Iceni gazed steadily back at him before replying. “She’s alive?”
“I don’t know. This incident tonight is the first thing I know of that might indicate Morgan is still alive.” The last person he wanted to talk about to Iceni was Morgan, especially after last night.
After several more seconds, Iceni nodded slowly. “You didn’t have to tell me your suspicions of who that second person was, Artur.”
“Yes, I did. I wouldn’t keep something like that from you.”
“Do you think Morgan is a danger to me?” Iceni asked coolly. “If she hears that you and I have become more than co-rulers of this star system?”
Drakon shook his head in reply. “No. She thinks that daughter of hers is going to become some sort of super warlord who will end up conquering every star system in what used to be the Syndicate Worlds. Morgan can play the long game very well. And, with one possible exception, she has always obeyed firm orders from me. One of those firm orders was not to harm you or let you be harmed.”
“Would that possible exception be her sleeping with you despite your clearly expressed orders that subordinates shouldn’t do that with superiors?” Iceni asked.
“That was my fault for getting so drunk,” Drakon said. “I should have said no. I didn’t.”
“I won’t belabor that point,” she said, “because I agree with you. However, there have been lasting consequences. Morgan’s daughter, wherever she is currently concealed, is not just hers. She is also your daughter.” Iceni waited to see how he would react.
Drakon bit his lip. “Yes. That’s true. Gwen, that baby girl hasn’t done anything. I can’t punish her for who her mother is. Or was, if Morgan is indeed dead.”
Iceni smiled slightly. “Did it ever occur to you that I might feel the same way? Oh, I don’t care for Morgan at all. And for a long time I didn’t care to think about you and her and the offspring that resulted. But you’ve owned up to your mistake, accepting full responsibility. What you say is true. None of us get to choose our parents, and none of us should be blamed for who those parents are. The stars above know that I have often sneered at the claims of those who consider themselves special because their parents are powerful and wealthy. It makes no sense for me to condemn that child because I don’t care for the mother.”
“Thank you, Gwen.” Drakon paused, trying to think what else to say.
“You said there were three things,” Iceni prompted.
“Oh, yeah. The last thing is that we should have been told right after the incident in the warehouse happened.”
“Agreed,” Iceni said. “Since under the Syndicate it is simply assumed that any CEO is sleeping around, I don’t understand why our subordinates felt a need to be so discreet. I’ve been trying to figure that out. But I think the problem will be solved if we openly acknowledge the relationship, even if we don’t formalize it.” She cocked her head slightly to one side and eyed him closely. “Do you have any objections to that?”
“You don’t?” Drakon asked. “I mean, you’re still interested? Even after talking about . . . ?”
“I could always change my mind if you hesitate too long or keep bringing up unpleasant subjects.” Iceni’s gaze on him grew more intense. “Do you have any objections?”
“To acknowledging the relationship or formalizing it?” Drakon asked.
“Take your pick.”
“No, I don’t have a problem with that.”
Iceni raised an eyebrow at him. “With acknowledging it or formalizing it?”
“Take your pick,” Drakon said, wondering how she would respond.
She laughed. “Serves me right after I teased you yesterday afternoon. I personally favor acknowledging the relationship, but holding off the formalities until we resolve the situation at Iwa.”
“That could take a while,” Drakon pointed out.
“I know. But I don’t think we need the distraction, and I don’t want anyone thinking we’ve rushed things because of a belief that I might not come back from Iwa.” Iceni paused, waiting for a response from him that did not come. “You’re not arguing with that? Are we agreed that I will need to accompany our forces to Iwa?”
Drakon nodded, feeling a heaviness inside. “You actually convinced me yesterday afternoon when you pointed out that you had sent me to Ulindi. It was necessary that I go there, but it must have been difficult for you. Seeing you off to Iwa will be hard, but I can’t expect a partner of mine to live by a different set of rules than I follow.”
She smiled again. “That’s why I remain interested in you. You keep passing your tests, General. I will admit to you that I won’t be thrilled to be going, but as you say necessity must rule our actions. Speaking of actions, there’s another decision coming up. Manticore will reach orbit around this world today and those three soldiers from Iwa will be shuttled down to here.” Iceni gave Drakon an inquiring look. “What are you going to do with the three soldiers?”
He shrugged. “Let my medical people check them out and fix them up, while my intelligence people find out everything they saw at Iwa and try to learn anything they might have observed but didn’t realize was important. Then do what I usually do. Security screen them, and if they pass ask if they want to join my forces. I have no idea from the Kommodor’s report whether any of those three are hard-core Syndicate, or have strong family ties that they wouldn’t want to imperil by joining us.”
Iceni looked pensive, putting her hand to her mouth and looking off to the side. “They were rescued from an enigma-controlled world. Black Jack’s fleet rescued humans from the enigmas, too. But now we have. That is going to give us important standing with everyone who hears of it.”
“I love it when you talk like that,” Drakon said, amused and relieved that the conversation had gone so well despite the need to talk about Morgan.
