“They wanted him to come to Ulindi,” Dingane Paige said, sounding more confident as he talked to his peers.
Other guards had hastened over and were examining their readouts. “Iceni and Drakon? Those two really wanted him to come here?” one asked.
“Yes. I’m familiar with this region of space,” Boyens explained, doing his best to pretend that he was talking to another CEO rather than to a worker so his attitude would come across well. “I used to serve with the Reserve Flotilla.” He remembered conversations he had overheard as well as some Syndicate intelligence assessments and decided to add something else. “I was taken prisoner when the Flotilla was destroyed by Black Jack. He brought me back to Midway and released me.”
“You expect us to believe that?” a young woman demanded.
“It’s true.” Two more women had come over. Boyens hadn’t noticed them in his focus on the guards, but he saw they wore Syndicate uniforms that had had the Syndicate patches torn off. “We were shuttle pilots with the Reserve Flotilla,” the older of the two continued, jerking her thumb at her companion to include her in the statement. “We both saw him with the Flotilla. I flew him a few times.”
“I’m glad you survived,” Boyens said, trying desperately to recall the woman and wondering how he had treated her. Hopefully halfway decently at least.
“Got transferred off before the Flotilla got sent to Alliance space and hell,” the pilot answered. “This guy treated us all right,” the woman added. “He was a CEO, but he wasn’t an arrogant ass.”
“Everyone knew that Boyens wasn’t half-bad,” the other pilot commented, “for a CEO.”
“That’s not saying much,” one of the guards grumbled, staring at Boyens’s papers as if searching for a single comma out of place that could be used to justify arrest and interrogation.
“President Iceni asked me to come here,” Boyens repeated.
“He’s telling the truth,” another guard commented, eyes on the readouts.
“That’s a first for a CEO,” another added, bringing a ripple of angry laughter.
“Iceni was a CEO once, too. Why did President Iceni ask you to come to Ulindi?” the older pilot asked. “Last I heard, you were attacking Midway in command of a Syndicate flotilla.”
“Because I escaped,” Boyens said, phrasing his words carefully. “The snakes commanded that flotilla, not me. I had snake CEO Hua Boucher at my back every moment. I managed to prevent some actions by the snakes and kept it from accomplishing the Syndicate’s goals.” The first part of that sentence was true, but the second half was shading the truth considerably. Hopefully, the way he had phrased it, thinking of what Boucher really had accused him of doing, would keep the statement from showing up on the security sensors as deceptive. “I had to run when it became obvious I was going to be blamed for the flotilla’s failures. I brought important information to Midway. I wish I could have killed Boucher myself before I left, but the attempt would have been futile.” He didn’t have to worry whether that last statement would come across as true.
The commander of the checkpoint scratched his head, then shrugged. “I have to admit to a strong desire to just go ahead and shoot you now, but that’d be a snake thing to do. We’re going to, uh, take you into custody, though. Take you down and let the interim government talk to you. They’ll decide what to do.”
“That’s fine,” Boyens said, trying not to look too relieved. If he could get in the same room with the inexperienced people trying to run this star system he was certain that he could convince them that he would be useful to Ulindi. It would take some time to unobtrusively shift from being a source of advice to becoming someone in authority, but he had time. Only fools tried to rush things.
The two guards assigned to him weren’t deferential, but they weren’t rough, either. A lifetime in the Syndicate had left them with a residual dread of CEOs that held them back even now. Boyens saw that the pilots on the shuttle taking him down to the planet were the two women who were also survivors of the Reserve Flotilla. He took that as a good sign for the future.
“We’re all survivors, aren’t we?” Boyens commented to his guards and Dingane Paige as the shuttle fell away from the orbital facility and began dropping toward the planet below.
“So far,” one of the guards commented in tones that made the implied threat obvious.
Paige was gazing morosely at the display near him, which showed an image of space outside the shuttle. “We can’t defend ourselves. How long can we survive like that? We don’t even have one Hunter-Killer like the one that brought us back to Ulindi.”
