“I am, General. At this moment, you have a very important task facing you. If you are going to let Morgan live, then you need me to protect you from her.”
“You’re no match for Morgan. You couldn’t stop her if she tried to kill me.”
Malin made a self-deprecating gesture. “Not if it was a direct attack, no. But she won’t do that, General. She is intensely loyal to you even though that loyalty is warped. Morgan won’t try to physically harm you, but that doesn’t mean she won’t do other things. I can monitor her, watch for schemes, plots, and unauthorized activities. I can identify anyone who contacts her, no matter the means.”
Drakon considered the alternatives, then nodded. Until he knew more about what Morgan was up to, there was no one better suited for discovering her secrets than Malin. “Do not make me sorry for giving you another chance,” Drakon said, his own words as cold as Malin’s eyes. “There will not be any more chances after this.”
“I understand, sir. Thank you for the opportunity to prove my continued loyalty to you.” Malin saluted, then left.
Drakon sat watching the sealed door after Malin had departed, wondering if he had just made a deal with one devil in order to frustrate the plans of another. But Malin had been invaluable in the past and, aside from the secret regarding his real mother, had never shown any signs of disloyalty or unreliability. In all ways, Malin had always appeared to be bedrock stable and unflappable, which, given that his mother was Roh Morgan, was an impressive achievement.
He called Iceni. “I recommend that we tell Boyens to prove his good faith by telling us everything he knows about the next Syndicate attack. When it will get here, what forces it will consist of, who will be in command, and anything else that can help us prepare to defeat it.”
Iceni nodded, her eyes hooded. “I agree. I will inform Boyens that he must provide that information right now, before any negotiations begin, to ensure his own safety. Kommodor Marphissa has detached Falcon to ‘escort’ the courier ship carrying Boyens to this planet. If Boyens betrays us again, or tries to flee, even a courier ship won’t be able to outrun a light cruiser quickly enough to avoid being destroyed.”
“Boyens will know that,” Drakon said.
“I have had the transmissions from CEO Boyens during his last visit to this star system analyzed,” Iceni added. An image popped up next to her own, showing Boyens on the bridge of a Syndicate battleship. The image zoomed in on a woman standing a few feet behind Boyens. “She can be seen in the same place relative to Boyens in every transmission. Do you recognize her?”
Drakon studied the broad, cheerful face of the woman, trying to remember if he had ever seen her. A chill ran down his back as her possible identity came to him. “Happy Hua? Is that her?”
“Have you met her?”
“No. I’ve just heard about her.” Drakon gazed at the woman again. “Or rather, I was warned about her. Before her reputation became known, she fooled an awful lot of victims with that façade of hers.”
“Hua is a CEO in the Internal Security Service, now,” Iceni said. “She has climbed high on the ladder formed by the bodies of the victims who mistakenly thought her external appearance was a reflection of internal goodwill. If that is the minder that Boyens had at his back, then I am inclined to believe that his words and actions were seriously constrained.”
“We don’t know how much, though,” Drakon argued. “Boyens may have wanted to do some of the same things that Hua was insisting upon. And, for all we know, he didn’t really escape to come here but was sent as a double agent.”
“General Drakon, I have no intention of trusting the man.” Iceni leveled a stern look at him. “I sometimes wonder if any man can be counted upon.”
He suppressed the surge of anger those words created because he knew it was a guilty reaction. “I didn’t try to hide anything from you, Madam President. Can you say the same?”
She laughed. “Oh, General, you will never know how many things I have kept hidden from you.”
Her image disappeared, leaving Drakon gazing at nothing.
—
EVEN a courier ship boosting in-system at point two light speed required twenty hours to cover the billions of kilometers between the hypernet gate and the world where Iceni and Drakon waited. But at least it covered the distance fairly rapidly, constantly shrinking the time required for a message to travel between the ship and the planet at the speed of light.
