As Safir and Kai left, Rogero lingered. “General, I’m going to be escorting Captain Bradamont to the landing field. She’s taking a shuttle up to the light cruiser Osprey, which will take her to Midway.”
“Good.” Drakon gave Rogero a sympathetic smile. “I’m sorry you two keep getting separated.”
“It’s not nearly as bad as it was during the war,” Rogero pointed out.
“Why isn’t she going to Pele? Bradamont was a battle cruiser commander for the Alliance. I remember hearing that battle cruiser types in the Alliance looked down on battleships.”
“They do,” Rogero said. “Swift and agile versus slow and clumsy, attack versus defense, is how Honore explained it to me. But her assignment is to command the entire force, if necessary. Pele might have to make some risky attacks.”
“So she has to stay on the battleship, so she can survive and continue to command the fight.” Drakon nodded in understanding. “We know how that goes. The hardest thing can be standing back and keeping an eye on the big picture when you want to throw yourself into the fight. She’s a good officer, isn’t she?”
“The Syndicate never could beat them.”
“No.” Drakon snorted, gazing at one wall, not really focusing on anything as he remembered too many battles in too many places. “They couldn’t beat us, either. What do you suppose would have happened if Black Jack hadn’t shown up?”
“Both sides would have kept fighting until everyone like you, me, and Honore Bradamont was dead, and then everything would have fallen apart,” Rogero said.
“Yeah.” Drakon looked at Rogero. “Tell Captain Bradamont good luck from me, and that I expect her to kick the butts of any enigmas or Syndicate warships that show up here.”
Rogero grinned and saluted again. “Yes, sir.”
But the smile faded before he reached the door and Rogero turned his head to look at Drakon again. “Sir? What do you think they’ll find at Iwa?”
“I think,” Drakon said, “that you and I are very lucky we aren’t at Iwa. The enigmas have never left any survivors.”
“Taroa is rebuilding from the damage suffered during its rebellion and civil war, but with Ulindi leaderless it won’t be able to contribute any help to us anytime soon.”
“President Iceni and I have a plan for Ulindi,” Drakon said. “I’m going over to her offices now to see if we can make it happen.”
Two comfortable chairs faced a blank wall. Iceni took one, Drakon the other. “Are you sure about this?” he asked.
“No.” She gave him a look. “You have the right to veto it.”
“I know.” Drakon sat back, trying to relax himself, and trying to decide if he really wanted to exercise that veto. “I saw what things are like on Ulindi. The snakes did their best to gut that star system of anyone who could run things.”
“And he can run things,” Iceni said. “Our sources in Syndicate space have confirmed his story to some extent. But uncertainties remain.”
“Ulindi needs a strong hand,” Drakon said. “Let’s get this over with.”
Iceni tapped a control and the blank wall vanished, turning into a virtual window that covered the entire wall so that the room seemed to have more than doubled in size. Now visible was the inside of a cell designed for VIP prisoners. Not exactly comfortable, but not a living hell, either. The cell boasted a decent bed as well as a chair, both fastened securely to the floor and the chair facing toward where Drakon and Iceni sat, but not much more except for the vast array of sensors that kept continuous watch on the cell’s occupant.
CEO Jason Boyens, alerted by the change in light to the virtual window, sat up on the bed, then stood carefully. He looked a little haggard, which wasn’t too surprising given that he had spent some time wondering if at any moment he would be taken out and executed. Boyens walked toward the virtual window, facing Iceni and Drakon. “It’s nice to have visitors. I’m glad to see you survived the trap at Ulindi, Artur.”
“I wouldn’t have been in nearly as much danger,” Drakon said, “if you’d spilled your guts about the Syndicate trap at Ulindi before I left.”
“But I did tell you. Or rather, I told Gwen here.” Boyens gestured toward her. “Apparently, my warning came in time. But I don’t think you’re here to thank me.”
Iceni’s smile flicked on and off so rapidly that it was barely visible. “No, Jason. We’re here to say good-bye.”
Boyens stiffened, swallowed, then nodded. “Why the forewarning? To make me suffer as I wait for the end?”
“You misunderstand, Jason,” Iceni continued. “We’re letting you go.”
That was a bit too much even for someone experienced in the often-lethal cat-and-mouse games of Syndicate CEOs. Boyens swayed slightly, then put one hand on the chair beside him. “If you’re playing with me, you’re doing a good job. May I sit down?”
“Please.”
Boyens took his seat, then looked at Drakon. “You were always the straightforward sort, Artur. What’s the deal?”
Drakon smiled, too, deliberately letting Boyens see grim amusement. “Just as Gwen said. What you told us about the Syndicate wanting your hide on the wall appears to be true, and since we’ve let the Syndicate know through various unofficial means that their trap failed at Ulindi because you warned us about it, we can be pretty confident that you won’t try to make nice with the Syndicate again anytime soon.”
“How nice of you to give me credit,” Boyens said. “If the Syndicate gets its hands on me now they’ll turn me over to Happy Hua with instructions to make sure my end is painful and prolonged.”
“Happy Hua won’t serve the Syndicate anymore,” Iceni said. “She died at Ulindi.”
The smile on Boyens’s face was unquestionably genuine. “What a shame. We all do what we have to do, but she enjoyed it. Too bad the Syndicate still has plenty of other cold-blooded killers to employ. What is it you want from me?”
“We want you to go to Ulindi,” Drakon said.
Boyens, as skilled at CEO backstabbing as he was, still looked floored by the statement. “Ulindi? Did you tell them I was responsible for what happened there?”
“No.” Drakon took a deep breath, remembering things seen at Ulindi. “How much did you know about the trap there? You told us that you only knew it was intended to draw us in and hit us with hidden military forces. Is that all you knew?”
“That’s all I knew. It wasn’t a plan I was supposed to have any role in, so I wasn’t even supposed to know the plan existed. But enough people were gabbing about it that I could make out the outlines.”
Boyens could not see the readouts visible to Iceni and Drakon. He would have known his cell contained numerous sensors which monitored every aspect of his body, something useful for maintaining a picture of a prisoner’s health but also extremely helpful in determining if someone was lying. The readouts told Drakon that Boyens hadn’t lied just now. That wasn’t always helpful, because anyone given secrets was also given techniques for outwitting such sensors by phrasing answers in just the right way or simply refusing to answer at all. But in this case Boyens had answered clearly and unambiguously.
Drakon nodded. “It’s lucky for you that you didn’t know more. As part of their preparations for the trap, the Syndicate wanted to ensure that no one at Ulindi would cause them any problems. The snakes carried out mass arrests.”
“Naturally.”
“And they murdered everyone they arrested.”
“They—?” Boyens inhaled sharply. “That’s insane. They must have gutted Ulindi’s upper ranks, and middle ranks, and—” He stared at Drakon. “There’s a leadership vacuum at Ulindi, and you want me to go there?”