She gave him a sidelong look. “We have enough challenges facing us that we need to make use of every possible resource.”
“I was thinking about that,” Drakon said. “Every possible resource. What are you going to do with that heavy cruiser we just captured?”
“Something that big isn’t just my decision,” Iceni said. “You get a say even though this is a mobile forces unit. The obvious thing to do is to add it to our forces, and screen the surviving crew to see which ones we can trust. But . . .”
Drakon nodded. “What’s the hitch?”
“Money,” Iceni said. She spread her hands in the age-old gesture of helplessness. “We’ve had enough discussions about this, especially before mounting that operation to Ulindi. Midway is one star system. We’re not particularly wealthy, though thanks to the hypernet gate and transit fees on merchant ships using our many jump points we rake in more money than most star systems like ours. We’ve been collecting more warships, and using up expendable weapons and fuel cells, and recruiting crews, and . . .” She sighed. “In a perfect world we’d keep adding more warships until we matched Black Jack’s fleet. But money is getting tight. We can borrow, we can delay, but we have to think of the future as well as right now.”
It felt good to hear her talking about “we” and knowing that Iceni really meant it. “Are you thinking of scrapping that heavy cruiser because we can’t afford it?”
“No! It’s too valuable. But it will require a lot of repairs, and a crew that has to be paid. I haven’t decided.” Iceni waved one hand toward him. “What do you think?”
Drakon returned the gesture. “You brought this up before. If we can’t pay for it, why can’t we get someone else to pay for it?”
She laughed. “I don’t—You’re serious?”
“We handed a battle cruiser over to Taroa,” Drakon pointed out.
“A battle cruiser that was not even half-built,” Iceni protested. Then she fell silent as she considered Drakon’s words. “We’ve already reached out to surrounding star systems to form a t
ighter relationship for self-defense and trade. They’re concerned that we’re just going to use that as a step for eventually establishing full control over them by building a new, mini-Syndicate.”
“But,” Drakon said, “if we give one of them something as substantial as a heavy cruiser, even one that needs repairs . . .”
She nodded quickly. “I wasn’t actually ready to start offering warships to other star systems. Mentally, I know the importance of that. Emotionally, I still want every warship here at Midway that I can get my hands on. But you are right. And there are still some survivors of the Reserve Flotilla who haven’t found new jobs. Some of them would surely want to go to that heavy cruiser, no matter whether it ended up at Taroa, or Ulindi, or Kane, or— Who gets that cruiser, Artur?”
“Taroa.” Drakon leaned back and explained. “They’re finishing building that battle cruiser that the Syndicate started. According to the status reports that I’m getting, in another few months that battle cruiser will be well enough along that other people might decide it’s worth trying to steal it, or the Syndicate might get wind of it and decide to send in a small force to sabotage it if they can’t steal it. Taroa needs the heavy cruiser to protect the battle cruiser, until that battle cruiser can protect itself.”
She nodded to him, smiling. “I can’t find any flaws in that reasoning. Taroa is also, aside from Ulindi, the best positioned to actually be able to pay for repairing and operating that warship. As soon as the heavy cruiser is fixed up enough to safely jump to Taroa, we’ll gift it to them as a sign of our deep commitment to the security of neighboring star systems, and that we meant what we said to them. And you know what else, Artur?”
“What?”
“I just realized that during this whole conversation I never once found myself wondering what other game you might be playing, what cards you were holding back, or how you might be maneuvering to position yourself against me.”
He gazed at her, surprised to realize the same of himself. “Damn. Saves a lot of time when you’re not worried about a knife in the back, doesn’t it?”
Iceni’s smile broadened. “We’re going to do it, Artur. You and me. We’re going to beat the enigmas, and Imallye, and the Syndicate, and we are going to make this star system and those around it into something that will stand against every danger.”
He smiled back and nodded, trying not to show the fears he felt about her facing both the enigmas and Imallye at Iwa. “How about discussing it over dinner?”
“Yes,” she said. “I’d love to . . . discuss more with you tonight. Your heavily defended place or mine?”
* * *
THE next morning, she and Drakon went together to the ground forces medical wards to see the three rescued soldiers. Iceni wanted to make it publicly clear that the relationship was not a one-night thing and that it was not considered a secret by either her or Drakon. She also wanted to see those soldiers.
The three had obviously benefited from the medically imposed sleep aboard Manticore as well as from all of the intravenous and regular nourishment that could safely be pumped into them. Their bodies showed substantial recovery from the hardships that the three had endured. But their eyes still held that trapped-animal look which would take longer to heal than the damage done to their bodies. “I want to thank you for a job well done, and assure you that you will be welcome in this star system should you pass the security screening,” Iceni told them.
The three, lying in three adjacent med units, stared at her with varying degrees of incomprehension and disbelief. Finally, the most senior spoke up hesitantly. “Honored CEO—”
“President,” Iceni corrected.
“Honored . . . President, we failed in our mission.”
“Your mission,” Drakon said, “changed. The moment it became clear that you had no chance against the aliens and the rest of your unit died, your mission became to survive so that the records in your armor and your own personal observations could be of use to us in retaking Iwa for humanity.”
