Iceni pondered that information while everyone else waited silently. “How confident are you of that assessment, Colonel Malin?”
“Very confident, Madam President.”
Togo. Apparently alive, apparently free to move about the city. But not in any contact with her, having disappeared just before Midway had almost fallen apart in a burst of attempted assassinations and social disruptions that had almost led to mass rioting. “What was he doing last night?”
“I was unable to determine my quarry’s mission last night, Madam President.”
That was vintage Malin. Confessing freely to his failures as if seeking punishment. “All access codes and security arrangements at my offices have been changed,” Iceni said. “But I know that would not stop Togo. Are you aware, Colonel Malin, that General Drakon has offered your services to me as a personal assistant?”
“Yes, Madam President.”
“If Togo makes it through all of my other security and guards, could you stop him?”
Malin took a moment to answer. “I don’t know. It would be difficult. I would have a chance of success, but I cannot quantify it.”
“He’s the best I have,” Drakon said. “There was only one better.”
“I wouldn’t care to have had Colonel Morgan for a personal assistant,” Iceni said dryly. “I would have been more concerned about any dangers posed by her than about any potential assassins. Colonel Malin, alert all security systems to key on Togo’s characteristics. If there is even a minor percentage match, I want it followed up. Notify all security forces that Togo is no longer classified as missing but as a potential security threat. Initiate mandatory password changes and security upgrades on all systems. If you, Colonel, find any indications of what Mehmet Togo may be up to, I need to know immediately.”
After another brief hesitation, Malin nodded. “Yes, Madam President. I . . . still assess that Togo is loyal to you, so I have had little success in determining his motives.”
Iceni waved toward Drakon. “Colonel, I have every reason to believe that the late Colonel Morgan was intensely loyal to your general. But some of the actions she took as a result of that loyalty were not in the best interests of your general.”
Malin nodded again, flushing slightly. “I understand, Madam President.”
Everyone else at the table carefully avoided reacting to Iceni’s words.
“Now,” she continued, “there’s the matter of aliens. Captain Bradamont, did Black Jack tell us everything that was known regarding the Dancers and the enigmas?”
Bradamont nodded. “Everything that was known as of that time. I don’t know if anything else has been learned since, but if it was anything critical I’m sure that Admiral Geary would have passed it on during his brief time at Midway last month.”
“He was in a hurry,” Iceni pressed. “You’ve seen copies of the transmissions made during that visit to this star system. What is your impression?”
“I believe,” Bradamont said slowly, “that his primary concern was just as he stated, that the longer his battle cruiser force remained at Midway the more likely that the Syndics, excuse me, the Syndicate Worlds, would block his access to the hypernet gate here, preventing him from quickly getting back to a star system much closer to Alliance space.”
“His primary concern?” Drakon asked.
“Yes, sir. I had the impression that he also wanted to get back to Alliance space as fast as possible for other reasons, but I could only speculate as to those.”
“Please do,” Iceni said.
Bradamont looked uncomfortable. “Internal issues. Alliance politics. Possible power struggles. I don’t know. But he didn’t recall me. Admiral Geary left me here to continue assisting Midway in any way I can. That at least means his wishes continue to have weight.”
“Weight?” Iceni asked. “You still maintain that Black Jack is not directly ruling the Alliance?”
“I am certain that he is not,” Bradamont said firmly. “He swore an oath to the Alliance. He gave his word of honor.”
Iceni barely stopped herself from a reflexive rolling of her eyes, and could see the other former Syndicate citizens at the table also having trouble suppressing their reactions.
Surprisingly, it was Gozen who spoke up. “That might mean something,” she offered. “It’s Black Jack. He doesn’t lie. The Syndicate does all it can to keep people from hearing anything, but in the ranks everybody knew what he’d done.”
“Besides,” Drakon added, “Black Jack wouldn’t have had any reason to withhold critical information from us. He knows we’re the front line against the enigmas.”
