The Lost Stars (15 page)

“Kommodor,” the senior watch specialist began urgently.

“I see.” Alerts had appeared on her display as ships in the Syndicate flotilla began changing vectors. “Accelerating, coming around. All the heavy cruisers and all the Hunter-Killers.”

“Are they going after the new cruiser?” Kapitan Toirac asked.

“It's a safe bet,” Marphissa said. “We need to see
if—”

“Kommodor?” the watch specialist said. “We have run the courses. If the Syndicate forces proceed at their best speed, then even at maximum acceleration we cannot reach that new cruiser before they
do.”

That watch specialist was overdue for a promotion. “Can the new cruiser get clear? He should have had enough of a head start.”

“He's hauling a lot of extra mass, Kommodor. It's limiting his acceleration. If current projections hold, the Syndicate ships will catch
him.”

Damn.
She glanced over at Kapitan Toirac, who was staring fixedly at his own display with the look of a man who was completely out of his depth and trying very hard not to let anyone notice.
I recommended he be given a shot as commanding officer of this ship. A lot of junior executives moved up fast when we cleaned out the Syndicate loyalists. Some of them could handle it. My old friend Toirac though . . . he was a good executive. Was that level of authority as much as he could handle?
“What do you think, Kapitan?” Marphissa prompted.

“Uh? Ah.” Toirac focused intently on his display again. “We can't get there . . . and we're badly outnumbered . . . I don't see that we can do anything.”

“Not doing anything is a choice, Kapitan,” Marphissa said in a quiet voice. “An absence of action is an action. I will not choose to sit by while those others are wiped out by Syndicate forces.”

Toirac flushed. “It could be a trap.”

“A trap? The new cruiser as a decoy to lure us into trying to save it?” Marphissa pondered that. “That's possible. But they're being clumsy about it if that's the case. They should have set up the situation so it appears we can get to the new cruiser in time to help. What if it's not a trap? What can we
do?”

Frowning with concentration, Toirac shrugged. “A demonstration of force? Something to distract the Syndicate forces?”

“I don't see—” Marphissa's gaze had settled on the Syndicate flagship. A battleship, far too powerful for her flotilla to engage. Only an insane commander would try to attack the battleship while almost all the Syndicate escorts were chasing the new cruiser. “Run this,” she ordered. “An intercept on the Syndicate battleship. Can the Syndicate heavy cruisers and HuKs catch the new cruiser and get back to the battleship before we get there?”

Everyone from Toirac on down stared at her for a fraction of a second, then instincts instilled by Syndicate training in obedience to orders took over, and hands flew across displays. “No,” Toirac announced before anyone else, smiling at having displayed his skill at maneuvering calculations. “That is, if we did that, they couldn't get back before
we—”

“Then we're going.” She had already set up the maneuver on her own display. “All units in the Midway Flotilla, this is Kommodor Marphissa. Execute attached maneuver immediately.
Out.”

FOUR
hours later, on the inhabited planet, President Gwen Iceni watched the unfolding situation near the hypernet gate as the light from the events finally reached her. Alerted to the arrival of the new cruiser, she watched it begin to flee, watched the Syndicate flotilla, commanded by CEO Boyens, send a strong force in pursuit, saw her display confirm that the new cruiser was doomed, saw the ships of the Midway Flotilla, her warships, also accelerate into new vectors.
What is Kommodor Marphissa doing? She can't—

Iceni stared in disbelief as the vectors on Marphissa's small group of warships steadied out. They were headed straight for an intercept on Boyens's battleship, a single warship that was more than a match for everything combined in the Midway Flotilla.

It had all happened four hours ago. Marphissa's entire flotilla—
No,
my
entire flotilla
—had probably already been wiped
out.

“IF
she has somehow survived, I will personally kill
her!”

Togo, standing impassively near Iceni in response to her summons, wisely avoided saying anything.

It was a shame that Sub-CEO Akiri, who had briefly been on her personal staff, had been assassinated by a snake agent months ago. Right now she really wanted a mobile forces officer nearby so she could scream at
him.

On the display above Iceni's desk, the Midway Flotilla had steadied out, accelerating for all it was worth toward an intercept with the Syndicate battleship. “Oh, isn't that wonderful! Icing on the cake!”

“Madam President?” Togo asked.

“Look! Do you see those two symbols? They mean that those two Hunter-Killer ships are on tracks to collide with the Syndicate battleship! Not a close firing run! A collision!”

A slight frown creased Togo's usually smooth brow. “How did the Kommodor convince the crews of those two ships to obey such an order?”

“She didn't have to! There are remote command circuits. With the right codes, Marphissa can take over control of other ships in her flotilla. I entrusted those codes to her, and now she's using them to do something that will cost me an immense amount of support!”

This time Togo nodded in understanding. “Because it will be perceived that you sent those two crews to their deaths. The crews of the other mobile forces units will not take that well.”

“Nor will the citizens! I've been keeping the citizens happy with a trickle of changes that improve their lot and grant them more freedom. If I were a normal CEO, they wouldn't blink at my throwing away the lives of their fellow citizens like that, but they expect me to be different.”

