The Lost Stars: Tarnished Knight

by Jack Campbell

  So, “Reynard,” what is your real name and what is your real game? Have the Syndicate Worlds been overthrown here? What happened to CEO Chan, who was in control here the last I heard? He could have been swept up by the snakes, in which case you could be a Syndicate replacement, promoted rapidly after the ISS cleaned out the CEO ranks in this star system.

  He also seems eager for us to leave. One thing I can be certain of is that “Reynard” doesn’t want us going to the gas giant. That’s a good sign. “Maintain course for the mobile forces facility about the gas giant,” Iceni ordered Marphissa.

  She thought about her next step, then activated her comms.

  “This is CEO Janusa responding to CEO Reynard. Unfortunately, I lack the time for a diversion to the second planet of this star system. My flotilla will proceed to the mobile forces facility, where I am certain I will be able to acquire whatever I need. For the people, Janusa, out.”

  Another message. “This is CEO Janusa to the commander of the flotilla located near the fourth planet of this star system. I am here under direct orders from the government at Prime. I wish to be contacted by your commander as soon as possible. There are urgent requirements that necessitate changing your tasking.” Those requirements being the need to get you farther away from that mobile forces facility so I can have a free hand there.

  “CEO Janusa is really throwing her weight around,” Kommodor Marphissa commented after Iceni finished sending the second message.

  “She’s a real bitch,” Iceni agreed. “That will ensure that no one questions whether she’s a real CEO. Have you had any luck informally contacting the commanders of any of the warships in that other flotilla?”

  “I’ve sent them some feelers via the unauthorized back channels in the comm system, but no replies yet.”

  “Let me know the instant there are. I’d much rather collect those warships as additions to my flotilla than have to fight them.”

  They were twenty-eight hours’ travel time from the mobile forces facility.

  The next message came seven hours later, from the facility orbiting the gas giant rather than the inhabited planet. “CEO Janusa, please alter vector and proceed to the second planet. I regret to inform you that we have had an outbreak of serious illness following the last flotilla’s visit to this facility. We have yet to identify a successful treatment. More than half of our personnel are already incapacitated. For the people, this is acting facility commander Sub-CEO Petrov, out.”

  “She looks in good health for someone overseeing a plague-struck facility,” Iceni commented. “Kommodor Marphissa, I want your ship’s physician to evaluate the appearance in this message of Sub-CEO Petrov, if that is indeed her real name.”

  Marphissa passed on the order, then turned to Iceni. “If they are suffering from possible plague conditions, then regulations call for the facility to have already been broadcasting a standard warn-off when we arrived in this star system. Instead, this message comes at a time delay consistent with having received orders to send it from the authorities on the second planet after those authorities had heard your reply to their request that you divert there.”

  “What an astounding coincidence.”

  Listening to an internal message, Marphissa nodded. “Understood,” she said. “Madam President, my unit’s physician says that Sub-CEO Petrov was clearly under stress when she sent the message but showed no signs of illness or long-term stress outside normal parameters for a sub-CEO.”

  Iceni watched the slow changes in the positions of objects on her display as her flotilla raced steadily toward the gas giant, and as the planets, moons, asteroids, and comets in the Kane Star System swung much more slowly about their sun or each other. “The flotilla near the gas giant still hasn’t moved. How long can they wait to move and still be able to intercept us before we reach a position where we can see behind the curve of that planet?”

  “Approximately . . .” Marphissa shrugged. “Three hours before we reach the gas giant. It depends on just where behind the curve the battleship is located.”

  Something didn’t feel right, and Iceni finally knew what it was. “They’re trying to warn us off. We’ve ignored the warn-offs. You know how things work. If the first admonition or threat doesn’t work, you escalate until you find something that the other side has to pay attention to. What do they have that we would have to pay attention to?”

  Marphissa’s frown only lasted a moment. “A battleship.”

  “Yes. If they swing out that battleship and say ‘Stay out, this is a restricted area,’ even CEO Janusa would have to listen. They haven’t done that yet, though.” Neither had the flotilla commander replied to her direct order to contact her. That was also odd. “Still not a word from any unit in that other flotilla?”

  “No, Madam President. Nothing.”

  Iceni frowned. “When I was executive rank and even sub-CEO, that would have been very unusual. We always contacted by back channel other units we encountered to pick up the latest unauthorized information so we could anticipate events or prepare personal defenses against negative actions.” But no one in their right mind would ever have admitted to a superior that they did it. She had sometimes wondered how much more the Syndicate Worlds might have accomplished if its executives didn’t expend so much effort working internal politics. The war had often seemed to take a backseat to inner power struggles.

  “Really?” Kommodor Marphissa asked, trying to project surprised innocence. “If that sort of thing still happened, and of course I’m not saying it ever does, but if it somehow did, I would expect it to happen under these circumstances. But it hasn’t.”

  “Somebody has even the back doors locked down,” Iceni mused. “Have the snakes slaughtered the crews on those warships like they did on HuK-6336?”

