Tarnished Knight

Chapter Five

Her assistant, Mehmet Togo, finally called in as Iceni’s cruiser neared orbit about the planet once more. “It took some time to override the locks placed on my systems by the ISS,” Togo explained.

“Did any snakes make it to my office complex?”

“No, Madam CEO. Several snakes were approaching our entrance when they encountered some ground forces.” Togo’s lips didn’t smile, but his eyes held wicked amusement. “The snakes got no farther.”

“Are there any ground forces in or near my offices?” Iceni asked.

“The nearest ground forces are on the streets outside, engaged in crowd control,” Togo replied. If there had been soldiers there, out of sight but with weapons aimed at Togo’s head, he could have used a code phrase to indicate duress, but that phrase hadn’t been in his reply. Everything is fine. A good code phrase to Iceni’s mind, since everything was never fine. Something would always be a problem.

“I’ll be taking a shuttle down in less than half an hour. I want a full report before then of what CEO Drakon is up to, and I want to ensure we have just as much access to the planetwide surveillance and announcing systems as he does.”

“Yes, Madam CEO.”

“I am streaming you some files of the engagement up here where we defeated CEO Kolani’s force. Make sure that those files and the news that my force defeated the threat of orbital bombardment are broadcast to the populace. I want the citizens to look upward and realize that it is thanks to me that the warships remaining in this star system are here to protect us, not threaten us.”

“A very good phrase, Madam CEO. I will make certain all of the citizens hear it before your shuttle has landed.”

Iceni grimaced with exasperation. It had been a long day and was far from over; there were too many variables to deal with and not enough information. At least Togo was still alive, and there weren’t soldiers crawling around her own offices. Drakon wasn’t being too obvious or brash if he intended taking over completely.

Maybe she should speak with him again before returning to the planet’s surface where she would be within reach of Drakon’s soldiers. Iceni was reaching for her controls when C-625 finally called in from its position near the gas giant.

The woman sending the message wasn’t C-625’s commander. She was also wearing a snake suit. Two bad omens whose dire implications were quickly confirmed. “This is ISS Executive Jillan to the traitor Iceni. The former commander of this mobile forces unit and several of her executives have been summarily executed. The ISS has established temporary direct control of this unit and will respond only to the orders of CEO Hardrad and CEO Kolani. For the people, Jillan, out.”

Damn. Either the snakes on C-625 had been particularly alert and ready to act, or the commander and executives on the cruiser had been too slow to make up their minds. Iceni hit the reply command. “ISS Executive Jillan and all personnel aboard C-625 and the other mobile forces at the main mobile forces facility, this is CEO Iceni. CEO Hardrad and CEO Kolani are dead. All ISS personnel elsewhere in this star system are also dead. I am in full control of the remaining mobile forces in this star system, and my ally CEO Drakon is in full control of the surface of the inhabited planet. This star system is now independent of the Syndicate Worlds and ISS authority no longer applies. You are to surrender C-625 to me. If you do so, the ISS personnel aboard C-625 and the units accompanying it will be granted safe passage out of this star system. A swift response is expected. For the people, Iceni, out.”

Akiri wasn’t asking, but he and Marphissa had surely already tapped separately into the message to learn what their superiors were up to.

Iceni faced them, keeping her voice level as she continued the pretence that the others did not know the content of the latest message. “The snakes control C-625.”

“Should we plot an intercept?” Marphissa asked.

Akiri shook his head. “They can easily evade us with the amount of distance between us. We’d never catch them.”

“Do we have other options?” Iceni asked.

Akiri paused, then looked to Marphissa, who also thought before making a helpless gesture. “We can’t catch them,” she agreed with Akiri. “Not unless they choose to fight us, and that seems unlikely. The ISS personnel in control of C-625 are not combat experienced. They don’t know how to operate that cruiser.”

“They could let automated systems on C-625 handle maneuvering and firing weapons,” Akiri grumbled. “They must know such an attack would be suicide, but we can’t assume they know how futile it would also be.”