Iceni made a casting-away gesture with one hand. “True enough, but if Black Jack is tied up with events in Alliance space, he’s not going to be back here in force anytime soon.” A sudden thought came to her. “Those damaged Dancer ships. Could they have acquired that damage fighting a battle in Alliance space?”
“Black Jack against somebody else inside the Alliance?” Drakon asked. “Why would the Dancers help Black Jack in some internal fight?”
“They would if it involved something they cared about, and they seem to care about Black Jack,” Iceni said. She noticed that Bradamont, normally as composed as only a veteran battle cruiser commander could be, looked unusually rattled by the turn in the conversation. “Yes, Captain?”
“I . . . just . . .” Bradamont swallowed and regained her composure. “It could mean some kind of civil war within the Alliance. That’s difficult to think about.”
“But it is possible?” Iceni asked. “We’ve been living with various forms of rebellion inside Syndicate space for some time.”
“No, that’s not the same thing,” Bradamont insisted. “The Syndicate Worlds does not allow star systems to leave. You have to fight your way free. But if the people of a star system wanted to leave the Alliance, they would be allowed to go. They wouldn’t have to go to war.”
“Have any star systems ever actually left the Alliance?” Drakon asked.
“A couple. Usually not, though, because they know they can leave if they really want to, and that makes it easier to compromise. And both the Callas Republic and the Rift Federation have distanced themselves from the Alliance since the war ended, though neither has completely severed ties as far as I know.” Bradamont looked around at the others. “I can tell that you don’t believe me.”
Malin answered, his eyes hooded in thought. “It does make sense. If you hold a leash very tightly, the leashed animal will fight against it. As we have against the Syndicate. If you let go the leash, the animal will run. But if you give the animal slack, let it move about, it will not see the need to fight or run. You can work together.”
“Nice comparison, Colonel,” Drakon said dryly.
“It’s important, General,” Malin said. “I know that you and President Iceni are still discussing a grouping of star systems. Perhaps we should make that a principle of such an association.”
“We have other principles,” Bradamont cautioned. “In order to remain within the Alliance, star systems have to abide by basic rules of human rights, and freedom, and representative government. If they break those rules, the Alliance can intervene on behalf of the people. It is rare, but it has happened.”
“A leash still implies control,” Iceni said. “We will have to handle diplomacy with other star systems very carefully to ensure our offered hand is not perceived to be holding a chain. If they get that impression of us, we’ll never be able to depend upon them. We certainly do not have the means to force them to do as we want for extended periods. They might agree under conditions of a major threat like our battleship, but would balk the moment the battleship went elsewhere.”
She called up a display over the table, the stars in this region of space winking into life in front of everyone. “All right. We have already sent messages to the Dancers asking for more
information. From what we know, and from what Captain Bradamont has told us, it is unlikely that the Dancers will elaborate. But the mere presence of the Dancers here, along with the detection of an enigma reconnaissance ship at Iwa and the warning message the Dancers have twice given us, makes it look very much as if the enigmas will be able to attack other human-occupied star systems. What do we do about it?”
“There have been no reports from other nearby star systems of enigma ship detections?” Bradamont asked.
“Nothing from Taroa or Ulindi,” Colonel Malin said. “Those two star systems, along with Iwa, are the closest star systems accessible to the enigmas.”
“But Taroa and Ulindi are a bit farther away,” Iceni noted.
“From enigma territory to Iwa slightly exceeds the maximum we could manage with Alliance jump drives,” Bradamont said. “But it’s close. If the jump drives of the enigmas are similar to ours, they wouldn’t need a major breakthrough to manage that jump.”
“But there isn’t any jump point where that enigma ship arrived at Iwa.”
Bradamont frowned, her eyes on the stars floating above the table. “The methods we use to spot jump points are derived from the jump drives. Our sensors, and I assume Syndicate Worlds sensors, basically find any jump point that our jump drives can access. If the enigmas have tweaked the jump drives in a way that makes them more . . . sensitive? Effective? They might be able to spot jump points they can use but we cannot.”
