The Lost Stars: Imperfect Sword

by Jack Campbell

  Things were quiet here, despite the impossible-to-eliminate rumors among the military and the civilians. Morgan had confirmed the state of Haris’s forces, so they knew exactly what they would be facing in Ulindi. And Ulindi did have to be dealt with, despite the inevitable risks of any military operations, and despite the problems they would face rounding up enough freighters modified for carrying troops and attaching temporary air locks and shuttle clamps to them so that the two brigades could get to Ulindi and hit the ground hard and fast.

  It all seemed pretty simple.

  He had to be missing something.

  “WHO are you planning on leaving here?” Iceni asked. She had that look she got when she was facing a necessary choice that she would prefer not to have to deal with.

  “Colonel Rogero,” Drakon replied, having learned not to string out answers when Iceni felt that way. This being a meeting at which critical decisions were being made, it was being carried out in person to avoid the chance of someone’s tapping in to any comm link. He had come to her office for that meeting, as he usually did, and wondered if she was even noticing that concession to her. Not that he was going to bring that up. With Gwen Iceni sitting less than three meters away, he had no interest in antagonizing her.

  “Rogero?” She paused, thinking, then gave him a keen look. “People are going to think he’s my favorite.”

  “He is, isn’t he?”

  “As ground forces brigade commanders of yours go, yes,” Iceni said enigmatically. “Is that why you chose him to remain?”

  “Partly.” Drakon nodded toward the star display. “Colonel Kai is as steady as a rock and absolutely dependable.”

  “That sounds like he would be the best choice to leave here,” Iceni commented.

  “Yes, but he’s deliberate.”

  “Slow, you mean,” Iceni said.

  “He can be,” Drakon conceded. “You can count on him absolutely, but he might take a while to act when quick action is necessary. I can get him moving faster, but you might not be able to.”

  “You think quick action might be necessary?” Iceni sat back, her gaze on him intent.

  “I don’t know.” Drakon made an irritated chopping motion with one hand. “I don’t know of any threat. But if something did happen, if Colonel Kai were the ground forces commander here, he might take too long to react. His temperament is best suited to being along on this operation.”

  Iceni watched him for several seconds, then nodded. “So, not Kai.”

  “That leaves Colonel Gaiene. I know your opinion of him, but if I thought he was best for this, I’d be urging you to accept his remaining behind. He’s not the best, though. He raises hell anywhere he is, which is good on a battlefield and not so good in garrison.”

  “None of our subordinates are perfect,” Iceni said, looking off to one side as she spoke. “But I would prefer not having to depend on a ground forces commander who might be drunk and in the wrong bed when he is needed.”

  “Which leaves Rogero, who would be a damned good choice regardless.”

  “And,” Iceni added dryly, “if you leave Colonel Rogero behind, you won’t have Captain Bradamont upset at you.”

  “She’s among those I wouldn’t want upset at me,” Drakon agreed, giving Iceni a look that drew a small smile from her. “I was uncertain whether you’d want her to accompany the flotilla going to Ulindi, though.”

  “No,” Iceni said. “I sounded out Bradamont on the matter. She was concerned that her participation in an offensive operation by us might violate her orders. I think she would do it if I said pretty please, because taking out Haris is really a defensive offensive operation, but this is something Kommodor Marphissa should be able to handle easily, and with her gone from Midway, I’d like Bradamont here backstopping Kapitans Kontos and Mercia.”

  “That seems prudent,” Drakon agreed.

  “I’m glad you approve.”

  “Gwen, are you unhappy with this operation? I’ve done planning, but that’s it. I can write that off to contingency thinking. We can postpone hitting Ulindi or call it off completely. Haris is a problem, but he’s not an imminent threat.”

  She made a face, looking downward. “I suppose I’m not hiding it very well. Yes, I’m unhappy with this operation, but if you asked me to list reasons not to go ahead with it, I would be hard-pressed to give you any, and I agree with the reasons why we need to eliminate the threat posed by Haris without waiting for things to get worse. I also agree that the level of arrests and executions at Ulindi indicate that Haris feels weak and is taking desperate measures to shore up his position. What happens to your Colonel Morgan if we called it off?”

  “I can get word to Morgan to get herself out of Ulindi. She’ll be able to do it.”

  “Unfortunately, you’re probably right.” Iceni sighed, running one hand through her hair.

  “There is also the consideration,” Drakon said, “of what happens to Ulindi if we don’t go ahead with this, but Haris gets downsized by local opposition and someone loyal to the Syndicate hands Ulindi back to the CEOs on Prime.”

  “Too many worries. There are always too many. We never have time to lay one completely to rest before others occupy our attention.” She took a deep breath and looked at him, her expression hardening. “If this operation goes well, and if your Colonel Morgan survives, we will need to talk once you return.”

  “About Colonel Morgan?” He watched her nod, then nodded in reply. “I understand.”

  “Do you? She betrayed you, Artur. She used her position close to you to exploit you when you were at your most vulnerable in order to further her own plans. I happen to agree with you that Colonel Morgan is a tremendously capable individual. She’s also crazier than a loon. That’s a very dangerous combination.”

