Marphissa’s image nodded again. “Of course they do, Madam President.”
“Then why would you stay to fight, Kommodor?” Iceni demanded.
“For the people, Madam President.”
“What did you say?” Iceni asked, thinking she must have missed Marphissa’s actual reply and only caught the end of the transmission.
“I am staying, this flotilla is staying, to fight for the people, Madam President.”
Once again, Iceni took a few moments to answer as she tried to find the right words. “For the people? You intend waging a hopeless fight for people who are certain to die anyway? For an ideal?”
“Death is a certainty for us all sooner or later, Madam President. I would rather die for an ideal than for profit, or live knowing that I would not do all that I could to defend those who cannot defend themselves. I know you only ask me because you want to be certain that I believe as you do, that I am also willing to die for those who depend upon me.”
Iceni barely avoided betraying her shock this time. Die for the people? Does she think I’m that naïve?
I did reject Togo’s advice to flee immediately. But I did that because . . .
Why the hell did I do that?
Not to look weak compared to Artur Drakon. That must have been the reason.
And now she had to worry about how she looked next to Kommodor Marphissa, who was one of the few people in this star system who might have a chance to escape but instead was choosing to stay and fight a hopeless battle.
For the people.
Marphissa’s workers also knew what choices she had, the crews, now designated specialists by Iceni’s orders to give them pride in their particular jobs. Those words would inspire the crews, help them fight when the fight was without hope. But Marphissa’s attitude, as useful as it was in this extreme case, could also create problems in the future.
If there were other days or a future for them all, which seemed extremely unlikely at the moment. “Very well, Kommodor. Take your flotilla to the gas giant, unite your forces, and defend this star system.” She issued the death sentence for those warships and their crews with the sort of pang she had long since learned to bury away inside when ordering the executions of individuals.
“Yes, Madam President.” The Kommodor paused. “One question, Madam President. The entire flotilla? I can leave one Hunter-Killer in orbit in case it is needed after the rest of the flotilla has been destroyed.”
In case it was needed for Iceni to flee this planet, this star system.
Do you want me to die “for the people” or not, you young fool? Iceni silently demanded of Marphissa’s image. Nonetheless, faced with the final decision, she knew the answer. She would stay. Sending off all the warships, every fast means of escaping, meant the commitment was real. Maybe I’ve gone crazy. But I have started to build something here, dammit! It may be flawed and it may be foolish but it is mine! I will not leave it to the enigmas or to Boyens. I won’t even leave it to Drakon. It is mine. Including my insane Kommodor and her crews rushing off to fight a battle in the name of ideals the Syndicate Worlds gave lip service to but tried in every way to eradicate.
Rushing off to die by my order, in my name, because they believe I also accept such ideals. Am I to be proud of that or shamed by it? All of my training and experiences in the Syndicate tell me that only a fool would feel either emotion.
I suppose I am a fool.
Iceni shook her head. “No. All warships are to go with you. General Drakon and I will remain in charge here.”
“We knew that would be your answer,” Marphissa said, smiling. She brought her right fist over to rest above her left breast in the Syndicate salute, but gave the routine gesture a ceremonious solemnity. “For the people, Marphissa, out.”
You knew? How could you have known when I didn’t know until this moment? During her long and distasteful climb to CEO rank, almost every mentor of Iceni’s had warned her against subordinates who assumed too much or who acted in inexplicable ways.
But it was done. The decision had been made. And Marphissa had provided excellent service in the past. She would no doubt continue to be invaluable for however many hours she and her warships continued to exist.
Iceni dropped her privacy field and looked toward General Drakon. “I have ordered Kommodor Marphissa to take all warships out of orbit. They will meet up with the other heavy cruisers at the gas giant, and the unified flotilla will engage . . .” Iceni swallowed, wondering why her throat had suddenly tightened. “Will engage the enemy, fighting until they are destroyed,” she finished.
A prolonged silence was broken by the respectful voice of Colonel Malin. “All warships, Madam President?”
“Yes, that is what I said,” Iceni snapped, not certain why she felt so angry at the question. She pretended not to be aware of the subdued reaction sweeping through the command center, of the workers looking at her with amazement and gratitude. You are happy because I’m not leaving you to your deaths? Is it so easy to buy your loyalty?
Drakon walked toward her, moving with reassuring solidity. She hadn’t realized how much she liked that, to see him stride forward, all stubbornness and strength. An anchor in a world where all certainties had given way. “Good,” he said, as if Iceni’s words reflected some prior consultation and agreement. “Let’s talk about our plans for defending this planet.”
“Certainly,” she said. A man who publicly backs my decisions without hesitation and yet maintains his own authority! If only you weren’t a CEO, Artur Drakon. I could love a man like you if I could trust you.
She let her gaze flit across Colonel Malin, looking for any indication of warning in his eyes or posture. Drakon had no idea that Malin had been for years secretly providing her with inside information, and he would have included one of his most trusted aides in any plans to betray her. But Malin gave no sign of warning as Iceni turned to walk beside Drakon toward one of the secure conference rooms opening onto the command center.