“Get one,” Boyens said matter-of-factly.
Paige and the guards stared at him. “You mean buy a mobile forces unit?” Paige asked. “We don’t have the money.”
“No, no!” Boyens protested. “Even if you could buy a warship, that’s what President Iceni calls them instead of mobile forces, you know,” he added in an aside to the guards to emphasize that he knew Iceni, “there are better ways. You have jump points to Maui and Kiribati, right? And the Syndicate is posting warships at Maui and Kiribati to keep those star systems from revolting, and to protect against attacks by Midway’s forces. You need to get word to the workers and any right-minded executives on those warships that if they are sick of the Syndicate they can find a safe home here at Ulindi. For them and for their families!”
“Encourage them to mutiny?” Paige asked, then shook his head. “There must be snakes all over those units . . . um, warships. They couldn’t mutiny.”
“Even the Syndicate doesn’t have unlimited numbers of snakes,” Boyens advised. “How many snakes died here at Ulindi? On the planet where we’re going and in warships that were destroyed during the fighting in space? And that’s on top of all the other losses and all the other demands for snakes that the Syndicate has faced lately. They are spread thinly, I tell you. We have a window of opportunity in which mutinies have a higher chance of success, and we should use that to convince as many of those warships as possible to come to Ulindi for a new home where they can be free of the Syndicate. A new home that they can help defend against the Syndicate and all other threats!”
The two guards exchanged smiles, and even Paige managed to let some excitement and hope overcome his apparently habitual anxiety. More importantly (from Boyens’s point of view), none of them had objected when Boyens had used “we” to include himself with them.
And it wasn’t a bad plan at all. Some of the executives and sub-CEOs on those Syndicate warships at Maui and Kiribati might be men and women he knew. That wouldn’t be a positive in every case, but as a rule, Boyens had tried to avoid leaving vengeful victims in his wake. He had seen too many examples of unforgiving subordinates tripping up (or worse) those who had harmed them to not realize that generating living enemies on the way to the top made for a bad long-term strategy. Now Boyens’s attempts to ensure he wasn’t personally blamed for misfortunes that befell others might help bring Ulindi exactly the sort of muscle it very badly needed.
And if it led to more than one snake like the late-and-unlamented snake CEO Hua Boucher being shoved out an air lock by angry workers, so much the better.
* * *
HEAVY cruiser Manticore dropped out of jump space at Moorea to the accompaniment of combat system alarms warning of danger nearby.
“A Hunter-Killer,” Kapitan Diaz said as he shook the lingering effects of leaving jump from his brain. “Two light minutes away. It’s holding an orbit near the jump point. It is not broadcasting Syndicate unit identification.”
“A trick?” Marphissa asked.
The senior watch specialist answered. “Kommodor, the communications we are picking up indicate that Moorea has been occupied by the forces of Granaile Imallye. The HuK guarding this jump point is specifically identified as belonging to her forces.”
“So. A sentry posted at the jump point. That implies a
decent level of organization and discipline.” Marphissa gazed at her display as new information appeared. Moorea was a fairly well-off star system, with five inner planets and six larger ones in the outer reaches. One of the inner planets was not merely inhabitable by humans but pleasant, orbiting its star at seven and a half light minutes out, while a second at ten light minutes out was cold but livable.
Orbiting near the primary inhabited world were two light cruisers, two more HuKs, and a single battle cruiser. While clearly of Syndicate origin, none of those were broadcasting Syndicate unit identification either.
“Imallye has some serious firepower here,” Marphissa commented. But the jump point from which Manticore had arrived was nearly six light hours from where that planet and those other warships now orbited. She waved one hand toward the comm specialist. “Set me up to contact the HuK on sentry duty.”
“Yes, Kommodor,” she replied. “It will take one moment. Done. Channel Two, Kommodor.”
