The Lost Stars 01-Tarnished Knight (32 page)

Iceni smiled in a self-mocking way. “I just spent a while traveling. You know what that’s like. All the books and movies you could ask for at your fingertips, but also a lot of time to think if you want to spend your time doing that. Especially in jump space. Nothing is happening outside, so inside you can . . . think.”

“What else did you think about?” he asked, and realized genuine interest had prompted the question.

“Have you ever wondered who you would be if you hadn’t grown up in the Syndicate Worlds?”

“You mean, if I’d been born on some Alliance planet?”

“Perhaps,” Iceni said. “Or perhaps somewhere else. Some star system far away, where they’ve never heard of the Alliance or the Syndicate Worlds or the war. Suppose you had grown up there? Who would you be?”

He could have laughed off the question, but Drakon thought about it. “You mean who would I be if I wasn’t me?”

“Not exactly.”

“Who would you be?” he asked her.

“I don’t know,” Iceni answered. “And that bothers me. Who would I be? I’ve spent my life, as you have, being careful, being afraid, toeing the line, playing the system, sometimes being a victim and sometimes being a victor. When we stuck our necks out, those necks, and the rest of us, ended up here in exile. Which was lucky because those necks could have been chopped off. Now the system is ours. We could make it what we want.”

“Like that thing about the trials?”

“Like that.”

Drakon felt himself really smiling, not just faking the gesture. “I guess that is nice to think about.”

“At least when none of our aides or assistants or guards are around to keep us on guard. It’s like living in a straitjacket sometimes, isn’t it?”

“It is,” Drakon agreed. “Freedom is, well, frightening in some ways. But we’ve never really had it, so we don’t know what it could be.”

“If you could do anything, absolutely anything,
right now
, what would you do?” Iceni asked.

“Um . . .” He didn’t want to answer that honestly, because he had always found women with that kind of curiosity, that kind of intellect, to be extremely attractive. But he doubted that Iceni would be flattered by an expression of physical desire,
right now
, for her, even if the desire was generated by her brain and not the other parts of her. “I don’t know. Run naked into the woods, I guess.”

Iceni laughed. “Really? What an interesting idea. What made you say that?”

“It was the craziest thing I could think of,” Drakon said.

“It sounds like fun. Let me know if you ever decide to do it.”

If only he could trust her.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

DRAKON
preferred simple plans. They had fewer things that could go wrong. Even the simple parts could turn into a total goat rope, but if you kept the parts limited in number, that at least offered a chance to limit the number of goat ropes you would have to deal with when the plan hit reality head-on. “Not bad.”

Malin checked his own readout of the plan, and Morgan gave Drakon a surprised look. They knew that “not bad” wasn’t the same as “good to go.”

“What’s wrong with it?” Morgan asked.

“Only one thing.” He pointed to the display over his desk where the plan for entering the Taroa Star System played out in three dimensions. “You’ve got one freighter loaded with half of one brigade coming in early and alone to surprise and capture the primary orbiting docks before the rest of the force shows up. That’s good. It’s critically important that we capture those docks intact along with whatever is being built there and the skilled workers building it. But your plan calls for you to use part of Gaiene’s brigade, with Morgan along to represent me, while Malin and I follow with Kai’s brigade, the rest of Gaiene’s soldiers and Senski’s local brigade.”

“I can handle it,” Morgan said, bridling.

“Yes, but in action you and Gaiene are both very aggressive. What’s needed there along with Colonel Gaiene is someone to watch the flanks and rear, someone to make sure we get whatever is being built in that main construction dock—”

“I’m just as good at that as Malin, there.”

“—and someone who can immediately deal with the Free Taroans before they realize that we stole their primary docking facility. That’s me.”

It was Malin’s turn to object. “Sir, that lead freighter is going in without any escort. If there is even one light mobile unit in the Taroa Star System, and it is under control of the snakes or Syndicate loyalists, then it could choose to intercept that freighter. That would put you at very great risk.”

“The last word we had is that there are no Syndicate or snake-controlled mobile units at Taroa,” Drakon said. “If one has shown up, it won’t be hanging around the jump point for Midway. It’ll be at the fourth planet, where most of the population is and the snakes and Syndicate loyalists are fighting the other two factions. Our freighter will be able to evade it for long enough if a warship like that comes for us, and once the rest of the force shows up, we’ll have enough firepower to make it run.”

“General, you are too important to risk yourself that way. If the loyalists have any nukes emplaced on those docks, they can blow the entire thing to hell if they realize in time what’s happening. I can—”

“No,” Morgan broke in. “
I
can handle it.”

“You’re both good,” Drakon said, “but this is my job. Morgan, you’ll ride with Colonel Kai, and Malin, you’ll be with Colonel Senski. End of discussion.”

They talked a bit longer about details, working those matters out, then Malin left.

