Tarnished Knight

by Jack Campbell

  Malin tried not to look triumphant while Morgan suppressed a scowl. “But the option isn’t off the table?” she asked.

  “It doesn’t hurt to have someone in that position ready to act if necessary. The capability might be very important at some point.” The identity of that individual might also prove useful if Drakon ever had to sacrifice anyone to keep Iceni convinced he was working with her. “But I’ll make the decision on whether and when it’s necessary.”

  * * *

  HER stateroom on the heavy cruiser was far from spacious or luxurious. Iceni sat looking around its confines, remembering her own days as a junior executive, living in quarters much smaller and more Spartan than this. You’ve become spoiled, Gwen.

  Having ensured that the defenses and antisurveillance equipment built into her outfit were all working properly, Iceni called Sub-CEO Marphissa. “I need to see you.”

  Marphissa arrived with gratifying haste. “Yes, Madam President?”

  “Close the hatch and sit down.” Iceni waited, watching Marphissa intently, her equipment remotely analyzing the sub-CEO’s physiological status for signs of not just nervousness but also fear or outright deception. The tiny, portable equipment wasn’t nearly as effective as that inside an interrogation cell, but it provided helpful inputs to regular observations of someone. “Have you heard from General Drakon?”

  The signs of nervousness shot up, but no clear signs of deception registered as Marphissa answered. “Not since we left orbit.”

  “You heard from him before then?”

  “Not from him. Just expanded instructions from whoever is in contact with me. I already had a code phrase that would order me to kill you at the first good opportunity. The expanded instructions added a second phrase, which would order me to wait to kill you until we were outside the star system.”

  “I see.”

  “I take it,” Marphissa said cautiously, “that means our current trip toward the jump points means we will actually jump for another star.”

  Iceni made a noncommittal sound in reply. “But you haven’t received either code phrase?”

  “No.”

  Did Drakon want to kill her or not? Using Marphissa as a double agent had seemed a good way to establish Drakon’s intent, but perhaps he was just waiting for a better time. The addition of a code for killing Iceni outside the star system was particularly disturbing in light of one of Drakon’s arguments when she had spoken with him about this mission. At least the use of Marphissa ensured that Iceni would gain advance notice if an assassination was ordered while she was on a warship.

  Assuming that Marphissa, who had been told to respond to the feelers from someone very close to Drakon, and to pretend to be ready to assassinate Iceni, had not turned a third time and decided to actually try to follow orders to kill. Eliminating Iceni would leave a very large vacancy in a position vastly more senior than the one Marphissa now had and would leave Marphissa in control of the mobile forces that could give her the power to claim that position. This was a delicate business, a tricky business, a confusing business. She would hate to have to order Marphissa killed. The woman had proven to be a very capable subordinate. Having to deal with such issues gave Iceni headaches at times. “Notify me immediately if you hear from General Drakon’s contact again.”

  “Yes, Madam President.”

  “What about Colonel Rogero? Any problems?” Rogero would make an excellent backup for Drakon if Iceni’s assassination was ordered and Marphissa didn’t succeed. An experienced soldier, loyal to Drakon, with a squad of special forces at his back. And Drakon had the perfect blackmail to use against Rogero as well.

  “No problems,” Marphissa said. “He’s in one of the staterooms formerly used by the snakes, and he’s keeping to himself, but I’ve told my officers to monitor him and the ship’s systems keep me informed of his location. He’s been fairly stiff with me every time we’ve talked. I don’t think he likes mobile forces unit commanders.”

  Iceni managed not to look amused. The problem is that he likes one mobile forces unit commander far too much, and she’s an enemy mobile forces unit commander. Would you kill me, Colonel Rogero, if Drakon ordered it and threatened to tell everyone about that if you didn’t? “Keep a very close eye on Colonel Rogero.”

  “The ship’s systems will automatically alert you if Colonel Rogero comes within ten meters of you,” Marphissa said.

  “Excellent.” On something as small as a heavy cruiser that might produce too many false alarms, but if so she could have the alert parameters changed. “Then there’s one other thing.” Iceni smiled to lower the tension. “General Drakon has suggested that I look at changing the rank titles within the mobile forces. That would make clear our break with the failed Syndicate system.”

  Marphissa nodded. “No one has any love for the Syndicate command structure. We’re not working in business jobs. We’re mobile forces.”

  “Exactly. I did not want to use the same titles that Drakon has adopted for his ground forces. You’re not ground forces.”

  Marphissa nodded again, emphatically this time.

  “I looked for a rank structure from earlier times, but not one that was the same as the Alliance now uses,” Iceni said. “I believe we need to avoid that as well.”

  A third nod, very strong. “We are not a . . . minor subset of the Alliance.”

  “I agree. Someday . . . well, here.” Iceni brought up a file and pivoted the display floating above her desk so that Marphissa could see it. “This is a rank structure that was once used in part of the Syndicate Worlds before all forces were unified under a single corporate system.”

  Marphissa gazed at Iceni in disbelief. “The Syndicate Worlds once allowed local variations in how things were done?”

