Tarnished Knight

Chapter Fourteen

“This is Executive Level Two Fon, acting commanding officer of CL-187, for President Iceni.”

Iceni rested her head on one hand as she watched the message. Light cruiser CL-187 was about four and a half light-hours distant and nearing the second planet, so this wasn’t exactly timely news, but it was also the most recent information she had received from that part of Kane Star System. Her own flotilla, crawling along in company with the battleship, was itself still nearly thirty light-minutes, or sixteen hours’ travel time at its current velocity, from the jump point for Midway.

“We will arrive at the second planet in company with the freighter carrying refugees from the mobile forces facility in three hours,” Executive Fon continued. “It has been my pleasure to carry out your wishes, President Iceni, and to assist in ensuring the safety of the refugees.”

Executive Fon was groveling like a real executive, Iceni thought, something any snake in disguise would have trouble counterfeiting.

“We have been speaking with our people on the second planet,” Fon said. “They tell us there has been much celebrating and a few demonstrations over the form of the new government, but no fighting. We anticipate no problems recovering our people from the planet before we head for Cadez.”

That was good news. She was tired of watching people kill each other as the iron discipline of the Syndicate system disintegrated. A little break from that violence would be welcome, and perhaps the lack of violence would help restrain the more radical workers from gaining control.

“Once we have completed our escort mission and retrieved our people, CL-187 will return home to Cadez. The use of the hypernet gate at Midway would make this journey much quicker, easier, and less hazardous for us. We hope, in light of the service that we have rendered, that you will permit us the use of the hypernet gate when we arrive at Midway.”

Well, of course. They had wanted something from her. No wonder Fon and his light cruiser had done as Iceni had asked. The collapse of the Syndicate Worlds hadn’t altered the way people handled business like that.

“When we arrive at Midway, we will be happy to provide you with an update on the latest information we have from Kane,” Fon added. “For the people, Fon, out.”

Very good. He was smart enough to also dangle that offer as a gesture of goodwill. It would cost the light cruiser nothing to provide Iceni with that valuable update, but they hoped her gratitude would ensure the use of the hypernet gate unhindered.

Iceni straightened herself, checked her appearance, then hit the reply command. “Executive Fon, you and your unit will be welcome at the Midway Star System. I will look forward to hearing the latest information about Kane from you at that time. I anticipate no problems with your free access to the hypernet gate at Midway in light of your service to me and the citizens of Kane. For the people, Iceni, out.”

Nearly five hours before CL-187 got her message, and sixteen damnable hours before her flotilla could jump for Midway. Followed by six days in the gray purgatory of jump space. Though the seemingly endless creeping through normal space even to get to the jump must also qualify as a form of purgatory.

But at least this type of purgatory had an end. Iceni sat on the bridge for the last hour as her reunited flotilla approached the jump point. She was returning with a battleship, three heavy cruisers, six light cruisers, and nine Hunter-Killers. Still a small force by the standards of the recent war, but no longer one that could be brushed aside.

Once she got the battleship operational, that is. “You may jump the flotilla for Midway when you are ready, Kommodor Marphissa.”

The stars vanished again.

Three days into their journey through jump space. Three days left to go. By the end of that time, the strangeness of jump space would have begun wearing on them. Iceni remembered the feeling all too well, the sensation that your own skin belonged to a stranger, that you were intruding somewhere not meant for humanity. When it came to that, it wasn’t like she wanted to stay in jump space any longer than she had to anyway.

Iceni’s hatch alert chimed. She checked her surveillance and security devices, confirming that only Marphissa stood there and that she was unarmed. “Enter, Kommodor.”

Marphissa stood for a moment after entering the stateroom, as if uncertain of herself. “Madam President, I wanted to say something to you.”

“You’re grateful for command of the battleship.” Iceni waved her off. “That’s understood. I think you can handle it.”

“No, Madam President. It’s not about me. I wanted to tell you, to thank you, for what you did in Kane. For ensuring that those citizens from the mobile forces facility were saved.”

Iceni leaned back and regarded Marphissa curiously. “Did you know any of them?”

“No, Madam President.”

“And you surely knew what a threat their ways of thinking posed to you and me personally, as well as to the stability of our home.”

“Yes, Madam President.”

“And you knew that they had killed everyone on that HuK that tried to escape during the fighting on the facility. Mobile forces personnel like yourself among them. So why did their fate matter to you?”

Marphissa hesitated again. “It is very easy to kill, Madam President. Too easy. Saving a life is harder, and not expected. I wanted you to know that I am grateful that, despite all of the things you have just accurately noted, you still strong-armed that freighter into saving those citizens.”

“All right.” What else was there to say? “I had my reasons. Let me tell you, if those citizens had killed our people, had destroyed one of my HuKs, I wouldn’t have lifted a finger to save them.”

