The Lost Stars: Imperfect Sword (7 page)

Marphissa was gazing at where her display had been. Now, nothing but the blank, armored forward bulkhead of the bridge could be seen. The entire compartment felt strangely smaller with the equipment offline and life support not offering the constant, reassuring background noise of fans and ducts and circulating fluids. The bridge was buried deep in the ship, as safe as possible from enemy fire or other threats, which normally brought a sense of reassurance. At the moment, it was creating a feeling of literally being buried.

Senior Watch Specialist Czilla propped open a device pulled out of the emergency locker near his station. It lit, showing a series of readings. “We are still all right for oxygen and CO
2
concentration, Kommodor. Estimated time to dangerous reduction in O
2
and dangerous density of CO
2
is twenty-five minutes.”

“We’ll hold off sealing our survival suits to conserve their life support for when we need it,” Marphissa said. “Damn! What is going on outside?”

“We’re still moving,” Diaz said. “We’ve stopped accelerating, but the Syndicate flotilla is still in a long stern chase. Those surviving Hunter-Killers with the battleship have been burning a lot of their fuel cells. Unless CEO Boucher provides new cells from the battleship’s stockpile, those Hunter-Killers will be in trouble before the Syndicate ships can catch us.”

“At the moment,” Marphissa grumbled in a very low voice, “I’m worried about our own people catching us. We had made it back up past point one five light speed when the power cut out, and now we’re racing outward at that velocity. If we get too far out before they can send someone to intercept us . . .”

“We could open some exterior fittings to vent atmosphere,” Diaz said. “Pivot the ship using that method, then figure out how to light off main propulsion without power—”

“That’s impossible. It would just blow up if the regulators didn’t have power.” Marphissa breathed a sigh of relief as the displays flickered to life again. “Progress. Maybe there is still hope.” She peered at the display, which continued to waver in intensity from bright to dim. “There’s nothing on it except a static view of what was last known. This is useless.”

“Kapitan?” someone called.

Diaz hit his comm controls. “Yes! Senior Specialist Sasaki?”

“Yes, Kapitan. The power core did an emergency shutdown. We’re not sure why, so we’ve isolated it and will do a restart.”

“I need comms and sensors back online fast!”

“I understand and will comply, Kapitan. Two minutes.”

But two minutes, then four minutes, then ten went past. Diaz’s attempts to call engineering again failed as the comm circuit went dead once more.

The engineering watch specialist dashed back onto the bridge, gasping for breath. “Kapitan, the power core—”

“I know,” Diaz growled.

“They are rewiring again, Kapitan. They found that just doing a restart would probably trigger another threatened overload and shutdown, so they’ve been pulling things out and redoing them.”

“Why did I lose comms with engineering?” Diaz demanded.

The woman looked off to one side, groping for words. “They . . . needed a certain black box . . . Junction Model 74A5F Mod 12 . . . and the only one available was in the internal comms, so . . .”

“My ship is being torn apart from the inside out,” Diaz said. “Those senior specialists are doing as much damage to my ship as the Syndicate did!”

Marphissa nodded. “If we survive,
Manticore
is going to need some extensive internal repairs. And we’ll have to reward those senior specialists who are tearing your ship apart because otherwise we’d already be dead.”

The displays vanished again, then reappeared before anyone could even curse their disappearance. “Kommodor, we have updated external information! External comm links and sensors are active again,” Senior Watch Specialist Czilla reported.

Marphissa had been able to deaden her worries a bit when she literally could not see anything about events outside of
Manticore
, but now they sprang to full life again as Marphissa bent close to study her display.

The Syndicate flotilla was still in pursuit, still slowly closing the gap to
Manticore
, but the battleship now was accompanied by only the single heavy cruiser and three surviving Hunter-Killers. Kontos and Seney must have hit CEO Boucher’s formation again. Both the
Pele
formation and the one now centered on
Kraken
were coming around for two more attacks.

“Look at that!” Diaz said in amazement. “
Midway
! The battleship, I mean.”

