The Lost Stars 01-Tarnished Knight

by Jack Campbell

  She laughed very softly at the memory, drawing a brief glance from Executive Marphissa walking beside her. “What would you do, Executive, if you stumbled across a major smuggling and tax-evasion scheme that seemed to have no senior CEO involvement?”

  Marphissa frowned. “I’d report it, of course. There’d be rewards for whoever did that.”

  “You would think so,” Iceni replied, “except that in fact a very senior CEO at Prime had her fingers deeply into that scheme, and she wasn’t happy at all to lose the income it had generated.”

  “That’s how you ended up at Midway, Madam CEO?” Marphissa asked.

  “That’s how I ended up at Midway. Promoted to senior CEO of a star system facing an unknown foe and as far from anything as any star in Syndicate space as a ‘reward,’ while the other CEO went on to bigger and better things on Prime.” Iceni grinned. “She was there when Black Jack showed up again with the Alliance fleet.”

  “How tragic for her,” Marphissa commented. “I ended up here because I had a brother who was accused of treason by a sub-CEO who wanted his position.”

  Iceni had already known that, of course, but the records available to her had left one gap. “Did the sub-CEO also encounter Black Jack’s fleet?”

  “No. He died just before I transferred. An unfortunate accident.”

  Iceni raised one eyebrow at her. “How tragic for him. And just before you left. An accident, you say?”

  Executive Marphissa’s expression remained professionally detached. “The official investigation determined that his death had been accidental.”

  “Accidents do happen.” So Marphissa had managed to avenge herself without being caught, which implied that the executive had some skill sets that could be very useful for Iceni. Marphissa had also made a point of subtly letting Iceni know that. I need to keep my eye on this one. She has a lot of promise. “But I don’t like being surprised by accidents.”

  “If I know of any accidents that might occur, I will be sure to inform the CEO in a timely manner.” Marphissa glanced at her. “There are many uncertainties in battles fought with mobile forces, though, and sometimes surprises. How much command experience do you have in space, Madam CEO?”

  “Some time with the mobile forces. Perhaps seven years total. It’s been five years since I commanded a flotilla, though.” Her control of this ship, of the entire situation, rested on her ability to appear to be the best, most competent, and most believable leader in this star system. But something told Iceni that Marphissa was not the sort of subordinate to be easily fooled by a confident demeanor.

  “That’s something,” Marphissa said. “Enough to know what to expect. And you will not be alone on the bridge.” She faded back as they reached the bridge, letting Akiri and Iceni enter before her.

  The cruiser’s bridge felt a bit cramped after the D-class battle cruiser she had last employed as a flagship. Sub-CEO Akiri rapped out orders as he walked to his command seat. “Assume modified battle-alert status. CEO Iceni has assumed direct command of all mobile forces.”

  “Do we have status reports from the rest of the mobile forces?” Iceni demanded, taking her seat in the position next to the commanding officer’s place as her bodyguard assumed a station near the entrance to the bridge. It had taken considerable effort to accumulate the flotilla in this star system even though it was but a pale shadow of the old Reserve Flotilla that had once protected the region. But she had concocted plausible reasons to hang on to mobile forces that were supposed to go to missions elsewhere, had convinced a few mobile forces passing through to remain, and had ceased using Hunter-Killers as couriers back to Prime once it became clear that Prime wasn’t returning any mobile forces the central government got its hands on. It had taken a combination of ruthless use of her authority, more than a little bluffing, and occasional orders “lost” after they arrived in the star system but before they reached the mobile forces. But once the recall order for the entire flotilla came through, something impossible to lose the way lesser communications had been made to vanish, both she and Drakon had realized that they had to move before Kolani became aware of it even if the other orders for Hardrad hadn’t already forced their hands.

  The fruits of her labors were six heavy cruisers including the one she was now aboard, five light cruisers, and a pitiful twelve Hunter-Killers. That entire flotilla would have been lost in the fleet Black Jack had once again brought through this star system not long ago. But measured against what was available to the Syndicate government or any other local authorities in this region of space, the flotilla might be enough to protect this star system.

  If she could both win a fight against Kolani and not lose too many of those warships in the process.

  On the display that came to life before her, Iceni could see the orbits of all of those mobile forces. So far, none of them had started to move out of its assigned orbit. The units close to Kolani’s flagship were ten light-minutes distant from the planet, so they would not have heard or seen any signs of trouble until ten minutes after Drakon’s attack went in. At least the lack of reaction before those ten minutes had elapsed meant that they hadn’t received any tip-offs that Drakon and Iceni were about to act. Kolani had wanted to keep the flotilla concentrated together, but Iceni had been able to use her own authority and some plausible-enough reasons to divide the flotilla into three portions.

