Finished, Iceni waited, both elbows resting on the arms of her chair, her hands clasped under her chin. She felt slightly drained, as if she had just engaged in some strenuous physical act. Any response from the mobile forces with Kolani would take a while to be heard, then she would—
It had taken her a few moments to recognize the sound she heard growing as it vibrated through the hull of the cruiser. Iceni had been present at countless official celebrations and ceremonies, had heard many groups of citizens obediently chanting slogans or shouts, but this was different, a wild cheering and jubilation that both thrilled and alarmed. Some of the line workers on the bridge embraced or exchanged hand slaps. One middle-aged subexecutive stood quietly, tears streaming down his face.
Sub-CEO Akiri sat, his shoulders slightly hunched as if prepared to defend himself from a mob, a sentiment that Iceni could understand at the moment. But Executive Marphissa smiled wolfishly as the sounds of celebration went on and on.
The noise was one word being chanted over and over. “Iceni! Iceni!” Her name, being voluntarily shouted by citizens. She felt more disoriented than ever at the idea of being acclaimed by those she ruled. What have I done? There’s more going on here than just a change in the titles of the masters of this star system.
Under some stern looks from Akiri and Marphissa the workers on the bridge dampened their celebrations, returning to their tasks, though Iceni noticed that the atmosphere felt different. The sullenness that seemed to always underlie worker attitudes couldn’t be sensed at the moment.
“Twenty minutes until contact,” the maneuvering line worker announced, sounding now like he anticipated that moment.
Iceni looked at her display, smiling sardonically. In twenty minutes, she would have her first extremely public chance to screw up. If her idea failed, if Kolani badly hurt the ships following Iceni, then all the star system would see it. All of her life Iceni had been taught to avoid showing any sign of weakness. Her fellow humans, she had been told, would strike the moment they sensed any vulnerability, any ineptitude.
In twenty minutes, she just might learn how true that was. At least Drakon wasn’t facing any more problems at the moment.
* * *
“WE’VE got a problem,” Colonel Rogero said.
Drakon’s eyes went to the virtual window next to Rogero, where a video feed displayed a very large crowd gathering in a central park. The noise from the crowd boomed even across the volume-modulated circuit. “The citizens are celebrating.”
“Celebrating I don’t mind,” Rogero said. “But this looks ugly. That crowd is exploding in size like a sun going nova, and the chatter we’re picking up is spinning out of control. My instincts tell me that celebration is going to turn into explosion.”
“A mob attack on us?”
“No. There’s no direction. We’ve got a thousand ‘leaders’ who our software has identified in personal comms so far. It’s chaotic. Lots of emotion. Feelings that all traditional controls and restraints are gone. I think you can do the math on where that’s going to lead.”
Drakon nodded. “Rioting. Looting. Breakdown of order. Where are the police?”
“Forted up inside their stations. They seem to be equally afraid of the mob and of our soldiers.”
That was at least understandable on both counts. “City administrators?”
“The same,” Rogero said scornfully. “Only much more useless than the police.” Technically, officials like mayors and council members had been elected to their posts by popular vote, but those votes had been completely rigged for longer than either Rogero or Drakon had been alive, so the winners tended to be less than popular in fact.
After another searching look at the gathering crowd, Drakon nodded again. “I expect you have the same thing happening elsewhere in the region you control?”
“Everywhere crowds can gather. Even some of the ground forces soldiers started to head out to join the crowds before I locked down the barracks. What are my orders?”
Malin had been listening, and now spoke urgently. “You have to deal with this in a way that makes you seem to be on the side of the crowds. Control the mob by becoming their leader.”
Morgan’s snort of derision almost rivaled the roar of the crowd in volume. “He is their leader. We just have to remind them who’s in charge by using enough firepower to end this. Orders to disperse immediately, followed by a few violent examples of what happens to those who don’t follow orders, will shut this down.”
“We don’t have enough firepower to kill every citizen on this planet!” Malin snapped at her.