Iceni nodded slowly. “That’s another good point. I’ve demanded that they surrender, but they won’t. They’ll head for the hypernet gate.” Both Marphissa and Akiri gave her surprised looks. “The snakes in control of C-625 aren’t like CEO Kolani. They were not responsible for controlling this entire star system. Their responsibility was to ensure control of C-625, and that they have successfully done. They can run to the central government at Prime and report personal triumph as well as the failures of their superiors. That’s what they’ll do.”

Akiri had quickly entered some data into the maneuvering systems. “If they do head for the hypernet gate, we still can’t stop them. They have too much of a head start on us. The civilian transport near the gate to act as a courier can’t do anything to stop that cruiser. You could order the defenses around the hypernet gate to engage C-625 when it gets close enough, but that might cause C-625 to fire upon the gate and damage it.”

Iceni brooded over that question, then made a helpless gesture. “It’s not worth the risk of damage to the gate. Tell the merchant ship courier to remain well clear of C-625 if it heads for the gate. There’s no sense in losing that ship.”

“Are we certain,” Marphissa asked, “that the snakes on C-625 won’t also launch a bombardment of the planet? The load-out on a single heavy cruiser isn’t huge, but it’s enough to seriously damage several targets on the planet.”

Targets meaning cities. Iceni thought again, then shook her head. “No. Snakes follow rigid discipline, which teaches them to do exactly what they’re told and nothing more. They don’t have orders to launch a bombardment, and devastating portions of the planet might be the wrong thing to do. Lacking anyone to tell them that they must bombard the planet, they’ll take the safe option of leaving that decision to superiors at Prime.”

The slight twist of Marphissa’s lips conveyed that she knew the concepts of rigid discipline weren’t confined to the snakes. But she was wise enough not to say that out loud.

“Let me know if C-625 leaves the mobile forces facility,” Iceni directed. She then checked a certain mailbox and found it still empty. Her source close to Drakon had nothing to report, or in the current rush of events couldn’t go through the many convoluted steps necessary to get something into that mailbox so that no one could tell where the message had come from. Or that source had somehow been compromised and cut off by Drakon. Nothing could mean nothing to fear, or it could mean a great deal to worry about.

She called Drakon.

Drakon’s response took an irritatingly long time. He finally called back, still wearing the combat armor. Was that display meant to send a message to her?

“Good to see you’re still around,” Drakon began.

“How nice of you to say so. I’m so glad you could take time from demonstrating your control of the planet to speak with me.”

Drakon smiled briefly. “There were matters that had to be dealt with. I understand that you’ve won, too. What happened to Kolani?”

“Dead.”

“That simplifies things.”

“Yes,” Iceni agreed. “With Hardrad dead as well we’ve cut in half the number of CEOs in this star system.”

His expression hardened. “Are you implying that should happen again?”

“That is not my wish.”

“I’m well aware that you don’t need me anymore now that the snakes are gone from this planet. You cut the deal with Black Jack, and you control the mobile forces here. I can’t touch you, but you could drop rocks on me all day. Let’s not pretend otherwise.”

Iceni regarded Drakon silently for a long moment before replying. “We both had our own reasons for rebellion against the Syndicate Worlds.”

“We didn’t have any choice when those orders came through for Hardrad to conduct the loyalty sweeps. We had to work together, or this star system would have ended up like all those other places where fighting has broken out. It was pure luck that we were already separately planning on revolting.”

“I never underestimate the importance of luck,” Iceni said. “I also don’t underestimate the value of people who don’t betray me when they have the chance.”

Drakon laughed. “We had plenty of levers to use against each other if it came to that.”

“There was nothing negative I could prove about you as serious as the deal I cut with Black Jack.”

“Yes,” Drakon agreed. “Making a deal with the Alliance would look bad to the snakes.”

“The deal was with Black Jack, not the Alliance,” Iceni said.

“What’s the difference?”

“I’m not sure at this point. He may be the Alliance.” Iceni frowned at Drakon. “The deal was worth the risk. We needed to know that Black Jack wouldn’t come charging in here to help enforce Syndicate authority, and I needed to be able to imply his backing for what we’re doing. The ability to say that Black Jack knew what we’re doing, wouldn’t interfere, and won’t let anyone else interfere, is invaluable.”

“Is that actually what Black Jack agreed to?” Drakon asked.

