The Lost Stars (4 page)

“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.

“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 Marphissa 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.”

“What did you say?” Iceni asked, thinking she must have missed Marphissa's actual reply and only caught the end of the transmission.

“I am staying, this flotilla is staying, to fight for the people, Madam President.”

Once again, Iceni took a few moments to answer as she tried to find the right words. “For the people? You intend waging a hopeless fight for people who are certain to die anyway? For an ideal?”

“Death is a certainty for us all sooner or later, Madam President. I would rather die for an ideal than for profit, or live knowing that I would not do all that I could to defend those who cannot defend themselves. I know you only ask me because you want to be certain that I believe as you do, that I am also willing to die for those who depend upon
me.”

Iceni barely avoided betraying her shock this time.
Die for the people? Does she think I'm that naïve?

I did reject Togo's advice to flee immediately. But I did that because . . .

Why the hell did I do that?

Not to look weak compared to Artur Drakon. That must have been the reason.

And now she had to worry about how she looked next to Kommodor Marphissa, who was one of the few people in this star system who might have a chance to escape but instead was choosing to stay and fight a hopeless battle.

For the people.

Marphissa's workers also knew what choices she had, the crews, now designated specialists by Iceni's orders to give them pride in their particular jobs. Those words would inspire the crews, help them fight when the fight was without hope. But Marphissa's attitude, as useful as it was in this extreme case, could also create problems in the future.

If there were other days or a future for them all, which seemed extremely unlikely at the moment. “Very well, Kommodor. Take your flotilla to the gas giant, unite your forces, and defend this star system.” She issued the death sentence for those warships and their crews with the sort of pang she had long since learned to bury away inside when ordering the executions of individuals.

“Yes, Madam President.” The Kommodor paused. “One question, Madam President. The entire flotilla? I can leave one Hunter-Killer in orbit in case it is needed after the rest of the flotilla has been destroyed.”

In case it was needed for Iceni to flee this planet, this star system.

Do you want me to die “for the people” or not, you young fool?
Iceni silently demanded of Marphissa's image. Nonetheless, faced with the final decision, she knew the answer. She would stay. Sending off all the warships, every fast means of escaping, meant the commitment was real.
Maybe I've gone crazy. But I have started to build something here, dammit! It may be flawed and it may be foolish but it is mine! I will not leave it to the enigmas or to Boyens. I won't even leave it to Drakon. It is mine. Including my insane Kommodor and her crews rushing off to fight a battle in the name of ideals the Syndicate Worlds gave lip service to but tried in every way to eradicate.

Rushing off to die by my order, in my name, because they believe I also accept such ideals. Am I to be proud of that or shamed by it? All of my training and experiences in the Syndicate tell me that only a fool would feel either emotion.

I suppose I am a fool.

Iceni shook her head. “No. All warships are to go with you. General Drakon and I will remain in charge here.”

“We knew that would be your answer,” Marphissa said, smiling. She brought her right fist over to rest above her left breast in the Syndicate salute, but gave the routine gesture a ceremonious solemnity. “For the people, Marphissa,
out.”

You knew? How could you have known when I didn't know until this moment?
During her long and distasteful climb to CEO rank, almost every mentor of Iceni's had warned her against subordinates who assumed too much or who acted in inexplicable ways.

But it was done. The decision had been made. And Marphissa had provided excellent service in the past. She would no doubt continue to be invaluable for however many hours she and her warships continued to exist.

Iceni dropped her privacy field and looked toward General Drakon. “I have ordered Kommodor Marphissa to take all warships out of orbit. They will meet up with the other heavy cruisers at the gas giant, and the unified flotilla will engage . . .” Iceni swallowed, wondering why her throat had suddenly tightened. “Will engage the enemy, fighting until they are destroyed,” she finished.

A prolonged silence was broken by the respectful voice of Colonel Malin. “
All
warships, Madam President?”

“Yes, that is what I said,” Iceni snapped, not certain why she felt so angry at the question. She pretended not to be aware of the subdued reaction sweeping through the command center, of the workers looking at her with amazement and gratitude.
You are happy because I'm not leaving you to your deaths? Is it so easy to buy your loyalty?

Drakon walked toward her, moving with reassuring solidity. She hadn't realized how much she liked that, to see him stride forward, all stubbornness and strength. An anchor in a world where all certainties had given way. “Good,” he said, as if Iceni's words reflected some prior consultation and agreement. “Let's talk about our plans for defending this planet.”