  One group, in orbit near the planet because Iceni had insisted she needed an easily visible deterrent to rebellion, held three of the heavy cruisers but only one of the light cruisers and four of the HuKs. A second group, with two heavy cruisers including C-990 which Kolani herself was riding as well as three of the light cruisers and four more of the HuKs, orbited ten light-minutes farther out from the star. The last group, consisting of only one heavy cruiser, one light cruiser, and the remaining four HuKs, was parked near the main mobile forces facility, a massive space station that orbited a gas-giant planet one light-hour out from the star. At the closest point of approach in their orbits, that would put the gas giant roughly fifty light-minutes distant from the habitable world where Iceni was. With the gas giant actually well behind the habitable world in its orbit, at almost its maximum distance away, the gas giant was almost one and a half light-hours from where Iceni’s force was. By the time that last, small group could reach them, Iceni and Kolani might well have already decided the issue of who would be in command of the flotilla.

  “Data feeds from all other mobile forces in this star system show readiness state three,” Akiri said. “Regular cruising readiness, no preparations for battle.” He paused. “Of course, they could be falsifying their data feeds to us just as we’re presently falsifying our own readiness state to them.”

  Iceni gave him a hard smile. “That’s worth considering. Did you report my presence aboard this unit in your data feed to the other units?”

  “Yes, Madam CEO.”

  All of the units that were accepting her authority should be reporting in to her, then, as soon as they had taken care of the snakes they had aboard. Her eyes rested on the display again. If the unit commanders who had already pledged to support her carried through on their commitments then half of the heavy cruisers were hers, and two of the light cruisers, as well as five of the Hunter-Killers. Unfortunately, one of those light cruisers and one of the HuKs were a light-hour and a half distant.

  Akiri was watching his own display with a morose expression. “C-818 will follow CEO Kolani. She’s still using C-990 as her flagship, and I believe that unit’s commander is also loyal to Kolani.”

  “That was expected,” Iceni replied. “Kolani kept the two cruisers she was surest of with her.”

  “C-555 and C-413,” Akiri began, naming the other two heavy cruisers in this group.

  “Are loyal to me.” Iceni raised one finger slightly toward her display. “But C-625, out there by the gas giant. That’s a ques
tion.”

  “I . . . cannot make an estimate,” Akiri said.

  “Neither could I. I expect that C-625’s commanding officer will make every effort to avoid committing to either me or CEO Kolani until she sees which one of us wins. The light cruiser with C-625 would support me if it were alone, but if surrounded by mobile forces that stay loyal to CEO Kolani that light cruiser’s status is also problematic. Two of the HuKs in the group at the gas giant are newly arrived in this star system, so I have no idea what they might do.”

  Marphissa nodded. “I haven’t even spoken to anyone on those HuKs. They’ve reported in to CEO Kolani, but we haven’t worked with them at all.”

  “But, Madam CEO,” Akiri said hesitantly, “why if you doubted the actions those mobile forces would take did you let them be so far from where you could influence them? I ask so I can learn,” he added quickly.

  Iceni didn’t answer him directly. “Did you review the reports we received of the fighting at Prime, Sub-CEO Akiri?”

  Akiri hesitated again, clearly trying to recall the information, then Marphissa answered from her own place on the bridge. “When the new council declared itself, some of the mobile forces there tried to join with them, but because all of the units were close together, the loyalists to the old council destroyed every one of them.”

  Sub-CEO Akiri nodded, with an annoyed glance at Executive Marphissa. “Yes.”

  “Then you understand why I didn’t want everything within range of CEO Kolani and the mobile forces loyal to her,” Iceni said. “I want to make sure that if we fight, I have some chance to decide when and where.”

  A comm window opened before Iceni, showing the commanding officer of heavy cruiser C-555. “We await your orders, CEO Iceni. All ISS personnel aboard my unit have been neutralized.”

  “Something is being ejected from C-413,” one of the line workers on the bridge reported.

  C-413’s commanding officer called in moments later, looking oddly serene. “We have just disposed of the last snake, CEO Iceni.”

  “Out of an air lock?” Iceni asked.

  “That particular ISS agent delighted in undermining my authority with my crew, CEO Iceni.”

  “I see. In the future, avoid theatrics in carrying out your instructions.” For all her sympathy with C-413’s commanding officer, Iceni didn’t want the crews of any of these ships getting used to tossing authority figures out of air locks. If that ever became a habit, it might be entirely too hard to break.

  The light cruiser and the four HuKs with Iceni’s group also reported in, pledging their allegiance. With the warships around her accounted for, Iceni called the doubtless wavering C-625. “The majority of the mobile forces in the flotilla have already sworn to obey my orders. You would be advised to follow their example as quickly as possible.” She would have to wait almost three hours for an answer even if C-625 replied as soon as it heard from her. “What’s happening on the surface?” she asked Akiri.

  Akiri frowned toward the current operations line worker, who seemed slightly stunned by events as he recited a report in a steady but bewildered voice. “Major fighting can be seen at the main ISS headquarters and the three ISS subcomplexes. Communications from the surface indicate that all ISS substations are also being attacked. We received a fragmentary message from ISS CEO Hardrad, but it was cut off before any orders or information could be received.”

