The Lost Stars: Shattered Spear (11 page)

He adopted a pose of quiet confidence. Not arrogant. That was the last thing he needed to project. But a sort of comradely assurance that he was part of whatever team Ulindi was trying to put together in the wake of the Syndicate’s expulsion.

But his careful effort was nearly undone by a strange sensation, a chill of fear down his spine as if death itself had passed close by him, known Boyens for who he was, eyed him with interest, then chosen to pass on.

Seriously rattled by the feeling, Boyens looked around hurriedly, trying to spot whoever had produced that reaction in him, but no one in the groups of people arriving or departing appeared to stand out or look out of place. Which only meant that whoever it was could blend in very well, a useful skill for thieves, swindlers . . . and assassins.

Boyens had been eyed appraisingly by assassins before, including those agonizing months with Happy Hua apparently itching for an excuse to conduct a field execution of him for any reason her own superiors might be willing to accept. But this had felt disturbingly familiar. For some reason it called up memories of meetings with Drakon and his two aides, Morgan and Malin, whose gazes could bear an uncomfortable similarity to that of a cat toying with a mouse.

But Morgan had died on Ulindi. And if he screwed up this first encounter with officials of Ulindi he might die here as well.

Boyens regained his poise with a major effort. By the time he finally reached the guards and presented his papers, knowing that he was being scanned by many devices designed to spot signs of fear or deceit, Boyens presented the perfect image of confidence and safety.

The older woman who took Boyens’s papers frowned at them, checked the display at her guard post, then frowned at him. “Boyens? Syndicate CEO?”

A cone of silence settled over a wide area around Boyens, conversations and activity halting, everyone turning to stare at him in disbelief that was rapidly turning to anger.

“
Former
CEO,” Boyens said, trying to make the CEO title seem like one he was reluctant to claim. Given the circumstances, he wasn’t faking that. He spoke loudly enough for his voice to carry, though even a whisper would have been audible in the hush that filled the area. “I came from Midway. You can see the endorsements on my papers, from President Iceni and General Drakon themselves.”

“They wanted him to come to Ulindi,” Dingane Paige said, sounding more confident as he talked to his peers.

Other guards had hastened over and were examining their readouts. “Iceni and Drakon? Those two really wanted him to come here?” one asked.

“Yes. I’m familiar with this region of space,” Boyens explained, doing his best to pretend that he was talking to another CEO rather than to a worker so his attitude would come across well. “I used to serve with the Reserve Flotilla.” He remembered conversations he had overheard as well as some Syndicate intelligence assessments and decided to add something else. “I was taken prisoner when the Flotilla was destroyed by Black Jack.
He
brought me back to Midway and released me.”

“You expect us to believe that?” a young woman demanded.

“It’s true.” Two more women had come over. Boyens hadn’t noticed them in his focus on the guards, but he saw they wore Syndicate uniforms that had had the Syndicate patches torn off. “We were shuttle pilots with the Reserve Flotilla,” the older of the two continued, jerking her thumb at her companion to include her in the statement. “We both saw him with the Flotilla. I flew him a few times.”

“I’m glad you survived,” Boyens said, trying desperately to recall the woman and wondering how he had treated her. Hopefully halfway decently at least.

“Got transferred off before the Flotilla got sent to Alliance space and hell,” the pilot answered. “This guy treated us all right,” the woman added. “He was a CEO, but he wasn’t an arrogant ass.”

“Everyone knew that Boyens wasn’t half-bad,” the other pilot commented, “for a CEO.”

“That’s not saying much,” one of the guards grumbled, staring at Boyens’s papers as if searching for a single comma out of place that could be used to justify arrest and interrogation.

“President Iceni asked me to come here,” Boyens repeated.

“He’s telling the truth,” another guard commented, eyes on the readouts.

“That’s a first for a CEO,” another added, bringing a ripple of angry laughter.

“Iceni was a CEO once, too. Why did President Iceni ask you to come to Ulindi?” the older pilot asked. “Last I heard, you were attacking Midway in command of a Syndicate flotilla.”

