“Yes, Madam President.”
As Iceni’s image vanished, Marphissa gazed once more at the situation in Iwa. The Syndicate flotilla was still nearly three light hours distant and just to the starward side of the bows of Marphissa’s ships and slightly beneath them. The Syndicate forces should have reached the planet holding the enigma base a short time ago, and would have probably dropped off the transports and freighters while proceeding onward to meet the enigmas. Marphissa’s own flotilla was heading into the star system, aiming for that planet’s orbit as well. Two light hours beyond the Syndicate forces was the enigma armada, which was visible just to port (away from the star) of Marphissa’s flotilla and several degrees above Midway’s ships. As of five hours ago, the alien armada had been on a vector aiming to meet that of the Syndicate flotilla.
Imallye’s flotilla had arrived from Moorea a little over four hours ago, and was coming in from far to port and just aft of amidships relative to Marphissa’s force. Because of where the jump point from Moorea was located and the times the other flotillas had arrived at Iwa, Imallye would have seen the other three groups of warships as soon as her ships left jump space.
The vector for Marphissa’s flotilla curved into the star system, aiming to intercept not just the orbit of the planet but also the Syndicate flotilla that was moving to meet the aliens. As Marphissa watched her display, the projected track of Imallye’s force shifted only slightly, aiming to swing past the stern of Midway’s flotilla. Mercia had apparently been right about Imallye deciding to hit Midway while the bulk of its forces were tied up in the fighting at Iwa. Hopefully, President Iceni would either persuade Imallye to join in the fight against the enigmas, or goad Imallye into chasing Marphissa’s force as it raced to meet the Syndicate flotilla and the enigma armada.
It was all already complicated enough. What sort of hidden strike could the enigmas also manage when their forces were clearly visible?
“Kapitan Kontos,” Marphissa said, slumping back and gesturing at her display, “if you were an enigma, how would you surprise us or anyone else in this star system?”
Kontos shrugged. “Reinforcements.”
“If more enigma warships arrive at their new jump point, we’ll have plenty of time to see them coming,” Marphissa pointed out. “And our path isn’t coming closer than twenty-three light minutes to any other planet in this star system, so even if the enigmas are hiding behind one of the planets we’ll still have time to react.”
“We will come much closer than twenty-three light minutes to our objective,” Kontos said, pointing to the world they were heading toward. “We are currently tracking to be within a few light seconds of that planet.”
Marphissa gave him a cross look. “It’s a buried installation. Deeply buried. Even if the enigmas have installed defenses on the surface we’ll be too far away for those weapons to threaten us unless we change our track and go into orbit about that planet.”
Kontos nodded, then turned a questioning look on Marphissa. “How do the enigmas supply that buried base, Kommodor?”
She looked back at him, thinking about the question. “There isn’t any landing area visible on the surface,” Marphissa said slowly. “The enigmas have to have some sort of capability to transfer bulk cargo from orbit to that base.”
Another nod from Kontos. “I would guess very large access tunnels covered with camouflaged doors of some kind. At least one, maybe more.”
“Hidden ways in and out of their base.” Marphissa smiled admiringly at Kontos. “That’s consistent with what Black Jack’s ships learned of the enigmas. They hide everything. I am impressed, Kapitan. How did you think of that?”
He actually appeared to be embarrassed by her praise. “I just thought, if there are insects underground like ants, you can always see how they get in and out. And buried human facilities as well. But we can’t see any accesses to the enigma base that we knew was being built. So . . .”
Marphissa nodded, eyeing the planet on her display. “Warships, maybe, already in deeply buried hangars, ready to leap out as human ships pass by. But if that is their plan, they won’t strike when the Syndicate gets there. They’ll wait for them to pass and plan to hit us or Imallye’s ships after the main enigma force has wiped out the Syndicate flotilla.”
“Is it that certain?” Kontos asked in a low voice. “The destruction of the Syndicate flotilla?”
“Yes,” Marphissa said without mercy. “You have seen the enigmas in combat, how fast and maneuverable their warships are, and how they attack without letup or concern for their own survival. The commanders of the Syndicate flotilla’s units do not have the benefit of having seen the enigmas in action, but even if they had it would make no difference. They know that. The Syndicate is badly outnumbered.”
“Why didn’t they run?” Kontos asked. “I respect that they turned to fight, but—”
“There must be a powerful reason. Perhaps we’ll find out what it is before the Syndicate forces are wiped out.”
* * *
THERE were times when it made no sense to try to manipulate others. When the truth should be laid out plainly. When an appeal to reason was infinitely better than any mind game or play on emotion.
This was obviously not such a time.
Gwen Iceni had gone to her stateroom aboard the battleship, the sort of grandiose quarters that suited a Syndicate CEO and thus were more than adequate for a star system president. She sat back in the large, comfortable chair that dominated one corner of the suite, resting her chin on one hand as she thought. Just to one side floated a display showing the entirety of Iwa Star System and the four groups of warships vying for control of it.
It was ironic, she thought, that a star system so poor in resources that the Syndicate hadn’t bothered to defend it properly was now being fought over by four separate powers who all wanted it.
