The Lost Stars

by Jack Campbell

  Iceni’s right-hand man Togo had come back, leaning close to Iceni and whispering some report to her. It must have been something sensitive that he wouldn’t want to risk being intercepted or overheard on even a supposedly secure comm circuit, but Drakon was certain Togo hadn’t yet found the source of the transmission.

  I don’t doubt that Togo is good. Iceni wouldn’t have him around, and so close to her, if he wasn’t very capable. But Togo isn’t driven by the intense rivalry between Malin and Morgan. That rivalry can be a real pain to deal with, but it’s also invaluable a lot of the time.

  I wonder what does drive Togo? That could be important to know.

  “General,” Malin said in a way that immediately brought Drakon out of his contemplation of Togo and Iceni’s relationship.

  Had Malin won the race already?

  But as Drakon looked at Malin, he saw that the colonel wasn’t displaying triumph. Instead, Malin was looking toward the entrance to the command center.

  Morgan had come strolling in. She didn’t appear to be in any hurry, moving with the leisurely certainty of a panther closing in on trapped prey. One of her hands had reached down and was in the process of drawing the hand weapon holstered on one hip.

  And Morgan was walking straight toward President Iceni.

  Drakon moved forward, but not as fast as Togo. Iceni’s bodyguard/assistant swung about with startling speed, coming between Morgan and Iceni. A series of moves and countermoves occurred almost too fast to follow, ending with Morgan and Togo pointing weapons directly at each other’s faces at point-blank range, while their free hands were locked together off to one side, each straining for advantage.

  “Hold it!” Drakon said, the volume of his words low but the intensity strong enough to freeze everyone within earshot, which included Morgan and Togo. Under other circumstances, it might have been comical to see all of the workers sitting completely rigid at their consoles, afraid to even breathe. But, right now, Drakon could see no humor in anything. “Stand down, Colonel Morgan.”

  She took a deep breath, her eyes not leaving Togo’s face, then Morgan stepped back, breaking contact with a graceful motion as if executing a ballet move. Her weapon’s barrel lowered in a smooth arc, ending with it pointing at the floor.

  President Iceni, her face impassive but her eyes revealing surprise, worry, and anger, spoke in a quiet voice carrying the same power as Drakon’s had. “Back away.”

  Togo, his expression showing nothing, took one pace backward, his weapon disappearing into concealment in his clothing as rapidly as it had appeared.

  “What the hell’s going on?” Drakon asked Morgan.

  Her eyes went to him, measuring his anger. Morgan didn’t try to push things when she knew he was not in any mood for that. She answered with professional detachment, putting no feeling into her words, her expression similarly betraying no emotions. “Sir, you asked me to find the source of that message to the snakes. I found it.”

  “And then you were to notify me.”

  “The source is right here, General. Notification and arrest would have to be simultaneous.”

  Iceni had recovered enough from shock that she reddened in rage. “Is this officer implying that I am—”

  But before she had finished speaking Morgan had stepped to one side, walking no longer straight at Iceni but toward one of the operator consoles close by her. Togo, his eyes never leaving Morgan, moved sideways to remain between her and Iceni.

  Morgan stopped beside a specialist hunched forward over her console as if intently focused on nothing but the information her instruments were reporting. But Drakon spotted the sheen of sweat on the back of the operator’s neck as Morgan’s sidearm rose again, the barrel coming to rest against the head of the worker. “Don’t worry,” Morgan said to the operator in soothing tones of mock-reassurance. “I won’t splatter your brains all over that equipment unless you try to hurt someone. No bombs nearby? No bombs on you? No bombs in you?” The specialist made vague sounds of denial. “That’s good. Maybe you’ll live. But I think some people want to talk to you before they make up their minds about that.”

  “P-please,” the operator stuttered, visibly shaking with fear now. “I had to. M-my family—”

  As two security guards ran up to stand by the unfortunate worker, Iceni gazed at the operator with an expression that could not have been harder had it been carved from granite. “Togo. Accompany the guards and this prisoner to a full-spectrum security cell. I want everything she knows, especially her contacts.” As Togo began to move, Iceni added one more directive. “I want the facts, whatever they are. Nothing more.”

  The other workers nearby were gradually recovering from their own frozen shock, staring at their unfortunate former companion with faces in which growing anger and hate could be easily seen. “Snake.” The word could barely be heard as it was murmured first by those closest to the caught agent, then repeated by those farther off, until the entire command center was filled with a low hiss of recognition and rage.

  Drakon could see the despair on the face of the snake agent as she heard that, as the single, repeated word made it clear that she might still breathe and think but was effectively already dead to those who had once been her friends.

  Morgan saluted Drakon with a self-satisfied expression. “You wanted the snake. You got the snake.”

  “Could you tell if she was working alone?”

  “No, sir. I couldn’t get past the cutouts her contacts were using, but there are all kinds of footprints.”

