“I will keep your importance in all matters in mind, CEO Janusa,” Marphissa replied.
“That’s how you have always dealt with CEOs, isn’t it?” Iceni asked, her earlier mockery shifting to an unpleasant self-appraisal. “We are all so important.”
Marphissa was bold enough to answer truthfully. “Not all CEOs were alike, but all had to be treated the same way.”
“OBSTLT,” Iceni added sardonically.
“Or Be Subject to Life Termination,” Marphissa agreed. “I chose to back you, all of the commanders of these warships chose to back you, because we believed you were different enough in important ways.”
“You backed me because you saw an opportunity for greater advancement.”
“That was not the only reason, and in some cases not the reason at all.” Kommodor Marphissa grinned. “I have just contradicted a CEO to her face.”
“You obviously haven’t made a habit of that in the past.” Iceni regarded her carefully. “What is it you want, Kommodor? You and the others?”
“We want you to care as much about what happens to us as you do about what happens to you.”
“You don’t believe in asking for small things, do you?” Iceni looked back at her display. “I have a responsibility to those who work for me. Don’t assume that makes me some sort of . . . humanitarian.”
“I would not presume to accuse you of such a thing, Madam President.”
“Good.” Iceni let her gaze rest on the inhabited planet. Nearly five light-hours distant, so her message would not be received there until that time had elapsed, and any reply would take at least as long even if sent immediately. At least ten hours before she received any answer, and she had slept poorly earlier due to worries about what they would find here at Kane. “I am going to get some rest. Notify Colonel Rogero that it will be approximately forty hours before we expect to employ his ground forces. And notify me of any significant changes in the situation.”
“Yes, Madam President,” Marphissa said, all business again. “What about the readiness state of the warships? Do you wish them maintained at condition one?”
“No.” There had been times when Iceni had been under the command of CEOs who kept their crews at maximum combat readiness for days at a time so they would be “ready for anything.” The actual result had been that the crews were totally exhausted when they finally encountered the enemy, and thus far from being ready. She would not repeat that mistake. “Bring the warships back to standard cruising readiness state. Make sure every unit commander knows that I want the crews well rested when we get close to that gas giant.” There wasn’t anything humanitarian about that, either. It was simply good planning.
Nonetheless, the wave of relief that swept through the junior officers and specialists on the bridge was so strong that it almost felt like a physical thing. Iceni suppressed a smile, recalling the days when she had resigned herself to indefinite time on a bridge duty station while the enemy was still several light-hours distant. Everyone on the bridge knew that their target was a battleship, yet all of them seemed confident and cheerful. She could not understand it.
As Iceni closed the hatch on her stateroom, she felt the sense of respite that came from being behind a locked barrier. How long had it been since she could go out among others without worrying about who was at her back?
She felt more confident about Marphissa, though. The woman showed every sign of being smart, capable, loyal, and willing to speak truth to power. That last was often regarded by CEOs and sub-CEOs as an annoyance at best, but Iceni knew the value of that quality in a subordinate when married with the other virtues. Assuming that Marphissa really was all of those things, particularly loyal.
Did they really decide to back me because they thought I would care what happened to them? I suppose I do care, to the extent that I wouldn’t abandon them to the enigmas when things seemed hopeless. That was my responsibility as the CEO in charge of the star system. That’s how I operate—I do my job right—and not taking care of them now, when my fate rests on how well they perform in battle, would be foolish.
She lay on her bunk, gazing upward, wondering why the memory of the cheerful confidence in the crew made her feel rewarded. Their opinions didn’t matter. They didn’t matter. She had been taught that all of her professional life.
But, then, she had rebelled against what she had been taught, hadn’t she?
Because that system had failed.
* * *
“CEO Janusa.” The man sending the message seemed to be cautiously welcoming. Iceni didn’t recognize him. “I am CEO Reynard. Welcome to Kane. I congratulate you on your victory in the Midway Star System and would be appreciative if you would forward me the details of the fighting there so that I can learn from your example.”
He’s not a CEO. He’s talking like a sub-CEO, trying to flatter me as a way of gaining information. Interesting.
“CEO Reynard” had taken on a concerned look. “I must inform you that our mobile forces facility orbiting the fourth planet was recently picked clean of supplies by another Syndicate flotilla. If you will instead proceed to the second planet, I will ensure that your flotilla receives any support that it requires. That will allow you to resupply as quickly as possible so you can proceed with your assignment. For the people, Reynard, out.”
So, “Reynard,” what is your real name and what is your real game? Have the Syndicate Worlds been overthrown here? What happened to CEO Chan, who was in control here the last I heard? He could have been swept up by the snakes, in which case you could be a Syndicate replacement, promoted rapidly after the ISS cleaned out the CEO ranks in this star system.
He also seems eager for us to leave. One thing I can be certain of is that “Reynard” doesn’t want us going to the gas giant. That’s a good sign. “Maintain course for the mobile forces facility about the gas giant,” Iceni ordered Marphissa.
