“Why?” Iceni asked the question of the entire command center. “What’s the point? What can they do?”
The supervisor, forced by his position to be the one to answer, faltered out a reply. “I . . . I don’t know, Madam President.”
Iceni spun to face Drakon. “Mobile forces cannot stop a bombardment. It’s too hard a problem for the fire control systems. What are those ships doing?”
Colonel Malin answered. “Those aren’t our ships. They’re not Alliance ships. They’re not human ships. Maybe they can do something ours can’t.”
Every eye stayed on the display as the six ships swooped down on the bombardment projectiles, sliding into position directly behind them in a maneuver that brought a gasp of admiration from Iceni and several others in the command center. The mystery ships began firing, somehow scoring hits, blows that did not destroy the solid metal bombardment projectiles but did divert their paths, sending them on courses that would never reach this planet.
Drakon watched, impressed even though he didn’t understand the magnitude of the achievement, as the bombardment was diverted projectile by projectile. But he did note that the rate of success kept dropping as the bombardment pulled away from the six ships.
Finally, only one projectile remained on course for this world. Shots from the six ships blasted toward it again and again, with no results. Drakon began trying to calculate how much damage that one object would do when it struck this planet. “Any guesses?” he asked Malin and Morgan, both of whom shook their heads.
“It depends too much on where it hits,” Malin explained.
The firing stopped. Drakon heard a vast sigh fill the command center as everyone at once seemed to let out disappointed breaths. To come so close to total success and not achieve it . . . But he couldn’t complain, not when a planet-killing bombardment had been reduced to one rock that might be devastating but not a total disaster. “If you two have decided to start following orders again, calculate the trajectory on that rock and try to get an estimate of where it will hit,” he ordered Morgan and Malin. “We need to—”
The six ships had fired again, a single volley.
Instead of reporting success, the supervisor sobbed with relief.
Iceni looked ready to reprimand him, then smiled and took a long, slow breath herself. “I don’t know where they came from, I don’t know what they are, but we are amazingly lucky that they were here.”
“Perhaps it wasn’t luck,” Malin said. He had a calculating expression on his face as he eyed the depictions of the six strange ships.
Drakon glanced at Morgan for her reaction and saw the exact same expression on her face. “What do you think?”
Morgan grinned, all of her usual cockiness back. “We need what they’ve got.”
“Don’t start planning a boarding operation.”
“And victory celebrations may be a bit premature,” Malin added. “A second group of enigmas has launched a bombardment.”
Drakon muttered a curse, swiveling to look at the display. Sure enough, the group headed for the gas giant had unleashed projectiles aimed at the mobile forces facility and the battleship still present there. “We need that thing to move.”
“We couldn’t send an order in time for it to be received,” Iceni corrected him. “Whatever has happened, has already happened. Kapitan-Leytenant Kontos has shown some remarkable abilities in the past. I am sure he will realize the need to move that battleship before the bombardment reaches it. Kommodor Marphissa could not reach those enigma ships in time to stop their launch, but she will prevent them from doing more damage.”
But, within moments, Iceni’s surface serenity cracked. “What is he doing?”
Drakon squinted at the display, trying to understand what was happening. “The battleship has lit off its main propulsion.”
“But it is still fastened to the mobile forces facility! It will rip the dock free and possibly damage the battleship as well to no purpose!” Iceni’s opinion of Kapitan-Leytenant Kontos appeared to have undergone a radical change.
But as minutes went past, Iceni’s expression shifted again, to incomprehension. “According to the data feed from the battleship, he’s got his main propulsion going at almost full, but he’s still tied to the facility. How is that possible?”
“The entire facility is moving,” the command center supervisor reported helpfully.
“I can see that!” Iceni seethed. “Why isn’t it coming apart under the strain? What the hell is Kontos doing?”
As if in answer to her, a transmission came in showing Kapitan-Leytenant Kontos on the bridge of the battleship Midway. As usual, the youthful Kontos showed an unruffled attitude despite the dire situation. “To President Iceni. When the alien force appeared in this star system, it occurred to me that there might be a need to protect this facility from the usual form of attack. Therefore, I ordered the shipyard workers to immediately begin reinforcing the battleship’s ties to the facility, using all available means. They have worked steadily, and are still working to bolster those areas as I seek to use Midway’s propulsion to pull the facility out of the way of the incoming bombardment. I believe we have a reasonable chance of success. I have informed Kommodor Marphissa of my actions as well. If we are successful in avoiding the bombardment, I will report on the outcome. For the people, Kontos, out.”
“He’s crazy,” somebody whispered clearly enough to be heard in the hushed command center.
“It might work,” the supervisor suggested.
Iceni looked as if she might explode. “He’s risking the battleship . . . my battleship . . . on a harebrained scheme that can’t possibly—”
“Madam President?” a specialist asked with equal parts hesitancy and daring. “Projections are that the mobile forces facility will just clear the bombardment area.”
“What? Are you certain?”