“We don’t have to kill all of them, just enough to make an example of those who don’t follow orders from us, their leaders.”
Drakon listened to them bicker for a moment, thinking through options, aware that Rogero was still waiting silently for instructions. All of their planning had been focused on getting rid of the snakes without having the planet devastated. He had guessed that there might be some problems with crowds, but this looked far worse than those guesses had suggested. As if keyed by that thought, Colonel Gaiene called in just then, at his back a video of the same kind of growing mob that Rogero was facing. Seconds later, Colonel Kai’s image appeared, accompanied by similar pictures.
“The situation is rapidly deteriorating,” Kai reported.
CHAPTER FOUR
“FIFTEEN minutes to contact with CEO Kolani’s force.”
Iceni sat watching her display, trying to figure out how to time what she planned to do. Sunk deep in thought, she kept running into obstacles no matter what idea she considered.
“Ten minutes to contact.”
At a combined closing velocity of point two light speed even vast distances could vanish far too quickly. Iceni knew how fast those ten minutes would disappear while she tried to puzzle out a solution. In the records she had seen, Black Jack seemed to have some sort of instinct for timing the kind of actions Iceni wanted to carry out, but she had neither Black Jack’s experience nor his talent. Some reports indicated that Black Jack also had a team of officers supporting him, people like that female battle cruiser captain on his flagship. But Iceni didn’t have—
A phrase she had heard recently ran across Iceni’s memory. You won’t be alone on the bridge. Marphissa. Was she good enough to call this? Akiri definitely wasn’t, but maybe the exec could help. “Executive Marphissa, private conference.”
Akiri betrayed a flash of worry and jealousy as Marphissa hastened to Iceni’s side, waiting silently until Iceni activated the privacy field around her seat. “Here is what I want to do. Can you time the maneuver properly?” As Iceni explained, she saw Marphissa’s eyes widen, then narrow in thought.
“Yes,” Marphissa finally replied.
Did that answer reflect overconfidence or a careful professional judgment? “You’re certain?”
“Not absolutely certain, no, Madam CEO. But I am reasonably certain that I can.”
“Is there anyone else aboard this cruiser who you believe could do better?”
“Not to my knowledge.”
“Then you will execute that maneuver at what you feel is the best moment,” Iceni ordered. “Without announcing that fact, I will pass maneuvering control of this cruiser to you when we are one minute from contact. I will handle weapons targeting for all mobile—all warships with us.”
“Yes, Madam CEO. I understand and will obey.”
Marphissa returned to her station, while Akiri tracked her progress with worried eyes. When promotions and demotions could come at the whim of a CEO, private meetings between a subordinate and a CEO would worry any supervisor.
“Five minutes to contact.”
All weapons systems were ready on the heavy cruisers, light cruisers, and HuKs under her control. Iceni itched to prioritize their target now, but waited. If Kolani somehow still had a tap into the comm net tying together those units, she might still have time to learn Iceni’s plan.
Akiri and the line workers on th
e bridge were all pretending not to be watching her, but Akiri’s nervousness was once again becoming visible. “Madam CEO,” he finally said, “we still require your prioritization orders for the mobile units’ combat-system targeting.”
“You will get it.” Iceni marveled at how calm her voice sounded.
“Three minutes to contact.”
Roughly five and a half million kilometers separated the two forces as they rushed together at a combined velocity of sixty thousand kilometers per second. Iceni shook her head, trying to grasp such distances and such speeds. She couldn’t really do it. Maybe even Black Jack couldn’t. All any human could do was set the scale on their display so that the distances and speeds had the illusion of being something a human mind could accept and work with.
“Two minutes to contact.”
Iceni carefully entered her targeting priorities, pausing to triple-check they were what she wanted, then sent them to the combat systems on not just her cruiser but all of the other mobile forces under her control.
Akiri seemed relieved for an instant as the orders popped up on his own display, then jerked with surprise. “What—?”
But Iceni was already entering the commands to shift maneuvering control to Marphissa. Looking back, she saw Marphissa nod to indicate she was ready.
