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Five minutes ago, Midway’s sensors had spotted the battle cruiser Pele altering vector and accelerating toward the jump point for Lono. What was Kapitan Kontos doing and why was he doing it? Since Pele was nearly three light hours away, the action had been taken that long ago, and any message sent by Bradamont demanding explanation would require a six-hour round-trip.

Her impatient thoughts were interrupted by a call from the bridge. “Two light cruisers arrived at the jump point from Lono three and a half hours ago,” Kapitan Freya Mercia reported. “They are accelerating toward the inner star system at the best rate they can manage.”

Bradamont frowned at the image of the battleship Midway’s commanding officer. “That’s a very small attack force.”

“Ridiculously small,” Mercia agreed. “Our sensors have spotted combat damage on both warships.”

A tone sounded, drawing Bradamont’s attention to an incoming message. “Kapitan Kontos is hopefully informing us of his intentions. Are you copied on this message?”

“Yes,” Mercia replied.

The image of Kapitan Kontos appeared before Bradamont. He was seated on the bridge of Pele, and still looked impossibly young for his rank and for being assigned to command Midway’s only battle cruiser. But she had seen him in action and knew that Kontos was a brilliant tactician with an instinctive grasp of space combat.

“Honored Captain Bradamont,” Kontos said, his tone and bearing formal and respectful. “I have sighted two light cruisers arriving from Lono and am proceeding to intercept their track. A message sent by them to my ships asks for asylum and indicates they were pursued by Syndicate warships when they entered jump at Lono. Main propulsion on both ships has suffered damage, limiting their ability to accelerate. Unless otherwise ordered, I will join up with the two light cruisers and escort them to a safe orbit. For the people, Kontos, out.”

“He attached the message sent to his ships,” Kapitan Mercia noted. “Shall I play it?”

“Yes, please, Kapitan.” Bradamont had early on sensed Mercia’s unease with her, but the former Syndicate officer had done her best to accept Bradamont, so she did her own best to deal respectfully in turn.

The image this time was of a dazed-looking executive on the bridge of a standard Syndicate light cruiser. The small bridge of the light cruiser was marked by signs of combat, a few bodies still sprawled within sight. “We have killed all of the loyalists and Internal Security Service agents aboard and are seeking to join forces with those of Midway. But we took damage fighting our way free of our flotilla. There were two heavy cruisers in close pursuit when we jumped from Lono. Both of our ships have suffered damage to main propulsion. We urgently require escort. Please save us! For the people, Kavistan, out.”

It seemed like a pretty much straightforward situation. Bradamont took a quick glance at the display in her stateroom, but she was already familiar with the arrangement of Midway’s warships. The battleship Midway that she was riding, along with heavy cruiser Basilisk, light cruisers Falcon and Osprey, and three Hunter-Killers were orbiting together to cover both Midway’s hypernet gate, the most likely place for another Syndic attack to arrive, and the jump point from the star Pele, from which any enigma attack would come. That put them three and a half light hours from the jump point from Lono, far too distant to reach the new arrivals quickly.

Another heavy cruiser, Kraken, the remaining light cruisers Hawk, Kite, and Eagle, and six Hunter-Killers were orbiting far around the edge of the star system, covering the jump points from the stars Kahiki, Kane, Laka, and Iwa. They were more than five light hours away from the new arrivals.

The remaining three Hunter-Killers that Midway’s small navy boasted were still gone, returning representatives to the star systems of Ulindi, Taroa, and Kane.

That left the battle cruiser Pele and a single heavy cruiser, Gryphon, who had been orbiting to cover the jump points from Lono and Kahiki. Pele and Gryphon had been only about one light hour from where the new ships had arrived.

She shouldn’t have to do anything. By the time any of Midway’s other warships could get to the vicinity of those two light cruisers, Pele and Gryphon would already have long since engaged and driven off a pursuit force consisting of only heavy cruisers. Even a far-less-capable officer than Kontos could handle that.

The virtual window showing Kapitan Mercia was still open. Bradamont noticed that Mercia was frowning. “What’s the matter?”

“I don’t know.” Mercia’s frown grew deeper. “Something doesn’t feel right, but I’m not sure what.” She studied something off to one side of her. “From our own look angle we can’t see much of the main propulsion on those light cruisers, so we can’t confirm their reports of damage.”

Bradamont checked her display again and did a quick appraisal. “Pele and Gryphon can see less than we do. The light cruisers are almost bow on to them. Why would the light cruisers lie about the damage they had sustained? Two of them can’t threaten a battle cruiser.”

Another alert tone, this one urgent. “The Syndicate heavy cruisers pursuing those light cruisers arrived,” Mercia noted. “Two of them, just as we were told to expect.”

Bradamont gazed at the display again; the two heavy cruisers had come in from the same jump from Lono, and had quickly steadied out on intercepts aimed at the light cruisers that had shown up earlier. The damaged light cruisers were limping toward Pele and Gryphon as fast as they could accelerate, and Kontos was bringing his two warships toward those light cruisers at a considerably higher rate. “About three hours until they meet up,” Bradamont murmured. “Damn. Even if we sent a message it wouldn’t get there until they were almost…” She gave a sharp look to Mercia. “Why do I want to send a message? This doesn’t look like anything that Kontos can’t handle.”

“He’s very good,” Mercia said. “He does lack experience, but that shouldn’t matter here. The light cruisers have killed all of the snakes aboard and—” She stopped speaking, looking unhappy. “That’s part of it. Why did that executive call the snakes ISS agents? He used the formal title.”

“What was his Syndicate rank?” Bradamont asked.

“Executive Second Class, what you would expect to find in command of a light cruiser.” Mercia paused. “The commanding officer survived the mutiny. That’s unusual, but I understand some of the commanding officers survived when President Iceni led the mutinies on warships here, so it can happen.”

“How many days in jump space from Lono to here?” Bradamont asked.

“Lono to Midway? Seven days.” Mercia sat straighter, suspicion lighting her eyes. “Seven days. At least seven days after the mutiny, and there are still bodies lying around the bridge?”

“It looked staged, didn’t it?”

“I’m not too familiar with such things,” Mercia said, “but, yes, it looked like… exactly what I would expect to see if I was watching a vid. What are they up to?”

“I don’t know.” Bradamont hit her comm control. “Kapitan Kontos, myself and Kapitan Mercia are concerned that there is something wrong about those two light cruisers. Verify the damage they claim to have suffered and do not let them approach you too closely. We need to confirm that they are who they say they are.” She paused to consider adding more specific instructions, but that was foolish when she was observing events from three light hours away. Kontos would have to react to events as they developed. “Proceed with caution. Bradamont, out.”