ROGERO used the special, secure comm equipment in the private compartment to send his report to Marphissa. “Kommodor, I have the pleasure to report that our mission was successful. We have over five thousand released prisoners on board, the vast majority from the Reserve Flotilla. In view of the strain on the freighters’ life support, and in light of recent events aboard this ship, I urge that we off-load here at Atalia those who do not wish to go to Midway.”
He provided a summary of events at Varandal, then described the riot a few hours ago. “I will keep Captain Bradamont safe, but the sooner she is transferred back to Manticore, the better. For the people, Rogero, out.”
Marphissa’s reply came back hours later. She didn’t look pleased.
“Colonel Rogero, I was distressed to hear of the threat to our liaison officer. I agree with you that we must get her back aboard Manticore. I am leaving Kraken at the jump point to maintain our blockade of the path back to Indras but will be bringing Manticore to join you. I do not want to delay here off-loading hundreds of people, but I don’t see any alternative. Even if there weren’t a security issue, the life-support readings on those freighters are not good. We need to reduce the load on them. I’m sending the ships with you a new vector to follow toward an orbiting facility that can take on the workers we’re going to be leaving behind. Have your soldiers on the freighters sort out who is leaving. We need that done before we get to the facility, so we can get the off-loud completed as quickly as possible.
“I am grateful you are all back safely. For the people, Marphissa, out.”
TRAVELING through space, Rogero decided, was like running in quicksand. You could put tremendous effort into it, but it still felt like you were running in place. Days after arriving at Atalia, he stood, disconsolate, outside the air lock, where a shuttle carrying Honore Bradamont had only just departed.
A bit of Bradamont remained with him, in a way. She had been forced to continue constantly wearing Rogero’s battle armor, with the result that she and it had stunk pretty bad by the time she had finally shed it outside the air lock. There had been witnesses, they couldn’t say much, but she had looked into his eyes, and the message there had been clear. Her feelings for him had not changed.
A large group approached, led by Sub-CEO Garadun, who smiled ruefully at Rogero. “I’m told the next ride is ours. You never promised we’d get to ride farther than Atalia.”
Rogero waved one hand in front of his face as if shoving aside the odors that had seemingly grown strong enough to see as the freighter’s overburdened life support kept up its losing battle. “I’d think you’d be glad to leave this.”
“No, Donal, I want to see those aliens! I’m going to get to Darus, somehow, but look for me after that.”
“I will.” Rogero clasped Garadun’s hand with real warmth. “At least you won’t have to go back with us through Kalixa.”
Garadun shook his head, glowering. “You see, Donal, that’s one of the reasons why we continue to hate the Alliance. Before our flotilla was destroyed, the CEOs showed us images of what happened there. Of what the Alliance did at Kalixa.”
“What?” Rogero gave Garadun a startled look. “Didn’t anybody tell you what really happened, Pers?”
“What do you mean? The Alliance collapsed the hypernet gate. That’s what killed Kalixa Star System.”
“No. It wasn’t the Alliance. It was the enigmas.”
Garadun stared at Rogero wordlessly.
“We found out the enigmas could send a signal that traveled faster than light,” Rogero explained, “a signal that could cause any hypernet gate to collapse and emit a huge burst of energy. All of the gates now have a special modification that prevents that from happening, but we didn’t learn it until too late to save Kalixa.”
Garadun finally found his voice. “Why did the enigmas destroy Kalixa instead of someplace closer to them?”
“Because,” Rogero said, hearing his own voice grow hard, “they wanted us to blame the Alliance. They wanted the Syndicate Worlds and the Alliance to start collapsing hypernet gates in each other’s star systems.”
After a long moment, Sub-CEO Garadun looked away angrily. “Wipe each other out. They wanted us to wipe out each other. Let humanity kill itself, and they’d inherit the wreckage.”
“Yes.”