  “If they did, they could be at a disadvantage in a battle. They’ll only be able to operate the units using automatic controls since they might lack the crew to do the jobs otherwise.” Marphissa eyed her display. “Or there could have been a revolution, and the crews of those units don’t want to give themselves away to us since we have superior numbers.”

  “All possibilities.” Iceni stabbed an internal comm control. “Colonel Rogero, have you been monitoring ground forces communications in this star system?”

  “Yes, Madam President.”

  From the way he always carried himself and spoke, Rogero seemed to be even more professional than Drakon’s praise had indicated. It made all the more mysterious his lapse in getting emotionally involved with an enemy officer. Unless that enemy officer was something truly exceptional herself. And there’s no sense asking Rogero that question because if he’s in love, he’ll think she’s the only woman like her that has ever been or will ever be. Love has far too negative an impact on anyone’s ability to think clearly. “Is there anything out of the ordinary at all?”

  “Only one thing. All communications appear to be routine.”

  “And that is out of the ordinary?” Iceni asked.

  “It is when we’re here, Madam President. There should have been some reaction, some discussion, something to reflect our presence. There has been nothing.”

  “Can you tell me what that means, Colonel?”

  “No. It is unexpected and unusual. That’s all I can say. Wait.” Rogero had turned and was talking to someone else, then faced Iceni again. “My comm analyst has found no signs of comms with any ground forces that might indicate those forces are aboard a battleship near the gas giant. They wouldn’t be communicating directly with such forces if they wanted to hide their presence from us, but there are always leaks in other comms where someone references supplies or a personnel movement or something else that compromises the secret. We haven’t seen anything like that.”

  “So all we will face are crew members?” That was good news.

  “Madam President, it appears unlikely that there are any ground forces aboard that mobile unit, but if a force of vipers or other snakes is on that battleship, we wo
uldn’t be able to tell. The ISS is very good at concealing information within apparently routine communications.”

  Perhaps not good news after all, then. “I appreciate your assessment, Colonel. We will be at the gas giant in twenty hours. How long will it take your soldiers to board the shuttles when I order an assault on the battleship?”

  “Two minutes. We will be armored up and ready.” Rogero hesitated. “You do realize that if a major portion of the battleship’s weaponry is active, our shuttles will not survive to reach the mobile unit. A shuttle’s survival time on that kind of an approach is measured in seconds.”

  “I understand.” She hadn’t realized the odds against the shuttles would be that bad, but it probably depended upon just how much of the battleship’s weaponry had been activated.

  After Rogero had signed off, Iceni considered her remaining options. There weren’t many other things that she could do to influence events right now, but there was one big thing remaining in her arsenal of surprises. “When we’re closer to the gas giant,” she told Marphissa, “I will drop the disguise, tell them who I am and what we represent. If they are snakes, that will bring them out of hiding. If they aren’t, they’ll know they can avoid a fight.” Twenty hours left until they reached the facility, and likely seventeen hours until the other flotilla moved.

  Iceni gazed at the representation on her display of her own flotilla. The warships were in the standard Syndicate mobile forces formation, a box with the three heavy cruisers side by side in the middle, the four light cruisers posted at the rear corners of the box, four of the HuKs at the front corners, and the other three HuKs just below the heavy cruisers in the center of the box. A simple arrangement, with firepower concentrated in the center, and easy to shift direction without changing the configuration of units because all the warships had to do was swing together onto new vectors. It had worked for decades against the Alliance, if by “worked” one meant that it allowed the Syndicate Worlds’ flotillas to slug it out with Alliance fleets until the survivors on whichever side prevailed could claim victory.

  And then Black Jack had shown up, and massive flotillas started disappearing, wiped out in battles with the fleet led by him. I’ve seen what records we have of the battles. He used all kinds of different formations, swinging them all over in every direction, somehow bringing them all together at the right moment to hammer our flotillas. What I wouldn’t give for lessons from Black Jack on how to control a force of warships in battle. But what do I have that he would want? Access to our star system? I can’t deny him that. He has a fleet that dwarfs anything I could muster.

  Is he the sort of man who craves conquering every woman he meets? If so, that would give me one thing to offer. He can’t have had many Syndicate CEOs. But that doesn’t match what I’ve heard of him, or how he acted when we spoke, and . . . and I really don’t want to do that. If it was mutual desire, that would be one thing, but if it was for some gain then I would be selling myself, and for all my sins that is one thing I have avoided. Perhaps my rivals would define my actions differently, but that’s what I believe.

  “Madam President, is something wrong?” Marphissa asked.

  Aware that some of her inner turmoil must have been showing, Iceni put on a mask of straightforward thoughtfulness. “I was just contemplating our formation and whether I should change it if we have to fight.”

  “I think that depends on the status of the battleship,” Marphissa suggested.

  She was right. Iceni nodded. “I’ll make the decision when I have the necessary information.”

  So far, though, necessary information seemed to be in short supply in the Kane Star System.

