Imperfect Sword

by Jack Campbell

  “That’s why it’s genius,” Bradamont exulted, seeing the looks of incomprehension on the faces of both Diaz and Marphissa. “Don’t you see? Midway appeared to have severely damaged main propulsion. But now she has revealed that her main propulsion is fully functional. Midway also looks to have only a few weapons operational.”

  Marphissa suddenly understood. “But now the Syndicate flotilla will think that is also a ruse? They will think maybe Midway is fully combat capable? And rushing to join the fight as soon as she saw an opening?”

  “Yes! Rushing to block the retreat of the Syndicate formation so it can’t escape. It’s a deception inside a deception, using one deception to make outside observers believe that the real things they are seeing are also a deception.”

  “What will CEO Boucher do?” Marphissa wondered.

  A few minutes later, the answer became clear as the Syndicate flotilla veered down and thirty degrees to port. “They’re heading for the jump point for Kane,” Diaz said. “Why? Midway won’t be in position to block them from reaching the hypernet gate for nearly nine hours.”

  “Boucher is panicking,” Marphissa said, hearing the satisfaction in her voice. “Nothing has gone right for her, she’s getting hit again and again, nearly all of her escorts have been destroyed, and now her battleship is threatened. She’s bolting along the nearest path to safety.”

  Bradamont nodded. “I think you’re right. And it appears that CEO Boyens was accurate in saying that Boucher would have orders not to bombard this star system. Otherwise, she would probably be launching a vindictive bombardment right now. The Syndicate Worlds does want this star system back intact.”

  “They won’t get it, intact or otherwise,” Marphissa vowed.

  The life-support fans came back to life.

  “Damn,” Diaz said, looking around as if he didn’t believe what he was seeing and hearing. “We won. And we’re still alive.”

  “Yes,” Marphissa agreed. “Now get back down to engineering and make sure your senior specialists in their enthusiasm to conduct quick repairs don’t blow us up now that the battle is won.”

  —

  IT had been nerve-wracking watching the battle play out, light-hours distant, unable to intervene and knowing that whatever she saw had long since happened. President Iceni poured out two drinks and offered one to General Drakon. They were alone in her office. “We should drink a toast to another victory over the Syndicate, General.”

  “You have some disturbingly competent subordinates,” Drakon observed.

  “My warship commanders are good, aren’t they?” Iceni asked, raising her glass in triumph. “We will live another day, General.”

  “Does it worry you?” he asked, looking down at his own drink.

  “Their competence? No. Both Marphissa and Kontos are very loyal to me.”

  He made a sharp noise, halfway between a snort and a grunt. “Don’t assume that their loyalty will necessarily lead them to the actions you want them to do.”

  “Point taken,” Iceni said. “But let’s not talk about your subordinates unless you want me to handle that situation.”

  Drakon frowned at her. “Don’t touch Colonel Morgan. If anything is done to her, the child dies.”

  “The child is a ways from being born yet,” Iceni pointed out. “And the child was only conceived because Morgan deceived you.”

  “She’s still my daughter.” Drakon met Iceni’s eyes. “I’ve spent a lifetime at war, destroying things and killing people. In all my life, I’ve only had a part in creating one single thing. So, yes, the child matters to me.”

  Iceni sighed again, loud enough for Drakon to hear her frustration. “I can understand your feelings, but do you want that daughter to be born? She will also be Colonel Morgan’s daughter. What would a child of hers be like?”

  “I’ve thought about that,” Drakon said in a low voice.

  “Have you? Are you thinking about your little girl bringing you crayon drawings of unicorns playing with children under rainbows to hang on your walls? Because if that little girl is anything like her mother, she is more likely to be using her crayons to draw images of wolves tearing apart helpless travelers during thunderstorms. Have you really thought about what a child of Colonel Morgan’s would be like? How could you know?”

  He hesitated long enough for Gwen to worry, then shook his head and spoke as if bewildered. “I know what a child of hers would be like. I know her son.”