Marphissa sat straight and tried to look authoritative but not hostile. “Unknown warship at the jump point from Iwa, this is Kommodor Marphissa of the Free and Independent Midway Star System aboard the heavy cruiser Manticore. I have been sent to Moorea by our President Iceni to contact Granaile Imallye and to pass on warning of a new and serious threat from the alien enigma species.” She paused. “We have just come from Iwa, where all Syndicate installations were recently destroyed by an enigma attack. There were no survivors. I must speak with Granaile Imallye and the leaders of Moorea as soon as possible. Moorea may be the next target of the enigmas, and their next attack could come at any time. For the people, Marphissa, out.”
“That should get their attention,” Diaz commented. “Why leave a single HuK on sentry duty? It could only deal with the smallest level of threat arriving here.”
“Perhaps Imallye wants to see if whoever arrives immediately attacks the HuK or tries to talk,” Marphissa said. “Put Manticore in an orbit that holds us near here until that HuK answers us. President Iceni was very clear that we must not provoke combat with Imallye’s forces.”
Diaz was still maneuvering Manticore when a reply came from the HuK. The man whose image appeared before Marphissa wore what had once been a Syndicate executive’s suit, but one bedecked with numerous extra decorations and jewelry. Under the Syndicate, that suit would have been kept pressed and immaculate, but the current owner didn’t seem bothered by the wrinkles and sags in it. “I am Mahadhevan, commander of the Mahadhevan,” he announced, “a unit obedient to Granaile Imallye and to no one else.”
“He says that like he expects us to be annoyed,” Diaz commented.
“He’s a worker,” the senior watch specialist declared. “A former worker.” The other specialists nodded in agreement.
It wasn’t too hard to figure out how a former worker would come to be wearing the uniform of a Syndicate executive. When the workers on Syndicate warships mutinied, there was little mercy shown to many of their former supervisors. Marphissa, herself a former executive, was grateful that Iceni had maintained control over the crews of the ships on which she had fostered rebellion against the Syndicate. “He’s not using a title,” Marphissa observed. “Maybe that’s how Imallye runs things.”
Mahadhevan, after pausing to let his audience presumably have time to be outraged by his attitude, spoke again, sounding unconcerned. “You will wait here, in the orbit I give you, while I pass on your request to Imallye. That is all.”
The image vanished.
“Are you certain that we cannot provoke hostilities?” Diaz asked, his voice angry now.
“I’m supposed to avoid it if possible,” Marphissa said, trying not to become equally angry. “That ass is too busy showing off his new status to listen to what I told him. He might delay sending on a message just to emphasize his current exalted state.”
“What will we do, Kommodor? He has sent us the orbit we are supposed to remain in.”
Marphissa thought, the image of the devastation at Iwa filling her mind. “I cannot risk this fool’s slowing down the warning I must give. Comm specialist, set up a signal tagged for military and civilian leaders here in Moorea, no matter who they are loyal to. I want the signal aimed to intercept the orbit of the primary world and those warships orbiting near it. Kapitan Diaz, while I send my message out, you are to take Manticore toward the primary inhabited world at a velocity of point two light speed.”
Diaz grinned. “Yes, Kommodor! And if Mahadhevan and the Mahadhevan react in a hostile manner?”
“That HuK does not have sufficient firepower to hurt us on a single firing run. We will see, Kapitan, if Mahadhevan has enough brains to realize that. If he does not, we will have to show him that attacking warships of Midway without provocation is a serious mistake.”
Surely President Iceni would want her to act quickly, and to refuse to be easily intimidated by a single ship far weaker than her own. But Marphissa still waited, outwardly calm but inwardly tense, to see what the worker-turned-commander would do when his orders were ignored.
Manticore could easily handle a single HuK. But that battle cruiser could smash Manticore if Imallye decided to back even a foolish decision by one of her subordinates.
And she knew almost nothing about Imallye.
“Shields at maximum strength,” Marphissa ordered. “Do not power up weapons.”