Iceni smiled without any hesitation at all. “Of course.”

“That’s quite a few important concessions from him. I’ve been wondering why he gave that up so easily.”

This time Iceni shrugged. She had no intention of admitting to Drakon that she had significantly exaggerated the extent of Black Jack’s support for her actions. “Maybe he really needed that mechanism to prevent hypernet gate collapses. Maybe he just wanted to be able to have leverage over us in the future. We’ll deal with that when we have to. We’ve already dealt with our former masters. Anything the government on Prime plans will take time to get together. We’ve got breathing room now.”

“No, we don’t.” Drakon waved to indicate the area outside where he sat. “The citizens are happy now, but I had one hell of a time keeping things from coming apart. Our own populace is poised to rise up in rebellion against us unless we handle them right. Leading this rebellion ourselves was our only chance, but I don’t think ‘same leaders, same rules, different titles’ is going to work very long. The citizens will figure out that game in no time.”

Iceni scowled. “We have the tools and tactics left us by the snakes. We can eliminate anyone we need to if they try to rouse the populace against us.”

“That worked for the snakes and the Syndicate Worlds. Until it didn’t,” Drakon pointed out. “I can ID anyone rabble-rousing. The surveillance software makes it easy to spot any leaders emerging by their communications patterns. And I can nail them as they pop up. But they’ll learn. How many different ways do you and I know to avoid snake surveillance?”

“Too many.”

“And you and I both know how many underground activities there are, black markets in anything you care to name. If a resistance starts using those techniques, spotting them will be as hard as hell. We need at least passive support from the majority of the citizens so rebellion can’t gain any foothold.”

“We have the warships,” Iceni said. “They’re our hammer to help ensure control of this star system.”

“Big hammer. Blunt hammer. We can nuke cities when things get out of hand, but that tends to dry up public support, and we don’t have an infinite supply of cities.” Drakon pointed to a display on one wall of the room where he sat, showing images of a mountain near a lake on some planet a very long way from here. “That’s from Baldur Star System.”

“I’ve heard of it but never been there. The beauty of the place is supposed to be breathtaking.”

“It is,” Drakon said. “But when I look at that picture, I wonder if that mountain and lake are still there, or if some orbital bombardment has turned that landscape into a cratered, lifeless ruin. We know the Syndicate way failed. Any fool could figure that out when the damned Alliance fleet came strolling through this star system and informed us that the war was over.” He snorted. “Our own government, the oh-so-efficient and effective Syndicate Worlds, couldn’t tell us that they’d lost. No. The enemy had to come here and do it, then the enemy blew away a bunch of those enigma ships that have been invulnerable to us because even though we’d spent decades trying to find out stuff about the enigmas, it only took the Alliance a few months to figure out how to defeat the aliens.”

“They had Geary,” Iceni said in a soft voice. “Black Jack.”

“Black Jack.” Drakon shook his head. “I didn’t believe the information we were getting about his coming back from the dead.”

“He came back,” Iceni replied. “I talked to him. It’s not a trick. Maybe he did us a favor.”

“By knocking the legs out from under the Syndicate Worlds government? Maybe. The corporate autocracy always justified itself by claiming to be superior to every other system, especially the inefficiencies of the Alliance.” Drakon gave her a skeptical look. “I’ll let the remnants of Syndicate authority on Prime try to come up with reasons why we couldn’t win a war despite a century of trying, then got our butts kicked by someone who supposedly died a hundred years ago. Are you sure Black Jack won’t be back here, trying to add us to an empire?”

Iceni looked down, her eyes hooded, recalling the messages she had received from Black Jack. “I can’t be sure of anything, but he seemed authentic. Just a military officer out to do his job. He’s either real, or he’s the best fraud I’ve ever seen.”

“He has to be working some angle.”

“If he were one of us, he would be.” Iceni fixed her eyes on Drakon’s. “Speaking of working angles, if I haven’t made it clear already, we still need each other. If you try to betray me, you might succeed, but even though the snakes are gone you’ll still go down with me. Just so you know.”