  “Her son? Morgan has a son?” She was torn between incredulity at the news and anger that her aide Togo had not caught such an important fact when he had supposedly chased down all that could be known about Morgan. “Where is—?”

  “He’s here,” Drakon interrupted. “Colonel Malin. He’s her son.”

  Iceni only gradually realized that she had slumped backward, her mouth hanging open in shock. That’s why Malin refused to kill Morgan for me? He’s—? “But they’re almost the same age. How— That mission. When she was frozen in survival sleep.”

  “For about twenty years,” Drakon said. “The baby, Malin, was removed from Morgan before the mission. Syndicate policy. Morgan never knew. She still doesn’t know.” The words came out quickly, followed by an abrupt silence as Drakon stared at Iceni.

  You just figured out how powerful a weapon you blurted out to me? Iceni thought. If Morgan doesn’t know, and I threatened to tell her . . . hell hath no fury seems an apt description of what would happen next. “How are you intending to handle that situation?”

  He actually smiled, though the smile held no humor at all. “I’m torn between denial and just shooting both of them.”

  “I favor the second option, followed by denial.”

  “If anything happens to Morgan—” Drakon began.

  “Yes, yes. She’s set up mechanisms to ensure that the child dies. And if we try to find the surrogate carrying the child, that alone might trigger the child’s death. Very clever, very devious, very ruthless.” Iceni rested her chin on one hand as she gazed at him. “Have you considered the possibility that she also has backups?”

  “Backups?”

  “Clones. Morgan could have cloned the embryo and had the clones implanted in multiple surrogates.”

  Drakon considered that, frowning deeply. “Full human cloning is so heavily regulated, and forbidden under almost all circumstances, that she would have had to have found a doctor willing to risk the consequences.”

  “The CEOs running the Syndicate have no desire for identical copies of themselves to exist,” Iceni said. “All of those old stories about identical twins taking over from the originals are regarded as cautionary tales for modern-day CEOs. But you know how Syndicate society works just as well as I do. If there is a product, and any demand at all, there will be suppliers. And because parts can legally be cloned to ensure a sufficient supply of spare human organs, the expertise already openly exists.”

  “And Morgan could have found people who could handle full human cloning if anyone could.” Drakon sat straighter, meeting her eyes defiantly. “I want it understood that this is my situation to deal with.”

  Iceni waved an aggravated gesture toward him. “As long as it does not threaten me, you can play whatever games you like. I may control the warships, but you control the ground forces. I insist, however, that Colonel Morgan never be seen or heard by me again. Do whatever you have to in order to control her and protect your precious offspring, but if I personally see Morgan again, I will order my bodyguards to act.”

  He nodded heavily. “What about Colonel Malin?”

  That forced her to pause and think. Malin’s hatred for Morgan has never seemed feigned, but if he is truly Morgan’s son, that hate could either be real or faked for his advantage. But I can’t afford to have Malin’s access limited. Drakon apparently still doesn’t know that Malin has been feeding me inside information about him for some time. Not that Malin has ever given me anything negative about Drakon. “I have no quarrel with Colonel Malin,” Iceni f
inally said. “If he had not identified Executive Ito as a snake agent and stopped her moments before she poisoned you, you would already be dead, and this star system would be coming down around my ears.”

  Drakon nodded, took a drink, then focused back on her. “If we’re done talking about my subordinates, there’s another situation I want to discuss. We’ve just repelled another Syndicate attack, this one with a bloody nose. We’re going to have a little while to work with before the Syndicate can manage another attack.”

  “What is it you want to work on?” Iceni asked.

  “We have to deal with so-called Supreme CEO Haris at Ulindi. He’s already attacked us once. We pulled his teeth, but he could hit us again, or go for some other nearby star system like Taroa.”

  Iceni shook her head slowly as she thought. “I imagine that CEO Haris, excuse me, Supreme CEO Haris, would wait for the Taroans to get much closer to finishing their battleship before he moved in to take it and their star system. The Taroans haven’t even got the hull exterior on their battleship finished yet. But Haris might hit someone else in the meantime, as you say. What does he have available to do that?”

