Tarnished Knight

Chapter Eight

A display showing nearby stars floated above the center of the conference table. Iceni wasn’t looking at it, though. She seemed to be lost in thought, staring at the virtual window and its peaceful beach as if she wasn’t really focused on it.

“What’s up?” Drakon finally asked. “You wanted to meet on neutral ground, no aides or assistants, just you and me.”

She inhaled slowly, as if coming back to full alertness, then gazed at him. “Yes. We have some very interesting news from Taroa. The HuK I sent there returned several hours ago. Have you seen its report yet?”

“Yes.” Drakon glanced at the star display, where Taroa glowed brighter for extra emphasis, as did the star Kane for some reason. “Three-way civil war. They didn’t have that many troops on hand, so the fighting isn’t too severe, but it’s widespread. Since Taroa doesn’t have a hypernet gate, there weren’t nearly as many snakes or Syndicate troops there, so the loyalists can’t put down the other two factions.”

Iceni nodded, and he noticed that now she was looking toward not the depiction of Taroa, but that of Kane. “There was another item reported to me by the commander of the HuK. It’s not even in the classified report. He managed a face-to-face meeting with the commander of the light cruiser at Taroa, which so far has remained neutral in the struggle and may join us here.”

“That’s nice.” One light cruiser, more or less, hardly seemed that critical an issue to have Iceni so distracted.

“It’s what else that light cruiser commander told us that’s important. You know the shipyards at Taroa engaged in some significant construction for the Syndicate Worlds. Nothing compared to the major shipyards at places like Sancere, but still large projects. Taroa’s shipyards are much better than ours since the Syndicate government judged that they weren’t in as much danger from direct enigma attack and put more money into them.” Iceni’s eyes locked on his, and she leaned forward. “Taroa’s shipyards have nearly completed construction of a battleship. It only has a skeleton crew and is still fitting out.”

Drakon stopped breathing for a moment. “A battleship?” he finally said. “You told me there were only light mobile forces at nearby stars.”

“Yes. That’s what I believed to be true. The official story was that the battleship had been sent to another star system much closer to Prime for final fitting out so the Syndicate government could ensure control of it. But what actually happened was that the CEO on Taroa sent it to Kane, thinking that he might really need a battleship someday and thinking that he could get away with pocketing the battleship in the chaos following Black Jack’s victory at Prime.”

“Good guesses on his part.”

“Weren’t they? But we need that battleship more than he does. If we gain control of that battleship, we will have enough firepower to have a decent chance of fighting off any attacks on this star system.”

“Can we finish the work on it here?”

“Yes.”

His eyes went back to the star display. “And it’s at Kane. How are they hiding a battleship at Kane? It’s not a heavily populated star system, but there are plenty of citizens there and merchant ships coming and going.”

“I asked myself that same question.” Iceni zoomed the display in on Kane, and soon enough that star system floated above the table, its planets visible. “The main mobile forces facility there is like the one here, out near one of the gas giants. See these large moons? If the battleship was positioned in the right place around the curve of the gas giant and relative to the two moons, it wouldn’t be visible from inhabited locations in the star system or from the normal shipping routes. You couldn’t find it unless someone went to the gas giant looking for it.”

Drakon nodded slowly, trying to put the concept within his own experience with ground operations. “Hide it where no one would think to look. Surely, someone in Kane knows about it.”

“The light cruiser commander believes that local authorities in Kane are playing along and keeping the battleship’s presence quiet in exchange for a promise that it will be used to defend them as well as Taroa.”

He pondered the news, out of habit running through the planning implications. “If that information is accurate, we can’t afford to take time to send a scouting mission. We need to get to the battleship before the weapons are active or the people fighting on Taroa send for it to tip the scales. That means going in blind.”

“I know.” Iceni ran one hand through her hair. “It could also be a trap, with mines set to hit anything coming out of the jump point at Kane. But I don’t see any alternative. The prize is just too big. We cannot afford to hesitate.”

Drakon eyed her. “So what’s the problem?”

“There are two.” Her eyes were on his again. “I’ll have to take almost every warship that we’ve got. I’ll leave one HuK as a courier to let me know if disaster strikes here while I’m gone. You’ll be practically defenseless if any other mobile forces show up. And I need to command this mission personally. I think I can trust Sub-CEO Marphissa, but the stakes are too high to risk that she might be tempted to make her own use of that battleship, and she has never commanded a flotilla in action.”

“You need to go personally.” So that was it. “Meaning, you leave me alone here in this star system.”

“Exactly.”

Drakon shrugged. “If you come back with a battleship, then it doesn’t matter what games I might have played in your absence. You’ll have the winning hand.”

“And if there’s no battleship there? Or if it has already got enough weapons active that I can’t take it and come back only with what I took, or even less if I lose some warships, then what?”

He leaned back, rubbing his lower face with one hand. “You’ll just have to trust me.”

Iceni exhaled heavily. “Let’s go over that last statement of yours again, General Drakon, so you can let me know if there’s any portion of it that would give you pause if I had said it to you.”

“That ‘trust’ word might give me some trouble.” Drakon spread his hands. “I can’t give you any hostages that you would think tied my hands. I could promise to not betray you, but what’s the promise of a CEO worth? Mine is actually good, which is why I rarely give it, but I know you have no reason to accept that. I have played straight with you.”