Of course, Imallye only wanted the star system because she thought that Iceni wanted it also.
The enigmas wanted it as a springboard to begin wiping out the human presence.
The Syndicate wanted it back because someone else had taken it.
And herself? Iceni didn’t want Iwa. She just wanted Iwa Star System to be in the hands of someone who did not pose a threat to Midway Star System. Unfortunately, everyone else involved was a threat to Midway.
An ideal solution would have the enigmas, the Syndicate flotilla, and Imallye’s forces annihilating each other and leaving Midway’s flotilla unscathed.
No. That wasn’t an ideal solution. Iceni scowled at the image of Iwa’s star. I don’t want to have to worry about defending Iwa when I have my hands full defending Midway. But I also don’t need a vacuum here. I don’t want a vacuum here. I need Iwa in the hands of someone I can work with, so they can be responsible for keeping the enigmas out of human space at this location.
But I sure as hell can’t work with the enigmas even though Black Jack said they had political divisions among themselves. And the Syndicate doesn’t play well with others.
Which leaves Imallye, who hates me. I have to convince her that she can hate me and still work with me.
If Imallye learned anything from the Syndicate she must have learned how to work with people she hated. Everybody had to learn that survival skill.
Iceni composed herself, trying to look concerned but confident, mentally rehearsed what she wanted to say, then touched the message control. “Granaile Imallye, this is President Gwen Iceni. We have met before, some years ago. I freely admit that I have done you and your family a great harm. I was fooled into accusing your father of a crime, an accusation that not only resulted in his death but my own internal exile. I cannot ever adequately compensate you for my action, and I am aware that my own expression of deep regret is unlikely to bring you any real comfort.”
Iceni firmed her voice and her expression as she continued. “But our personal quarrel is of littl
e importance at the moment. Every human in this region of space faces a serious threat from a foe who has no interest in coexistence with humanity. I understand that you have expressed skepticism regarding the existence of the enigmas. The warships you captured from the Syndicate possessed the security software needed to scrub enigma worms from your sensor systems, and you can now see for yourself that the enigmas are real. Soon, long before my flotilla can reach them, the enigmas here will attack the Syndicate flotilla without mercy. I know this because I have seen them in action before. They will not hesitate to die rather than allow us to win or to learn anything about them. Since you have seen them, they will pursue you until they have destroyed every ship you possess and every trace of humanity in every star system to which you flee.
“Your vendetta with me has endured for more than a decade. It can wait a little longer, until we deal with this threat to everyone.
“Or, you can choose to attack me as my forces attempt to deal with the aliens. If I am victorious against them, I will not hesitate to destroy you afterward. If they defeat my forces, they will not hesitate to destroy you next.”
Iceni gestured with one hand, a reaching out and a casting away in one movement. “The choice is yours. As you have doubtless realized by now, you are no longer responsible for just your own welfare. You have many men and women depending upon you to lead them well and lead them wisely. You have many lives depending upon your decisions. You and I can resolve our issues once the threat to those who follow us is dealt with. Or you can be as foolish and stupid as I was over a decade ago and do what your enemies want you to do.
“For the people, Gwen Iceni, out.”
She sat back again, satisfied that there would be no doubt in Imallye’s mind that Iceni was here and that she was aboard the Midway.
Go ahead, Iceni thought. Chase me. Because I’m on a warship headed straight for the enigmas, and if you follow me you’ll find yourself mixed up in a fight with the alien armada whether you want it or not.
And then, maybe, you’ll forget about vengeance on me long enough to help us stop the enigmas, and finally be the woman your father surely wanted you to be.
The situation was complicated, but Iceni was pleased with herself as she returned to the bridge to make an appearance. It wouldn’t do for the president to be lounging in her stateroom while events were still developing.
As she sat down, Mercia gave her a troubled look, then spoke cautiously. “Madam President, there is something I do not understand.”
“What is that, Kapitan?” Iceni asked, certain that she could easily deal with whatever question Mercia had.
“Why did the Syndicate commit these forces to retaking Iwa instead of retaking Moorea or the other star systems that Imallye has taken from them?”
“Because—” Iceni began, then halted speaking as the implications of the question sank home. Why hadn’t the Syndicate hit Imallye first, then moved on to reoccupy Iwa?
“I have been wondering,” Mercia continued, “how Imallye accumulated so many warships so quickly, and seized three star systems just as quickly. I thought, perhaps, the Syndicate has focused its energies on retaking Midway.”
Iceni frowned at Mercia. “And yet we know that Moorea, at least, was restive as well and threatening rebellion, encouraged by our example. And we have learned that Imallye is not wiping clean the Syndicate structure in the star systems she has captured, instead substituting her choices for whichever Syndicate CEOs were ousted.”
“A false flag?” Mercia suggested.
“Damn.” Iceni no longer felt any sense of satisfaction. “They outthought us again, didn’t they? The pirate queen Imallye is operating at the Syndicate’s sufferance, giving a fresh face and a false face to the Syndicate system while also continuing to support it.
