Iceni studied Imallye for a long moment, then nodded to her. “Granaile Imallye. Or Grace O’Malley, as you called yourself when I knew you.”
“When you knew my father,” Imallye replied. “We’ve both changed our names, haven’t we, Madam President?”
“I was always Gwen Iceni, but now I have a different title.” Iceni clasped her hands before her. “I have a pretty good idea of what happened, but I would appreciate your confirming it.”
“I already told you,” Imallye said. “The Syndicate was worried about suppressing your rebellion, and about more star systems around here following you out of the Syndicate. I suggested a false-flag operation, where I would pretend to be a pirate warlord who had rapidly taken over a few star systems and acquired some powerful Syndicate mobile forces. That would fool rebellious elements in those star systems into thinking they already had a new master and fool you into thinking I wasn’t working hand in hand with the Syndicate. Having failed to take you down, and having put in place what it considered to be adequate safeguards against my betraying them, the Syndicate agreed to the idea.”
Iceni could not resist shaking her head. “The same basic concept as the Syndicate tried at Ulindi, only bigger. Faced with one defeat, the Syndicate tried the same tactic but on a larger scale, hoping that the result would be different. But the Syndicate’s safeguards against you were not adequate because you were not the CEO at Ulindi. You always intended to betray the Syndicate.”
“Of course I did.” Imallye waved toward the portion of space where the bulk of what remained of the Syndicate Worlds was located. “That’s what they taught us, isn’t it? Rules are for suckers. The strong do what they will, and the weak endure what they must. Do you know how old that quote is? Never mind. The point is, I owe you, because you created the opportunity I could exploit. Once I had those star systems under my nominal control, my agents could start setting things up for me to actually wrest control from the Syndicate. Same for the mobile forces that I had ‘captured.’ A lot of snakes died in a fairly short period of time. I don’t know where the Syndicate has been getting so many fanatics, but they must be running short.”
“You owe me.” Iceni made it a statement and a question.
Imallye fixed a dark gaze on her. “Yes. Not as much as you owe me, though.”
Colonel Rogero cleared his throat to break the resulting silence. “Granaile Imallye, are any of your people among those we brought off the planet?”
“Why do you ask?”
“I’d like to transfer them to you.”
“You would?” Imallye grimaced. “None are mine. The Syndicate brought that ground forces unit, and the mobile forces, and the families of those people, from another region. No ties around here. How bad was it?”
“On the surface?” Rogero inhaled, exhaled, then shook his head. “Pretty bad. At the current time, I think we, humanity that is, are outclassed by enigma ground defenses. We did recover some expended enigma weaponry that should help us identify their targeting mechanisms and other information. But we’ll need to work out new tactics and get some new systems fielded before we can successfully take them on the ground.”
“Interesting.” Imallye looked at Iceni again. “I didn’t know how this part would work out. I knew the Syndicate was planning to reoccupy Iwa, to lure you in, and I was supposed to hit you in the back while you were dealing with that. I came through Iwa so I could react to whatever happened, not to destroy you, even though you made such a major production of leaking your intention to also come to Iwa so I’d show up thirsting for your blood.”
“You were very convincing,” Iceni said.
“I’m always very convincing. Sincere? That’s another matter.”
“You say you did not intend attacking me, but there is the other matter of what happened when my ship Manticore visited Moorea Star System,” Iceni said.
“Oh, that?” Imallye looked mildly regretful. “I had to maintain the illusion. The Syndicate expected me to offer no quarter to any of your followers. If I had let Manticore go the snakes would have suspected that I might be faking, and I was not prepared to make my move yet. I really was happy when your ship instead escaped, and in such a clever way.” She smiled.
Iceni raised an eyebrow at her. “But if Kommodor Marphissa had not come up with a way to escape, you would have destroyed Manticore?”
“Of course I would have. You can’t make a stew without gutting a few fish.” Imallye grinned at Marphissa, and she smiled back, both of them looking like tigers baring their teeth at an opponent.
“What a lovely metaphor,” Iceni observed, glad that the two other women weren’t actually within physical reach of each other.
Marphissa spoke warily. “Mahadhevan commanding the HuK Mahadhevan was a fake? Not a real worker who had helped kill the officers and snakes on that ship?”
“Isn’t he a brilliant actor?” Imallye said. “The Syndicate ordered him to pretend to be a worker who had led a mutiny on that unit and killed all the snakes aboard, and as things worked out, he really did turn out to be the leader of a mutiny who killed all of the snakes aboard. After you had met him, of course. Wheels within wheels, Kommodor. Never believe the first level of whatever you see.”
“What are we to believe of what we see now?” Iceni asked. “What are your plans?”
Imallye gestured slightly with one hand. “The Syndicate is going to be a little upset. I need to defend against counterattacks by them. I also need to consolidate control of the three star systems that I actually do have charge of now and begin making some changes from the Syndicate way of doing things. I can’t afford that much corruption and inefficiency, and I’d like to know that my star systems aren’t likely to revolt against me the first time they see a good opportunity the way they would have against the Syndicate. What are we going to do with Iwa?”
