The Lost Stars (23 page)

Morgan was pretending to examine her knife, testing the edge. “Where did these People's Weird guys get the weapons they used to try to kill
us?”

“You think there was a deal?” Drakon asked.

“Yes, sir.” Morgan balanced her knife, its point on her forefinger tip. “Somebody offered them the weapons to kill you in return for their agreeing to also take out the Alliance . . . woman.”

“That could be so,” Malin agreed.

“Or,” Morgan continued, “they planned to take out the woman in addition to you to make it look like an anti-Alliance hit that just happened to take you in as well.”

Malin glanced at Drakon. “Sir, I think we do have to assume you were both targets until we learn more.”

“Where were you, anyway?” Morgan asked, flipping her knife in one hand and catching it by the hilt.

“I was running down leads about the snakes, per General Drakon's orders.”

Drakon nodded. “I knew where he was. Colonel Malin is not a suspect.”

“What about our President and her hatchet man Togo?”

“I don't believe that President Iceni was involved,” Drakon said.

“With all due respect, sir,” Morgan said, “
don't believe
isn't the same as knowing.”

“I'm aware of that.” He must have made that statement with extra force because Morgan raised an eyebrow at him. “Colonel Malin, I want you to check on any possible connection between the President's staff and the attempt to kill Colonel Morgan and
me.”

“General?” Morgan said, her tone playful again. “What if they targeted you and me knowing it was me? Who would want to do that?” She smiled at Malin.

“Do you have any proof?” Drakon said.

“Not
yet.”

“Nothing happens to anyone until you get proof, show me the proof, and get clear, unequivocal orders about what to do. Is that clear, Colonel Morgan?”

“Yes, sir.” She sat up, her eyes still on Malin, the knife now unmoving in her hand. “I'll get proof.”

ICENI
watched Captain Bradamont enter the room and stand before the long table behind which she and Drakon sat. Bradamont was on unfamiliar terrain, but she looked and acted as if she were in the most well-known and secure of environments.
She is a dangerous woman. Is that all the code name Mantis referred to, or is there more that I haven't seen yet?
“Kommodor Marphissa has proposed that we undertake a long and hazardous mission. She said she did so on the basis of your information and recommendations,” Iceni said.

“That is correct,” Bradamont replied.

“I won't play games with you, Captain. You know your presence here is valuable to us. You also surely know that your presence here creates some problems for
us.”

“That was made very clear to me soon after I arrived,” Bradamont said, her eyes going to General Drakon where he sat next to Iceni. “I am sorry for the deaths that occurred in what might have been an attempted attack on
me.”

Iceni made a short, angry gesture. “The motives, and targets, involved in that attack are still being investigated. But the incident does highlight our most critical concern. We cannot afford to be seen as lackeys to Admiral Geary.”

“Admiral Geary knows nothing of this proposal, Madam President.”

“You are talking about what we know. I am talking about what others will perceive.” Iceni tapped her data pad. “I have gone through Kommodor Marphissa's proposal. She makes a good case for the benefits that could accrue to us from recovering the survivors of the Reserve Flotilla. She pays less attention to the potential risks, however.”

Bradamont shook her head slightly. “I have not seen the proposal myself. I don't deny there are risks involved. There are ways to minimize those risks.”

“Yes, I know.” Iceni kept her expression nonrevealing as she turned to glance at the readout. “The Kommodor proposes to minimize the risks by taking two heavy cruisers, half of what we have, plus four light cruisers and six Hunter-Killers. Plus six freighters. Twelve warships and their crews, as well as the Kommodor commanding the flotilla that defends this star system. This is a huge investment for
us.”

“The return, Madam President, would be even larger,” Bradamont said. “Admiral Geary asked me to suggest anything that could strengthen the defenses of this star system. You need those trained personnel, Madam President.”

Iceni wagged one remonstrative forefinger at Bradamont. “Never tell someone in charge what they
need
, Captain. I'll decide what I need. I do admit there is a strong case to be made for the benefits to be gained from recovering those personnel. However, if they return to find this star system reconquered by the Syndicate, we will gain no benefits at
all.”