“Because I escaped,” Boyens said, phrasing his words carefully. “The snakes commanded that flotilla, not me. I had snake CEO Hua Boucher at my back every moment. I managed to prevent some actions by the snakes and kept it from accomplishing the Syndicate’s goals.” The first part of that sentence was true, but the second half was shading the truth considerably. Hopefully, the way he had phrased it, thinking of what Boucher really had accused him of doing, would keep the statement from showing up on the security sensors as deceptive. “I had to run when it became obvious I was going to be blamed for the flotilla’s failures. I brought important information to Midway. I wish I could have killed Boucher myself before I left, but the attempt would have been futile.” He didn’t have to worry whether that last statement would come across as true.

The commander of the checkpoint scratched his head, then shrugged. “I have to admit to a strong desire to just go ahead and shoot you now,
but that’d be a snake thing to do. We’re going to, uh, take you into custody, though. Take you down and let the interim government talk to you. They’ll decide what to do.”

“That’s fine,” Boyens said, trying not to look too relieved. If he could get in the same room with the inexperienced people trying to run this star system he was certain that he could convince them that he would be useful to Ulindi. It would take some time to unobtrusively shift from being a source of advice to becoming someone in authority, but he had time. Only fools tried to rush things.

The two guards assigned to him weren’t deferential, but they weren’t rough, either. A lifetime in the Syndicate had left them with a residual dread of CEOs that held them back even now. Boyens saw that the pilots on the shuttle taking him down to the planet were the two women who were also survivors of the Reserve Flotilla. He took that as a good sign for the future.

“We’re all survivors, aren’t we?” Boyens commented to his guards and Dingane Paige as the shuttle fell away from the orbital facility and began dropping toward the planet below.

“So far,” one of the guards commented in tones that made the implied threat obvious.

Paige was gazing morosely at the display near him, which showed an image of space outside the shuttle. “We can’t defend ourselves. How long can we survive like that? We don’t even have one Hunter-Killer like the one that brought us back to Ulindi.”

“Get one,” Boyens said matter-of-factly.

Paige and the guards stared at him. “You mean buy a mobile forces unit?” Paige asked. “We don’t have the money.”

“No, no!” Boyens protested. “Even if you could buy a warship, that’s what President Iceni calls them instead of mobile forces, you know,” he added in an aside to the guards to emphasize that he knew Iceni, “there are better ways. You have jump points to Maui and Kiribati, right? And the Syndicate is posting warships at Maui and Kiribati to keep those
star systems from revolting, and to protect against attacks by Midway’s forces. You need to get word to the workers and any right-minded executives on those warships that if they are sick of the Syndicate they can find a safe home here at Ulindi. For them and for their families!”

“Encourage them to mutiny?” Paige asked, then shook his head. “There must be snakes all over those units . . . um, warships. They couldn’t mutiny.”

“Even the Syndicate doesn’t have unlimited numbers of snakes,” Boyens advised. “How many snakes died here at Ulindi? On the planet where we’re going and in warships that were destroyed during the fighting in space? And that’s on top of all the other losses and all the other demands for snakes that the Syndicate has faced lately. They are spread thinly, I tell you. We have a window of opportunity in which mutinies have a higher chance of success, and we should use that to convince as many of those warships as possible to come to Ulindi for a new home where they can be free of the Syndicate. A new home that they can help defend against the Syndicate and all other threats!”

The two guards exchanged smiles, and even Paige managed to let some excitement and hope overcome his apparently habitual anxiety. More importantly (from Boyens’s point of view), none of them had objected when Boyens had used “we” to include himself with them.

And it wasn’t a bad plan at all. Some of the executives and sub-CEOs on those Syndicate warships at Maui and Kiribati might be men and women he knew. That wouldn’t be a positive in every case, but as a rule, Boyens had tried to avoid leaving vengeful victims in his wake. He had seen too many examples of unforgiving subordinates tripping up (or worse) those who had harmed them to not realize that generating living enemies on the way to the top made for a bad long-term strategy. Now Boyens’s attempts to ensure he wasn’t personally blamed for misfortunes that befell others might help bring Ulindi exactly the sort of muscle it very badly needed.

And if it led to more than one snake like the late-and-unlamented
snake CEO Hua Boucher being shoved out an air lock by angry workers, so much the better.

