The Lost Stars: Imperfect Sword (15 page)

“We could never—” Diaz began, then stared at his display with a pained look. “I wonder how many people said that over the last century, then found themselves doing things. You’re right, Kommodor. It has to be something stronger than a rule or law that can be changed or ignored. It has to be something that no one would even imagine changing.”

“There, you see?” Marphissa said. “As long as you say
you’re right, Kommodor
, everything is fine. Remember that.”

Diaz grinned. “Yes, Kommodor. But what would be strong enough to ensure our people do not find themselves on such a road?”

“I don’t know. Maybe show those vids from Kane. We could do that once a year, on the anniversary. Kane Day, to remember what separates us from the Syndicate.” She could sense the reaction from the crew on the bridge, a feeling of approval, support, and determination. “But that is for the future. Now, let’s get to that planet and get rid of Supreme CEO Haris.”

Marphissa gave the orders that brought the warships and freighters around a bit and down, slowly accelerating. At an average velocity of point zero five light, which would push the lumbering freighters to the limits of their capabilities, it would take five days to reach the planet where Haris and his two warships awaited them. “All ships return to standard readiness conditions,” Marphissa ordered.

“Kapitan?” the comms specialist said. “Something has happened with communications in this star system. They’ve stopped.”

Diaz glanced back at her, frowning again. “Which comms have stopped? Why?”

“All of them, Kapitan. I’m not picking up anything. The last message we received was
commence stand-down
. That came from the inhabited world. Then everything went silent.”

“A complete comm stand-down?” Diaz looked over at Marphissa. “That’s unusual. But it can’t be related to our arrival. That stand-down message was sent nearly six hours before we got here.”

“Kapitan.” The comm specialist spoke again. “We’re continuing to analyze the comm traffic. Some of the last messages we picked up talked about an upcoming stand-down and suggested it was security-related.”

Marphissa frowned, thinking as she looked at her display. “Maybe that spy who gave us the information about the defenses here tripped some alerts. If he or she was digging around in databases, it might have led Haris’s snakes to order a stand-down to look for the access points and other vulnerabilities. You’re right that it can’t have been caused by our arrival here. The times don’t line up. Let me know as soon as comms go active again,” she ordered, then touched her own comm controls.

General Drakon responded within a few seconds. He must have been on the bridge of the freighter he was riding. He had that rumpled look that anyone acquired when riding freighters, an appearance born of not enough room for clothes, not enough opportunities to get clean, and not enough room of any kind. It brought to mind the old joke about
lots of small confined spaces inside a large confined space inside an infinity of empty space
. “How does it look, Kommodor?” he asked her.

Marphissa waved outward. “No surprises, General. Haris’s two warships are orbiting the inhabited world. I’ll notify you when they break orbit there. No other defenses aside from the minor ones identified by our agent.”

“Good. How long until we reach our objective?”

“Five days, General. I should mentioned that there’s some unusual comm activity, or rather lack of comm activity. It looks like a total comm stand-down that began six hours before we arrived here. There are some indications that it might be security-related.”

Drakon nodded. “They’ve probably been dealing with a lot of intrusions lately,” he commented. “Let me know how long it lasts.”

Marphissa, expecting Drakon to demand from her a detailed description of her plans for dealing with Haris’s cruisers, was no longer sure what to say. “We’ll get the freighters safely to the inhabited world, General.”

“I never doubted that, Kommodor. Give me a heads-up if anything changes. Otherwise, we’ll plan for the drop one hundred twenty hours from now.”

She eyed the place where Drakon’s image had been, trying to sort out her feelings. Marphissa still had vague suspicions about the general. She had heard rumors that he was plotting against the president, but never any details. And Honore Bradamont trusted General Drakon, said he was loyal to President Iceni, as hard as that was to believe. After all, Drakon had been a Syndicate CEO.

But then, so had President Iceni.

And, for whatever reasons, General Drakon was giving every indication of trusting Marphissa to do her job well.

Despite her earlier ambivalence, Marphissa found herself wanting to make sure that she did not let the general down.