“And we almost did it. We almost did exactly what they wanted. The Reserve Flotilla had orders to collapse the hypernet gate at Varandal. Did you know that? In retaliation for what happened at Kalixa.”
It was Rogero’s turn to stare without words.
“We almost did it.” Garadun shuddered, his face twisted with pain. “Dammit all. If we hadn’t lost that fight . . . I need to tell people about this. They don’t know. They think the Alliance destroyed Kalixa. Are you absolutely certain, Donal? There’s no doubt of what you say?”
“No doubt at all. It’s widely known because of the crash program to get the modifications installed on the hypernet gates.” Rogero paused. “You should know what happened at Prime. The gate there collapsed as well, at a time when it would have destroyed not only Prime but also Black Jack’s fleet. But it had the modification installed, and so did not collapse in the way that led to something like Kalixa.”
Garadun shook his head, looking around. “There’s Ito. Hey! And you, Jepsen. Did you hear what Colonel Rogero said? You’re staying with him, so you two make sure everyone on this ship and the other freighters know the truth. I’ll tell the ones who are going to be dropped off here. There are plenty of real reasons to hate the Alliance for what they did during the war, but none of those reasons approach the scale of what happened at Kalixa. Our people need to know who was really responsible.”
“The enigmas tried to use the hate we felt for the Alliance,” Rogero said, “and the hate the Alliance felt for us, to achieve their own goals.”
“That’s the problem with hate, isn’t it?” Garadun said. “It’s very easy for hate to hit the wrong targets. Yes, I know that. I always have. I couldn’t change my feelings about the Alliance, but I could stay aware of the mistakes those feelings might cause me to make. Collapsing that gate at Varandal might have been the worst such mistake, and in that case I didn’t realize it until now.” The air lock cycled open. “Here’s my ride. Thank you, Donal. I have a life again. I won’t waste it.”
“See you don’t,” Rogero advised, as Garadun entered the air lock, followed by other workers and junior supervisors who had chosen to leave the freighter at Atalia.
“I’ll see you at Midway!” Ito called before the air-lock hatch sealed. “Can we talk?” she asked Rogero.
“Of course. Help me carry my armor back to my quarters.”
Ito wrinkled her nose. “Even with this air, I can smell that. Better clean it out.”
“I’ve done it plenty of times before after a long fight,” Rogero said. “Have you discovered anything about that riot?”
“That’s what I wanted to talk about,” she said, falling into step beside him. “None of the workers knows who motivated it. Just the usual somebody said something and everybody was doing it nonsense.” She snorted in derision. “Sheep.”
“What about the wounded?”
“The wounded? Oh, you mean the two injured workers? One died.” Ito didn’t sound concerned about that. “The other will be able to return to duty eventually if you don’t want to execute her as a lesson to the others. Those two didn’t know anything, either.”
“It was planned,” Rogero said. “Someone planned that and led it, and I very much doubt that whoever motivated that mob was anywhere near the forefront of the action. More likely they were a ways back from it, building an alibi.”
“You’re right. But anybody who knew who that was must have died when you put down the riot. I used the portable ground forces interrogation gear you guys brought. It’s not great, but it’s good enough. None of those worke
rs were trained to handle interrogation.”
“What about the grenade?” Rogero asked. “I was able to determine that it was stolen from our supplies, not delivered to someone by one of my soldiers. That theft took considerable skill, getting past the alarms set in that cargo area and leaving no trace of the intrusion. But there was only one grenade missing.”
“You probably killed the one who got it from whoever stole it,” Ito said. “He or she had to have been at the front of the mob to toss it through the door when they got it partway open. They only took one because if they had taken two, we might have found it during a search after the riot; and then we would know who was behind everything.”
“Most likely,” Rogero agreed. “Whoever planned this did a professional job. They need to be caught.”
“And killed?”
“Probably. After they answer a few questions.”
“So,” Ito said, “tell me something. You killed all the snakes at Midway? What did the workers do without the snakes keeping them down? They must have rioted. Did you have to do a compliance action on the whole planet?”