Manticore accelerated out of orbit, heading down the long path to where the primary inhabited world of Moorea would be in sixty hours.
CHAPTER SIX
“THE Mahadhevan is changing vector,” the senior watch specialist announced.
Marphissa eyed her display, watching the HuK accelerating and coming around, using her experience to guess its path even before it had settled out. “An intercept. The man is a fool.”
“Power up weapons?” Diaz asked hopefully.
“Not yet.” She slouched back a little in her command seat, then tapped the control to contact the HuK again. “Mahadhevan, I am happy to accept your offer to serve as our escort while Manticore heads to a meeting with Imallye.” Marphissa could only guess that the pirate queen would be aboard the battle cruiser, but Imallye’s forces couldn’t include that many ships of that size. Imallye would almost certainly be riding the battle cruiser, and perhaps was acting as the warship’s commanding officer.
“Just let me know if Mahadhevan requires specific stationing instructions relative to Manticore,” Marphissa continued with cheerful confidence. “It would be very unfortunate if any accidents occurred while your ship was close to my heavy cruiser. For the people, Marphissa, out.”
Diaz looked from Marphissa to his display and back again. “May I ask what you are doing, Kommodor?”
It was an exceptionally bold question for anyone trained in the Syndicate system of absolute obedience. Marphissa gave him a stern look, then laughed. “I am responding to Mahadhevan on his own terms. Do you not recognize what he was doing? Trying to overawe me and dare me to dispute his status and his orders?”
“I saw that,” Diaz said. “And now you are going back at him in the same way?”
“Exactly. You must have seen the same game played a thousand times or more when you were in school.”
“Yes.” Diaz looked at his display again, where the HuK Mahadhevan was continuing on a course to intercept Manticore. “But I have never seen that schoolyard game played with warships carrying arsenals of deadly weapons.”
“The ball is in his court,” Marphissa said. “He must decide whether to throw a punch or take advantage of the out I gave him and pretend that it was always about his escorting us to his superiors. That’s what he’ll do if he’s smart.”
“And if he’s stupid?”
Marphissa gave Diaz a serious look this time. “He is in command of one of the warships of Granaile Imallye. What intelligence we have on Imallye says that she has amassed a significant fighting force a
nd established control of more than one star system. We see evidence here at Moorea supporting that intelligence. Would such a capable commander allow a reckless fool to command a warship? The Syndicate may see HuKs as throwaways, warships that last only moments in most combat situations, but neither we nor Imallye have so many warships that we can afford to think that way. So, if what we have been told of Imallye is right, if what we see here at Moorea before us is as it seems, then for all his posturing Mahadhevan must have some intelligence and skills. I tell you this to explain my reasons for acting as I am. I am not simply responding to a schoolyard bluff with another bluff, but made my decisions based on analyzing this particular situation.”
“Thank you, Kommodor,” Diaz said. “Even after serving with you for a while I am still surprised, and grateful, to have you explain your reasons and plans to me.”
“If worse came to worst for me, you’d have to carry out this mission,” Marphissa said, waving away his words to cover her inner embarrassment at Diaz’s admiration. “And you may command a force on your own someday. I hope to provide you with good training for that.” She smiled. “Despite my own lack of experience.”
The combat systems specialist broke into their conversation. “The HuK Mahadhevan will be within our weapons range in seven minutes, Kommodor. He will be close enough to fire on us in eight and a half minutes.”
On Marphissa’s display a translucent globe appeared around the Hunter-Killer, depicting the effective range of its weapons. Another, larger, globe centered on Manticore showed the longer range of the missiles and more powerful hell lance particle beams that the heavy cruiser carried. After the heavy cruiser had changed vectors to accelerate toward the inner star system, the HuK had been positioned slightly above and just forward of Manticore. As the HuK dove toward an intercept with the heavy cruiser, its relative position did not change, but the other warship drew steadily closer.