Iceni’s hatch alert chimed. She checked her surveillance and security devices, confirming that only Marphissa stood there and that she was unarmed. “Enter, Kommodor.”
Marphissa stood for a moment after entering the stateroom, as if uncertain of herself. “Madam President, I wanted to say something to you.”
“You’re grateful for command of the battleship.” Iceni waved her off. “That’s understood. I think you can handle it.”
“No, Madam President. It’s not about me. I wanted to tell you, to thank you, for what you did in Kane. For ensuring that those citizens from the mobile forces facility were saved.”
Iceni leaned back and regarded Marphissa curiously. “Did you know any of them?”
“No, Madam President.”
“And you surely knew what a threat their ways of thinking posed to you and me personally, as well as to the stability of our home.”
“Yes, Madam President.”
“And you knew that they had killed everyone on that HuK that tried to escape during the fighting on the facility. Mobile forces personnel like yourself among them. So why did their fate matter to you?”
Marphissa hesitated again. “It is very easy to kill, Madam President. Too easy. Saving a life is harder, and not expected. I wanted you to know that I am grateful that, despite all of the things you have just accurately noted, you still strong-armed that freighter into saving those citizens.”
“All right.” What else was there to say? “I had my reasons. Let me tell you, if those citizens had killed our people, had destroyed one of my HuKs, I wouldn’t have lifted a finger to save them.”
“That would have been justified,” Marphissa agreed, “even if it was not just.”
“What?” Iceni sat straighter. “Not just?”
“What I mean, Madam President, is that if those citizens had done that, not all of them would have been responsible. The leaders would have given the orders, and some might have followed them, but others might have thought those orders wrong and not participated in the destruction of the HuK at all.”
“And what does that have to do with anything?” What is Marphissa driving at?
“The entire group would have been punished, Madam President, regardless of their individual actions.”
“And what would you have preferred I do differently if that had been the case?” Iceni asked. She could easily use her tone as a whip to indicate displeasure or disagreement, but she kept her voice composed out of curiosity to learn Marphissa’s reasoning.
“A trial, Madam President,” Marphissa said.
“A trial?” That again? “To produce a finding of guilty that has already been determined? What’s the point of that? You sound like those citizens I heard about before we left, the ones who think our justice system needs to be fixed.”
Marphissa paused once more before answering. “Do you believe the justice system that we have inherited from the Syndicate Worlds needs to be fixed, Madam President?”
“Offhand, no,” Iceni said. “It delivers punishment quickly and surely. The guilty do not escape. What would I fix?”
“The purpose of a justice system isn’t to punish the guilty, Madam President. Punishment is easily administered. The reason a justice system exists is to protect the innocent.”
Iceni stared at Marphissa in astonishment. “Where did you learn that?”
“The Syndicate Worlds tried to eliminate every document, every book, that didn’t match their own beliefs, but it is very hard to destroy every thought that humans have committed to writing.”
“The underground library?” No one officially knew such a thing existed, but unofficially everyone had heard of it, and many found ways to access it. Rather than being a single building or process, Iceni had heard the underground library compared by the ISS to an infestation of electronic vermin, springing up in every star system, wriggling into every possible access, popping up someplace else as fast as one way in was sealed off. “You can’t believe everything you read. Punishing the guilty is necessary for any system to survive, for anyone to be able to feel safe. That must be our priority.”
“The guilty?” Marphissa asked, her breathing getting deeper and faster. “And if an innocent person is instead punished?”
Iceni shook her head. “There are no innocent persons. We are all guilty of something. It’s merely a matter of the degree of guilt and the seriousness of our crimes.”
“That is what we have been told, Madam President! What if there is another truth?”
“How can we compromise security and say that we are protecting the people?” Iceni demanded.
“Protecting the people? Madam President, the legal system of the Syndicate Worlds protects only those with power and wealth and punishes only those too weak to save themselves! If the goal is to protect the people, then why are the crimes of those who rule us never punished?” Marphissa stood rigidly straight now, her eyes registering defiance and perhaps some fear.
No matter how many thought it, no one was ever supposed to say it. Not to anyone superior in position. It was one of the first rules that everyone in the Syndicate Worlds learned, or they became early casualties of their own lack of discretion. “You presume much based upon our short working relationship,” Iceni said in her coldest voice.
“I presume much based upon who I think you are,” Marphissa replied. “Madam President, no matter your own motives, no matter how you act, what of the others in authority? You may protect us from injustice and punish only those who deserve it, but what of the others who control our destinies? What controls them?”
Iceni sat watching her silently for a long time, unable to think of an adequate response. The traditional reaction of a CEO to her words would have been to have Marphissa arrested and turned over to the snakes. Unless Marphissa knew something about Iceni that she didn’t want the snakes to know, in which case the prisoner would unfortunately die in an accident prior to the snakes’ gaining custody. The snakes were gone, but someone else could easily be found to fill the same role if Iceni were the sort to do such a thing to someone who had served her well and shown no disloyalty otherwise. It rankled Iceni that Marphissa had correctly judged that she would not take an action like that. “Kommodor, you should return to your duties,” she finally said.
