The Lost Stars: Tarnished Knight

by Jack Campbell

  “And I assume that you’ve had no success in tracking down whoever tried to kill him.”

  She lowered her hand to lock eyes with him. “I gave orders that Colonel Rogero not be harmed. If anyone connected with me attempted it, they did so against my orders, and I will ensure that they regret it.”

  Drakon watched her for a moment before replying. “Are you implying that somebody connected with me tried to kill Colonel Rogero?”

  “I have no information on it, General, so, no, I’m not implying that.” She wondered why Drakon had jumped on that possibility so quickly. Was he worried about someone close to him? Was her own source in danger of being compromised?

  He shook his head. “I find it hard to believe that some citizen took a shot at him. But more hidden snakes . . .”

  “Could be involved,” Iceni agreed. “Everyone is looking for such a nest.”

  Drakon nodded this time, rousing from his moodiness. “I wanted to make a point to mention how well Kommodor Marphissa did. We had zero problems with coordination and support. I’ve never worked with a better mobile forces commander.”

  “That’s very good to hear. I was going to give her command of the battleship when it becomes operational.”

  “She should handle that easily,” Drakon said. “But I hope she retains command of more than that. She handled formations and multiple units well.”

  “I’ll remember that.” Why was Drakon making such a point to praise Marphissa? They had both been on that heavy cruiser for a while. Drakon’s staff thought that Marphissa was their agent already. Had he actually turned Marphissa against Iceni or made enough progress toward that to want her somewhere with greater authority in the mobile forces? “You brought back a lot of good shipyard workers. They’ll enable us to get the battleship here operational much faster than anticipated.”

  “How soon?”

  “Two months.”

  “That’s still one hell of a big threat window,” Drakon muttered, then, as if sensing that she might take that as criticism, glanced at her. “I appreciate that there’s little else either of us can do to get it ready faster. But we’ll want to get a lot of those workers back to Taroa as soon as we can to work on that second hull.”

  Iceni sighed. “A year to finish that one. Let’s hope we’re granted that much time.”

  “A year on the outside. Maybe we can push that, get more out of the workers now by offering real rewards.” Drakon eyed her defiantly. “Maybe bonuses for workers instead of executives.”

  She raised both eyebrows at him. “I didn’t know you were such a radical. We need the executives and subexecutives on our side, too. Perhaps bonuses for all based on actual results?”

  That brought a brief, sardonic smile from Drakon. “Basing bonuses on results? And you’re calling me a radical?”

  “If you don’t object, we can see how such a system might work, knowing that our people have been taught by the Syndicate system to game any method of evaluation. There might be ways to keep them focused on producing the results we want. Is there anything else?” Iceni asked. His odd edginess was making her jittery, too. Something had happened. But what? Togo hadn’t reported discovering anything, but his sources weren’t that close to Drakon. “It’s good to have you back, General Drakon.”

  He nodded heavily, then got up to go.

  She would have to check with her best source. And not by message. Something about this required a face-to-face meeting despite all the risks that involved.

  * * *

  BACK inside her own offices, the door sealed and alarms activated, Iceni sat down. Why was Drakon acting guilty? The most likely explanation, and the most frightening one, was that he had decided to move against her but felt unhappy about that for some reason.

  She sat down, swiveling in her chair to face part of the virtual window wall located behind her desk. It currently displayed the city at night, as seen from some location high up, as if her offices rested in some high-rise with a perfect view instead of being safely located belowground. The lights of the city swept down the slope to the waterfront, where restless waves foamed with phosphorescence against natural rock and human-built walls. Her hand rested on one building glowing against the darkness, flattened so that the patterns on her palm and fingers could be scanned, and a patch of the virtual window vanished, to be replaced by a square of nothingness. After working through a half-dozen more access methods and verifications, a small armored door popped open.

  Iceni pulled out the document within, an actual printout of a written work. Thumbing it open to a random page, she began finding the letters she needed to spell out a message. Forming messages using a book code was a tedious process, but still the only absolutely unbreakable code known to humanity. Her contact would only respond to a request for a personal meeting using that code.

  Finally, she drew a mobile designed to be untraceable out of the same safe, punching in a number, then waiting until an anonymous voice-mail box announced its readiness. “One One Five,” Iceni recited the page number, then, “six, ten, seventeen . . .” She went through every number matching the order of each word on the page, then hung up and tossed the mobile back into the safe.

  Iceni paused as she was about to return the document to the safe. Countless things had been written by humanity in thousands of years, the vast majority kept preserved in virtual form, buried among a universe of preserved human thought, but bound printouts had never lost their grip on readers. That helped keep the use of a book code unbreakable no matter how fast systems could scan material in an attempt to break the code, since no two printouts had to use the same margins and page counts. All you needed were two that did match such things but didn’t match any other printout of the same work.

  Now she stared at the document, which she had chosen because of its great age, wondering what its creator would say if he knew his work was still being read by someone this long after it had been written on ancient Earth itself, in Sol Star System, home of humanity, the place the citizens still revered as the home of their ancestors. “Incredible Victory,” she said softly, one finger tracing the words of the title. The name “Midway” on the book had caught her attention when she was seeking a document to use for this purpose, a reference to some other embattled place long ago with the same name as this star system. She didn’t think of herself as a superstitious woman, but perhaps the title would prove to be a good omen.

