“A flotilla has arrived at the jump point from Lono,” Malin reported over the hoot of alarms behind him.
Drakon was in his command center in a heartbeat. Haste was absurd when the enemy had just been sighted six light-hours fifteen light-minutes distant, but it still felt necessary. Human reflexes insisted that an enemy in sight was an imminent threat, and human bodies and brains still responded to that ancient imperative. “Son of a bitch,” he muttered as he took in the information.
Two heavy cruisers, three light cruisers, four HuKs. And he had exactly one heavy cruiser to deal with them. It didn’t take an expert in mobile forces to know those odds were lousy. “Colonel Malin, inform the commander of C-818 that President Iceni has concealed a large explosive charge in her unit, and if C-818 doesn’t hold its ground and defend this star system, I have the codes to detonate it.”
Malin hesitated. “A heavy cruiser isn’t so large that she won’t be able to eventually discover that there is no such charge, General.”
“All I need is for her to have to remain here while she looks for it. We need some defensive presence.”
Morgan had also arrived and shook her head. “For a moment I thought our President had actually done something smart.”
“If she did,” Drakon said, “I don’t know about it. We haven’t heard anything from that flotilla yet?”
“No, sir,” Morgan said. “They didn’t send anything the moment they arrived here.”
“That’s odd. I would have expected an immediate demand that we surrender.”
“They’re heading… for the hypernet gate,” Malin reported. “They took up that vector immediately upon leaving the jump point.”
Drakon glared at the display. “No Syndicate flotilla would destroy that gate deliberately. They know there’s no longer a threat of the gate’s wiping out this star system when it collapses, but the Syndicate Worlds needs that gate. Why destroy the primary reason they want control of this star system back?”
Morgan suddenly laughed. “Oh, hell. They didn’t come here to attack us. They’re supposed to just pass through.”
“How long will that buy us?”
“Not long at all, General. Right now, they’re picking up lots of comm traffic floating around about General Drakon and President Iceni and the independent Midway Star System, and they’re noticing there’s nothing on the ISS circuits at all. Maybe they’re even picking up comments about the snakes here being dead.” Morgan pointed toward the display. “They’re deciding what it means, and they’re deciding what to do about it. Say you’re the commander of a flotilla and have a chance to reconquer a star system that has pulled out of the Syndicate Worlds? And the only mobile forces the rebels have is a single heavy cruiser? What would you decide, General?”
Drakon nodded heavily. “We’ll probably get their demand for submission to them within half an hour. I am open to suggestions.”
“Talk,” Malin said. “Keep them at arm’s length as long as possible. President Iceni could return at any moment.”
“Tell them you’ll collapse the gate if they attack,” Morgan suggested.
That sounded potentially useful.
“What would you do if I made that threat, Colonel Morgan?” Malin asked.
She paused, then shrugged. “I’d call your bluff.”
“Because it would have to be a bluff, a threat we dare not carry out. If the gate collapses, the value of the infrastructure in this star system shrinks to almost nothing. Control of the star system could be achieved simply by wiping out everyone and everything here by bombardment. They would no longer care what we might do in retaliation for that bombardment.”
Morgan scowled but nodded. “That’s right.”
“Then—” Drakon began, to halt when a comm alert sounded. “Twenty-five minutes for them to evaluate the situation and issue their demands. Let’s see what they say.”
He didn’t recognize the woman sending the message. She looked older, and his first impression was of caution. But first impressions could create later mistakes. Drakon concentrated on what she said and how she said it.
“This is CEO Gathos for the rebels in the Midway Star System. You are to surrender immediately, acknowledging the authority of the Syndicate Worlds, and deliver to me your primary leaders, former CEOs Drakon and Iceni, and their senior staff. If you do not transmit your capitulation within half an hour of your receipt of this message, I will initiate bombardment of noncritical infrastructure. For the people, Gathos, out.”
“Do you know her?” Morgan asked.
“No,” Drakon said. There were a lot of CEOs in the Syndicate Worlds. Iceni might know her, but if Iceni were here to tell him about Gathos, then Iceni would also be here with more mobile forces. “Assessment?”
“She means it,” Morgan replied.
“Agreed,” Malin said.
“Half an hour, or she starts throwing rocks. That rules out talking to buy time.” He looked at the display again, where the path of the Syndicate flotilla had altered, curving down toward the star and toward this planet. Half an hour to reply. Gathos and her flotilla wouldn’t hear that answer for six hours, but he still had to send it within the deadline.
“Pretend to surrender,” Morgan said. “The ship that delivers you to them will have commandos aboard, and we’ll take one of their heavy cruisers. That’ll give us two heavy cruisers to their one, or at worst, they’ll have one left, and we’ll still have one.”
To call that plan desperate was to understate things. “Malin?”
He shook his head. “Colonel Morgan’s plan is a very weak reed on which to base our survival, but I can’t see any other option that offers better odds. The only other thing I could suggest is prayer.”
“Prayer?” Despite his tension, Drakon smiled crookedly. “What would I pray to, Colonel Malin? And what would have any cause to listen to my prayers?”
“Only you could know the answers to those questions, General.”
“Then if you are so inclined, feel free to pray to whatever you can think of that we get out of this in one piece. But also get moving on Morgan’s plan.” He knew it had no chance at all. The moment he surrendered, the locals would start creating trouble, objecting to the return of Syndicate authority and tying down his troops, and the commander of C-818 would have plenty of time to confirm that there were no hidden explosives and either head for distant star systems at high speed or surrender her heavy cruiser to Gathos.
But a very small chance was better than none at all. Drakon’s hand hovered over the reply control.
“General?” Morgan sounded baffled. “They’ve turned.”
“What?” He looked back at the display, seeing that six hours ago, CEO Gathos’s flotilla had bent its course again, turning away from the star and aiming straight for the hypernet gate. “What the hell is she doing?”
“Maybe she lost her nerve.”
“Why? Because she looked up my service record? Somehow, I doubt that.”
They kept watching, but the Syndicate flotilla stayed with the vector it had steadied out on. Drakon’s eyes went to the time. The half-hour time limit was about to expire. “Maybe Gathos is trying to trick us into not surrendering so she has an excuse for pounding this star system into rubble.”
Morgan had been watching the movement of the flotilla with narrowed eyes, and now shook her head. “No. She’s running. I’d stake my life on it.”
“You are.”
“Oh, yeah. I am.” Morgan grinned fiercely. “But maybe I can get to Gathos before I die.”
A sudden laugh from Malin sounded at the same time as another alert from the display. He pointed. “Now we know why CEO Gathos changed her mind about trying to reconquer this star system.”