  “Believe me, I know.”

  “Then why—” She bit off the question before saying it.

  But he knew what it would have been. “Because I was drunk and depressed and stupid.”

  His candor didn’t seem to mollify Iceni. “I hope the experience was worth the trouble it has caused us.”

  “To be perfectly honest,” Drakon said, “though when the hell are people like you and me perfectly honest? But the truth is I don’t really remember it. I was seriously drunk.”

  “You slept with Colonel Morgan and you don’t remember any of it?” For the first time during this conversation, Iceni seemed genuinely amused. “Maybe there is some form of cosmic justice.”

  Drakon felt some irritation at that. “I hope you realize by now that it never would have happened if I hadn’t been that drunk.”

  “Is that an excuse?” Iceni asked.

  “No. I don’t have any excuse. It was a terrible personal and professional failure on my part.”

  Something, either the words or the way he said them, finally made Iceni show some limited signs of relenting. “All right. We will talk more about her, about what to do about her, if she gets back. I already told you I was going to send Kommodor Marphissa to command the warships. I’m going to give her two heavy cruisers, two light cruisers, and four Hunter-Killers. That will leave a decent though still-inadequate force to defend this star system, and should offer you a very comfortable margin of superiority over Haris’s mobile forces, as well as a small but adequate bombardment capability to support your landing.”

  Drakon nodded. “I won’t deny that I’d love to have the battle cruiser as well.”

  “Oh? Are you regretting that gift to me already?”

  It took him a moment to realize that Iceni was teasing him. She must be feeling better. “No. You know how to use it a lot better than I do, and I know that Midway needs to be protected while the other warships are gone. Then we’re agreed? We’re going to get the ball rolling?”

  Iceni once more took a few seconds to answer, gazing at the star display, unreadable thoughts moving behind her eyes. “Do you remember when this started? When the primary thing worrying you and me at this point would be the fear
that when one of us was out of the star system the other would stab them in the back?”

  “That’s not what’s worrying you?” he asked.

  She paused again, for a long time, then spoke in a rush. “No. What’s worrying me is not having you here.”

  Drakon gave her a puzzled frown. “You’re worried about what I’ll do while I’m not here?”

  “No! I— Forget it! Forget I said anything until we resolve the issue of that colonel. Yes. Let’s get the ball rolling. The sooner we get rid of Supreme CEO Haris, the better.”

  —

  TOGO, as deferential and discreet as ever, waited for her to take notice of him.

  Iceni closed out the document she was reviewing and looked at him. “Is there a problem?”

  “I was asked to ensure that you were aware of the costs involved in the freighter modifications requested by the ground forces,” Togo said.

  “I have seen the estimates and approved them. This is an assault operation. The ground forces have to bring a lot of shuttles along and have the means to quickly load the soldiers from the freighters into the shuttles.”

  “I understand, Madam President, but the finance directorate—”

  “Why am I explaining and justifying my decisions to you or to the finance directorate?” Iceni snapped. She didn’t have to feign being unhappy to give more force to her words. “I’m aware of our current financial situation. The finance directorate should be aware that a defense support payment from Taroa is scheduled to arrive this month.”

  “The cost of the mobile forces continues to escalate—” Togo began.

  “If you know a way to keep the Syndicate from reconquering this star system without us maintaining a strong force of warships, I would be very pleased to hear it.” Iceni rested her chin on one fist as she glared at Togo. “Mehmet, you have been a valuable assistant. A very valuable assistant, who as far as I can tell has been happy in his job. But I have a growing sense that you are unhappy with your current situation.”

  Even Togo couldn’t hear that question from her without revealing some surprise and worry. Questions from CEOs about whether you were happy with your current situation were, in the Syndicate, often precursors to suggestions that your resignation would be a smart move, suggestions that were in fact orders. “Madam President, I have no complaints. I have been honored to serve you and wish to continue doing so.”

  “And I wish that you would continue to serve as my special assistant,” Iceni said. “But I must be confident that you are committed to that job.”

  “I could not be more strongly committed,” Togo said.

  Iceni didn’t bother checking the readouts on her desk that would tell her whether or not Togo was lying. She knew that he could defeat the sensors designed to detect such things. Such talents, among others, made him extremely valuable, but they also made him a source for worry. “I am pleased to hear that,” she said. “Have you been able to identify any previously undetected snake agents, or sources for the rumors that continue to keep the citizens on edge?”

  “No, Madam President. I will find them.”

  Iceni paused, frowning, then looked at Togo again. “Could you take Colonel Morgan if you were ordered to dispose of her? I don’t want boasting or overconfidence. I want the most accurate estimate you can give me.”

  It was hard to tell which emotion Togo was suppressing this time. A smile? Maybe.

  “Madam President,” Togo said, pronouncing each word with slow precision, “if I am allowed to choose the time, place, and circumstances, there would be no doubt of the outcome. If any variables are introduced, they would reduce my chances, but I cannot conceive of any scenario in which my odds of success would not be at least two to one. You need only give me the order—”

  “I am not giving you such an order. Is that clear? I am considering contingencies.” Iceni leaned forward, arms on her desk, emphasizing each word. “What I need most at this moment is to know who is trying to stir up the citizens. I want names, and I want to know who they are working for. Get that for me, and get it as soon as possible.”

