The Lost Stars: Perilous Shield tls-2

by Jack Campbell

  Morgan shrugged. “If the enemy does something smart, do you reject using the same idea because the enemy came up with it? General, it would be extremely useful for us to have effective control of that battleship. You still don’t know who sicced those assassins on you, and maybe on me, but you can’t rule out the possibility that our President wants to clear the field of competitors. If you want Gaiene to lead this op, that’s fine. Let me go along so I can do some, uh, close-in maneuvering with Kontos and get him really interested in doing what we want.”

  “No offense, Roh, but that tactic wasn’t too successful when you tried it on Black Jack.”

  She made a scornful sound. “That slug Malin was there cramping my style. And that woman, the one that Black Jack was obviously sleeping with. I still could have gotten to Black Jack if Malin hadn’t been there. That Alliance drab wasn’t anything special.”

  Drakon laughed. “She was an Alliance battle cruiser commander. And Black Jack’s wife.”

  “Wife?” Morgan cocked on eyebrow at Drakon. “When did that happen?”

  “Not too long ago, I guess.”

  “He’ll get restless. Now, what about our boy Kontos?”

  I don’t like it, and I don’t want to do anything that would feed any suspicions that Gwen has of me. But I have to put this in terms that Morgan can understand. “Here’s the thing, Colonel. If you make an explicit play for Kontos, and he doesn’t bite but instead reports it to his superiors, where does that place us? You’ll be on his ship. He can record everything you say and do with him even if you two are supposedly in an unmonitored compartment.”

  Morgan scowled at that. “He probably would, too. Just to protect himself. If that happens, our own plans could be exposed.”

  “I need you here, anyway,” Drakon added. “You’re right that we need to run down whoever ordered the attack that almost got you and me. You’re the best for that job.”

  “Damn right I am. Whoever set that up covered their tracks really well.” Mollified by Drakon’s praise, Morgan saluted jauntily. “But I’ll find whoever it was.”

  “And then you will tell me, and I will decide what to do. Right?”

  “Yes, sir,” Morgan replied with another grin.

  “Especially if you think either Colonel Malin or President Iceni were involved,” Drakon emphasized with his hardest glare. “Nothing is to happen to President Iceni.”

  Morgan’s smile didn’t waver. “Yes, sir.”

  “MADAM President, the military explosives used in the bomb at your desk have been traced to the armory of a subunit of the brigade commanded by Colonel Rogero of General Drakon’s division,” Togo reported dispassionately.

  “Someone must have issued those explosives,” Iceni observed. They were in her office, as secure a place to talk as possible. Her desk display showed a stream of shuttles heading upward from one of Drakon’s camps toward a single freighter in orbit.

  Togo, standing facing her desk, nodded diffidently. “Interrogations were begun to determine who had issued the explosives and under what pretences. One of the supply sergeants, however, was found dead in his quarters before questioning began. The cause of death appeared to be an overdose of the illegal drug known as Rapture.”

  “An overdose? Before questioning began? How very convenient for someone. Who knew that questioning of those personnel was to be conducted?”

  “General Drakon’s office was notified twenty minutes before our team arrived at the armory,” Togo said.

  “Twenty minutes? Who gave that much warning of an interrogation raid?” Iceni demanded. “Do I have to personally supervise the carrying out of even the most basic security actions?”

  “The interrogation personnel were delayed by a breakdown of their vehicle,” Togo said without emotion. “I accept full responsibility for the failure.”

  “That won’t bring back that supply sergeant and whatever he knew.” Iceni sat back, rubbing her mouth with one hand as she thought. “But he might not have known anything. I have experience in the mobile forces, remember. Even with the tightest controls, it is possible to acquire the small amount of explosives used in that bomb by legitimate means. All you have to do is draw some for training or for demonstration purposes and draw a bit more than you really need.”

  The sub-CEO who had taught her such tools for dealing with rivals had been a charming man who had appointed himself her mentor, seeking to bed Iceni through guile rather than coercion. He might eventually have succeeded in that if his wife hadn’t blown him and his bed to bits over yet another woman. In the end, he had taught Gwen a few more lessons than he had intended.

  “The fact remains, Madam President,” Togo persisted, “that the explosives have been traced to the command of Colonel Rogero, who is a loyal follower of General Drakon.”

  “And that doesn’t make you suspicious?” Iceni said, letting ice form on her words. “Neither of those men is stupid.” Though you wouldn’t know it from Drakon’s oblivious behavior in personal matters. “Draw the explosives from a source directly traceable to them? Even the lowest level subexecutive knows better than to point such an accusing finger at themselves.”

  “Perhaps that was the goal,” Togo suggested after a pause. “They know you would regard such a move as hopelessly amateurish, so by pointing the evidence so clearly toward themselves, they would convince you that they were not involved.”

  Iceni laughed scornfully. “That’s the sort of thing that happens in bad novels. Drakon is a successful commander. He knows how foolish it is to base your plans on the assumption that your opponent will act exactly as you wish, and the more convoluted your wishes, the less likely it is that your opponent will take the steps you desire. What can you tell me about the trigger for the bomb?”