“Certainly,” she said.
A man who publicly backs my decisions without hesitation and yet maintains his own authority! If only you weren't a CEO, Artur Drakon. I could love a man like you if I could trust
you.

She let her gaze flit across Colonel Malin, looking for any indication of warning in his eyes or posture. Drakon had no idea that Malin had been for years secretly providing her with inside information, and he would have included one of his most trusted aides in any plans to betray her. But Malin gave no sign of warning as Iceni turned to walk beside Drakon toward one of the secure conference rooms opening onto the command center.

“What exactly did your Kommodor say?” Drakon asked, as the door sealed, and the small security lights over it turned green to confirm the room's countermeasures were active.

Iceni told
him.

“Damn,” Drakon said. “She really is an idealist. I didn't think there were any of them left in the Syndicate Worlds. Or anywhere else.”

“There probably won't be any of them left in this star system much longer. She worries me,” Iceni said.

“I can see why. But you need someone like that in a fight like this.”

“And after the fight is over?” Iceni asked.

“The strongest horse is the hardest to handle,” Drakon said.

“What the hell does that mean?

“It means that the best subordinates need to be led rather than coerced, but they usually turn out to be worth it in a crisis.” He looked around, his hands moving, as if seeking something else to do. “I'll keep my troops digging in. Most of that activity will be in the cities and towns, which might upset the citizens. But if it comes to a fight to the death, my soldiers can hold out the longest in an urban environment even if it's been pounded to rubble by the enigmas.”

Iceni leaned both hands on the table in the center of the room, gazing at the synthetic coral surface but seeing in her mind's eye the multitude of islands that dotted the planet. “The aliens are four and a half light-hours away. If their ships perform like ours do, we have three or four days before they can get here, depending on exactly where the enigmas go. Would it make sense to evacuate the citizens? Disperse them among the islands?”

“Can they get food and water?”

“From the oceans, yes. Fishing boats can deliver their catches to the islands instead of port cities, and there are many portable desalinization units.”

Drakon shrugged, looking unhappy. “It's your call, but if you send citizens out to the islands, they'll be easily spotted by the enigmas when the alien ships get close enough.”

“And then every island will be a target for bombardment,” Iceni said. “And the small islands will be more concentrated targets than the cities are.” She knew how it worked. She had participated in some planetary bombardments during the war with the Alliance, giving her memories that she shied away from, as well as the occasional nightmare despite every treatment modern medical science could offer to cope with what someone might have seen. Or done. “There's not enough land area on this planet to disperse everyone.”

“No,” Drakon agreed. “There isn't.”

“And any large bombardment projectiles that hit the water will generate tidal waves that swamp the low islands. I'll do what I can to keep the citizens calm and work out a limited evacuation. Maybe the enigmas won't slaughter civilian families if they're unarmed and obviously no threat.” She knew that was wishful thinking. Drakon was trying to hide his skepticism and not quite succeeding, but she couldn't blame him for that.

“We don't
know
what has happened to citizens in star systems taken over by the enigmas,” Drakon pointed
out.

“We know we've never heard any trace of them afterward.” Iceni took a deep breath, stood straight, and met Drakon's eyes. “I'll do what I can and keep sending occasional messages to the enigmas and Boyens. If either of them reply, I'll negotiate.”

“And I'll make sure my troops are ready when the enigmas get here.” He offered her a half-mocking salute. “Did you ever watch those old drama vids? The ones about that ancient empire and its arena fights to the death?”

“Yes. The gladiators. We who are about to die salute you.” She returned Drakon's salute, smiling sardonically. “Are you going to betray me, Artur?”

He looked back at her, no answering smile appearing. “No. Do you believe
me?”

I want to.
“I think we both have no chance of survival, no matter what we do. It's annoying, actually. I always hoped that I'd be able to choose my own death.”

Drakon glowered at the floor, then raised his gaze to her. “It won't be a stab in the back. Not from
me.”

He sounded like he really meant
it.

“WHAT
the hell are they doing?” In her frustration, Iceni spoke her thoughts out loud. “It's been twelve hours, and they're just
sitting
there!”

The only other person in the office off the command center was Mehmet Togo, who seemed momentarily uncertain as to whether he was expected to reply.

Iceni glared at the much smaller version of the star-system display floating above the conference table in this office. “I know what Boyens is doing. He hasn't answered me, and his flotilla hasn't moved because he's minimizing the risks to himself. He's going to do nothing, pretending to be ready to charge to the rescue of the humans here while actually preparing to run back to the hypernet gate and escape.”