His hand moved to indicate the shapes of the human warships shown elsewhere on the display, sharklike hulls varying from the slim Hunter-Killers and light cruisers to the beefier heavy cruisers. At the gas giant, the battleship Midway rested at the space dock like a much more massive, chunkier version of the heavy cruisers. “Why don’t the enigmas have battleships?” Drakon continued. “Their largest ships aren’t much bigger than our heavy cruisers.”
“Their ships are more maneuverable than ours,” Iceni replied. “And our least maneuverable ships are the battleships because of all the armor, shield generators, and weapons they carry. They’re slow to accelerate and slow to brake and take a very wide radius to change vectors. That sort of sluggish ship may be incompatible with how the enigmas fight.”
“But what about battle cruisers?” Drakon asked. “Aren’t those pretty maneuverable?”
“Yes. Very swift because they have the propulsion of a battleship but not nearly as much armor and significantly less weaponry and shield strength.” Iceni shook her head, looking at the enigma ships. “I don’t know why the enigmas don’t have anything as large as one of our battle cruisers. Maybe Black Jack found out the answer to that.”
Drakon’s expression hardened. “While he was getting his fleet blown away and stirring up the enigmas to attack us again, you mean?”
She found herself defending the Alliance admiral despite how absurd the idea would have been less than a year ago. “We don’t know if the enigmas would have come back anyway. And we don’t know that Black Jack’s fleet was destroyed.”
Malin frowned as he received a report over his link, then faced Drakon. “General, one of our satellites brushed against the edge of a tight-beam communication from this planet aimed toward the Syndicate flotilla.”
She should pretend to be focusing her suspicions elsewhere, but Iceni couldn’t help herself. Her eyes went to Drakon, and found him looking at her. Did you send that transmission? their eyes challenged each other.
Drakon shook his head in answer to the unspoken question. “The snakes must still have agents active on this planet,” he said.
“Yes,” Iceni agreed. “The transmission did not originate from any source known to me. Did we get the origin of the beam localized?”
“No, Madam President,” Malin replied. “The contact was too fleeting, then the beam cut off. It was a burst transmission, so whoever it was could have sent an encyclopedia of information in the brief time it was active.”
“We should still be able to get some indication of where it came from,” Morgan insisted.
Malin gave her a bland look. “Initial analysis narrowed it down to this half of this hemisphere of this planet.”
“And I suppose you’re happy with that level of incompetence?” Morgan said, her tone growing fiercer.
“I’m willing to accept real-world limitations but have no intention of being satisfied with this level of analysis,” Malin replied, maintaining that indifferent expression, doubtless knowing it would further provoke Morgan.
Drakon made a small gesture, and both colonels fell silent even though Morgan had clearly been ready to fire another verbal volley. “I want you two to check the data the satellite picked up. Do it independently and see if either of you can get a better idea of the signal’s location of origin.”
Both officers saluted, Malin returning to a nearby terminal and Morgan walking quickly out of the command center.
“What?” Drakon asked, having noticed how Iceni was regarding him.
“I watched how you handled that,” Iceni said. “I admit I wonder why you keep those two as assistants despite their unquestioned individual skills. But then I saw how you can use their rivalry. If anyone can narrow down the place where that signal originated, it will be one of those two because they’re very good at what they do, and neither one wants the other to succeed where they have failed.”
“That’s pretty much the idea,” Drakon agreed. “They also backstop me and each other. If there’s a flaw in my plans or thinking, one of them will spot it and tell me before the other does. If one of them is missing something, the other will catch it. It makes for some drama, but they both know when to knock it off.”
“Do they?” Iceni asked.
Perhaps something about her tone made it clear she was referring to Morgan because Drakon reddened slightly. “No one is perfect,” he muttered, before turning to study the main display intently.
Iceni wondered if he was talking about Morgan, himself, or her. Had Drakon’s words been an oblique apology, a criticism of her, or a defiant defense of himself?
Why do I care? It’s not like there aren’t much more important things to worry about.
On the display, the Syndicate flotilla and the enigma attack force remained passive, giving no clues as to their intentions. It was very odd how hard it could be to deal with a lack of action.
TWENTY-ONE hours after the arrival of the enigma force, new alerts sounded in the command center. On this part of the planet, it was nearly midnight, but Iceni took only moments to reach the main room, finding Drakon already there.
“What is it?” she asked, trying to reconcile the symbols appearing on the display with her own expectations. But those symbols stubbornly refused to make sense until Drakon suddenly laughed harshly.
“Your hero Black Jack is back.”
She blinked, the symbols abruptly reordering themselves in her mind and finally becoming clear. “The Alliance fleet. The enigmas didn’t destroy it after all.”
“They took out a big chunk of it,” Drakon growled, one hand waving toward the display. “All I’m seeing is battle cruisers, light cruisers, and destroyers, and those numbers are down from what Black Jack left here with.”
Iceni stared, her eyes running from totals to individual ship symbols. “None of the battleships? None of the heavy cruisers? The enigmas hurt that fleet badly.”
