The Lost Stars (3 page)

Drakon narrowed his eyes at Malin. “I imagine the Taroans would agree to just about any wording, to just about anything, in order to get their hands on that battleship.”

“And then, rather than drag their heels, they would bend every effort to get the battleship completed and ready to fight as soon as possible,” Malin agreed.

Iceni eyed them both, her eyes now hooded. “An interesting suggestion. We tie Taroa closer to us by playing on Taroa's desire for that battleship. Taroa invests the necessary resources into getting the battleship operational, thereby saving us the costs and effort. We gain a nearby ally who is even more grateful to us and committed to providing substantial support with a battleship that will be ready far sooner than if we try to do it all ourselves. A
very
interesting suggestion, Colonel. What if Taroa decides to betray
us?”

Malin smiled. “We have complete access to the ship and will retain some access while it is being finished. There are many safeguards that can be covertly installed in the ship and its systems to ensure that any attempt to use it against us fails.”

Their quiet discussion was interrupted by the subdued chime of an alert from the system display. “There's a shuttle lifting from this planet,” one of the console operators reported. On the display, a symbol appeared with a graceful arc showing its projected path up into orbit. “It's not a scheduled lift, and all facilities were informed that lifts are not to occur during this alert period unless authorized from here.”

Iceni's eyes hardened. “Who is aboard this shuttle?”

“They are reporting a routine cargo lift, normal crew, no passengers,” another operator replied.

“A routine lift? When routine lifts have been ordered suspended?” Before Iceni could ask anything else, Togo had appeared again by her side.

“A regional governor cannot be accounted for,” Togo said dispassionately. “Neither can his mistress. An industrial executive and her boyfriend are also not able to be located using planetary surveillance systems.”

“Governor Beadal?” Iceni asked in a voice grown cold.

“Yes, Madam President. Perhaps he became aware of the investigations closing in on him, or perhaps he simply seeks to flee the enigmas despite orders for all executives to remain in place. The industrial executive is Magira Fillis, heavy construction office.”

“She won't be missed.” Iceni had her eyes on the track of the shuttle as it strained to clear atmosphere. “And Regional Governor Beadal's failures as an administrator leave me no reason to overlook his petty corruption and violation of a directive from me. But I hate to lose a shuttle.”

Colonel Malin spoke up. “It's not ours. The shuttle is from one of the merchant ships in orbit. The ship is flagged to the Xavandi Group, but the executive in command of the freighter claims that it has gone rogue and is operating independently.”

Iceni's gaze sharpened into that of a predator eyeing prey. “I never liked the CEOs heading up the Xavandi Group. It would be just like them to have a ship trading in violation of Syndicate government restrictions but pretending to be no longer answering to their control so they could pull in the profits but deny breaking government rules. I won't regret losing
their
shuttle. General?”

Drakon gave her a glance, wondering for a moment at the question. Assuming Iceni was right about that freighter, Xavandi Group wasn't that different from a lot of other Syndicate conglomerates. And the two executives riding on that shuttle weren't all that different from the worst of the Syndicate corporate weasels that Drakon had encountered in his time. “If you want to destroy the shuttle, you don't have to ask
me.”

“We reached an agreement a few hours ago,” Iceni said, her voice brisk and businesslike as she discussed destroying the shuttle and the people on it. She had cut in the privacy field again to keep her words from being heard by anyone but Drakon. “No more assassinations of any kind unless we both agree. Arguably, this could be considered an assassination since the governor and executive involved will get neither chances to surrender nor trials.”

Trials in the Syndicate system were just formalities to give a veneer of legitimacy to predetermined outcomes, but sometimes deals would be offered. Not this time. “Colonel Malin has already reported to me about Regional Governor Beadal's activities,” Drakon said. “Some of his games caused supply trouble for one of my units.” He hadn't heard anything about the industrial executive sharing Beadal's shuttle and wouldn't admit to that lack of knowledge, but Fallis's choice of companion was a pretty clear sign that she would have also been firing-squad bait at some point even if she hadn't tried to run. “We won't miss the shuttle.”