“Do you wish me to speak bluntly, Madam President?”

Iceni leaned back, smiling tightly. “Please
do.”

Bradamont nodded toward Iceni's data pad. “Your entire force of warships is insufficient to defend this star system if the Syndicate Worlds sends another flotilla of the same strength as that CEO Boyens came here with. The one thing that will place you in a decent defensive position is your battleship, but only when it is completely outfitted, all of the weapons operational, and is properly crewed. You can outfit that ship, you can get the weapons operational, but can you find enough trained personnel to crew
her?”

Drakon, who had seemed to be understandably preoccupied since the attempt on his life the day before, bent a glance Iceni's way. He didn't have to say anything. Drakon's look clearly told her
this is your call, not mine
.

“Captain Bradamont,” Iceni said, “you know the threats any force from Midway would face as it went to Alliance space and returned. Yet we cannot possibly risk sending more of our very limited numbers of warships than Kommodor Marphissa has already proposed. We need to maintain a warship presence here in case someone other than the Syndicate tries something. What do we have that might balance the odds for the flotilla we send on this proposed mission?”

Bradamont frowned as she considered the question. “Kommodor Marphissa has displayed skill as a combat commander, Madam President.”

“Can she command a force as well as Black Jack?”

“No,
but—”

“How much experience does Kommodor Marphissa have with Black Jack's ways of fighting? His tactics? His ways of gaining victory under even unfavorable circumstances?”

Bradamont shook her head. “She does not have any of those things, Madam President. We have discussed them a bit, but there wasn't time for extensive training.”

“But
you
do have that experience and that training,” Iceni said.

Bradamont finally showed uncertainty. Out of the corner of her eye, Iceni could see Drakon trying not to smile at her reaction. They had already talked this out, and it had been Drakon's suggestion that had tilted Iceni toward her decision. “Your orders,” Iceni continued, “are to assist us as you believe appropriate. Do you, Captain Bradamont, consider assisting in the successful pickup and return of the prisoners from Varandal as falling within that mandate?”

“Madam President, your warships will not operate under my command. The crews won't accept it. I had proof of that aboard
Manticore
.”

“Did I say you would command? I said
assist
. I will approve this proposal only if you, Captain Bradamont, agree to accompany my ships, not as commander but as adviser in matters tactical and political. Your mere physical presence accompanying the mission, a captain of the Alliance fleet, may be of great value. Your presence at Atalia and Varandal could be decisive in ensuring that our freighters are allowed access to Alliance space and successfully recover the survivors from the Reserve Flotilla.”

Bradamont paused, thinking, then nodded. “I agree with your reasoning, Madam President, and I believe this form of assistance falls within the orders given to me by Admiral Geary. I will accompany the mission.”

“Good,” Iceni said, a little disappointed at how easily she had been able to maneuver Bradamont into agreement. But then, the Alliance captain was a fleet officer, not an Alliance politician, and certainly not someone as cunning as Black Jack. “Prepare to leave immediately.”

“Immediately?” Bradamont's gaze went from Iceni to Drakon. “The freighters will need to be prepared.”

“The freighters are standing by,” Drakon said. “We have six that were modified to carry troops when we assisted Taroa in its revolt against the Syndicate. We got back from that mission not long before the Syndicate flotilla showed up here, followed by the enigmas, then Black Jack, so we kept the freighters in orbit to use if we needed to evacuate some of the citizens.”

“I haven't enjoyed having unused assets boring holes in space and through my budget while we waited to see if we needed them,” Iceni added. “But now they will come in very handy. It is critical that we get this operation moving fast. My technicians are of the opinion that the blocking of the Syndicate hypernet that Black Jack encountered does indeed shut down access to the gates affected. That means they can't be used by the Syndicate, either, when they're blocked. The Syndicate would only employ such a device in very specific circumstances for limited times because of the economic and military impact. But if they learn that we are planning this operation, they might again block our hypernet access to frustrate our attempt to gain thousands of trained mobile forces personnel.”