“You have codes that override the override codes that you gave to the Kommodor,” Togo pointed
out.

“And it would take four hours for my override of her override to get there! Which is about three hours too long,” Iceni got out between gritted teeth.

“The action does not seem characteristic of Kommodor Marphissa,” Togo offered.

Iceni glared at the display. “Characteristic or not, she's doing it. I want to get rid of Boyens and his flotilla, but not in a way that's going to undermine my position. News of this will spread to every nearby star system, and everyone will see me as nothing more than a typical
CEO.”

“They will respect you
if—”

“I do not have enough firepower to rule this region of space through fear!”
Nor do I want to. I would have to do things to reinforce that fear, and I have done too many things like that already.
Togo knew of some of those things, had followed her orders to carry out some of them, but he did not know everything. Not by a long shot. “This action could destroy our chances of a much stronger mutual-defense agreement with Taroa.”

She forced herself to sit down and breathe slowly.
How to deal with the fallout from this? Not only the loss of most of my flotilla but also the deliberate use of two warships and their crews as projectiles.

Togo cleared his throat diffidently. “Some of the Syndicate ships are altering course.”

Iceni looked up at the display, seeing the heavy cruisers and Hunter-Killers that had been sent in pursuit of the new cruiser turning back. “They're going to reinforce the defenses around the battleship.” But Marphissa's warships continued on their attack run even though their mission had now become not simply hopeless but clearly impossible.
What is she trying to accomplish?

The answer came to Iceni moments before she saw Marphissa's ships break off their attack and bend back toward their previous orbit. “It was a bluff. Damn her. She scared Boyens into letting that new cruiser
go.”

“CEO Boyens will be angry that they escaped,” Togo said.

“Very angry, yes.”
Can I use that? Oh my, yes. I can use that.
The frustrated anger of a short time earlier had become elation. Not only had Marphissa been far more clever than expected, but the recent events had given Iceni the sort of idea that could finally break the impasse between CEO Boyens and everyone else in this star system. “I need to contact that new cruiser. He could be very helpful to us. Notify General Drakon that I need to speak with him privately. Just him and me. Don't give me that look. There are still snakes around, and I can't risk any of them hearing the plan I just came up with.”

“If Madam President no longer believes I can be counted upon—” Togo began, his posture and voice stiffer than usual.

“It's not that.”
It's that this is exactly the sort of situation where I can use Colonel Malin's status as an information source to my advantage while also limiting the chances that anyone will guess what I'm planning.
She managed to muster up a reassuring smile for Togo. “You're too close to me. If you're known to be involved, everyone will try to find out what's going
on.”

Togo did not look comforted by the weak rationale. “Madam President, I must caution you that General Drakon is certain to be working against you. He will use any apparent closeness between you to his advantage.”

“Closeness?” Iceni asked sharply.

“There have been . . . rumors.”

“There will always be rumors. I can't let my actions be constrained by gossips who haven't matured since leaving school as children! Get that message to General Drakon while I contact the new cruiser.”

DRAKON
gazed steadily at Iceni, turning her proposal over in his mind.
I'm not expert on mobile forces tactics, but the concept seems sound.
“You think this might work?”

“I think it has a good chance,” she said, “but we can't send Togo. Everyone will notice his absence and assume he's on some special mission for
me.”

“Who do we send? I agree it's too risky to put any of this into a transmission. One hint of what we're doing, and Boyens can thumb his nose at
us.”

Iceni made a casual gesture with one hand. “How about Colonels Malin and Morgan?”

“Two of my people? Going to personally meet with Black Jack?” His gaze on her narrowed. “You're willing to risk that I won't have them carry some other message as well?”

“Yes, I am,” Iceni said calmly. “Are you saying that I shouldn't?”

“I'm saying that you and I both have a lot of experience with not taking those kinds of risks. What's changed?”

“I have gotten to know you better.”

He wanted to believe that, which made him even more wary.

“In any event,” Iceni continued, “I can have one of your officers wear a sealed monitor that will record everything said. That will ensure no unauthorized messages get passed to Black Jack.”

“All right. I can see why you would suggest Colonel Malin. But why Morgan?”

Her smile this time was knowing. “Because if either of them had their own plans, the other would tell
you.”

“True enough.” He went through the plan again in his mind, then nodded. “I agree. People will notice Malin and Morgan aren't around, but they'll assume they're on my business, which doesn't involve the mobile forces.”

“Warships,” Iceni corrected. “I want to get completely away from Syndicate terminology and Syndicate ways of thinking. I expect to hear from the new cruiser soon in response to our offer to use one of our heavy cruisers to escort him to his home star. As soon as he agrees, I'll notify you, and we can work out how to get your officers to Black Jack without anyone's knowing.”

Drakon rubbed his lower face with one hand as he thought. “We could use that new Alliance liaison officer in this.”

“Could we? Yes. You're right.” Her smile this time appeared completely genuine. “We make a good team, Artur.”