Rogero’s memory filled with images of the nearly hysterical crowds, which had celebrated the deaths of the snakes on Midway and the destruction of the Internal Security Service headquarters by General Drakon’s soldiers. He had seen the trouble developing, he had known the celebration was growing more frenzied and would soon descend into riot. “No. I could tell things were going to get out of hand. But they didn’t. General Drakon sent us out, but he sent us out to enlist the citizens in preventing the celebration from turning into a rampage of looting and destruction.”
“Enlist them?” Ito asked. “You mean he drafted a lot of them to use for locking down the rest?”
“No. General Drakon talked to the citizens. He told them they needed to keep anyone from using their freedom to harm the rest of them. He told them any surviving snakes might try to convince them to riot and destroy things. He got the police on the streets, with our backup. He went out himself on the streets, and calmed everyone, got everyone to think about tomorrow, and what they needed to do to keep themselves and their families safe.”
Ito was watching him with a baffled expression. “But he also threatened them.” She made it a statement, not a question.
“No,” Rogero said. “He and President Iceni told the people that they must act responsibly, and made it clear that anyone who didn’t would be dealt with.”
“That’s a threat,” Ito concluded. “How much unrest has there been since then?”
“Very little. Demonstrations, yes. President Iceni permits those as long as everyone behaves. It lets the people know they have a real voice.”
They reached his quarters, and Ito left Rogero to the familiar but tedious job of cleaning out his armor. I love you most dearly, Honore, but you stink remarkably after a few days in armor. I won’t be telling you that to your face, though.
I haven’t thought much about those days right after the revolt when we killed the snakes at Midway. There’s been too much else to keep me busy. But what would have happened if General Drakon and President Iceni had ordered Syndicate methods be used to suppress the citizens? We would have been on constant garrison duty, fighting to keep a rebellious people from doing to us what we had done to the snakes.
We were given the leaders we needed, when we needed them. I must remain grateful for that, because Honore told me of many other star systems that lacked such leaders and have paid an awful price. I’ve heard about Taroa and some of the things that happened there. Was it coincidence that we had both Drakon and Iceni? I think not. Who or what do I thank for our good fortune?
Not the people. This was beyond our powers.
MARPHISSA watched Bradamont board Manticore and could not help but hug her in welcome. “You made it back.”
Bradamont laughed, surprised by the gesture. She had dark circles of fatigue under her eyes and smelled like she had been buried for a few days and dug up. “I was wondering if I would make it back. I’ve been wearing battle armor nonstop for a while.”
“No wonder,” Marphissa said.
“No wonder what?”
“Nothing! I’m sure you want to clean up and rest. Don’t worry about anything else. We’ll get the one thousand three hundred twenty six Syndicate lovers dropped off and head back for the jump point. Life support on the freighters will gradually recover with the load on them reduced, and with any luck, we won’t need you again on this trip.”
“Don’t jinx me,” Bradamont cautioned. “Not everyone we’re leaving is a Syndicate lover, Asima. Some just didn’t want to go to Midway.”
“Their mistake.”
“Did Atalia give you much trouble about accepting them?”
Marphissa grinned. “I’ve been around President Iceni enough to know how to do these things. I didn’t ask Atalia if they’d accept them. I told Atalia they were getting them. Atalia decided not to argue since I had so much more firepower than they do.”
“Don’t learn the wrong lessons, Asima.”
Marphissa paused at Bradamont’s stateroom before heading back to the bridge. “Let me tell you something, Honore. You’re on Manticore. Keep your hatch locked as usual, but you’re safe here.”
Bradamont smiled wanly. “You warned me about the crew, remember?”
“That was before. You’ve been on board awhile. They know you. Then word got around about that riot. To them, Manticore’s Alliance officer, their Alliance officer, was almost killed by a bunch of louts from the Reserve Flotilla. They may not love you, but you belong to Manticore. That’s what they’re thinking. You’ll be safe here,” Marphissa repeated.
