The Lost Stars: Perilous Shield tls-2

by Jack Campbell

  “That said, we have no idea what has happened. There are no indications that our own gate is suffering any problems or malfunctions. We have closely monitored it for any signs of software or hardware sabotage, especially during the period when CEO Boyens’s flotilla was in this star system.

  “If you discover anything, or find any anomalies in the operation of the gate, we would be grateful if you would provide us with that information. For the people. Iceni, out.”

  As she gazed at the small display above the desk, it occurred to her that if Black Jack had departed as scheduled, the bomb aimed at her would have gone off either just after his fleet left this star system or so close to that time that news of the event could not have reached Black Jack before his fleet entered the hypernet gate. Whoever did that did not want Black Jack to know. That tells me something very important—that Black Jack was not involved.

  The big question now was what to do. Strike back? Syndicate etiquette called for an equivalent response, which would mean an attempt to put an end to Drakon.

  Iceni kept her eyes on the display, but she wasn’t seeing the play of ships through the star system anymore. What am I feeling? Disappointment. No, something more than that.

  How could Drakon have done such a thing? Or, if he didn’t order the attempt, let someone like that insane Morgan go after me? They should have known that even if the plot succeeded the military-tagged explosives would point—

  Her eyes refocused. So did her brain.

  Yes. They should have known. Get a grip, Gwen. Would Drakon or one of his close staff, people with access to commercial explosives, people who overran and control the snakes’ old headquarters facilities and so must have access to snake explosives, use military explosives that would clearly implicate them?

  I must be getting old. Why did it take me so long to spot that?

  She sat back, thinking, running through every fact, every event. After several minutes, Iceni keyed in a comm address. “General Drakon, I need to speak with you. Alone. Not at the command center. I have learned that at least some of the supposedly secure rooms here have been compromised.”

  Drakon watched her, his eyes questioning. Concerned. She could tell he was worried, but his next words caught her off guard. “Are you all right?”

  His first question was about her? She was what he was concerned about? Iceni’s mind floundered for a moment, surprised. “I’m fine. Where do you want to meet? We need somewhere new, somewhere secure, where no one would have expected us to meet.”

  “There’s only one place I know of that fits that description, but you might not want to go there.”

  “Tell me.”

  DRAKON waited at the entrance to the office once occupied by CEO Hardrad, former head of the Internal Security Service in the Midway Star System. The snake headquarters complex had been badly shot up when Drakon’s troops took the heavily fortified building, but Hardrad’s office deep inside it bore only one sign of the fate of both CEO Hardrad and the snakes on this planet. On one wall, behind Hardrad’s former desk, stains were still visible, marking where Hardrad had been standing when Colonel Morgan put a bullet through his head.

  Iceni arrived with a couple of bodyguards, whom she told to wait outside before entering. She looked around, grimacing. “I have no fond memories of this room.”

  “Me, neither,” Drakon agreed, gesturing to Colonel Malin to close the door and remain outside. “But the one place on this planet guaranteed to be without recording or listening devices is this office.”

  “Ironic, isn’t it?” Iceni said. She glanced at the desk and Hardrad’s former chair, shook her head, then sat down in one of the comfortable chairs arrayed about a small table to one side of the office. “The snakes bugged every place they could except the office of their boss.”

  “Snake CEOs don’t want anyone to know what they’ve done, or ordered,” Drakon observed, taking a seat opposite Iceni. “What happened?”

  She eyed him for a few seconds before replying. “Someone tried to kill me. Or someone tried to make it look like someone tried to kill me.”

  Drakon’s face went cold and hard. Inside, he felt the same way. “An assassination attempt? Aimed at you?”

  “There was a biometric trigger on the bomb.”

  He could feel warmth rushing to his face now, anger replacing the coldness. “I’ll— Hold on. You said someone might have tried to make it look like an assassination attempt?”

  “Possibly.” Iceni watched him, looking puzzled. “You are a dilemma, General. Let me be frank. The bomb aimed at me contained military-tagged directional explosives.”

  “What?” She kept throwing revelations at him, and it was taking time to absorb each new one. “Military-tagged?” The implications hit, and his anger grew. “Someone tried to implicate me in it? Someone wanted you to think I authorized that?”

  “You didn’t?” “No!”

  The vehemence of his reply surprised him, but Iceni just gazed back at him speculatively. “What about members of your staff? Someone close to you?”

  “Absolutely not,” Drakon said. “You mean Colonel Morgan, don’t you?”

  “Among other possibilities.”

  “It wasn’t Morgan,” Drakon said, “because if it had been her, you would be dead. How did the bomb get spotted?”

  “Someone detected it before I sat down.”

  “Lucky they were behind the desk.”

  Iceni paused. “Why do you say that?” Her voice sounded a bit too calm, too controlled as she asked the question.

  “You said it used directional explosives,” Drakon explained. “The trigger would only have been scanning in the direction the explosives would strike.”

  “Yes,” Iceni agreed. “So the trigger could only be detected in that direction? Interesting.”

  Drakon gave her a demanding look. “Why?”

  She watched him again for a while before replying. He wished he could hear the thoughts behind Iceni’s eyes.

