The Lost Stars: Imperfect Sword

by Jack Campbell

  “How the hell are we supposed to get anything done during those seventy-two hours?”

  “Does this mean I’ll have to talk to the people at the desks near me? I hope not.”

  “They’re probably hoping the same thing.”

  “Seriously, this isn’t some investigation? It’s just a complete comm-system check?”

  “That’s the official word. They wanted a period of time when everything was quiet before they ran the check, so this means they’re not expecting any trouble during those seventy-two hours.”

  “They better get all of those shuttle drills done by then.”

  “Those still going on?”

  “Yeah. Every shuttle is out at dispersed landing locations doing recertification drills. They got them going up into low orbit and down again all night long.”

  “Maybe they’re running them that hard to get the drills done before the comm stand-down.”

  “Yeah.”

  Another pause, then a voice pitched lower than before. “My boss said to be ready for some deployments.”

  “Deployments? Where? I thought CEO— I mean, the Supreme CEO only controlled this star system.”

  “For now.”

  “Could that be what the shuttle drills are about? Getting ready for combat drops?”

  “Guys, shut the hell up. If it is, we shouldn’t be talking.”

  “Yeah, especially now, what with . . .”

  Another pause.

  “It’s always been bad, but—”

  “Shut up.”

  “You must have heard about Jarulzki—”

  “Shut up!”

  Silence fell, a quiet that Morgan knew would last this time. She wondered what, if anything, the unfortunate Jarulzki had done. If the high rate of arrests among the citizens was any indicator, the snakes would also have been raking in for questioning higher than usual numbers of military personnel.

  But the talk of a sealed-off training area was something new. And an upcoming comm moratorium. And intense shuttle training. Was Haris getting ready to launch an attack on another star system, or was this entirely related to internal security at Ulindi?

  There was only one way to find out.

  Given the time since she had left Midway, and the time required to assemble an assault force, Morgan guessed that General Drakon and his forces should arrive in Ulindi within the next few days. That left time to check on this information and ensure that it wasn’t anything the general would need to worry about during his conquest of Ulindi.

  As Morgan made her way back out of the base, she spent some time considering who Drakon would be bringing. The entire division? Maybe. That would give her a chance to check on what Rogero was up to. Why Drakon had kept him and Gaiene in their command positions baffled her. Gaiene was bad enough, half-drunk half the time, but at least (unlike Rogero) his sleeping partners were harmless. Rogero, though, with his Alliance girlfriend, was another matter. He had also shown far too much interest in working closely with that Iceni woman. Was Rogero selling out to the Alliance, or to Iceni, or playing both to see who coughed up the best deal?

  And Malin. That little slime would be up to something, too. Maybe here at Ulindi, his luck would finally run out. If there was only some way to nail him herself in such a manner that the general couldn’t possibly trace it back to her. But she had far too much respect for Drakon to assume he would not be able to track an assassination of Malin to its source.

  Well, Haris’s forces might do the job for her.

  The only thing she couldn’t understand, given the loathing she had felt for Malin since first meeting him, was why the thought of him dead caused any kind of mixed emotions in her.

  —

  MARPHISSA waited for the drop out of jump space. The only good part of the mental jolt that left humans unable to think or focus clearly for up to half a minute after leaving jump space was that no one was immune. Unlike most ailments in which some people were never affected, such as motion sickness, the jump-space jolt was endured by everyone. Nobody got a free ride by virtue of genetics or experience or training. The universe might be fundamentally unfair, but at least in this one way all humans operated on a level playing field.

  All humans. Did the enigmas, the Kicks, or the Dancers suffer the same way? She wished that Bradamont was here to ask. Hell. I wish Honore was here for a lot of reasons. She has so much more experience than I do in just about everything.

  “Departing jump in fifteen seconds,” Senior Watch Specialist Czilla warned.

  Marphissa braced herself for the exit from jump space. Everyone did that, everyone always did that, even though it didn’t make any difference at all.

  Manticore fell out of jump space.

  A moment before, the heavy cruiser had been apparently alone except for the occasional inexplicable lights that were the only relief from the dull grayness of jump space. Abruptly, Manticore was surrounded by the other ships of the flotilla, while the stars once again looked down upon them all from the endless dark of the universe.