“From the data feeds we are getting, the known mass of the facility, and the performance data on the battleship’s main propulsion, yes, Madam President.”
Iceni stared at the display, wordless now, as the mobile forces facility and the battleship towing it moved with agonizing slowness away from the danger zone. The enigma bombardment arrived, zipping very close past the edge of the mobile forces facility before skipping across the gas giant’s atmosphere and zooming off into empty space.
“Colonel Rogero told me Kontos was good,” Drakon remarked.
“Yes,” Iceni agreed, her voice not quite steady yet. “He has a great future. If I don’t kill him first.”
“There’s one group left,” Morgan interceded, as they watched Kommodor Marphissa’s flotilla moving to intercept the enigmas who had attacked the mobile forces facility. “The one heading for the gate.”
Drakon eyed them sourly. “The mysterious six ships saved us from the first group, Kapitan-Leytenant Kontos saved us from the second with some help from Kommodor Marphissa when she catches those enigmas, and now we have to depend on CEO Boyens to save us from the third.”
“Well, we’ve already seen at least one miracle today,” Iceni replied. “Maybe a second or third isn’t too much to hope for.”
As it turned out, the last group of enigma warships broke off their attack and headed for the jump point for Pele at the best speed they could, which was considerable. “They’ve had enough,” Drakon observed. He had seen that often enough with human combatants. There always came a point when the will to fight faltered and failed. The better the fighters, the longer it took to reach that point, but sooner or later almost any force would break if subjected to enough damage. Whatever else was true of the enigmas, they were like humanity in that respect as well. There was some comfort in knowing that.
Knowing things. He looked at Black Jack’s fleet, which had gone into enigma-controlled space and come back again, accompanied by the mysterious six ships as well as the massive ship being towed
by Alliance battleships. “How much do you think he’ll tell us of what he’s learned?”
Iceni shook her head. “I can’t guess. He may demand a price for what he has learned.”
“What price? We don’t have a lot.”
“I don’t know.” But Iceni seemed worried, and Morgan bent a smirk her way as if Morgan knew the answer.
“We probably ought to say something to him,” Drakon commented.
“Yes. Let’s do it formally.” Iceni led him back to the private office, where he once again sat beside her. “What do you wish to say?”
What did he want to say? Drakon glanced unobtrusively at Malin, who just as subtly communicated a suggestion to defer to Iceni. All right. Better to be quiet than to sound stupid. “I’ll leave this one to you,” he told Iceni. “We do need to tell Black Jack that we’re not on good terms with Boyens and his flotilla.”
“Of course. If we can get Black Jack to commit to us, CEO Boyens won’t have a chance. Anything else?”
“No. I just want to make sure Black Jack sees us together so he knows we’re jointly deciding on whatever is said.”
Iceni inclined her head toward Drakon, then faced the pickup and gestured for the transmission to start. “We are in your debt again, Admiral Geary. I don’t know the nature of your allies, but we owe them an immense debt as well.
“My warships will engage the enigmas heading for my battleship. I cannot control the actions of the flotilla near the hypernet gate. Do not trust that the flotilla there will act in our interest, Admiral. CEO Boyens, their commander, is known to you. If you make your orders clear to him, he may hesitate to act contrary to them. It is essential that Boyens understands that he is not in control of this star system and does not dictate what will happen here. For the people, Iceni, out.”
She relaxed, then noticed Drakon looking at her. “Did I say something inappropriate?”
He motioned to Malin, indicating he should leave, then waited until the door sealed again before answering Iceni. “My battleship? My warships?”
“I said my? I thought I said our.”
“No.” A small thing, but also a clear unilateral claim on the most powerful military assets in this star system. Drakon realized that he was galled by recent events, that he had been forced to sit by with his soldiers and watch others defend and save Midway Star System. I know ground forces couldn’t have done anything against those threats. But it still annoys the hell out of me that her warships, and Black Jack’s, did all the heavy lifting.
Iceni tapped one finger on the table several times, watching it as if the gesture required concentration. “If that’s a concern, then I will modify the description of the forces when next I speak of them.” She looked over at him again, showing Drakon a poker face that left him wondering what Iceni was really feeling.
“Fine. As long as it is clear I have an equal level of control here.”
“That has never been in question.” Iceni locked her eyes on his. “General Drakon, we cannot afford to mistake who our allies are.”
“Gwen . . . I regret our earlier misunderstanding.”
“You mean when your officer threatened me?”
Iceni obviously wasn’t going to make this easy. “It won’t happen again. I’m going to make certain of that.”
She looked carefully at the security lights glowing above the doorway, ensuring that no one could overhear their conversation. “Artur, the only way to be certain that officer does not act that way again is to get rid of her. You know that as well as I do.”
“If you knew her history—” Drakon began stubbornly.
“I do know her history.”
That shouldn’t have been a surprise despite the highly classified nature of Morgan’s early record. Iceni had done her homework. “Morgan had some bad breaks. If she couldn’t do her job, that wouldn’t serve as an excuse. But the fact is that she does get the job done. She found that snake agent in the command center way before anyone else.”