  * * *

  ANY CEO with brains had at least one bolt-hole, a means to get out of their offices or living quarters without being spotted, an escape route known to no one but the CEO. Even Togo didn’t know about the one that Iceni had used this time, because even Togo could not be totally trusted.

  No one could be totally trusted. You learned that, or you didn’t survive as a CEO.

  Muffled in a coat against the evening breeze, her face half-buried in the raised collar, she walked through streets sparsely populated at that hour. Iceni felt naked without her bodyguards even though her clothing carried an impressive array of defenses. Any citizen who made the mistake of trying to rob or assault her would quickly learn just how big an error it was.

  Surveillance cameras, both openly placed and concealed, gazed in her direction as she passed, but they did not see her. Embedded codes created by the ISS to ensure that they remained invisible to the police and other routine observation by creating blind spots in digital sensors were very useful for anyone wanting to move without being seen by the automated eyes of the police and other security forces.

  Finally, she reached her objective, an inside corner in a mass-transit station, somewhere out of the crowd enough to avoid random contact or being overheard but close enough to others not to stand out as avoiding company, background noise providing a constant rumbling to help mask conversation. She leaned against one wall, watching passing people for the one she was to meet. Few gave her or the nondescript coat she wore a second glance. High-ranking CEOs and presidents didn’t dress that way, and no CEO or pre
sident would be out in public without bodyguards or staffers.

  A man wearing another unremarkable civilian coat sauntered into view, altering his course slightly to bring him close to her, where he leaned on the wall beside Iceni. Raising one cupped hand, he showed a small unit glittering with green lights.

  Gwen nodded and raised her own hand, showing her own surveillance-detection and blocking readout, also displaying steady green. That was their insurance that every security system monitoring this spot had been temporarily diverted, spoofed, or blinded. The crowds walking by could see them, but no one monitoring their location remotely could hear or see them at all. As far as the surveillance systems were concerned, they weren’t there. State-of-the-art equipment like theirs didn’t come cheap, and finding out all the necessary codes to mislead the equipment wasn’t easy, but those were some of the benefits of being a president. “Any problems?” she murmured.

  “No,” her source replied. He didn’t seem nervous at all, appearing bored to the casual observer. “What is the difficulty? You know how risky this is.”

  “I need answers now, and I need to know that they are accurate answers,” Iceni said. “What is Drakon doing?”

  Her source paused, but more as if thinking than hesitating. “Nothing out of the ordinary. There’s a lot of work to be done overseeing the return of our brigades to the surface and catching up on things here now that he’s back.”

  “Is he moving against me?”

  Another pause, this time apparently in surprise. “No.”

  “If you betray me now, either before I die or soon after I die, Drakon will learn who has been giving me information about him.”

  “I have no doubt of that.” Her source shook his head. “He is not acting against you. That’s not to say there is no threat. But it’s not from him.”

  “Why is he acting odd?” Iceni demanded.

  This was a longer pause. “He slept with Colonel Morgan.”

  “Oh.”

  She wondered what her tone had conveyed as her source gave her a sharp look. “General Drakon got drunk. She took advantage of that. He slept with her one time and only one time. That is what he feels guilty about.”

  “You’re joking.” She would have to be blind not to see how desirable Colonel Morgan would be to a man, and Iceni had lived long enough not to expect perfection from any man, especially when it came to his behavior with women. But she could still be disappointed when a man lived down to her expectations. “One time?”

  “Yes. He will not repeat it.”

  She had picked up something in his own voice. “What disturbs you about that?”

  “You know that I don’t trust her. I am afraid she had some other goal when she seduced General Drakon and will try to use that night to her advantage.”

  “If he’s going to take some crazy whore to his bed, he should expect problems,” Iceni said, hearing her own voice get sharp and angry. It sounded like she was taking the incident personally, which was ridiculous.

  “She’s not crazy, at least not the way that you’re thinking. Morgan acts in ways that cause others to underestimate her. For many of those others, underestimating her was the last mistake they ever made. She is very good at planning for both the long and the short term. She has some plan now. Do not take her too lightly.”

  Iceni made an irate sound. “Then perhaps we would be better off without her to worry about. No matter how dangerous she is, she can be eliminated. No one is invincible.”

  “I strongly advise against such a plan and such an action. I will not cooperate in it.”

  She felt frustrated now, as well as angry. “You hate her as much as anyone. You’ve tried to kill her already, and you’re advising me not to?”

  Colonel Bran Malin grimaced. “I did not try to kill her.”

  “Why not?”

