“Kapitan?” the comms specialist said. “Something has happened with communications in this star system. They’ve stopped.”
Diaz glanced back at her, frowning again. “Which comms have stopped? Why?”
“All of them, Kapitan. I’m not picking up anything. The last message we received was commence stand-down. That came from the inhabited world. Then everything went silent.”
“A complete comm stand-down?” Diaz looked over at Marphissa. “That’s unusual. But it can’t be related to our arrival. That stand-down message was sent nearly six hours before we got here.”
“Kapitan.” The comm specialist spoke again. “We’re continuing to analyze the comm traffic. Some of the last messages we picked up talked about an upcoming stand-down and suggested it was security-related.”
Marphissa frowned, thinking as she looked at her display. “Maybe that spy who gave us the information about the defenses here tripped some alerts. If he or she was digging around in databases, it might have led Haris’s snakes to order a stand-down to look for the access points and other vulnerabilities. You’re right that it can’t have been caused by our arrival here. The times don’t line up. Let me know as soon as comms go active again,” she ordered, then touched her own comm controls.
General Drakon responded within a few seconds. He must have been on the bridge of the freighter he was riding. He had that rumpled look that anyone acquired when riding freighters, an appearance born of not enough room for clothes, not enough opportunities to get clean, and not enough room of any kind. It brought to mind the old joke about lots of small confined spaces inside a large confined space inside an infinity of empty space. “How does it look, Kommodor?” he asked her.
Marphissa waved outward. “No surprises, General. Haris’s two warships are orbiting the inhabited world. I’ll notify you when they break orbit there. No other defenses aside from the minor ones identified by our agent.”
“Good. How long until we reach our objective?”
“Five days, General. I should mentioned that there’s some unusual comm activity, or rather lack of comm activity. It looks like a total comm stand-down that began six hours before we arrived here. There are some indications that it might be security-related.”
Drakon nodded. “They’ve probably been dealing with a lot of intrusions lately,” he commented. “Let me know how long it lasts.”
Marphissa, expecting Drakon to demand from her a detailed description of her plans for dealing with Haris’s cruisers, was no longer sure what to say. “We’ll get the freighters safely to the inhabited world, General.”
“I never doubted that, Kommodor. Give me a heads-up if anything changes. Otherwise, we’ll plan for the drop one hundred twenty hours from now.”
She eyed the place where Drakon’s image had been, trying to sort out her feelings. Marphissa still had vague suspicions about the general. She had heard rumors that he was plotting against the president, but never any details. And Honore Bradamont trusted General Drakon, said he was loyal to President Iceni, as hard as that was to believe. After all, Drakon had been a Syndicate CEO.
But then, so had President Iceni.
And, for whatever reasons, General Drakon was giving every indication of trusting Marphissa to do her job well.
Despite her earlier ambivalence, Marphissa found herself wanting to make sure that she did not let the general down.
Gwen Iceni, irritable with General Drakon and worried about having two-thirds of his soldiers and half of her operational warships gone from Midway, decided to question CEO Jason Boyens again. If he didn’t reveal anything worthwhile this time, she might authorize some coercive measures on him just to make herself feel better.
Unfortunately, she knew that authorizing coercive measures wouldn’t make her feel better, and in fact would make her feel worse, which only made her more irritable.
She took a seat in front of the wall-sized virtual window that gave a clear view of the cell Boyens occupied. As cells went, it wasn’t bad, with halfway-comfortable furnishings. Boyens, having been told that Iceni was coming to speak with him, was already seated in a chair facing her. There were several rooms and armored walls between where the two sat, but they appeared to be facing each other separated by only a couple of meters. “To what do I owe the honor of your visit?” Boyens asked in a cheery voice.
“I’m trying to decide how to kill you,” Iceni said flatly, “and was hoping to get some inspiration from conversing with you.”
He grinned. “Gwen, if you were going to kill me, I’d be dead before I knew what you were intending.”
“Then you should be aware how close you are to that,” Iceni said. “Your failure to provide us with any more useful information is leading me to conclude that you are actually here as a Syndicate agent. Tell me why I shouldn’t have you disposed of simply to eliminate that possibility.”
Boyens sobered and sighed heavily. “The only thing keeping me alive is what I know. Once you have it, how do I know you won’t dispose of me as no longer useful?”
“You claim to know me, and yet you say that?”
He watched her, then nodded with clear reluctance. “I know you well enough to know when you mean what you say. Does Drakon feel the same way?”
“He did when he left.”
“Left?” Boyens looked startled. “He left this star system? With you in charge?”
She felt amused by that, by her ability to surprise someone used to the ways that Syndicate CEOs normally operated. “Yes.”
“So it’s just you now.” Boyens made it a statement, not a question, then looked mildly surprised when she shook her head.
“General Drakon and I are partners,” Iceni said.
“Oh.”
The way Boyens said that one word, and the careful lack of visible reaction on his face, irritated her even more. “I’m not referring to any personal relationship,” Iceni snapped at him. “It is purely professional, not that it is any business of yours. All you need to know is that both General Drakon and I know the other will not betray them.” That was an overstatement, of course, and Boyens probably wouldn’t believe a word of it. What surprised Iceni was discovering as she said it that the statement felt like the truth to her.
Boyens nodded apologetically. “It’s your star system. You get to run it however you want. Can you… tell me where Drakon went?”
“If I do, I’d better get something extremely useful in exchange for the information.”
Boyens hesitated, then nodded again. “Deal.”
“He’s gone to Ulindi.”
Boyens stared at her, visibly rattled. “Ulindi? You’re sending forces to Ulindi?”
“That’s what I said.”
“You— How many? How large a force?”
Iceni eyed him, wondering what Boyens was up to. “Why should I provide you with that information as well?”
He looked down, chewing his lip, and remained silent for several seconds. Finally, Boyens looked back at her and shrugged. “All right. I didn’t want to play one of my last trump cards. You’re going after Haris, right?”
“Supreme CEO Haris, yes,” Iceni confirmed. “Why does that concern you so much? Is he a friend of yours?”
“Haris? The only friends Haris cultivates are those that can help him gain a promotion.” Boyens grimaced, running one hand through his hair. “But he’s not really Supreme CEO. I mean, he didn’t come up with that title. The snakes did.”
“The snakes?” Iceni felt a chill run down her spine. “Haris is acting under orders?”
“That’s right. He didn’t really claim any autonomy. It’s all theater. Haris is just as much a part of the Syndicate ISS as he always was.” Boyens leaned forward, his expression urgent. “The Syndicate has reinforcements ready to commit to Ulindi. I don’t know what those reinforcements are or how many there are. It was all within snake channels, and I couldn’t risk snooping into those very much. But Haris has more firepower than you think he does.”