Drakon smiled at her, his voice and expression betraying nothing. “I already assumed that. I have control of the ground forces on the surface here and elsewhere in the star system”—he used one hand to mime pointing a weapon at her head—“and you have control of the mobile forces.”

She mimicked his gesture, pointing her own forefinger at him. “Let’s hope neither one of us is foolish enough to force the other to pull the trigger.”

“What do I have to promise to make you feel secure returning to the surface?”

“Your promises mean nothing.” Iceni watched him again, wishing she knew more about the man. “But I do have control of the mobile forces, and I will tell you that if anything happens to me, dead-man programs within their targeting systems will automatically launch a bombardment of the planet using every kinetic projectile aboard these warships.”

“I’d hate to see that happen.”

She couldn’t tell whether or not Drakon believed her. In fact, she hadn’t had the chance to set up such a system. But all that mattered was that Drakon believed she had, or remained uncertain about whether such a system to retaliate for her death existed. “Me, too. I’m glad we understand each other. I’ll be taking a shuttle down soon. I believe a face-to-face conference in a secure location as soon as possible is important. Where will we meet?”

Drakon paused to think. She knew what he was concerned about. If he came to her offices, it would feed the impression that she was superior to him. But if she went to his headquarters to meet Drakon, it would imply that Drakon was ultimately in charge.

“There’s a set of secure conference rooms the snakes maintained partway between your offices and my headquarters,” Drakon finally said. “We already went through them, looking for any snakes hiding out there, but I’ll make sure they’re swept again for snake surveillance gear and booby traps before you land. Is that acceptable?”

It would mean trusting that Drakon and his people would do a good enough job on that sweep. But she would have her bodyguards with her, and they carried their own hidden gear for spotting danger of many kinds. Iceni considered the idea, then nodded. “All right. I’ll notify you when I’ve landed.”

When she stepped off the shuttle Iceni could see Togo and several of her bodyguards waiting at the ramp. Much farther off, soldiers and military vehicles were positioned around the landing area. “Why are they here?” she asked.

Togo made a helpless gesture. “Security and crowd control. They said. They have not attempted to hinder us in any way.”

“We’ll see if that continues.” At least Drakon had shown the courtesy to keep his soldiers at a distance from her rather than placing them so close they might have seemed to be controlling Iceni.

She started walking toward her offices. “How does everything look?”

If Togo had wanted to say everything is fine, it was the perfect opening, but he didn’t respond that way. “Things could be worse.”

As they cleared some of the barriers around the field, Iceni could see the crowds of citizens still filling the streets. The noise from them, which had formed a low-level background hum that Iceni hadn’t really noticed, rose in volume as Iceni came into view. After a tense moment she realized that once again she was hearing cheers. “For me?”

“You are one of the liberators, CEO Iceni,” Togo replied, his expression deadpan. “The citizens are happy that thanks to you the mobile forces are no longer threats but have become guardians of their safety.”

Iceni, moved by a silly impulse, raised one hand to wave and heard the cheers rise a little louder. It felt good, and frightening. “Drakon is calling himself General now. I need a new title. CEO has too many bad connotations, and reeks of the Syndicate Worlds.”

Togo pulled out his hand unit as they kept walking, the bodyguards behind at a discreet distance. He punched in the query and frowned as he read the response. “There are many possible alternatives. Queen?”

“A good job description but that might sound a bit autocratic to the citizens,” Iceni said.

“There is no sense in telegraphing your intent,” Togo agreed. “Governor?”

“Too subordinate-sounding.”

“Prime Minister?”

“First among ministers? No, I need to be first, period.”

Togo consulted his unit again. “The Man.”

“What?” Iceni asked.

“The Man. Archaic. Very archaic.”

“And obviously not me,” Iceni said.

“The Big Cheese. The Big… Kahuna.”

“Are you making these up or actually reading those titles?”

“I am reading them, Madam CEO. How about Czar, Kaiser, or Caesar? The first two were derived from the last.” Togo frowned again. “But they all mean absolute ruler. Leader, Khan, Sheik, Pasha, Sultan, She-Who-Must-Be-Obeyed…”

“I like that last one.”

“And it is fitting,” Togo agreed. “But it might cause the citizens to believe that you have simply altered your brand name and intend to rule the same as a CEO.”