  “It was as I said, Madam President. Tuned to your biometrics and focused on the chair behind the desk.”

  She sat forward, eyes intent on Togo. “Then how did you detect its presence from the door?”

  Togo didn’t hesitate. “There was a wave-guide leak. A pinhole that allowed some signal strength to emanate back and to the side.”

  “I see. How fortunate. Are there any leads yet as to who set up the attack on General Drakon and whether or not the Alliance officer was also a target?”

  “No, Madam President. Most of the members of The People’s Word have proven to be unaware of the actions by their most radical associates. Others have disappeared though remains linked to several indicate they might have been victims of suicide belts that exploded. Three were found dead from the actions of injected nanos.”

  “The same type of nanos that killed the one captured by Colonel Morgan?”

  Togo visibly tensed at Morgan’s name, but his voice remained unemotional. “Yes, Madam President.”

  “I expect better results, on both issues, and I expect them soon. These internal threats have to be dealt with. We have enough to worry about with external threats.” Her eyes went back to her display, watching the shuttles rising to orbit and dropping back down to the surface.

  “Madam President,” Togo said, “may I suggest that the assassination attempt aimed at General Drakon might have been staged? That his survival was because the attackers were told not to kill him?”

  “Are you saying that Drakon himself set it up? That they did really want to kill the Alliance officer and only her?”

  “It is possible. That officer had already worked with Kommodor Marphissa and might be perceived to be in your camp, and the close ties between you and Black Jack are widely known.”

  “What does that— What if the attack were aimed only at Colonel Morgan?” We won’t discuss my personal life. But as for the rest, you opened this can of worms. Tell me where you think this part of it leads.

  Togo paused for several seconds. “If that were the case, then, speaking solely in terms of your self-interest, Madam President, it is unfortunate that it did not succeed.”

  Iceni almost smiled before she caught herself. “Let me know of an
ything else you find out as soon as you learn it.”

  After Togo had left, she went back to gazing at the shuttles. Less than six days to set this up. The freighter should be pulling out of orbit within the next hour.

  Her gaze shifted to the hypernet gate near the edge of the star system. Marphissa and the others were still on their way to Indras Star System. They wouldn’t pop out of the gate at Indras until after the matter of Haris’s flotilla was resolved, wouldn’t know until they got back whether or not the battleship Midway would still be here to receive the hoped-for thousands of crew members who had been formerly assigned to the Reserve Flotilla. That was assuming the Recovery Flotilla made it safely to Varandal, succeeded in convincing the Alliance authorities there to hand over the prisoners, then made it back to Midway Star System in one piece.

  And someone, or some ones, here had either tried to separately kill her and General Drakon, or had tried to make it look like they were trying to kill the pair of them, or that she and Drakon were trying to kill each other.

  “Madam President?” The call came over her routine comm channel. “The press crews have arrived for your statement supporting the low-level political-office elections. They may try to ask questions.”

  Iceni sighed and keyed her reply. “That’s fine. Send them in, and tell them I will answer any questions that I deem appropriate.”

  No matter how hard those questions were, they would surely be easier than the questions privately bedeviling her.

  “I don’t like this,” Kapitan Stein complained, looking as unhappy as she sounded. Her heavy cruiser, one of two that were orbiting the gas giant in order to protect the battleship Midway and the orbiting dock where the battleship was moored, was within two light-seconds of where Gaiene was on that orbiting dock, so there was no noticeable delay in the conversation.

  Colonel Conner Gaiene made a half-apologetic shrug, both palms facing upward in the eternal gesture meaning what can we do? “You’re only pretending to run away.”

  “If we didn’t have orders from the President herself, Gryphon and Basilisk would stay near this facility and fight!”

  Had he ever been as enthusiastic as this Kapitan Stein? It was hard to remember. Like many of the mobile forces officers, Stein was young for her rank, the more senior officers often having suffered varying but unfortunate fates when the star system revolted against the Syndicate. “Don’t go too far. We may need you to chase off the four Hunter-Killers with the battle cruiser.”

  “We’ll do more than chase them off,” Stein promised. “Don’t let Kontos give you any lip,” she added.

  “Now, Kapitan, I know Kapitan-Leytenant Kontos has been promoted quite rapidly, but haven’t we all?”

  Stein smiled. “Not you in the ground forces. You should have killed more of your supervisors.”

  “I was one of those supervisors,” Gaiene reminded her. “And I am very comfortable where I am in the command hierarchy. If you ever get to visit the surface, you should look me up, and we can discuss the matter over drinks.”

  Kapitan Stein got that is-he-really-hitting-on-me? look, then apparently decided Gaiene wasn’t serious. “The jump point from Maui is two and a half light-hours from us at this point in the gas giant’s orbit. We’ll wait until at least three hours after we see the enemy flotilla arrive, by which point they should have settled onto vectors clearly indicating they are coming this way, then we’ll pretend to pull away and leave you to your fate.”

  “Don’t try to tangle with that monster on my account,” Gaiene warned. “I don’t want to have to do an alas, poor Gryphon speech.”