  Manticore and the other warships, the heavy cruiser Gryphon, light cruisers Hawk and Eagle, and the small, swift Hunter-Killers Sentry, Sentinel, Scout, and Defender, all of them shepherding the twenty large, clumsy freighters carrying the two brigades of ground forces. The freighters normally looked awkward, but more so now with dozens of aerospace shuttles fastened to their exteriors like remoras clinging to whales.

  Marphissa kept her eyes locked on her display, waiting for it to update with information on what was in Ulindi Star System. Certain things would definitely be here and unchanged, the things that had existed at Ulindi for untold years before humans came and gave the star a name, and would continue to be here when the last trace of humanity’s presence had crumbled into ancient dust. A star a bit cooler and a bit larger than Mother Sol, the standard against which all stars continued to be measured by humans. Ten orbiting objects large enough to qualify as planets, two of them swinging around less than two light-minutes from the star, far too close to it and far too hot by human standards. Another a bit farther out at four light-minutes, but still too close, so that its oceans had long since formed a permanent hothouse. Six more planets whose orbits ranged from ten light-minutes to nearly five light-hours from the star, too far out and too cold to be suitable for humans to walk around freely, getting progressively more frigid the farther they were from the sun, the middle three of them gas giants.

  And one planet swinging around its star at seven and a half light-minutes’ distance. As planets went, it was just the sort of place humanity wanted. About sixty percent of the surface covered with water, a minor axial tilt so seasonal variations weren’t too extreme, and plenty of native vegetation and other forms of life that over millions of years had transformed a world of raw rock, water, and a heavily carbon dioxide atmosphere into a place of oxygen, dirt, and trees.

  About a million humans made their homes at Ulindi, most of them on that planet. Some of the rest were in space, and some of those were on warships. “There’s the heavy cruiser and the light cruiser,” Kapitan Diaz said as the symbols appeared on his display. Both were orbiting the habitable planet, nearly six light-hours away from where the ships from Midway had arrived. Haris’s two warships would not know the attack on Ulindi had begun until they saw the light from the event reach them six hours from now.

  The few other defenses that were visible at Ulindi all matched the descriptions Marphissa’s warships had received before leaving Midway. “That spy did good work,” she commented. “There’s nothing here that we didn’t expect to find, and no threats anywhere near us. As long as we keep those two cruisers away from the freighters carrying the ground forces, this shouldn’t be too hard.”

  “Not compared to fighting off Syndicate flotillas,” Diaz agreed.

  Marphissa gazed at the description of the habitable planet. “That’s a nice little world,” she said out loud.

  Kapitan Diaz nodded and snorted at the same time. “Soon we’ll be
dropping bombardment projectiles on that nice little world.”

  “Not all that many compared to what a big flotilla could accomplish,” Marphissa said. “We’ll do some serious localized damage, but that’s it. A lot of nice little worlds like this were bombarded to hell and back during the war.”

  “We’re not going to do that,” Diaz objected. “Like you said, just localized damage to military targets. And the snakes. We could never do what was done to Kane.”

  “No. I hope not.” Marphissa looked over at Diaz. “I’ve talked to Honore Bradamont about that, about how horrified Black Jack was when he came back and found out the Alliance was bombarding cities and towns indiscriminately. Yes, that was true. Black Jack could not believe that his own people were doing that. Bradamont researched it afterward, trying to learn when the policy had changed, and found out there was never one big decision made. It was lots of little decisions, doing one thing, then another thing, each little thing justified when a big decision to just bombard cities never would have been approved. But before they knew it, there they were, and they didn’t even realize what had happened, what they were doing that would have horrified those ancestors they care about so much.”

  “You believe her?” Diaz asked. “Maybe she was taught it happened that way, like we were taught that the Alliance started the war and everything else bad.”

  “Oh, she was taught it was all the Syndicate’s fault,” Marphissa agreed. “But she researched it, using classified access to learn for sure what happened. And that’s important for us. For you and me. Between Black Jack’s time and not so long ago, the Alliance fleet gradually started doing things they never would have done. That could happen to us. We have to make sure it never does, and pass on to those who come after us that it must never happen.”

  “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?”