“We can’t have them believing that, can we?” Iceni said.

“How about the President? Or First Citizen?”

“That first one is a possibility. How does one become a president?”

Togo consulted the definition. “President describes the position as preeminent and is nonspecific as to the source of authority. It has been used for leaders of entities ranging from absolute dictatorships to societies so populist that they are only one step removed from total anarchy. Calling you the President may be a good choice.”

“President Iceni.” She tried out the title, saying it slowly. “The President, because there are no others. I do like that.”

“May I be the first to congratulate you, President Iceni?” Togo said.

“You may. Let’s go see General Drakon.”

The office building holding the secure conference rooms which had once belonged to the ISS had a nondescript façade. It had no sign or other identification beyond the street number and could have hosted any of a thousand kinds of modest businesses. The ISS had always displayed that two-faced approach to the outside universe. On the one hand, omnipresent and obvious surveillance systems, and headquarters or regional command centers that were large and clear signs of the power and presence of the snakes. On the other hand, lesser facilities hidden in places where they would least be expected, and other surveillance systems designed to be undetectable except by the most sophisticated equipment. The citizens of the Syndicate Worlds had always known that the ISS was there, but they had never known just where the ISS was, making for a powerful mix of justified fear and paranoia.

Inside the offices, though, the snakes had spared no expense. Iceni strolled past the plush furnishings to stand before a floor-to-ceiling virtual window giving a view on a gorgeous stretch of beach. She might have actually been standing near the sand, hearing the muffled, rhythmic roar of the surf on the other side of an actual window. The primary world of the Midway Star System, usually also called Midway, had a lot of beaches, but the nearest of those was over twenty kilometers from this building. Iceni doubted that this view was that of the nearest shoreline. The position of the sun appeared to be about an hour off, and the beach had the looks of one of the many archipelagoes that dotted the surface of Midway the planet, perhaps one of the island chains the ISS had declared off-limits to others so that the snakes could enjoy recreation there with privacy. The small continent on which the city was located, and which was the only other landmass boasted by the planet, had plenty of nice beaches, too; but they almost always had visitors on them since that was one of the few recreations for common citizens that the Syndicate Worlds hadn’t found a way to limit.

The door opened and Drakon entered, followed by two other soldiers. Togo, already seated at the gleaming conference table, murmured subvocally into his mike, and Iceni heard the words clearly through her own pickup. “Bran Malin and Roh Morgan. General Drakon has converted their sub-CEO ranks to colonel. They are his closest and most trusted advisers.”

Drakon nodded to Iceni. “All bodyguards outside? Good. Do you object to my two aides being here?”

“Not if you don’t object to my assistant,” Iceni replied, moving back to the table and taking a seat next to Togo. She surreptitiously examined Drakon’s aides as she did so. Unlike Togo, who at nearly fifty standard years old was both physically fit and very experienced, both Malin and Morgan were relatively young, perhaps in their late twenties or early thirties. They appeared to be about the same age. But both seemed to be confident and comfortable in the unpretentious way of people who really knew their job well.

The door sealed behind Drakon and a string of green lights flashed into life above it, indicating security systems active to prevent any intrusions or surveillance. He took a chair opposite Iceni, one colonel sitting to either side of him. “Here’s where we are right now,” Drakon began without further preamble. “I’ve got control of the surface and confirmed control of every important facility off the planet as well. My people are still conducting sweeps to ensure that no snakes are running loose on any of the islands. Until we complete those and make sure the populace is settled, I don’t have a lot of personnel to spare. The main mobile forces facility at the gas giant is under my control, but they’re afraid to blink because they say the mobile forces there are still controlled by snakes.”

“That matches the communications I have received from heavy cruiser C-625,” Iceni said. “It is possible that the other warships there, one light cruiser and three Hunter-Killers, are still commanded by their own officers, but the snakes on those units must be alert and will not be easily overcome.”

“Will they knock out the facility?”

“I don’t think so,” Iceni said. “It’s a very valuable facility to whoever controls this star system, and they have no orders from superiors to do so. I believe they will soon head for the hypernet gate to report on events here to the government at Prime.”

