Drakon snorted with derision. “If there was one undetected set of worms in that software, there could be more.”
She nodded, feeling a flash of the old anger. “I want to punish someone, Artur. Order some supervisors to be shot for failing in their duties. I know that would be stupid, that if I get rid of trained, experienced personnel before I even know who if anyone has actually made a mistake, that I will be just weakening my own security instead of strengthening it.” Her voice trembled slightly with fury. “But the part of me that is still stuck in the Syndicate really wants to kill someone right now.”
“I’ll help.”
For some reason that matter-of-fact offer helped cool her rage. “Thank you.” Iceni sighed and took another drink. “You haven’t asked, but I am screening everyone in my building again to ensure none of them have turned traitor on me.”
“If they had,” Drakon pointed out, “they would have already bolted.”
“I know. But I still have to check out the possibility.”
“Malin will find anyone who let you down,” he said.
She gave him a quizzical look. “Why aren’t you angrier about this? I don’t want you to be. I need a stable anchor right now. But why aren’t you stomping around threatening to kill whoever threatened me?”
Drakon smiled, but it wasn’t a happy smile. It was the sort of smile that gave Iceni a pleasant shiver up her back. “I am angry. But anger makes me more focused. It makes me want to ensure I make the right moves, that I get whoever is responsible, and not whoever makes a handy scapegoat.”
“That’s a nice talent,” Iceni approved. “I should have realized that about you before now. You’ve shown plenty of signs of it before this. No wonder you managed to survive the Syndicate. The more they screwed with you, the more focused you must have gotten.”
“That’s right.” He looked grim once more, then nodded upward. “Maybe it would be a good idea for you to take up residence aboard the Midway sooner rather than later. Not that I want you up in space instead of down here with me, but if you’re on that battleship it will be a lot harder for anyone to get to you.”
“It’s supposed to be impossible for anyone to get to me here,” Iceni said, her voice getting sharp again. “But I see your point. I’ll miss seeing you in person, but I can handle my presidential tasks from orbit, and it will make it easier to oversee the preparations for the expedition to Iwa if I am up there.” She bent a crooked smile at Drakon. “You tried to talk me out of going to Iwa, and now here you are urging me to get going. Is that what you do with all of your lovers?”
“No,” he said.
“I’m just teasing, Artur. To help calm myself. Bear with me.” Iceni thought about what it would take to move herself up to the battleship today, but then another thought intruded. “What if my intruder goes after you once I’m no longer available?”
“I’m hoping he or she does,” Drakon said, showing that smile again.
She wagged a finger at him. “Don’t underestimate the danger.”
“I’m not. Like you said, getting through your defenses to this point was impressive. But I have a few tricks even he, or she, might have trouble with.”
Iceni found herself smiling, feeling calmer in the face of Drakon’s steady assurance. “Good. When I get back from Iwa, let’s make this relationship formal.”
“Limited time or open-ended?” Drakon asked.
“Open-ended, if you’re good with that.” She kept her voice casual, but felt tension inside as she waited for his answer.
“Yeah,” Drakon agreed. “I’m good with that. When you get back.”
“It’s a date.” After he had left to personally speak with Malin, Iceni sat at her desk for a while, pretending to work. It had been important not to hurry to make the commitment before she left, to not project any image to the citizens of appearing to fear whether or not she would return. She could tell that Artur had understood that. But it now left her worried whether, with her promise to handle that important task when she returned, she had just jinxed both of them.
As much as he disliked meetings, Drakon realized that occasionally there was no substitute for them. As long as whoever was in charge kept the discussion moving and worthwhile instead of meandering into endless blind alleys.
And this time his brigade commanders had asked for the meeting, which hopefully meant that someone had thought of something useful.
To Drakon’s surprise, it was Colonel Kai who led the discussion about plans for Iwa. But Kai soon provided the reasons for his role.
“After careful thought,” Kai said, as if he did not always think carefully before acting and speaking, “I believe that a certain tactic employed during the second and third decades of the war with the Alliance might give us insight into how the enigmas might defend their installation.”
Kai brought up a virtual window that was visible to not only Geary and Colonel Gozen, but also to the other two brigade commanders who like Kai were attending this briefing virtually. The relatively tiny distances involved on the surface of a planet meant that there were none of the time delays that Drakon had heard bedeviled virtual conferences in space. “At the time,” Kai explained, “the Alliance was rebounding from initial setbacks and threatening to seize Syndicate installations in several star systems. Having bled out its own ground forces in a series of futile offensives, the Syndicate could not adequately defend those installations. Therefore, a policy of calibrated self-destruction was adopted.”
Drakon studied the new window and the images on it. “The installations were wired for self-destruct, but not so the whole place would blow at once.”
“Yes, sir,” Kai said. “As Alliance forces seized one portion of the installation, that portion was destroyed. When another portion was captured, it too was destroyed.”
“Along with any Syndicate ground forces or citizens left in those portions?” Colonel Safir asked in amazement. “That’s harsh even by Syndicate standards.”
“But it worked,” Kai said. “The Alliance realized what was happening after suffering serious casualties every time a newly captured or almost-captured area blew up around the victorious Alliance forces. The Alliance had to pause its offensives in various star systems in order to develop new attack methods and tactics.”
“But the Syndicate stopped using that tactic when its own ground forces were able to get back up to strength?” Drakon asked.
“Yes, sir. By accessing highly classified files previously restricted to snake CEOs, I was able to determine that the negative morale aspects of the tactic were threatening to undermine Syndicate defenses as badly as the lack of ground forces had.”
Colonel Rogero nodded, smiling bitterly. “Of course. Once the soldiers figured out that the place they were defending might blow up at any moment, instead of standing their ground they started retreating as fast as possible to avoid being killed by their own side. Is that correct?”
“That is correct,” Colonel Kai said. “However, from what Black Jack’s fleet saw of the enigmas, individual enigmas rarely appeared to balk at suicidal tactics aimed at protecting their privacy. That would make this a plausible tactic for them, and, again according to Black Jack’s reporting as well as our own observations of the aftermath of space battles in this star system, the enigmas have a tendency to employ self-destruction to avoid any compromise of their secrets.”
“Good job,” Drakon said. “I bet you’re right. Ground tactics built around blowing up an entire installation as soon as it was attacked would just lead to quick defeat of the enigma race. But holding out until the entire installation was nearly occupied would give away too many of their secrets. Blowing up their bases in segments would allow them to tailor the self-destructs to match the situation, and discourage any attempts to capture those bases.”