  Another pause. “Three reasons,” Malin said. “First, she’s very tough and very smart. Any attempt would have a rough time succeeding, and the repercussions from a failure would be extremely serious. Second, General Drakon values her advice and abilities. If he found out that anyone had planned a hit on Morgan, he would be very unhappy. If he discovered I had a role in it, my access to him would be forever eliminated. He would not forgive anyone, not even me, for an attack on someone he considers a faithful subordinate. I very nearly lost my access because of the . . . misunderstanding during the attack on the orbital facility here. Drakon would never have believed me or forgiven me if, during that incident, I had not killed someone who definitely did intend on killing Morgan. If he suspected you in an assassination attempt, it might motivate him to strike at you in the belief that a hit on Morgan was just a prelude to a direct attack on him.”

  The arguments made too much sense to be ignored, though she doubted his explanation for the “misunderstanding” in which he had fired at Morgan. There was something else there, but she couldn’t tell what it was. “What is the third reason?” Iceni demanded.

  Malin’s expression revealed nothing as he shook his head. “That is a private matter.”

  “I want to know it.”

  “I regret to disappoint you.”

  She set her jaw, wondering how far to push it, whether to threaten exposure. She still didn’t know why Malin was feeding her information, but he had never told her anything that had proven to be less than accurate, and that kind of source that close to Drakon was invaluable. Malin surely knew as well as she did that she wouldn’t want to lose that source unless his usefulness had ended, and therefore a threat to expose him would be a bluff. “You have no idea what Morgan’s plan is?”

  “All I know is what I know about her. She’s ambitious. She has no moral qualms. She rarely fails in what she attempts.”

  Iceni breathed a soft laugh. “Why wasn’t she a CEO?” That led to another thought, a worrisome one. “Do you think that she means to supplant me?”

  “It’s possible. It may be that Drakon is her planned tool in that.”

  “Which one of us is in more danger from her then? You or me? Or Drakon himself?”

  “I believe that Drakon is safe from her but cannot be certain. Between you and me, I don’t know,” Malin said. “If I am killed, look beneath the surface of whatever happens. I haven’t been able to learn who tried to kill Rogero. Maybe she was involved in that, too. Rogero and Gaiene are very close to Drakon, Kai only a little less so. If my guesses are right, in the long run, Morgan is going to want to isolate Drakon from any influences but her, anyone who might lead him in directions other than whatever she wants.” Malin looked directly at Iceni. “That includes you. I’m not sure of General Drakon’s feelings, but, at the least, he respects you.”

  “But he doesn’t trust me,” Iceni said.

  “No. He trusts me, and Morgan, and Rogero, Gaiene, and Kai.”

  “He trusts you, and you tell me his secrets,” Iceni pressed.

  Malin paused again. “I am loyal to General Drakon.”

  Are you? What is your long-term plan, Colonel Malin? Not that you would tell me. How much of what you’ve just said is truth as you know it, and how much is spin aimed at convincing me to do what you want? “Loyal to General Drakon? You have yet to prove that to me.”

  “It is probably impossible for me to prove my loyalty to him to your satisfaction.”

  “It would be easy,” Iceni said. “Kill her.”

  “Morgan? No.”

  “Are you at least watching her?” Iceni demanded.

  Malin’s lips twitched in a twisted smile. “I do little but watch her. And I never turn my back on her.”

  “Then if you won’t do what seems to be needed in regards to Morgan, at least keep a close eye on General Drakon as well and see if you can prevent him from doing anything else stupid.”

  “I am watching him. I admit that I let my guard down at Taroa. But she won’t get to him again like that, and if she tries, I have no doubt that General Drakon will reject her this time.”

  “You may have no doubts, but I
have mine,” Iceni said. Men. If only they could be counted upon to use their brains to make their decisions for them.

  Granted that their male fallibilities made it much easier for women to use them as tools.

  Women like Morgan.

  Women like her. You won’t have Drakon, Colonel Morgan. I may not decide to want him, but you won’t have him. “And I will watch you, Colonel Malin,” Iceni said.

  Another very brief smile. “I never doubt that I am being watched.”

  “Keep me informed,” Iceni finished, turning to walk off, knowing that behind her Malin would also blend into the crowd of citizens, there and yet invisible to the surveillance systems monitoring everything said and done in the city.

  Almost everything, that is.

  Iceni listened as she walked. There were important things that could be learned when you moved among the citizens, indistinguishable from one of them. They said things that you would never hear otherwise, things murmured too low to be distinguished from background noise by the omnipresent surveillance systems.

  A lot of talk about Taroa, and most of that happy. The snakes were gone from there. We had helped our neighbors and asked for nothing in return. That Drakon was a great general. There’s a new trade agreement. Ships will be coming through more often again. Good news. Good news.

  Did you hear about President Iceni? What Buthol is saying? I don’t believe it. But she was our CEO before she was our president. Everyone knows about CEOs. Isn’t she different? Then why no election for president yet?

  Iceni kept her head down until she reached the outer entrance to the bolt-hole, passing through a dozen locks and safeguards of various kinds before feeling safe enough to remove her coat with a heavy sigh. Who was this Buthol? Why were the citizens so full of praise for Drakon but asking questions about her? Was that Drakon’s work, sowing propaganda on his own behalf among the citizens?

  It was late. She was tired and needed to think, to have time to absorb what Malin had said, to let her subconscious mull over how Malin had looked and acted.

  President Iceni went to bed.

  * * *