  “It is hard to believe, isn’t it? That was more than a hundred and fifty years ago. These were star systems that, back then, had been absorbed into the Syndicate Worlds recently enough that they still retained some individuality.” “Absorbed” was a nice way to describe what had actually been a conquest without combat of a small group of star systems next to both Syndicate and Alliance space that had foolishly tried to stand apart from both powers. Neutrals had been low-hanging fruit in those days, and the Alliance had been eager to avoid outright fighting. If the idiots running the Syndicate Worlds hadn’t attacked the Alliance they might have been able, over time, to similarly acquire control of minor coalitions like the Rift Federation and the Callas Republic. Instead, both had ended up associating actively with the Alliance during the war. What will happen to their supposed independence now? Iceni wondered. Will the Alliance formally take them over? Surely, they wouldn’t just let them go back to acting on their own. I should ask Black Jack about that when his fleet returns. He must be the one making that decision.

  Iceni raised her forefinger to point to parts of the display. “As flotilla commander, you will be Kommodor Marphissa. Depending on their seniority, their sub-CEO or executive rank, individual warship commanders will be Kapitan First, Second, or Third rank, and below that the lower executives and subexecutives will be Kapitan-Leytenant, then Leytenant, and Leytenant Second rank, and, finally, the most junior will be Ships Officers.”

  “I think this change will be welcomed,” Marphissa said. “It’s good that it’s not the same as that of the Alliance and is also different from the structure put into place by General Drakon. The mobile forces, I mean the warships, will like being distinct in that way.”

  “Is any part of the new rank structure unclear?” Iceni asked.

  “Is there no rank above Kommodor?”

  Iceni laughed. “You’re already worried about that? Atmiral.”

  “Atmiral,” Marphissa murmured, as if trying on the title.

  “We need a few more warships before there will be any call for an Atmiral, Kommodor Marphissa.”

 
* * *

  THEY were thirty light-minutes from the jump point for Kane. Iceni, seated on the bridge of the heavy cruiser, turned to Marphissa. “Kommodor, take the flotilla to the jump point for Kane and order all units to be prepared for action upon exit at Kane.”

  “Kane?” Marphissa asked, plainly having expected Taroa. “Is there an estimate of what we may face there?”

  “I will brief you when we have entered jump.”

  That left five hours at point one light speed. Iceni stayed on the bridge, watching her display where the warships, moving at about thirty thousand kilometers a second, crawled across the vast distances inside a star system. At the same velocity, a journey to the nearest star, Laka, would require nearly twenty-five years.

  The old and proven jump technology would allow the flotilla to reach Kane in about six days, though, taking a shortcut through a still-poorly-understood dimension in which distances were much shorter.

  As they finally approached the jump point, Marphissa looked at Iceni. “Permission to proceed with jump to Kane?”

  “Permission granted. All units are to be at combat readiness status one when we exit at Kane.”

  “Yes, Madam President.” Marphissa passed along those orders to the other warships with them, then ordered the jump.

  Iceni felt the odd twisting as the endless bright stars against an eternity of black space vanished. In their place, the outside views now showed the monotonous, dull nothingness of jump space. Though human ships had been transiting jump space for centuries, it had never been explored because there was no known way to explore it. Ships could not deviate from their paths between the small areas in space called jump points where jump space could be accessed from normal space. Human sensors could detect nothing except the gray void.

  And the lights. As Iceni watched, one of the mysterious lights of jump space bloomed ahead. No one had ever learned what those lights were, what caused them, or what they meant, if anything. There were rumors and superstitions, of course. When Iceni was in normal space or on a planet, she inwardly mocked those who thought the lights were signs of some powerful otherness watching humanity. But when in jump space, a region where no human really belonged, Iceni always felt a chill inside when she saw one, as if she were gazing on something whose face could not be comprehended by the human mind. At such times her father’s old stories of the living stars seemed to have extra force.

  There was also no way to send messages between warships, or any means of communication with the regular universe. Secrets could not be compromised. “Kommodor, it is time to discuss our mission.”

  To her credit, the new kommodor took the news without flinching. “A battleship?”

  “Yes.”

  Marphissa made an uncertain gesture. “This should be . . . interesting.”

  “Yes,” Iceni repeated, hoping that it wouldn’t be too interesting.

  Six days later, the heavy cruiser at full combat alert and Marphissa looking fiercely determined, the flotilla prepared to exit at Kane. “If the battleship is combat ready and anywhere near that jump point,” she commented to Iceni, “then the result will be a short battle indeed.”

  “Are you ready to find out, Kommodor?” Iceni asked, trying to look and sound completely confident.

  “Yes, Madam President.”

  The gray nothingness of jump space was replaced by stars and blackness, Iceni struggling to overcome the effects of exiting jump so she could focus eyes and mind on her display and learn what awaited them at Kane.

  CHAPTER NINE

  ALARMS sounded on the cruiser, targeting systems that hadn’t been impacted by the transition from jump space locking on to the large ship near the jump exit but waiting for human approval before they fired. Using tricks she had learned long ago, Iceni managed to fight off the disorientation caused by jump exit and grimly focused on her display.

  There was something big there, all right.

