“Not even a courteous sign-off at the end,” Iceni commented.
“Madam President,” Marphissa said, looking and sounding angry, “should I take appropriate action?”
“Oh, no, Kommodor. I want to respond to this individual personally. He needs to be motivated.” Another moment to prepare, then Iceni hit the transmit command once more and began speaking in a calm voice. “Senior Ship’s Controller Hafely, this is President Iceni of the independent Midway Star System. You seem to be under the mistaken impression that I care about your orders from the Yegans Syndicate. You also seem to think that you are not required to obey my orders. I will say this once, Senior Ship’s Controller Hafely. Listen carefully.”
Her voice had hardened and deepened, lowering slightly in volume. “I am in command of three heavy cruisers, six light cruisers, and eight Hunter-Killers. Any one of those units is capable of totally destroying your ship. If I do not as soon as possible receive an acknowledgment of your orders from me to assist the evacuees from the mobile forces facility, as well as your intent to obey those orders, and see your ship begin to carry out those orders, I will send one of my light cruisers to intercept your ship and obliterate it. But that cruiser will be under orders to attempt to ensure that you personally survive the destruction of your ship, so that you can be placed in an escape pod that will be launched on a vector that ensures it cannot be reached by anyone before its life support gives out.
“You have one remaining chance to get this right, Senior Ship’s Controller Hafely. You should be extremely grateful that I am giving you that chance rather than immediately ordering your execution for disrespect toward me.”
Her voice returned to calmness. “For the people, Iceni, out.”
Feeling tired, Iceni stood up. “Let me know if we don’t receive a positive reply from Senior Ship’s Controller Hafely within half an hour, and if we don’t see his ship begin to turn around to meet the citizens who evacuate from the facility. As soon as you see the ship begin to move, contact the mobile forces facility and tell them the merchant is coming to pick them up. Am I forgetting anything?”
“How do we ensure that the merchant actually takes them to the second planet?” Marphissa asked. “That might require detaching a warship to shadow the merchant until it gets there.”
She didn’t want to do that. It would tie up a warship for even longer than the commitments she was already dealing with. Iceni pointed at another symbol on the display. “That’s the light cruiser that wanted to go to, where was it, Cadez? Why haven’t they left?”
The comm specialist answered. “I’ve talked to them, Madam President. They have some people on the second planet that they wanted to pick up before they left, so they’ve been waiting around to see if the snakes would leave.”
“Good. Contact that light cruiser, Kommodor Marphissa. Tell them we chased away the snakes from the second planet, and tell them what I’ve ordered the merchant to do.” Iceni paused. Could she just order the light cruiser to do something? They might refuse, and she had no means of catching them to enforce an order. Giving an order you couldn’t enforce was a bad idea. It could make you look very weak, indeed. “Ask them if they will intercept that merchant and escort it to the second planet to ensure that the citizens from the mobile forces facility reach the planet safely.”
It all felt very… humanitarian. Hopefully, no one would interpret that as a sign of weakness in her. She needed the goodwill of whoever ended up ruling this star system and didn’t want to burn any bridges with any factions, that was all. That didn’t mean she would return the battleship, but it did mean issuing a few threats to save a few lives to earn the kind of intangible currency that could purchase important dividends in the future. “I’m going to work in my stateroom for a while.”
As Iceni left the bridge, with every intention of lying down and trying to rest, she noticed out of the corners of her eyes that the specialists all seemed to be happy for some reason.
General Artur Drakon eyed the latest intelligence update sourly. Even a few months ago, intelligence updates had been much, much longer and much simpler. In those days, there had been two categories. The Alliance category contained the latest that had been learned about the enemy’s intentions and capabilities, as well as information about recent Alliance military operations and losses. The best that could be said about that category was that it usually correctly identified the star systems in which combat had taken place. Intentions were never more than a patchwork of guesses, and capabilities rarely showed any changes that mattered. And, of course, the information was time-late, as much as several months late if you were stationed somewhere like Midway far from the border with the Alliance. Even when you were stationed closer to the front, information about other areas where fighting was taking place could be weeks old at best.
The Syndicate Worlds category was almost always shorter, and almost always even less useful. Actual losses of forces or defeats were never accurately reported and had to be teased out through the grapevine and unofficial contacts. Syndicate Worlds’ plans were always subject to deliberate disinformation and sudden, last-minute changes if one influential CEO abruptly lost that influence and their replacement had other plans. And, of course, that was all time-late as well.
Yet everyone of rank was supposed to know what was in the updates, so reading them was mandatory, and in any event they offered important clues as to what your superiors wanted to believe themselves and wanted you to believe.
The intelligence update before Drakon now was far smaller, but with more categories. Midway. Local Star Systems. Syndicate Worlds. Alliance. Other Star Systems. Enigma Race. Much of the information was fragmentary, and the time lags had grown far worse as travel through space once controlled by the Syndicate Worlds had grown more difficult and official networks had collapsed along with Syndicate authority. But at least the information reflected the truth as best they knew it. Or as best Colonel Malin knew it.
Midway. Stable, almost suspiciously so, the citizens enthusiastically embracing the elections for low-level offices. The euphoria from the destruction of the snakes hadn’t faded yet, and the Syndicate Worlds hadn’t yet retaliated. Trade was weaker than it should be, but it had been trending that way for some time. In some ways, the Syndicate Worlds had been unraveling for years and decades under the pressure of the war, maintaining an image of strength thanks to military power that masked the growing hollowness and dissent behind it.
Taroa. Three factions contesting for control. None strong enough to win. Malin had emphasized that. He wanted Drakon to think about it.
Kane. Critically important, but they still knew nothing. Until some ship arrived bearing news from Iceni, all they could do was wonder what she had found there and whether she had succeeded in her mission.
Syndicate Worlds. Very little new. A recently arriving merchant ship had carried a message from CEO Jason Boyens for Iceni, and Malin had already intercepted that long enough to copy the contents. Unfortunately, Boyens didn’t tell them much they didn’t already know. The new government was weak, everyone was struggling for position and influence, and star systems continued to break away from Syndicate Worlds authority. The message had been sent well before news would have reached Prime of the rebellion at Midway, so it offered no clues to reactions by the government.
Enigma race. Nothing to report. If Black Jack’s fleet had stirred them up again, the aliens must still be busy confronting the Alliance.
Other star systems. This one reported in chaos, that one declaring independence under a strong CEO or a group of them, yet another joining a loose conglomeration of other local star systems for protection that the central government could no longer provide. This information was the oldest and most patchy, and so least reliable.