Iceni leaned back, frowning at him. “It could have been a setup. The snakes still in hiding in this star system would have known we were closing in on that agent. They could have leaked that information to Morgan.”
“Why?”
“To deflect suspicion from her.”
Drakon had to pause, momentarily at a loss for words. “Gwen, seriously, if you knew more about Morgan, you’d know that’s impossible. She really, truly, hates the snakes. She also hates the Syndicate. They messed her up, and while she won’t admit that, Morgan wants revenge.”
Iceni pursed her lips, thinking. “Confirm my data. She was messed up as you put it by mental conditioning for a suicide mission into enigma space when she was barely eighteen.”
“Right. She spent about twenty years frozen in survival sleep, inside a hollowed-out asteroid headed for an enigma-occupied world. She, and the others in the mission, were supposed to be awakened just before atmospheric entry, reach the surface, and send back whatever information they could before the enigmas killed them. But the mission got canceled when the leading asteroids were destroyed by the enigmas, and Morgan and one other soldier were recovered to try to find out how their presence had been compromised to the enigmas.”
“That matches,” Iceni said. Whatever she was thinking was once again hidden behind her eyes. “Chronologically, she’s twice her apparent age.”
“Yeah. Biologically, she’s about the same age as Malin. Not that either of them finds that a basis for getting along.”
Iceni shook her head. “I can’t tell you how to run your own staff. But I can tell you that she is, in my opinion, dangerous.”
“You think she’s a threat to me?” Drakon asked.
“Yes,” Iceni replied, surprising him. “Don’t get your back up until you hear me out. I do not believe that Colonel Morgan would intentionally do you harm. She has an intense loyalty toward you. What you ought to be worried about is where that loyalty could lead her, what actions she might take in the belief that they are in your best interests.”
My best interests? Where have I heard that before? Drakon wondered.
Taroa. Morgan said exactly that. “General Drakon, everything I do is in your best interests.” Even at the time he had wondered what that might mean.
But that it might constitute a threat to him? Morgan had her quirks, but she never would have gotten that medical waiver if she wasn’t stable enough to meet Syndicate standards. Granted that Syndicate standards could be elastic, but they left no room for loose cannons who didn’t have an important patron supporting them. And Morgan had not had any such patron.
Nonetheless, Drakon could understand Iceni’s grounds for concern. “All right. I will ensure that Morgan knows that if anything happens to you, or to anyone else without my very clear and specific orders, all of her past service to me won’t save her from the consequences.”
Her eyes searched his for a long moment before Iceni replied. “This is a dilemma. I like you because you don’t cast aside people who become inconvenient. But that character trait also makes life more difficult for me. Very well. Warn her. I’ll be watching her.”
“So will I,” Drakon said. He gave her a skeptical look. “You like me?”
Iceni sighed and spread her hands. “A little. Is that so unusual?”
“As a matter of fact, yes.” He smiled deprecatingly. “I’m not easy.”
“And I’m not cheap,” Iceni said, a momentary smile appearing, then vanishing again. “There’s work I should be doing.”
“Me, too.” Don’t trust, don’t get too close, don’t mix your job and personal issues, never, ever, make the mistake of letting down your guard because of personal feelings. The old warnings, which had saved him more than once while climbing the ranks of the Syndicate hierarchy, echoed in Drakon’s head as they left the office.
But, dammit, I like her, too. A littl
e.
“I reviewed the interrogation of the snake agent done by President Iceni’s personnel,” Colonel Malin reported. “I conducted my own as well. I agree with the results given to you. This particular snake agent knows nothing of use to us. Her disposal is awaiting your approval.”
Drakon sat back in his chair, in his office, grateful to be back in his own headquarters complex, surrounded by people whose loyalty to him was beyond question. He ran Malin’s last words through his mind again while Malin waited patiently, standing in the respectful and almost-at-attention posture that seemed the most casual attitude that he ever took toward Drakon.
“Disposal.” That was one of the official and accepted Syndicate terms for executing someone. Dispose of the prisoners. How many times have I heard that? Drakon wondered.
He hated the word. He had hated it for a very long time.
But, exact wording aside, the woman’s fate didn’t have any room for debate. She had worked for the snakes. She had claimed, and the interrogation had borne out, that she had been blackmailed into cooperation by threats to her family, but that made no difference. She could expect no mercy even from her former coworkers. Letting her go was simply impossible.
And yet Drakon felt a strange reluctance to order her “disposal.” “What about President Iceni? Has she given orders about the prisoner?”
“Her office approved disposal, General.”
“President Iceni approved disposal, or her office approved disposal?” Drakon demanded.
Malin paused. “Sir, I will have to check on whether the President personally approved the decision.”
Did something this routine fall under his agreement with Iceni? Probably. She should have coordinated with him before approving killing the agent. Especially since there was no need to rush the execution. But why delay it? It would be different if the snake agent was still of some use . . .
Drakon felt himself smiling. “Colonel Malin, suppose we kept her alive?”
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