She thought about her next step, then activated her comms.
“This is CEO Janusa responding to CEO Reynard. Unfortunately, I lack the time for a diversion to the second planet of this star system. My flotilla will proceed to the mobile forces facility, where I am certain I will be able to acquire whatever I need. For the people, Janusa, out.”
Another message. “This is CEO Janusa to the commander of the flotilla located near the fourth planet of this star system. I am here under direct orders from the government at Prime. I wish to be contacted by your commander as soon as possible. There are urgent requirements that necessitate changing your tasking.” Those requirements being the need to get you farther away from that mobile forces facility so I can have a free hand there.
“CEO Janusa is really throwing her weight around,” Kommodor Marphissa commented after Iceni finished sending the second message.
“She’s a real bitch,” Iceni agreed. “That will ensure that no one questions whether she’s a real CEO. Have you had any luck informally contacting the commanders of any of the warships in that other flotilla?”
“I’ve sent them some feelers via the unauthorized back channels in the comm system, but no replies yet.”
“Let me know the instant there are. I’d much rather collect those warships as additions to my flotilla than have to fight them.”
They were twenty-eight hours’ travel time from the mobile forces facility.
The next message came seven hours later, from the facility orbiting the gas giant rather than the inhabited planet. “CEO Janusa, please alter vector and proceed to the second planet. I regret to inform you that we have had an outbreak of serious illness following the last flotilla’s visit to this facility. We have yet to identify a successful treatment. More than half of our personnel are already incapacitated. For the people, this is acting facility commander Sub-CEO Petrov, out.”
“She looks in good health for someone overseeing a plague-struc
k facility,” Iceni commented. “Kommodor Marphissa, I want your ship’s physician to evaluate the appearance in this message of Sub-CEO Petrov, if that is indeed her real name.”
Marphissa passed on the order, then turned to Iceni. “If they are suffering from possible plague conditions, then regulations call for the facility to have already been broadcasting a standard warn-off when we arrived in this star system. Instead, this message comes at a time delay consistent with having received orders to send it from the authorities on the second planet after those authorities had heard your reply to their request that you divert there.”
“What an astounding coincidence.”
Listening to an internal message, Marphissa nodded. “Understood,” she said. “Madam President, my unit’s physician says that Sub-CEO Petrov was clearly under stress when she sent the message but showed no signs of illness or long-term stress outside normal parameters for a sub-CEO.”
Iceni watched the slow changes in the positions of objects on her display as her flotilla raced steadily toward the gas giant, and as the planets, moons, asteroids, and comets in the Kane Star System swung much more slowly about their sun or each other. “The flotilla near the gas giant still hasn’t moved. How long can they wait to move and still be able to intercept us before we reach a position where we can see behind the curve of that planet?”
“Approximately . . .” Marphissa shrugged. “Three hours before we reach the gas giant. It depends on just where behind the curve the battleship is located.”
Something didn’t feel right, and Iceni finally knew what it was. “They’re trying to warn us off. We’ve ignored the warn-offs. You know how things work. If the first admonition or threat doesn’t work, you escalate until you find something that the other side has to pay attention to. What do they have that we would have to pay attention to?”
Marphissa’s frown only lasted a moment. “A battleship.”
“Yes. If they swing out that battleship and say ‘Stay out, this is a restricted area,’ even CEO Janusa would have to listen. They haven’t done that yet, though.” Neither had the flotilla commander replied to her direct order to contact her. That was also odd. “Still not a word from any unit in that other flotilla?”
“No, Madam President. Nothing.”
Iceni frowned. “When I was executive rank and even sub-CEO, that would have been very unusual. We always contacted by back channel other units we encountered to pick up the latest unauthorized information so we could anticipate events or prepare personal defenses against negative actions.” But no one in their right mind would ever have admitted to a superior that they did it. She had sometimes wondered how much more the Syndicate Worlds might have accomplished if its executives didn’t expend so much effort working internal politics. The war had often seemed to take a backseat to inner power struggles.
“Really?” Kommodor Marphissa asked, trying to project surprised innocence. “If that sort of thing still happened, and of course I’m not saying it ever does, but if it somehow did, I would expect it to happen under these circumstances. But it hasn’t.”
“Somebody has even the back doors locked down,” Iceni mused. “Have the snakes slaughtered the crews on those warships like they did on HuK-6336?”
“If they did, they could be at a disadvantage in a battle. They’ll only be able to operate the units using automatic controls since they might lack the crew to do the jobs otherwise.” Marphissa eyed her display. “Or there could have been a revolution, and the crews of those units don’t want to give themselves away to us since we have superior numbers.”
“All possibilities.” Iceni stabbed an internal comm control. “Colonel Rogero, have you been monitoring ground forces communications in this star system?”
“Yes, Madam President.”