Drakon made a dissatisfied face. “And you lost two other cruisers as well?”

That stung. “I lost one other cruiser, Kolani’s flagship C-990. She sabotaged it. C-818 took a lot of damage to its main propulsion, but I already have other units en route to take it in tow so we can have repairs done. We will have four heavy cruisers to defend this star system.” Not until Iceni had said it did she realize how pathetic that force level really sounded.

But Colonel Malin commented before anyone else could. “That’s not much, but compared to what else is available out here now, and to the government on Prime, it’s a significant defense force.”

“You can’t catch the last cruiser? C-625?” Drakon asked.

“It’s one and a half light-hours distant, General,” Iceni replied. “Do you have any idea how many billions of kilometers that is?”

“I’ve marched enough kilometers to know how far one is,” Drakon said, his voice growing sharper. “Maneuvering is a matter of planning ahead and outthinking the opponent.”

Iceni smiled humorlessly. “I only wish space combat were as simple as ground combat.”

“Simple?” She had apparently touched a nerve. Drakon openly glared at her. “I’m sure everything is all clean and easy and sterile up in space, where you can slam shots at the enemy and never see their faces, let alone the blood and bodies, but it’s different and harder in the mud.”

Visions of the nightmare images from C-990 flashed into Iceni’s memory. To her own surprise, her voice came out fairly steady. “You may be seriously underestimating the impact of war even amid the silence of space.”

Something in her tone nonetheless registered on Drakon, whose anger shaded into careful study of Iceni. “Did you lose many people up there?”

“No. Except on C-990.”

Togo intervened, speaking emotionlessly. “There were no survivors on C-990. Internal fighting killed everyone.”

“Internal.” Drakon nodded and sat back. “That must have been ugly. All right. There are four heavy cruisers and some lighter units. I’ve got enough ground forces to hold the planet easily, especially once I get all the local troops up to speed now that I don’t have to worry about stepping on the toes of any CEOs a hundred light-years from here.”

Iceni, regaining her own composure, brought up a display of this region of space. “According to the latest information we have, there are a few other mobile forces in nearby star systems. I’m going to send individual HuKs out to those star systems to invite those warships to join with us. The last we heard, there were mobile forces units at Taroa, Kahiki, and Lono.”

“Nothing at Kane, Laka, Maui, or Iwa?” Drakon asked, naming the other four Syndicate star systems that could be reached from jump points at Midway. Being able to access such an unusually large number of other stars directly had given Midway its name.

He didn’t have to ask about the eighth star that could be reached from Midway. Pele had been abandoned to the alien enigma race a long time ago. Every Syndicate ship sent there since that time had vanished without a trace.

“Not to our knowledge,” Iceni replied. “The warships we send to Taroa, Kahiki, and Lono will also give us current information on what is happening in those star systems and anything they know about other places. Once they report back here I’ll send another wave out to check the remaining neighboring star systems.”

“Good plan,” Drakon approved.

Iceni watched him, judging her next move. Despite the fact that they had launched a rebellion together, they knew very little about each other as persons. Their coordination had of necessity been through the briefest possible means, all communications and the rare personal meeting in the course of their Syndicate duties carried out with official faces on. Anything else might have compromised their cooperation and plans to the ever-watchful snakes. Their official records were well-known to each other, but the things not in those records remained ambiguous. She knew Drakon’s face, but what lay behind it was another matter, and he surely felt the same regarding her.

Making up her mind to confront a volatile issue, Iceni leaned forward. “Now that you’ve agreed with my plans for the mobile forces, I’d like some input on what your assets are doing. I understand that there are ground forces guarding the snakes’ family complexes.”

“That’s right.” Drakon met her gaze without flinching. “All snakes have been pulled from the complexes. All that’s left are families.”

“What do you intend doing with them, General?”

Drakon paused, then blew out a long breath. “I’m still considering options.”

To his left, Colonel Morgan managed to convey disapproval without moving a muscle or making a sound.

Togo spoke into the silence that followed. “They will never be welcome, or safe, within this star system.”

Once again, Drakon displayed simmering anger. “Then what are you proposing?”

“It is too late to let the citizens resolve the issue for us—”

“I don’t let someone else resolve issues in order to make it easier for me,” Drakon snapped at Togo.