  “Right now?” Drakon asked. “And as far as we know, not much. Which is why we should hit him now, before he acquires more, just as we’ve acquired more. And some of his neighboring star systems don’t have the means to defend themselves against very much in the way of threats.”

  “Overextending ourselves won’t help anyone,” Iceni said. She called up the data she had on Ulindi Star System and frowned. “But this is more persuasive for me. It appears that Haris is maintaining the full Syndicate security structure, with his snakes running everything at Ulindi. If someone on the inside took care of Haris, they would inherit everything they needed to immediately turn Ulindi back into a base for the Syndicate.”

  “That’s right,” Drakon said. “But if we can knock out Haris before he can build up his ground forces and add more warships to his assets, then we can replace his regime with someone more sympathetic to us, or at worst someone open to bribery or able to be swayed by our threats. We’ll have reinforced the defenses of this region against further attacks from Haris or the Syndicate and made it more stable all around.”

  “You make a reasonable case,” Iceni conceded. “Both for acting at Ulindi and for acting quickly rather than waiting to see what either the Syndicate or Haris do next. What were you planning on doing?”

  He shrugged. “I can’t do much planning yet because there’s too much I don’t know. I need more inside information about the situation at Ulindi. We need to confirm how many warships Haris has, and confirm the number of ground forces available to him, how loyal they are to him, and how well equipped they are. It’s vitally important to be certain that we aren’t sticking our heads into a hornets’ nest. We also need to know if there are any alternative leaders to Haris still at Ulindi, or if Haris managed to eliminate the competition. I want to send one of my best . . . hell, my best, into Ulindi to find out the answers to those questions and prepare the ground for our move if the information confirms Haris’s weakness and only if it confirms his weakness.”

  Iceni nodded again, her eyes on the display. “You want to send Colonel Malin? Into a star system controlled by a snake CEO? I’m surprised you’re willing to risk him on what sounds like something very close to a suicide mission.”

  “Colonel Malin isn’t my best,” Drakon said, his voice growing rougher. “Not for a mission like this.”

  “Then who—?” Iceni shot a glance at Drakon, both of her eyebrows rising. “Colonel Morgan? You want to send Colonel Morgan?”

  “Yes.”

  Iceni hesitated, wondering why she was feeling a mix of approval and disappointment. Sending Morgan on what was very likely to be a one-way trip to Ulindi was a cold-bloodedly brilliant solution to the problem she posed, particularly since Drakon was being absolutely honest in saying Morgan was the best person he had for the job. But such a callous and calculated act of self-interest wasn’t what she expected of Drakon.

  She gave Drakon a sharp look. “I agreed to let you handle that situation, but I admit to being surprised that you are proposing that course of action.”

  “It’s the best course of action,” he growled, avoiding her gaze.

  “I agree. But, as I said, I am surprised that you are proposing it.”

  Drakon met her eyes with his own, his expression defiant. “I had to ask myself who I would send if this had happened a month ago. If it was purely about who was best for the job, who was most likely to succeed, and to survive. And the answer was Colonel Morgan. I’m not proposing to send her because of recent events. I’m proposing to send her despite those things.”

  “I see. But I still have one question.”

  “What’s that?” Drakon asked.

  “Why didn’t you kill her immediately when you found out? You’ve made me desperate enough for an answer to ask you openly.”

  Drakon’s face tightened with anger, but Iceni could tell the rage wasn’t directed at her. “I was strongly tempted.”

  “What stayed your hand?” Iceni asked.

  “I— All right. I didn’t kill her at that moment because I didn’t want the unborn child to be killed. And because I don’t fly off the handle.” His eyes met hers, stubborn and challenging. “I survived in the Syndicate because I didn’t act without thinking. I evaluate things. I decide what to do, and I plan how to do it.”

  “And this is your plan for dealing with Morgan? What if something happens to not only Colonel Morgan but also that incipient child of yours as well?” Iceni asked.