From the way he always carried himself and spoke, Rogero seemed to be even more professional than Drakon’s praise had indicated. It made all the more mysterious his lapse in getting emotionally involved with an enemy officer. Unless that enemy officer was something truly exceptional herself. And there’s no sense asking Rogero that question because if he’s in love, he’ll think she’s the only woman like her that has ever been or will ever be. Love has far too negative an impact on anyone’s ability to think clearly. “Is there anything out of the ordinary at all?”
“Only one thing. All communications appear to be routine.”
“And that is out of the ordinary?” Iceni asked.
“It is when we’re here, Madam President. There should have been some reaction, some discussion, something to reflect our presence. There has been nothing.”
“Can you tell me what that means, Colonel?”
“No. It is unexpected and unusual. That’s all I can say. Wait.” Rogero had turned and was talking to someone else, then faced Iceni again. “My comm analyst has found no signs of comms with any ground forces that might indicate those forces are aboard a battleship near the gas giant. They wouldn’t be communicating directly with such forces if they wanted to hide their presence from us, but there are always leaks in other comms where someone references supplies or a personnel movement or something else that compromises the secret. We haven’t seen anything like that.”
“So all we will face are crew members?” That was good news.
“Madam President, it appears unlikely that there are any ground forces aboard that mobile unit, but if a force of vipers or other snakes is on that battleship, we wouldn’t be able to tell. The ISS is very good at concealing information within apparently routine communications.”
Perhaps not good news after all, then. “I appreciate your assessment, Colonel. We will be at the gas giant in twenty hours. How long will it take your soldiers to board the shuttles when I order an assault on the battleship?”
“Two minutes. We will be armored up and ready.” Rogero hesitated. “You do realize that if a major portion of the battleship’s weaponry is active, our shuttles will not survive to reach the mobile unit. A shuttle’s survival time on that kind of an approach is measured in seconds.”
“I understand.” She hadn’t realized the odds against the shuttles would be that bad, but it probably depended upon just how much of the battleship’s weaponry had been activated.
After Rogero had signed off, Iceni considered her remaining options. There weren’t many other things that she could do to influence events right now, but there was one big thing remaining in her arsenal of surprises. “When we’re closer to the gas giant,” she told Marphissa, “I will drop the disguise, tell them who I am and what we represent. If they are snakes, that will bring them out of hiding. If they aren’t, they’ll know they can avoid a fight.” Twenty hours left until they reached the facility, and likely seventeen hours until the other flotilla moved.
Iceni gazed at the representation on her display of her own flotilla. The warships were in the standard Syndicate mobile forces formation, a box with the three heavy cruisers side by side in the middle, the four light cruisers posted at the rear corners of the box, four of the HuKs at the front corners, and the other three HuKs just below the heavy cruisers in the center of the box. A simple arrangement, with firepower concentrated in the center, and easy to shift direction without changing the configuration of units because all the warships had to do was swing together onto new vectors. It had worked for decades against the Alliance, if by “worked” one meant that it allowed the Syndicate Worlds’ flotillas to slug it out with Alliance fleets until the survivors on whichever side prevailed could claim victory.
And then Black Jack had shown up, and massive flotillas started disappearing, wiped out in battles with the fleet led by him. I’ve seen what records we have of the battles. He used all kinds of different formations, swinging them all over in every direction, somehow bringing them all together at the right moment to hammer our flotillas. What I wouldn’t give for lessons from Black Jack on how to
control a force of warships in battle. But what do I have that he would want? Access to our star system? I can’t deny him that. He has a fleet that dwarfs anything I could muster.
Is he the sort of man who craves conquering every woman he meets? If so, that would give me one thing to offer. He can’t have had many Syndicate CEOs. But that doesn’t match what I’ve heard of him, or how he acted when we spoke, and . . . and I really don’t want to do that. If it was mutual desire, that would be one thing, but if it was for some gain then I would be selling myself, and for all my sins that is one thing I have avoided. Perhaps my rivals would define my actions differently, but that’s what I believe.
“Madam President, is something wrong?” Marphissa asked.
Aware that some of her inner turmoil must have been showing, Iceni put on a mask of straightforward thoughtfulness. “I was just contemplating our formation and whether I should change it if we have to fight.”
“I think that depends on the status of the battleship,” Marphissa suggested.
She was right. Iceni nodded. “I’ll make the decision when I have the necessary information.”
So far, though, necessary information seemed to be in short supply in the Kane Star System.
* * *
THIS time, “CEO Reynard” had on a more aggressive front, perhaps because Iceni’s flotilla was only five hours’ travel time from the mobile forces facility by the time the message from him was received. “CEO Janusa, access to the mobile forces facility has been restricted by order of the Syndicate Worlds. You are required to divert your flotilla from its current course and proceed to the second planet, where your supply needs will be met, after which you can proceed on your missions outside this star system. Failure to comply with this direction will constitute disobedience to a directive of the Syndicate Worlds. For the people, Reynard, out.”
Iceni considered her reply. Events were reaching the point at which decisions would take on momentum that would be hard to alter in the time remaining. What would most likely produce the reactions she needed from the people in Kane, and in particular those in the warships in the other flotilla?