The Lost Stars: Shattered Spear (20 page)

“Why would she come to Iwa?” Bradamont asked. “If Midway places enough forces at Iwa to deal with Imallye, then Imallye could just go around through Laka and hit Midway.”

“Imallye wants President Iceni,” Malin said calmly. “If she is at Iwa, personally supervising our forces—”

“I don’t like that idea,” Drakon growled, feeling angry at Malin for suggesting it. “President Iceni is not bait for a trap.”

“She would be commanding a substantial portion of our warships, sir. If she were aboard the battleship
Midway
, she would be both well protected and able to strike back.”

Drakon shook his head. “That’s what the Syndicate thought when they set up their ambush at Ulindi. I’m sure Happy Hua felt completely safe aboard that Syndicate battleship, but there’s nothing left of her except dust floating in a debris field orbiting Ulindi.”

Iceni had given him a sharp look. “General,” she said, “I have to admit that Colonel Malin’s plan has merit. Our biggest problem is that we face two major threats, the enigmas and Imallye, and have to worry about splitting our forces to defend against them. But if we can suck both the enigmas and Imallye into Iwa, the enigmas by attacking their hidden base and Imallye by offering my presence, then we will be able to maximize the forces with which we can confront those threats.”

“You’re forgetting the Syndicate,” Drakon grumbled. “That’s a third threat.”

“The Syndicate wouldn’t have tried an attack with four cruisers if they had something more substantial on hand or expected soon. We hurt them badly at Ulindi, and we are but one of numerous star
systems that are rebelling against the Syndicate, whose forces are stretched thin.”

“Or it was an attempt to wear us down before a bigger force hits us,” Drakon said, wondering himself if he was arguing plausible threats or simply trying to dissuade Iceni from considering Malin’s idea.

“Perhaps,” Iceni commented. “Captain Bradamont, as the closest thing to a neutral observer available to us, what do you think of the way the Syndicate tried to take out
Pele
and
Gryphon
?”

Bradamont made a face. “The crew of the heavy cruiser that surrendered said the light cruisers were not crewed at all, operating on automated targeting and attack routines. The transmissions coming from them were animated on the fly by routines designed to react as well as they could to whatever was happening. That could mean that after all of their losses the Syndicate Worlds is so short on trained crew members that they couldn’t afford to lose even skeleton crews on a suicide mission. Or it could mean that they didn’t trust a human crew to carry out the planned attack.”

“What did they tell us about other Syndicate forces in this region?”

“They didn’t know of any,” Bradamont said. “But, since the senior officers on the heavy cruiser died, and one of the snakes aboard managed to fry most of the classified data before he was killed, that might just mean the few junior officers who survived the battle and the mutiny were not given that information.”

“Junior officers are rarely told about the big picture,” Gozen said.

“What do you think of Colonel Malin’s suggested plan?” Iceni asked.

Bradamont cast a wary glance at Drakon but spoke without hesitation. “I believe it is a promising concept, and perhaps the best option available if the problem of how to capture the enigma base can be addressed.”

Iceni looked at Drakon. “You’re unhappy with the idea, though. Do you consider it too risky?”

Drakon took a long moment to answer as he considered possible replies. But the real reason for his objection, one he had only fully realized when everyone else was talking, was one he did not wish to discuss in front of others. “I would like to speak to you about my reasons in private. Just the two of us.”

“Certainly.” Iceni waved the others present toward the door. “Wait for us outside and see that we are not disturbed unless there is an emergency.”

Bradamont, Malin, and Gozen left, closing the door behind them. There wasn’t anything unusual about two high-ranking individuals holding a private conference. Iceni waited until the security lights above the door glowed green to indicate a secure environment before she turned an inquiring look on Drakon. “All right. We’re alone. What are your reasons?”

Drakon found it unexpectedly hard to speak. “I don’t like the plan.”

“Artur,” Iceni said with a sigh, “I can’t work with that. I need reasons.”

“My reasons are difficult to explain,” Drakon said, frowning at the surface of the desk in front of him.

She sounded frustrated. “Do you dislike the strategy? Do you think there’s another, better approach?”

“I don’t—” Drakon set his mouth in an angry line. “I admit that the strategy has potential. But I do not like it.”