“It explains a great deal.”
She paused, thinking again, remembering Imallye’s father, and what she had heard of Imallye herself. “But I find it hard to believe that Imallye would stooge for the Syndicate like that. There is something missing in that explanation.”
Mercia hunched forward, eyeing Iceni. “How much do you know of her?”
“Imallye? Both too much and too little.” Iceni considered the question before saying more. “Her father was ambitious and smart. Clever, too. He tended to think a step or two ahead of his opponents and held his own cards close to his chest. He didn’t hide any of that, which earned him some admiration but also a lot of enemies.”
Iceni glanced at Mercia. “The problem was, no one knew what he would do next. Who would benefit from knowing him, and who would turn out to be a step to be trod over on his ladder to the top. I was far from the only junior CEO worried about what he might spring on me. That made it much easier to believe what I heard he was doing and reported him for.”
“So the question is, what are the cards that Imallye is planning on playing?” Mercia said.
“And what game it is that she’s playing,” Iceni agreed.
* * *
COLONEL Donal Hideki Rogero glared at the image of the planet that was his objective, wishing that the offending world would somehow spontaneously explode before he and his soldiers were landed there.
He still didn’t have a decent plan for assaulting that alien base. What he did have was an assortment of equipment which had been jury-rigged to perform in slightly different ways than designed. Whether that could defeat the assumed enigma capability to inflict full-spectrum blinding on attacking enemies was anybody’s guess.
But now he had to worry about not just the alien installation, but also a large force of Syndicate ground troops that were probably being dropped onto the same planet at this very moment. And those Syndicate ground troops might be human, but they would regard Rogero and his soldiers as enemies, so Rogero would have to worry about dealing with two different threats at the same time.
And what had the Kommodor said when Rogero had pointed that out? “I’ve got three different threats to deal with.” Which was certainly true, but not at all helpful.
He had less than a day to figure out how to win a fight that had just gotten worse after already being nearly impossible.
* * *
IT required another three hours for the reply to President Iceni to come in from the Syndicate flotilla.
Marphissa was surprised at the image she saw before her. Syndicate CEOs were required to maintain “standards,” which was a fancy way of saying that they had to always look perfect as spelled out in a multitude of rules, some of them written down and others unwritten but understood by anyone who dealt with CEOs with any frequency. Because of the political games and posturing among Syndicate CEOs, they could also be counted on to present a haughty and confident face to anyone of lesser or equal rank whom they dealt with.
However, the CEO commanding the Syndicate flotilla did not look arrogant or comfortable. His suit, instead of being freshly pressed, looked rumpled. He bore on his face and in his eyes the marks of too little sleep and too many worries. As he spoke, his voice carried not the whiplash of orders or demands, but the quiet fatalism of someone who needed help that he knew would not be coming.
“President Iceni, you know that I cannot agree to the deal that you have proposed,” the CEO said. “I am under orders to attack and destroy your mobile forces whenever and wherever I encounter them.”
His lips twisted in a sardonic smile. “But you know that my units are soon to be engaged with another foe. Our chances are . . . not very good. I fully intend to carry out my orders by confronting and destroying all enemy forces in this star system, but there is a high probability that my flotilla will not be . . . one hundred percent successful in that effort when we engage the enigmas. And so I must ask of you a favor even while I refuse to work with you in defeating a common foe.”
The smile slipped away from the CEO’s face. “You have seen that we have troop transports and freighte
rs accompanying my flotilla, and that these units have been left at the planet to off-load their passengers and as much cargo as possible before the enemy reaches them. Those passengers are partly ground forces, and partly the families of our crew members and of the ground forces personnel. The Syndicate ordered them to accompany us, to ensure that we fought our hardest to defend this star system.”
Marphissa stared at the CEO’s image in disbelief as his words hit home. Families. The Syndicate had sent citizens, men, women, and children, into a war zone to stiffen the spines of the military units tasked with holding Iwa against any more attacks.
Iceni’s image appeared next to Marphissa. “That’s why the Syndicate mobile forces are acting the way they are. Look at that bridge shot from the Syndicate flagship. Not a snake in sight. That’s how the Syndicate is handling the losses of so many snakes in recent battles. There aren’t any snakes on the warships. The snakes are with the families of the crews, ready to enforce the will of the Syndicate without risking themselves on the warships. And the warship crews are going into a hopeless fight to try to save their families.”
The Syndicate flotilla commander struggled with his words as he continued. “I . . . ask . . . that you take what measures you can to . . . save anyone from the transport units who is . . . still alive after we have done our best to stop the enigma force. I cannot compel your aid in this matter. I cannot promise anything to you in payment. I can only . . . ask.”
He straightened, regaining some composure. “My flotilla will do its utmost. For the people, Juvenale, out.”
Marphissa sighed and rubbed her face with both hands as the message ended. “He said the last phrase as if he meant it.”
Iceni nodded in agreement. “If he was thinking of the people on those transports and freighters, I am certain that he meant it. He and his crews are preparing to die for those people, for their people. Can we save them, Kommodor?”