  “We couldn’t have expected to clean out the snakes,” Malin said, “just by getting the overt agents. If the snake files hadn’t been partially destroyed, we might have tracked every mole and hidden asset the snakes had in this star system.”

  “Are you blaming me for that, Colonel?” Morgan asked.

  “Of course not, Colonel.”

  Drakon gestured to break up the argument. “You both did well. Colonel Malin localized the signal, and Colonel Morgan found the one who sent it. However, I want less drama next time, Colonel Morgan. A lot less drama. You should have known the President’s bodyguard would have seen you as a threat.”

  She smiled, baring her canines. “I am a threat.”

  “Not unless I tell you to engage someone, understood?”

  “Yes, sir, yes, sir.” Morgan slid a sly glance at Malin. “You must be getting old. I could have nailed half the command center while you hesitated.”

  Malin smiled back. “I may be a year older biologically, but in terms of maturity, I freely admit to being much older than you.”

  “Knock it off,” Drakon ordered. “Morgan, don’t do anything like that again. Now, get on that operator’s console and see what you can find. Malin, scan systems planetwide for any indications that something might have been triggered from this console.”

  As they went to work, Drakon walked over to Iceni, who did not seem to be in a very good mood despite finding the source of the message to the Syndicate flotilla.

  “If,” Iceni said in the subzero tone of a CEO pronouncing a sentence on a subordinate, “that woman ever makes such a move in my presence again, I will treat her as an immediate and direct threat to me.”

  Drakon paused, knowing exactly what that meant. Loyalty to Morgan warred within him against his developing relationship with Iceni and the grudging admission that Iceni had every right to be angry. “I thought we had an agreement. No more executions or assassinations unless we both sign off on it.”

  “That agreement does not bind bodyguards, General Drakon. Don’t try to split hairs on this. She will be dead if she does anything like that again.”

  He felt anger and stubbornness building, fighting to keep both emotions under control. “It won’t happen again. But if your assistant goes after Morgan, you might end up losing him instead of me losing her.”

  Was that disappo
intment briefly apparent in Iceni’s eyes, swiftly covered by imperial wrath? “You’re threatening me? Threatening my closest associates? Now?”

  “No.” His own antagonism was rising and made his next words less well-thought-out. “The matter was handled clumsily, but there was no intent to target you. You must be aware of that.”

  “Do not use the word must to me, General. I am not required to act or think in ways that someone else finds appropriate.”

  She was getting angrier. So was he. Break it off, you idiot. Keep pounding against this wall, and all you’ll accomplish is cracking your skull. “Perhaps we should discuss this later.”

  “Perhaps we should.” Iceni’s glare swept the command center. “I will be in my private office monitoring everything from there.”

  She stormed off, leaving Drakon fuming and feeling like he had lost even though she had been the one to leave this tiny field of battle. He cast a dark look across the command center, seeking anything to focus his ire upon, but everyone was at least pretending to be totally immersed in their duties. Dammit, Morgan. Can’t you use a little sense every once in a while? And why the hell didn’t Iceni accept that it was just a mistake?

  Morgan must have known that acting like that would make Iceni mad as hell at her and at me—

  She did know. Damn. You and I are going to have a long and clear talk, Colonel Morgan.

  IT took a strong effort of will to keep from slamming the door behind her as Iceni went back into the office. She managed to seal the door firmly but without the sort of force that would have drawn comments.

  That stupid man! He must realize how that looked! That woman threatened me. If it had been anyone else, they would be dead.

  I thought she was smart. Malin told me she was smart. Why would anyone who was smart do something so incredibly . . .

  Because they meant to?

  Iceni forced herself to calm down, carefully seating herself and staring at nothing as she tried to order her thoughts. Above the desk, the display showed the enigmas and Black Jack’s fleet slowly converging for an encounter that would not happen for some time yet. With that time to spare, Iceni focused on nearer events.

  What if the whole thing was deliberate? The snake agent offered a cover for Morgan’s actions. Those actions could have been fully intended to provoke me into attacking her.

  Morgan knows Drakon. He’s loyal to a fault. He got exiled to Midway because, when the snakes suspected one of his subordinates, he helped her get away. The snakes couldn’t prove it, but they could still retaliate against him.

  She knew if I attacked one of Drakon’s subordinates, he would reflexively defend that subordinate. But why would Morgan want that? To drive a wedge between Drakon and myself. She can see that we’re working together. Maybe the brainless man has actually told Morgan that we have a relationship. A working relationship, I mean.

  Morgan laid a trap, and an experienced CEO like myself stepped right into it. Malin was right about one thing at least, I can’t underestimate Morgan.

  Malin . . . He had said something that had caught her interest. What was it? Age? Something about . . . “I may be a year older biologically.”

  That was it. Why would Malin specify his age biologically relative to Morgan unless he knew her history? Malin must be aware that Morgan was actually about twenty years older than she appeared to be, having been frozen in survival sleep for that period in a suicide mission against the enigmas. The mission had been canceled, and Morgan had been one of only two of the volunteers recovered. But that mission, and Morgan’s role in it, was still classified at a level that Malin should never have gained access to. And Drakon was not the sort to have shared that kind of personal information about one subordinate with another subordinate.