—

GWEN
Iceni, irritable with General Drakon and worried about having two-thirds of his soldiers and half of her operational warships gone from Midway, decided to question CEO Jason Boyens again. If he didn’t reveal anything worthwhile this time, she might authorize some coercive measures on him just to make herself feel better.

Unfortunately, she knew that authorizing coercive measures wouldn’t make her feel better, and in fact would make her feel worse, which only made her more irritable.

She took a seat in front of the wall-sized virtual window that gave a clear view of the cell Boyens occupied. As cells went, it wasn’t bad, with halfway-comfortable furnishings. Boyens, having been told that Iceni was coming to speak with him, was already seated in a chair facing her. There were several rooms and armored walls between where the two sat, but they appeared to be facing each other separated by only a couple of meters. “To what do I owe the honor of your visit?” Boyens asked in a cheery voice.

“I’m trying to decide how to kill you,” Iceni said flatly, “and was hoping to get some inspiration from conversing with you.”

He grinned. “Gwen, if you were going to kill me, I’d be dead before I knew what you were intending.”

“Then you should be aware how close you are to that,” Iceni said. “Your failure to provide us with any more useful information is leading me to conclude that you are actually here as a Syndicate agent. Tell me why I shouldn’t have you disposed of simply to eliminate that possibility.”

Boyens sobered and sighed heavily. “The only thing keeping me alive is what I know. Once you have it, how do I know you won’t dispose of me as no longer useful?”

“You claim to know me, and yet you say that?”

He watched her, then nodded with clear reluctance. “I know you well enough to know when you mean what you say. Does Drakon feel the same way?”

“He did when he left.”

“Left?” Boyens looked startled. “He left this star system? With you in charge?”

She felt amused by that, by her ability to surprise someone used to the ways that Syndicate CEOs normally operated. “Yes.”

“So it’s just you now.” Boyens made it a statement, not a question, then looked mildly surprised when she shook her head.

“General Drakon and I are partners,” Iceni said.

“Oh.”

The way Boyens said that one word, and the careful lack of visible reaction on his face, irritated her even more. “I’m not referring to any personal relationship,” Iceni snapped at him. “It is purely professional, not that it is any business of yours. All you need to know is that both General Drakon and I know the other will not betray them.” That was an overstatement, of course, and Boyens probably wouldn’t believe a word of it. What surprised Iceni was discovering as she said it that the statement felt like the truth to her.

Boyens nodded apologetically. “It’s your star system. You get to run it however you want. Can you . . . tell me where Drakon went?”

“If I do, I’d better get something extremely useful in exchange for the information.”

Boyens hesitated, then nodded again. “Deal.”

“He’s gone to Ulindi.”

Boyens stared at her, visibly rattled. “Ulindi? You’re sending forces to Ulindi?”

“That’s what I said.”

“You— How many? How large a force?”

Iceni eyed him, wondering what Boyens was up to. “Why should I provide you with
that
information as well?”

He looked down, chewing his lip, and remained silent for several seconds. Finally, Boyens looked back at her and shrugged. “All right. I didn’t want to play one of my last trump cards. You’re going after Haris, right?”

“Supreme CEO Haris, yes,” Iceni confirmed. “Why does that concern you so much? Is he a friend of yours?”

“Haris? The only friends Haris cultivates are those that can help him gain a promotion.” Boyens grimaced, running one hand through his hair. “But he’s not really Supreme CEO. I mean, he didn’t come up with that title. The snakes did.”

“The snakes?” Iceni felt a chill run down her spine. “Haris is acting under orders?”

“That’s right. He didn’t really claim any autonomy. It’s all theater. Haris is just as much a part of the Syndicate ISS as he always was.” Boyens leaned forward, his expression urgent. “The Syndicate has reinforcements ready to commit to Ulindi. I don’t know what those reinforcements are or how many there are. It was all within snake channels, and I couldn’t risk snooping into those very much. But Haris has more firepower than you think he does.”

Iceni cupped her chin with one hand as she studied Boyens. All of the interrogation-cell indicators glowed green, so either Boyens was amazingly talented at fooling interrogation gear or he truly believed what he was telling her. “We had some very good preoperational surveillance,” Iceni finally said. “It didn’t spot those reinforcements that you are claiming exist.”