“I like rational explanations,” Iceni said. “So, for the time being, assume the threat is confined to Midway and Iwa, but might expand to cover Ulindi and Taroa. Recommendations?”
“We must take Iwa,” Malin said.
“Iwa isn’t worth taking,” Drakon groused.
“But if the enigmas turn it into a base, establish a foothold there—”
“What does the Syndicate Worlds have on the other side of Iwa?” Bradamont asked.
“Not much,” Malin replied. “They have a shaky hold on Palau and Moorea Star Systems. We have information that Moorea may have already left Syndicate control.”
“They’ve declared independence?” Bradamont asked.
“No. We have not been able to confirm it yet, but it appears Moorea has been conquered by forces loyal to Granaile Imallye, who may be a warlord, or a pirate with a large appetite. Moorea would be the third star system that she has seized control over.”
“What does she title herself?” Iceni asked. “You can tell a lot about someone’s intentions by the titles they assume.”
“She uses no title,” Malin said. “She is just known as Granaile Imallye.”
“That does not give me a warm and fuzzy,” Bradamont commented. “Someone who doesn’t think they even need a rank or title to command is someone with a lot of confidence in themselves.”
“And a bit of an enigma as well, in the human sense of the term,” Iceni said. “But I don’t see any alternative to making direct contact with this Imallye and finding out her intentions. If the enigmas establish a presence at Iwa, and her forces are at Moorea, she’s going to end up fighting the enigmas, too, and perhaps soon.”
“I agree,” Drakon said. “We don’t have to like Imallye, but we can’t afford to be fighting her and the enigmas and the Syndicate. We have to find out if we can live with her, or if we’re going to have to get rid of her.”
“The Syndicate will take a while to recover from its losses at Ulindi,” Malin said.
“I agree with that,” Gozen said. “My old unit was the strongest Syndicate ground force in the region. Add in the warships that were lost and the troop transports that were captured, and the Syndicate took a big hit.”
“Don’t underestimate them,” Iceni said. “The Syndicate still controls a lot of star systems with a lot of resources. Even if they can’t overwhelm us at the moment, they probably have the means to push us hard. We need to send a ship to contact Imallye, and if I weren’t worried about attacks on Midway by either the Syndicate or the enigmas I would send Midway or Pele. But I want both of those warships on hand. I can’t spare a heavy cruiser, either, but I’ll have to. I don’t want an official contact with this pirate queen or warlord or supreme dictator to be in anything smaller than a heavy cruiser.”
“You’ll need a high-ranking representative aboard the heavy cruiser,” Bradamont cautioned. “Imallye will more likely react positively to contact with a senior official than if someone of lower rank is sent.”
Iceni glared up at the stars in the display. “Which means Kommodor Marphissa, doesn’t it? Damn. I can’t afford to have her gone, either!”
“You have some good commanders in Kapitan Mercia and Kapitan Kontos,” Bradamont said.
“Neither of whom has decent experience in commanding formations of warships!” Iceni fixed her gaze on Bradamont. “But you do.”
Bradamont shook her head. “I’m not supposed to get directly involved in combat—”
“Oh, hell, Captain! You’re here to keep Midway from falling to the Syndicate or to the enigmas!”
“My orders—”
“And if Midway falls to either you know what will happen to Colonel Rogero! He will die heroically, I have no doubt. But he will die. And so would you. Is that really what Black Jack would want?”
Bradamont stared fixedly at the display for several seconds. “I am allowed to use my discretion in emergencies,” she finally said.
“Good.” Iceni nodded as if the matter was settled. “Then you will go aboard Midway or Pele, at your discretion, and if we are attacked you will assume overall command of our warships.”
Gozen was staring at everyone else. “You’re seriously talking about giving command of almost all of your mobile forces to an Alliance officer?”
The laughter from Drakon momentarily shocked everyone. “Yeah,” he said. “We are. Can you imagine this a year ago?”
