“I have been wondering,” Mercia continued, “how Imallye accumulated so many warships so quickly, and seized three star systems just as quickly. I thought, perhaps, the Syndicate has focused its energies on retaking Midway.”
Iceni frowned at Mercia. “And yet we know that Moorea, at least, was restive as well and threatening rebellion, encouraged by our example. And we have learned that Imallye is not wiping clean the Syndicate structure in the star systems she has captured, instead substituting her choices for whichever Syndicate CEOs were ousted.”
“A false flag?” Mercia suggested.
“Damn.” Iceni no longer felt any sense of satisfaction. “They outthought us again, didn’t they? The pirate queen Imallye is operating at the Syndicate’s sufferance, giving a fresh face and a false face to the Syndicate system while also continuing to support it.
“It explains a great deal.”
She paused, thinking again, remembering Imallye’s father, and what she had heard of Imallye herself. “But I find it hard to believe that Imallye would stooge for the Syndicate like that. There is something missing in that explanation.”
Mercia hunched forward, eyeing Iceni. “How much do you know of her?”
“Imallye? Both too much and too little.” Iceni considered the question before saying more. “Her father was ambitious and smart. Clever, too. He tended to think a step or two ahead of his opponents and held his own cards close to his chest. He didn’t hide any of that, which earned him some admiration but also a lot of enemies.”
Iceni glanced at Mercia. “The problem was, no one knew what he would do next. Who would benefit from knowing him, and who would turn out to be a step to be trod over on his ladder to the top. I was far from the only junior CEO worried about what he might spring on me. That made it much easier to believe what I heard he was doing and reported him for.”
“So the question is, what are the cards that Imallye is planning on playing?” Mercia said.
“And what game it is that she’s playing,” Iceni agreed.
Colonel Donal Hideki Rogero glared at the image of the planet that was his objective, wishing that the offending world would somehow spontaneously explode before he and his soldiers were landed there.
He still didn’t have a decent plan for assaulting that alien base. What he did have was an assortment of equipment which had been jury-rigged to perform in slightly different ways than designed. Whether that could defeat the assumed enigma capability to inflict full-spectrum blinding on attacking enemies was anybody’s guess.
But now he had to worry about not just the alien installation, but also a large force of Syndicate ground troops that were probably being dropped onto the same planet at this very moment. And those Syndicate ground troops might be human, but they would regard Rogero and his soldiers as enemies, so Rogero would have to worry about dealing with two different threats at the same time.
And what had the Kommodor said when Rogero had pointed that out? “I’ve got three different threats to deal with.” Which was certainly true, but not at all helpful.
He had less than a day to figure out how to win a fight that had just gotten worse after already being nearly impossible.
It required another three hours for the reply to President Iceni to come in from the Syndicate flotilla.
Marphissa was surprised at the image she saw before her. Syndicate CEOs were required to maintain “standards,” which was a fancy way of saying that they had to always look perfect as spelled out in a multitude of rules, some of them written down and others unwritten but understood by anyone who dealt with CEOs with any frequency. Because of the political games and posturing among Syndicate CEOs, they could also be counted on to present a haughty and confident face to anyone of lesser or equal rank whom they dealt with.
However, the CEO commanding the Syndicate flotilla did not look arrogant or comfortable. His suit, instead of being freshly pressed, looked rumpled. He bore on his face and in his eyes the marks of too little sleep and too many worries. As he spoke, his voice carried not the whiplash of orders or demands, but the quiet fatalism of someone who needed help that he knew would not be coming.
“President Iceni, you know that I cannot agree to the deal that you have proposed,” the CEO said. “I am under orders to attack and destroy your mobile forces whenever and wherever I encounter them.”
His lips twisted in a sardonic smile. “But you know that my units are soon to be engaged with another foe. Our chances are… not very good. I fully intend to carry out my orders by confronting and destroying all enemy forces in this star system, but there is a high probability that my flotilla will not be… one hundred percent successful in that effort when we engage the enigmas. And so I must ask of you a favor even while I refuse to work with you in defeating a common foe.”
The smile slipped away from the CEO’s face. “You have seen that we have troop transports and freighters accompanying my flotilla, and that these units have been left at the planet to off-load their passengers and as much cargo as possible before the enemy reaches them. Those passengers are partly ground forces, and partly the families of our crew members and of the ground forces personnel. The Syndicate ordered them to accompany us, to ensure that we fought our hardest to defend this star system.”
Marphissa stared at the CEO’s image in disbelief as his words hit home. Families. The Syndicate had sent citizens, men, women, and children, into a war zone to stiffen the spines of the military units tasked with holding Iwa against any more attacks.
Iceni’s image appeared next to Marphissa. “That’s why the Syndicate mobile forces are acting the way they are. Look at that bridge shot from the Syndicate flagship. Not a snake in sight. That’s how the Syndicate is handling the losses of so many snakes in recent battles. There aren’t any snakes on the warships. The snakes are with the families of the crews, ready to enforce the will of the Syndicate without risking themselves on the warships. And the warship crews are going into a hopeless fight to try to save their families.”
The Syndicate flotilla commander struggled with his words as he continued. “I… ask… that you take what measures you can to… save anyone from the transport units who is… still alive after we have done our best to stop the enigma force. I cannot compel your aid in this matter. I cannot promise anything to you in payment. I can only… ask.”
He straightened, regaining some composure. “My flotilla will do its utmost. For the people, Juvenale, out.”
Marphissa sighed and rubbed her face with both hands as the message ended. “He said the last phrase as if he meant it.”
Iceni nodded in agreement. “If he was thinking of the people on those transports and freighters, I am certain that he meant it. He and his crews are preparing to die for those people, for their people. Can we save them, Kommodor?”
“The CEO and the crews of his ships?” Marphissa asked doubtfully.
“I can read a display,” Iceni said, her voice short. “There is no possible way for us to save them. I meant the people who will be left on the planet. Can we save those citizens?”
“I do not know, Madam President.” Marphissa gazed at her display with a fierce determination growing inside her. “If it can be done, we will do it. I will notify Colonel Rogero of the new complication in his mission.”
Rogero listened with a deadpan expression as Marphissa passed on the information, then looked quickly to one side, inhaling deeply before answering. “Aliens and snakes and citizens.”