Boyens did not look as confident in this message as he had in the last. “I’ll tell you what I know about the impending Syndicate attack, just to show my good faith,” he said, as if Iceni had not demanded the information of him. “I estimate you have about a week before it gets here. They could be delayed past that, but I don’t think they can possibly arrive in less than five days at the earliest. The flotilla is supposed to once again include a battleship, as well as two heavy cruisers, six light cruisers, and ten Hunter-Killers.”
He hesitated. “Here are the important parts. I am certain that command of the flotilla will be given to CEO Hua Boucher. If you don’t know the name, she’s a snake, and a particularly deadly one. I have no idea how good a mobile forces commander she is. From what I saw, she has no real experience at it, but she will be ruthless. Except in one way. I know the Syndicate government won’t permit her to bombard Midway. They need everything here, all of the facilities, intact. But that won’t stop Hua Boucher from killing by any other means at her disposal if she gets the chance.
“That’s all I know. But I gave it to you freely! And there are other things, information that you need to have. If we work together, if you are willing to deal, you can have what you need, and I can get what I want. Boyens, out.”
A snake in command. Iceni rubbed her eyes as she thought, then called Togo. “What do you know about CEO Hua Boucher?”
Togo’s expression did not change, but thoughts could be seen moving behind his eyes. “She is Internal Security Service. Very dangerous, Madam President. I met CEO Boucher when she was an executive.”
“Oh?”
“My training unit was interrogated regarding some shortfalls in food supplies at the unit cafeteria. I was the only member not arrested.”
Iceni raised an appreciative eyebrow. “The others were taken in by Hua’s happy appearance?”
“As if she were friendly, sympathetic, yes, Madam President,” Togo said.
“How did you know better? You must have been pretty young and inexperienced at that point.”
Togo paused, and for one of the few times in Iceni’s experience, he gave the appearance of being upset. “I was emboldened by her pleasant appearance, so I stole a look into her eyes.”
Iceni leaned forward, intrigued. “What did you see there?”
“Nothing, Madam President.” Togo gazed steadily back at her, now betraying no emotion, his words flat. “There was nothing in her eyes. It was as if I were gazing into a patch of space devoid of stars; no light, no life, nothing but cold and emptiness.”
“I see.” Iceni sat back, eyeing Togo. “What are her vulnerabilities?”
“She . . . is very confident in herself. I remember that. It did not bother her that I had looked directly in the eyes of a supervisor.”
“Can you tell me anything else about her?”
Togo made a throwing-away gesture with one hand. “She will show no mercy at all to you and honor no agreement.”
Iceni smiled. “I assumed both of those were true. Thank you.”
Despite the dismissal, Togo paused. “Madam President, I have heard rumors concerning General Drakon’s staff.”
“Yes,” Iceni said, still smiling. “You missed some very important information about Colonel Morgan.”
Togo hesitated, thrown off by that announcement. “I have been told that Morgan is under arrest.”
“Not technically correct. She remains off-limits. Do you understand?”
“She is a threat,” Togo said. Did she only imagine a tinge of weariness in his voic
e as he repeated that warning for perhaps the twentieth time? “Eliminating her would remove a serious danger to you and send a powerful message.”
“It would send the wrong message.” Iceni waved one flattened hand in a cutting motion to signify the subject was closed. “Have you learned anything else about whoever is trying to stir up trouble among the citizens of this star system?”
“No, Madam President. But I will find them.”
She waved again, this time in clear dismissal, and Togo left.
Iceni sighed, wishing again that her problems could be solved by simply having Morgan killed. But she had seen too many CEOs fall because they had thought they could kill their way out of any difficulty. It was a simple solution that rarely solved the problem, instead usually generating new enemies faster than they could be killed.
She faced a bigger and more urgent problem at the moment, anyway.