Morgan paused before leaving, however. “If this is because you think that Gaiene would hit on me if we were on the same ship, you’re wrong.”

“That’s not it.” Not that exactly, anyway. The idea of Gaiene and Morgan cooped up together on the freighter for a few days had bothered him, but not for the obvious reasons suggested by Morgan’s allure and Gaiene’s randiness. They both knew when to rein in those aspects of themselves. Just why having them jointly on that freighter for this mission did concern him, Drakon didn’t know, but he had learned to listen to his gut feelings. And he did want to make sure that he, and no one else, was the first one talking to the Free Taroans. “It’s about my being in direct contact with the people on the primary inhabited planet at Taroa. Your ideas of diplomacy are a little more aggressive, and involve a little more firepower, than may be appropriate there.”

Morgan eyed him, then grinned. “Well, yeah. I am better at breaking things. All right, General.”

“You and Malin will be on two different ships. Make sure it stays that way. I don’t want my command staff concentrated on one target.”

Her grin didn’t waver. “You also don’t want your command staff being cut in half if I got fed up with Malin and gutted him like a fish. Got it. But there was another thing.”

“What’s that?”

“Colonel Rogero. Alone here with her royal highness.”

“Do you mean President Iceni?” Drakon asked.

“Yes, sir.” Her smile fading, Morgan stepped closer. “General, we know Rogero had ties to the snakes, we know he has ties to the Alliance—”

“We’ve been over this.”

“—so how do we know he doesn’t have ties to Iceni? How do we know that he’s not feeding her stuff that only those closest to you are aware of?”

Drakon considered the question because he had learned to pay attention to Morgan’s instincts, too. “From the way you framed the question, I assume that you have no proof of that.”

“I can get it.”

“Real proof, Morgan. We’re not the ISS. We don’t find ways to prove someone is guilty by manufacturing evidence.”

She shook her head, looking unfazed by the rebuke. “No. I don’t have evidence. But I’m looking.”

“That’s part of your job,” Drakon said. “Are you suggesting that I leave you behind to keep an eye on Rogero?”

“No, sir. I’m suggesting that you do something about him before it’s too late.”

“No. That’s all, Colonel Morgan.”

* * *

TOGO
stood before Iceni’s desk, his usual impassivity somehow seeming more stern. “I am concerned for your safety, Madam President.”

That didn’t sound good. Iceni focused her full attention on him. “What have you found?”

“General Drakon will be leaving the star system with most of his senior officers.”

“I am aware of that.”

“He will be leaving behind Colonel Rogero,” Togo continued. “The man who earlier attempted to kill you.”

Iceni shook her head. “I’ve double-checked Rogero’s record. He’s an excellent shot. If he had wanted to hit me when I stepped onto the battleship, he would have hit me.”

“We cannot know that with certainty. We cannot know whether he faltered in carrying out his orders.”

“You think that Colonel Rogero is being left behind to see that I am killed? Or to personally kill me?”

Togo nodded sharply. “While General Drakon is outside the star system. He will have perfect deniability.”

It was the flip side of the earlier argument. That didn’t mean the argument didn’t have logic behind it, though. “Do you have any information actually linking Colonel Rogero to an assassination plot aimed at me?”

This time Togo hesitated. “There are some very disturbing rumors concerning Colonel Rogero, Madam President. They call into question his loyalty and who he truly answers to.”

So some form of information about Rogero’s contacts with the ISS and that woman in the Alliance fleet had leaked out. “Rumors?” Iceni pressed. “You know how I feel about rumors.”

“I have nothing solid, but the nature of the rumors indicate that Colonel Rogero may be extremely dangerous. He should be dealt with before—”

“No.” Iceni leaned forward to emphasize her words. “That is not authorized. If you find proof, I want to see it. If all you have is rumors, I will not change my mind.”

“But Madam President—”

“Proof.”

“With all respect, Madam President, the proof may be your death.”

“I don’t think so.” Iceni sat back again, smiling slightly. “And I think too highly of your own abilities to believe that Colonel Rogero would pose a threat while you are nearby.”

Togo stood, irresolute, then nodded. “I will protect you, Madam President.”

“Of course.”

She watched him leave, then sighed and turned back to her work. Maybe Rogero was a threat, but she had no doubt that, whatever his orders, Rogero had deliberately avoided hitting her with that shot. A shot that had killed a snake whose intentions toward her didn’t have to be guessed. For that, Rogero deserved at least a little restraint on her part.

She had told Drakon that she wouldn’t order any more executions without informing him. Assassinations didn’t count as part of that agreement. Prudence, as exercised by Syndicate Worlds’ CEOs, meant erring on the side of ensuring that potential threats were eliminated.

