“Supreme CEO Haris, yes,” Iceni confirmed. “Why does that concern you so much? Is he a friend of yours?”
“Haris? The only friends Haris cultivates are those that can help him gain a promotion.” Boyens grimaced, running one hand through his hair. “But he’s not really Supreme CEO. I mean, he didn’t come up with that title. The snakes did.”
“The snakes?” Iceni felt a chill run down her spine. “Haris is acting under orders?”
“That’s right. He didn’t really claim any autonomy. It’s all theater. Haris is just as much a part of the Syndicate ISS as he always was.” Boyens leaned forward, his expression urgent. “The Syndicate has reinforcements ready to commit to Ulindi. I don’t know what those reinforcements are or how many there are. It was all within snake channels, and I couldn’t risk snooping into those very much. But Haris has more firepower than you think he does.”
Iceni cupped her chin with one hand as she studied Boyens. All of the interrogation-cell indicators glowed green, so either Boyens was amazingly talented at fooling interrogation gear or he truly believed what he was telling her. “We had some very good preoperational surveillance,” Iceni finally said. “It didn’t spot those reinforcements that you are claiming exist.”
“It wouldn’t! Nothing at Ulindi has any records of that! There are total cutouts between Ulindi and the rest of the Syndicate, just as if Haris had really broken off from the Syndicate. But any ISS sources left at Midway who spotted any of your preparations to hit Ulindi would have passed information back to the snakes, and the snakes would have timed reinforcements to get to Ulindi and hammer whatever you sent. Given the time lag involved in passing information, your sources at Ulindi wouldn’t have been able to get word back here of the reinforcements arriving at Ulindi before your attack force left.”
Boyens held both of his hands before him, palms turned toward her, his voice pleading. “Look, I know you have reason to be skeptical of me. But I don’t want you and Drakon to be crushed, and I know you guys can’t afford to lose a big chunk of what forces you have. I’m telling you that whatever you sent to Ulindi isn’t going to be enough. Your attack force is walking into a trap.”
ICENI shook her head, maintaining an impassive expression despite the riot of emotions inside her. “Ulindi is a trap? Why should I believe you?”
“Because—” Boyens broke off and laughed in a sad way. “Because I want to work the angles, the options, Gwen. That’s me, right? And I can’t work options if there aren’t any options. You see? Right now, and as far as I can tell, you and Artur Drakon are the only alternative to the Syndicate that has a chance out here. There are other star systems revolting against the Syndicate in other nearby regions, but I don’t know the people or the exact situations in those places, and a lot of them are just going to hell as different factions fight for control. If the Syndicate regains enough strength, it will roll up each of those other star systems. If the Syndicate just keeps trying to regain control of them, the back-and-forth struggles are likely to devastate those places no matter who ultimately wins.”
Boyens spread his hands and smiled ruefully. “I don’t want to gain temporary power over ruins. Hell, I don’t want ruins. I won’t lie. I want power, I want a secure position of authority. Look around, Gwen. Where do you see security and stability? Here. Not on Prime, where the knives are out, the CEOs are busy stabbing their rivals, and the snakes are getting rid of anyone who looks strong enough to threaten them. Imagine having Happy Hua at your back, ready to strike if you fail too badly or if you succeed too well. I don’t know how you and Artur figured out how to work together, but between that, breaking the snakes’ power here, Black Jack’s support, and the forces you’ve managed to accumulate, you’ve got a real chance.”
“You’re acting purely out of self-interest, then?” Iceni asked. “You believe that we represent your best chance to get what you want?”
“Damn right.”
“That I can believe.” Iceni paused to think through her options.
“You’ve got to send a ship after your attack force,” Boyens urged. “Recall them before it’s too late.”
“It’s already too late. By the time any warning I send could reach Ulindi, the ground forces will have already landed. I need to send some reinforcements to even the odds.”
“Reinforcements?” Boyens looked around as if he could see through the walls confining him. “What have you got that could make a difference?”
“I’m going to find out,” Iceni said, hoping that she could come up with something big enough to make a difference. “Damn you! If Artur Drakon dies because you withheld this information until now, I promise you that you will die as well, and it will not be an easy death!”
—
THE training area was well out in the country, far from the city, along routes normally traveled only by military vehicles. It had taken Roh Morgan far too long to cross that distance without being spotted, only to encounter a newly expanded and reinforced sensor field surrounding the training area. She was tempted to turn back at that point but realized that she had to know what all of those sensors were protecting. It had to be something significant.
The sensors were the latest models, the most sensitive yet created, but that was all to the good as far as Morgan was concerned. The more sensitive the sensor, the more it had to be adjusted and calibrated to ignore the presence and movements of native animals, birds, and insects as well as the movements of vegetation in the wind. With the right clothing and the right ways of moving, someone could mimic those native creatures and natural movements enough to keep the sensors from alerting.
The downside was that such travel was painstakingly slow, and this sensor field unusually wide.
By the time Morgan reached a vantage point looking down onto the training area, another several hours had been wasted. She raised the cam-nocs she had lifted from ground forces headquarters, using the same deliberate, careful movements that had brought her this far, zooming in the focus on the terrain below her.