“Neutral ground?”
“We need to keep an eye on it,” Imallye insisted.
“I suppose we do,” Iceni said, glad that she had manipulated Imallye into suggesting it. “We could alternate providing picket ships to watch the star system. I’m not enthusiastic about the idea of setting up any sort of orbiting or planetary base here.”
Imallye shook her head. “A base would just be a target. What about the Syndicate ground forces and citizens you picked up?”
Iceni gestured to Rogero to answer.
He met Imallye’s gaze. “We can’t leave them at Iwa. Everything they brought to establish a new base on that planet was destroyed, and the planet itself isn’t in too good a shape.”
“It’s going to be in a lot worse shape when that megarock hits it,” Imallye said.
“Yes. As in the past when we have captured Syndicate personnel or found ourselves with Syndicate citizens, we are going to give them a choice. Join our forces or emigrate to one of the star systems associated with Midway if they agree to full security screening, or return to the Syndicate if they want to risk that.”
“I don’t get a shot at them?”
“That depends on how you mean get a shot at them,” Rogero said.
Imallye bared her teeth in another grin. “I know about you, Colonel. What kind of man could get an Alliance fleet battle cruiser captain to give up her command for him? The sort of man who could survive that mess on the surface and rescue a lot of citizens as well, I think. I’ll be blunt with you. I’m willing to offer them the same deal. The right to move to a star system under my control, or join my ground forces, if they agree to a full screening to ensure they aren’t Syndicate agents.”
“I have no problem with that,” Iceni said.
“No quotas?” Imallye asked.
“No. If they all want to go to you, that’s acceptable.”
“Hmmm.” Imallye canted her head slightly to one side as she studied Iceni. “I’ll also be screening them to see if any are your agents.”
> “Of course. Are you willing to negotiate a boundary agreement?”
“Of course,” Imallye mimicked Iceni. “How about a supporting forces agreement?”
Iceni raised her eyebrows in surprise. “You’re willing to talk about mutual defense?”
“That’s what we just did here, isn’t it?” Imallye looked at Marphissa again, then at Rogero. “Besides, having seen your forces in action, I’d much rather be fighting alongside them than against them.”
“I’m sure we can work that out.” Iceni inhaled deeply, nerving herself for what she must say. “I want you to know that my expressions of regret were not a tactic driven by necessity. I dearly wish I had not accused your father and caused his death. I can never make that up.”
“No. You can’t.” Imallye smiled slightly this time, the expression not conveying humor. “And I want you to know that my expressions of hatred for you were not a tactic driven by necessity. I really do hate you, and always will.”
“Fair enough,” Iceni said. “I’ll keep an extra eye out for assassins.”
Imallye smiled again and leaned a little closer. “No. Trying to kill you would lead to war, and war would lead to more fathers and more mothers dying and leaving their children to grieve and plot revenge. I won’t have that on my conscience. There may be other assassins on your trail, but you are safe from me. I want you to live with your guilt.”
“Fair enough,” Iceni repeated, keeping her voice steady with some effort. “Your father would be proud of you.”
Imallye sat back again, the smile gone. “I hope so. At the very least, I have made the Syndicate pay very dearly for what they did to him.”
“You have,” Iceni said. “They badly underestimated you. I never did.”
“Lucky for you.” Imallye nodded to Iceni, then to Marphissa and Rogero. “I’m going to send half my flotilla back to Moorea immediately, but leave the other half here until I see the rock hit. I’d advise you to do the same. The Syndicate did not apprise me of their other plans, but I have reason to believe they were intending to strike at Midway Star System while you were gone. They can’t have much available to do that, but the cruisers and HuKs you left behind might find themselves with a difficult fight.”
“Thank you,” Iceni said. “I will also send half of my flotilla home immediately. The ones that remain will help guard the transports until we’ve sorted out who wants to go where. Will you need any help with the Syndicate troop transports that you convinced to join you?”
“No. They seem to be eager to avoid giving me any reason to destroy them,” Imallye said. “I will be leaving with the warships returning to Moorea, so I bid you farewell.”
Her image vanished, leaving Iceni with those of Rogero and Marphissa.
Rogero shook his head. “I’m glad we’re not fighting her.”
“Not yet, anyway,” Marphissa said darkly. “Madam President—”
Iceni held up a restraining hand. “I know. Don’t trust her. Keep our guard up. Imallye will either be a very good neighbor to have or a very dangerous threat next door. She might be both. But she knows I have commanders like you working for Midway, and I believe Imallye was absolutely sincere about not wanting to tangle with either of you. Anyone smart enough to have scammed the Syndicate the way she did, to have made that whole pirate queen act look real enough to fool everyone, is going to be smart enough to know that making an enemy of Midway would be a very big mistake.”
Marphissa nodded, mollified. “Will you really do what Imallye suggested?”