But the words that Kommodor Marphissa had spoken to her, about the need to ensure that only the guilty were punished, still bothered Iceni. And Drakon had seemed to listen when she brought it up. Really listen, as opposed to nodding occasionally to fake interest in what she was saying. Not many people did that, of course, not when she had wielded the power of a CEO and currently the power of a president, but when she was younger, it had happened with discouraging frequency. Nowadays, the fake interest was much more carefully contrived. But Drakon had actually listened.
For a moment there . . . no. You can’t afford to think that way. You let your guard down with him because you were so relieved to get back here safe, with the battleship and in time to scare off that flotilla, and to learn that he hadn’t moved against you. But that doesn’t mean he isn’t planning something, or won’t do something if you give him a good enough opportunity. Never trust anyone, but especially never trust another CEO. And that’s what Artur Drakon is even though he calls himself a general now.

Keep telling yourself that, Gwen. You can’t drop your defenses with him. If he ever got you in bed . . . oh.

Wow.

I wish I hadn’t thought about that.

* * *

AS
Iceni had said, space travel could be very boring even with all the latest entertainment options at your beck and call. Not that a freighter was set up to deal with the entertainment needs of so many soldiers crammed into cargo compartments modified to offer life support and accommodations for half a brigade.

Drakon had the luxury of his own room, a closet-sized affair that offered privacy and little else. Taroa wasn’t too far as jumps went, but the journey to the jump point took a while, then there were four and a half days in jump space, followed by a long, tense trip toward the fourth planet in the Taroa Star System.

There weren’t any mobile forces units at Taroa, but that didn’t mean some couldn’t show up at any moment, and even a HuK or a corvette would be more than a freighter could handle. The small fast attack craft that had once served as defenses just outside planetary atmospheres had been swept up in a recall from Prime months ago, sent to some star systems far from here apparently in a harebrained scheme to fight Black Jack’s fleet. They hadn’t come back and had never been replaced by new units, so even that threat was at least temporarily gone.

Twelve hours’ travel time out from the main docks orbiting the fourth planet, Drakon walked through the modified cargo compartments and other habitable parts of the freighter. The civilian crew members were deferential in the manner of people who knew they could die in a heartbeat if they offended him. Drakon had considered telling one of the nervous crew members that their deference offended him just to see how they would react but decided that would be gratuitously cruel. He knew from his own experiences when he was much more junior in rank that jokes like that were only funny to the superior who made them.

Everywhere else he went, his soldiers greeted him with feigned surprise as they worked on equipment, or studied advancement courses or tactics, or worked on virtual trainers. Drakon knew full well that he was being tracked by his soldiers everywhere he went on the freighter, and they were busy keeping each other apprised of where he was headed next. With some work and deceptive movements, he could probably surprise some of his soldiers in the middle of gambling or unauthorized unarmed-combat competitions, but it wasn’t worth the trouble, especially since his soldiers knew better than to engage in any wild parties so close to a combat operation. So Drakon kept to an easily forecast path, threading through crowded cargo compartments and along passageways lined sometimes on both sides with soldiers sitting awake or asleep. He gave them a calm, confident demeanor that was only part masquerade and they gave him a professional and prepared appearance that was also only part pretense but would be full reality when it came time to attack.

Finally on his way back to his own room to do some final preparations of his own, Drakon came across the brigade commander. Colonel Gaiene sat in a passageway, back against one bulkhead, facing the bulkhead across from him since no one else sat on that side. If they had to describe Conor Gaiene’s appearance in one word, most people would have chosen “dashing.” Or maybe “gallant” or perhaps “swashbuckling.” Even sitting on the deck, he somehow seemed ready to leap up and lead a charge.

That was how he appeared until you noticed his eyes, dark and weary even though Gaiene was still a few years shy of middle age. Now those eyes looked up as Drakon approached. “Good afternoon, General.”

“Good afternoon.” There were few other soldiers near the command deck, and those were giving their brigade commander as much room and privacy as current circumstances allowed, so Drakon took a seat next to Gaiene. “How are you doing?”

“I’m sober. And alone. Alas.” A female soldier walked by, and Gaiene watched her appreciatively though discreetly. “No sleeping with subordinates. Is that rule really necessary?”

“I’m afraid so.”

“Most CEOs don’t care. Most CEOs right now would have a drink in one hand and one of their subordinates in the other.”

Drakon grinned. “I’m not most CEOs.”

“No. You’re not.” Gaiene looked toward the far bulkhead, his expression pensive. “For which I am smart enough to be grateful.”

“You’re brilliant in battle, Con.”

“And the rest of the time I’m a royal pain in the butt.” Gaiene ran one hand through his hair, and Drakon caught a glimpse of the ring on one of his fingers. How long ago had she died? Ever since then, Gaiene had tried to forget her with every woman who was willing and every bottle he could crack open. But he still wore the ring. “I don’t know why you keep me around.”

“I have my reasons.”

“Any other CEO would have had me in a labor camp long before this,” Gaiene remarked. “As one of the guards or as one of the inmates.”