“As far as I know.”

“What’s the alternative, Madam President? We both sit here in this star system, holding guns on each other, until a big enough flotilla from Prime shows up to screw both of us? That’s assuming whoever wins at Taroa doesn’t decide it would be nice to control a hypernet gate and sends that battleship to take over here before the Syndicate Worlds government can get around to it.”

Iceni looked at her hands where they rested on the table’s surface, then back at him. “What do you want for this star system, General Drakon?”

There were many possible answers, most of which would be lies or misdirection. He looked back at her, deciding to answer with as close to the truth as he himself understood it. “Something better than I grew up with. Something worth dying for if it comes to that.”

“I know your record. There have been many times that you could have died for the Syndicate Worlds.”

“And that would have annoyed me. Seriously. Hell, I didn’t care about the Syndicate Worlds. I was trying to protect people I cared about even if they were dozens or hundreds of light-years distant. I didn’t have any choice.” Drakon made an angry and helpless gesture, remembering those years. “Now I do. I want to care about what I’m fighting for. I don’t know exactly what that is. Getting rid of the snakes and the rest of the Syndicate control was an immediate necessity, something I could plan and do, but after that… I’m still figuring that out.”

She watched him silently for so long that he wondered about saying something else. “I am afraid of you, General Drakon,” Iceni finally said. “I am afraid of what you might make me do. I don’t want to see this star system destroyed.”

“I don’t either.” Drakon tapped the table surface for emphasis as he spoke. “Do you think I’m stupid?”

“No.”

“Then, as long as there’s any chance of your coming back with a battleship under your control, why would I be dumb enough to try taking over in your absence? Let’s be totally pragmatic here. If I wanted to take over, the first thing I’d have to do is kill you. That way, I have a chance to get the mobile forces, the warships, on my side. Without them, my position is untenable.”

Iceni smiled. “You’ve obviously thought about how to get rid of me.”

“Are you trying to claim that you haven’t thought about what it would take to eliminate me as a rival? The point is, once you leave this star system, I can’t touch you. That means the best way for you to ensure that I don’t take over is to leave. It doesn’t make you vulnerable, it makes you invulnerable as far as I’m concerned.”

She stared at him, then laughed. “General, your logic cannot be faulted.”

“When do you leave? And do we let the citizens know?”

“As soon as possible, and… there are good arguments for telling them and good arguments for keeping them in the dark.” Iceni’s eyes were back on the star display. “If I can’t be found, too many people will conclude that General Drakon might have disposed of the competition. Once my flotilla jumps for Kane, I will have my own staff tell the citizens that I am leaving on a special mission to…”

“Try to bring peace to our neighbors?” Drakon asked mockingly.

“Oh, that’s good. Yes. A mission of mercy.”

“I wasn’t serious. What happens when you get back, and they learn that you were actually on a snatch-and-grab mission for a battleship?”

Iceni smiled at him again. “I’ll have a battleship. Why should I care how anyone feels?”

This time, Drakon didn’t return the smile. “Anyone? Including me? You’ll have a huge amount of firepower under your control.”

“Yes. You’ll just have to trust me.”

At least she didn’t use a derisive tone when she quoted him. “What are you going to use to capture it? Assault parties from the crews of the mobile forces?”

“What can you give me?” Iceni asked.

“A lot more than you can use. Can you bring up the current status on your mobile forces?” Drakon studied the information as it popped up on the display. “Very limited free berthing capacity, and you’ll only be able to haul three shuttles with you. I recommend providing you with three squads of special forces. That’s way too few to tackle the crew of a fully operational battleship, but if this one is still working with a skeleton crew it should be enough.”

“I will accept your recommendation,” Iceni said. “Who will command your special forces?”

“Normally a force that small would be commanded by a lieutenant or a captain at the most.” He saw her uncertainty at the new titles. “That would be subexecutive or junior-executive rank. But you need someone senior enough to be in control of a battleship, someone we have no doubt of in terms of loyalty and reliability, and the more experienced the better.”

Drakon paused to think again. Normally, he would be considering sending either Morgan or Malin, but Morgan was still acting too much like a loose cannon at the moment, and after Malin’s actions during the assault on the orbital facility Drakon didn’t feel comfortable having him out of sight for a while. “Colonel Rogero. He’s the best for this. Aggressive and capable, as reliable as they come, and his subordinates won’t have any problems handling his area of responsibility down here until he gets back.”

“Rogero?” Iceni questioned. “Reliable?”

She knew about the Alliance battle cruiser commander. Drakon had briefed Iceni on that when the message had come for Rogero while Black Jack’s fleet was here. “Absolutely.”

“What about your other senior commanders?”

“Kai is solid but can be slow. He prefers to plan things out, then go by the plan. You need someone who will move fast and be more agile. Gaiene is aggressive enough, too much so sometimes, but on his own he can get a little wild. You don’t need someone willing to take too many chances when you’ve only got three squads to play with. I’m also not comfortable with how well Gaiene’s subordinates are set up to operate without his oversight.”

Another long look at him, as if she were trying to read his mind, then Iceni nodded once. “All right. I need your soldiers and Colonel Rogero in orbit as soon as possible.”