Marphissa tore her attention away from the nearest ships, trying to figure out what Diaz was talking about. Then she saw it. The battleship
Midway
, light-hours away, had come around, accelerating at full capacity on a route that would place her between the Syndicate formation and the hypernet gate. “What is Kapitan Mercia doing? She’s revealed for everyone to see that the
Midway
actually has full propulsion capability!”

Bradamont was staring, too, but suddenly gave out a burst of laughter. “She’s a genius!”

“A genius? Mercia just let the Syndicate flotilla know—”

“That’s why it’s genius,” Bradamont exulted, seeing the looks of incomprehension on the faces of both Diaz and Marphissa. “Don’t you see?
Midway
appeared to have severely damaged main propulsion. But now she has revealed that her main propulsion is fully functional.
Midway
also looks to have only a few weapons operational.”

Marphissa suddenly understood. “But now the Syndicate flotilla will think that is also a ruse? They will think maybe
Midway
is fully combat capable? And rushing to join the fight as soon as she saw an opening?”

“Yes! Rushing to block the retreat of the Syndicate formation so it can’t escape. It’s a deception inside a deception, using one deception to make outside observers believe that the real things they are seeing are also a deception.”

“What will CEO Boucher do?” Marphissa wondered.

A few minutes later, the answer became clear as the Syndicate flotilla veered down and thirty degrees to port. “They’re heading for the jump point for Kane,” Diaz said. “Why?
Midway
won’t be in position to block them from reaching the hypernet gate for nearly nine hours.”

“Boucher is panicking,” Marphissa said, hearing the satisfaction in her voice. “Nothing has gone right for her, she’s getting hit again and again, nearly all of her escorts have been destroyed, and now her battleship is threatened. She’s bolting along the nearest path to safety.”

Bradamont nodded. “I think you’re right. And it appears that CEO Boyens was accurate in saying that Boucher would have orders not to bombard this star system. Otherwise, she would probably be launching a vindictive bombardment right now. The Syndicate Worlds does want this star system back intact.”

“They won’t get it, intact or otherwise,” Marphissa vowed.

The life-support fans came back to life.

“Damn,” Diaz said, looking around as if he didn’t believe what he was seeing and hearing. “We won. And we’re still alive.”

“Yes,” Marphissa agreed. “Now get back down to engineering and make sure your senior specialists in their enthusiasm to conduct quick repairs don’t blow us up now that the battle is won.”

—

IT
had been nerve-wracking watching the battle play out, light-hours distant, unable to intervene and knowing that whatever she saw had long since happened. President Iceni poured out two drinks and offered one to General Drakon. They were alone in her office. “We should drink a toast to another victory over the Syndicate, General.”

“You have some disturbingly competent subordinates,” Drakon observed.

“My warship commanders are good, aren’t they?” Iceni asked, raising her glass in triumph. “We will live another day, General.”

“Does it worry you?” he asked, looking down at his own drink.

“Their competence? No. Both Marphissa and Kontos are very loyal to me.”

He made a sharp noise, halfway between a snort and a grunt. “Don’t assume that their loyalty will necessarily lead them to the actions you want them to do.”

“Point taken,” Iceni said. “But let’s not talk about
your
subordinates unless you want me to handle that situation.”

Drakon frowned at her. “Don’t touch Colonel Morgan. If anything is done to her, the child dies.”

“The child is a ways from being born yet,” Iceni pointed out. “And the child was only conceived because Morgan deceived you.”

“She’s still my daughter.” Drakon met Iceni’s eyes. “I’ve spent a lifetime at war, destroying things and killing people. In all my life, I’ve only had a part in creating one single thing. So, yes, the child matters to me.”

Iceni sighed again, loud enough for Drakon to hear her frustration. “I can understand your feelings, but do you want
that
daughter to be born? She will also be Colonel Morgan’s daughter. What would a child of
hers
be like?”

“I’ve thought about that,” Drakon said in a low voice.

“Have you? Are you thinking about your little girl bringing you crayon drawings of unicorns playing with children under rainbows to hang on your walls? Because if that little girl is anything like her mother, she is more likely to be using her crayons to draw images of wolves tearing apart helpless travelers during thunderstorms. Have you really thought about what a child of Colonel Morgan’s would be like? How could you know?”