“That would have been justified,” Marphissa agreed, “even if it was not just.”

“What?” Iceni sat straighter. “Not just?”

“What I mean, Madam President, is that if those citizens had done that, not all of them would have been responsible. The leaders would have given the orders, and some might have followed them, but others might have thought those orders wrong and not participated in the destruction of the HuK at all.”

“And what does that have to do with anything?” What is Marphissa driving at?

“The entire group would have been punished, Madam President, regardless of their individual actions.”

“And what would you have preferred I do differently if that had been the case?” Iceni asked. She could easily use her tone as a whip to indicate displeasure or disagreement, but she kept her voice composed out of curiosity to learn Marphissa’s reasoning.

“A trial, Madam President,” Marphissa said.

“A trial?” That again? “To produce a finding of guilty that has already been determined? What’s the point of that? You sound like those citizens I heard about before we left, the ones who think our justice system needs to be fixed.”

Marphissa paused once more before answering. “Do you believe the justice system that we have inherited from the Syndicate Worlds needs to be fixed, Madam President?”

“Offhand, no,” Iceni said. “It delivers punishment quickly and surely. The guilty do not escape. What would I fix?”

“The purpose of a justice system isn’t to punish the guilty, Madam President. Punishment is easily administered. The reason a justice system exists is to protect the innocent.”

Iceni stared at Marphissa in astonishment. “Where did you learn that?”

“The Syndicate Worlds tried to eliminate every document, every book, that didn’t match their own beliefs, but it is very hard to destroy every thought that humans have committed to writing.”

“The underground library?” No one officially knew such a thing existed, but unofficially everyone had heard of it, and many found ways to access it. Rather than being a single building or process, Iceni had heard the underground library compared by the ISS to an infestation of electronic vermin, springing up in every star system, wriggling into every possible access, popping up someplace else as fast as one way in was sealed off. “You can’t believe everything you read. Punishing the guilty is necessary for any system to survive, for anyone to be able to feel safe. That must be our priority.”

“The guilty?” Marphissa asked, her breathing getting deeper and faster. “And if an innocent person is instead punished?”

Iceni shook her head. “There are no innocent persons. We are all guilty of something. It’s merely a matter of the degree of guilt and the seriousness of our crimes.”

“That is what we have been told, Madam President! What if there is another truth?”

“How can we compromise security and say that we are protecting the people?” Iceni demanded.

“Protecting the people? Madam President, the legal system of the Syndicate Worlds protects only those with power and wealth and punishes only those too weak to save themselves! If the goal is to protect the people, then why are the crimes of those who rule us never punished?” Marphissa stood rigidly straight now, her eyes registering defiance and perhaps some fear.

No matter how many thought it, no one was ever supposed to say it. Not to anyone superior in position. It was one of the first rules that everyone in the Syndicate Worlds learned, or they became early casualties of their own lack of discretion. “You presume much based upon our short working relationship,” Iceni said in her coldest voice.

“I presume much based upon who I think you are,” Marphissa replied. “Madam President, no matter your own motives, no matter how you act, what of the others in authority? You may protect us from injustice and punish only those who deserve it, but what of the others who control our destinies? What controls them?”

Iceni sat watching her silently for a long time, unable to think of an adequate response. The traditional reaction of a CEO to her words would have been to have Marphissa arrested and turned over to the snakes. Unless Marphissa knew something about Iceni that she didn’t want the snakes to know, in which case the prisoner would unfortunately die in an accident prior to the snakes’ gaining custody. The snakes were gone, but someone else could easily be found to fill the same role if Iceni were the sort to do such a thing to someone who had served her well and shown no disloyalty otherwise. It rankled Iceni that Marphissa had correctly judged that she would not take an action like that. “Kommodor, you should return to your duties,” she finally said.

“Yes, Madam President.”

“Kommodor.”

Marphissa paused in the hatch, turning to face Iceni and stand at attention, lacking only a blindfold to look like someone already facing a firing squad.

Until she spoke, Iceni wasn’t sure what she would say. “I much prefer those who speak their thoughts to my face to those who speak them behind my back. I will think on what you have said.”

Wise enough not to offer a reply, Marphissa saluted and left.

Iceni ensured that the hatch was sealed again and all security active, then sat and closed her eyes. Does that fool think that I’ve never suffered from the Syndicate so-called justice system? I know its flaws as well as anyone.

She had never sold her body, but she had been forced to yield it twice, each time to men who were far enough above her in the corporate hierarchy to know that they were safe against any penalty for their actions. Even as young and inexperienced as she had been then, Iceni had known that if she had tried to charge them with crimes she would have been the one convicted of “unjustly defaming” Syndicate officers. She had instead turned her desire for revenge into a climb for power, so she could get into a position to strike back, but both men had died before she could do so, one in an industrial accident and the other during a battle with the Alliance.