  Yet Malin knew about it. Perhaps he had been tipped off by the medical waiver that had allowed Morgan to return to the service despite mental impacts from the mission that left her borderline stable. Had he been able to find out why that waiver had been granted and by whom? That was a question well worth asking. Malin’s mother was in the medical service. That might be where he got the connections to learn that, and maybe to learn how someone like Morgan got that waiver in the first place.

  Questions. Togo was off questioning the snake agent. There had been something bothering her about that. But what? The agent? The message?

  No. Togo himself.

  Iceni sat down, resting her elbows on the desk in front of her. She put her weight on her arms for a moment, relaxing her body and trying to think.

  The shuttle. It had been too convenient, too easy.

  Iceni checked the display again, seeing that Black Jack and the enigmas were still a good time away from contact. She tapped her comm tablet to put out a call. “Togo.”

  “Yes, Madam President.” His response was almost immediate. Togo’s eyes, his face, his voice, all as usual revealed nothing, carrying only the soft tones of respect that she always heard from him.

  “How did you so quickly determine who was on the shuttle that tried to flee this planet?” Iceni asked.

  “It was a simple matter of checking location readouts for important individuals, Madam President.”

  “And neither Governor Beadal nor Executive Fillis attempted to deceive the location-monitoring systems?” Iceni studied Togo closely, watching for any revealing reaction, but he maintained his poker face as he nodded.

  “They did. Both attempts were easily spotted. Governor Beadal was using an older version of deception software and Executive Fillis employed a redirection mechanism that can be identified when searched for using the right parameters.”

  It sounded right. A reasonable explanation. Am I simply being paranoid?

  An old bit of CEO humor came back to her. What is the difference between a sane CEO and a paranoid CEO? The paranoid CEO is still alive.

  “What have you learned from the snake agent?” Iceni asked.

  “Nothing so far, Madam President. She never directly communicated with her snake handler. Cutouts were employed, single-use points of contact who disappeared after each set of instructions were given to her. She knows nothing of her handler except the code phrases used to verify that an order came from that handler.”

  “Have you searched the back files for messages containing those code phrases?” Iceni demanded.

  “Yes, Madam President. None are showing up even though the agent reveals no deception to the sensors in the interrogation room. Those messages may have contained coded instructions to wipe themselves a short time after receipt. The file names might still exist, but with no contents, those files would not appear in response to our search.”

  Another dead end. Damn the snakes and damn Colonel Morgan and damn stubborn General Drakon and damn the enigmas—

  “We have very likely learned all we can from the snake agent,” Togo said coolly. “Do you wish her retained for further questioning or disposed of?”

  Iceni, angry at just about the entire universe at the moment, almost snapped a dismissive order to eliminate the agent. But she caught herself just before uttering that word. I know what he’s asking. Keep her locked up, or get rid of her? She’s a snake agent. Her life is already forfeit. If in a moment of insanity we let her go free, then her own former coworkers would kill her.

  And yet . . .

  “Retain her. I want her alive for now. Ensure she is not abused.” Some instinct told her that was the right answer. Why? She didn’t know. All the more reason to give that answer. She needed time to figure out why something was telling her to keep the snake agent alive. “Keep me informed of anything else you learn.”

  After Togo’s image vanished, Iceni glared at the top of the desk, then looked carefully at the display above it again. The light from the first clash of the Alliance and enigma warships would be visible here soon. She levered herself to her feet and walked out of the office, tryin
g to project every ounce of confidence and command that she possessed. Mess with me, will you, Colonel Morgan? Killing you might not be feasible now, but that doesn’t mean I can’t lay plans. And the next time you try to use Drakon’s loyalty to his subordinates against me, I’ll be ready.

  Assuming Drakon had been motivated to defend Morgan by that loyalty and not by some other feeling toward Morgan.

  Why that thought made Iceni bloom with renewed anger she didn’t know, but the anger just strengthened her resolve to reveal nothing of her feelings at this moment, to act as if she and Drakon were co-rulers without a hint of friction between them. She walked up to Drakon and smiled politely, using the posture Syndicate rules laid out for interactions between equals. “It won’t be long now before we see Black Jack and the enigmas cross swords.”

  Drakon, who had been standing stiffly, looking across the command center with a thundercloud on his brow, turned a startled glance her way, the surprise quickly shading into relief, then suspicion. “Yes.”

  At least he’s smart enough to say as little as possible so as to minimize the chance of saying the wrong thing. “The snake agent can’t identify any handlers.”

  “I’m not surprised,” Drakon said. “The snakes know their business. Maybe if someone else questions her?” He left the question hanging, waiting to see how she would respond and whether she would announce that particular agent had been disposed of and wouldn’t be answering any more questions for anyone.

  “Feel free,” Iceni replied.

  “I will.”