in the streets mark celebration, or rioting, or fighting, or all of the above?

“All units,” Marphissa ordered, “come port four three degrees, down zero one degrees, accelerate to point zero three light speed, maintaining station on B-78, execute now.”

They were actually moving again. Iceni realized that she was smiling even though the shape of the gas giant receded with painful slowness beneath them. Only part of the battleship’s main propulsion units were working, enough to get it moving, but it would accelerate even more sluggishly than usual for a battleship, and getting it up to point zero three light speed would take a while. It would also take a while to get to the jump point at that velocity, but at least they were on their way. Feeling happy indeed, Iceni called the battleship. “Sub-Executive Kontos, do you want to take service in the mobile forces of the Midway Star System?”

Kontos grinned. “Yes, Madam President.”

“Then you are promoted to Kapitan-Leytenant, effective immediately, and appointed second-in-command of battleship B-78. Congratulations.”

The next call was to Colonel Rogero. “Are your soldiers enjoying the accommodations aboard B-78, Colonel?”

“Yes, Madam President.” Rogero wasn’t wearing his combat armor, of course, but he still somehow carried the aura of being ready for anything. Iceni found it a dangerously pleasant sensation. “Though in truth there’s so much space, and so few crew,” Rogero added. “It’s a little spooky.”

“Is everything in place?”

“We are ready for anything,” Rogero affirmed.

That was a code phrase, meaning that, if necessary, Rogero’s soldiers would turn on the crew and ensure that the battleship reached Midway. It was ironic, considering her own doubts about Rogero, but she had to count on him to ensure that Kontos or some other members of the battleship’s crew didn’t decide they wanted some other destination.

In truth, some of the delay in the battleship’s being ready had been her own fault. Some of the technicians had covertly installed overrides where overrides were strictly prohibited by Syndicate regulations. Only someone able to get inside the three citadels could have installed the overrides. But now, if anyone chose to try to hole up in those citadels again, Iceni could activate the overrides and quickly gain access to the inside of the three citadels.

Naturally, there was always the chance that the technicians would talk, despite the certainty of what Iceni would do to them if they told anyone. But between fear and the rewards promised for their discretion, the technicians would almost certainly stay quiet. Iceni had long ago learned that, like threats, promises of rewards were best kept. She had once worked for a man who thought the opposite and routinely stiffed his subordinates and workers on things he had pledged for them. Business as usual, until the night an assassin came for that boss, and his guards, employees who had also had promised rewards yanked from them, looked the other way.

She took care of those who worked for her. That was simple self-interest. But even workers who had been treated well could decide to betray those they worked for. Thanks to the heroics of Kontos and the other surviving members of the outfitting crew, she had gained control of this battleship. No one, no matter how heroic, would take that control away from her.

But it was still a long way to the jump point at point zero three light speed.

“Something is happening at Lono,” Colonel Malin reported.

“Dangerous something?” Drakon asked.

“It could be. A merchant ship that came from there said it saw three heavy cruisers and a number of smaller escorts.”

Lono. Only one jump away, with enough firepower mustering there to blow away the single heavy cruiser that Iceni had left at Midway. “Did you find out anything about the HuK that President Iceni sent to Lono?”

“Yes, sir. According to what the merchant ship heard, sometime ago a HuK appeared at the jump point from Midway, took off across the Lono Star System without pausing, and jumped for Milu.”

So much for that HuK. Someone had decided to go home or take other independent action. “What can we get to Lono to confirm what that merchant reported about a flotilla?”

“All we could do is requisition another merchant ship, General.”

Something slow. “We need scouts out, Colonel Malin. How can we get scouts watching the nearest star systems for trouble?”

“It’s a mobile forces issue, General,” Malin said.

“And we’re damned short of mobile forces.”

Malin stiffened as his comm alert sounded and he checked his reader. “A HuK has arrived at the jump point from Kane. There’s a message coming in from it. It’s eyes only for you.”

“Route it to me.” Drakon waited impatiently until the message popped up on his queue, then tagged it.

Iceni smiled triumphantly at him. “I am happy to report that I have defeated a snake-controlled flotilla at Kane and gained control of the battleship being outfitted here. As soon as the battleship is ready to move, we will proceed back to Midway.” Attached to the message were some files listing detailed events.

Drakon scanned the files quickly. “President Iceni hasn’t lost any units. She actually picked up a few more. Plus the battleship.”

“How long until she gets back?” Malin asked.

“She didn’t say. Call that HuK and tell it to divert to the jump point for Lono. The HuK is to pop in, look around Lono, then head back here.” The Syndicate flotilla at Lono might already be on the way to Midway, in which case it would arrive before the HuK even got to Lono to find it empty of threat. That couldn’t be helped. “How much chance do you think that heavy cruiser we’ve got, C-818, would have against a flotilla with three heavy cruisers in it?”

Malin shook his head. “From what I have been able to learn of C-818’s commanding officer, she would probably run rather than fight.”

“And I can’t replace her because of my deal with President Iceni. But C-818’s commander could have an accident and need to be replaced. Morgan would take care of that.”

“Sir, I advise against that action. C-818’s commander is remaining on her unit in orbit. She is wise enough to know that is the safest course of action for her personally. As long as she is on that warship in orbit, reaching her will be hard to achieve, and deniability would be even harder to achieve if something happened to her.”

“Damn. Then all we can do is hope that whatever’s at Lono doesn’t get here before President Iceni gets back.”