The Lost Stars (5 page)

“If he does flee,” Togo pointed out impassively, “then CEO Boyens will have to provide justifications for his superiors back on Prime explaining why he could not save this star system from the enigmas.”

“He's doubtless working on those excuses right now,” Iceni said scathingly. “Prime won't accept the impossible odds as a justification, especially since it looks like Boyens will have to claim he did all that he could but didn't suffer a single scratch fighting either us or the enigmas. But his excuses don't have to be valid. They just have to sound good. I understand Boyens and what he is doing well enough. But the enigmas. What are
they
doing?”

She glared at the display again as if it could be intimidated into providing the answer that Togo could not. The enigmas had proceeded in-system only thirty light-minutes from the jump point from Pele where they had arrived. The alien attack force had braked there, all two hundred twenty-two ships, and since that time had hung in orbit, unmoving relative to that jump point.

“What possible reason would they have for sitting there?” Iceni demanded. “We're at their mercy. They must know that.”

She shot to her feet and walked out of the office, ready to demand that someone in the command center provide an explanation for the inexplicable.

The first person Iceni's eyes locked on was General Drakon, standing talking in a small group that consisted of him, Colonel Malin, and Colonel Morgan.
Note to self,
Iceni thought as she concealed her reaction to seeing Morgan again.
If we survive this, have a long talk with Drakon about why he keeps that murderous bitch around. Loyalty to subordinates is one thing, and Togo has told me enough about how capable and deadly Morgan is to make it clear why Drakon values her, but the woman is borderline psychotic. I don't care if she got that way because of what the Syndicate did to her on that mission into enigma space. That's not my fault or my problem.

And she slept with that idiot male Drakon when he got too drunk to know better. I have no doubt that
she
knew what she was doing, though. What was her goal? That encounter has only ensured that Drakon won't risk any similar outcome again. What was Morgan after?

And why does it bother me so much to know that Drakon slept with her? Because it proves that even Drakon is just a foolish man at his core? Or because . . . ?

No. I know better. Mixing business and pleasure is a recipe for disaster.

Colonel Malin still wasn't giving any subtle warnings of danger for Iceni, and in the last day he had not used any of the available convoluted means of passing information to her. Either Drakon wasn't planning anything against her or he had kept Malin in the dark. Had he been doubled against her, passing information with Drakon's knowledge so that in a case such as this he could keep Iceni in the dark and lull her into complacency? Or were Malin's priorities his own?
What is your game, Colonel Malin?

She could never tell whether such worries were legitimate or a product of the Syndicate system in which she had grown up and been promoted. Paranoia made sense when lots of people were almost always out to get you. But it crippled you as well, which Iceni had realized was the intent. An environment built on distrust had hindered attempts to band together against the Syndicate leadership.

Drakon looked over at Iceni as she approached, a very brief smile flickering into existence before he extinguished
it.

Did the man actually
like
her? That was an intriguing thought.

“The enigmas are not going anywhere,” Iceni said without preamble, outwardly ignoring the presence of both Colonels Malin and Morgan, just as Drakon ignored Togo where he stood to the left and slightly behind Iceni. Togo had shifted position a bit as they came to a stop, ensuring that he had a clear shot at Morgan if she twitched in a threatening manner. Neither Drakon nor Iceni made any sign they had noticed that, either.

Drakon nodded in response to Iceni's statement, displaying frustration that matched her own. “I noticed. What's your guess?”

“I have none.”

“All I have is a wild estimate based on human behavior.” Drakon swung an angry hand toward the main display, where the images of the far-distant enigma ships were shown clearly. “If this were a human force, the only reason they wouldn't attack was if they had orders to wait for someone or something.”

“Waiting? For what?”

“I don't know. But if these guys were human, I'd assume they had orders not to attack until some exact time, or to wait until some CEO who wanted credit for the victory showed up, or until reinforcements they didn't need arrived.”