“You’ve made that clear. But we have to evaluate this idea on its merits,” Iceni insisted. “Impartially and purely in terms of its likelihood to succeed.”

Drakon met her eyes, struggled with himself, and with every bit of
don’t expose yourself, don’t trust anyone, don’t admit to any potential vulnerability or weakness
that he had been taught by the Syndicate, then finally said it. “I can’t do that.”

She eyed him in return, puzzled. “You can’t do what?”

“Evaluate it impartially. This plan involves a serious threat to you.”

“And I’m your most important ally,” Iceni said patiently. “I understand that you would face some difficulties maintaining order at Midway if I was killed, but—”

“Dammit, Gwen, I’m not talking about you as an ally! I . . . don’t want to see you hurt! I don’t want to face a universe without you.”

She seemed perplexed, then revealed growing astonishment. “Artur Drakon, was that your idea of an avowal of affection?”

He looked away, not sure what to say. “Call it what you want. I thought you might also . . . Sometimes it seemed that you . . . that you wouldn’t mind if I . . . felt like that. But you don’t seem to be happy about it.”

“I’m . . . surprised. I thought your tastes in women ran a lot more exotic than a beat-up run-of-the-mill type like me.”

Drakon stared at her, trying to figure out if Iceni was joking. “No. And that’s not how I see you.”

“Really?” She leaned her head on one fist, watching him. “Something must be wrong with your vision, and since I know you’re physically all right, the problem must be mental or emotional or both. Just what is influencing how you see me, Artur Drakon?”

He struggled for words again. “I . . . care about what happens to you.”

“You already said that. Now, you are blocking a perfectly viable plan for dealing with serious threats to this star system. I think I deserve to know exactly why you don’t want to consider that plan.”

She sounded absolutely serious. Had all the times he thought she might have been interested in him just been misinterpretations on his part? One CEO could never trust another CEO. That was a basic rule of the Syndicate, a rule both he and Gwen had seen proven by the treachery and double-crossing actions of other CEOs while they were still part of the Syndicate, a rule that had kept them at arm’s length from each other for some time. But he had come to trust Gwen, to more than trust her, and he had thought she might feel the same way. He wasn’t going to back down without finding out for certain. Drakon
steeled himself and said the words. “It’s because . . . I . . . want to form a permanent joint venture with you, Gwen.”

Iceni’s eyes widened. “You do?”

“I’m . . . pretty sure I do.” He couldn’t tell how she took that. “I just . . . it’s . . .”

She held up a restraining hand. “You know, Artur, if I didn’t like you, I’d keep forcing you to try to be articulate when discussing your feelings regarding . . . my value as a partner. But I’m going to have mercy on you.”

“Meaning what?” He was feeling cross now, upset by his inability to speak clearly. He had led forces in combat, calling out orders without hesitation as enemy forces rained death all around, but now he found his tongue tied and words sticking in his throat.

She smiled. A genuine, affectionate smile. “You big oaf. I’ve been trying to avoid feeling the same way about you. Unsuccessfully trying. You are an exceptional man, with enormous potential as a partner, as well as being exasperating and difficult at times. But I know I am also exasperating and difficult at times. Let’s have dinner tonight, just you and me, no one else, no recordings of anything by anyone, and talk about not just threats and strategies and problems, but about each other and what we expect from the deal. If we’re going to make this cooperation between us into a long-term, binding deal, we need to have a chance to discuss it.”

He could not help smiling back at her. “Like any other business deal, huh?”

“Oh, hell, no. A very special business deal. We’ll have dinner at my headquarters and see how it goes. All right? And even if it all goes well, that plan may still have to be on the table, Artur, unless we can come up with a good alternative. I had to see you off to Ulindi. You may have to see me off to Iwa.” She stood up, then took two quick steps and kissed him quickly before stepping back again. “Don’t disappoint me. Please don’t disappoint me.”

Drakon stood as well, still smiling and still feeling the touch of her lips on his. “I don’t let anyone down, Gwen.”

She laughed. “Ah, yes. My loyal knight, his armor a bit worn and torn, but still determined to fight to the last for what he believes in. Do you really believe in me?”

That one was easy. “Yes.”

Iceni looked away, still smiling. “I’ll see you at dinner.”