“Yes. We’ll see very quickly if Imallye is actually heading back to Moorea with half her force. I’ll leave you here in command of half of our flotilla, and take Midway along with the other half back home in case Captain Bradamont does need any help.”
* * *
GENERAL Artur Drakon left his command center after watching the warships that made up Ulindi Star System’s new fleet jump back to their new home. He still didn’t trust Jason Boyens, but had to admit that so far he had done just the sort of things that Gwen Iceni had hoped for. Boyens would probably end up effectively ruling Ulindi within a few years, but that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing since someone so focused on self-interest and so high on the Syndicate’s execute-on-sight list should work to make Ulindi strong and stable.
He found Bran Malin waiting in his office and automatically wondered where Morgan was. The two had been linked in their jobs for so long, it was still hard to realize that time was gone. “Is something up?” he asked Malin as Drakon sat down.
Malin nodded, standing respectfully, keeping any emotion from showing. Same old Malin. “General, I wanted to report a lack of activity.”
From anyone else, Drakon would have suspected a joke. But not Colonel Malin. “On whose part?”
“Colonel Morgan and Mehmet Togo.”
Drakon digested the news before speaking again. “Do you have any reason to think that either one is dead?”
“No, sir.” Malin frowned slightly. “A lack of activity on both of their parts would imply both had died, and that seems very unlikely. I believe that both have gone to ground.”
“Meaning that whatever they are planning is ready to go and they’re just waiting for the right time?” It never occurred to Drakon to ask if either had given up. That didn’t fit Morgan or Togo.
“I believe so, sir.”
Drakon leaned back, pressing his palm against his forehead and closing his eyes to think. “Are there any clues to their plans?”
“Both have tested defenses, General. Togo here, and Morgan at President Iceni’s offices.”
“You’re certain now that it was Morgan who tried to get to her, and not Togo?”
“Yes, sir.” Malin hesitated. “She never made any secret of the fact that she thought you should be sole ruler of this star system. And now that you and the President have an openly acknowledged relationship, there is the possibility of a child. An heir.”
“Another heir, you mean,” Drakon said. “Morgan wouldn’t want any offspring from me with anyone else. She thinks our daughter will conquer half the galaxy.”
Malin seemed to grow a little colder. “There are reasons to believe that Morgan is . . . less able to separate reality from her dreams. She may have been injured at Ulindi in ways that affected her stability, and while physically recovered might still be mentally feeling the impact.”
“And what about Togo?”
“I cannot be certain, but going through what is known and what was observed, I think Togo has his own dreams, General. President Iceni was not simply a boss to him.”
Drakon grimaced at that. “I suspected . . . but Gwen . . . I mean, the President, told me that Togo never behaved inappropriately toward her. He never tried to go outside the bounds of their professional relationship.”
“Not all forms of obsession manifest as physical desire,” Malin said.
That tread perilously close to ground that Drakon did not want to get into with Malin. He had once thought Malin’s relationship with Morgan was simply mutual loathing. But that didn’t explain why Malin had stayed working next to her for so long and risked himself to save her life more than once.
He changed the subject. “How confident are you that we will be able to spot them if either of them makes their move?”
“Not confident at all,” Malin said.
“Is there anything else we can do?”
“No, sir. Only wait, and keep our guard up.”
Drakon sat at his desk, doing nothing, for a while after Malin left. He wondered how things had gone at Iwa. Hopefully, they would receive some word from there soon. Hopefully, Gwen was all right.
He wondered what Morgan was thinking. Her contact number had been remotely wiped soon after he had left her that message.
He wondered where his baby daughter was, and what she looked like.
After a long time, Drakon got to work, trying to forget everything else.
But even that effort was frustrated, because before the day was over the light arrived showing that an Alliance courier ship had popped out of the hypernet gate. Immediately after arriving, the ship had broadcast a coded message with an urgent priority heading.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
THE message wasn’t addressed to him, and the code was one used only by the Alliance, but Drakon had no intention of letting an Alliance ship communicate directly with someone in this star system without his knowing what was being said.
He called Manticore.
“I assume that you are in receipt of the message from the Alliance courier ship, Captain Bradamont. I also assume that you have the necessary codes to read it. While we have respected your right to maintain security about Alliance matters, I nonetheless need to know if the message contains anything that bears on Midway Star System in any way. You may consider this a formal request for anything in that message that I or President Iceni should know. For the people, Drakon, out.”
Fortunately, Manticore had remained fairly close after escorting Boyens’s little flotilla to the planet. It only took fifteen minutes for the reply to come in.
“General Drakon,” Captain Bradamont said. She had her most professional attitude on, was wearing an immaculate uniform, and looked very calm and very determined. Bradamont was not on Manticore’s bridge, but in the privacy of her stateroom. “I am in receipt of both the message from the Alliance courier ship and your message asking for its contents. I should first inform you that the message is classified, but I am using my discretion as the senior local Alliance officer to override that classification and discuss the matter with you.”