“Yes, Madam President.”
“Kommodor.”
Marphissa paused in the hatch, turning to face Iceni and stand at attention, lacking only a blindfold to look like someone already facing a firing squad.
Until she spoke, Iceni wasn’t sure what she would say. “I much prefer those who speak their thoughts to my face to those who speak them behind my back. I will think on what you have said.”
Wise enough not to offer a reply, Marphissa saluted and left.
Iceni ensured that the hatch was sealed again and all security active, then sat and closed her eyes. Does that fool think that I’ve never suffered from the Syndicate so-called justice system? I know its flaws as well as anyone.
She had never sold her body, but she had been forced to yield it twice, each time to men who were far enough above her in the corporate hierarchy to know that they were safe against any penalty for their actions. Even as young and inexperienced as she had been then, Iceni had known that if she had tried to charge them with crimes she would have been the one convicted of “unjustly defaming” Syndicate officers. She had instead turned her desire for revenge into a climb for power, so she could get into a position to strike back, but both men had died before she could do so, one in an industrial accident and the other during a battle with the Alliance.
How many others had suffered the same way that she had? She would not be a victim. She would find a means for revenge. But revenge had been denied her by chance.
Marphissa had avenged herself for the death of her brother. A death brought about only by an allegati
on of wrongdoing. Should only the strongest have a means to justice? And that form of justice had only been vengeance. Nothing that Marphissa, or anyone else, did could have brought her brother back to life after he was executed for the crime of being accused of wrongdoing by someone who profited from that accusation.
Did punishment truly serve a purpose when all knew it was a weapon with no guidance, mowing down low-level criminals but also anyone unfortunate enough to fall under suspicion or to have something someone more powerful desired?
That’s the question, isn’t it? We talk about the need for safety and security, but how many citizens of the Syndicate Worlds have ever slept feeling safe and secure? No. We spent every day, every night, wondering when the heavy knocks would come on the door, when the door would be broken open, when one of us would be hauled off to answer for crimes whether or not we ever committed those acts. I’m the most powerful person in the Midway Star System, and I hide behind locked doors and security systems even when I have bodyguards on call. Safety and security, hell.
Iceni sighed, leaning back again, her eyes still closed. How do I fix that and still keep myself, and others, safe? Capturing that battleship may turn out to be one of the easiest things I’ve had to deal with.
I hope General Drakon is having an easier time. I ought to be worried about what he’s doing, but for some reason I don’t understand, I feel safer knowing that he’s watching things at Midway. Hopefully he can handle anything that comes up before I get back.
* * *
“A flotilla has arrived at the jump point from Lono,” Malin reported over the hoot of alarms behind him.
Drakon was in his command center in a heartbeat. Haste was absurd when the enemy had just been sighted six light-hours fifteen light-minutes distant, but it still felt necessary. Human reflexes insisted that an enemy in sight was an imminent threat, and human bodies and brains still responded to that ancient imperative. “Son of a bitch,” he muttered as he took in the information.
Two heavy cruisers, three light cruisers, four HuKs. And he had exactly one heavy cruiser to deal with them. It didn’t take an expert in mobile forces to know those odds were lousy. “Colonel Malin, inform the commander of C-818 that President Iceni has concealed a large explosive charge in her unit, and if C-818 doesn’t hold its ground and defend this star system, I have the codes to detonate it.”
Malin hesitated. “A heavy cruiser isn’t so large that she won’t be able to eventually discover that there is no such charge, General.”
“All I need is for her to have to remain here while she looks for it. We need some defensive presence.”
Morgan had also arrived and shook her head. “For a moment I thought our President had actually done something smart.”
“If she did,” Drakon said, “I don’t know about it. We haven’t heard anything from that flotilla yet?”
“No, sir,” Morgan said. “They didn’t send anything the moment they arrived here.”
“That’s odd. I would have expected an immediate demand that we surrender.”
“They’re heading . . . for the hypernet gate,” Malin reported. “They took up that vector immediately upon leaving the jump point.”
Drakon glared at the display. “No Syndicate flotilla would destroy that gate deliberately. They know there’s no longer a threat of the gate’s wiping out this star system when it collapses, but the Syndicate Worlds needs that gate. Why destroy the primary reason they want control of this star system back?”
Morgan suddenly laughed. “Oh, hell. They didn’t come here to attack us. They’re supposed to just pass through.”
“How long will that buy us?”
“Not long at all, General. Right now, they’re picking up lots of comm traffic floating around about General Drakon and President Iceni and the independent Midway Star System, and they’re noticing there’s nothing on the ISS circuits at all. Maybe they’re even picking up comments about the snakes here being dead.” Morgan pointed toward the display. “They’re deciding what it means, and they’re deciding what to do about it. Say you’re the commander of a flotilla and have a chance to reconquer a star system that has pulled out of the Syndicate Worlds? And the only mobile forces the rebels have is a single heavy cruiser? What would you decide, General?”