“I’ll never understand sailors,” Bradamont said.
“You understand them well enough. Welcome back, you Alliance monster.”
“I’m glad to be back, you Syndic devil.”
IT hadn’t been easy waiting at Atalia. It wasn’t easy transiting back through Kalixa. But Marphissa had reserved most of her worries for what might await them at Indras.
Why did I have to be right?
“Damned snakes,” Kapitan Diaz spat.
There were now three light cruisers and five Hunter-Killers at Indras, and they were orbiting ten light-minutes from the jump exit to Kalixa, along the most direct route from there to the hypernet gate.
“Maybe we can bluff our way past them,” Marphissa said. She was once again wearing the Syndicate CEO suit. Don’t sit too straight. Look bored. Act like you are the biggest thing in this star system and every surrounding star system.
She reached for her comm control and schooled her voice again to an arrogant drawl. “This is CEO Manetas. Our mission at Atalia has, naturally, been successfully completed. We are returning to Prime with prisoners for special evaluation and interrogation. All ships are to remain clear of the path of my flotilla. Manetas, for the people, out.”
“I’m praying again,” Diaz told her after the transmission ended. “My parents taught me how to do that in secret.”
“They did? I hope you learned well.”
Their answer came much quicker than expected. “Kommodor, it is an eyes-only message, from the Syndicate flotilla ahead of us, for your private viewing.”
Marphissa knew what everyone expected. She would go to her stateroom and view the message alone, a message that probably contained secret offers as lucrative as the Syndicate could come up with. That was what Syndicate bosses did. “I’ll watch it here,” she said. “Anything the Syndicate has to say to me is not private.”
“Yes, Kommodor,” the comm specialist said, betraying a pleasant sort of surprise. “On your display.”
The man looking out at them was clearly a snake. A senior snake. Marphissa felt her blood growing cold just seeing him, despite knowing that his eyes could not actually see her. Such eyes, such a gaze, had been the last thing many of her fri
ends and acquaintances had ever seen before being hauled off to a labor camp or simply disappearing without a trace.
“I am Sub-CEO Qui. I don’t know who you really are, but I will find out. You have something the Syndicate Worlds needs. What we need is you. The Syndicate Worlds requires good CEO material. You have proven your abilities by the accumulation of a substantial flotilla of mobile forces, a flotilla that follows your orders.
“If you were of lesser talents, you would not receive this offer, which is fully backed and guaranteed by the government on Prime. If you accept Syndicate authority again, if you bring these mobile forces back under the command of Prime, you will immediately gain actual CEO rank, as well as full immunity for any actions that might have violated Syndicate law or regulations or procedures. Blanket immunity for any possible offense, as well as a leap into the highest ranks of the Syndicate Worlds.
“I hope you recognize the benefits of this very generous offer,” Sub-CEO Qui continued, his eyes and smile equally cold. “You gain high rank and a certainty of safety, and the Syndicate Worlds gains a very talented CEO and a small but valuable flotilla of mobile forces units. You need not fear opposition from your subordinates or workers. We will provide you with a plan to get sufficient forces aboard each unit to subdue any resistance.”
Qui’s smile changed, gaining a terrible kind of promise. “Or, you could reject this offer. It would be an awful waste of your talent. We’ll destroy every freighter with you before you can reach the gate, which means you will return to wherever your home is as a failure. You know the rewards that come to failures. And we will determine who you are, and where your family is, and we will hold them accountable for the crimes against the Syndicate Worlds you have surely committed, and they have surely conspired to assist.
“Far better to pursue the most profitable course. I’ll await your reply on this channel. Qui, for the people, out.”
The silence on the bridge when the message ended was close to absolute, broken only by the soft noises from the ship’s automated systems and the breathing of the men and women around Marphissa.