Drakon did some quick estimating in his head. “Two hours.”

“Can you make it one?”

“No. Besides, a two-hour scramble I can pass off as being part of a training exercise. A one-hour panic party will arouse way too much attention.”

“Then I agree. Two hours. I will see you again when I return, General Drakon.”

Even though Iceni had decided that she had no alternative to going to Kane, the idea of trusting Drakon not to stab her in the back in her absence left her in an even worse mood than before as she hastily prepared to take a shuttle up to C-448. She would be risking her control of the star system and putting herself back at the mercy of the crews of the warships. They had sworn loyalty to her, but they had also made similar oaths to the Syndicate Worlds. Every CEO knew that inconvenient oaths were easily disposed of, but now those crews certainly knew it, too.

Those crews had also learned how easy it was to dispose of authority figures. The workers were becoming privy to the same rules that the higher levels had followed for generations, and that could not be a good thing for those in the higher levels.

Nor could she take any bodyguards along on an extended voyage on something as small as a heavy cruiser. There was no room for them, and the potential for a misunderstanding and violence in the cramped quarters of a warship too high.

Her imagination filled with an image of being shoved out of an air lock by laughing workers, Iceni jerked nervously when the door to her office announced a visitor. Togo. Him she shouldn’t have to fear, but the fact that she had overreacted didn’t help her disposition. Wonderful. She hadn’t even boarded a shuttle or left her own office yet and she was already unnerved.

“What is it?” Iceni snapped as Togo entered.

“You asked for whatever I could discover about Colonel Malin and Colonel Morgan,” Togo said, imperturbable in the face of her grumpiness. “I thought I should provide you with what I knew before you left. Forgive me if I was in error.”

“No. You aren’t mistaken. I’d like to know more about Drakon’s team before I leave this star system in their hands.” Iceni closed her eyes, calming herself, then looked at him. “Take a seat. What did you find?”

Togo sat down, not relaxing in the chair but keeping his back erect. He hadn’t lasted this long as personal assistant to a CEO by presuming on his acquaintance with those of high rank. Bringing out his reader, Togo cleared his throat, then began reciting his report. “Colonel Malin is the child of an unmarried officer in the medical service who was widowed four years before his birth when her husband died fighting the Alliance.”

“Frozen embryo or a fling?” Iceni asked.

“Apparently a fling. The identity of the father is unknown.”

There wasn’t anything unusual about that, not after so many years of war. So many husbands and wives had died, so many men and women had sought someone to help them bear heirs of their bodies, no questions asked.

“Bran Malin’s mother helped him get into the subexecutive ranks,” Togo continued. “She reached the rank of sub-CEO before retiring, but died several years ago as the result of long-term ailments contracted while working at a classified medical research facility. After a few assignments in a variety of support and frontline positions, Bran Malin asked to be assigned to the ground force commanded by Drakon. He is now twenty-eight years old and has served with Drakon for seven years, first commanding ground units directly and eventually becoming a close and trusted adviser to Drakon.” Togo lowered the reader. “That is all there is though I can recite his assignments prior to Drakon’s command. Your earlier assessment, that Malin is controlled and careful, is borne out by every source I could find. Since he is both controlled and careful, there is nothing in Malin’s record indicating that he has ever expressed any unhappiness with Syndicate rule.”

Iceni pondered that, then nodded. “And Morgan?”

“Her history is much more interesting.”

“Somehow, I thought that it would be.”

That earned Iceni a small smile from Togo before he resumed his usual unrevealing expression. “Roh Morgan’s parents died in action when she was very young, and she was raised in a succession of official-duty orphanages. She joined the ground forces as soon as legally old enough at seventeen and volunteered for the commando branch. Her training for that was cut short, and it took considerable digging to find out what happened after that.”

Iceni leaned forward, intrigued. “Some secret assignment?”

“Extremely secret, Madam President. So secret that the code name itself has apparently been wiped from the records. But I was able to piece together the concept with what remained in ISS files. It was an operation aimed at the enigma race.”

“The enigmas?” She hadn’t expected that. “Every operation the Syndicate Worlds has staged over the last century to try to learn more about the enigmas has been a total failure.”

“As was that involving Roh Morgan,” Togo confirmed. “I was able to determine that the plan involved the use of small, natural asteroids, which would be hollowed out to each hold a single commando frozen into survival sleep along with just enough equipment to maintain that state. The asteroids were launched from a ship outside an enigma-held star system, pushed inward toward the planets at velocities low enough to seem normal.”

“No wonder they put the commandos into survival sleep! At those velocities, it would be decades before the asteroids reached any planets.”

“Yes.” Togo paused, then shook his head. “When close enough to a planet, the commandos would be awakened, and were then expected to land and send out any information they could before being hunted down and killed by the enigmas.”

Iceni stared at him. “A suicide mission lasting for decades and no guarantee that it would actually accomplish anything. Morgan volunteered for that?”

“Yes,” Togo said again. “As you know, the Syndicate government was desperate for any information about the enigmas. For the first couple of decades, the enigmas gave no sign that they were aware of the operation, but when some of the asteroids began approaching the inner system, the enigmas started to target and destroy them, one by one. A decision was made to attempt a recovery of any surviving commandos, and two, including Morgan, were picked up by a special automated craft that, for some unknown reason, the enigmas did not destroy.”

