The Lost Stars: Perilous Shield tls-2

by Jack Campbell

  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.”

  “And his troops will follow his lead,” Malin said.

  Iceni’s eyes flickered toward Malin, a humorless smile barely bending her lips, her gaze appraising. It was the sort of look anyone below CEO rank in the Syndicate Worlds feared, the sort of assessment of an individual’s worth and attitude that could result in promotion but more often in demotion or even a sentence to a labor camp. “I am not your General, Colonel Malin. I am not nearly as forgiving of unruliness in my subordinates, even those who offer valuable suggestions. Keep that in mind when you speak to me.”

  Malin stiffened. “I understand and will comply, Madam President.”

  “Good.” Iceni walked off, raising her comm unit in one hand and speaking in a low voice, her personal privacy field once again blocking her words from being heard by anyone nearby.

  Drakon watched her go. Selling me down the river is the only card Gwen Iceni has to offer Boyens. But without me, she can’t hold on to this planet and this star system. She knows that. Maybe she doesn’t like that. Like me, she was trained by the Syndicate system not to depend on anyone else. Even if she doesn’t want to betray me, Iceni has to be considering her survival options right now. What if it comes down to her or me?

  Whatever Iceni might be planning could take hours to materialize, if she was planning anything, and his defensive measures against her had to take into account that he needed Gwen Iceni just as much as she needed him, and that she was very good at whatever she turned her mind to. The external threats that might trigger a desperate internal fight to survive between him and Iceni loomed large on the main display behind Malin. But it would be hours before either the powerful enigma fleet or the Syndicate flotilla commanded by CEO Boyens received Iceni’s messages as they crawled across the vast distances of space at the speed of light. Reactions or replies, if any, would take at least as long to be seen or heard. Time to make plans, time to prepare for action, time to worry about the plans your partner might be making and actions your partner might be preparing for. Time for the citizens to realize just how bad things were, and react with the panic or fury the Syndicate system expected of the mob, or with the resolve and reliability that he and Iceni hoped to create by offering more individual responsibility for the workers. Time for missteps and misunderstandings among supposed friends and allies to cause as much or more damage than deliberate malice.

  Friends and allies. Drakon saw Iceni watching the display, revealing for a brief, unguarded moment a grim anxiety as she stared not at the enigma fleet nor the Syndicate flotilla but at the depiction of the Midway Flotilla. The warships upon which Iceni’s power rested. “Colonel Malin, can you come up with any possible scenarios where the warships of the Midway Flotilla will survive even if the rest of us somehow manage to pull through?”

  Malin paused for only a moment, then shook his head. “Barring a miracle, there’s only one, sir. If they flee for an unguarded jump point. No one, ourselves included, could stop them.”

  “And the officers and workers on those ships surely know that.”

  “Yes, sir. As does Kommodor Marphissa. She is too capable not to be aware of her certain fate if her ships do not run for safety.”

  “So, even if we somehow survive, those warships will not, unless they run for it. They’re doomed if they stay.” Iceni would lose her shield against the hammer of Drakon’s ground forces, would lose her power to bargain with him and Boyens.

  “Yes, but if the warships flee,” Malin said, “our fates will become certain. Any chance of bluffing the enigmas into leaving, any chance of dealing with CEO Boyens, will disappear with them. Either they commit to die fighting a hopeless battle or they run to save themselves and ensure that we die.”

  If Marphissa had been a Syndicate CEO, Drakon knew what he would have expected her to do. There wasn’t any profit in hopeless battles. But, if they stayed, and with Marphissa knowing how vital her choices had become to Iceni’s survival, what price might someone trained in the Syndicate system demand in exchange for the warships’ almost certain sacrifice?

  No wonder Iceni was watching the depiction of her warships with dour intensity, as if anticipating the worst.

  A sharp tone announced a high-priority call arriving. “Kommodor Marphissa wishes to speak with you, Madam President,” the comm specialist announced.

  CHAPTER TWO

  “MADAM President,” Kommodor Asima Marphissa said with the same exaggerated formality as if she were speaking at a funeral service. “There is no need to explain the options before us.”

  “No,” Iceni replied, trying not to reveal in her words or expression the icy ball in the pit of her stomach as she waited for Marphissa to either openly betray her or demand a huge price for continued loyalty. She had not left the command center and knew that Drakon was also watching from a slight distance even though he could not hear her conversation. “What is that you want?”

  Since Marphissa’s flagship (former Syndicate Worlds heavy cruiser C-448 now renamed Manticore) was in orbit near this planet, there was no noticeable delay time in the transmission. However, Marphissa paused as if reluctant to speak.

  The first giant betrayal is the hardest, Iceni thought bitterly. Don’t worry, girl. They get easier as time goes on. But the Kommodor’s next words were not those Iceni had expected.

  “I request permission to proceed with the flotilla to join up with the two heavy cruisers at the mobile forces facility orbiting the gas giant.”

  “What purpose would that serve?” Iceni asked, now trying to hide her surprise. Moving toward the gas giant at the current point in its orbit would take Marph
issa and her ships considerably closer to the enigmas but only marginally closer to Boyens and his flotilla.

  “To defend the star system,” Marphissa explained. “To defend the people.”

  Iceni shook her head, as much in puzzlement as in disagreement. That woman rose to executive rank in the Syndicate system. She must have learned how to negotiate better than that. “Let me put it more plainly, Kommodor. I ask again, what do you want?”

  “To combine my forces, Madam President.”

  “Even combined, your forces are inadequate to deal with the threat from either opponent in this star system!” If she wanted to acquire the other two heavy cruisers, she could just order them to join her en route to one of the jump points. Why won’t she lay out her demands?

  But Kommodor Marphissa just nodded in agreement. “Yes, Madam President. That is correct. We cannot hope to defeat either the enigma armada nor the Syndicate flotilla. But, if my forces are combined, I will have a better chance of striking some damaging blows at them before my warships are destroyed. We will fight as long as we can.”

  Iceni felt herself hesitating this time, thrown off-balance by the completely unexpected. Not demands, and not a kiss of death, but an offer to sacrifice yourself? It’s not just words with you? You truly believe in what you are doing? “Kommodor,” Iceni said, determined to bring everything out into the open, “you are aware that I cannot force you to take such an action. You are also aware that other options exist.”

  Marphissa’s image nodded again. “Of course they do, Madam President.”

  “Then why would you stay to fight, Kommodor?” Iceni demanded.

  “For the people, Madam President.”