How many others had suffered the same way that she had? She would not be a victim. She would find a means for revenge. But revenge had been denied her by chance.

Marphissa had avenged herself for the death of her brother. A death brought about only by an allegation of wrongdoing. Should only the strongest have a means to justice? And that form of justice had only been vengeance. Nothing that Marphissa, or anyone else, did could have brought her brother back to life after he was executed for the crime of being accused of wrongdoing by someone who profited from that accusation.

Did punishment truly serve a purpose when all knew it was a weapon with no guidance, mowing down low-level criminals but also anyone unfortunate enough to fall under suspicion or to have something someone more powerful desired?

That’s the question, isn’t it? We talk about the need for safety and security, but how many citizens of the Syndicate Worlds have ever slept feeling safe and secure? No. We spent every day, every night, wondering when the heavy knocks would come on the door, when the door would be broken open, when one of us would be hauled off to answer for crimes whether or not we ever committed those acts. I’m the most powerful person in the Midway Star System, and I hide behind locked doors and security systems even when I have bodyguards on call. Safety and security, hell.

Iceni sighed, leaning back again, her eyes still closed. How do I fix that and still keep myself, and others, safe? Capturing that battleship may turn out to be one of the easiest things I’ve had to deal with.

I hope General Drakon is having an easier time. I ought to be worried about what he’s doing, but for some reason I don’t understand, I feel safer knowing that he’s watching things at Midway. Hopefully he can handle anything that comes up before I get back.

“A flotilla has arrived at the jump point from Lono,” Malin reported over the hoot of alarms behind him.

Drakon was in his command center in a heartbeat. Haste was absurd when the enemy had just been sighted six light-hours fifteen light-minutes distant, but it still felt necessary. Human reflexes insisted that an enemy in sight was an imminent threat, and human bodies and brains still responded to that ancient imperative. “Son of a bitch,” he muttered as he took in the information.

Two heavy cruisers, three light cruisers, four HuKs. And he had exactly one heavy cruiser to deal with them. It didn’t take an expert in mobile forces to know those odds were lousy. “Colonel Malin, inform the commander of C-818 that President Iceni has concealed a large explosive charge in her unit, and if C-818 doesn’t hold its ground and defend this star system, I have the codes to detonate it.”

Malin hesitated. “A heavy cruiser isn’t so large that she won’t be able to eventually discover that there is no such charge, General.”

“All I need is for her to have to remain here while she looks for it. We need some defensive presence.”

Morgan had also arrived and shook her head. “For a moment I thought our President had actually done something smart.”

“If she did,” Drakon said, “I don’t know about it. We haven’t heard anything from that flotilla yet?”

“No, sir,” Morgan said. “They didn’t send anything the moment they arrived here.”

“That’s odd. I would have expected an immediate demand that we surrender.”

“They’re heading… for the hypernet gate,” Malin reported. “They took up that vector immediately upon leaving the jump point.”

Drakon glared at the display. “No Syndicate flotilla would destroy that gate deliberately. They know there’s no longer a threat of the gate’s wiping out this star system when it collapses, but the Syndicate Worlds needs that gate. Why destroy the primary reason they want control of this star system back?”

Morgan suddenly laughed. “Oh, hell. They didn’t come here to attack us. They’re supposed to just pass through.”

“How long will that buy us?”

“Not long at all, General. Right now, they’re picking up lots of comm traffic floating around about General Drakon and President Iceni and the independent Midway Star System, and they’re noticing there’s nothing on the ISS circuits at all. Maybe they’re even picking up comments about the snakes here being dead.” Morgan pointed toward the display. “They’re deciding what it means, and they’re deciding what to do about it. Say you’re the commander of a flotilla and have a chance to reconquer a star system that has pulled out of the Syndicate Worlds? And the only mobile forces the rebels have is a single heavy cruiser? What would you decide, General?”

Drakon nodded heavily. “We’ll probably get their demand for submission to them within half an hour. I am open to suggestions.”

“Talk,” Malin said. “Keep them at arm’s length as long as possible. President Iceni could return at any moment.”

“Tell them you’ll collapse the gate if they attack,” Morgan suggested.

That sounded potentially useful.

“What would you do if I made that threat, Colonel Morgan?” Malin asked.

She paused, then shrugged. “I’d call your bluff.”

“Because it would have to be a bluff, a threat we dare not carry out. If the gate collapses, the value of the infrastructure in this star system shrinks to almost nothing. Control of the star system could be achieved simply by wiping out everyone and everything here by bombardment. They would no longer care what we might do in retaliation for that bombardment.”

