The Lost Stars (11 page)

For a bare instant a trace of powerful emotion flashed in Malin's eyes, but the instant passed, and Drakon couldn't be sure what he had seen. Pain? That didn't make sense. Anger? Maybe. Frustration. Of course. Malin had probably spent long hours searching for any tiny bit of information that would condemn Morgan, and his inability to find such incriminating evidence must have caused him considerable disappointment.

Malin's voice came out as controlled as it usually did. “No, sir. What has she done
now?”

“Nothing since her little show in the command center.” Drakon rubbed his eyes, then looked back at Malin. “Is our information accurate? Is there any chance what we know of Morgan might be wrong?”

“No, sir. I am absolutely certain of the accuracy of what you know of Colonel Morgan.”

“I know how you feel about her, so I'm going to ask this directly. Do you think there is any possibility at all that Morgan is working for the snakes?”

This time it was easy to see the exact emotion in Malin. Surprise. “No, sir. I can't imagine— She
does
hate them,
sir.”

“More than she hates
you?”

Malin's smile was wan. “I doubt it, General. I am keeping an eye on Colonel Morgan.”

And she's keeping an eye on you. We're all keeping an eye on each other. How the hell do we get anything else done?
“Thank you, Bran. Make sure President Iceni's people know that the snake agent is to be kept alive. I want you to get custody of that agent and put her in a maximum-security setting with a few apparent holes in the security.”

This time Malin smiled with understanding. “And complete surveillance of the holes so we can see who tries to use them. Yes, sir. I'll get it done right away.”

PRESIDENT
Iceni put on her best smile. That was a bit easier to do now that she had left the command center and returned to her own governing complex. Being on familiar ground, at her own desk, was a welcome thing after the tense days spent waiting for the enigmas to destroy them all. “Admiral Geary, I want to express my personal thanks for your actions in defending all of human-occupied space and the Midway Star System from renewed attack by the enigma race.”

Now for the delicate part. “Midway continues to recognize its obligations under the treaties made with the Syndicate government on Prime,” Iceni continued. “However, since we are now an independent star system, there will be a need to renegotiate agreements. I assure you that we seek agreements that will mutually benefit us and the Alliance, and do not anticipate any problems reaching such agreements.”
There. Keep it short and a little vague. Don't say anything that sounds like groveling or threatening. CEO Boyens still has a flotilla hanging near the hypernet gate, and the last thing I need is to make Black Jack upset. But I can't have him taking me for granted, either.
“For the people, Iceni,
out.”

Iceni rubbed the back of her neck, trying to relax tense muscles. “Make sure a copy of that goes to General Drakon so he knows I'm not communicating with Black Jack behind his back,” she instructed Togo. “Notify me the moment a reply comes
in.”

“Yes, Madam President.”

“Nothing has come in from CEO Boyens?”

“No, Madam President. One of the light cruisers is on its way to be able to intercept tight-beam transmissions between the Syndicate flotilla and the Alliance flagship, but will not be in position for another hour.”

She glowered at the display showing the light cruiser apparently creeping toward an orbit between the forces of Black Jack and Boyens. The display indicated the warship was actually moving at point two light speed, impressive by even space-travel standards.
I could berate Kommodor Marphissa about how long it is taking, but I know full well that her forces were tied up in chasing the enigmas by my orders. Not that such facts would have held back some of the CEOs I have had the misfortune to work for. But I did learn from such screamers that far from motivating people, such tactics usually cause them to slow down either out of resentment or fear. I hope Marphissa appreciates my restraint.

“The ambassador from Taroa is waiting to see you,” Togo said.

“Send him
in.”

Taroa, like other star systems that had revolted against the Syndicate, had suffered some serious attrition of older, more experienced officials. Some of those officials were dead, some had managed to flee, and others were in prison. The ambassador was one of the new officials, a former academic who had been rapidly boosted into high rank because of personal connections with the new government.

At least he knew that official protocol required visits like this to be in person.

Iceni smiled politely and gestured the ambassador to a seat, watching as he warily sat down and gazed back at her with the evident nervousness a more experienced official would have concealed. Iceni had been a CEO before retitling herself President; Syndicate citizens learned not to look CEOs in the eye, and a lifetime of habits died hard even for newly minted ambassadors. “You have received our offer?” Iceni asked.

The ambassador nodded. “Yes, Madam President. It appears to be . . . extremely generous.”

“And you're wondering what the catch
is?”

Her candor surprised him, setting the new ambassador off-balance, which had been what she intended.

“If you wish me to be blunt—” the Taroan ambassador began.

“Please. It saves time.”

He smiled hesitantly. “You are offering us partial ownership of the main orbiting facility once more, as well as the battleship under construction there, and are asking only for certain mutual-defense agreements in exchange.”

Iceni smiled back, broadcasting confidence and artificial candor. “You undervalue the importance to us of those agreements. Battleships we can get. We've already acquired two. But dependable allies in a region of space where threats may come from anywhere at any time is another and far harder thing to find. Midway can't stand alone, even with all of the advantages we get from our jump points and the hypernet gate. Taroa can't stand alone, either. We were happy to help Taroa throw off the yoke of the Syndicate.” It never hurt to toss in an explicit reminder of what Midway had done for the Free Taroans. “Together, with the resources of two star systems, we can much better defend ourselves, and even launch expeditions if necessary to help other star systems.”

The ambassador nodded eagerly, giving away how much he wanted this deal to go through. “Yes. I'm certain that my government will understand that. No one wants to be reconquered by the Syndicate. Perhaps Kane could use help?”