“What exactly did your Kommodor say?” Drakon asked, as the door sealed, and the small security lights over it turned green to confirm the room’s countermeasures were active.
Iceni told him.
“Damn,” Drakon said. “She really is an idealist. I didn’t think there were any of them left in the Syndicate Worlds. Or anywhere else.”
“There probably won’t be any of them left in this star system much longer. She worries me,” Iceni said.
“I can see why. But you need someone like that in a fight like this.”
“And after the fight is over?” Iceni asked.
“The strongest horse is the hardest to handle,” Drakon said.
“What the hell does that mean?
“It means that the best subordinates need to be led rather than coerced, but they usually turn out to be worth it in a crisis.” He looked around, his hands moving, as if seeking something else to do. “I’ll keep my troops digging in. Most of that activity will be in the cities and towns, which might upset the citizens. But if it comes to a fight to the death, my soldiers can hold out the longest in an urban environment even if it’s been pounded to rubble by the enigmas.”
Iceni leaned both hands on the table in the center of the room, gazing at the synthetic coral surface but seeing in her mind’s eye the multitude of islands that dotted the planet. “The aliens are four and a half light-hours away. If their ships perform like ours do, we have three or four days before they can get here, depending on exactly where the enigmas go. Would it make sense to evacuate the citizens? Disperse them among the islands?”
“Can they get food and water?”
“From the oceans, yes. Fishing boats can deliver their catches to the islands instead of port cities, and there are many portable desalinization units.”
Drakon shrugged, looking unhappy. “It’s your call, but if you send citizens out to
the islands, they’ll be easily spotted by the enigmas when the alien ships get close enough.”
“And then every island will be a target for bombardment,” Iceni said. “And the small islands will be more concentrated targets than the cities are.” She knew how it worked. She had participated in some planetary bombardments during the war with the Alliance, giving her memories that she shied away from, as well as the occasional nightmare despite every treatment modern medical science could offer to cope with what someone might have seen. Or done. “There’s not enough land area on this planet to disperse everyone.”
“No,” Drakon agreed. “There isn’t.”
“And any large bombardment projectiles that hit the water will generate tidal waves that swamp the low islands. I’ll do what I can to keep the citizens calm and work out a limited evacuation. Maybe the enigmas won’t slaughter civilian families if they’re unarmed and obviously no threat.” She knew that was wishful thinking. Drakon was trying to hide his skepticism and not quite succeeding, but she couldn’t blame him for that.
“We don’t know what has happened to citizens in star systems taken over by the enigmas,” Drakon pointed out.
“We know we’ve never heard any trace of them afterward.” Iceni took a deep breath, stood straight, and met Drakon’s eyes. “I’ll do what I can and keep sending occasional messages to the enigmas and Boyens. If either of them reply, I’ll negotiate.”
“And I’ll make sure my troops are ready when the enigmas get here.” He offered her a half-mocking salute. “Did you ever watch those old drama vids? The ones about that ancient empire and its arena fights to the death?”
“Yes. The gladiators. We who are about to die salute you.” She returned Drakon’s salute, smiling sardonically. “Are you going to betray me, Artur?”
He looked back at her, no answering smile appearing. “No. Do you believe me?”
I want to. “I think we both have no chance of survival, no matter what we do. It’s annoying, actually. I always hoped that I’d be able to choose my own death.”
Drakon glowered at the floor, then raised his gaze to her. “It won’t be a stab in the back. Not from me.”
He sounded like he really meant it.
“WHAT the hell are they doing?” In her frustration, Iceni spoke her thoughts out loud. “It’s been twelve hours, and they’re just sitting there!”
The only other person in the office off the command center was Mehmet Togo, who seemed momentarily uncertain as to whether he was expected to reply.
Iceni glared at the much smaller version of the star-system display floating above the conference table in this office. “I know what Boyens is doing. He hasn’t answered me, and his flotilla hasn’t moved because he’s minimizing the risks to himself. He’s going to do nothing, pretending to be ready to charge to the rescue of the humans here while actually preparing to run back to the hypernet gate and escape.”
“If he does flee,” Togo pointed out impassively, “then CEO Boyens will have to provide justifications for his superiors back on Prime explaining why he could not save this star system from the enigmas.”
“He’s doubtless working on those excuses right now,” Iceni said scathingly. “Prime won’t accept the impossible odds as a justification, especially since it looks like Boyens will have to claim he did all that he could but didn’t suffer a single scratch fighting either us or the enigmas. But his excuses don’t have to be valid. They just have to sound good. I understand Boyens and what he is doing well enough. But the enigmas. What are they doing?”
She glared at the display again as if it could be intimidated into providing the answer that Togo could not. The enigmas had proceeded in-system only thirty light-minutes from the jump point from Pele where they had arrived. The alien attack force had braked there, all two hundred twenty-two ships, and since that time had hung in orbit, unmoving relative to that jump point.
“What possible reason would they have for sitting there?” Iceni demanded. “We’re at their mercy. They must know that.”