Drakon spoke up. “We'll be sending soldiers along for security aboard the freighters after you pick up the Reserve Flotilla personnel. We don't know if any snakes are among those captured personnel. We don't know how many of those personnel will be more loyal to the Syndicate government than to the idea of joining us. It should be a minority, maybe a small minority, but we can't have them in a position where some of them could seize control of one or more freighters. The ground forces personnel will be commanded by an officer of sufficient seniority to deal with any matters that arise.”

Drakon paused as Bradamont's eyes fixed on him. “That officer will be Colonel Rogero.”

Bradamont smiled ruefully and shook her head. “I have too little experience in negotiating with Syndics.”

“We're not Syndicate anymore, Captain,” Drakon said, “which is why I will also tell you that you'll be on one of the heavy cruisers along with the Kommodor, and Colonel Rogero will be on one of the freighters. Until you reach Atalia. Then you'll transfer to Colonel Rogero's ship.”

“So near yet so far?” Bradamont asked. “You don't need to send Colonel Rogero, General. I already agreed to
go.”

“Rogero's going,” Drakon said. “Because he's the best officer for the mission and because I know you and he can work together to get this done.”

Iceni nodded. “That was General Drakon's judgment, and I have agreed with his reasoning. The fact that you have proven your ability to work with Kommodor Marphissa is also a factor in my decision. Do you have any questions? No? If there is anything you feel is needed for this mission to succeed that you do not have, inform me or General Drakon personally. Now, I have one question for you that does not pertain to this mission. When Black Jack first came to this star system he gave his rank as fleet admiral. It has been brought to my attention,” she added with a sidelong look at Drakon, “that he has consistently referred to himself as admiral and worn an Alliance admiral's insignia during the last two times he was here. Are you aware of the circumstances behind the use of a lower rank by Black Jack?”

“Everyone in the fleet knows that, Madam President,” Bradamont replied. “He was a fleet admiral during the final campaign of the war with the Syndicate Worlds, but his current rank is admiral.”

“Which is a lower rank than fleet admiral?” Iceni pressed. “Captain Bradamont, why is Black Jack using a lower rank than he did when his fleet first repelled the enigmas from this star system?”

“He reverted to captain when we returned to Alliance space after that engagement, then he was promoted back to admiral.”

“Why?” Iceni asked, not bothering to hide her bafflement.

“I don't know all of the reasons, but I know the reversion to captain rank was at least partly a personal matter.”

“A personal matter?”

“Captain Desjani,” Bradamont said, as if that explained everything.

“Who is?” Iceni prompted.

“Geary's wife. Captain Tanya Desjani.” Bradamont looked from Iceni to Drakon. “You hadn't heard? I assumed Syndic intelligence would have learned that. It's no secret in Alliance space. Not at
all.”

Iceni stared at Bradamont. “We are a long ways from Alliance space, Captain Bradamont, and Syndicate intelligence isn't in the habit of forwarding reports to star systems in rebellion. Admiral Geary was interested in a subordinate? And instead of just sleeping with her, he accepted a lower rank to legitimize
it?”

Bradamont's expression didn't change, but her posture stiffened. “Regulations in the Alliance fleet do not permit relations between officers and their subordinates in the chain of command.”

“We have similar rules,” Iceni said, openly amused. “Those with power don't need to pay attention to them.”

She noticed that Drakon didn't quite avoid a flinch at that.
Feeling guilty about your drunken roll in the hay with that crazy female Morgan at Taroa, General? You
should
feel guilty. Or are you just afraid that I'll learn about it, not knowing I already have?

“Admiral Geary behaved with honor,” Bradamont replied. “He is a man of honor as our ancestors understood it. Admiral Geary and Captain Desjani followed the rules and regulations of the fleet and acted honorably.”

“I see. Thank you, Captain. Once you've been escorted back to General Drakon's headquarters, get in touch with Colonel Rogero. He'll work you into the troop lifts up to the freighters.”