  Togo nodded, not revealing his feelings about the assignment. “It will be done, Madam President.”

  “What about that mob operation diverting manufacturing output to the black market? Are we ready to shut that down?”

  “Whenever you give the order, Madam President. However,” Togo added in his most diplomatic tone of voice, “recent changes to the legal system will complicate inflicting the appropriate punishments for all guilty parties.”

  Iceni felt her lips twist into a darkly amused smile as she gazed back at Togo. “I have developed an interest in wanting only those parties actually guilty of something to be punished.”

  “They are all certainly guilty of something,” Togo argued.

  “Then there should not be too much difficulty in ensuring they are found guilty and punished,” Iceni said. “The changes to our legal system are, so far, fairly minor compared to those that have existed elsewhere and currently exist in the Alliance. Have you ever wondered why the Syndicate suffers from such high levels of corruption and crime when it assigns such strong penalties and guarantees convictions of anyone even suspected of wrongdoing?”

  “People are inherently corrupt,” Togo said, both face and voice impassive.

  “Are they? I used to be as certain as you are. Now I want to know more.” She leaned forward again, eyes on Togo. “Because if that’s wrong, then any actions based on an erroneous assessment are likely to be wrong as well, or at least far less efficient than they should be. I don’t want anyone making the mistake of assuming that I am going soft. My goal is to make certain that the right people are caught, and that the right people are punished in ways that reinforce my authority. In the past, my enemies could be fairly confident that they knew what I would do and how I would do it. Now they cannot be confident of what I will do or what methods I will employ.”

  Togo blinked. “I . . . understand, Madam President. My apologies for underestimating your subtlety and cunning.”

  “You’re a lucky man,” Iceni told him. “Most of the people who learned not to underestimate me found out their error too late to save themselves. Tell the police to move ahead on busting the black-market operation. I want to see how that is handled under the changes to the legal system. After that, stop by the finance directorate and inform them that, if there is any further delay in approving payments for those freighter modifications, I will choose some executives from the directorate at random to accompany General Drakon’s ground forces during their assault. I’m sure the general can use a few special volunteers to spearhead his attacks.”

  —

  COLONEL Roh Morgan, wearing the suit of a junior executive fifth class in the Syndicate ground forces, sat nursing a drink in one of the Junior Executive Break Networking Universal Training Personal Improvement Limited Refreshment Facilities inside the primary ground forces base on Ulindi. Like any Syndicate-designed military base, it was heavily fortified, prepared to withstand attack not only from the Alliance but also from the citizens of the planet if those citizens should be so foolish as to stage a rebellion. That had made it a little harder for Morgan to infiltrate, but with the snakes and other security forces combing the city itself for her, no one had spent much time checking the identification documents of a nondescript junior executive who was entering the base.

  While Syndicate bureaucrats had over the decades added on one after another officially approved descriptive terms for what was essentially a blandly decorated bar that could also be used as a meeting room, those bureaucrats had adamantly refused to add on a single comma to the name. Since no one who actually used the facilities used the official name, instead just calling it the Jebnut, nobody actually worried about the odd lack of commas.

  Jebnuts tended to be inadequately lighted, because the Syndicate used the terms “efficiently” and “cost-effective” where others might have thought “insufficiently” and “least-expensive” w
ere the more appropriate words. However, the dim lighting suited junior executives who wanted to nap during mandatory “voluntary,” “informal” training sessions, and now suited Morgan well as she did her best to fade into the background. No one was likely to take notice of one more junior executive of the lowest salary grade who had no visible distinguishing characteristics. Morgan had taken a table against a wall and was once again wearing a combination of makeup and small facial prosthetics that combined with a slightly-too-large version of the standard junior executive fifth class suit rendered her appearance completely unremarkable. Having dealt with countless come-ons in bars and restaurants, Morgan had also perfected the ability to generate a “leave me alone” aura that effectively repelled any mammalian life-form except cats.

  A booth a few tables down from her was occupied by several ground forces executives on lunch break from their duties at headquarters. Morgan didn’t expect to hear any major secrets because no one with any brains spilled major secrets in a Syndicate facility that was surely being monitored by the snakes, but a lot could be learned from routine talk among people who dealt with so many classified items that they no longer could tell what really mattered.

  “It’s off-limits,” one of them was telling the others. “Sealed off.”

  “Any idea why? We don’t have people deployed to that training area,” another asked.

  “Maybe the . . . you know . . . security. Maybe they’re using it.”

  “The Supreme CEO’s people? Maybe.”

  “Then maybe we better talk about something else.”

  There was a pause, then someone else started talking. “Did you hear about the comm stand-down? If you’ve got anything that needs to go out, better get it sent.”

  “Stand-down? What are they standing down?”

  “Everything. There’s some check of systems going to be carried out looking for unauthorized taps and security effectiveness and all that junk. It’s no secret. But everything will be silenced for seventy-two hours. Landlines, networks, over-the-air junk, everything.”