Iceni frowned as she looked at the display. “Those reasons would make sense. If the enigmas were human.”

“And I know they're not.” Drakon shrugged. “Maybe they're like us in that way, though.”

“It would be nice to think we're not the only intelligent species capable of such mindless behavior. There's nothing we can do even if they are being stupid, though,” Iceni said.

“We could attack,” Drakon replied with a sardonic grin.

“If they're waiting for that, they'll be waiting awhile. Kommodor Marphissa is still on her way toward the gas giant.”

“Where will she go after she picks up the other two cruisers?”

“I've ordered her to await further developments, to see someone else do something, so we know who to react
to.”

“Fair enough. What's going on with the battleship?”

It was Iceni's turn to shrug. “It stays where it is. For
now.”

“Why not get it out of the star system? It doesn't have any military use for
us.”

She sighed wearily. How long had it been since she had slept? “That battleship is, to the eyes of everyone watching, the strongest defensive asset this star system has. It still
looks
like a mighty warship even to those with access to sensors that tell them its weapons don't work. What happens if everyone watches it run away?”

Colonel Morgan gave her an appraising glance, as if surprised that Iceni had been astute enough to think of that. That condescending look gave Iceni one more reason to contemplate having Morgan murdered despite her agreement with Drakon not to carry out any unilateral assassinations. But a hit on an assistant that close to Drakon would create massive problems even if it could be carried out successfully. From all Iceni had heard, Morgan would not be easily eliminated even if Iceni chose to send Togo after
her.

“So we wait, too,” Drakon said. He didn't sound any happier about that than Iceni felt. “I've been wondering something about the enigmas.”

“If you're planning on asking me, I hope you don't expect me to know more than anyone else does.”

“It's a mobile forces question,” Drakon said, using the old Syndicate term for warships and pointing to the images of the enigma invaders. The alien craft were shaped much like turtles or tortoises, curved carapaces forming flattened hulls, the dark enigma armor glinting dully in the distant light of Midway's star. “I understand the curved armor. It deflects anything that hits it much better than a flat surface would, and it lacks stress junctions like corners and edges.”

His hand moved to indicate the shapes of the human warships shown elsewhere on the display, sharklike hulls varying from the slim Hunter-Killers and light cruisers to the beefier heavy cruisers. At the gas giant, the battleship
Midway
rested at the space dock like a much more massive, chunkier version of the heavy cruisers. “Why don't the enigmas have battleships?” Drakon continued. “Their largest ships aren't much bigger than our heavy cruisers.”

“Their ships are more maneuverable than ours,” Iceni replied. “And our least maneuverable ships are the battleships because of all the armor, shield generators, and weapons they carry. They're slow to accelerate and slow to brake and take a very wide radius to change vectors. That sort of sluggish ship may be incompatible with how the enigmas fight.”

“But what about battle cruisers?” Drakon asked. “Aren't those pretty maneuverable?”

“Yes. Very swift because they have the propulsion of a battleship but not nearly as much armor and significantly less weaponry and shield strength.” Iceni shook her head, looking at the enigma ships. “I don't know why the enigmas don't have anything as large as one of our battle cruisers. Maybe Black Jack found out the answer to that.”

Drakon's expression hardened. “While he was getting his fleet blown away and stirring up the enigmas to attack us again, you mean?”

She found herself defending the Alliance admiral despite how absurd the idea would have been less than a year ago. “We don't know if the enigmas would have come back anyway. And we don't know that Black Jack's fleet was destroyed.”

Malin frowned as he received a report over his link, then faced Drakon. “General, one of our satellites brushed against the edge of a tight-beam communication from this planet aimed toward the Syndicate flotilla.”

She should pretend to be focusing her suspicions elsewhere, but Iceni couldn't help herself. Her eyes went to Drakon, and found him looking at her.
Did you send that transmission?
their eyes challenged each other.