“That’s odd,” Iceni said. “That the enigmas let two commandos be recovered, yes, but mostly that some CEO approved risking those kinds of resources to save the lives of two junior workers.”

Togo made an apologetic gesture. “The intent was not to save the workers. It was desired to recover their asteroids intact so they could be carefully examined for whatever might have betrayed their special characteristics to the enigmas. That Morgan and the other commando survived was simply a by-product of the recovery.”

“Oh. Naturally.” She didn’t bother asking whether the examination had found anything, because she knew it couldn’t have. The asteroids, like every other Syndicate Worlds’ action in connection with the enigmas, had failed because of quantum-level worms the aliens had successfully seeded into every Syndicate automated system. Thanks to those worms, the enigmas had always known exactly what the Syndicate Worlds was doing and could even spoof Syndicate sensors in invisible ways. The Syndicate Worlds had never found those worms, undetectable by normal computer-security means. No, it had been the Alliance that had done that. Black Jack, to be specific, then he had given the secret of finding and neutralizing those worms to the Syndicate Worlds. The embarrassment of that Syndicate failure had been the final blow for Iceni, the last straw that had led her to begin planning for revolt.

Togo tapped his reader. “There were some problems with the awakening of Morgan and the other surviving commando. While their period in survival sleep was roughly twenty years, that should not have been long enough to cause difficulties. I could find no details of what the problems were, just vague references. Some of those references led me to believe that there may have been some special mental conditioning of Morgan and the others before the mission.”

“Special mental conditioning?” That could mean many things, many of them very ugly.

“I do not know for certain, Madam President. Morgan’s psych evals after awakening rated her within acceptable limits, but erratically so. She was rejected for further duty with the commandos. Morgan was eventually released for duty in the regular ground forces. This happened just as the ground forces were facing a serious shortage of junior officers as a result of some failed major offensive operations that had resulted in an even higher-than-usual rate of casualties among junior officers. A large number of worker-level ground forces personnel were designated for immediate promotion to junior subexecutive, and one of those was Morgan.”

Iceni eyed Togo skeptically. “She was chosen for promotion to subexecutive rank despite her history and evaluations?”

“I could not determine why, Madam President. There is a medical evaluation declaring her fit for immediate promotion, but no explanation for it. Morgan herself could not have been in any position to bribe or influence anyone with authority to make that call, but there is no trace of any patron who would have intervened on her behalf and no room in her history for such a patron to have been acquired.”

“When you said that Colonel Morgan’s history was interesting, I didn’t expect it to be quite this interesting,” Iceni commented.

“Unfortunately for Sub-Executive Roh Morgan, no ground forces commander would accept her assignment to their command because of the oddities in her record and the less-than-standard psych evals. Finally, Drakon accepted her in his command on the grounds that she deserved a chance.”

Iceni raised an eyebrow at Togo. “Is that your assessment, or do you have firm evidence that was his reasoning?”

“Drakon’s acceptance message said, ‘This officer deserves a chance to succeed.’ His decision to give her that opportunity formed the foundation for Morgan’s intense loyalty to him, though my sources say she is also now very admiring of Drakon’s skills as a leader and a combat commander.”

That was indeed intriguing. “So Colonel Morgan is actually your age?”

“She was just short of eighteen when she volunteered for the suicide mission. Chronologically, she is now older than me, Madam President. Physically, because she did not age during survival sleep, she is twenty-seven years old. She has served with Drakon for eight years now.”

What would have motivated a girl not yet eighteen years old to volunteer for a suicide mission? Iceni sighed, wondering how many girls, and boys, of similar age had died during the century of war with the Alliance. “So Morgan was already working with Drakon when Malin arrived?”

“Yes. All accounts indicate that they disliked each other intensely from the moment they first met.”

“Hate at first sight?” Yet they had both stayed with Drakon. Was he that inspiring a leader? It didn’t seem like enough of an explanation. “How are Morgan’s psych evals now?”

“Close enough to standard deviation to be judged acceptable,” Togo said.

That wasn’t exactly a ringing endorsement of someone’s stability. “Interesting. That’s more than I knew, but it leaves a lot of unanswered questions. Keep an eye out for anything else you can learn. Those two are very close to General Drakon, and understanding the why of that will help me understand General Drakon. Do you have any questions about how to handle matters while I’m gone?”

Togo hesitated. “I ask that I be permitted to accompany you, Madam President. As we have recently seen, even mobile forces units are not immune to the threat of assassins, and if someone in the military wished you ill, having you struck down while outside this star system might be seen as a means to deflect attention from the guilty party.”

She gave him an intent look. “Do you have any intelligence that something like that is planned?”

“No.”

“I have no reason to believe that anything like that is under way.” Not quite true. Not true at all, actually. But her source close to Drakon was in a position to know if Drakon made use of an in-place asset to order such a strike against her. Even Togo didn’t know about that source, though, because it was simply too important to risk compromise.

“Madam President, I do not know what General Drakon has told you—”

“I am not fool enough to base my security on what I am told by those who could threaten it,” Iceni said. “Do you have solid information, or good intelligence, indicating an active threat from that direction?”

