“Send her in.” As Bradamont entered, Iceni kept her eyes on the waves, then finally turned and faced the Alliance officer. “Good afternoon, Captain.”
“Good afternoon, Madam President.” Bradamont, looking as out of place as ever in her Alliance fleet uniform, also revealed some curiosity. “You requested that I come to see you?”
“Yes.” Iceni walked back to her desk and sat down, waving Bradamont to a chair as well. “Do you realize the level of irony that you encapsulate, Captain?”
“Probably not.” Bradamont took her seat, then gave Iceni a speculative look. “Do you mean the fact that I’m helping a former Syndicate star system fight off its enemies?”
“That’s just part of it.” Iceni waved again, and the star display sprang to life, many stars hanging in silent splendor in the air to one side of her desk. “The biggest part is this. You are an officer of the enemy, the Alliance, the force that the Syndicate, that people like me, fought and hated and killed and were killed by, for the last century. And you are also the only person in this star system that I can completely trust.”
“Surely—”
“No, not General Drakon or my closest aides or anyone else in this star system can have my full trust. In fact, all of my training and experience cautions me that the less trust I place in them the better.” Iceni leaned back. “I suppose that feels very alien to you.”
Bradamont crooked a smile. “Not compared to the enigmas. Madam President, I have worked for or with more than one person in Alliance circles who seemed to personify the same concepts of not trusting anyone. I do have trouble grasping the idea of an entire society organized along those lines.”
“Even after being here awhile?” Iceni gestured toward the door. “You left your bodyguards outside. You’ve become accustomed to having bodyguards accompany you whenever you leave the ground forces headquarters complex, and you didn’t question that those bodyguards did not come in here.” She touched a control on her desk and a slight rumbling transmitted through the walls and doors. “At a single command, I can turn this office into the equivalent of a citadel on one of our battleships. There is that much armor, that many active and passive defenses, built into it. Right now, it would take an immense amount of effort to break into here.”
Bradamont looked around, impressed. “It’s amazingly well concealed. You have those defenses because of the enigma threat?”
“Every star system CEO has an office like this, Captain. Because we fear our own citizens, the people, more than we fear the Alliance or the enigmas.” Iceni touched the control again, deactivating the defenses. “That’s what I want to talk to you about. Not my warships, but the people.”
“Your people?”
Iceni hesitated, then nodded. “Yes. My people. That’s hard to say. I’m not supposed to care about the workers. They’re just another form of spare part. When one breaks, you throw it away and get another, and the fewer resources you invest in them, the better.” She made a face. “It’s supposed to be efficient, but as far as I can tell, it leads to immense inefficiencies. That’s a problem I’m trying to correct.”
“General Drakon shares your assessment of that problem,” Bradamont said.
“Yes. That is one of the factors that led me to first reach out to him as a potential ally.” Iceni rested her elbows on her desk and clasped her hands in front of her, looking at Bradamont over them. “Here’s the core of my problem, one that I can only talk about to you. Any government rests on certain legs. The more legs, the more stable it is. A traditional Syndicate star-system government depends on four legs for stability. One is the CEOs, another is the Internal Security Service, the third is the mobile forces, and the fourth is the ground forces. If one of those legs falters, the other three keep the government stable, keep the citizens in line through fear and coercion, although frankly the snakes don’t falter very often.”
Bradamont nodded, her eyes intent with thought. “In the Alliance, our star-system governments depend upon support from the people, the different branches of the government itself, the business community, out of self-interest, and backup from the Alliance government if they need assistance. I guess that adds up to a lot more than three legs.”
“When it works as intended?” Iceni pressed.
After a moment’s hesitation, Bradamont nodded again. “When it works as intended. I’m going to be honest with you. There are some in the Alliance who believe that things like secrecy and strong internal security are the most important pillar of the government.”
Iceni laughed. “If secrecy and strong internal security were the answers to stability, then the Syndicate Worlds would have been the most stable government in the history of humanity. Haven’t you learned anything from us?”
“Perhaps we’ve learned the wrong things,” Bradamont said. “Some of us, that is.”
“You wouldn’t be the first.” Iceni traced an idle pattern on the surface of her desk with one finger. “Now, we have Midway Star System. How many legs support this government?”
Bradamont frowned. “Four?”
“Two.”
“But . . . I was thinking the leaders, you and the general, the people, the ground forces, and the warships.”
“No.” Iceni shook her head to emphasize the word. “There are only two legs. One is me, and one is General Drakon. The people do not yet form a supporting leg. It’s not a role they are used to, they do not trust General Drakon or me because they have spent their entire lives not trusting their leaders, and such lessons are hard to overcome, and they lack experience in guiding their own affairs. My warships will not act against the people on my orders. I could tell Kommodor Marphissa to bombard a city, and she would not do it.”
“You’re right,” Bradamont said. “If she did pass on the order, her crews would rebel rather than carry it out.”
“And what does Colonel Rogero tell you about the state of the ground forces?” Iceni asked.