She left, head high and a bounce in her step. Colonel Malin, waiting outside, gave her a speculative look before following her.

Drakon walked out of the conference room and saw both Bradamont and Gozen watching Iceni leave. Both women switched their gazes to him, neither revealing anything in their expressions. For some reason that irritated Drakon.

“I’m going to be having dinner with President Iceni tonight,” he told Gozen. “To . . . discuss the proposed plan. You won’t be needed. It’ll be a private dinner.”

“Yes, sir,” Gozen said, poker-faced. “Is it possible the meeting will run late?”

Drakon’s gaze on her sharpened, but Gozen wasn’t betraying any hint of what she was thinking. “Possibly.”

“I’ll arrange transportation, sir,” Gozen said.

“Thank you.” Drakon walked toward his office, fighting off a temptation to look backward suddenly to see if Bradamont and Gozen were daring to crack smiles.

COLONEL
Bran Malin stood silently in a slice of shadow just large enough to cover him, trying not to move and breathing as shallowly as possible to avoid giving off any signs that someone could spot. The city was unusually active this late at night, but there were still many areas where silence and stillness reigned.

President Iceni had told him to take the night off without explaining why, but it had not been difficult to find out that General Drakon was to be her guest this evening. Malin had long wanted to encourage such a relationship, but had been at a loss for how to do so. He knew that physical intimacy by itself was unlikely to produce any good results, and that in theory a strong relationship between Drakon and Iceni would involve emotional ties and intimacy.

In theory. Malin gazed into the darkness, remembering the woman who had raised him as her own. She had loved him, and he had thought he loved her in return. But then he had learned of his real mother and sought her out. Roh Morgan. A woman who knew a great deal about anger and pain, but seemingly nothing about any softer emotions
except as tools to wield against the targets of her plans. And Malin had found he had a natural skill at the same sort of machinations. Inherited, apparently, along with who knew what else.

He had walled off his feelings as much as possible, trying to bend his work toward some greater goal that might prove he had overcome his mother’s legacy. There was an irony in the fact that both he and Morgan had fixed on Drakon as the means to achieve their ends, though those ends differed hugely.

Was she dead? Malin stayed motionless, gazing into the night, wondering why he felt a conviction that Morgan had somehow survived the destruction of the snake alternate headquarters on Ulindi.

Neither Drakon nor Iceni trusted him as much as they once had, but that was fine. It wasn’t about him. What mattered was that the two former CEOs seemed to have finally reached out to each other in a way that should help preserve this experiment at Midway, this attempt to build a government and a society that were both strong and free.

Malin inhaled slowly and deeply, repeating in his mind a mantra he had recited countless times.
I have been a slave to my past, but I will free myself by freeing others from their pasts.

His instruments registered a flicker of motion in an area half a block down and to the left, an area that should be empty at this time of night. Malin moved like a wraith through the darkness, determined that this time he would run his quarry to earth.

Move. Hide. Pause. Move. His prey was moving with great care as well. Did the prey know of the hunt this time? Probably not. There had been no moves so easy to spot that they were obviously intended to draw Malin on. And though the path his prey wended through the dark areas of the city veered in direction to remain well concealed, that path kept coming back to a course centered on the region near the main spaceport.

A rat skittered away through the trash, causing Malin to freeze once more while waiting to see if the movement had attracted attention. Part of him mentally noted the state of this back alley and the need to direct
that those responsible clean it up, while another part wondered at the absurdity of being concerned about trash in an alley while engaged in a deadly pursuit, and yet a third part pondered the symbolism of the fact that humanity had brought rats to the stars.

And, somewhere inside, part of Malin wondered if Morgan had experienced those kinds of complex, cascading thought streams. It had always been impossible to ask her, and the question might have led Morgan into a line of investigation that would have had her discovering that Malin was her son. Morgan’s reaction to that might have rivaled a nova in its destructive fury.

Malin moved cautiously again as he spotted more traces of his quarry on his sensor readouts. Still tending toward the spaceport. Interesting. Were more snake agents expected, slipping in among cargo shipments and passengers?