“One minute to contact.”
Iceni took a breath, then keyed her comm circuit. “For the people,” she sent out to every listener. Perhaps the old phrase, which seemed to have lost any real meaning long ago, would now hearten her supporters.
Marphissa was rigid before her own display, concentrating, one hand poised over her controls.
Akiri gave Iceni a worried look. “Madam CEO, CEO Kolani’s force will be concentrating their fire on this cruiser.”
“This cruiser may not be where CEO Kolani’s force expects it to be,” Iceni replied.
“CEO Kolani’s force is firing missiles,” the operations line worker said.
Another nervous glance from Akiri, but Iceni shook her head. “We will hold fire except for defensive systems.”
The final seconds to contact dwindled with astounding speed. Hell-lance particle beams speared out from the warships under Iceni’s command, aiming to hit the oncoming missiles. Most of the missiles blew up as the hell lances went home, and a few more detonated when last-ditch barrages of grapeshot, metal ball bearings depending on their kinetic energy and mass to do damage, slammed into the missiles short of their targets. Iceni’s cruiser jolted as a couple of missiles detonated against her shields, creating dangerous weak spots.
Iceni felt sudden forces jerk at her as Marphissa activated last-moment maneuvering commands. The drone of the inertial nullifiers, normally too low to notice, rose in pitch as they protested the demands being made upon them.
The cruiser bolted upward, fighting momentum to curve away from the track it had held for more than half an hour.
Just beneath the cruiser, the rest of the two forces tore past each other so quickly that the moment of closest approach came and went far too quickly for human senses to register. The cruiser Iceni rode had already pumped out some last-moment missiles, and the rest of her warships did as well.
But none of those weapons aimed for the cruiser being ridden by Kolani. Instead, every missile, every hell lance, went for the stern of the other cruiser in Kolani’s force. C-818 staggered as multiple hits knocked down her stern shields and impacted on her main propulsion units.
Meanwhile, the barrage of hell lances and grapeshot aimed at the spot where Iceni’s cruiser should have been tore harmlessly past just beneath, only a few grazing the shields of the heavy cruiser as it steadied out again.
“C-818 has lost all main propulsion,” the operations line worker cried. “C-818 can no longer maneuver!”
Iceni smiled. “With CEO Kolani down to one heavy cruiser in her force, the odds are now much in our favor on the next firing pass.”
“But—” Akiri was shaking his head, trying to grasp what had happened. “CEO Kolani might just run now. Avoid action.”
“That would be the prudent thing to do, in the short run,” Iceni agreed. “But you know CEO Kolani’s temperament. She isn’t thinking prudently right now. She is angry. She wants to kill me even more now than she did five minutes ago. And in the long run, arriving at Prime with only one heavy cruiser would simply guarantee a swift firing squad for incompetence. No, she’s going to attack.”
On her display, the crippled C-818 had kept onto the same vector, heading helplessly away from the other warships. But Kolani’s other ships were bending into as tight a turn as they could manage. That turn covered a lot of space at the velocity they were traveling, but it was plain that Kolani intended to reengage as soon as possible.
“All units, come up one one zero degrees.” Iceni brought the rest of her own force curving upward to join with her cruiser, then continued the upward turn, not trying to match the hull-straining tightness of Kolani’s maneuver. “She’ll come to us,” Iceni said, steadying out her force.
Using the standard human conventions for maneuvering in a star system, up was the direction arbitrarily designated above the plane of the planets orbiting the star while down would be below that. Port meant a turn away from the star while starboard meant a turn toward the star. The conventions were the only way of ensuring that one spacecraft understood directions issued by another spacecraft when they were operating in an environment without any real ups or downs. To an observer on a planet, Iceni’s warships would have turned so far “up” that they had passed the vertical and were upside down, angling farther above the plane of the star system. Kolani’s force had done the same, so that the tracks of the two forces were coming together at an angle as if aiming to complete two sides of a triangle whose base was the original tracks of the warships before their first encounter.