Bradamont smiled sardonically. “I know you’ve been informed of that. They are loyal and will support you, but they won’t fire on the citizens. Not anymore.”
“Exactly. The citizens are not a leg. They are a club that could knock our legs out from under us.” Iceni brooded for a moment before saying more. “So we depend on two legs. What if something happens to Drakon or me? Then we’re trying to balance the government on one leg. It can be done, by balancing opposing forces and doing whatever is necessary, but it is a constant struggle and requires a cold-blooded willingness to betray, murder, and subvert in any way necessary to keep the government standing on that one leg. If you misjudge, if something happens to you, it topples.”
“You want something better than that?” Bradamont asked.
“I want . . .” Iceni spent a few more moments in thought. This wasn’t something she could risk saying to anyone other than Bradamont. “I would like to create something that depends for stability on many legs, none of which are fear of our own or of others or of the unknown. I would like to spend days coming up with new things to do, new horizons to explore, not putting out fires and plotting and trying to keep the whole mess from toppling into ruin. I would like to know that I can someday retire and not worry about being put on trial or murdered by my successor. I want to build something that endures. Something that people don’t dread but truly do see as their protector. I want the sort of thing I have never seen. And, yes, I want people to remember that I built it.”
“If you do build something like that,” Bradamont said, “you will be remembered. Why are you telling me this?”
“Because you’re not one of us, you haven’t been poisoned by the experiences we have had, and because I am worried, Captain Bradamont. I am worried about external enemies. But I am also worried about the mood of the people of this star system, who have this bright, shiny new toy offering them more freedom, more power, and more responsibility than they have ever been allowed in Syndicate space. You know what has happened in many other star systems as Syndicate contr
ol weakened or collapsed. Fragmentation of authority, internal fighting, endless argument and warfare over who gets to control things. I sense this star system tottering on the edge of such a cliff precisely because I have allowed the people here more right to decide and to rule themselves, and they simply lack the experience to do so without repeating the mistakes of the only form of government they really know—the Syndicate form of government. Moreover, there are agents among them, enemy agents, snakes and possibly others, who are trying to create trouble, feeding fears, trying to get our people to do things that will knock the legs out from under this government.”
“Does General Drakon share those fears?” Bradamont asked.
“No. Or, at least, he hasn’t expressed them in any form I can see.” Iceni waved toward the star display again. “General Drakon is focused on external threats, on building . . . well, defensive walls. And he’s not wrong that we need to deal with Ulindi. He wasn’t wrong that intervening in Taroa was in our best interest. He was willing to spend precious resources to let the people of Kane, those who still survive, know that we want to help them and that we are nothing like the Syndicate. However, the walls won’t do us any good if the people inside them go on a rampage.”
“But you’re focused on internal stability,” Bradamont said. “In a good way, from all I am hearing. Is that a bad division of labor? General Drakon looking toward external threats and you to internal stability?”
“Not if you put it that way,” Iceni conceded. “You have to understand that neither General Drakon nor I have much experience with actually working together with other CEOs. What seems to you a reasonable division of labor seems to us to be a dangerous ceding of authority to someone else.”
“Or, ceding some authority to the people?” Bradamont suggested. “That’s the same thing to you, isn’t it? Something dangerous?”
“It is. I’ll tell you frankly,” Iceni added, “that it’s easier to trust Drakon than it is to trust the people, but neither comes easily. What do you know about the situation regarding Colonel Morgan?” It was strange how hard it was to say that woman’s name without putting her feelings into her tone of voice.
Bradamont made a face. “Only what Colonel Rogero was told, that Colonel Morgan no longer speaks for General Drakon and no longer has command authority. I understand she has also been sent on a special assignment.”
“What is your impression of Colonel Morgan?” Iceni asked.
“She scares the hell out of me,” Bradamont admitted.
“That makes two of us. Why do you suppose General Drakon placed so much trust in her for so long?”
Bradamont hesitated. “I am reluctant to betray confidences . . .” she began in more formal tones.
“If you don’t want to talk about what Colonel Rogero has told you, just share your own impressions.”
“Then I would say that General Drakon trusted her because Colonel Morgan has a fanatical level of loyalty to him. He could tell that. Maybe he was flattered by that, especially coming from a woman like Colonel Morgan. But I don’t think General Drakon was manipulated by her. I think he believed her and believed in her.”
“Men.” Iceni put a world of meaning into the single word.
Bradamont smiled. “They all need some work, don’t they?”
“As do all of us,” Iceni said. “I would welcome your suggestions, Captain Bradamont, on handling the people in this star system.”
“I think you’re doing a good job,” Bradamont said. “But you are, I believe, absolutely right that the people need to become a stable leg of the government. That means they need to see the government as their government. They need to see you not just as the leader but as their leader. Whatever you do has to reinforce the idea that you and the people are the same. Words won’t matter, not among people who are used to their government’s lying to them. What will make a difference is what you do. The steps you have taken to reform the legal system for example, to make it a system actually interested in justice, are very important. The changes to the legal system are a bit disruptive, but you can’t afford to halt them because simply halting forward progress would be seen as backsliding.”