  Stein laughed, either because she got the joke or because she was being polite. He had noticed that, as the years went on, younger women were beginning to treat him politely, which was a very bad sign for any man with lecherous intent. At least, Gaiene thought as Stein ended her call, young women weren’t laughing at him yet. There’s still time to seek an honorable death in battle before that happens, or a dishonorable death at the hands of an enraged relative of a lover. I wonder how much longer it will be before I cease to care which it turns out to be?

  “THEY’RE here.” Lieutenant Colonel Safir, who had been promoted to fill the second-in-command slot in the brigade after Lieutenant Colonel Lyr had been promoted to command the orbiting dockyards at Taroa, tapped a control to bring a display near her to life.

  Colonel Gaiene cocked his head to one side as if studying the image intently. “Just a few specks of light.”

  “I can zoom it in.” The tiny dots of light blossomed into the lean shark shapes that ground forces had learned to fear and hate. One massive shark led the way, four much smaller shapes following in its wake like remoras.

  “Our target,” Gaiene commented. “Why did I volunteer for this?”

  “You didn’t,” Safir pointed out. “None of us did. We just got told to do it.”

  “Was that what happened?”

  Safir grinned. She had no trouble with his banter, recognizing when he was serious and when he was just trying to ward off emotion, and had also made it clear she wasn’t interested in any closer relationship even if Gaiene had dared to try it in the face of Drakon’s orders to avoid his own subordinates. All in all, a very valuable second-in-command. “When did that freighter leave?” he asked.

  “Six hours ago.” Safir pointed to a part of the display showing space nearby. “Just poking along as if it were a routine supply ship on its way home. We got the final soldier and the last of the equipment under cover five hours ago.”

  “Well done!” Gaiene waved an extravagant gesture of praise. “Our new friends from Ulindi will see nothing untoward here.”

  “Just a nonoperational battleship, with hardly anyone on board, ripe for the plucking.” Safir sobered, eyeing Gaiene skeptically. “What do you think our odds are?”

  “If our foes are confident? Not bad at all. And we have given them every reason to be confident, especially since if we had had a day or two less of warning, their confidence would have been fully justified, and this battleship would be doomed.” Gaiene pursed his mouth in thought. “Mind you, we will have to move carefully and make sure our people are distributed properly to provide an appropriate welcome when our guests arrive. How fast are our guests moving?”

  “Point one light speed. The mobile forces called that right.”

  “This is their battlefield, after all.” Gaiene looked at those far-off shark shapes and the vector data displayed under them. “If they don’t change their speed, we’ll have more than an entire standard day to get ready for them.”

  Safir smiled again. “It doesn’t seem right to watch your opponent spend twenty-five hours charging at you. Like they’re stuck in something and moving very slowly.”

  “Whereas they are actually in nothing and moving very quickly.” Gaiene glanced at Safir. “You have done ship boardings, haven’t you?”

  “Only one, as a junior executive. It’s been a while.”

  “It’s been too long for all of us,” Gaiene said with mock-sadness, drawing a grin from Safir at the barely masked innuendo. “But we were talking about boarding operations, not personal problems. We ground forces types are out of our element in space. Space is too big, too fast, too strange compared to operating on a planet or an asteroid or orbital facility. So we minimize the time we spend in space for this engagement. We fight here on this ship, then we fight there on that ship. Simple enough.”

  “Except that everything that’s simple is very difficult.”

  Gaiene nodded with an appreciative expression. “You’ve been reading the classics. Very good. Are you planning to command this brigade?”

  Safir smiled again, though gently. “I’m happy as second-in-command.”

  “So was I.” The former brigade commander had died in the same action that . . . Gaiene felt the darkness weighing on his spirit again and tried to shift the topic. “Let’s go over where everyone will take up position inside this large mobile unit. I want the entire b
rigade ready an hour before our guests come knocking.”

  “Yes, sir.” Safir brought up a schematic of the battleship’s deck plan on the display, and they went to work.

  Battleships normally carried a couple of thousand personnel. Until very recently, the Midway had only a couple of hundred aboard, and a good proportion of those were outfitters, construction specialists instead of mobile forces personnel. They could have put up a small fight against the kind of boarding party likely to come off of a battle cruiser, but with no chance of success.

  But a warship big enough to carry a couple of thousand crew members could also carry a thousand soldiers with room to spare.

  “THE last of the outfitters have left the Midway and are sheltering inside the dock facility,” the very-young-looking Kapitan-Leytenant Kontos reported to Colonel Gaiene. “If the battle cruiser conducts a high-speed, heavy-braking maneuver as I expect, they will be next to us in just under an hour.”

  Like the rest of his soldiers, Gaiene was in battle armor and waiting at the spot inside the battleship from which he would begin the fight. He regarded the youthful Kapitan-Leytenant with an approving look that hid any trace of melancholy or wistfulness. He had been that young once, that enthusiastic once. That had been a long time ago, it seemed, but every once in a while someone like Kontos helped him remember. “Did the outfitters put on a convincing display of panic?” Gaiene asked.

  “If I had not known it was an act, I would have believed it myself,” Kontos advised cheerfully. “Between you and me, I suspect some of the outfitters really are feeling a bit panicky.”