He hesitated long enough for Gwen to worry, then shook his head and spoke as if bewildered. “I know what a child of hers would be like. I know her son.”

“Her
son
? Morgan has a son?” She was torn between incredulity at the news and anger that her aide Togo had not caught such an important fact when he had supposedly chased down all that could be known about Morgan. “Where is—?”

“He’s here,” Drakon interrupted. “Colonel Malin. He’s her son.”

Iceni only gradually realized that she had slumped backward, her mouth hanging open in shock.
That’s why Malin refused to kill Morgan for me? He’s—?
“But they’re almost the same age. How— That mission. When she was frozen in survival sleep.”

“For about twenty years,” Drakon said. “The baby, Malin, was removed from Morgan before the mission. Syndicate policy. Morgan never knew. She still doesn’t know.” The words came out quickly, followed by an abrupt silence as Drakon stared at Iceni.

You just figured out how powerful a weapon you blurted out to me?
Iceni thought.
If Morgan doesn’t know, and I threatened to tell her . . . hell hath no fury seems an apt description of what would happen next.
“How are you intending to handle that situation?”

He actually smiled, though the smile held no humor at all. “I’m torn between denial and just shooting both of them.”

“I favor the second option, followed by denial.”

“If anything happens to Morgan—” Drakon began.

“Yes, yes. She’s set up mechanisms to ensure that the child dies. And if we try to find the surrogate carrying the child, that alone might trigger the child’s death. Very clever, very devious, very ruthless.” Iceni rested her chin on one hand as she gazed at him. “Have you considered the possibility that she also has backups?”

“Backups?”

“Clones. Morgan could have cloned the embryo and had the clones implanted in multiple surrogates.”

Drakon considered that, frowning deeply. “Full human cloning is so heavily regulated, and forbidden under almost all circumstances, that she would have had to have found a doctor willing to risk the consequences.”

“The CEOs running the Syndicate have no desire for identical copies of themselves to exist,” Iceni said. “All of those old stories about identical twins taking over from the originals are regarded as cautionary tales for modern-day CEOs. But you know how Syndicate society works just as well as I do. If there is a product, and any demand at all, there will be suppliers. And because parts can legally be cloned to ensure a sufficient supply of spare human organs, the expertise already openly exists.”

“And Morgan could have found people who could handle full human cloning if anyone could.” Drakon sat straighter, meeting her eyes defiantly. “I want it understood that this is my situation to deal with.”

Iceni waved an aggravated gesture toward him. “As long as it does not threaten me, you can play whatever games you like. I may control the warships, but you control the ground forces. I insist, however, that Colonel Morgan never be seen or heard by me again. Do whatever you have to in order to control her and protect your precious offspring, but if I personally see Morgan again, I will order my bodyguards to act.”

He nodded heavily. “What about Colonel Malin?”

That forced her to pause and think.
Malin’s hatred for Morgan has never seemed feigned, but if he is truly Morgan’s son, that hate could either be real or faked for his advantage. But I can’t afford to have Malin’s access limited. Drakon apparently still doesn’t know that Malin has been feeding me inside information about him for some time. Not that Malin has ever given me anything negative about Drakon.
“I have no quarrel with Colonel Malin,” Iceni finally said. “If he had not identified Executive Ito as a snake agent and stopped her moments before she poisoned you, you would already be dead, and this star system would be coming down around my ears.”

Drakon nodded, took a drink, then focused back on her. “If we’re done talking about my subordinates, there’s another situation I want to discuss. We’ve just repelled another Syndicate attack, this one with a bloody nose. We’re going to have a little while to work with before the Syndicate can manage another attack.”

“What is it you want to work on?” Iceni asked.

“We have to deal with so-called Supreme CEO Haris at Ulindi. He’s already attacked us once. We pulled his teeth, but he could hit us again, or go for some other nearby star system like Taroa.”

Iceni shook her head slowly as she thought. “I imagine that CEO Haris, excuse me,
Supreme
CEO Haris, would wait for the Taroans to get much closer to finishing their battleship before he moved in to take it and their star system. The Taroans haven’t even got the hull exterior on their battleship finished yet. But Haris might hit someone else in the meantime, as you say. What does he have available to do that?”