“So you sealed the citadels?”
“Yes.” Line Worker Mentasa blinked back tears. “Not everybody inside. Just our shift. But… had to seal the citadels. Damned snakes… killed the rest. Then tried to get us to open up. Stupid. Killed their hostages. Stupid, damned snakes.”
Rogero was nodding. “Their plan counted on surprise. The warning provided by the sub-CEO before he died helped negate that, but the snakes rigidly followed the same plan, killing all members of the outfitting crew as they encountered them. Only when they realized that the citadels had been sealed and couldn’t be broken into with what they had did the snakes understand that they should have kept some hostages alive to force the ones in the citadels to open up.”
“Yes, sir,” Mentasa said, peering at Rogero. “Sorry we wouldn’t open for you. We knew the lady, the… the CEO would save us.”
Iceni shook her head, angry and not certain exactly why. “I’m not a CEO. I am President Iceni.”
“I’m sorry, Madam… President? I don’t know what a president is.”
“Better than a CEO,” Rogero replied.
“Uh, yes, sir. We saw the ship coming. The freighter. We had enough opticals working to see it come around the planet. We knew it had to have more snakes on it. And then you guys… you came around behind it and… and we knew the stars would save us—” Mentasa stopped speaking, his eyes widening in alarm.
Iceni smiled down at him. “Relax,” she repeated. “I’m not afraid of your beliefs, and the rules of the Syndicate Worlds no longer apply where I am in control. If you want to speak of things like that, you can.”
“Do you believe in the stars? In the ancestors?”
That was a question she had never expected to be asked, and it startled an honest reply out of her. “I don’t… Yes.”
“Because,” Mentasa continued, his voice firming, “we saw that freighter coming. One more hour and they would have been here and we would have been dead. One more hour. Maybe half an hour. Maybe less. But you came. The stars wouldn’t let us die.”
Iceni gazed back wordlessly. Then why didn’t they save your comrades? The ones outside the citadels? Show me some reason in who lives and who dies. Why can’t the stars do that? It would be much easier to hold to the faith of my father if they would. “Where are you from?”
“I’ve been working in Taroa for about fifteen years now. Got a family there.” Wariness had returned to the worker’s eyes. CEOs had a tendency to draft workers they needed, and he must know that Iceni needed him to help get this battleship operational.
“You and the other survivors of the outfitting crew will be offered the chance to remain on this battleship and come with us,” Iceni said. “Or you can take your chances here at Kane. If you come with us, you’ll be allowed to continue on to Taroa if you want, but we’ll offer good wages for you, and safety for your family from the snakes.” Does this man know what is going on at Taroa? Almost certainly not, and there seems no purpose in bringing it up right now. “Once you’ve recovered somewhat, we’ll ask you what your choice is.”
“Thank you, Madam… President. The stars will judge you well for this day.”
Turning away, Iceni walked for the exit. If the stars or something else ever does judge my life, judges everything that I’ve done, I’m not expecting a happy outcome for myself from that.
Just outside the exit, Iceni saw the physician from C-448 as she returned from checking the crew at the citadels. “How are they? All of them?”
The physician shrugged. She was an older woman, close to retirement age, who always seemed weighted by the lives she had failed to save in all the years of her service. “They are all malnourished and suffering from severe physical stress.” She shrugged again. “When I was just starting out, I spent six months of my medical training as an assistant at a labor camp, so it’s nothing I haven’t seen before.”
Labor camps. The Syndicate Worlds’ all-purpose form of punishment short of immediate death. All too often, labor camps had simply been a more extended means of carrying out a death sentence. She had known people sent to labor camps. A few of them had come home when their sentences were up. The others hadn’t survived long enough.
Thinking of that, and of what the snakes had tried to do here, and what the line workers had endured to make possible her own success, something inside Iceni fractured. “There will be no more labor camps. Not anywhere that I have authority.” She walked away, leaving Rogero and the physician staring in her wake, her footsteps echoing hollowly through the empty passageways of the battleship as the soldiers guarding her hastened to catch up.
“Two of the light cruisers want to join us,” Marphissa reported. C-448 had mated to one side of the battleship, like a lamprey attached to a whale, allowing easy access for crew and supplies. “And two of the HuKs. The other light cruiser and the other two HuKs that left their flotilla want to head for the star systems where most of their crews came from.”
“Where are those star systems?” Iceni asked, leaning back in the command seat of the battleship. Few of its controls worked at the moment, but it still felt awesome to sit there. With just her and Marphissa present, it only emphasized how much larger and impressive the battleship’s bridge was compared to that of a heavy cruiser.
“The light cruiser wants to get to Cadez. The HuKs are aiming for Dermat and Kylta.”
“None of those are close.” Iceni sighed, feeling a curiously weary sensation now that the tension of the last several days was relieved by the successes. “But if they’re home for those crews, I wish them luck. What about the light cruiser and two HuKs that headed for the second planet?”
“They’re in orbit there. We’ve seen some shuttle activity. There are no signs of trouble on the planet, though, or in comms.” Marphissa paused, her gaze wandering across the almost deserted bridge. “I talked with Colonel Rogero about that. We think the citizens here are waiting to see what you do, Madam President, and what the senior snakes do.”
“That’s a good guess. Citizens who don’t learn to wait and see what their superiors are up to tend to pay a big price.” Iceni smiled wryly at Marphissa. “Are you and the colonel friends now, Kommodor?”
“Not exactly friends. Mutual respect is probably the best term, I think. And I’m not crazy enough to want to get involved with a dirt eater even if he weren’t giving off vibes of already being involved with someone else.”
“Really?”
“It’s just an impression. You know how some people seem to be wearing a ring even when they’re not. Colonel Rogero felt like that to me.”
Wearing a ring? With an Alliance officer involved? “Did he make a play for you?”
That brought a laugh from the Kommodor. “No. I’m sure if he intended that, he knew he’d be wasting his time.”
“You’re committed to someone?” Iceni asked. It never hurt to know little details about people that might be useful in the future.
This time Marphissa smiled, but sadly. “There’s only been two men that I might have committed to. One died at Atalia before that happened, fighting the Alliance. The other told me after my brother was arrested by the snakes that associating with me any longer might harm his career.”
“How nice,” Iceni commented.
“I’m sure once he got out of the hospital, he went on to some other fool woman.” Marphissa looked around the bridge again, clearly wanting to change the topic. “Where are we going to get enough people to crew this battleship?”