She shot to her feet and walked out of the office, ready to demand that someone in the command center provide an explanation for the inexplicable.
The first person Iceni’s eyes locked on was General Drakon, standing talking in a small group that consisted of him, Colonel Malin, and Colonel Morgan. Note to self, Iceni thought as she concealed her reaction to seeing Morgan again. If we survive this, have a long talk with Drakon about why he keeps that murderous bitch around. Loyalty to subordinates is one thing, and Togo has told me enough about how capable and deadly Morgan is to make it clear why Drakon values her, but the woman is borderline psychotic. I don’t care if she got that way because of what the Syndicate did to her on that mission into enigma space. That’s not my fault or my problem.
And she slept with that idiot male Drakon when he got too drunk to know better. I have no doubt that she knew what she was doing, though. What was her goal? That encounter has only ensured that Drakon won’t risk any similar outcome again. What was Morgan after?
And why does it bother me so much to know that Drakon slept with her? Because it proves that even Drakon is just a foolish man at his core? Or because . . . ?
No. I know better. Mixing business and pleasure is a recipe for disaster.
Colonel Malin still wasn’t giving any subtle warnings of danger for Iceni, and in the last day he had not used any of the available convoluted means of passing information to her. Either Drakon wasn’t planning anything against her or he had kept Malin in the dark. Had he been doubled against her, passing information with Drakon’s knowledge so that in a case such as this he could keep Iceni in the dark and lull her into complacency? Or were Malin’s priorities his own? What is your game, Colonel Malin?
She could never tell whether such worries were legitimate or a product of the Syndicate system in which she had grown up and been promoted. Paranoia made sense when lots of people were almost always out to get you. But it crippled you as well, which Iceni had realized was the intent. An environment built on distrust had hindered attempts to band together against the Syndicate leadership.
Drakon looked over at Iceni as she approached, a very brief smile flickering into existence before he extinguished it.
Did the man actually like her? That was an intriguing thought.
“The enigmas are not going anywhere,” Iceni said without preamble, outwardly ignoring the presence of both Colonels Malin and Morgan, just as Drakon ignored Togo where he stood to the left and slightly behind Iceni. Togo had shifted position a bit as they came to a stop, ensuring that he had a clear shot at Morgan if she twitched in a threatening manner. Neither Drakon nor Iceni made any sign they had noticed that, either.
Drakon nodded in response to Iceni’s statement, displaying frustration that matched her own. “I noticed. What’s your guess?”
“I have none.”
“All I have is a wild estimate based on human behavior.” Drakon swung an angry hand toward the main display, where the images of the far-distant enigma ships were shown clearly. “If this were a human force, the only reason they wouldn’t attack was if they had orders to wait for someone or something.”
“Waiting? For what?”
“I don’t know. But if these guys were human, I’d assume they had orders not to attack until some exact time, or to wait until some CEO who wanted credit for the victory showed up, or until reinforcements they didn’t need arrived.”
Iceni frowned as she looked at the display. “Those reasons would make sense. If the enigmas were human.”
“And I know they’re not.” Drakon shrugged. “Maybe they’re like us in that way, though.”
“It would be nice to think we’re not the only intelligent species capable of such mindless behavior. There’s nothing we can do even if they are being stupid, though,” Iceni said.
“We could attack,” Drakon replied
with a sardonic grin.
“If they’re waiting for that, they’ll be waiting awhile. Kommodor Marphissa is still on her way toward the gas giant.”
“Where will she go after she picks up the other two cruisers?”
“I’ve ordered her to await further developments, to see someone else do something, so we know who to react to.”
“Fair enough. What’s going on with the battleship?”
It was Iceni’s turn to shrug. “It stays where it is. For now.”
“Why not get it out of the star system? It doesn’t have any military use for us.”
She sighed wearily. How long had it been since she had slept? “That battleship is, to the eyes of everyone watching, the strongest defensive asset this star system has. It still looks like a mighty warship even to those with access to sensors that tell them its weapons don’t work. What happens if everyone watches it run away?”
Colonel Morgan gave her an appraising glance, as if surprised that Iceni had been astute enough to think of that. That condescending look gave Iceni one more reason to contemplate having Morgan murdered despite her agreement with Drakon not to carry out any unilateral assassinations. But a hit on an assistant that close to Drakon would create massive problems even if it could be carried out successfully. From all Iceni had heard, Morgan would not be easily eliminated even if Iceni chose to send Togo after her.
“So we wait, too,” Drakon said. He didn’t sound any happier about that than Iceni felt. “I’ve been wondering something about the enigmas.”
“If you’re planning on asking me, I hope you don’t expect me to know more than anyone else does.”
“It’s a mobile forces question,” Drakon said, using the old Syndicate term for warships and pointing to the images of the enigma invaders. The alien craft were shaped much like turtles or tortoises, curved carapaces forming flattened hulls, the dark enigma armor glinting dully in the distant light of Midway’s star. “I understand the curved armor. It deflects anything that hits it much better than a flat surface would, and it lacks stress junctions like corners and edges.”
The Lost Stars Page 4