Togo paused, then shook his head. “No, Madam President.”

“It’s your job to watch for danger to me, and you do it well. Keep doing it while I’m gone. The best service you can render me is to stay here, monitor the actions of potential threats, and help keep things running smoothly until I return.”

“Yes, Madam President.”

Something else occurred to her then, along with a measure of surprise that Togo himself hadn’t already brought it up sometime ago. “What about the search of Sub-CEO Akiri’s room and belongings? What did you find?”

Togo shook his head. “Nothing inconsistent with what was known of him, Madam President.”

“No clues as to why he was the assassin’s first target? No indication of why CEO Kolani kept him in command despite her low opinion of him?”

“No, Madam President. There was nothing to offer any explanation of either. Perhaps there was no link between those things. CEO Kolani may have enjoyed bullying Sub-CEO Akiri, and he was designated a special adviser to you, which would explain the assassin’s interest.”

Plausible. Yet… But she had no time to focus on that now. “All right. That’s all.”

After Togo had left, Iceni took a few moments that she couldn’t spare to think about his report. Drakon gave Morgan a chance when no one else would. A young woman, little more than a girl, with considerable physical and mental trauma in her recent past. I wouldn’t have given her a chance. Who would take such a risk? But Drakon did. No wonder she’s so loyal to him. No wonder his soldiers are loyal to him. He seems to care about people despite all the CEO training that he went through.

I wish I could trust that man. I think if I could ever trust Artur Drakon, I might actually come to like him.

And then he might stick a knife in my back. I’m glad Togo will be keeping an eye on him.

Sub-CEO Marphissa seemed happy to see her, but then Iceni couldn’t remember the last time one of her subordinates had been foolish enough to look unhappy at her appearance. Yes, I do. It was that executive who was skimming funds. He looked very unhappy. Not as unhappy then as he did when he was punished by being given a uniform and sent off to help in the hopeless defense of that star system near Alliance territory. Where was that again? It doesn’t matter now. All the defenders died, the Syndicate Worlds recaptured the star system eventually, and in the end the Syndicate Worlds lost the war, so it meant nothing. Something worth dying for, Drakon said. Yes. We all need that.

“You said we’d be conducting exercises, Madam President?” Marphissa asked.

“That’s correct. Are all of the ground forces soldiers aboard?”

“Yes. One squad on each of the three heavy cruisers, and the three shuttles are stowed on the exteriors of the cruisers as well. They brought a lot of equipment and supplies with them.”

“Good. We’ll head out toward one of the jump points and put the warships and soldiers through their paces to make sure everyone is still sharp and practice coordinated actions.” That was the sort of thing CEOs routinely did, making people run in circles to show they could, so no one would question it.

“Which jump point?”

Iceni settled herself in her seat on the cruiser’s bridge. Midway had a lot of jump points for other stars, eight to be exact. It was that and not population or wealth or industrial capability that gave Midway its name and made Midway a valuable and important star system. It had also earned the star system a hypernet gate, which in turn made the system even more valuable.

One of those jump points led to a star named Pele. That was the jump point the Alliance fleet had used not too long ago on its way to learn more about the alien enigma race. Except for occasional futile attempts to gain information about the enigmas, no Syndicate Worlds’ ships had made that jump for more than half a century. When the enigmas had attacked the Midway Star System, they had appeared at that jump point.

As she looked at the representation on her display of the jump point for Pele, Iceni remembered what Togo had told her concerning Colonel Morgan. Which star system had it been, she wondered, where Morgan had almost died? It struck Iceni then that Morgan’s life had been shadowed by terrible events, yet at the same time Morgan had repeatedly been so fortunate that luck alone didn’t seem enough to explain her survival until now, let alone her status with Drakon.

Have the living stars looked out for you, Colonel Morgan? But, then, why have they also been so cruel to you?

There were no answers to those questions—there were never any answers to questions like that—and Sub-CEO Marphissa was awaiting instructions. Iceni pretended to study her display for a moment, then waved in the general direction of two of the jump points, one of which led to Taroa and the other to Kane. “Head that way.”

The closest of those two jump points, that for Kane, was out past the orbit of the last planet in the star system, a frozen ball of gas and rock mockingly nicknamed Hotel for the abandoned research facility sitting vacant on it. That put it almost six and a half light-hours distant from where Iceni’s flotilla sat. At point one light, they could cover that distance in sixty-five hours, or almost three days. But charging toward the jump point at that velocity would attract attention. Was it riskier to attract that attention or to spend twice as long getting there at a more routine point zero five speed? Put that way, it didn’t seem wise to loiter on the way to the jump point. Every minute might count.

“All warships are at maximum fuel state?” Iceni asked. Her flotilla status readout showed that they were, but no one could trust those figures. Unit commanders routinely gun-decked the real numbers in order to look better. A good flotilla commander found ways to keep track of the actual data despite that.

“Yes. Ninety-eight to ninety-nine percent fuel status for all units,” Marphissa replied immediately.

“Then let’s see how well these units can sustain acceleration,” Iceni announced. “Bring formation velocity to point one light and hold it there.”

The small flotilla surged into motion as their main propulsion units lit off. Iceni watched them accelerate, her attention mainly for C-818. That heavy cruiser’s main propulsion units, badly damaged during the battle with Kolani, had just recently been declared fully repaired.

