Diaz looked around, his mouth working, then back at Marphissa. “And because it weakens the Syndicate?”
“Certainly that, too. Look, Chintan, she hates the Syndicate, we hate the Syndicate. She spent time in a labor camp. We don’t have to like each other, but we can help each other.”
“True.” Diaz gave her a twisted smile. “But you do like her.”
Marphissa started to deny it, then spread her hands in a helpless gesture. “We get along.”
“Will she talk to me?”
“Of course she will. That’s why Black Jack sent her to us.”
Diaz nodded slowly, his eyes once more on his display, his expression thoughtful.
The reply from the authorities in Indras took exactly one hour and one minute longer than transmission times across the vast gulf of interplanetary space required. That timing made it obvious a snub was being delivered, an impression confirmed for Marphissa when CEO Yamada, a man of late middle age who had obviously lived many of those years too well, began speaking. “CEO Manetas, I have not heard of you.”
“He knows you’re a fake!” Diaz cried.
“No,” Marphissa said. “President Iceni told me I might hear something like that. It’s a CEO put-down. He’s saying I can’t be all that important because he never heard of me. It means they fell for it.”
Yamada had continued speaking as if the conversation held no interest for him. “I do not have any need for your assistance. You may continue on your assigned duties. I will expect you to leave both heavy cruisers here when you return as I have use for them. Enjoy your trip through Kalixa. For the people, Yamada, out.”
Diaz and Marphissa both laughed. “He did buy it!” Diaz said.
“He’s going to be very disappointed when we come back,” Marphissa said, “and tell him and every other CEO in this star system where they can stuff their expectations.” She got up. “I am changing out of this awful suit and putting on a uniform I am proud to wear,” Marphissa announced for the benefit of the bridge watch specialists. “Keep me informed of developments, Kapitan Diaz.”
“Yes, Kommodor Marphissa,” Diaz replied with a grin.
She stopped by Bradamont’s stateroom on the way to her own. “Our deception worked. Can you believe they thought I was a real Syndicate CEO?”
Bradamont nodded approvingly. “Good work. I was just watching my display and remembering the last time I came through here. It never occurred to me I’d come back aboard a former Syndic cruiser.” She nodded again, this time at her display. “Indras is far enough from the border with the Alliance that it didn’t get hit too often. It’s a shame a decent star system like this is still part of the Syndicate Worlds.”
Marphissa leaned against the side of the entry. “It’s all a lie, you know. Everything you’re seeing is fake. Those big manufacturing centers and transportation hubs? They’re full of inefficiencies, shoddy work, theft, and diversion of goods to the black market, thanks to workers who know the system is rigged against them and so don’t care about their jobs, and thanks to supervisors who owe their promotions to superiors who only care whether the supervisors tell them what they want to hear. The schools and universities teach technical subjects fairly well, but everything else they teach is lies. The houses and apartment complexes look neat and secure and safe, but they’re full of families and individuals who live every moment in fear that the Internal Security Service will come knocking because the snakes suspect them of something or they were accused of something or just because some snake supervisor needs to fill an arrest quota. That’s the real Syndicate system.”
“I’m sorry,” Bradamont said. “No one should have to live that way.”
“Should has nothing to do with it. It’s the way it is. The way it has been. But not at Midway anymore. We’ll get strong enough to help other star systems, too, like we did Taroa. Someday, the Syndicate will just be a bad memory.”
“And then somebody will start a new version of it,” Bradamont commented gloomily. “There’s been a lot of speculation in the Alliance that the Syndic leaders kept the war going because it helped hold together the Syndicate Worlds and allowed them to justify repression and everything else.”
“They didn’t need the war to justify repression,” Marphissa scoffed. “They stopped trying to justify things a long time ago. But it is true that we couldn’t rebel while people were worried about what the Alliance would do to us. Why swap one set of tyrants for another set?”
“The Alliance isn’t run by tyrants,” Bradamont said, startled. “The instability there these days is precisely because we can vote out our leaders. The people are doing that, and not always for the right reasons.”
“You’re talking about the way things are in the Alliance,” Marphissa pointed out. “I’m talking about what we were told about the Alliance. We knew what we were told was probably lies, but we didn’t know the truth. What we did know was that people in power were corrupt and cared nothing for those beneath them. Why should we expect your leaders to differ from ours?”
Bradamont shook her head. “How did you come out the way you did, Asima? You’re not a bad person. Not at all.”
“I knew I could either be like the people I hated, or I could be something else. I decided to be something else.” Marphissa paused. “The CEO here made some mocking comment about enjoying our trip through Kalixa. I know that’s where a hypernet gate collapsed and caused a lot of damage. How bad is it?”
“Bad,” Bradamont said. “Very bad.”
They were still twelve hours away from the jump point when Marphissa was awakened from sleep in her stateroom by an urgent summons. “We’ve received a snake message,” Diaz said. “We can’t read it, but it’s high-priority and addressed to the fake Syndicate hull identification we’ve been broadcasting.”
Marphissa stared at him, puzzled, then felt horror replacing her bafflement. “They want the snakes on our ships to check in with them! There haven’t been any snake status reports sent from our ships!”
“Damn! I should have—”
“We all should have thought of that! Quick. Have a message made up using as templates some of those snake messages we captured after we killed them. Use the snake encryption we brought from Midway. It will be old, but it’s the best we’ve got. Tell them… tell the snakes in Indras that there are new procedures. ISS agents on ships are supposed to maintain comm silence as much as possible to keep rebels from knowing which ships are still loyal.”
“Kommodor, that is really weak,” Diaz said, “but it’s a lot stronger than anything I’ve thought of. I’ll get the message ready and send it to you for approval.”
Marphissa sat on the edge of her bunk, staring into her darkened stateroom. So close. We almost made it out of Indras without being uncovered. But it looks like we’re going to be busted before we leave here, and that might mean getting home will be a nightmare.
Chapter Twelve
“There’s no way the snakes in Indras would accept silence in response to their demand,” Marphissa said to Bradamont, who, along with Kapitan Diaz, had come to Marphissa’s stateroom in response to a summons.
“Then it sounds like you have no choice but to try your bluff,” Bradamont agreed, looking unhappy.
“Can you think of anything more plausible?”