“I'm glad we are in agreement,” Iceni said, cutting off the privacy field. “Do I need to order one of the warships in orbit to deal with that shuttle?”

“No. Ground forces can handle it easily. Colonel Malin, order orbital defenses to eliminate that shuttle.”

“Yes, sir.” Malin entered three commands.
Target. Confirm. Fire.

Somewhere else on the planet, a ground-based battery of particle beams locked onto the shuttle. Ground-based weapons could be very potent because of the amount of power they could draw on, but their range was still limited by the realities of space. The distances in space were so huge that the beams of the weapons spread over distance, the power being spread out as well, so that warships more than a few light-minutes distant could take the hits on their shields without much worry. But if anyone wanted to try landing on a planet, or wanted to conduct a precise bombardment from orbit, they would have to confront some nasty defenses. Since Midway had been facing the enigma threat for nearly a century now, its orbital defenses were substantially better than those of an average world.

The cargo shuttle still clawing its way toward orbit had weak shields, no armor, and was still inside atmosphere when the particle-beam battery fired. Multiple spears of charged particles tore the shuttle into pieces which flowered outward from the point of impact to fall back toward the vast oceans of the planet below. Those inside the shuttle never knew what had killed them.

But everyone on the planet would have been watching the shuttle lift and would know its fate.

“That should be the last attempt to flee positions of responsibility,” Iceni said in a voice that carried through the command center. “I want every ship in this star system to be informed that if they change orbits or trajectories without specific approval from this command center or Kommodor Marphissa, that will be the last action they take.”

“Yes, Madam President,” the senior operations specialist in the command center replied, turning to immediately pass on that warning.

Iceni spoke to Togo in a quieter voice. “Ensure the investigation of Governor Beadal is continued. He is dead, but I want to know who else was working with him on his little schemes.”

Drakon watched Togo leave again. He wondered if the mistress and the boyfriend had been aware of the risks they were running. Most likely, since there would have had to be a wild scramble to get to the shuttle. No one who had worked and lived under the Syndicate system could have been oblivious to the danger of disobeying a directive for executives to remain in place. The bribe offered to the shuttle pilot and crew must have been substantial to get them to risk a lift, but no one would be cashing any of those checks.

“Now that the distraction is dealt with, let's deal with the larger issues,” Iceni said. “Communications. Give me a tight beam aimed at the path of the enigma force. I don't want CEO Boyens to also pick up the transmission and learn what we're saying to the enigmas.”

“Madam CEO—” one of the specialists began out of long habit, then hastily checked himself. “Madam
President
. The beam will have to be directed to the point where the enigmas will be hours from now. But if the enigmas change their vectors significantly in the meantime, they will not be in the path of a tight beam. We can use a wider beam, which will offer a much higher chance that the enigma force will receive it, but keep it narrow enough that it will have no chance of being intercepted by the flotilla near the hypernet gate.”

Iceni bent a stern look on the specialist while Drakon watched to see how she would handle this. For many CEOs, the only thing that counted was obedience. Suggestions for improvements on CEO orders could also be seen as criticisms of the original order. From what Drakon had seen of Kommodor Marphissa, promoted to her current position by Iceni, the President was willing to accept a rather high degree of independent thought in her subordinates. But was that simply because Marphissa had come from executive ranks or because she was a favorite of Iceni's?

“Your suggestion,” Iceni began while specialists waited tensely throughout the command center, “is a good one. I appreciate such support when it is properly offered. Use the wider beam.”