But as he neared the spaceport itself, Malin gradually became aware of a third player in the stealthy pursuit. Somewhere, there off to his left, someone was pacing both him and his target. That someone moved like a ghost, the signs of their presence so subtle that Malin saw them as much by instinct as by indications on his sensors. Was the third party an ally of Malin’s quarry? Or another agent of Drakon’s or Iceni’s pursuing the same target as he? But Malin knew of no other agent with that level of skill.

The path finally led to a large warehouse near the security boundaries of the spaceport. The walls, lights, and defenses around the spaceport glowed with a riot of data on Malin’s sensors. He realized with grudging respect that this location had been chosen because the noise from those systems, as well as the fairly high levels of foot and vehicle traffic, helped mask those who did not want their presence noted.

A link using the highest level of security override disarmed the lock and alarm on one of the doors. Malin studied the pingback from that command, seeing that the security software had distinct signs of snake coding. Sloppy of them to leave that kind of clear sign, but
snakes sometimes underestimated the intelligence and capabilities of their opponents, or were so rushed in carrying out a command that corners were cut.

He glided inside the warehouse, every sense alert and every sensor built into his clothing at maximum sensitivity. Cargo containers were stacked in neat rows, each container bearing security stamps from dozens of star systems.

The barest noise reached Malin, something out of place in this warehouse. His weapon in hand, Malin ceased moving and crouched next to a stack of cargo containers.

He waited. Often, in this kind of life-and-death game, waiting was a winning tactic. Someone would get impatient. Someone would move. The one who waited as if turned to stone would eventually see the one who could not wait long enough.

Whoever else was in here was not linked in to the city’s official security software as warehouse guards or police would be. It was always possible that they were nonetheless innocent of any crime, but Malin waited with grim resolve, willing to kill the innocent if necessary to ensure he got the guilty. President Iceni would not approve. Neither would General Drakon. Which was why Malin took the burden of the action on himself. He would pay any price demanded by fate for his actions, and spare the others that guilt.

There. Two of them, one covering the other as they eased through the warehouse, checking out each lane between rows of cargo containers. The warehouse security scanners should have spotted any intruders, but the searchers were smart enough to know that anyone who could get inside without triggering any alarms was also likely smart enough to have blinded the security scanners to his or her presence.

They were getting close. Malin tried to spot any other movement in the warehouse, but failed. Moving with glacial slowness, he lined up his pistol on the figure who was farthest from him. Then he waited some more.

The lead searcher, gliding closer and closer to Malin, suddenly made a tiny, betraying movement. He or she had spotted some indication of Malin.

Malin fired, slamming a shot directly into the searcher to the rear. The lead searcher, unaware that their companion had already been dropped, swung a weapon around rather than seeking shelter first. That gave Malin time to twitch his own weapon to one side and fire again.

The second searcher was still falling when another shot tore through the warehouse behind and to one side of Malin.

He dropped, rolled, and sprinted into a location that offered some cover from that direction, then paused, breathing slowly and deeply, straining his senses for signs of whoever had fired.

They were moving. Two of them. Racing from cover to cover, never exposing themselves for more than brief moments, not to pin down and kill Malin, but along the edge of the warehouse and then, before he could react, out into the streets beyond.

The warehouse felt dead now, no one present except Malin himself. He stood up and walked to the two he had shot, carefully checking over the bodies from a few meters away in case of booby traps they could be wearing that their deaths might have activated.

Finally getting to one of the bodies, Malin searched it carefully and dispassionately, moving gently because he didn’t want to trigger anything else and not out of respect for what was no longer a living foe. He found identification documents that looked completely legitimate but did not explain at all why this person had been in this warehouse at this time with a weapon. Malin felt sure this had been a snake agent, perhaps recently arrived, and that the other dead searcher was as well.

He called General Drakon’s security forces, not wanting to turn this matter over to the police who were still tainted by their long history enforcing Syndicate laws. The security specialists would sweep this warehouse and the bodies for any signs of who they really were, what their plans had been, and who else might be helping them.

While Malin waited, he searched for and found the impact point for the shot that someone else had fired. It had been nowhere near him or any line of sight to him. Turning and locating the spot where he had awaited the searchers, Malin could see that anyone who had been aiming from here would have had a clean shot at him. Someone else, then, had fired at a person who was about to shoot Malin. Then pursued that someone through and out of the warehouse.