The tents and equipment on the field were well camouflaged. Morgan knew she wouldn’t have seen them if she hadn’t known exactly what to look for.
Her curses stayed silent inside her, but didn’t lack for force. There was a lot of equipment down there, equipment that couldn’t be accounted for by the files that Haris’s snakes had maintained.
A shuttle dropped down so quietly that she knew it must be a full-stealth model. As it came to rest, a woman came out of a tent and hurried to meet it. Morgan zoomed in closer, identifying the woman’s suit as that of a sub-CEO. A sub-CEO implied this was a brigade-sized force . . .
The shuttle ramp dropped, and a man and woman came walking down it, the pair surrounded by several bodyguards. Morgan grimly focused on them, seeing what the presence of the bodyguards had already telegraphed.
A CEO, and another sub-CEO, both of their suits carrying the minor ornamentations that marked them as serving with ground forces.
That meant there could be an entire division of ground forces hidden here and in other training areas around the planet. A division that wasn’t in any of the snake files. Morgan respected the snakes too much to think that this could have been done under their noses, especially in this star system, where the snakes had insinuated themselves even more deeply into the ground forces than usual.
Haris hadn’t revolted. He hadn’t unilaterally declared himself Supreme CEO of this star system. It had all been theater, a trick to make it seem that Haris was no longer loyal to the Syndicate and could no longer be sure of Syndicate backing.
The show had to have a purpose, and this was it. They must have learned an attack force was coming from Midway, they had brought in this division only a few days beforehand, using shuttle drills as a cover for landing all of the soldiers and equipment, and the comm silencing period was designed to ensure no possible hint of the extra troops’ presence leaked out.
General Drakon must already be on the way. Must already be wi
thin a day or two of landing, expecting to encounter one understrength brigade of regular ground forces, not that brigade plus a division more. With the comm stand-down still in effect, trying to get a warning out would be a lot harder once she got to a transmitter, and just getting to a transmitter would take a while.
She felt a surge of fury, a desire to fling herself down the slope, to kill until she reached a transmitter. But she knew how likely that was to fail. If she died before she reached a means of sending a warning to General Drakon, then there would be no one to warn him at all.
And there was another mission that must be completed to ensure that Drakon survived. If she didn’t ensure that some critical control lines remained disabled in ways that weren’t apparent to the snakes, General Drakon would not survive the victory that he might still be able to achieve despite the dramatic change in odds.
Morgan gritted her teeth, calmed herself with an effort of will that left her gasping, then began slowly, methodically sneaking back out of the sensor field.
—
LIFE on the crowded freighters was so unpleasant that Drakon found himself looking forward to combat as an alternative to staying in the cramped accommodations, breathing air fragrant with the smells of too many men and women who hadn’t bathed in too long. Right now he was crammed into his grandly named stateroom, which in any surface dwelling would have been classified as a closet, along with Colonel Conner Gaiene. “What did you need to talk about?”
Gaiene made a face. “I’ve been thinking.”
“Seriously?” Drakon asked.
Gaiene’s expression shifted into a grin. “I still do that on occasion. Not every brain cell is dead, yet, and I have done this sort of thing a few times.” The smile faded, replaced by that haunted look from eyes that had seen too much on too many battlefields. “The plan calls for using the warships to conduct a preliminary bombardment.”
“Right,” Drakon said. “The cruisers don’t carry nearly as many bombardment projectiles as battleships or battle cruisers do, but they have enough to cause some real damage to one big target.”
“So I see. We’re going to turn snake headquarters on Ulindi into a big crater made up of a lot of little craters. But the snakes will have an alternate command post.”
“Of course they will,” Drakon agreed.
“How do we keep them from setting off the buried nukes? We are assuming that the snakes have buried nukes under the cities and big towns of this planet, aren’t we?”
“Yes, we’re assuming that,” Drakon said. “Colonel Morgan will make sure the alternate command post can’t send the detonation orders.”
Gaiene bent a skeptical look on Drakon. “How is she going to do that all by herself? It would be a tough job for a company of special forces troops.”
“You know Morgan.”
“I certainly do,” Gaiene said in a tone of voice that held great depths of meaning. “Though never in any physical sense, I assure you.”
“Then you know that you don’t ask her how and you don’t tell her how,” Drakon said. “You just tell her what you want done and pull the trigger.”
“As smart weapons go, she is in a class by herself,” Gaiene admitted. “But . . .”
“But, what? If you’ve got concerns, I want to hear them, Conner.”
“There was that prolonged comm silence.”
Drakon nodded, his expression grim. “The timing was suspicious, but it started well before we got here, and it ended yesterday. Now, of course, there’s a lot of talk about our being here, but that’s to be expected.”
“We didn’t catch any unguarded comms from before we arrived,” Gaiene pointed out. “Those usually provide important information.”
“I agree. And Colonel Kai has raised the same concern. Do you believe that period of comm silence justifies calling off the assault?” He waited for the answer, knowing that Gaiene would tell him whatever Gaiene believed and not what he thought Drakon might want to hear.