  Suddenly, Iceni made a small movement that caused a compact but very lethal and powerful weapon to appear in her hand. “You know that I could kill you right now.”

  “I know that you could try. You must know that I have the same sort of defenses.”

  “Yes.” Another twitch and the weapon disappeared into concealment again. “Why didn’t you tense when I displayed my weapon?”

  Drakon gestured toward her face. “I was watching your eyes, not the weapon. When someone intends using a weapon, you can read it in the eyes first. You didn’t have the look.”

  “I’ll have to work on that. I thought maybe you . . . trusted me. My experience in life,” Iceni said, “everything I have learned while climbing to the rank of CEO in the Syndicate, tells me to trust no one. There is only one person in this star system who I can be certain is not working against me.”

  He started to smile, only to stop as she continued.

  “That person is the Alliance liaison officer. I know she is not a snake. I know she is not working for you, or for any other faction in this star system, or for anyone in any nearby star system.”

  “You think she doesn’t have any agendas?” Drakon challenged, his voice harsh.

  “I know she does. And I know those agendas should correspond to mine.”

  “Really? Are you ready for those free-and-open elections the Alliance always boasts about?”

  Iceni didn’t answer immediately, instead sitting back and running one hand through her hair as she looked to the side. “You brought that up before. The citizens seem to be content with the bones we’re throwing them,” she finally said.

  “I assume you’ve seen the same reports that I have,” Drakon said, pushing his point. “Some elements are already dissatisfied, already pushing for elections for all positions up to and including yours.”

  Her eyes went back to him, challenging this time. “But not yours.”

  “Because I don’t fill that kind of job. But those elements of the citizens expect me to obe
y whomever they elect to your job. I’m not thrilled at the idea,” Drakon added. “At some point, we’ll have to confront those citizens. That means keeping the majority of the citizens on our side and the majority of the elected offices on our side. I understand what that means. So do you. That Alliance officer? Very likely not.”

  Iceni nodded, her eyes still on him. “You’re right. What are you telling me, Artur?”

  “I’m telling you that the reason we decided to work together in the first place is still valid. If we’re going to survive, if we’re going to win, we need to work as a team.” I don’t know why I want her to believe that so badly, but I do. Anyway, it’s true. Alone, either one of us will be toast.

  She finally smiled. “I wanted to hear you say that. I agree with you, but I wanted to know that you still understood what we’re facing. But does everyone else understand? Everyone who works for us?”

  “No.” There wasn’t any sense in beating around the bush. “Not for me, anyway.”

  “Not for me, either.” Iceni stood up, then reached a hand toward him. “Is there anyone you trust in this star system?”

  He had to think carefully before answering, then stood as well and very briefly grasped her offered hand. “Yes.”

  He knew Iceni was waiting to hear more before they both headed for the door, but, still smarting from her statement that she could only trust the Alliance liaison officer, Drakon said nothing else.

  BLACK Jack’s fleet had departed but had left something behind that required Drakon’s personal presence in the main orbiting facility. The Syndicate citizens who had been captured and kept imprisoned by the alien enigma race had all chosen to stay at Midway, all three hundred and thirty-three of them. Black Jack had offered them eighteen, but at the critical moment, when the former prisoners would have been separated from each other, the rest of the group had changed their minds. It was the sort of thing you would expect from people suffering the effects of long imprisonment together. But now they were all free, and they were all coming here. They knew nothing about the enigmas, but their presence at Midway would still be a diplomatic coup of sorts.

  Drakon sat alone in the passenger compartment of a military shuttle as it rose above the atmosphere. The large display at the front of the compartment was set for a split screen, one half looking upward to endless dark and endless stars, the other half down to where white clouds drifted above vast expanses of water broken by chains of islands and a couple of small island-continents. He had a sensation of being suspended between extremes, a feeling that his own decisions and actions could keep him here, balanced between the heavens and a living world, or propel him down to a fiery reentry or up to be lost in the cold dark.

  The urgent chime of his comm unit provided a welcome interruption to the disturbing reverie. “What’s up?” he asked as the image of Colonel Malin appeared. “Is President Iceni going to be delayed?” Iceni was taking her own shuttle up. While the public image of them riding together might have helped cement the citizens’ view of Drakon and Iceni as co-rulers working in what passed for harmony under a Syndicate definition of the term, the risk of having two extremely lucrative targets in one vehicle had been judged far too great. Besides, accidents did happen. Real accidents, as opposed to the sort of accidents that conveniently removed rivals.

  “No, sir,” Malin replied. “The President’s shuttle has lifted. But we have an interesting development. A freighter arrived at the hypernet gate a few hours ago. It came from Taniwah.”

  He started to dismiss the news as inconsequential, then stared at Malin. “Taniwah? Not Sobek? You’re certain?”

  “Yes, sir. When the freighter showed up, Kommodor Marphissa ordered Kraken to approach the gate and search for destinations. Every known gate in the Syndicate Worlds hypernet, except those like Kalixa, which were previously destroyed, was listed as an option.”

  Drakon sat back, rubbing his chin. “We’ve got access to the entire hypernet again. The CEOs on Prime didn’t destroy the Syndicate hypernet.”