“A lot has happened,” Iceni said, smiling thinly in response.
“Hell, yeah, a lot has happened.” Drakon looked at Gozen. “Colonel, this Alliance officer is Black Jack’s. As crazy as it sounds, she is the best choice for that assignment. We’re not Syndicate anymore. Our warship crews respect Captain Bradamont.”
“Not all of them,” Bradamont muttered. “I’ll need to take my bodyguards along if I’m going to be riding Midway or Pele,” she added in a normal voice.
Gozen smiled in turn. “Taking your bodyguards everywhere? So you’ve become a little bit Syndicate yourself?”
“Please do not say that.”
* * *
A week later, the war-damaged Dancer warships having crossed the star system and jumped for Pele without ever disclosing where they had been or whom they had fought, Kommodor Marphissa sat on the bridge of the heavy cruiser Manticore as the warship approached the jump point for Iwa. Beside her was Kapitan Diaz, who was frowning with clear unhappiness. “Kommodor,” he asked in a low voice, “what if the enigmas have already taken Iwa?”
“Then I am to evaluate the situation and either continue on to Moorea,” Marphissa answered, “or return immediately to Midway.”
“The president gave you that much discretion?” Diaz said, surprised.
“She did. We’re not working for the Syndicate anymore.”
“That never would have happened if we were,” Diaz agreed. “But what if the enigmas have already mined the jump point we’ll arrive at, or have some of their warships stationed at it to catch any human ship that arrives?”
Marphissa smiled humorlessly. “In that case, Kapitan, you are to avoid hitting any of the mines, and avoid being hit by any enigma weaponry, until this ship jumps back for Midway.”
Diaz stared, then grinned. “Now that sounds like a Syndicate order!”
“Bite your tongue, Kapitan. You may jump for Iwa.”
But Marphissa, despite the banter with Diaz, could not help a jolt of anx
iety as the stars vanished and were replaced by the dull gray nothingness of jump space. Orders that left her the freedom to decide what to do also meant they left her the freedom to make the wrong choices. And if the enigmas were at Iwa when Manticore arrived, even one wrong choice might be one mistake too many.
CHAPTER THREE
“WE need to plan for an attack on Iwa. It might be against the Syndicate presence there, which would be an easy operation.” General Drakon looked from Colonel Rogero to Colonel Safir to Colonel Kai. His three brigade commanders. It still felt wrong, it would feel wrong for a long time, to see Safir there instead of Colonel Conner Gaiene. But Conner had died at Ulindi and would never be here again except in Drakon’s memories. “Or it might be against an enigma occupation force.”
“Which would not be easy,” Rogero commented.
“Has there ever been a ground fight with the enigmas?” Safir asked.
“None that we know of,” Drakon said. “To the best of our knowledge, some of the star systems they occupied over the last century had surviving Syndicate ground forces. But we have no idea what happened when the enigmas landed.”
“Black Jack’s information has nothing to offer?” Colonel Kai asked.
“No. They didn’t have any ground or ship-boarding operations, either,” Drakon said. “The one thing Black Jack’s reports emphasized was the enigmas will not surrender and will try to blow everything to hell before we can learn anything from it.”
“Themselves included?”
“Themselves included.”
“How much will we send?” Rogero asked.
“Plan on one brigade.” Drakon looked over his colonels again. “I don’t know which one of yours will be tapped for the operation if we go ahead with this. Each of you should assume it might be your brigade.”
“All of the brigades have been pushed hard over the last year,” Kai said.
“It hasn’t been as bad as some of the ops when we were under Syndicate control,” Safir pointed out.
“That’s not saying much.”
“No, it isn’t,” Safir conceded. Syndicate CEOs had never shown any worries about casualties, but then neither had Alliance generals as the apparently endless war had ground on. With vast populations to draw on, high-ranking leaders on both sides had developed a tendency to throw endless bodies into any fight in the hopes that enough deaths would choke the enemy killing machines.