“It wouldn’t! Nothing at Ulindi has any records of that! There are total cutouts between Ulindi and the rest of the Syndicate, just as if Haris had really broken off from the Syndicate. But any ISS sources left at Midway who spotted any of your preparations to hit Ulindi would have passed information back to the snakes, and the snakes would have timed reinforcements to get to Ulindi and hammer whatever you sent. Given the time lag involved in passing information, your sources at Ulindi wouldn’t have been able to get word back here of the reinforcements arriving at Ulindi before your attack force left.”

Boyens held both of his hands before him, palms turned toward her, his voice pleading. “Look, I know you have reason to be skeptical of me. But I don’t want you and Drakon to be crushed, and I know you guys can’t afford to lose a big chunk of what forces you have. I’m telling you that whatever you sent to Ulindi isn’t going to be enough. Your attack force is walking into a trap.”

ICENI
shook her head, maintaining an impassive expression despite the riot of emotions inside her. “Ulindi is a trap? Why should I believe you?”

“Because—” Boyens broke off and laughed in a sad way. “Because I want to work the angles, the options, Gwen. That’s me, right? And I can’t work options if there aren’t any options. You see? Right now, and as far as I can tell, you and Artur Drakon are the only alternative to the Syndicate that has a chance out here. There are other star systems revolting against the Syndicate in other nearby regions, but I don’t know the people or the exact situations in those places, and a lot of them are just going to hell as different factions fight for control. If the Syndicate regains enough strength, it will roll up each of those other star systems. If the Syndicate just keeps trying to regain control of them, the back-and-forth struggles are likely to devastate those places no matter who ultimately wins.”

Boyens spread his hands and smiled ruefully. “I don’t want to gain temporary power over ruins. Hell, I don’t want ruins. I won’t lie. I want power, I want a secure position of authority. Look around, Gwen. Where do you see security and stability? Here. Not on Prime, where the knives are out, the CEOs are busy stabbing their rivals, and the snakes are getting rid of anyone who looks strong enough to threaten them. Imagine having Happy Hua at your back, ready to strike if you fail too badly or if you succeed too well. I don’t know how you and Artur figured out how to work together, but between that, breaking the snakes’ power here, Black Jack’s support, and the forces you’ve managed to accumulate, you’ve got a real chance.”

“You’re acting purely out of self-interest, then?” Iceni asked. “You believe that we represent your best chance to get what you want?”

“Damn right.”

“
That
I can believe.” Iceni paused to think through her options.

“You’ve got to send a ship after your attack force,” Boyens urged. “Recall them before it’s too late.”

“It’s already too late. By the time any warning I send could reach Ulindi, the ground forces will have already landed. I need to send some reinforcements to even the odds.”

“Reinforcements?” Boyens looked around as if he could see through the walls confining him. “What have you got that could make a difference?”

“I’m going to find out,” Iceni said, hoping that she could come up with something big enough to make a difference. “Damn you! If Artur Drakon dies because you withheld this information until now, I promise you that
you
will die as well, and it will
not
be an easy death!”

—

THE
training area was well out in the country, far from the city, along routes normally traveled only by military vehicles. It had taken Roh Morgan far too long to cross that distance without being spotted, only to encounter a newly expanded and reinforced sensor field surrounding the training area. She was tempted to turn back at that point but realized that she had to know what all of those sensors were protecting. It had to be something significant.

The sensors were the latest models, the most sensitive yet created, but that was all to the good as far as Morgan was concerned. The more sensitive the sensor, the more it had to be adjusted and calibrated to ignore the presence and movements of native animals, birds, and insects as well as the movements of vegetation in the wind. With the right clothing and the right ways of moving, someone could mimic those native creatures and natural movements enough to keep the sensors from alerting.

The downside was that such travel was painstakingly slow, and this sensor field unusually wide.