Iceni called up a display above her desk, one centered on the star Midway. Planets and numerous other objects whirled slowly about the star. Bright symbols indicated the warships she had to defend everything here. Four heavy cruisers, six light cruisers, twelve Hunter-Killers. A dangerous force in areas where Syndicate authority had collapsed or was tottering, but not adequate to defend against the battleship that CEO Boucher would be bringing. Iceni didn’t trust Boyens, but she had no doubt he was telling the truth about that.
In order to defend this star system, Iceni needed her own battleship, but newly constructed Midway still had a lot of work that needed to be done before she could engage in combat. The battle cruiser recently acquired from Ulindi was much closer to being ready to fight, once the damage inflicted on the renamed Pele when it was captured from so-called Supreme CEO Haris’s forces was repaired. Pele might be ready before CEO Hua Boucher arrived here. But what could a single battle cruiser do to stop a battleship?
I have no idea how to do that. But I know someone who can do it if anyone can.
This only involved mobile forces, so it wasn’t a matter that required consultations with Drakon even if she wasn’t still more than annoyed at him. Iceni checked her appearance, sat up straight, composed her expression with the ease of long practice in looking like she was in charge and able to handle anything that came at her, then tapped the control to send a message. “Kommodor Marphissa, there is another Syndicate flotilla en route here, one equivalent in strength to the previous attack. I have been told that it could arrive as soon as five days from now, but you should assume it could show up in only four days. We have strong reason to believe the flotilla will be commanded by a snake CEO named Hua Boucher who lacks experience in commanding mobile forces but is certain to be intensely loyal to the Syndicate. She may be overconfident, she will not care about losses among her workers, but it is likely she will have orders to minimize damage to her warships while trying to retake this star system. She will also have orders not to bombard this star system.
“You have proven your skill at command. I give you no specific orders beyond what you know, that you must defend this star system. We must prevent the Syndicate warships from succeeding in their mission and do so while protecting the people of this star system to the maximum extent possible. I trust in your skill and your judgment to deal with this threat as effectively as you have done in the past.”
This was the point at which traditional Syndicate communications would add some motivational threats about the consequences of failure. But Iceni had already dispensed with another time-honored Syndicate practice (detailed orders spelling out exactly what Marphissa should do, since micromanagement was as much a part of the Syndicate way of doing things as paranoia, corruption, and backstabbing) and had found that she got much better results.
“There are a few other matters,” Iceni continued. “I will be sending orders to Kapitan Kontos to assume command of Pele and make every effort to make her ready to fight within the next few days. I am sending Falcon back to you along with Captain Bradamont. Place Captain Bradamont wherever you want to make use of her abilities, but you are to remain aboard Manticore as your flagship. I don’t want you and Kontos both on Pele because I can’t afford to lose both of you if the worst happens.
“Good luck, Kommodor.
“For the people, Iceni, out.”
Iceni sighed, then sent a message to Kapitan Kontos, conveying her orders for him to leave command of the Midway and move to the Pele. She grimaced before sending a third message, to Kapitan Freya Mercia, ordering her to take command of the battleship Midway in place of Kontos. That left only the need to copy Drakon on her last three messages, then inform him that Captain Bradamont needed to be lifted up to Falcon as soon as possible.
And that was pretty much all she would be able to do to prepare the defense of Midway against the latest Syndicate attack. No one in their right mind tried to dictate the details of time-critical activity across four light-hours’ distance, though Iceni had known (and a few times had to work for) people who thought such a thing could work. Everything else would now be up to Marphissa, Kontos, the workers trying to get Pele ready for battle, and Captain Bradamont. Twice before, Admiral Geary’s Alliance fleet had saved Midway Star System, an odd thing given the only recently concluded and century-long war that had nurtured generations of hatred between the Syndicate Worlds and the Alliance. But Midway was no longer Syndicate, Black Jack Geary was no average officer of the Alliance, and now perhaps Captain Bradamont, left here by Black Jack as an adviser and liaison officer, could help Midway’s warships save this star system a third time.