The woman’s eyes grew dark. “You are going to retake Iwa? Avenge our fellow workers?”
“Yes,” Drakon said.
“I will give you all you wish. Ask me! I will . . . I will even go back! I will go back there and fight them again!”
“I will, too,” the senior of the three added after a brief hesitation.
The third averted his eyes, shivering as he stared at nothing. Drakon, well aware of how stress could break anyone, spoke to all three of them. “I appreciate your volunteering. None of you will be required to go. All of you would need medical clearance before you can go, and that may take more time than we have before the assault force leaves here. Your observations, your experiences, anything you saw on Iwa, could be immensely valuable to us. When my people come by to ask you about them, be as accurate and complete as you can.”
“Yes, hon— Sir?”
“General. General Drakon.”
“You are no longer Syndicate?”
“No,” Drakon said. “We are free. And we will free Iwa.”
* * *
“KOMMODOR Marphissa has shuttled down to the planet for a conference on the Iwa operation,” Iceni told Drakon as she prepared to leave his headquarters. “We’re going to be discussing how many warships to send. Do you want to attend?”
Drakon shook his head. “Not unless you want me there. I’d just endorse whatever you decided.”
“How sweet.” Iceni shook her head back at him. “That’s not a requirement for being in a relationship with me.”
He grinned. “Good thing, since I wouldn’t always do it. But in this case, I don’t know much about mobile forces. You do, and you’ll be talking to the mobile forces commanders, who seem to be very good at their jobs. Is Bradamont going to be there?”
“Of course.”
“Then I’d just be taking up space and consuming oxygen other minds might be needing.” Drakon gestured back toward the inside of his headquarters. “What I do need to be doing is figuring out how to take that underground enigma base.”
“You deal with your area of responsibility, then, and I’ll deal with mine.” Iceni blinked and looked away. “How many are going to die this time, Artur?”
“I don’t know, Gwen.” He sought for the right words. “If we don’t do this, if the enigmas dig into Iwa and fan out from there, they’ll take down Imallye and every star system in this region. How many would die if that happens?”
“Too damned many.” She sighed, then forced a smile as she looked back at him. “Isn’t it odd to feel superior because you want to limit how many people die because of your orders? But we are better than the Syndicate, and whatever their reasons are we are better than the enigmas who would kill so ruthlessly and give us no opportunity to make a deal both sides can live with.”
“I think we’re better than Imallye, too,” Drakon said.
“That just leaves Black Jack, doesn’t it?” Iceni asked sarcastically. “We can’t claim to be better than him, can we?”
“We’ll have to try to better him,” Drakon said. “That’s the only way we’ll beat Imallye, the enigmas, and the Syndicate if they decide to throw in, too.”
* * *
ANOTHER conference room, this time in Iceni’s complex. Just outside was the star system command center, with a truly awesome and immense display that sometimes seemed capable of showing entire planets at one-to-one scale. Iceni had learned that such displays were traps, though. Looking at them, it was far too easy to believe that they showed everything, in perfect detail. What was far harder to realize was that anything the sensors could not see, anything unknown, would not be shown on the display. As capable as they were, the automated routines running the displays were incapable of conceiving of the possibility that their image of the universe was incomplete. Of course, they weren’t capable of conceiving anything, just processing known data as they h
ad been programmed to do, but that was very easy to forget when gazing at the godlike perspective a command center display offered.
She entered to find Kommodor Marphissa and Captain Bradamont already waiting, standing beside their seats. Two other places at the table were actually empty, but apparently occupied by the virtual presences of Kapitan Mercia and Kapitan Kontos also standing at attention. “Take your seats,” Iceni directed.
Marphissa and Bradamont sat down at the same time as Iceni, but the two officers attending by virtual means remained standing.
Iceni glanced at the time delays glowing beside the two images. Mercia aboard Midway was several light minutes from the planet, which would mean an annoying but endurable level of delay in any inputs she had to the meeting. Kontos, though, was nearly a light hour distant aboard Pele. This meeting would very likely have been over for a while before Kontos’s image finally sat down in response to Iceni’s direction. But even though he would not be able to provide his own opinions and advice, Kontos would get to see the deliberations and send onward later any suggestions he might have.
She nodded toward Marphissa. “You did a very impressive job at Iwa and Moorea. I regret not being in the command center to greet you in person when you arrived, Kommodor.”
Marphissa hesitated in her reply. “I . . . understand . . . that you were . . . otherwise occupied, Madam President.”
Iceni frowned at Marphissa, puzzled by the vague wording. “General Drakon and I have established a personal relationship. There is nothing remotely odd about CEO sleeping arrangements changing. Why is everyone tiptoeing around the matter?”
“I don’t know,” Marphissa confessed. “It just doesn’t feel appropriate with you and the General. Talking about it, I mean.”
Bradamont looked amused. “Congratulations, Madam President. You’re transcending your previous role as a Syndicate Worlds CEO.”