Iceni kept her expression unrevealing as she watched Drakon. “They can’t stay here, and neither you nor I is willing to murder families en masse. That leaves one option. We put them on a ship and send them somewhere else. Back to Prime, perhaps.”

Morgan finally spoke. “Waste a ship on that? We’d never see it again.”

“That is likely,” Togo said. “It is not a cost-free option.”

“They’re all going to want vengeance,” Morgan insisted. “When you kill a nest of snakes, you kill them all. Otherwise, the young and the others will come after you someday.”

“That option,” Drakon said, “is not under consideration.”

Iceni nodded. “I agree.”

“General—” Morgan began.

“That is all,” Drakon said.

As Morgan sat back, her expression gone impassive, Colonel Malin nodded toward Iceni. “I believe that the ship suggestion may be our best option, especially if we contrive to impress the snake families with our military strength before they depart. C-625 will carry news of the forces here when it left. If we wait until C-625 departs, we could fool the snake family members into believing that our mobile forces have received new reinforcements and are far stronger than they are. That is what Prime would believe.”

“Planted disinformation?” Iceni said. “Under cover of a humanitarian action? I like the way that you think, Colonel.”

Togo made a small gesture of agreement. “One merchant ship would be a small price to pay for misleading the Syndicate government as to our strength.”

Left unsaid was something they all knew. With so many star systems spinning out of Syndicate control, the government on Prime had to choose which ones were marked for reconquest. Midway, with its hypernet gate, its access to multiple star systems, and its connection to space controlled by the enigma race, would be a priority for such a counterattack. It wasn’t a matter of whether or not Prime would send an attack force to try to reassert its authority, but when that would happen.

“It sounds like we’re agreed, then. Work with CEO Iceni’s staff on that plan,” Drakon ordered Malin.

“President Iceni,” she corrected with a small smile.

“President?” Drakon’s mouth twisted in a half smile in return. “What exactly does that mean?”

“Whatever I want it to mean.”

His smile grew slightly. “Good. Get rid of the Syndicate baggage once and for all.”

Colonel Malin rested his arms on the table, gazing at Iceni and Drakon. “That raises a topic I think we must address before it is forced upon us. We have all seen the crowds. They are happy today. The measures we have taken have maintained order. But tomorrow, they will wake up with hangovers, squint at the rising sun, and wonder what under that sun has changed.”

Morgan was now displaying disdain with the same lack of sound or movement.

“What are you suggesting?” Iceni asked.

Malin swept one arm to encompass the outside. “We all know how bad things were under the Syndicate Worlds. Only the highest echelons really benefited. For the vast majority of citizens, there was no sense of ownership. The need for security drove compliance with the government more than anything else, but that compliance went only as far as it had to go. Do I need to cite the estimated numbers for losses due to corruption and waste? How inefficient and unproductive our manufacturing and fabrication facilities often are? If this star system is to prosper, we need to get the citizens believing that they have a stake in that prosperity.”

Iceni gave him a polite but cool smile. “I have no intention of surrendering power to the mob.” That earned her another impossibly subtle reaction from Colonel Morgan, this one of approval.

“We have to stay in control,” Malin agreed. “But there are many levels below us. The lowest levels, the ward officers, council members, even mayors could be offered as truly elected positions.”

Drakon appeared as uncertain about that as Iceni felt.

But Togo nodded. “I felt the power of the crowds. They will not accept business as usual. We need to throw them a bone. One with real meat on it. Or perhaps a synthetic substitute that they will accept as real meat.”

“Low-level positions?” Drakon asked.

“And where would you draw the line?” Morgan demanded. “Give them council members, and they’ll demand the right to choose their own mayors, then regional controllers, then generals and presidents! Do we want some citizens off the streets rummaging through the files of what we’ve done in the past?”

“We cannot control the crowds using only force—” Malin began.

“I can! Give me the authority and the troops, and I’ll have the streets cleared and every citizen saying ‘yes, sir, yes, sir, three bags full’ before sundown!”