Morgan scowled but nodded. “That’s right.”

“Then—” Drakon began, to halt when a comm alert sounded. “Twenty-five minutes for them to evaluate the situation and issue their demands. Let’s see what they say.”

He didn’t recognize the woman sending the message. She looked older, and his first impression was of caution. But first impressions could create later mistakes. Drakon concentrated on what she said and how she said it.

“This is CEO Gathos for the rebels in the Midway Star System. You are to surrender immediately, acknowledging the authority of the Syndicate Worlds, and deliver to me your primary leaders, former CEOs Drakon and Iceni, and their senior staff. If you do not transmit your capitulation within half an hour of your receipt of this message, I will initiate bombardment of noncritical infrastructure. For the people, Gathos, out.”

“Do you know her?” Morgan asked.

“No,” Drakon said. There were a lot of CEOs in the Syndicate Worlds. Iceni might know her, but if Iceni were here to tell him about Gathos, then Iceni would also be here with more mobile forces. “Assessment?”

“She means it,” Morgan replied.

“Agreed,” Malin said.

“Half an hour, or she starts throwing rocks. That rules out talking to buy time.” He looked at the display again, where the path of the Syndicate flotilla had altered, curving down toward the star and toward this planet. Half an hour to reply. Gathos and her flotilla wouldn’t hear that answer for six hours, but he still had to send it within the deadline.

“Pretend to surrender,” Morgan said. “The ship that delivers you to them will have commandos aboard, and we’ll take one of their heavy cruisers. That’ll give us two heavy cruisers to their one, or at worst, they’ll have one left, and we’ll still have one.”

To call that plan desperate was to understate things. “Malin?”

He shook his head. “Colonel Morgan’s plan is a very weak reed on which to base our survival, but I can’t see any other option that offers better odds. The only other thing I could suggest is prayer.”

“Prayer?” Despite his tension, Drakon smiled crookedly. “What would I pray to, Colonel Malin? And what would have any cause to listen to my prayers?”

“Only you could know the answers to those questions, General.”

“Then if you are so inclined, feel free to pray to whatever you can think of that we get out of this in one piece. But also get moving on Morgan’s plan.” He knew it had no chance at all. The moment he surrendered, the locals would start creating trouble, objecting to the return of Syndicate authority and tying down his troops, and the commander of C-818 would have plenty of time to confirm that there were no hidden explosives and either head for distant star systems at high speed or surrender her heavy cruiser to Gathos.

But a very small chance was better than none at all. Drakon’s hand hovered over the reply control.

“General?” Morgan sounded baffled. “They’ve turned.”

“What?” He looked back at the display, seeing that six hours ago, CEO Gathos’s flotilla had bent its course again, turning away from the star and aiming straight for the hypernet gate. “What the hell is she doing?”

“Maybe she lost her nerve.”

“Why? Because she looked up my service record? Somehow, I doubt that.”

They kept watching, but the Syndicate flotilla stayed with the vector it had steadied out on. Drakon’s eyes went to the time. The half-hour time limit was about to expire. “Maybe Gathos is trying to trick us into not surrendering so she has an excuse for pounding this star system into rubble.”

Morgan had been watching the movement of the flotilla with narrowed eyes, and now shook her head. “No. She’s running. I’d stake my life on it.”

“You are.”

“Oh, yeah. I am.” Morgan grinned fiercely. “But maybe I can get to Gathos before I die.”

A sudden laugh from Malin sounded at the same time as another alert from the display. He pointed. “Now we know why CEO Gathos changed her mind about trying to reconquer this star system.”

At the jump point from Kane, another flotilla had appeared. Heavy cruisers, light cruisers, and Hunter-Killers arrayed around the unmistakable bulk of a battleship. “President Iceni’s units arrived closer to the jump point from Lono than we are, so the light from their arrival reached CEO Gathos’s flotilla before it reached us. She would have seen immediately that Gathos’s flotilla was here, and issued a threat that would have reached Gathos at almost the same moment as Gathos saw our reinforcements.”

Drakon laughed, too. From the planet, the battleship didn’t show any signs of being barely operational. Its huge, threatening, ugly, beautiful hull seemed to gleam wickedly among the much smaller warships surrounding it. “President Iceni, this is General Drakon. I am really happy to see you. Welcome back. For the people, Drakon, out.”

“She cut it fine enough,” Morgan grumbled.

Turning to Malin, Drakon gave him a questioning look. “Did you get a prayer off, Colonel Malin?” Malin nodded. “Whatever you asked for, something seems to have listened.”

Malin showed the ghost of a smile. “I asked that you receive what you deserved, General.”