By the time Morgan reached a vantage point looking down onto the training area, another several hours had been wasted. She raised the cam-nocs she had lifted from ground forces headquarters, using the same deliberate, careful movements that had brought her this far, zooming in the focus on the terrain below her.

The tents and equipment on the field were well camouflaged. Morgan knew she wouldn’t have seen them if she hadn’t known exactly what to look for.

Her curses stayed silent inside her, but didn’t lack for force. There was a lot of equipment down there, equipment that couldn’t be accounted for by the files that Haris’s snakes had maintained.

A shuttle dropped down so quietly that she knew it must be a full-stealth model. As it came to rest, a woman came out of a tent and hurried to meet it. Morgan zoomed in closer, identifying the woman’s suit as that of a sub-CEO. A sub-CEO implied this was a brigade-sized force . . .

The shuttle ramp dropped, and a man and woman came walking down it, the pair surrounded by several bodyguards. Morgan grimly focused on them, seeing what the presence of the bodyguards had already telegraphed.

A CEO, and another sub-CEO, both of their suits carrying the minor ornamentations that marked them as serving with ground forces.

That meant there could be an entire division of ground forces hidden here and in other training areas around the planet. A division that wasn’t in any of the snake files. Morgan respected the snakes too much to think that this could have been done under their noses, especially in this star system, where the snakes had insinuated themselves even more deeply into the ground forces than usual.

Haris hadn’t revolted. He hadn’t unilaterally declared himself Supreme CEO of this star system. It had all been theater, a trick to make it seem that Haris was no longer loyal to the Syndicate and could no longer be sure of Syndicate backing.

The show had to have a purpose, and this was it. They must have learned an attack force was coming from Midway, they had brought in this division only a few days beforehand, using shuttle drills as a cover for landing all of the soldiers and equipment, and the comm silencing period was designed to ensure no possible hint of the extra troops’ presence leaked out.

General Drakon must already be on the way. Must already be within a day or two of landing, expecting to encounter one understrength brigade of regular ground forces, not that brigade plus a division more. With the comm stand-down still in effect, trying to get a warning out would be a lot harder once she got to a transmitter, and just getting to a transmitter would take a while.

She felt a surge of fury, a desire to fling herself down the slope, to kill until she reached a transmitter. But she knew how likely that was to fail. If she died before she reached a means of sending a warning to General Drakon, then there would be no one to warn him at all.

And there was another mission that must be completed to ensure that Drakon survived. If she didn’t ensure that some critical control lines remained disabled in ways that weren’t apparent to the snakes, General Drakon would not survive the victory that he might still be able to achieve despite the dramatic change in odds.

Morgan gritted her teeth, calmed herself with an effort of will that left her gasping, then began slowly, methodically sneaking back out of the sensor field.

—

LIFE
on the crowded freighters was so unpleasant that Drakon found himself looking forward to combat as an alternative to staying in the cramped accommodations, breathing air fragrant with the smells of too many men and women who hadn’t bathed in too long. Right now he was crammed into his grandly named stateroom, which in any surface dwelling would have been classified as a closet, along with Colonel Conner Gaiene. “What did you need to talk about?”

Gaiene made a face. “I’ve been thinking.”

“Seriously?” Drakon asked.

Gaiene’s expression shifted into a grin. “I still do that on occasion. Not every brain cell is dead, yet, and I have done this sort of thing a few times.” The smile faded, replaced by that haunted look from eyes that had seen too much on too many battlefields. “The plan calls for using the warships to conduct a preliminary bombardment.”

“Right,” Drakon said. “The cruisers don’t carry nearly as many bombardment projectiles as battleships or battle cruisers do, but they have enough to cause some real damage to one big target.”

“So I see. We’re going to turn snake headquarters on Ulindi into a big crater made up of a lot of little craters. But the snakes will have an alternate command post.”

“Of course they will,” Drakon agreed.

“How do we keep them from setting off the buried nukes? We are assuming that the snakes have buried nukes under the cities and big towns of this planet, aren’t we?”

“Yes, we’re assuming that,” Drakon said. “Colonel Morgan will make sure the alternate command post can’t send the detonation orders.”