  “No, sir. What they did do was somehow temporarily block access to any gate except Sobek for any ship or ships leaving here.”

  “I didn’t know that was possible.”

  “It’s not supposed to be possible,” Malin replied. “We don’t know how to do it. However, we have to assume that Prime now knows how to do it.”

  “Wonderful. Where did you get this information?”

  “It was forwarded to us from the planetary command center by order of President Iceni, General.”

  “What are the chances that our spies in Syndicate space can find out how to work that trick with the hypernet, and maybe how to counter it?”

  “I will send instructions to our sources in Syndicate-controlled space,” Malin said. “But since the instructions must go along with routine freighter movements that will take circuitous routes to avoid the official Syndicate blockade of us, it will take some time for those instructions to be received, and I do not know whether any of our sources can achieve the access needed to get that information. The Syndicate is certain to be holding it in the most-highly-classified channels.”

  “What about our techs? Can they come up with the answer now that they know it can be done?”

  “They have been notified, General. I understand that President Iceni has made that research a priority.”

  “Good. Thank you.” As Malin’s image vanished, Drakon turned his gaze back to the display at the front of the compartment, where the stars and the surface of the planet offered their visions of opposing but equally dire fates.

  THE buzz of conversation among the main orbiting facility workers and family members who had gathered to view the arrival of those who had been captured by the enigmas rose as Drakon walked into view. He did his best to look casual, stopping to speak with the soldiers who were providing security in the shuttle-dock area for the event. “How does it feel?” he asked the major in charge of the guard force. “Do you have enough troops on hand?”

  “The citizens are excited, General,” the major replied. “No anxiety, no sense of trouble brewing, though. No one thinks we’re hiding anything. We’ve got plenty of soldiers here if something unexpected happens.”

  Drakon nodded, his eyes on the hatch through which the liberated prisoners would come. “I don’t know about you, Major, but I’m discovering that it’s sort of nice to be on the same side as the citizens.”

  The major grinned, as did the soldiers within earshot. “Yes, sir. Instead of doing the dirty work for the snakes and the CEOs, we’re working for the people. I could get used to that.”

  “It’s a welcome change, isn’t it?” These soldiers, and many others, had been used for security details often in the past. The snakes wouldn’t deign to dirty their hands with routine crowd control, or riot suppression, or other “mass internal security” actions, so the CEOs would order regular troops to do the disagreeable tasks.

  But as Drakon took in the attitudes of his soldiers, saw that they stood and reacted toward the crowd as if they were part of it rather than a separate force to control it, he wondered what would happen if orders were given to use force against this crowd or any other. Iceni had said that she and Drakon still had the ability to use force to control the citizens, but looking at the situation here and now, Drakon wondered if that was still true.

  I’ll check with my brigade commanders for their impressions when I get back to the surface. First, this operation has to be done right. “Stay alert when the prisoners start coming out,” Drakon ordered. “There was some trouble when they were picked up by our shuttles.”

  The major’s smile faded into a frown. “The Alliance?”

  “No. Apparently the Alliance treated them well. The trouble was because these citizens have been imprisoned by the enigmas. They’re fragile.”

  “Oh, yes, sir. Like someone out of a labor camp? I’ll pass the word.”

  The background drone of conversation rose to a roar as Gwen Iceni walked onto the dock, wav
ing to the citizens behind the security barricades. “I-cen-eh! I-cen-eh!” the crowds chanted between cheers.

  Drakon walked to meet her. “You’re popular,” he observed.

  She eyed him, unexpectedly smiled, then grabbed his hand with one of hers and raised both high while turning to face the crowds full on. Drakon felt uncomfortable as the cheers redoubled and he heard cries of “Dra-kon!” and “the General!” mixed with the adulation for Iceni.

  “I don’t trust it,” he muttered to Iceni, as she lowered her arm and released his hand.

  “The hero worship from the mob?” she asked. “You’re right not to trust it. It can shift like the weather, and they’d be howling for our blood instead of chanting our names worshipfully. It was a good idea to meet up here together. It lets everyone see us doing something jointly, as a team.”

  “Maybe we should look for anyone who appears unhappy at that,” Drakon commented.

  “That’s not a bad idea.” She spoke into her personal comm. “My security detail will do a software search of security-camera imagery for discontented expressions.”

  “Where are your bodyguards?”

  “If the need arises for them, you’ll see them.” She smiled. “Yours?”

  “I’ve got soldiers on hand.”

  “Do you know of any specific threats?”

  “No,” Drakon replied. “That bothers me. Somebody should be mouthing off, somebody should be getting drunk and boasting about what he or she would do someday, somebody who hates the CEOs should be planning to hit us because of our past. And then there’s the hidden snake agents out there. Why aren’t I hearing anything? Somebody went after you.”

  “True. We can’t let our guards down, and the lack of reported threats to either of us is odd. We’re going to have to worry about threats to Captain Bradamont now as well. She will be coming off the ship first. We need our citizens to see this Alliance officer as a friend. How better to do so than by having her release to us the prisoners liberated by Black Jack?”