Drakon paused in surprise, then laughed again. “I guess nothing listened to you after all. If I’d gotten what I deserved, I’d have died storming Gathos’s flagship. You two can stop worrying about setting up that suicide mission and get back to working on preparations for the Taroa operation.”

President Iceni watched him warily from across the table. She looked tired, having taken a heavy cruiser at high speed back to the planet while the rest of her flotilla stayed with the battleship, but her eyes also held a spark of elation. “Neutral ground. Totally secure. No assistants or aides. What is it that you want to talk about? I’ve already heard that you were unhappy about an execution that I ordered.”

Drakon nodded. “Yes. The execution is a minor issue, but I don’t want it to be forgotten. I didn’t like being surprised to hear that someone had been shot on your orders.”

“CEO’s prerogative,” Iceni replied.

“You’re not the only one running things here. I want to have a say in something like that. I want to know what someone has done, and I want a chance to evaluate the circumstances.”

Iceni tilted her head slightly as she watched him, tapping one fingernail against the table. “You think that I silenced someone?”

“It’s possible. You know what they say. Dead lawyers tell no tales.”

“No lawyers were involved in this matter.” She paused, eyes hooded in thought. “But you think it might have been something like that.”

“How do I know otherwise?”

“A reasonable question.” Iceni smiled at him, the expression holding no real feeling. “I will agree to inform you in advance of any more executions, as long as that agreement binds both of us. You also don’t order any executions without telling me in advance of their being carried out.”

He had expected an offer like that. He had also expected her to offer something that seemed like more than it was. Iceni’s proposal left a huge loophole because executions weren’t the same as assassinations or neutralizations. Neither of them would be agreeing not to eliminate anyone by purely extralegal means. But that was all right. He was on record with her about his concerns, and she knew that he would be watching for any signs that she was silencing people who knew the wrong things. “Fine.”

Iceni’s false smile had vanished. “I’m going to be candid with you, General. I’ve been considering a number of issues about how punishment and other legal matters are dealt with.”

“What do you mean?”

“Ensuring that trials really do try to determine guilt and innocence. Ensuring that only those truly guilty are punished.”

“Are you joking?” Drakon eyed her for any signs of twisted humor, or perhaps insanity.

“No. I’m very serious. Needless to say, I will not do anything that imperils you and me, or that would create instability among the citizens.”

“Fine,” Drakon repeated. “I don’t have any objections to looking at that kind of thing, as long as we’re in agreement on whatever’s done, and as long as you and I are looked after in any changes. All right. That was a minor issue. Let’s talk about why I wanted this meeting. Taroa.”

“Taroa? Has one of the factions there prevailed?”

“No. Not yet.” Drakon called up a large display, pointing to a representation of the Taroa Star System. “But we’ve run everything we know or can reasonably well guess through simulations, and every simulation says the Syndicate loyalists will win. The only variation is how long it will take.”

Iceni frowned as she eyed the display. “Simulations are not reality. They can be extremely flawed.”

“I agree. But I looked at the data myself, and my gut tells me they’re right this time. The loyalists have too many resources, including control of the main orbital docks.”

Iceni tapped some controls, zooming in on the primary inhabited world at Taroa. “What happened to the light cruiser that was hanging around there?”

“According to the last we heard, it left.”

“Going back to Prime to report to the central government?”

“No. Going home.” Drakon gestured vaguely. “Lindanen Star System.”

“That’s not close, but it’s not all the way across Syndicate space, either.” Her eyes went to the display again. “Have you thought about what it’s like right now, General? All those star systems where Syndicate rule has ended or is shaky, all the mobile forces deciding whether to stay or go home. The ground forces, too, I suppose. They have the means to force someone to send them where they want to go. Everywhere out there, the broken remnants of the Syndicate Worlds’ military are making their way to wherever they hope to find safety and survival.”

“Or putting down roots where they are. It’s strange to think about,” Drakon agreed. “And worrisome. Those broken pieces of the Syndicate military could end up in the hands of someone who wants to use them to build a new empire.”

“Someone like us?” she asked.

“Could be. But I gather that’s not what you want to do.”

“We haven’t got the strength to build an empire,” Iceni said. “Just defending this star system is going to be a full-time job.”

“Even with the battleship?” Drakon asked, waiting to see if she would tell the truth about the status of that unit.

Another pause as she watched him. “You’ve probably already heard about the state of the battleship. It’s potentially a huge asset for us. But most of its systems are still not operational, and it has far too few crew members to operate those systems even if they were working.”

She had told the truth. That was heartening even if it was driven by the recognition that Drakon’s own sources would have learned the truth sooner or later. “How long until the systems are all up and running?”

“With what we have at Midway to work at it? Five to six months. And getting enough crew will take at least that long. Midway isn’t the most heavily populated of star systems.” Iceni turned her head slightly to smile at him in sudden understanding. “Taroa.”