They weren’t.

“What’s the matter with C-818?” Iceni asked in a deceptively mild voice as the heavy cruiser lagged farther and farther behind the other warships.

Marphissa had already been checking the same thing. “C-818’s commander says the propulsion units are only putting out sixty percent of maximum. They were all supposedly tested at one hundred percent when repaired.”

At least they were still near the planet. Iceni called Togo. “Whoever certified the repairs on the main propulsion units on C-818 is either incompetent or corrupt. Find out who that individual was and make an example of that person.”

“How strong an example? Should I have them shot?”

She really hated finding out someone had failed totally in their responsibilities. “If it was a matter of corruption, yes. If it was incompetence, bust that person down to the lowest-level dirt sweeper.”

“Those speaking for the citizens have been agitating for the courts and legal system to become a functioning justice system,” Togo pointed out. “A summary execution might help them win wider support for that idea among the other citizens.”

Why did the simplest things have to be made difficult? “Fine. Incompetence is an internal disciplinary issue and not subject to the courts by Syndicate law, which we have yet to alter. If your investigation finds corruption instead, give the individual a quick trial, then have them shot.”

That took care of that aspect of the problem, but it didn’t help C-818. “Sub-CEO Marphissa, order C-818 to return to orbit about the planet and respond to orders from… General Drakon until I return.”

“General Drakon?” Spotting an already-annoyed Iceni’s reaction to the question, Marphissa quickly saluted. “I shall inform them of your orders immediately, Madam President.”

“And tell them to get those propulsion units fixed properly!”

“Yes, Madam President.”

Iceni glowered at her display, letting her bad mood settle around her like a dark halo. Without C-818, she had only three heavy cruisers left. There were also the four light cruisers and seven of the Hunter-Killers, but that made for a ridiculously small force to assault a battleship that might have substantial defenses and armaments already activated.

At least the HuKs sent to Taroa and Kahiki had returned in time to accompany her. If nothing else, they might provide targets for the battleship long enough for some of the other warships to get in damaging shots.

But the HuK she had sent to Lono hadn’t made it back yet, and it should have. What had happened at Lono? One more thing to worry about.

“Madam President?”

Iceni swiveled her head like a gun turret to focus on Sub-CEO Marphissa. “What?”

“Can I provide our units with an estimate for the duration of this activity?” Marphissa asked carefully.

“Is there any problem with supplies on any of the units?”

“No, Madam President. All units are prepared for extended operations.” Marphissa eyed her before adding one more thing. “All weapons are also at maximum.”

“Good.” In that respect, things were as good as they could be. And she had Marphissa to thank for keeping the warships in readiness. “You’ve done well. Effective immediately, you are confirmed as flotilla commander until further notice.”

“I—thank you, Madam President.”

Iceni found herself smiling thinly at Marphissa. “Don’t thank me until you learn what I’m going to expect of you in that position.”

Morgan strode into Drakon’s office, looking suspiciously cheerful. Before the door could close, Malin followed her. That caused Morgan’s jovial mood to dim for a moment, but then she turned a grin on Drakon. “Give the word and she’s dead.”

Drakon leaned back in his seat, taking his time replying. “President Iceni, you mean.”

“Yes, sir. I’ve got someone right next to her ready to move. We’ve even got deniability built into this. It’s sweet.”

Instead of answering her, Drakon looked at Malin.

“You need to ask yourself two questions, General,” Malin said. “First, do you trust the agent who claims to be ready to act on our behalf—”

“That agent has every reason to carry out the action!” Morgan interjected.

“—and, second but most importantly, do you want Iceni dead? What would you gain from that, and what would you lose?”

Morgan shook her head in disgust. “What would he gain? Anybody but you would already know the answer to that.”

Holding up one hand slightly to stop the arguing, Drakon shifted his gaze back to Morgan. “How certain are we of this agent?”

“I sent out feelers, the agent responded, and we did the usual dance around each other to see if our interests coincided. The agent can get right next to Iceni,” Morgan emphasized, “and if the agent was able to arrange things properly, the hit does not have to be in this star system.”

“The agent is new,” Malin said. “We don’t have much track record to go on.”

“How did you—?” Morgan glared at him. “If we wait for everything to be perfect, we’ll never move. But Iceni will. General, you know we can’t screw around indefinitely waiting for a one hundred percent chance of success.”

“That’s true,” Drakon agreed. “But the bigger question is whether I want to, and if I did want to, whether now would be the right time. I told both of you, and no one else, where Iceni is going and why. You know how important it is that the mission be successful.”

“That sub-CEO knows her job,” Morgan said. “She can do it without Iceni.”

“That is not a certainty, and Iceni has not targeted you, General,” Malin said.

“That we have determined,” Morgan snapped back at him.

“I have more confidence in you than that,” Malin told her with a cold smile. “If someone was trying to get at General Drakon, you would know.”

That compliment took Morgan aback for a moment, but she rallied quickly. “I’m not perfect. General Drakon knows better than to put total trust in anyone,” she added with a look that made it clear that the jab was aimed at Malin.