*   *   *

HEAVY
cruiser
Manticore
dropped out of jump space at Moorea to the accompaniment of combat system alarms warning of danger nearby.

“A Hunter-Killer,” Kapitan Diaz said as he shook the lingering effects of leaving jump from his brain. “Two light minutes away. It’s holding an orbit near the jump point. It is
not
broadcasting Syndicate unit identification.”

“A trick?” Marphissa asked.

The senior watch specialist answered. “Kommodor, the communications we are picking up indicate that Moorea has been occupied by the forces of Granaile Imallye. The HuK guarding this jump point is specifically identified as belonging to her forces.”

“So. A sentry posted at the jump point. That implies a decent level of organization and discipline.” Marphissa gazed at her display as new information appeared. Moorea was a fairly well-off star system, with five inner planets and six larger ones in the outer reaches. One of the inner planets was not merely inhabitable by humans but pleasant, orbiting its star at seven and a half light minutes out, while a second at ten light minutes out was cold but livable.

Orbiting near the primary inhabited world were two light cruisers, two more HuKs, and a single battle cruiser. While clearly of Syndicate origin, none of those were broadcasting Syndicate unit identification either.

“Imallye has some serious firepower here,” Marphissa commented. But the jump point from which
Manticore
had arrived was nearly six light hours from where that planet and those other warships now orbited. She waved one hand toward the comm specialist. “Set me up to contact the HuK on sentry duty.”

“Yes, Kommodor,” she replied. “It will take one moment. Done. Channel Two, Kommodor.”

Marphissa sat straight and tried to look authoritative but not hostile. “Unknown warship at the jump point from Iwa, this is Kommodor Marphissa of the Free and Independent Midway Star System aboard the heavy cruiser
Manticore
. I have been sent to Moorea by our President Iceni to contact Granaile Imallye and to pass on warning of a new and serious threat from the alien enigma species.” She paused. “We have just come from Iwa, where all Syndicate installations were recently destroyed by an enigma attack. There were no survivors. I must speak with Granaile Imallye and the leaders of Moorea as soon as possible. Moorea may be the next target of the enigmas, and their next attack could come at any time. For the people, Marphissa, out.”

“That should get their attention,” Diaz commented. “Why leave a single HuK on sentry duty? It could only deal with the smallest level of threat arriving here.”

“Perhaps Imallye wants to see if whoever arrives immediately attacks the HuK or tries to talk,” Marphissa said. “Put
Manticore
in an orbit that holds us near here until that HuK answers us. President Iceni was very clear that we must not provoke combat with Imallye’s forces.”

Diaz was still maneuvering
Manticore
when a reply came from the HuK. The man whose image appeared before Marphissa wore what had once been a Syndicate executive’s suit, but one bedecked with numerous extra decorations and jewelry. Under the Syndicate, that suit would have been kept pressed and immaculate, but the current owner didn’t seem bothered by the wrinkles and sags in it. “I am Mahadhevan, commander of the
Mahadhevan
,” he announced, “a unit obedient to Granaile Imallye and to no one else.”

“He says that like he expects us to be annoyed,” Diaz commented.

“He’s a worker,” the senior watch specialist declared. “A former worker.” The other specialists nodded in agreement.

It wasn’t too hard to figure out how a former worker would come to be wearing the uniform of a Syndicate executive. When the workers on Syndicate warships mutinied, there was little mercy shown to many of their former supervisors. Marphissa, herself a former executive, was grateful that Iceni had maintained control over the crews of the ships on which she had fostered rebellion against the Syndicate. “He’s not using a title,” Marphissa observed. “Maybe that’s how Imallye runs things.”

Mahadhevan, after pausing to let his audience presumably have time to be outraged by his attitude, spoke again, sounding unconcerned. “You will wait here, in the orbit I give you, while I pass on your request to Imallye. That is all.”

The image vanished.

“Are you certain that we cannot provoke hostilities?” Diaz asked, his voice angry now.

“I’m supposed to avoid it if possible,” Marphissa said, trying not to become equally angry. “That ass is too busy showing off his new status to listen to what I told him. He might delay sending on a message just to emphasize his current exalted state.”