“Yeah. A place with better ship outfitting yards than we have, stuff we can bring here, and a lot more trained workers who could be enticed to join the crew. You and I both know that we can’t afford to wait five or six months for that battleship to be ready to fight. We have to get it ready faster, and the means to do that are at Taroa.”

“Do you want an empire, General Drakon?”

“No.” Drakon pointed to the representation of Taroa. “There are three factions fighting for control of Taroa. The Syndicate loyalists including the snakes, some group that sounds like those worker committees you ran into at Kane, and some bunch calling themselves the Free Democratic Star System of Taroa. None are that strong because Taroa doesn’t have a hypernet gate. Maybe a third of the Syndicate soldiers went with the Free Taroans, but the rest, and all of the snakes, are in the loyalist camp. Local soldiers mostly went with the Free Taroans though some joined the workers. Our latest information, which is about two weeks old now, confirms that the worker faction is weakening. We got an unconfirmed report that the loyalists put out feelers to the rebel Free Taroans to unify against the workers, but the rebels were smart enough to know they’d be next once the workers were crushed. That just delays the outcome, though. Even if the Syndicate loyalists don’t get reinforcements or other support, and they’re the only faction with any right to expect that, they’ll still win as the workers and the Free Taroans run low on weapons and ammo.”

“Leaving one of the nearest star systems controlled by the Syndicate government,” Iceni said. “That would not be to our advantage.”

“No,” Drakon agreed. “And the workers are unlikely to be much better from our point of view though they’ve got practically no chance of winning. That leaves the Free Taroans.”

“Yes. But it sounds like they want elections for every office. Living with that next door might be very difficult. Working with that might be very difficult.”

“Maybe. It might also give you and me a test population, a place to see what happens when the citizens rule themselves. I think what we need to focus on is that the Free Taroans are better than the alternatives.”

“True,” Iceni conceded. “Still, elections at those kinds of levels…”

Drakon settled back and smiled. “Elections? We’re old hands at elections, aren’t we, Madam President? You know what they can be like. Fraud, bribery, vote manipulation…”

Iceni returned his smile. “All of which we are veterans at.”

“And all of which, my assessments agree, those pure-minded Free Taroans will convince themselves could never happen in whatever system of elections they come up with.”

“Meaning we will have substantial influence on the Free Taroans?”

“Bought and paid for,” Drakon agreed. “It’s the Syndicate Way, isn’t it?”

“As much as I detest many things about the Syndicate Way, those particular methods may prove very useful. So, not a conquest?

“Absolutely not. An intervention, tipping the scales, not a conquest. If we try to impose our will on Taroa with what we have, it’ll turn into a quagmire that’ll suck this star system dry in no time. We’d be easy meat for the Syndicate Worlds when they came knocking at the hypernet gate demanding to be in control here again. For personal reasons, I’d rather that not happen.”

“I’m sure I wouldn’t enjoy that outcome, either.” Iceni sat back, her eyes hooded in thought. “I believe that I planted some seeds at Kane for what might grow into a formal relationship between our star systems. If we could achieve similar results at Taroa, establish the grounds for creating an alliance of sorts, it could reap very important longer-term benefits. Trade, defense, a bubble of stability and order amid the collapse of the Syndicate Worlds. Three star systems isn’t much, but it would be a start toward that, and it’s a lot more than one star system.”

Drakon nodded. “Humanity only started with one, and look where we’ve ended up.”

“I don’t aspire to that degree of success. However, intervening at Taroa will require a significant investment in ground forces and mobile forces. We need those assets here.”

“We do. We also needed them here when we heard about the battleship at Kane, but it made more sense to send just about every warship to Kane. Now it makes more sense to send some of those warships to Taroa.” He could see that Iceni was convinced yet still reluctant to commit the necessary forces, so Drakon played his last card. “There’s something else concerning Taroa’s shipyards. The last few ships that went through there reported that the main construction dock is completely concealed. They’re at the stage where components of something are being assembled into a hull.”

“Something?” Iceni murmured. “Something big if they need to use the main construction dock.”

“Something big,” Drakon agreed. “And I think we could use that something big more than whoever it’s being built for right now. Which would be the Syndicate government on Prime. If we get the docks, we get that hull.”

“We get the docks? That could be exceptionally useful.” Iceni nodded and gave him a searching look. “What would you require to gain control of those docks and ensure victory for the Free Taroans?”

“I’d want to bring three brigades,” Drakon said. “That will require requisitioning some of the civilian merchant ships here. And a decent-sized flotilla of warships to deal with any light mobile forces that might show up there to give us trouble. If there are no mobile forces waiting at Taroa, what we have with us will help overawe the opposition.”

“If you want to overawe, the battleship is the way to go, but it’s not even close to ready.”