Drakon shook his head in answer to the unspoken question. “The snakes must still have agents active on this planet,” he said.

“Yes,” Iceni agreed. “The transmission did not originate from any source known to me. Did we get the origin of the beam localized?”

“No, Madam President,” Malin replied. “The contact was too fleeting, then the beam cut off. It was a burst transmission, so whoever it was could have sent an encyclopedia of information in the brief time it was active.”

“We should still be able to get some indication of where it came from,” Morgan insisted.

Malin gave her a bland look. “Initial analysis narrowed it down to this half of this hemisphere of this planet.”

“And I suppose you're happy with that level of incompetence?” Morgan said, her tone growing fiercer.

“I'm willing to accept real-world limitations but have no intention of being satisfied with this level of analysis,” Malin replied, maintaining that indifferent expression, doubtless knowing it would further provoke Morgan.

Drakon made a small gesture, and both colonels fell silent even though Morgan had clearly been ready to fire another verbal volley. “I want you two to check the data the satellite picked up. Do it independently and see if either of you can get a better idea of the signal's location of origin.”

Both officers saluted, Malin returning to a nearby terminal and Morgan walking quickly out of the command center.

“What?” Drakon asked, having noticed how Iceni was regarding
him.

“I watched how you handled that,” Iceni said. “I admit I wonder why you keep those two as assistants despite their unquestioned individual skills. But then I saw how you can use their rivalry. If anyone can narrow down the place where that signal originated, it will be one of those two because they're very good at what they do, and neither one wants the other to succeed where they have failed.”

“That's pretty much the idea,” Drakon agreed. “They also backstop me and each other. If there's a flaw in my plans or thinking, one of them will spot it and tell me before the other does. If one of them is missing something, the other will catch it. It makes for some drama, but they both know when to knock it
off.”

“Do they?” Iceni asked.

Perhaps something about her tone made it clear she was referring to Morgan because Drakon reddened slightly. “No one is perfect,” he muttered, before turning to study the main display intently.

Iceni wondered if he was talking about Morgan, himself, or her. Had Drakon's words been an oblique apology, a criticism of her, or a defiant defense of himself?

Why do I care? It's not like there aren't much more important things to worry about.

On the display, the Syndicate flotilla and the enigma attack force remained passive, giving no clues as to their intentions. It was very odd how hard it could be to deal with a lack of action.

TWENTY-ONE
hours after the arrival of the enigma force, new alerts sounded in the command center. On this part of the planet, it was nearly midnight, but Iceni took only moments to reach the main room, finding Drakon already there.

“What is it?” she asked, trying to reconcile the symbols appearing on the display with her own expectations. But those symbols stubbornly refused to make sense until Drakon suddenly laughed harshly.

“Your hero Black Jack is back.”

She blinked, the symbols abruptly reordering themselves in her mind and finally becoming clear. “The Alliance fleet. The enigmas didn't destroy it after
all.”

“They took out a big chunk of it,” Drakon growled, one hand waving toward the display. “All I'm seeing is battle cruisers, light cruisers, and destroyers, and those numbers are down from what Black Jack left here with.”

Iceni stared, her eyes running from totals to individual ship symbols. “None of the battleships? None of the heavy cruisers? The enigmas hurt that fleet badly.”

Drakon frowned. “How could a mobile force lose just the battleships and heavy cruisers in total?”

“If they needed to escape,” Iceni explained in a voice she could tell had gone cold, her memory conjuring up dark recollections of some events she had witnessed during her time serving with the Syndicate mobile forces. “The battleships are slower, but massive. They form a rear guard, holding off pursuit. In the worst case, they sacrifice themselves so swifter ships can escape to fight another day. I suppose the heavy cruisers stayed with the battleships.”

“Damn.” The one word from Drakon fell heavily, carrying a weight of meaning. “I know how that works in the ground forces. It's a very hard thing to demand of people, to tell them to fight to the death so others can get away.”