  Nervous laughter erupted on the bridge as everyone else recovered enough to view their own displays.

  “A freighter,” Marphissa said. The huge, boxy merchant ship loomed within less than a light-minute of the jump point, clearly headed outward with its cargo. The Syndicate Worlds might be collapsing, violence and economic uncertainty might be breaking out everywhere, but business was still business. “Should we intercept it?”

  “No,” Iceni replied. “We need trade to continue in this region. We need to encourage people to trade with us. Wish the freighter’s crew well and assure them that Midway remains safe for everyone who wishes to do business there.”

  While Marphissa did that, Iceni studied her display. They had arrived at a jump point only five light-hours out from the star Kane, whose solar system was smaller in diameter than that of Midway’s. The nearest planet to the flotilla was only twenty light-minutes away, far enough from the star’s warmth to be very cold indeed. Closer in to the star were two gas giants, one at three light-hours from the star and another one and a half light-hours out. Beyond them, close enough to Kane to benefit from the heat of the star, were three inner planets, one a bit too cold for comfortable human habitation, one a bit too hot, and the third, at only seven light-minutes from Kane, just right in human terms. It was that planet that held the bulk of the human presence in the star system, in towns and cities clinging to the edges of continents that remained mostly unsettled.

  But it was that gas giant one and a half light-hours from the star that held Iceni’s attention. She could see the mobile forces facility orbiting that gas giant and see one of the large moons that also orbited the planet, but there was no sign of the battleship. Either it truly was hidden behind the curve of the planet, or her information had been false and the mission a fool’s errand.

  It would be nearly five hours before the people on Kane’s main inhabited world saw the arrival of the flotilla, but Iceni knew she should send them a message to arrive at about the same time as the light showing the arrival of the warships. What the message should be had depended on what she found when they arrived here.

  “No fighting apparent anywhere in the star system,” Kommodor Marphissa commented. “Only peaceful communications and movement detected.” She pointed. “But we do have opposition to worry about.”

  About four light-hours from the flotilla, orbiting Kane close to where the gas giant swung about the same star, were several warships. “One heavy cruiser, three light cruisers, and six Hunter-Killers,” the operations specialist confirmed with unusual speed. Since Iceni had ordered their line worker ratings changed to specialist designations, the morale of the crew had shot upward remarkably.

  Iceni rubbed her chin, trying to read significance in the positioning of those forces. “Can we tell if the Syndicate Worlds still controls this star system, or has someone else taken over?” Midway, with its hypernet gate and strategic importance, had also gained a more substantial ISS presence than less important star systems had to deal with. Some, like Kane, which had a decent world for humanity but nothing otherwise special to distinguish them, were backwaters that since the discovery of the hypernet had seen little interest from the Syndicate Worlds. While that had kept Kane from receiving much investment, it had also kept the numbers of snakes and their facilities to much lower levels. Until recently, if Kane had bucked Syndicate authority, it would have been only a matter of time before the central government sent mobile forces in either to accept unconditional subservience or pound the planet into surrender, a much more cost-efficient solution than stationing a large ISS presence in the star system.

  But who did the mobile forces here now answer to? Are they still enforcing Syndicate rule? Not knowing that made it hard for Iceni to decide who to present herself as.

  “All of the communications we’re seeing reflect Syndicate Worlds’ procedures and use their nomenclature,” the communications specialist said.

  “Whi
ch might just mean they haven’t changed anything yet,” Iceni muttered. I have to go with my gut on this, and my instincts tell me that so far the Syndicate Worlds is still running things here. Maybe the authorities in Kane are just paying lip service to the Syndicate Worlds, but I don’t think that they’ve formally abandoned Syndicate rule.

  She tabbed her own communication controls, placing a real-appearing avatar of a woman who didn’t look like her to appear as the sender when the message went out. “This is CEO Janusa, operating on orders from the Syndicate Worlds’ government on Prime. We have just arrived from Midway, having reestablished Syndicate control in that star system, and will proceed to your mobile forces facility for resupply and refitting. For the people, Janusa, out.”

  Kommodor Marphissa gave her a slight smile. “I suppose if you want someone to impersonate a Syndicate CEO, using a real CEO is the way to go.”

  “Former CEO,” Iceni corrected, but smiled back. “There is a certain attitude, a way of talking, that becomes habit. They won’t have any files on a CEO Janusa here, but Kane doesn’t get all that much traffic from elsewhere in Syndicate space, so their news was always far behind developments elsewhere. If they ask who I am, I’ll tell them that I was recently promoted by the new government on Prime.”

  “Do you believe they will let us proceed to their mobile forces facility?”

  “If they do without any objection, it may well mean that our intelligence was faulty or that the battleship has already left. But if they object and attempt to delay our going there, it will be a strong sign that our prey is indeed present. We won’t wait for their reply, Kommodor. Order the flotilla on a vector to intercept the mobile forces facility.”

  “At what velocity . . . CEO Janusa?”

  Iceni only pondered that for a moment. “Point one light speed. I am a brash, new CEO. I have no time to waste plodding through an unimportant star system. I have important business elsewhere, and I want everyone watching to know that I am important and have important business to conduct.”