“Sir?” Roman blinked.
“The Federation Senate is the elected government of the Federation,” Admiral Mason said. “That very fact alone gives it legitimacy in the eyes of trillions of human beings, even those who hate and fear the Federation’s power. Admiral Justinian, on the other hand, is a usurper. He has to rely on force and persuasion, threats and blandishments, to encourage people to cooperate with him.”
“But humans have always been willing to follow monarchies in times of hardship,” he added, eyes narrowing. “I wonder if Admiral Justinian intends to declare himself Emperor of Humanity? If so, Hartkopf would have a chance to become Emperor himself, or father the Heir to the Throne. In any case, your reckless disregard of your orders seems to have given us an opportunity. How best, I wonder, to make use of it?”
He looked up suddenly. “The daughter,” he said. “What happened to her?”
Roman had, luckily, prepared for the question. There had been no way to hide the fact that Henrietta had been on the liner, not without arranging for the other prisoners to suffer an unfortunate accident. No one knew, apart from Elf and himself, that she was still alive and on the Midway. And, if he wanted to keep her safe, the admiral must never be allowed to find out.
“The pirates captured her,” he said truthfully. There had been no way to hide that either, even though only a couple of pirates had known her identity and they’d both been killed during the brief confrontation, shot down by their own men. “We have been unable to locate her corpse. They may have handed her over to another ship that escaped detection, or they may simply have killed her and pushed the body out of the airlock.”
“Shame,” Admiral Mason commented. “It would have been nice to hand her over to the Senate along with the other prisoners.”
“Sir,” Roman said slowly, “I think we shouldn’t do anything too hastily.”
Admiral Mason lifted a single eyebrow, daring Roman to proceed further. “We’re talking about men from the admiral’s inner circle,” Roman explained. “The level of intelligence they could give us would be very helpful…”
“ONI would get to interrogate them first, before they were handed over for execution,” Admiral Mason pointed out.
“And there is also the possibility of sowing the seeds of suspicion and distrust between the two warlords,” Roman said. He’d thought about little else since they’d started their flight to the Marx System, and then back to The Hive. “What if we attempted to convince Admiral Justinian that the pirates weren’t pirates at all, but Hartkopf’s forces?”
“And why, exactly, should Hartkopf decide to start a war with his fellow warlord?” Admiral Mason sneered. “Where is the logic in that?”
“Hartkopf knows—he must know—that if he allied with Admiral Justinian, he would always be the junior partner.” Roman smiled. “According to the negotiators, Admiral Justinian was prepared to concede autonomy to Hartkopf, but very little else. What if we convinced Justinian that Hartkopf made a deal with the Federation, and arranged for the negotiating team to fall into our hands?”
“A turncoat can never be trusted, for he turned his coat once,” Admiral Mason said thoughtfully. “It isn’t as if your scenario is impossible, I suppose. On the other hand, captain, the inhabitants of the Marx System could have told you a few things about relying on too complex a plan. How many things do you think could go wrong?”
Roman nodded towards the holographic display, showing the nearby stars and Asimov Points.
“Sir, with all due respect, if the two warlords join forces, we will be hard pressed to defend the Federation’s flank. The prisoners have confirmed that the treaty has already been drawn up and only awaits a royal marriage to seal it. I respectfully submit that anything that has a chance of disrupting that alliance is worth trying. We could hardly be in a worse position.”
“Why is it,” Admiral Mason enquired, “that when a person says ‘with all due respect,’ they mean without any respect at all?” He held up a hand before Roman could try to answer. “Never mind, captain. Very well; I concede your point. Now, how do you intend to turn our two enemies against one another?”
Roman had spent days thinking about the possibilities.
“Sir, Admiral Justinian has the Marx Asimov Point heavily fortified, but they have only a limited mobile component,” he said. “We have the firepower necessary to blow that mobile component to hell and gone.”
“Right,” Admiral Mason agreed. “And assuming that I agreed to take the risk of direct confrontation with his forces—which, may I remind you, we were ordered to avoid if possible—what would it gain us?”
“We use our ECM to pretend to be from Hartkopf’s forces,” Roman said. “We demand a meeting well away from the Asimov Point and wait until the enemy cruisers come into firing range, at which point they’ll open fire. We use the face of one of the prisoners to convince them to come up fat and happy.”
“I doubt they’ll be that willing to take anything on faith,” Admiral Mason said slowly. “Three years of war will have weeded out the incompetents on his side…still, it might work. And dare I assume that you have an operational plan already drawn up?”
“Yes, sir,” Roman said. He accessed his implants and shunted the encrypted file into the admiral’s desktop processor.
“I will review it with my staff and consider it.” Admiral Mason leaned back in his chair, apparently relaxed. “And now that that’s over, perhaps you could give me your verbal impressions of our area of operations.”
“Yes, sir,” Roman said.
He sat back and started to outline his thoughts. Midway’s probes had identified several convoy routes through the border space, although there was no way to know if they were serving the warlords or merely civilians trying to survive as the Federation tore itself apart. Roman’s sensor section had identified one patrolling warship as actually belonging to a mercenary company out of Hobson’s Choice, presumably hired to guard the freighters from pirate attacks—or even one or both of the warlords. The fleet would have good pickings, at least until the warlords started patrolling the sector more aggressively.
“Not too bad,” Admiral Mason said after Roman was done. “One other thing, captain?”
Roman looked up.
“What do you intend to do with the pirate prisoners?” the admiral asked casually.
Roman scowled. He hadn’t bothered to check on the prisoners he’d abandoned in the wreck of the Harmonious Repose. They had enough supplies to last them for several weeks without rescue, assuming they were careful. He wasn’t going to shed any tears if they killed themselves instead, or if they were just never able to recover them. Besides, there was the issue of just how to deal with them. He’d given the pirates his word.
“I was going to have them interrogated to learn the location of their bases and other information, then transfer them to a penal colony,” he said. “I gave them my word.”
“So you did,” Admiral Mason agreed. He leaned forward coldly. “Regulations are clear on this point, captain. Pirates captured in the act are to be executed once interrogated—no exceptions.”
“Yes, sir,” Roman said. “On the other hand, if I’d tried to storm the pirate vessel—or put a missile into her hull—there would have been a bloodbath. And we would have been denied the intelligence windfall I collected from the pirate ship. And we wouldn’t have recovered the pirate ship. I think we could probably put that to use, sir.”