After a pause in which Iceni tried not to stare at Morgan, General Drakon spoke. “That’s an option, but it has significant downsides. One of them is that if our troops are tied up garrisoning our own population, that means we can’t use them elsewhere.”

That argument seemed to get through to Colonel Morgan where others had not. “That’s true. But we could end up facing the same garrisoning problem if the citizens are allowed too much latitude and start thinking they don’t need to do as they’re told.”

“Yeah. That’s a problem. How do we give them enough to keep them happy but not too much so that they think they can demand more?”

Malin answered. “We can’t satisfy all of the citizens. Some, a few, will demand total democracy tomorrow. We can highlight the problems that would bring and offer enough evidence of change to keep the great majority of the citizens on our side.”

“Just enough evidence of change?” Togo asked.

“And how do we determine what that is?” Morgan asked. “Give too little, in their eyes, and they’ll demand more. If you give in then, they’ll think you’ll keep giving in.”

Bloodthirsty she might be, but Morgan had some good arguments. Iceni glanced at Togo. “General Drakon has already played the security card. Keep your homes and families safe. What else can we use to put the brakes on citizen desires to rule themselves?”

Togo looked upward, frowning in thought. “Divide and conquer. A very ancient tactic but very effective. What happens if the citizens can vote what they want? Will the cities take all for themselves since they have more voters? Will the cities be denied what they wish because power blocs of other voters seize control of elected positions out of proportion to their numbers? Change must be careful to ensure that no one is hurt. By keeping the individuals in upper-level positions appointed by President Iceni with the full advice and consent of General Drakon, who all can trust to work in the interests of the citizens since they expelled the snakes from Midway, we will ensure that everyone’s interests are protected.”

Drakon smiled crookedly. “Damn. You almost make me believe that you’re sincere.”

“The best propaganda is always anchored on a seed of truth that offers stability and the illusion of legitimacy to the arguments attached to that seed.”

Even Morgan looked impressed this time.

“However,” Drakon added, “I want an even split on who nominates people for positions. President Iceni can nominate half, with my advice and consent, and I’ll nominate the other half, with her advice and consent.”

“Fair enough,” Iceni agreed.

“The low-level election process will require preparation,” Togo continued. “The software must be confirmed to be reliable at actually counting votes instead of simply producing the desired vote totals. Back doors into the software that could allow manipulation of results must be blocked. Except for those hidden back doors that President Iceni and General Drakon wish to continue to exist, of course. Candidates must be found, campaigns must be waged. The process cannot be rushed without denying prospective candidates the opportunity to compete. It will be a long process.”

Iceni nodded, smiling outwardly, and wondering why inside she felt a strange sense of discontent. Wasn’t this the solution I wanted? It seems like it. But the Syndicate system failed, and isn’t this just an attempt to perpetuate it?

I need time to think. Togo’s solution will give me that time, but I will think.

She looked across the table at Drakon. Did his eyes mirror the same dissatisfaction? Or was she imagining that? “Let’s do it,” Iceni said, and no one objected.

As he reentered his headquarters complex, Drakon felt himself relaxing for the first time in a very long time. It had been a hard day, but he had done it. He and Iceni had done it.

He had learned a bit more about her, too. Unless Iceni was an excellent actress, she had been genuinely rattled by the losses suffered in the mobile forces engagement. That was reassuring. Leaders who simply wrote off human losses as the cost of doing business were also, in Drakon’s experience, fully capable of writing off allies in the same way.

He still hadn’t decided whether to contact her again later, just the two of them, to explain about the four snake sentries and their families who were being given new identities and new homes. It didn’t seem likely that Iceni would demand their blood, but you never knew. The alternative was sticking them on the same transport as the other snake families, but how would those four snakes explain their survival when all the rest of their comrades were dead? No, that would be a betrayal of his promise to them. Without their aid, he couldn’t have gotten to that main surveillance node. He paid his debts.

Which also meant he owed Iceni, but it would be best not to make that too clear in case she saw an acknowledgment of debt as a sign of dependency.

Malin’s comm unit buzzed urgently. Malin consulted it, his face losing emotion as he read. “General.”

So much for relaxation. “What is it?”

“We’ll have to modify what we told President Iceni regarding your control of all important off-planet facilities.”