“Then why should he trust this agent? It’s an old ISS trick, General. Dangle an opportunity in front of someone, and when they take the bait, you have them. How do we know that President Iceni doesn’t want you to send that order? If you do, and this is a setup, you’ll be playing right into her hands.”

Morgan’s eyes blazed. “Are you implying that I’m working with Iceni?”

“I would not imply a charge like that. I’d make it outright if I had proof.”

“Only if my back was turned! General, I know my job. I know what the agent will do.”

Drakon closed his eyes, trying to sort out options. The bottom line is, I don’t want to kill her. Not unless I’m forced to. She’s doing a good job running her half of things and hasn’t been working to undermine me in any obvious ways. Whether she’s working in less obvious ways is another question. “No,” he finally said. “I don’t think this is the right time, the solution isn’t one I want to pursue unless it is clearly required, and I would like to have a better track record on the agent before I entrust that person with such a critical move.”

Malin tried not to look triumphant while Morgan suppressed a scowl. “But the option isn’t off the table?” she asked.

“It doesn’t hurt to have someone in that position ready to act if necessary. The capability might be very important at some point.” The identity of that individual might also prove useful if Drakon ever had to sacrifice anyone to keep Iceni convinced he was working with her. “But I’ll make the decision on whether and when it’s necessary.”

Her stateroom on the heavy cruiser was far from spacious or luxurious. Iceni sat looking around its confines, remembering her own days as a junior executive, living in quarters much smaller and more Spartan than this. You’ve become spoiled, Gwen.

Having ensured that the defenses and antisurveillance equipment built into her outfit were all working properly, Iceni called Sub-CEO Marphissa. “I need to see you.”

Marphissa arrived with gratifying haste. “Yes, Madam President?”

“Close the hatch and sit down.” Iceni waited, watching Marphissa intently, her equipment remotely analyzing the sub-CEO’s physiological status for signs of not just nervousness but also fear or outright deception. The tiny, portable equipment wasn’t nearly as effective as that inside an interrogation cell, but it provided helpful inputs to regular observations of someone. “Have you heard from General Drakon?”

The signs of nervousness shot up, but no clear signs of deception registered as Marphissa answered. “Not since we left orbit.”

“You heard from him before then?”

“Not from him. Just expanded instructions from whoever is in contact with me. I already had a code phrase that would order me to kill you at the first good opportunity. The expanded instructions added a second phrase, which would order me to wait to kill you until we were outside the star system.”

“I see.”

“I take it,” Marphissa said cautiously, “that means our current trip toward the jump points means we will actually jump for another star.”

Iceni made a noncommittal sound in reply. “But you haven’t received either code phrase?”

“No.”

Did Drakon want to kill her or not? Using Marphissa as a double agent had seemed a good way to establish Drakon’s intent, but perhaps he was just waiting for a better time. The addition of a code for killing Iceni outside the star system was particularly disturbing in light of one of Drakon’s arguments when she had spoken with him about this mission. At least the use of Marphissa ensured that Iceni would gain advance notice if an assassination was ordered while she was on a warship.

Assuming that Marphissa, who had been told to respond to the feelers from someone very close to Drakon, and to pretend to be ready to assassinate Iceni, had not turned a third time and decided to actually try to follow orders to kill. Eliminating Iceni would leave a very large vacancy in a position vastly more senior than the one Marphissa now had and would leave Marphissa in control of the mobile forces that could give her the power to claim that position. This was a delicate business, a tricky business, a confusing business. She would hate to have to order Marphissa killed. The woman had proven to be a very capable subordinate. Having to deal with such issues gave Iceni headaches at times. “Notify me immediately if you hear from General Drakon’s contact again.”

“Yes, Madam President.”

“What about Colonel Rogero? Any problems?” Rogero would make an excellent backup for Drakon if Iceni’s assassination was ordered and Marphissa didn’t succeed. An experienced soldier, loyal to Drakon, with a squad of special forces at his back. And Drakon had the perfect blackmail to use against Rogero as well.

“No problems,” Marphissa said. “He’s in one of the staterooms formerly used by the snakes, and he’s keeping to himself, but I’ve told my officers to monitor him and the ship’s systems keep me informed of his location. He’s been fairly stiff with me every time we’ve talked. I don’t think he likes mobile forces unit commanders.”

Iceni managed not to look amused. The problem is that he likes one mobile forces unit commander far too much, and she’s an enemy mobile forces unit commander. Would you kill me, Colonel Rogero, if Drakon ordered it and threatened to tell everyone about that if you didn’t? “Keep a very close eye on Colonel Rogero.”

“The ship’s systems will automatically alert you if Colonel Rogero comes within ten meters of you,” Marphissa said.

“Excellent.” On something as small as a heavy cruiser that might produce too many false alarms, but if so she could have the alert parameters changed. “Then there’s one other thing.” Iceni smiled to lower the tension. “General Drakon has suggested that I look at changing the rank titles within the mobile forces. That would make clear our break with the failed Syndicate system.”

Marphissa nodded. “No one has any love for the Syndicate command structure. We’re not working in business jobs. We’re mobile forces.”

“Exactly. I did not want to use the same titles that Drakon has adopted for his ground forces. You’re not ground forces.”

Marphissa nodded again, emphatically this time.