Drakon nodded heavily. “We’ll probably get their demand for submission to them within half an hour. I am open to suggestions.”
“Talk,” Malin said. “Keep them at arm’s length as long as possible. President Iceni could return at any moment.”
“Tell them you’ll collapse the gate if they attack,” Morgan suggested.
That sounded potentially useful.
“What would you do if I made that threat, Colonel Morgan?” Malin asked.
She paused, then shrugged. “I’d call your bluff.”
“Because it would have to be a bluff, a threat we dare not carry out. If the gate collapses, the value of the infrastructure in this star system shrinks to almost nothing. Control of the star system could be achieved simply by wiping out everyone and everything here by bombardment. They would no longer care what we might do in retaliation for that bombardment.”
Morgan scowled but nodded. “That’s right.”
“Then—” Drakon began, to halt when a comm alert sounded. “Twenty-five minutes for them to evaluate the situation and issue their demands. Let’s see what they say.”
He didn’t recognize the woman sending the message. She looked older, and his first impression was of caution. But first impressions could create later mistakes. Drakon concentrated on what she said and how she said it.
“This is CEO Gathos for the rebels in the Midway Star System. You are to surrender immediately, acknowledging the authority of the Syndicate Worlds, and deliver to me your primary leaders, former CEOs Drakon and Iceni, and their senior staff. If you do not transmit your capitulation within half an hour of your receipt of this message, I will initiate bombardment of noncritical infrastructure. For the people, Gathos, out.”
“Do you know her?” Morgan asked.
“No,” Drakon said. There were a lot of CEOs in the Syndicate Worlds. Iceni might know her, but if Iceni were here to tell him about Gathos, then Iceni would also be here with more mobile forces. “Assessment?”
“She means it,” Morgan replied.
“Agreed,” Malin said.
“Half an hour, or she starts throwing rocks. That rules out talking to buy time.” He looked at the display again, where the path of the Syndicate flotilla had altered, curving down toward the star and toward this planet. Half an hour to reply. Gathos and her flotilla wouldn’t hear that answer for six hours, but he still had to send it within the deadline.
“Pretend to surrender,” Morgan said. “The ship that delivers you to them will have commandos aboard, and we’ll take one of their heavy cruisers. That’ll give us two heavy cruisers to their one, or at worst, they’ll have one left, and we’ll still have one.”
To call that plan desperate was to understate things. “Malin?”
He shook his head. “Colonel Morgan’s plan is a very weak reed on which to base our survival, but I can’t see any other option that offers better odds. The only other thing I could suggest is prayer.”
“Prayer?” Despite his tension, Drakon smiled crookedly. “What would I pray to, Colonel Malin? And what would have any cause to listen to my prayers?”
“Only you could know the answers to those questions, General.”
“Then if you are so inclined, feel free to pray to whatever you can think of that we get out of this in one piece. But also get moving on Morgan’s plan.” He knew it had no chance at all. The moment he surrendered, the locals would start creating trouble, objecting to the return of Syndicate authority and tying down his troops, and the commander of C-818 would have plenty of time to confirm that the
re were no hidden explosives and either head for distant star systems at high speed or surrender her heavy cruiser to Gathos.
But a very small chance was better than none at all. Drakon’s hand hovered over the reply control.
“General?” Morgan sounded baffled. “They’ve turned.”
“What?” He looked back at the display, seeing that six hours ago, CEO Gathos’s flotilla had bent its course again, turning away from the star and aiming straight for the hypernet gate. “What the hell is she doing?”
“Maybe she lost her nerve.”
“Why? Because she looked up my service record? Somehow, I doubt that.”
They kept watching, but the Syndicate flotilla stayed with the vector it had steadied out on. Drakon’s eyes went to the time. The half-hour time limit was about to expire. “Maybe Gathos is trying to trick us into not surrendering so she has an excuse for pounding this star system into rubble.”
Morgan had been watching the movement of the flotilla with narrowed eyes, and now shook her head. “No. She’s running. I’d stake my life on it.”
“You are.”
“Oh, yeah. I am.” Morgan grinned fiercely. “But maybe I can get to Gathos before I die.”
A sudden laugh from Malin sounded at the same time as another alert from the display. He pointed. “Now we know why CEO Gathos changed her mind about trying to reconquer this star system.”
At the jump point from Kane, another flotilla had appeared. Heavy cruisers, light cruisers, and Hunter-Killers arrayed around the unmistakable bulk of a battleship. “President Iceni’s units arrived closer to the jump point from Lono than we are, so the light from their arrival reached CEO Gathos’s flotilla before it reached us. She would have seen immediately that Gathos’s flotilla was here, and issued a threat that would have reached Gathos at almost the same moment as Gathos saw our reinforcements.”
Drakon laughed, too. From the planet, the battleship didn’t show any signs of being barely operational. Its huge, threatening, ugly, beautiful hull seemed to gleam wickedly among the much smaller warships surrounding it. “President Iceni, this is General Drakon. I am really happy to see you. Welcome back. For the people, Drakon, out.”