MARPHISSA
stood at
Manticore
's main air lock, waiting for the shuttle to finish sealing to the access.
What the hell is going on? Why did the President insist that I go to personally inspect progress on getting our battleship ready to fight?

It had taken two days for
Manticore
to reach the gas giant, where the new battleship
Midway
continued her slow progress in fitting out. Now Marphissa was two days away from the rest of the flotilla and light-hours distant from knowing what was happening near the hypernet gate.

The shuttle took her directly to one of
Midway
's air locks, where Marphissa found the young and brilliant Kapitan-Leytenant Kontos waiting by himself. “This way, Kommodor,” Kontos said.

They started off alone through the battleship. Despite the shipyard workers and skeleton crew, the vast size of the battleship left many areas seemingly deserted. Marphissa felt a sense of unease as they headed down one such passageway. Kontos had shown no signs of dangerous ambition, and President Iceni had ordered her here, but this setup felt far too much like the sort of disappearance that occasionally afflicted senior Syndicate officers who had offended someone. And there had been rumors passed on to Marphissa by “friends” who had heard that Iceni had been very unhappy with the trick that had fooled Boyens into letting the new heavy cruiser escape.
Even if those stories are true, the President would not make me disappear. She is different.
“What's going on?” she asked Kontos in a low voice.

Kontos gave her an enigmatic look. “I can't tell you. It's important. You're . . . going to meet another officer. Someone who's supposed to join you on
Manticore
.”

That was reassuring, since it meant she was supposed to return to
Manticore
, hopefully in one piece and not under arrest.

Kontos pulled out an envelope and passed it to her. “Orders. I have not read them, just a cover document that told me to pass them to
you.”

“
Written
orders?” Marphissa stared at the envelope as she took
it.

“They don't want to risk any compromise of whatever is in there.”

“I should say they don't! I've never seen orders written on paper before.”

Kontos paused outside a hatch. “She's in here. I'm the only one aboard this ship who has seen
her.”

“Who the hell is it? Has the President herself secretly come aboard?”

“That would have been less surprising,” Kontos said. He saluted. “I am to see you inside, seal the hatch, then wait until you call. There's a working comm panel keyed to my seat on the bridge. I'll wait there.”

“Am I supposed to read these orders before I meet this officer?”

“I don't know, Kommodor.”

“Fine. Let me in. I'll give you a call when I'm done.”
Stupid secrecy,
Marphissa thought.
What could be so hush-hush as to justify all of this—

She got two steps inside the compartment and froze, barely aware of Kontos sealing the hatch behind
her.

Standing next to one of the tables bolted to the deck was an Alliance fleet captain in full uniform.

Marphissa took a deep breath. An Alliance officer. She had seen prisoners, she had met Alliance ships in battle, but she had never actually talked to an Alliance officer, or anyone else from the Alliance for that matter. The war had lasted for a century. The people of the Alliance weren't just the enemy; they had always been the enemy, always the threat to her and her home. Meeting one of them couldn't have felt more alien than if there had been an enigma in that compartment.

But President Iceni had sent her here. There must be a good reason for this.

I have faced death. I can face an Alliance fleet officer.

“I'm Captain Bradamont,” the officer said, standing as if at attention.

“Kommodor Marphissa,” she replied automatically. Marphissa's eyes went to the left breast of Bradamont's uniform, where the combat awards and duty awards were displayed. But where on a Syndicate suit those awards would form a readable summary of someone's career, the Alliance decorations were all unknown, a riot of color and design that held no meaning to Marphissa. Who was this woman? “Why are you here?”

“You haven't been given any orders?”

“I . . .” Marphissa looked at the envelope she was still holding. “Maybe I had better read these
now.”

After some frustrating moments trying to figure out how it worked, Marphissa managed to split the seal on the envelope. She fumbled out the papers inside and read rapidly.
Liaison officer . . . assist in special project . . . authorized full access . . .
“What's this special project? Wait, there's another page.”

An operation aimed at trapping the Syndicate flotilla into either fighting or leaving? Marphissa focused back on the Alliance officer. “Captain
?”

“Bradamont.”

“I am completely at a loss here. I've never even imagined talking to someone like you. When the snakes were everywhere, it would have meant being charged with treason.”

“Snakes? Oh. Internal Security.”

The loathing in Bradamont's voice matched Marphissa's own feelings about the snakes. Marphissa found herself thawing slightly. “They're all gone. We killed them.”
I personally killed one of them. Why do I feel a sudden need to boast about that, as if I need to top this woman with my own accomplishments? But I don't like to remember killing that snake. He deserved it, but I don't like to recall doing
it.

Bradamont had nodded at her words. “I know you got rid of your Internal Security. I wouldn't have agreed to stay in this star system if they had remained.”

“Agreed?”

“I volunteered. Or, rather, Admiral Geary asked me to volunteer.”

“Admiral Geary? Oh, you mean Black Jack. That would have been a hard request to turn down, I imagine. Were you on his staff?”

The Alliance officer shook her head. “I commanded
Dragon
. A battle cruiser.”