  “Good. The ground forces are taking care of the snakes on the surface,” Iceni announced for the benefit of everyone within earshot. “CEO Drakon is doing his part.” It made Drakon sound like a junior partner of hers, but cultivating that impression in the mobile forces might be useful. She paused, blew out a steadying breath, then called Kolani. “CEO Kolani, this is CEO Iceni. I have assumed direct command of all mobile forces within this star system. You are to acknowledge my authority and pledge personal loyalty to me. I await your immediate reply.”

  Another message, this one directly to every other ship in Kolani’s group. “I have assumed direct command of all mobile forces within this star system. You are to acknowledge my authority and pledge personal loyalty to me. I expect your immediate reply.”

  The earliest she would hear a response from Kolani or any of the ships with her was twenty minutes. “Let me know the instant any of the mobile forces with Kolani begin to alter their movement,” she ordered Akiri.

  Akiri shook his head. “All of the light cruisers and HuKs with Kolani are under the guns of those two heavy cruisers. They won’t be able to bolt without fighting their way out.”

  “Correct,” Iceni agreed, her tone implying that she had already taken that into account.

  “But if any of them turn on Kolani,” Executive Marphissa pointed out, “their weapons will be within easy range of those heavy cruisers. A sudden, surprise volley could inflict crippling damage.”

  Iceni smiled. “Yes.”

  “But won’t Kolani be watching for that?” Akiri asked.

  Having subordinates who identified problems instead of ignoring them (or worse, being oblivious to them) usually pleased Iceni. But subordinates who raised every possible difficulty without identifying positive aspects or solutions were another matter. This time Iceni raised an eyebrow at Akiri. She could do that in a way that inspired real fear in those junior to her, and now Akiri paled slightly. “Yes,” Iceni repeated. “She will have to watch the mobile forces with her and worry about fighting us at the same time.”

  “I see,” Akiri agreed hastily, then busied himself working with his display.

  From the corner of her eye, Iceni could see a well-concealed but still-apparent look of disdain on Marphissa. None of the line workers on the bridge betrayed any signs of noticing what had happened, however, which implied that this sort of scene had played out before, most likely when CEO Kolani browbeat Akiri. When Iceni had heard that Kolani had more than once publicly raked Akiri over the coals, she had known that would make Akiri easy to recruit. But Iceni also found herself sympathetic to why Kolani would have chewed out Akiri and wondering why Kolani hadn’t already replaced him. Kolani wasn’t known for a high degree of tolerance for workers who didn’t do their jobs to her standards. And there wasn’t anything in Akiri’s personal record that should have inhibited Kolani from sacking him. There was an inconsistency in her treatment of Akiri, a problem that Iceni bookmarked in her brain to come back to and investigate when time permitted.

  At the moment, though, she had to endure a forced period of waiting while still staying alert and focused. Waiting until replies came from Kolani and the other mobile forces ten light-minutes distant. Waiting until she knew how well Drakon’s attacks had succeeded. Or failed. Iceni found her eyes resting on the portion of her display showing the surface of the planet below this cruiser. ISS facilities were highlighted because of the fighting at those locations. If she received information that one or more of Drakon’s attacks had failed, it wouldn’t be hard at all to designate one or more of those facilities as a bombardment target. Point, assign, launch. Simple. And part of a city, and everyone living in that area, would be destroyed.

  I launched bombardments at Alliance worlds. That wasn’t hard. I didn’t think about the citizens under those aiming points. Are people in the Alliance called citizens? Why don’t I know the answer to that? I killed them, and I don’t even know what they called themselves.

  Of course, that made it easier to kill them.

  I never had to participate in an internal stability operation, dropping a bombardment on one of our own worlds to quell rebellion or riot. I was lucky. But here I am potentially facing the same decision.

  Was Black Jack really sent by the living stars to stop us? He also stopped the Alliance from bombarding civilians. Was he meant to? My father told me of the stars that watch over us all, but it has been so long, and I’m no longer sure how much of that I accept. I’ve seen that the men an
d women who gained the most power in the Syndicate Worlds were the ones who would stop at nothing. Why weren’t they stopped? I’ve seen the aftermath of Alliance bombardments of our worlds. I didn’t see many signs there of something caring about the helpless or the weak. You had to stay strong, or you got hurt. Why would something that cared about us wait so long to do anything?

  But we did lose, and the Alliance won. And right now, the meanest, most unforgiving part of the Syndicate Worlds, the snakes of the ISS, are dying inside their own fortresses.

  Her eyes were locked on one of the ISS symbols, one of the spots where she could order a bombardment to fall. All right, living stars. My father said you were supposed to guide us as to right or wrong. You told Black Jack what to do? Tell me. Should I ensure that nest of snakes is cleaned out even if it costs the city and citizens around it? Or should I avoid doing the most practical and easiest thing because it would hurt those citizens that I’m responsible for even though those citizens can always be replaced?

  Go ahead. If really you’re out there somewhere, tell me.

  “Madam CEO,” the operations line worker reported. “The mobile forces with CEO Kolani have been seen to alter vector. They appear to be coming around to close on our position.”

  Executive Marphissa nodded. “Based on the timing, they reacted when they saw the attacks against the ISS on the surface.”