Drakon frowned. “How could a mobile force lose just the battleships and heavy cruisers in total?”
“If they needed to escape,” Iceni explained in a voice she could tell had gone cold, her memory conjuring up dark recollections of some events she had witnessed during her time serving with the Syndicate mobile forces. “The battleships are slower, but massive. They form a rear guard, holding off pursuit. In the worst case, they sacrifice themselves so swifter ships can escape to fight another day. I suppose the heavy cruisers stayed with the battleships.”
“Damn.” The one word from Drakon fell heavily, carrying a weight of meaning. “I know how that works in the ground forces. It’s a very hard thing to demand of people, to tell them to fight to the death so others can get away.”
Iceni shook her head, her eyes still on the display. “Their auxiliaries aren’t here, either.”
“Auxiliaries?”
“The repair ships the Alliance uses to accompany their fleets. And the troop transports they had aren’t here, either. The enigmas must have gotten them, too, because they weren’t swift enough to escape.”
“Is it possible,” Drakon asked, “that we’re interpreting this wrong?”
“There’s a way to check.” Iceni took a few steps toward the primary control console. “Give us close-up views of those Alliance ships,” she ordered the operator.
Large virtual windows appeared before her and Drakon, in which every detail of the far-distant ships could be plainly seen. Those ships were four and a half light-hours away, having arrived at the same jump point from which the enigmas had come. Each light-hour was a bit more than a billion kilometers, making the distance to those ships over four and a half billion kilometers. But optics in orbit around this world could see across space with crystal-clear precision. Every detail on the Alliance warships stood out cleanly; so sharp were the images that it was difficult to remember that what they were seeing was light from such distant objects.
“Look
at the damage visible on many of those ships,” Iceni pointed out. “They’ve seen hard fighting.” She paused. “Let’s see where they go. Where they went,” she amended. They were seeing the Alliance ships as they had been four and a half hours before now. What had they done afterward? Had Black Jack taken the remnants of his fleet on a swift course for the hypernet gate and a swift journey home? Or would the Alliance warships aim for one of the other jump points that Midway boasted? If they headed for the hypernet gate, they would have to get past the enigmas—“That’s what they’ve been waiting for.”
“What’s that?” Drakon asked.
“The enigmas,” Iceni explained. “You were right. They were waiting for Black Jack. They’re sitting between the jump point for Pele and our hypernet gate. In order for the Alliance fleet to reach the gate, they’ll have to fight their way past the enigmas.”
“The enigmas knew Black Jack’s ships were coming.” Drakon nodded slowly. “They want to finish him off before they engage us. But according to the vectors that display is showing, the Alliance ships are heading straight for the enigmas. They want to fight.”
“If they’re running for home, that doesn’t make much sense, does it? No one ever accused the Alliance fleet of being crewed by cowards, though.”
“No.” Drakon’s eyes had taken on that distant look he acquired when seeing memories rather than what was happening now. “Their ground forces weren’t cowards, either, no matter what Syndicate propaganda claimed. This fleet may have been cut to pieces, but it’s not beaten.” He looked directly at her, eyes now focused intently. “Do we help them?”
“We don’t have much to help them with.” Iceni knew she was dodging the real issue.
Colonel Malin had shown up and now stated that issue directly. “If we choose to assist Black Jack’s fleet in its fight, the gesture will have immense symbolic value. Black Jack will know we stood with him even when the odds were poor. If we stay out of the fight, if we wait to see what happens, that will have immense symbolic value as well, but in a very negative way in the eyes of Black Jack.”
She knew Malin was right, yet she hesitated. I have so few warships to call on. Committing them to this battle might lose them all, and my few cruisers and Hunter-Killers will not tilt the balance in the fight between Black Jack and the enigmas. Moreover, the last twenty-one hours, spent waiting impotently for the enigmas to strike and destroy the human presence at this star, emphasized in the clearest possible way that I cannot afford to depend upon the Alliance to save the day.
Even if we pursue the idea of working with Taroa to get that second battleship finished, it will be several months before it could be available. We need our own ships. But if I don’t risk them, I may lose the most important ally in human-occupied space.
Drakon most likely understood her dilemma because after a few moments, he spoke with measured emphasis. “If we move to aid Black Jack, we might win. If we do nothing, we lose no matter who wins when Black Jack fights the enigmas.”
She didn’t answer, looking down, fighting her own battle against the need to make a decision that could decide everything after it. The safer course would be to wait. Wait like CEO Boyens was doing. There was no doubt of that.
Safer in the very short run.
She could have waited before launching her plans to rebel against the Syndicate government. She could have rebuffed Drakon’s feelers as premature and avoided doing anything that could have condemned her in the eyes of the ISS snakes. And when the snakes got the orders to haul in system CEOs for loyalty checks, as they did, she would have been helpless.
There were times when even an insane risk formed the best option.
“You’re right,” she told Drakon. “Black Jack will not forgive us if we sit out this fight.” Iceni gestured to the command center supervisor. “I need communications to Kommodor Marphissa on the cruiser Manticore.”