  * * *

  THIS time, “CEO Reynard” had on a more aggressive front, perhaps because Iceni’s flotilla was only five hours’ travel time from the mobile forces facility by the time the message from him was received. “CEO Janusa, access to the mobile forces facility has been restricted by order of the Syndicate Worlds. You are required to divert your flotilla from its current course and proceed to the second planet, where your supply needs will be met, after which you can proceed on your missions outside this star system. Failure to comply with this direction will constitute disobedience to a directive of the Syndicate Worlds. For the people, Reynard, out.”

  Iceni considered her reply. Events were reaching the point at which decisions would take on momentum that would be hard to alter in the time remaining. What would most likely produce the reactions she needed from the people in Kane, and in particular those in the warships in the other flotilla?

  “It is time to announce our true colors,” Iceni said to the others on the bridge before she triggered her own comm controls to broadcast. This time, she deactivated the avatar so that everyone would see her true appearance.

  “People of the Kane Star System, this is President Iceni of the independent star system of Midway. Midway has thrown off the yoke of the Syndicate Worlds and no longer answers to the CEOs of the weak, corrupt, and incompetent government on Prime. As the Syndicate Worlds crumbles, it is time for the star systems of this region to join together for mutual protection and support, so we can follow those courses of action in our best interests rather than the orders of distant masters who represent a failed approach. Distant rulers who would take our wealth, demand our obedience in all things, and give nothing in return. Only we can defend ourselves. Only we can ensure the safety of our homes.

  “The ISS at Midway has been wiped out. We are no longer forced to bow to the snakes. I urge you to join us. My flotilla will support your struggle. To any who still wish to follow the decrees issued by the dead hand of the Syndicate Worlds, I tell you not to seek to hinder our movements or actions. We will fight, and we will win. For the people, Iceni, out.”

  She turned to Marphissa. “Contact the other flotilla again. You personally. I want them to hear from someone else in a mobile forces command role talking directly to them.”

  “Yes, Madam President.” Marphissa sat silent for several seconds, then activated her own comms. “Warships of the Kane flotilla, this is Kommodor Marphissa of the Midway flotilla. Join with us to defend this region against aggression and disorder, join with us to defend all that we hold dear. We truly fight for our people now. If you choose not to join with forces of the independent star system of Midway, you must avoid any fight with us, or we will annihilate you. For the people, Marphissa, out.”

  The messages were going out at the speed of light, but it would take them a while to reach their destinations. “In about half an hour, when our messages reach the other flotilla, all hell is going to start breaking loose in this star system,” Marphissa predicted.

  “I wish I could see the reaction on the second planet when the messages get there,” Iceni replied. “The important thing is that it will take an hour and a half for my message to reach that planet, and another hour and a half for any response from the planetary authorities to reach the warships in the other flotilla. They’ll have nearly three hours to make up their own minds on what to do before they receive orders from their bosses on the second planet.”

  There was nothing left to do then but sit and watch. Iceni didn’t want to be distracted when something finally did happen, so she avoided the urge to pull up some work documents or a novel or a twitch-and-move game and instead just stared at her display. She discovered that hitting one command produced an expanding sphere image that represented the message she had sent, spreading at the speed of light through the star system. On a display covering such a wide area, the bubble appeared to move slowly but steadily, sweeping across installations, planets, warships, and merchant ships. Iceni got a kick out of seeing when her message actually arrived at each location.

  But she wouldn’t have any idea what their reactions would be until the light from those movements reached her. Iceni found she could activate reaction bubbles, showing how long it would take her to see such activity, but the swarm of expanding bubbles quickly merged into a welter of foam in
which it was too hard to make out individual expansion waves. She wiped out that option, couldn’t seem to locate a simpler one, and glowered at the display. I will not be one of those clueless CEOs who can’t carry out simple functions without some lowest-level untrained worker showing me how to enter the commands. I’ll just work it out in my head. Thirty light-minutes to the other flotilla. That means thirty minutes until they received the messages from us, during which time we get three light-minutes closer to them at point one light speed. Then the light showing their reaction needs to come back to us, which will take . . . about twenty-five, twenty-six minutes as we keep closing on them. Close to an hour, even if those other warships react immediately.

  Space is too damned big.

  * * *

  “VECTOR changes on the other flotilla.”

  The announcement by the maneuvering specialist jerked Iceni out of the light nap she had dropped into without realizing it. Blinking away sleep, she tried to make out the movement on her display.

  “Coming around toward an intercept on us,” Marphissa commented. “We’ll have to see where they steady out, but I’d bet that they’re coming toward us.”

  “But why are they coming toward us?” Iceni demanded. Everything had once been easy. If they were Alliance warships and they came toward you, it meant they wanted to fight. If they were Syndicate warships, they wanted to join up. But now Alliance warships might be friendly, Syndicate warships were likely to be hostile, and she didn’t even know who these warships were answering to, let alone if they were readying for a fight. “Kommodor Marphissa, if we have not heard anything from that other flotilla within the next five minutes, you are to inform them that we will destroy them as soon as they enter weapons range.”

  “The Kane flotilla is steadying out at point one light speed, on a direct intercept with us,” the maneuvering watch reported. “Time to contact, two hours and twenty-one minutes.”