Moments later, the transmission ready to begin, Iceni activated the command and spoke to the alien invaders with clipped precision. “To those who have entered this star system without the authorization or approval of those who control this space, this is President Iceni. You are to leave. This is not your star. Go now. If you do not go, we will take any action needed to destroy you. The hypernet gate is here. We can make it destroy everything here. You cannot stop this. Go now. If we cannot defeat you by other means, we will destroy you along with ourselves. Go now. For the people, Iceni,
out.”

“I know they communicate with us in our own language, but how much do they really understand of statements like that?” Drakon asked.

“I don't know. No one does. But that's the sort of talking they do when communicating with us over video links using human-appearing avatars.” Iceni breathed a small laugh. “Maybe Black Jack has learned how much the enigmas really understand human concepts. If he's not dead. Now, let's make our offer to CEO Boyens.”

This time the beam was directed toward the flotilla hovering near the hypernet gate. “CEO Boyens, you have seen that we face a mutual enemy. You must stand with us. Together, we have a chance to turn away this attack on a human-occupied star system. If you assist in this matter, if you avoid offensive action against our forces while the enigmas are here and act as if coordinating your forces with ours, we will agree to surrender to you this star system and everything in it intact after the enigmas are convinced to leave. If you do not assist, your own mission here is certain to fail. Work with us against a mutual enemy for our mutual benefit. For the people, Iceni,
out.”

She shrugged as that transmission ended. “I doubt that he will agree, but asking can't make things any worse.”

The atmosphere in the command center had changed, taking on a new level of tension. Drakon glanced at Colonel Malin, who subtly tilted his head toward the nearest specialists.
Of course. They just heard Iceni offering a deal to hand this star system back to the Syndicate Worlds. That couldn't be helped, but we can reassure our workers, who would all probably rather face total destruction to bring down the enigmas than accept having the snakes return.

“If Boyens does fall for it,” Drakon said, speaking loudly enough that the nearest specialists who were listening-without-seeming-to could just hear, “we'll arrange things so the enigmas hit Boyens instead of our own forces. Once we've eliminated the enigmas we'll turn on whatever's left of the Syndicate flotilla and crush
it.”

Iceni kept her puzzlement at his open admission of their probable (if so unlikely to succeed as to be delusional) course of action from showing on her face, but her eyes questioned him before going to the nearby workers and lighting with understanding. “Yes, of course,” Iceni agreed. “If CEO Boyens is desperate enough to accept our offer, we'll destroy him as soon as he lets his guard down. The snakes of the Syndicate Internal Security Service will not ever again control the fates of the people of this star system.”

Their performance must have quelled some of the anxiety inside the command center. Drakon heard a low buzz of conversation that held none of the rising fears that could have touched off riot or revolt among the workers.

“I have the awful feeling that they might trust us,” Iceni remarked in a very low voice which held amusement mingled with disbelief as she looked at the workers.

“You'd think they'd know better,” Drakon commented, hearing a bitterness in his own voice that he had not anticipated.

Malin edged closer to speak quietly. “They know what they have seen of your actions. Do not assume they are stupid. Assume that, like all other people, they are often ruled by self-interest. You got rid of the snakes. You have granted them more freedom. You have shown concern for them.”

“Have we?” Iceni asked. “Your officer is prone to odd notions, General.”

“He's often right,” Drakon said.

“Which is why you instinctively leap to his defense?” Iceni eyed Drakon, her look challenging. “You have a habit of doing that with your executives and your workers, don't you, General?”

“It's what works for me,” Drakon growled in reply, wondering if Iceni was now going to issue even more pointed criticism of his un-Syndicate-like behavior.
Of course she won't approve of my methods. Just about every other CEO I've met feels the same. And it still ticks me off. I get better results than they do. How dare they criticize my way of getting the job done?

But whatever Iceni's opinions might be remained hidden behind her eyes. She was good at that, too. Instead, Iceni simply nodded. “It's what got you sent to Midway and nearly got you executed by the snakes, General. Some might wonder at that sort of management record.”

“I'm not a manager,” Drakon said with more heat than he had intended. “I am a leader.”