“I wouldn’t want to come in with the battleship,” Drakon said. “It’s too big, too threatening. Showing up like that would make it look like a conquest before we said a word. I want to have time to explain that we’re there to assist our, uh, friends, the Free Taroans.”

Iceni nodded again. “In exchange for control of those docks and what is being built there. All right. Three brigades. All of your soldiers, leaving me with the local troops.”

“The locals could handle anything that came up,” Drakon said, choosing his words carefully. “But what I intended was to bring two of my brigades and one of the local brigades. That would leave one brigade of absolutely reliable soldiers here.”

“Absolutely reliable?” Iceni asked, smiling thinly. “Just in case someone tried something while you were out of this star system?”

He hadn’t wanted to put it that bluntly. “If you want to think of that brigade as my insurance against you, then fine. You decided to leave that heavy cruiser here to watch me while you were gone. But that’s far from the only reason to leave that brigade here. You know as well as I do that the locals aren’t one hundred percent to be counted on.”

“But you want to take a brigade of them on this mission?”

Was she subtly taunting him? Or probing for his justifications? Drakon made an open-handed gesture. “My own soldiers can stiffen the locals if necessary, and the locals should be able to handle anything we find at Taroa.”

“So we’ll both feel safer if you leave one of your brigades here?”

“That’s right.”

“How thoughtful of you, General.” Iceni rested her chin on one fist as she regarded him. “Which brigade? Which colonel?”

“Colonel Rogero’s brigade.”

“Colonel Rogero? Again? Is Colonel Rogero particularly fond of me?”

Drakon laughed briefly. “I don’t know his personal feelings about you. I do know he can be trusted here.” Gaiene, for all his skills and loyalty, if left alone for an extended period was likely to be shot by an enraged husband or furious father, and Gaiene might well be drunk when the bullet hit if he wasn’t worried about Drakon showing up to check on him. Kai wouldn’t run out of control, in fact seemed to have no vices at all or any other interests outside of his job, but was too rigid, not flexible enough to react quickly if something unexpected occurred and Drakon wasn’t around to give new instructions. “Colonel Rogero also got to lead the force that went to Kane with you. Colonels Gaiene and Kai deserve a chance at action, too.”

“And which local brigade?”

“The One Thousand Fifteenth. Colonel Senski’s command.”

“Colonel Senski. Hmmm.” She didn’t seem convinced, but Iceni finally nodded a final time. “You will also be taking your two aides?”

“Colonels Malin and Morgan? Yes.”

“Then I agree to your proposal. How long will it take before you are ready to go?”

“Normally,” Drakon began, “it takes a while to set up a movement of this size, but—”

“But you started preparing well before I got back, anticipating that I would agree to the mission,” Iceni finished. She said it not as if guessing, but as if she had known that coming into the meeting.

Either Iceni was trying to rattle him by pretending to know good intelligence, or she really had some very good inside information on Drakon’s troops. The best reaction at the moment was probably no particular reaction. He smiled at her as if her foreknowledge was not an issue at all. “That’s correct.”

Iceni smiled back. “I’ll consult with Kommodor Marphissa on the size of the flotilla to accompany you. We will have to resupply those warships, and that will take a while. I’d estimate at least a week for them to get back here and prepare to go out again. I won’t mislead you as to my intentions. I will want to hold back enough warships to protect this star system and my battleship while it’s being fitted out, but I’m sure whatever we send with you will include at least one heavy cruiser.”

Drakon gave her an inquiring look. “Your battleship?”

“Did I say that? Our battleship, of course.”

“And I understand it has a name now.” Why not flaunt his own information gathering?

“The Midway. Yes.”

He had expected her to take the obvious course and name it after herself, which would have been a clear sign of ambition and ego. The fact that she had chosen something else reassured Drakon considerably. “Are you going to name the other warships, too?”

Iceni smiled again. “I already have. The implementing order is going out today. The heavy cruisers will be the Manticore, the Gryphon, the Basilisk, and the Kraken. The light cruisers will be named Falcon, Osprey, Hawk, Harrier, Kite, and Eagle. The Hunter-Killers will be Sentry, Sentinel, Scout, Defender, Guardian, Pathfinder, Protector, Patrol, Guide, Vanguard, Picket, and Watch.”

“Really? Those are pretty good.”

“I’m glad that I surprised you in that respect, General. Obviously, I cannot accompany you on this mission, so command of the mobile forces will be given to Kommodor Marphissa.”

Drakon nodded. “I’ve heard that she’s capable.”

“She is. She also has an unfortunate tendency to speak her mind. I hope that you can work with that.”

“I’ve got some experience with subordinates like that,” Drakon said dryly, thinking of Malin and Morgan. “They can be the best kind of subordinates if they know what they’re talking about, and if you’re lucky.”