“Very true, but if the citizens begin rioting, if they are provoked into rioting, my options will be limited,” Iceni said moodily.
“I understand. One thing Admiral Geary always emphasized to us was to think in terms of what the enemy wanted us to do, what the enemy expected us to do, and not to do those things. If agents hostile to you are trying to stir up your people, then they want you to do certain things in response to that.”
Iceni nodded, impressed that Black Jack had known that. But of course he knew that. Based on what he had accomplished, Black Jack was twice the political schemer that anyone else could ever be. “Yes. War and Syndicate politics have a lot in common. One of my own early mentors gave me the same advice. Never let the wolves herd you in the direction they want you to go, is what he said.”
“Do you have any idea what direction the wolves want you to go, Madam President?”
“I can only speculate,” Iceni said. “But my best guess is that they will want me to do things that foster an image contrary to what you suggested. They want to push me to act not as the leader of the people but in a typical Syndicate CEO manner, arrogant and dictatorial.”
Bradamont looked around the office. “A short time ago, you showed me how easily you can turn this office into a fortress, because Syndicate CEOs fear their own people. Is it possible your enemies will want you to act in that way as well, as someone who fears and distrusts the citizens rather than someone who is their leader? Something as simple as holing up in here would convey a powerful message. The citizens won’t believe that the government is their government if it is hiding behind walls and armed guards.”
“That would be the wrong kind of message,” Iceni agreed. “If I look fearful, I look weak, and if I am fearful of my own citizens, that means I don’t trust them, or that I am doing things that I don’t want them to know about. I would look very much like a Syndicate CEO and not like a president. Yes. Thank you for pointing that out. Distrust of the people, fear of the people we rule, is so much a part of the way I have been trained to think that I could easily have fallen into such displays without even realizing what I was doing.”
“How serious are your concerns at this moment?”
Iceni rested her head on one hand as she looked at Bradamont. “Captain, can you walk through a ship and feel the state of the crew? Their mood and their morale?”
“Yes,” Bradamont said.
“I can do the same with the citizens. Yes, I sometimes disguise myself and go out alone to walk among them. There’s no better way to get a sense of how they really feel, and there is an instability there that worries me. The citizens are the Achilles’ heel of this star system. Our opponents know that.”
“Can I speak of this to Colonel Rogero?”
Iceni considered the question before answering it. Anything Bradamont told Rogero would surely be passed to Drakon. “No.” She laughed. “My pardon, Madam Military Emissary of the Alliance. I can’t order you around. It is my wish that you not discuss the matter with Colonel Rogero as of yet.”
“I will respect your wishes in the matter, Madam President,” Bradamont replied. “But I will say that I do not believe that you have any grounds to fear General Drakon. He has given explicit orders to his commanders not to move against you.”
“Unless the orders to move against me come from him,” Iceni said wryly.
“He didn’t caveat the instructions at all, Madam President. He said do not move against the president. Period.”
Iceni looked at Bradamont, sitting with a straight-backed military posture, her uniform adorned with rank insignia and the ribbons representing medals and commendations won in long years of fighting against the Syndicate. It was hard to believe that a woman who had been through so much could be so naïve. Drakon knew that Rogero would tell you and that you were likely to
tell me. So this reassurance means nothing. But you, with your honor, can’t even see that. “Thank you. Have you seen anything else that you believe I should be aware of?”
“I assume that you’ve been getting reports on the progress of fitting out Midway and getting her ready for battle.”
“Yes.” Iceni leaned forward a bit. “The reports say that everything is going well. In fact, if I didn’t trust Kommodor Marphissa as much as I do, I’d be inclined to think they were exaggerating the amount of progress.”
“They’re not,” Bradamont said. “The crew is working very hard, and Kapitan Mercia has come up with a number of improvements to procedures that are allowing much more rapid progress than would have been possible under the old system.”
“The Syndicate system, you mean.” Iceni remembered references to that. Mercia had conceived of the improvements years ago, but of course the Syndicate bureaucracy hadn’t been interested in changes suggested by some mobile forces executive. “The vast majority of Midway’s crew is made up of survivors from the Reserve Flotilla. What is your impression of them?”
Bradamont sketched a brief smile. “They know their business. They are also highly motivated. There is a pervasive sense among the crew that they were dishonored by the actions of Executive Ito.”
“Dishonored?” Iceni asked, making clear her mockery of the term.
“I’m sorry, Madam President, but I don’t know any other term that fits. Perhaps none of them understand what the Alliance fleet calls honor, but I feel that they understand dishonor, even if they could not place that name on it. They are determined to make up for what Ito tried to do. And they all know that you saved them. Kommodor Marphissa never hesitates to remind them that the flotilla that picked them up from Varandal, that escorted them safely here past the Syndicate, was ordered to do that by you despite the risks.” Bradamont smiled again, her eyes challenging Iceni. “They don’t want to let you down, after you have done so much for them.”
Iceni made a snort of combined disbelief and derision to cover up her internal confusion. Bradamont couldn’t be right. Workers didn’t think like that.
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