Gaiene paused for a long moment, his eyes averted, the pose almost that of a man listening to something he couldn’t quite make out. “No. Based on what we know, I believe that we should go ahead with the assault.”
“Is something else bothering you?”
Another pause, that same attitude of almost-listening, then Gaiene shrugged. “I don’t know, General. Just a feeling. Have I ever thanked you? For overlooking my failings in the last few years?”
“You’ve earned your keep, Conner,” Drakon said, eyeing Gaiene. He knew Gaiene could get moody at times, especially the last few years, but this felt different. “You’re sure there’s nothing specific bothering you?”
Gaiene smiled. “Just a feeling,” he repeated. “I’ve been running away from the past for a long time. I . . . almost feel that it will catch up to me here.” He laughed. “I’m sure Lara hasn’t been happy with me.”
Drakon didn’t know what to say for a moment. “You haven’t said Lara’s name for a long time.”
“She’s been far away. She’s closer now.” Gaiene looked straight at Drakon, his eyes dark. “Thank you, General.”
“Can you lead your troops into this fight?” Drakon asked. Gaiene had acted fey before, but not like this.
“Yes, sir. All the way. Not a problem.” Gaiene smiled once more and suddenly seemed his usual self again. “I feel better than I have in a long time. Is drop time still in fourteen hours?”
“Yes. The Kommodor will let me know when we’re exactly two hours out. I’ll pass word to you and Kai then, so you can get your troops prepared for the assault. The shuttle pilots have already gone over their birds and can be ready to go in half an hour after I alert them. The bombardment will go out twenty minutes before we launch the first wave.”
Gaiene looked at one bulkhead, his eyes obviously not seeing the bare metal but something from the past, his expression wistful and distressed in equal measure. “Do you remember how many times we’ve watched assault forces coming? Sitting there on the surface, you and me and the rest of us, seeing any friendly mobile forces around trying to fight off the attackers, watching the enemy assault transports get closer and closer as each day, then each hour goes by? Watching the bombardment launch and bracing ourselves for the impacts as the ground shook and shook and men and women died? And then the shuttles coming down through our defensive fire, dropping off loads of Alliance ground forces or maybe Alliance Marines, and the fights that took forever and no time at all and never seemed to stop. Or all the times we were the ones dropping into the fight, knowing that if we failed in the assault, no one might be able to get us out of there again. How many friends have we watched die, you and I?”
“I stopped thinking about that a long time ago,” Drakon said, his voice soft.
“You only pretended to stop thinking about it,” Gaiene corrected him.
“Yeah, I guess that’s true. Conner, it’s different now. We’re not fighting for the Syndicate, we’ll take as many prisoners as are willing to surrender, and when this is over, we’ll go back to Midway and only fight to defend ourselves or to help others who need our assistance.”
Gaiene nodded. “It’s different. Yes. We know that. But the weapons we fire don’t know that, General. All they know is how to kill, and they don’t care why the triggers are pulled or what the target is.” He saluted before leaving.
Drakon stared at the hatch after it closed, trying to remember if Conner Gaiene had ever before saluted him when they were in private.
—
ICENI was sitting in her office, clasped hands before her mouth, brooding, when an urgent alert sounded. Muttering a curse, Iceni spun to look at her display. What she saw made her anger change to a jolt of anxiety.
“An enigma ship arrived at the jump point from Pele,” her watch-center supervisor reported anxiously.
She took a deep breath, calming herself and focusing her attention. “Only one? Is he a scout for a larger force?” The enigma had shown up more than four and a half hours ago. But watch
ing its movements still created a sense of urgency in Iceni.
“Madam President, we cannot determine— He altered vector. A major change.”
Iceni watched the movements of the enigma, movements made hours ago, the alien ship whipping around at an amazing rate. If only our ships could move like that! “He’s . . . heading back,” she said.
Then he was gone.
“The enigma ship has jumped back to Pele,” the supervisor reported. “It must have been a surveillance mission, Madam President, taking a snapshot of everything here, then getting out before we could react.”
“He could have hung around the jump point for hours and been safe from any reaction by us,” Iceni said. “We don’t have the luxury of stationing warships near that jump point.”
The supervisor hesitated. “He very likely had firm orders to leave immediately.”
“Why?” Iceni asked. She had learned the importance of encouraging her workers to share information instead of jumping down their throats whenever they volunteered something. That sort of thing was hard for the workers to get used to after their experience with the shut-up-and-do-it attitude of the Syndicate.
The watch-center supervisor spoke with care, feeling out each word. “We have seen numerous indications that the enigmas have a Syndicate-type level of discipline. The enigma commanders who sent this ship could not know whether we would have somebody stationed at the jump point, guarding it, so they may well have given that ship orders to return to Pele immediately after making their observations rather than giving its commander discretion on how long to stay and observe. It had plenty of time to see every ship here and what else was happening inside this star system.”
“And so accomplished its mission with minimum risk of failure,” Iceni said. “You are probably correct. Thank you.”
She ended the call and stared glumly at the display, wishing that the enigmas had timed their reconnaissance mission for a different period. As it was, they would have seen precious few defensive assets in this star system, and the last extra thing she needed now was for the enigmas to launch another assault.