He was still standing there, going over questions to which he had no answers, when Drakon’s security forces arrived. “See if there is any trace at all of anyone else having been in this building,” Malin ordered them, then headed back toward Iceni’s headquarters.

*   *   *

DRAKON
stifled a yawn, determined not to betray by any signs how little sleep he had had the night before. Before him, virtual windows showed his three brigade commanders, Colonels Kai, Safir, and Rogero. “That’s what we’re facing at Iwa,” Drakon concluded. “I want you to get with your best people and see if anyone can figure out how to take that alien base without it and everyone in our force getting blown to hell. Are there any questions?”

“We are to concentrate on attack scenarios?” Kai asked. “A long-term siege to starve out the enigmas is not on the table?”

“That’s correct,” Drakon said, not surprised that Kai had raised that question. Kai, slow and methodical, thought in defensive terms. Which could be a very useful mind-set in certain conditions. Just not this one. “We don’t have the luxury of that much time.”

The windows disappeared, leaving him alone, and Drakon did yawn this time. He cut the yawn short as a message came in from Colonel Malin outlining his activities of the night before. Attached was a summary of the results of the security search of the building where the fight had occurred. The two killed by Malin had both been wearing some special surveillance and security equipment that no one but a
snake should possess, confirming their identities. But nothing on them or in the building offered any clues as to who their contacts were or what their mission had been. That wasn’t what bothered Drakon the most, though.

Drakon called Malin. “Why wasn’t I notified of this last night? You’re acting as the president’s aide right now, but you are still supposed to report security incidents to me directly as well as notifying President Iceni.”

“There was no need for immediate notification, General,” Malin replied. “The incident was over.”

“According to your report, two other unknown individuals were involved and escaped,” Drakon said. “That doesn’t sound like
over
to me.”

Malin paused before answering. “The snake site has been neutralized and shut down. The two unidentified individuals are a long-term issue, General. I will pursue that matter to its conclusion.”

“That’s not the point.”

“No, sir. I understand. I should have informed you immediately.”

It was only at that point that the real reason why Malin hadn’t informed him right away popped into Drakon’s head. He had been with Iceni last night, and Malin had interpreted that as a Do Not Disturb sign. “Colonel, I want it clearly understood that I should be informed of important developments at any time. That has not changed.”

“Yes, sir. In the future, I will do so.”

“Do you think one of those people you encountered was President Iceni’s former assistant Togo?”

Malin nodded with every sign of confidence. “I have no doubt that the one who was preparing to kill me was Togo, sir.”

“What about the other one? The one who apparently saved your life?”

This time Malin took several seconds to answer. “I have no idea, General. I was only aware of that second person for a few brief seconds, not enough time to form any impressions.”

“Yet, whoever it was, was better than you, and at least as good as Togo?” Drakon pressed.

Malin nodded again. “I realize that may narrow the list of possible suspects a great deal, sir.”

“Roh Morgan could have gotten back to this star system, and back onto this planet, without being spotted,” Drakon continued. “But if she is alive, and she did come back here, why is she hiding her presence?”

“I could only speculate, sir.”

“Then speculate, dammit!”

“Yes, sir.” Malin hesitated, a hint of distress crossing his features. “Colonel Morgan knows that her status in this unit has been compromised. Before she left for Ulindi, she was confined to quarters. If Colonel Morgan believes that she has some task to complete that revealing herself to you would hinder, then she would remain hidden from you in order to complete that task.”

“Why not at least drop me a message? If Morgan is trying to stay hidden, there’s no way anyone could find her.”

“Yes, sir,” Malin agreed. “But if you knew she was here, and you instituted a search for her, it might tip off her target.”

“You think she’s hunting Togo?”

“The events of last night would seem to imply that, General.”

Drakon leaned back, eyeing Malin. “So you think Morgan is hiding her presence from everyone because she thinks that’s the only way she could track down and nail Togo.” What had his last orders been to Morgan regarding Togo? He had told her more than once not to go after him, but had he ever modified that order in a way that Morgan could interpret as authorization to hunt Togo now? No. He was sure he had not allowed that sort of exception, not before Togo vanished while Drakon himself was still on Ulindi and unaware of the desertion of Iceni’s aide.