Free The Lost Stars: Shattered Spear by Jack Campbell Page A

much is reasonable?” the Taroan asked.
    “What can be spared,” Iceni said. “And not all of that. You need to have enough to rebuild your economies and to expand. We don’t want weak client star systems. We want you all to become strong enough to be partners. Economic partners as well as partners in defense.”
    Their skepticism was easy to see. Drakon answered the unspoken question. “We’ve all experienced Syndicate practices, where they milk the cow until it’s dead, feast on the carcass, then go looking for another cow. You, and me, all of us, have been in the position of that cow. Now that President Iceni and I have the ability to do things the way we want to do them, we’re trying to avoid repeating the mistakes of the Syndicate.”
    “You want us to be fat cows,” the Taroan said.
    “That’s right,” Iceni said. “We’re trying to think long-term, despitethe very short-term worries about whether any of us will survive for the long term.”
    “On behalf of the provisional government of Kane,” that woman vowed, “I commit us to this. Midway helped us when we had been nearly crushed by Syndicate bombardment. They helped us and asked for nothing in return.” She looked a challenge at the representatives of Taroa, Ulindi, and Kahiki. “Because of the damage we have sustained, we will be the least in this . . . this association of star systems. But we will rebuild, and we will be strong, and we will stand with Midway.”
    “Association?” the young man from Ulindi asked. “Is that what it would be called?”
    “No.” Iceni smiled, tapping another control. An image appeared next to her, showing a raptorlike bird with spread wings rising from the atomic fires of a star. “We thought we would call it the Phoenix Stars. Strong. Indestructible. Rising from the ashes of what was before.”
    The Syndicate had never been that big on symbolism. It got in the way of efficiency, it cost extra money, and anyway workers lacked the imagination to understand symbols, or so the bureaucracy thought. They produced crests and insignias for ships and ground forces, but only because that helped identify them. The actual images used, and any accompanying mottos, were always what a long chain of bureaucrats thought looked good. Everyone mocked the resulting symbols except for those who had generated them.
    It had never been a smart way of doing business, but it was far from the stupidest thing done in the name of uniformity, conformity, efficiency, and of course in hopes of saving a little money. “Small cuts can make for big costs,” one of Iceni’s mentors had once explained, and she had never forgotten that. She had also never forgotten how effective well-chosen symbols could be.
    No one said anything, but the eager smiles on the faces of the star system representatives told Iceni what she needed to know. This symbol could rally star systems to a single cause.
    “Send our offer to your star systems,” Iceni directed. “I’ll provide you with the proposed text for the agreement of association. Get formal answers from them and be sure they know of the threat from the enigmas. In light of the urgency of the information about the enigmas, we do not want you to have to wait for transport to your own star systems. We will provide each of you with a Hunter-Killer from our mobile forces for transport for yourself or whoever else you want to convey the message.” The temporary loss of the use of four HuKs was not a small price, but once again the symbolism was worth the cost.
    She looked at the representative from Ulindi. “There will be an extra passenger going to your star system.”
    “An extra passenger?”
    “Another survivor from the old Reserve Flotilla. He wants to emigrate to Ulindi. Perhaps he will be able to render some assistance to you in organizing things there.”
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    “A freighter arrived from Ulindi today,” Colonel Malin reported. “We had an agent aboard it who reported that