  He paused, looking angrier, though this time it was impossible to tell where that emotion was directed. “I am not sending her in the hopes that she dies. If she dies, that means she’s failed. But I don’t think she’ll fail. She’s best for the mission. Most likely to succeed. If Morgan succeeds, the risk to my soldiers will be greatly lessened. I can’t risk their deaths in an attempt to shield my own from harm.”

  Iceni laughed. “Damn. You really are an ethical son of a bitch, aren’t you?”

  “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

  This time she was the one who had to pause to think through her reply. “It means that not every surprise you toss my way is an unwelcome one. I am perhaps too willing to be pragmatic about some issues. We were all taught to do that, weren’t we? To become the perfect Syndicate CEO, unentangled by sentiment and any concern other than self-interest. It is reassuring to me to see that you failed to take some of that teaching to heart.”

  He made a face, frowning at the floor. “Don’t go assuming everything I do isn’t pragmatic.”

  “Oh? Would you have me killed if that seemed to be your best, pragmatic, course of action, General Drakon?” Iceni asked, eyeing him with a cool smile on her lips. How will you answer me, Artur? With evasion, or vagueness, or a direct reply?

  His frown deepened, his gaze staying on the floor. “I doubt that could ever be a good, pragmatic course of action, Madam President. This star system needs you.”

  “This . . . star system . . . needs me?” she pressed.

  Drakon looked up again. “You know what I mean.”

  “No. I don’t.” Iceni wondered exactly what emotions were roiling behind those eyes of his. Unfortunately, rising executives in the Syndicate had to learn to hide their feelings well, and a survival tactic like that wasn’t going to be abandoned by anyone who had mastered it.

  “I can’t run this star system without you.”

  “Oh,” she said. “So it is simple pragmatism again?”

  “Dammit, Gwen. I don’t want to work with anyone else and I don’t want to see you hurt. Is that clear enough?” He glared at her, obviously awaiting another sally from her side.

  Instead, she smiled briefly at him. “Thank you.” Not wanting to press him further at this time, Iceni shifted topics. “How are you planning to get Morgan into Ulindi?”

  “According to the last informat
ion we have from various star systems in this neighborhood, Ulindi has recruiters out trying to convince skilled workers to come there for jobs. Morgan will be sent to one of those star systems and mix in with a batch of workers headed for Ulindi.”

  “She can make that work?” Iceni asked, letting skepticism show. “Colonel Morgan has a rather prominent physical presence.”

  “She can make it work,” Drakon confirmed. “I’ve seen her do it. When Morgan wants to, she can damn near shapeshift to disguise herself.”

  “Are you sure that she’s human?” Iceni asked dryly.

  It wasn’t until his face tightened with anger again that she realized how he would know for certain the answer to her attempted joke. “Yes. Physically, she’s human.”

  Iceni looked away, annoyed that she had upset both Drakon and herself by getting on the topic of Morgan’s body. “Very well. I agree with your proposed course of action.” It was past time to get off this subject completely. “As for me, now that the Syndicate has been repulsed again, I’m going to have some more chats with our special guest.”

  Drakon made a face. “At least some of what Boyens told us was accurate.”

  “I’m wondering what else he might tell us.” Iceni cocked her head slightly toward Drakon. “Do you want to participate in the questioning?”

  “No, thanks. I don’t enjoy interrogations. If you have no objection, though, I’d like Colonel Malin to sit in on them.”

  “Colonel Malin?” Iceni pretended reluctance, then nodded. “All right. Is he good at interrogations?”

  “He’s very good at them,” Drakon said. “That’s one of the things he’s best at.” He walked toward the door. “I’ll notify Colonel Morgan of her new mission.”

  —

  MORGAN grinned at General Drakon when he entered her quarters. She was lounging in a chair, cocky and confident as ever. “When do you want me to leave?”

  “Leave?” he asked, feeling renewed anger at the sight of her and anger with himself at how he couldn’t help noticing how good she looked and the memories that brought to life.

  “For Ulindi.” Morgan stretched like a panther, lithe and dangerous, as she stood up. “That’s where I’m going, right?”