Iceni gazed morosely at her calendar, knowing that the next few days would pass very slowly as everyone waited for the axe to fall.
At least the prospect of interrogating CEO Jason Boyens offered the promise of some distraction during that time.
DRAKON met Colonel Rogero as he reentered the ground forces headquarters complex. “Did you see off Captain Bradamont?”
Rogero nodded, looking unhappy as he did so. “It would be easier for me to be going off to face a tough fight than to see her doing it.”
“You know the same is true for her if she had to watch you go. I’ve just informed Colonels Gaiene and Kai of something, and I need to tell you in person as well.” Drakon did his best to keep his voice level. “Effective immediately, neither you nor anyone else is to follow orders from Colonel Morgan, even if she says those orders are coming from me.”
To his credit, Rogero managed not to show any reaction to the statement. “I understand, General. May I ask why—”
“No. Colonel Morgan is going on special detached duty, so you won’t be seeing her. But if she does contact you, follow the orders I just gave you.”
Rogero nodded. “Yes, sir. Given the . . . change in policy contained in your orders, may I ask if the status of Colonel Malin has changed in any way?”
Drakon took a few seconds to think that through before answering. For the last few years, Morgan and Malin had been his right and left hands. Losing one hand was bad enough, and too difficult to explain at this time. Cutting off the other might well hurt him more than it did any hypothetical plots that Malin might be working on. “No. Except in one respect. If Colonel Malin conveys orders to you that he says are from me, follow your instincts. If anything about those orders smells wrong to you, check with me directly before you carry them out.”
“Understood, General.”
“Good,” Drakon said, knowing just how many questions were boiling under Rogero’s impassive surface. But he wasn’t ready to answer any of those questions yet, so he shifted topics to another issue of concern. “How is your brigade doing?” He had asked that question many times before, so Rogero would know that Drakon was asking not about readiness statistics but about the mental and emotional state of his soldiers.
“No significant problems,” Rogero replied. “But when I talked to my senior specialists this morning, they said they are noticing an increase in the number of odd rumors making the rounds that they believe are being fed to our gro
und forces.”
“Odd rumors?” Drakon pressed. “Anything new?”
“Just in the specifics.” Rogero frowned outward toward the rest of the city as he thought. “They fall into three broad categories. One set argues that you and President Iceni are only doing what you are in order to stay in control of this star system, that you remain Syndicate CEOs in all but name. That one isn’t gaining much traction since our men and women know you by your actions and know that President Iceni has banned labor camps. The second set of rumors is that you and the president intend betraying this star system and the people in it by using it as a base to establish your own Syndicate successor empire. I’ll be frank in saying that the soldiers are worrying about that more than I’m comfortable with. And the third set of rumors are variations on claims that President Iceni is planning on assassinating you and wiping out your ground forces to ensure her own place as ruler of this star system.”
Drakon laughed sharply. “How is Iceni supposed to accomplish that? With planetary militia?”
“No, sir. That’s one of the devious things about that set of rumors. It claims that some of our own ground forces, whole units or just officers, will betray the rest and help Iceni.” Rogero twisted his lips in a crooked grin. “So the rumors foster distrust of President Iceni and of their fellow soldiers.”
“Clever,” Drakon admitted. “I don’t believe for a moment that President Iceni is plotting that, but it’s a well-crafted set of rumors to generate fear and suspicion.”
Rogero inhaled deeply, blew out again, then fixed a keen look on Drakon. “You are certain the president will not try to kill you? There have been some attempts on you and on me.”
“I know.” It was Drakon’s turn to smile without humor. “But if President Iceni were really the one plotting to kill me, we wouldn’t hear any rumors of it. I’d just be dead whenever she gave the order. She’s that good. Besides, I know I can trust you and that you’d spot any real plotting by some of the soldiers in your brigade.”
The Lost Stars: Imperfect Sword Page 2