The latest reports from Kane spoke of ongoing chaos, with dozens of small groups competing for control after the total collapse of Syndicate authority and subsequent failure of several weak successor governments. “Kane would be a dangerous place to intervene,” Iceni said. “If Taroa wants that, we can talk about it. But my people believe that Kane is very likely to fracture into several competing governments within the star system. I am inclined to let that process shake out a little more before we commit our own, limited resources there.”

“I understand, Madam President. Forgive me, but I need to be certain. Your offer is made on behalf of both you and General Drakon?”

“That's correct. You need to emphasize to your government that we cannot wait forever for an answer. If we get close enough to finishing that battleship in Taroa on our own, we won't require Taroa's assistance with that anymore.”

“Yes, Madam President. I will emphasize the need for quick action.”

“Thank you,” Iceni said, her tone making clear that the meeting was over. The ambassador left, beaming with happiness at the offered agreement, which he would surely claim credit for negotiating.

Iceni gestured to Togo. “Get me an updated report on our agents of influence in Taroa. I want to ensure we have enough agents in the right positions to get that agreement approved without delay, and without too many questions about how much authority Midway will have under that agreement over military forces belonging to Taroa. Coordinate with Drakon's staff to ensure the agents reporting to his people have the same instructions. I want those instructions sent to Taroa on the same ship that carries the offer.”

“Yes, Madam President. In order to ensure the rapid approval of the agreement by the Taroan government, it may be necessary to expend more in bribes than previously budgeted.”

Iceni's smile this time was wry. “Perhaps not. I'm finding that bribing elected officials can be significantly cheaper than bribing appointed bureaucrats. The bureaucrats have a much clearer understanding of their value. But extra payments are authorized if needed. We can't afford to depend on Black Jack for defense of this star system.” Colonel Malin deserved an under-the-table bonus for suggesting the agreement in the first place, but he would probably refuse it. Whatever Malin's motivations were, they didn't include a desire for wealth.

The reply from Black Jack to her message came six hours later, about as fast as it could have arrived given that the Alliance fleet, which had reassembled into a single massive formation, now orbited nearly three light-hours from the planet on which Iceni was located. Black Jack didn't look particularly triumphant. In fact, he looked about as overworked as Iceni felt.
I don't envy him being the most powerful person in human-occupied space. What do you do with that kind of power if you have a brain and a conscience?
Tired or not, his uniform looked immaculate.
He must have a very good assistant making certain he looks his best—

Assistant? Or someone a bit closer than that? There have been rumors . . .

“This is Admiral Geary,” Black Jack said. “I will leave negotiations on such matters to the two emissaries of the Alliance government who we have with us. They will be contacting you soon for that purpose. Of immediate concern, my auxiliaries are very low on raw materials. I would like your agreement for them to mine some of the asteroids in this star system for such materials so that we can begin to repair the battle damage suffered here.

“Please pass on to Kommodor Marphissa my personal appreciation for the efforts of her and her ships in working with us for the defense of this star system. They fought well. To the honor of our ancestors, Geary,
out.”

Iceni spent a moment considering her reply.

“He needs the raw materials badly,” Togo said. Having arrived a few minutes earlier to deliver to Iceni an intercepted and decoded copy of the Taroan ambassador's highly secret message to his government about the defense agreement, Togo had been standing silently nearby. Now he spoke diffidently. “Black Jack would not have asked otherwise. Not in a Syndicate star system.”

“We are no longer a Syndicate star system,” Iceni replied.

“In their minds, we are, Madam President.” It was impossible to tell from Togo's expression, or his voice, what he thought of that. “We have also had time to analyze the damage apparent on the Alliance warships. They have seen serious combat and have plainly needed extensive repair. He needs these materials.”

“What are you suggesting?”

“A business transaction to our benefit, Madam President. We can bargain for profits that will enhance your stature and the security of your position.”

Iceni considered that, too.
The idea is tempting. I have leverage to demand concessions and other things.

Tempting.

Like bait for a trap?

Does Black Jack really need those raw materials that badly? He's going home, after all, and he has an immense amount of firepower. Even if those repair ships of his are riding empty, they could snag an asteroid in any star system they pass through without asking permission or offering payment.

He could do that here. He could take what he wants. He could simply say “you owe me this,” and we could not object.

Instead, Black Jack, with overwhelming force at his back,
asks
.

Oh, you cunning master of misdirection, you. You want me to take the bait. To see what I do when given the chance to weasel and bargain and act like the very model of a Syndicate CEO. That's how he defeated us time and again, I suspect. Let us think we had the upper hand, then . . .

“We cannot afford to underestimate Black Jack,” Iceni said.

“Madam President?”

“He wants us to bargain with him when we think he is in a position of weakness. He wants to see if we go for his throat at the first opportunity. We look at him and think he is just a simple sailor, making a straightforward request. Could someone like that have destroyed the mobile forces of the Syndicate Worlds? And then he distracts me with praise for Kommodor Marphissa, a very clever bit of manipulation designed to make him appear open and aboveboard. Black Jack is actually setting out a snare so carefully concealed that it could easily have tripped us
up.”

Surprise appeared on Togo's face for a moment. “Forgive me. I did not appreciate how devious Black Jack can
be.”

“But now we know. I'll give him what he wants. Graciously. Without bargaining.” Iceni smiled grimly. “He'll know that he's dealing with someone smart enough to avoid his traps.”

“Yes, Madam President.” Togo raised a hand slightly. “We should ensure that whatever the Alliance does is coordinated with the space-resource-extraction authorities. That will enable us to monitor exactly what is done under the pretext of following standard procedures.”

“Excellent idea. You tell the extraction authorities that they'll be hearing from the Alliance fleet soon and that they are to oblige the Alliance requests without hesitation.” She sent a cheerful reply to Black Jack, granting him permission to mine, then forwarded the last part of his message to Marphissa, along with her congratulations.