“Greetings, Kommodor,” Freya Mercia said. She was seated on the expansive bridge of the battleship, looking gratifyingly confident and composed. “It appears that we got here in time. I will be proceeding at my best speed in-system toward the main inhabited world until I receive other instructions. President Iceni had concerns about our warships and about General Drakon’s ground forces, and I can see those concerns were more than justified. I await your orders, and assure you that Midway is ready to strike the enemy and avenge the citizens of Kane.”
The view of Kapitan Mercia panned slightly to one side, revealing another figure in the seat next to her, a woman wearing a very different uniform. “We have also brought Captain Bradamont along. She knows a few things about fighting Syndicate battleships, after all. Please inform CEO Boucher for me that this star system will be her graveyard. For the people, Mercia, out.”
Marphissa pointed at Diaz. “Kapitan, give me a vector to get Manticore and Gryphon back to the planet and over General Drakon’s troops again. I’ll order Hawk and Eagle to join up with us there. If I know CEO Boucher, she’s going to stop worrying about the freighters, collect Haris’s two cruisers, and head for an intercept with the Midway.” She straightened, adjusted her uniform, put on her best command face, then touched her comm controls. “Kapitan Mercia, Captain Bradamont, we are very happy to see you. Remain in your current vector. I expect CEO Boucher to alter vector to attack you. We will give the ground forces what remaining support we can, then head to meet up with Midway before you encounter the Syndicate flotilla. For the people, Marphissa, out.”
“Kommodor,” Diaz said after she ended the transmission, “Happy Hua might decide to strike at General Drakon before heading to attack the Midway.”
“No, she will not.” Marphissa turned a fierce look on Diaz. “The Syndicate was waiting for us here. They knew a lot about our plans and our forces. They will have told CEO Boucher that the Midway’s weapons are still not operational, and using Syndicate standards, Hua will feel safe in assuming those weapons could not possibly have been brought to operational status in this short a time. She will be furious that Midway’s bluff chased her from Midway Star System last time. She will want to counter what she believes to be another bluff. Happy Hua’s priority will be to catch and destroy Midway before she can escape from Ulindi.”
Diaz smiled. “Hua is going to close her hand on a bear trap.”
“And we’re going to be there when she does. But first, we’re going to give the ground forces what support we have left.” Marphissa called up an image of the last-known status of the ground forces. “Are they still in the buildings or have they taken the base? We can’t drop a bombardment if we don’t know. Have your comm people try to get in contact with the ground forces.”
“Get on it,” Diaz ordered the bridge comm specialist. “Tell comms I want to punch through to the ground forces.”
“Yes, Kapitan,” she replied. “There is still a lot of jamming and other interference, and the ground forces’ transmitters are relatively weak. But we will do it if it can be done.”
Diaz leaned back, looking pensive as he gazed at his display. “I worked for a sub-CEO once who would have told me to do it even if it couldn’t be done.”
“I worked for one like that, too,” Marphissa said. “Three like that. At least we’re closing on the ground forces’ locations. Maybe when we get close enough, we can talk to someone.”
“Half an hour until we should be in orbit directly over the ground forces,” Diaz said.
Marphissa stirred, touching a comm control. “Sentinel, have you or other Hunter-Killers been able to monitor activity on the surface?”
Sentinel’s reply took almost six minutes. “Negative, Kommodor. We have seen fighting and figures moving, but our ability to see through all of the smoke and chaff is pretty low. All we can tell you for certain is that fighting is still under way around the base.”
Marphissa waved away the virtual window showing Sentinel’s commanding officer. Asking the Hunter-Killers had been a long shot. They were small, they had relatively limited and weak sensors compared to those on larger warships, and as Sentinel had said, there was so much junk in the atmosphere that seeing what was going on at the level of detail necessary to distinguish between Midway soldiers in Syndicate battle armor and Syndicate soldiers in Syndicate battle armor would have required a miraculous level of luck.
“Kommodor,” Senior Specialist Czilla announced. “We have firm tracks on both of Haris’s cruisers.”
Marphissa checked that portion of her display, smiling as she saw that the vectors for both cruisers were heading to an intercept with the Syndicate flotilla. We walked into your trap, Happy Hua. Now you are doing what we expect and what we want, and the trap will spring on you.
“Kommodor,” the comm specialist said, “we do not know whether any of our messages have reached General Drakon’s forces, but we have just received a text-only message for you from the planet. Our ground forces must have gained access to a more powerful transmitter, but it appears text-only is all they can get through the jamming that Haris’s forces are maintaining.”
“What does it say?” Marphissa asked, resting her chin in one hand while she gazed at the old depiction of the ground situation.
“Have taken enemy base,” the comm specialist recited. “Drakon forces now inside base. Under heavy attack from estimated division-strength Syndicate ground forces outside base. Request any assistance possible.”
Diaz shook his head. “How can we believe that? Haris could have sent it, trying to fool us into bombarding Drakon. What if it is our own ground forces that are still outside, attacking Haris’s forces inside the base?”
“That’s a very good point,” Marphissa said, frowning. “Every text message looks the same, no matter who sent it. How can we tell one side from the other when we’re looking down at a ground battle from orbit, and both sides are wearing the same battle armor? Is that the entire message?” she demanded of the comm specialist. “Was there anything else?”
“Just a section at the end that must have gotten garbled, Kommodor,” the comm specialist replied.
“What does it say?”
“It says… wash your sins away in the tide. That’s what it says, Kommodor. It doesn’t make any sense.”
“Wash—?” Marphissa sat straight. “Show it to me. Show me the entire text message.”
A window popped into existence next to her, the lines of text marching across it. There at the end was the phrase the comm specialist had repeated. “Wash your sins away in the tide,” Marphissa repeated out loud, smiling with relief.
“Does that mean something?” Diaz asked. “What does that mean?”
“It means, Kapitan, that whoever sent that text message is a person entrusted by President Iceni with certain phrases that allow other trusted people to recognize them. President Iceni trusted the person who sent this text message enough to give them that phrase. I will believe that the message is true.”
“But what if Haris learned the phrase?” Diaz objected.
“If that is true, if he knows that much, then we are lost,” Marphissa said.
“But… the message claims they are under attack from an entire division of Syndicate ground forces that we didn’t know were there? An entire division?” Diaz asked.
“You would make a very bad yes-man,” Marphissa said. “That’s one of the things I like about you as a Kapitan, but don’t take it too far. Think about it, and it makes sense. That Syndicate division is the ground forces equivalent of the Syndicate battleship that was hidden, waiting for us in space. I don’t know how they managed it, but it’s a classic snake trick. Let someone think they have the upper hand, let someone believe that they are in control, and then when they have stuck their necks out, bring the axe down.”