“I looked for a rank structure from earlier times, but not one that was the same as the Alliance now uses,” Iceni said. “I believe we need to avoid that as well.”

A third nod, very strong. “We are not a… minor subset of the Alliance.”

“I agree. Someday… well, here.” Iceni brought up a file and pivoted the display floating above her desk so that Marphissa could see it. “This is a rank structure that was once used in part of the Syndicate Worlds before all forces were unified under a single corporate system.”

Marphissa gazed at Iceni in disbelief. “The Syndicate Worlds once allowed local variations in how things were done?”

“It is hard to believe, isn’t it? That was more than a hundred and fifty years ago. These were star systems that, back then, had been absorbed into the Syndicate Worlds recently enough that they still retained some individuality.” “Absorbed” was a nice way to describe what had actually been a conquest without combat of a small group of star systems next to both Syndicate and Alliance space that had foolishly tried to stand apart from both powers. Neutrals had been low-hanging fruit in those days, and the Alliance had been eager to avoid outright fighting. If the idiots running the Syndicate Worlds hadn’t attacked the Alliance they might have been able, over time, to similarly acquire control of minor coalitions like the Rift Federation and the Callas Republic. Instead, both had ended up associating actively with the Alliance during the war. What will happen to their supposed independence now? Iceni wondered. Will the Alliance formally take them over? Surely, they wouldn’t just let them go back to acting on their own. I should ask Black Jack about that when his fleet returns. He must be the one making that decision.

Iceni raised her forefinger to point to parts of the display. “As flotilla commander, you will be Kommodor Marphissa. Depending on their seniority, their sub-CEO or executive rank, individual warship commanders will be Kapitan First, Second, or Third rank, and below that the lower executives and subexecutives will be Kapitan-Leytenant, then Leytenant, and Leytenant Second rank, and, finally, the most junior will be Ships Officers.”

“I think this change will be welcomed,” Marphissa said. “It’s good that it’s not the same as that of the Alliance and is also different from the structure put into place by General Drakon. The mobile forces, I mean the warships, will like being distinct in that way.”

“Is any part of the new rank structure unclear?” Iceni asked.

“Is there no rank above Kommodor?”

Iceni laughed. “You’re already worried about that? Atmiral.”

“Atmiral,” Marphissa murmured, as if trying on the title.

“We need a few more warships before there will be any call for an Atmiral, Kommodor Marphissa.”

They were thirty light-minutes from the jump point for Kane. Iceni, seated on the bridge of the heavy cruiser, turned to Marphissa. “Kommodor, take the flotilla to the jump point for Kane and order all units to be prepared for action upon exit at Kane.”

“Kane?” Marphissa asked, plainly having expected Taroa. “Is there an estimate of what we may face there?”

“I will brief you when we have entered jump.”

That left five hours at point one light speed. Iceni stayed on the bridge, watching her display where the warships, moving at about thirty thousand kilometers a second, crawled across the vast distances inside a star system. At the same velocity, a journey to the nearest star, Laka, would require nearly twenty-five years.

The old and proven jump technology would allow the flotilla to reach Kane in about six days, though, taking a shortcut through a still-poorly-understood dimension in which distances were much shorter.

As they finally approached the jump point, Marphissa looked at Iceni. “Permission to proceed with jump to Kane?”

“Permission granted. All units are to be at combat readiness status one when we exit at Kane.”

“Yes, Madam President.” Marphissa passed along those orders to the other warships with them, then ordered the jump.

Iceni felt the odd twisting as the endless bright stars against an eternity of black space vanished. In their place, the outside views now showed the monotonous, dull nothingness of jump space. Though human ships had been transiting jump space for centuries, it had never been explored because there was no known way to explore it. Ships could not deviate from their paths between the small areas in space called jump points where jump space could be accessed from normal space. Human sensors could detect nothing except the gray void.

And the lights. As Iceni watched, one of the mysterious lights of jump space bloomed ahead. No one had ever learned what those lights were, what caused them, or what they meant, if anything. There were rumors and superstitions, of course. When Iceni was in normal space or on a planet, she inwardly mocked those who thought the lights were signs of some powerful otherness watching humanity. But when in jump space, a region where no human really belonged, Iceni always felt a chill inside when she saw one, as if she were gazing on something whose face could not be comprehended by the human mind. At such times her father’s old stories of the living stars seemed to have extra force.

There was also no way to send messages between warships, or any means of communication with the regular universe. Secrets could not be compromised. “Kommodor, it is time to discuss our mission.”

To her credit, the new kommodor took the news without flinching. “A battleship?”

“Yes.”

Marphissa made an uncertain gesture. “This should be… interesting.”

“Yes,” Iceni repeated, hoping that it wouldn’t be too interesting.

Six days later, the heavy cruiser at full combat alert and Marphissa looking fiercely determined, the flotilla prepared to exit at Kane. “If the battleship is combat ready and anywhere near that jump point,” she commented to Iceni, “then the result will be a short battle indeed.”

“Are you ready to find out, Kommodor?” Iceni asked, trying to look and sound completely confident.

“Yes, Madam President.”

The gray nothingness of jump space was replaced by stars and blackness, Iceni struggling to overcome the effects of exiting jump so she could focus eyes and mind on her display and learn what awaited them at Kane.