“They thought I was that Alliance bitch?” Morgan asked. “Now I’m insulted.”
“Colonel Morgan…” Drakon began.
“Pardon me, sir,” Morgan replied. “I will endeavor to avoid using such language about our new friend and ally in the future.”
“We have IDs on the individuals Colonel Morgan took out,” Malin continued, bending his head briefly in Morgan’s direction. “They both belong to an extreme group called The People’s Word, which wants immediate, full democracy.”
Drakon scowled at that. “They want to elect all their leaders now?”
“No, sir. They don’t want any leaders. They want all decisions to be made by direct vote.”
Morgan’s laughter echoed scornfully from the walls. “Oh, yeah, that’ll work.”
“For once, I agree with Colonel Morgan,” Malin said. “However, the attackers’ affiliation with The People’s Word raises a big question. Their philosophy could explain their attack on you, General. It does not explain why they would target an Alliance officer.”
“They’d want that Alliance presence here, wouldn’t they?” Drakon asked, rubbing his chin.
“At the very least, they would regard her as sympathetic to their own agenda,” Malin agreed.
Morgan was pretending to examine her knife, testing the edge. “Where did these People’s Weird guys get the weapons they used to try to kill us?”
“You think there was a deal?” Drakon asked.
“Yes, sir.” Morgan balanced her knife, its point on her forefinger tip. “Somebody offered them the weapons to kill you in return for their agreeing to also take out the Alliance… woman.”
“That could be so,” Malin agreed.
“Or,” Morgan continued, “they planned to take out the woman in addition to you to make it look like an anti-Alliance hit that just happened to take you in as well.”
Malin glanced at Drakon. “Sir, I think we do have to assume you were both targets until we learn more.”
“Where were you, anyway?” Morgan asked, flipping her knife in one hand and catching it by the hilt.
“I was running down leads about the snakes, per General Drakon’s orders.”
Drakon nodded. “I knew where he was. Colonel Malin is not a suspect.”
“What about our President and her hatchet man Togo?”
“I don’t believe that President Iceni was involved,” Drakon said.
“With all due respect, sir,” Morgan said, “don’t believe isn’t the same as knowing.”
“I’m aware of that.” He must have made that statement with extra force because Morgan raised an eyebrow at him. “Colonel Malin, I want you to check on any possible connection between the President’s staff and the attempt to kill Colonel Morgan and me.”
“General?” Morgan said, her tone playful again. “What if they targeted you and me knowing it was me? Who would want to do that?” She smiled at Malin.
“Do you have any proof?” Drakon said.
“Not yet.”
“Nothing happens to anyone until you get proof, show me the proof, and get clear, unequivocal orders about what to do. Is that clear, Colonel Morgan?”
“Yes, sir.” She sat up, her eyes still on Malin, the knife now unmoving in her hand. “I’ll get proof.”
Iceni watched Captain Bradamont enter the room and stand before the long table behind which she and Drakon sat. Bradamont was on unfamiliar terrain, but she looked and acted as if she were in the most well-known and secure of environments. She is a dangerous woman. Is that all the code name Mantis referred to, or is there more that I haven’t seen yet? “Kommodor Marphissa has proposed that we undertake a long and hazardous mission. She said she did so on the basis of your information and recommendations,” Iceni said.
“That is correct,” Bradamont replied.
“I won’t play games with you, Captain. You know your presence here is valuable to us. You also surely know that your presence here creates some problems for us.”
“That was made very clear to me soon after I arrived,” Bradamont said, her eyes going to General Drakon where he sat next to Iceni. “I am sorry for the deaths that occurred in what might have been an attempted attack on me.”
Iceni made a short, angry gesture. “The motives, and targets, involved in that attack are still being investigated. But the incident does highlight our most critical concern. We cannot afford to be seen as lackeys to Admiral Geary.”
“Admiral Geary knows nothing of this proposal, Madam President.”
“You are talking about what we know. I am talking about what others will perceive.” Iceni tapped her data pad. “I have gone through Kommodor Marphissa’s proposal. She makes a good case for the benefits that could accrue to us from recovering the survivors of the Reserve Flotilla. She pays less attention to the potential risks, however.”
Bradamont shook her head slightly. “I have not seen the proposal myself. I don’t deny there are risks involved. There are ways to minimize those risks.”
“Yes, I know.” Iceni kept her expression nonrevealing as she turned to glance at the readout. “The Kommodor proposes to minimize the risks by taking two heavy cruisers, half of what we have, plus four light cruisers and six Hunter-Killers. Plus six freighters. Twelve warships and their crews, as well as the Kommodor commanding the flotilla that defends this star system. This is a huge investment for us.”
“The return, Madam President, would be even larger,” Bradamont said. “Admiral Geary asked me to suggest anything that could strengthen the defenses of this star system. You need those trained personnel, Madam President.”
Iceni wagged one remonstrative forefinger at Bradamont. “Never tell someone in charge what they need, Captain. I’ll decide what I need. I do admit there is a strong case to be made for the benefits to be gained from recovering those personnel. However, if they return to find this star system reconquered by the Syndicate, we will gain no benefits at all.”
“Do you wish me to speak bluntly, Madam President?”
Iceni leaned back, smiling tightly. “Please do.”
Bradamont nodded toward Iceni’s data pad. “Your entire force of warships is insufficient to defend this star system if the Syndicate Worlds sends another flotilla of the same strength as that CEO Boyens came here with. The one thing that will place you in a decent defensive position is your battleship, but only when it is completely outfitted, all of the weapons operational, and is properly crewed. You can outfit that ship, you can get the weapons operational, but can you find enough trained personnel to crew her?”
Drakon, who had seemed to be understandably preoccupied since the attempt on his life the day before, bent a glance Iceni’s way. He didn’t have to say anything. Drakon’s look clearly told her this is your call, not mine.
“Captain Bradamont,” Iceni said, “you know the threats any force from Midway would face as it went to Alliance space and returned. Yet we cannot possibly risk sending more of our very limited numbers of warships than Kommodor Marphissa has already proposed. We need to maintain a warship presence here in case someone other than the Syndicate tries something. What do we have that might balance the odds for the flotilla we send on this proposed mission?”
Bradamont frowned as she considered the question. “Kommodor Marphissa has displayed skill as a combat commander, Madam President.”
“Can she command a force as well as Black Jack?”
“No, but—”
“How much experience does Kommodor Marphissa have with Black Jack’s ways of fighting? His tactics? His ways of gaining victory under even unfavorable circumstances?”