Iceni gave him a surprised look. “Yes, General. They can indeed.” She paused for a long moment before speaking again. “Will you tell me something?”

“That depends what it is.”

“When you were facing the flotilla commanded by CEO Gathos, why didn’t you betray me to save yourself? You could have claimed that you had just played along with me in order to get me to expose myself. It might not have saved you, but it would have given you some chance.”

Drakon looked back at her for a while before replying. “If you want the truth, and if you want to believe that it’s the truth, that never occurred to me.” It had never occurred to Malin or Morgan, either. Or if either of them had thought of it, neither had brought it up. Why not? Malin should have seen the possibility, and that kind of opportunity was the sort of thing Morgan usually thought of first. Why had neither of them suggested turning on Iceni to at least buy some time?

“It didn’t occur to you?” Iceni sat watching him. “I know a lot about you, but I don’t really know you, General Drakon. Trying to predict what you’re going to do next can be difficult.”

“I have the same problem with myself at times,” Drakon said.

“Do you? I know what you should do in any given situation, based on what we’ve been taught and our experiences, but I don’t always know what you will do.”

He shrugged, surprised that she was openly discussing such things. “There are a lot of situations where being a bit unpredictable can be an advantage.”

“Of course,” Iceni agreed. “But…” She studied him again. “Do you intentionally do it as a tactic, or is it part of you? Something you would do even if it didn’t bring you an advantage?”

His own defenses were automatically rising, trying to keep him from betraying too much of what he thought. Drakon shrugged again. “Why would a CEO do something that didn’t bring an advantage?”

“That’s a good question. Yet here you are. You were exiled to Midway, and unlike me, who got sent here for bad luck as much as anything, you were sent here for doing something that had no possibility of benefiting you personally.”

Drakon met her eyes. “That depends what you consider a benefit. I did what I considered to be the… correct thing.”

“As opposed to the right thing?”

“The right thing? You mean like morally right? Nobody does that.”

“Nobody admits to it,” Iceni corrected him. “We know what the Syndicate Worlds looks like on the outside, and how a lot of it really works on the inside. And we know how the people around us look on the outside, but not what’s really inside because we all learn to hide that.”

“Yes.” Despite his wariness, Drakon felt his internal barriers lowering. What she was saying matched his own thoughts, the sort of thing you couldn’t discuss because you never knew who might use it against you. “I don’t know you, either. I don’t know who you are inside. I didn’t know that you thought about stuff like that.”

Iceni smiled in a self-mocking way. “I just spent a while traveling. You know what that’s like. All the books and movies you could ask for at your fingertips, but also a lot of time to think if you want to spend your time doing that. Especially in jump space. Nothing is happening outside, so inside you can… think.”

“What else did you think about?” he asked, and realized genuine interest had prompted the question.

“Have you ever wondered who you would be if you hadn’t grown up in the Syndicate Worlds?”

“You mean, if I’d been born on some Alliance planet?”

“Perhaps,” Iceni said. “Or perhaps somewhere else. Some star system far away, where they’ve never heard of the Alliance or the Syndicate Worlds or the war. Suppose you had grown up there? Who would you be?”

He could have laughed off the question, but Drakon thought about it. “You mean who would I be if I wasn’t me?”

“Not exactly.”

“Who would you be?” he asked her.

“I don’t know,” Iceni answered. “And that bothers me. Who would I be? I’ve spent my life, as you have, being careful, being afraid, toeing the line, playing the system, sometimes being a victim and sometimes being a victor. When we stuck our necks out, those necks, and the rest of us, ended up here in exile. Which was lucky because those necks could have been chopped off. Now the system is ours. We could make it what we want.”

“Like that thing about the trials?”

“Like that.”

Drakon felt himself really smiling, not just faking the gesture. “I guess that is nice to think about.”

“At least when none of our aides or assistants or guards are around to keep us on guard. It’s like living in a straitjacket sometimes, isn’t it?”

“It is,” Drakon agreed. “Freedom is, well, frightening in some ways. But we’ve never really had it, so we don’t know what it could be.”

“If you could do anything, absolutely anything, right now, what would you do?” Iceni asked.

“Um…” He didn’t want to answer that honestly, because he had always found women with that kind of curiosity, that kind of intellect, to be extremely attractive. But he doubted that Iceni would be flattered by an expression of physical desire, right now, for her, even if the desire was generated by her brain and not the other parts of her. “I don’t know. Run naked into the woods, I guess.”

Iceni laughed. “Really? What an interesting idea. What made you say that?”

“It was the craziest thing I could think of,” Drakon said.

“It sounds like fun. Let me know if you ever decide to do it.”

If only he could trust her.