Gaiene bent a skeptical look on Drakon. “How is she going to do that all by herself? It would be a tough job for a company of special forces troops.”

“You know Morgan.”

“I certainly do,” Gaiene said in a tone of voice that held great depths of meaning. “Though never in any physical sense, I assure you.”

“Then you know that you don’t ask her how and you don’t tell her how,” Drakon said. “You just tell her what you want done and pull the trigger.”

“As smart weapons go, she is in a class by herself,” Gaiene admitted. “But . . .”

“But, what? If you’ve got concerns, I want to hear them, Conner.”

“There was that prolonged comm silence.”

Drakon nodded, his expression grim. “The timing was suspicious, but it started well before we got here, and it ended yesterday. Now, of course, there’s a lot of talk about our being here, but that’s to be expected.”

“We didn’t catch any unguarded comms from before we arrived,” Gaiene pointed out. “Those usually provide important information.”

“I agree. And Colonel Kai has raised the same concern. Do you believe that period of comm silence justifies calling off the assault?” He waited for the answer, knowing that Gaiene would tell him whatever Gaiene believed and not what he thought Drakon might want to hear.

Gaiene paused for a long moment, his eyes averted, the pose almost that of a man listening to something he couldn’t quite make out. “No. Based on what we know, I believe that we should go ahead with the assault.”

“Is something else bothering you?”

Another pause, that same attitude of almost-listening, then Gaiene shrugged. “I don’t know, General. Just a feeling. Have I ever thanked you? For overlooking my failings in the last few years?”

“You’ve earned your keep, Conner,” Drakon said, eyeing Gaiene. He knew Gaiene could get moody at times, especially the last few years, but this felt different. “You’re sure there’s nothing specific bothering you?”

Gaiene smiled. “Just a feeling,” he repeated. “I’ve been running away from the past for a long time. I . . . almost feel that it will catch up to me here.” He laughed. “I’m sure Lara hasn’t been happy with me.”

Drakon didn’t know what to say for a moment. “You haven’t said Lara’s name for a long time.”

“She’s been far away. She’s closer now.” Gaiene looked straight at Drakon, his eyes dark. “Thank you, General.”

“Can you lead your troops into this fight?” Drakon asked. Gaiene had acted fey before, but not like this.

“Yes, sir. All the way. Not a problem.” Gaiene smiled once more and suddenly seemed his usual self again. “I feel better than I have in a long time. Is drop time still in fourteen hours?”

“Yes. The Kommodor will let me know when we’re exactly two hours out. I’ll pass word to you and Kai then, so you can get your troops prepared for the assault. The shuttle pilots have already gone over their birds and can be ready to go in half an hour after I alert them. The bombardment will go out twenty minutes before we launch the first wave.”

Gaiene looked at one bulkhead, his eyes obviously not seeing the bare metal but something from the past, his expression wistful and distressed in equal measure. “Do you remember how many times we’ve watched assault forces coming? Sitting there on the surface, you and me and the rest of us, seeing any friendly mobile forces around trying to fight off the attackers, watching the enemy assault transports get closer and closer as each day, then each hour goes by? Watching the bombardment launch and bracing ourselves for the impacts as the ground shook and shook and men and women died? And then the shuttles coming down through our defensive fire, dropping off loads of Alliance ground forces or maybe Alliance Marines, and the fights that took forever and no time at all and never seemed to stop. Or all the times we were the ones dropping into the fight, knowing that if we failed in the assault, no one might be able to get us out of there again. How many friends have we watched die, you and I?”

“I stopped thinking about that a long time ago,” Drakon said, his voice soft.

“You only pretended to stop thinking about it,” Gaiene corrected him.

“Yeah, I guess that’s true. Conner, it’s different now. We’re not fighting for the Syndicate, we’ll take as many prisoners as are willing to surrender, and when this is over, we’ll go back to Midway and only fight to defend ourselves or to help others who need our assistance.”

Gaiene nodded. “It’s different. Yes. We know that. But the weapons we fire don’t know that, General. All they know is how to kill, and they don’t care why the triggers are pulled or what the target is.” He saluted before leaving.