“Maybe someday we might, but we’ve already got a lot more junk in the buried warehouses here and on other planets in this star system than we can use.”
“What is it worth?” Iceni said, wincing inside at the need to consider cost.
“Worth? If we needed it, it would be priceless. But we don’t need it. Kane does, though.”
“Kane does,” Iceni agreed. “Artur, I am incredibly grateful for this. It may be a very small thing measured against Kane’s need, but Kane will remember this, that we helped them when they needed it.”
Drakon paused, studying her. “Is that what this is all about? Political maneuvering? Getting someone else to feel in our debt?”
“No! I—”
Why am I objecting? Of course, I should be doing this to get Kane in our debt. That’s just a smart way of doing business. So what?
“Is there some other reason?”
He shrugged again. “Just checking.”
“Listen, General, it doesn’t matter what our motivations are. Kane will be grateful.”
“And . . . ?”
“And
what
?”
Drakon gave her a serious look. “I was wondering if our motivations do matter. We started doing all this in order to survive. Is that still our reason for what we’re doing?”
Iceni leaned back, letting a small smile play on her lips, giving the outward image she had learned to project as a Syndicate CEO. “Isn’t that enough of a reason?”
“I don’t know,” Drakon replied, sounding thoughtful. “Survival can lead to a lot of short-term solutions that blow up in your face over the long run.”
“That’s not exactly breaking news,” Iceni said, wondering what Drakon was driving at.
“What do we want at Kane? There’s a lot of potential there, and the Syndicate just pretty much wiped out all the different people who were fighting to be in charge. It will be a decade before Kane can rebuild much, but if you and I are still around then, what do we want Kane to be? And what about Ulindi? If we take that star system, do we let them set up some government we can live with, or do we install a puppet, or do we make Ulindi part of our . . . what? Empire?”
She paused to think that through while Drakon waited with stolid patience. “Empire” sounded nice. But . . . “Could we even hold an empire? Defend it against external attacks and maintain internal order?”
“I don’t think so. We don’t have enough ground forces or warships for that job. Not even close.” Drakon waved one hand upward. “We’ve got enough firepower to do what the Syndicate just did at Kane, but I don’t mind admitting that I don’t have the stomach for that.”
“Nor do I. We’re trying to tie Taroa tightly to us. Why not do the same at Ulindi?”
Another shrug. “If we can, sure. What is it we’re building here, Gwen? Not another Syndicate, right? But what is it, then?”
“The Syndicate was never big on teaching about alternate forms of governance.” Iceni rested her chin on one hand, gazing into the distance. “We sure as hell can’t call it an Alliance. That name is poison here after the war. Partnership? Consortium?”
“Those sound pretty Syndicate,” Drakon said.
“They do, don’t they? But we’re talking about an agreement, shared among several parties. A treaty?”
“Maybe.”
“Or compact? A cooperative? There’s no rush coming up with a name, is there?”
“There might be.” Drakon frowned at her. “What we call it, what we propose to call it, will send a message to everyone else. Anyone we want to be part of it will be looking to see if the name implies anything Syndicate. Anyone outside it will be looking for signs it is a nickname for empire. When someone wants to know what Midway represents, what message do we send them? Survival and power for you and me? That probably won’t be too persuasive for other star systems. It might also create internal problems. Labeling ourselves rulers of something that sounds Syndicate would make our own citizens wonder if some of
“What is it worth?” Iceni said, wincing inside at the need to consider cost.
“Worth? If we needed it, it would be priceless. But we don’t need it. Kane does, though.”
“Kane does,” Iceni agreed. “Artur, I am incredibly grateful for this. It may be a very small thing measured against Kane’s need, but Kane will remember this, that we helped them when they needed it.”
Drakon paused, studying her. “Is that what this is all about? Political maneuvering? Getting someone else to feel in our debt?”
“No! I—”
Why am I objecting? Of course, I should be doing this to get Kane in our debt. That’s just a smart way of doing business. So what?
“Is there some other reason?”
He shrugged again. “Just checking.”
“Listen, General, it doesn’t matter what our motivations are. Kane will be grateful.”
“And . . . ?”
“And
what
?”
Drakon gave her a serious look. “I was wondering if our motivations do matter. We started doing all this in order to survive. Is that still our reason for what we’re doing?”
Iceni leaned back, letting a small smile play on her lips, giving the outward image she had learned to project as a Syndicate CEO. “Isn’t that enough of a reason?”
“I don’t know,” Drakon replied, sounding thoughtful. “Survival can lead to a lot of short-term solutions that blow up in your face over the long run.”
“That’s not exactly breaking news,” Iceni said, wondering what Drakon was driving at.
“What do we want at Kane? There’s a lot of potential there, and the Syndicate just pretty much wiped out all the different people who were fighting to be in charge. It will be a decade before Kane can rebuild much, but if you and I are still around then, what do we want Kane to be? And what about Ulindi? If we take that star system, do we let them set up some government we can live with, or do we install a puppet, or do we make Ulindi part of our . . . what? Empire?”
She paused to think that through while Drakon waited with stolid patience. “Empire” sounded nice. But . . . “Could we even hold an empire? Defend it against external attacks and maintain internal order?”
“I don’t think so. We don’t have enough ground forces or warships for that job. Not even close.” Drakon waved one hand upward. “We’ve got enough firepower to do what the Syndicate just did at Kane, but I don’t mind admitting that I don’t have the stomach for that.”
“Nor do I. We’re trying to tie Taroa tightly to us. Why not do the same at Ulindi?”
Another shrug. “If we can, sure. What is it we’re building here, Gwen? Not another Syndicate, right? But what is it, then?”
“The Syndicate was never big on teaching about alternate forms of governance.” Iceni rested her chin on one hand, gazing into the distance. “We sure as hell can’t call it an Alliance. That name is poison here after the war. Partnership? Consortium?”
“Those sound pretty Syndicate,” Drakon said.
“They do, don’t they? But we’re talking about an agreement, shared among several parties. A treaty?”
“Maybe.”
“Or compact? A cooperative? There’s no rush coming up with a name, is there?”
“There might be.” Drakon frowned at her. “What we call it, what we propose to call it, will send a message to everyone else. Anyone we want to be part of it will be looking to see if the name implies anything Syndicate. Anyone outside it will be looking for signs it is a nickname for empire. When someone wants to know what Midway represents, what message do we send them? Survival and power for you and me? That probably won’t be too persuasive for other star systems. It might also create internal problems. Labeling ourselves rulers of something that sounds Syndicate would make our own citizens wonder if some of
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