“This time,” Iceni said, “we will target everything on CEO Kolani’s cruiser.” There was a chance that would destroy cruiser C-990, but there was also a chance that Kolani, if she was desperate enough and convinced that victory was impossible, would still launch a bombardment of the planet. That had to be prevented even if the price was a heavy cruiser that Iceni didn’t want to lose.
“Madam CEO,” the comm line worker said, “we’re getting broadcasts from the planet that you might want to review.”
“Is General Drakon still in control?”
“Yes.”
“Then I’ll deal with that after we’ve finished with CEO Kolani.”
The wait wasn’t nearly as long as before as the two forces rushed back together. Akiri seemed resigned to the damage that might still be inflicted on his unit. Marphissa appeared enormously pleased with herself but was keeping it mostly under wraps.
Only twenty seconds from contact, the odds changed again.
Iceni watched an alert pulse on her display as two of the three light cruisers under Kolani’s control and three of the four HuKs with her suddenly altered their tracks, pulling away from the rest of Kolani’s warships. A last-moment trick to create trouble for Iceni?
“They’re pulling away from contact,” Marphissa said. “Bolting out of CEO Kolani’s force.”
Iceni only had time to nod before the remaining warships slashed by each other. All of Kolani’s remaining units hurled their fire at the cruiser holding Iceni, but that now amounted to only one heavy cruiser, one light cruiser, and one HuK. On Iceni’s side, three heavy cruisers, one light cruiser, and four HuKs concentrated their weaponry on Kolani’s flagship as the two sides raced past each other in far less time than the blink of an eye.
Iceni’s cruiser C-448 was still shuddering from the hits on her shields when the sensors began reporting on the status of Kolani’s cruiser. C-990 had been hit hard. Kolani’s flagship tumbled through space, with maneuvering systems knocked out, the bow a total ruin, and numerous hull penetrations marking internal damage. “Try to get communications with C-990,” Iceni ordered.
“We could finish off the ship,�
�� Marphissa offered. “C-990’s shields are completely gone.”
“No.” They were watching her, clearly wondering at a CEO displaying any sign of mercy. Iceni felt her jaw tighten as her expression hardened, and the crew of her own cruiser hastily turned back to their tasks. “I want to recover and repair that ship if possible. We need every hull we can get.” There. That sounded like a nice, pragmatic justification for not slaughtering the helpless crew of C-990. “And send surrender demands to the rest of CEO Kolani’s units.”
The light cruisers and HuKs, both those that had stuck with Kolani and those that had bolted, accepted Iceni’s authority in a staggered series of messages that must have reflected how long it had taken each of them to wipe out the snakes aboard. Last came C-818, the cruiser’s executive submitting to Iceni. “I regret to report the death during the engagement of our former commander, Sub-CEO Krasny,” the exec reported tonelessly.
Akiri frowned and shook his head. “How could Krasny have been killed by hits on the stern of his cruiser?”
“A freak accident, I suppose,” Iceni said.
Marphissa gave Iceni a glance that clearly shared Iceni’s real opinion, that Krasny had not desired to yield, and his subordinates had taken matters into their own hands. Being a lot more discreet than Akiri, though, she wasn’t about to say that out loud. There wasn’t any sense in giving the crews of these warships any more ideas about what they could do to senior execs, and CEOs, aboard their own units.
The comm line worker sighed with frustration. “We can’t pick up any signals off C-990, Madam CEO. All comm systems on C-990 may be dead. We may have to send a shuttle over.”
“C-990’s comm systems may be dead, but surely the entire crew is not,” Marphissa objected. “Someone could have reached an air lock by now and be sending flashing light messages.”
“An escape capsule just left C-990,” the operations line worker announced. “There goes another.”
“Only two?” Akiri muttered.
Marphissa gestured in the direction of C-990. “We could close on the cruiser, get near enough to send a boarding party over and establish control.”
The Lost Stars: Tarnished Knight Page 8