It took only a couple of seconds before the supervisor saluted Iceni. “We are ready to transmit, Madam President.”
In her mind’s eye, Iceni could see Marphissa on the bridge of Manticore, the Kommodor doing her best to project determination and courage to a crew that had doubtless grown unhappier with every minute spent evaluating the odds against them. How had they reacted at the sight of the Alliance fleet, a force the habits of their entire lifetimes told them was just as much an enemy as the enigmas? “Kommodor,” Iceni said, “you are to change course as necessary to proceed with your flotilla on a vector to join with and assist the forces of . . .” She had been about to say the forces of the Alliance. But that wouldn’t do. Not even now, when those Alliance forces were fighting a mutual enemy. A century of war, a century of hate, could not be so easily cast aside. “Assist the forces commanded by Black Jack, which are acting in defense of this star system. You are to respond to any commands given by Black Jack as long as they do not conflict with your responsibilities to me.
“For the people. This is President Iceni, out.”
It was only after the words were out of her mouth that Iceni realized she had emphasized the phrase “for the people” rather than mouthing it like the meaningless phrase it had long been. Since the rebellion led by Iceni and Drakon, there had been a change in the way many at Midway spoke those words. People who actually took the words “for the people” seriously were well motivated, but they also might decide that “the people” would benefit best from different leaders. And yet I also just said them as if the words had meaning. Was Marphissa right? Are the attitudes of my workers rubbing off on me?
Drakon was eyeing her but saying nothing. She could tell what he was thinking, though. “I was just motivating Kommodor Marphissa in the most effective manner,” she muttered in a voice so low only Drakon could hear. “That strong-horse thing you talked about.”
He was wise enough simply to nod in reply.
Iceni stood looking across the command center, trying to assess an alteration in the feeling of the place. Something had changed here. The fear, the anxiety which since the arrival of Boyens’s flotilla and the enigmas had ruled under the surface of the workers’ stoic façades, had given way to something else. Worry was still there, but also a strange sort of resolve that Iceni was not used to sensing in the workers around her.
Colonel Malin spoke softly. “The Alliance is here. They don’t want to look bad in front of the Alliance. Those in the ground forces and the mobile forces have often felt that way, but the average citizen, the average worker, has not. You have given them much more pride in themselves and in what they do, Madam President. With the Alliance watching, they will not falter.”
“Too bad I didn’t think of such motivational factors before,” Iceni replied dryly in the same low tones. Actually, I did. But the Syndicate system wouldn’t let me try such experiments. Better the universe crumble than anyone do anything that might compromise the subservience of the workers.
“We should send a message to Black Jack,” Drakon broke in. “You and I.”
“Both of us, this time?” Iceni asked.
“Yes.”
“All right. Let’s send this one from the private office.”
Drakon walked with her to the office, waiting until the door closed behind the two of them before speaking again. “You gave in on that pretty easily.”
“Did I? It made sense for me alone to speak to the enigmas because I’ve done that before, and you haven’t. But you have a right to demand to speak with Geary alongside me.” And even though I would never say so, for all of my independence I don’t mind at all sharing my current burdens a little with someone who has yet to openly betray me.
“I almost demanded to speak with Boyens the same way. But Boyens is used to you as top CEO in this star system,” Drakon said, “so I didn’t object to your speaking to him alone, either.”
Iceni faced Drakon, her eyes on his. “General Drakon, it has been clear to me from the first time we me
t that you think of yourself as military. You wore your mandatory CEO suit as if it were an instrument of humiliation and punishment.”
“I didn’t think it was that obvious,” Drakon said.
“No more so than the average pulsar blanketing the surrounding light-years with radiation. I understand that when dealing with another military leader, you wish to present yourself as coequal with me. It matters to you that Black Jack understands you have as large a role as I do.” She smiled crookedly. “That is what you’re thinking, isn’t it? Because if you want to present yourself as being in charge, we’re going to have to debate that.”
Drakon shrugged. “Coequal is fine. It has been from the first. You’re right. I want Black Jack to know more of who I am. If half of what we’ve heard about him is true, he’s someone I would like to meet in person.”
“You’ll have to settle for long-range communications,” Iceni said, gesturing to the desk. “We’ll sit side by side to emphasize—”
Malin burst into the room. Iceni could see Togo just beyond him, ready to act if Malin threatened her. But the colonel just spoke with unusual rapidity. “General, there’s been another arrival in this star system.”
Drakon frowned as Malin hesitated. “Who?” he demanded. “More Syndicate forces? More enigmas? More Alliance ships?”
“No, sir.”
“No, sir, what?”
Malin shook his head, looking bewildered. “The new arrivals are not Alliance or enigma or Syndicate. They do not match anything we’ve ever seen.” He moved to the desk’s display controls and brought up the images. “There are six of them. Whatever they are.”
Iceni stared, aware of Drakon watching her for some sign of recognition. “What’s the scale?” she demanded of Malin, who made the adjustment while Togo stood nearby, glowering at the colonel who was usurping Togo’s rightful role as Iceni’s assistant.
Perilous Shield Page 5
