Tarnished Knight Page 2

  Watching the citizens react with mingled fear and fawning submission, the first real and the second probably faked, Drakon thought about Malin’s recent words. What would come next? He had been consumed with figuring out how to kill the snakes without having half of this planet blown apart, and what he had said about not being able to discuss the matter with Iceni was true. They had barely been able to risk the few, occasional, and brief meetings in which coded phrases and words sketched out the agreement to cooperate in taking down the snakes, saving their own hides, and perhaps giving this star system a chance to survive the ongoing collapse of the Syndicate empire. Midway would either get caught in the death throes of the Syndicate Worlds or get free of that tyranny and look out for itself.

  But after that? All he knew was the Syndicate way and, as Malin said, that had failed. How else did you keep things running without everything’s falling apart? The Alliance way? He had learned little about that, and what little he had heard Drakon mistrusted.

  Drakon shook his head with a frown, causing nearby citizens to freeze like rabbits that had seen a wolf and now hoped to avoid notice. He couldn’t afford to think about them at the moment, or about the details of what would replace Syndicate rule here. He had to keep his mind centered on getting through the rest of this day alive.

  More than a few of the citizens warily watching him walk onward probably wondered why a CEO was in public without bodyguards fencing him off, but it wasn’t unheard of for some CEOs to travel occasionally without guards. Drakon had made a habit of that over the last few months, casually mentioning in ways that were certain to get back to Internal Security that he could take care of himself. The snakes wouldn’t question a CEO’s being arrogant and self-assured, though in Drakon’s case his ground forces training and the equipment hidden in his executive suit gave him strong grounds for feeling able to handle most threats as long as he kept varying his routine to make assassination plots difficult.

  It took fifteen minutes to reach the office of CEO Gwen Iceni, the senior Syndicate Worlds’ official in the Midway Star System. But Malin had been right. Any message could be intercepted, and any code could be compromised or broken. If ISS learned of their plans at this point, with Drakon too far committed to pull back, it would trigger a disaster.

  Human bodyguards and automated security systems providing layers of protection for Iceni all passed Drakon without hindrance despite the hidden weapons on him. If Iceni was planning to betray him, it would probably be after his forces had dealt with the snakes that both he and Iceni needed to have cleaned out. And she had surely reached the same conclusion about him, that he would not strike her yet because he needed her to handle those mobile forces still in this star system.

  But all of the screening still took time that he didn’t have to spare, so that Drakon had trouble not showing any irritation or anger as he walked into Iceni’s office.

  That office had the grandeur expected of a star system CEO’s workplace but on a level consistent with Midway’s modest wealth. There was an art to such things in the Syndicate Worlds’ hierarchy. Too much ostentation would have attracted too much attention from her superiors, wondering how much extra Iceni might be skimming off tax revenue and what her ambitions might be, while too little pretension in the size and furnishings would have signaled weakness to both superiors and subordinates. Now Iceni, appearing calm, waved Drakon to a seat, then checked her desk display. “Security in here is tight,” she said. “We can talk freely. You didn’t bring any bodyguards. You trust me that much?”

  “Not really.” Drakon gestured in the general direction of the ISS headquarters complex. “There’s a small but real chance that one of my bodyguards might be partly turned and providing information to the snakes on my movements. Right now, those bodyguards are watching the entrance to my command center, thinking that I’m inside it. Do you trust your bodyguards completely?”

  “I don’t have to,” Iceni replied, not really answering his question. “By the time I do something that might alarm the snakes, you’ll be doing your part. Are your people ready?”

  “We’ll hit the four primary ISS sites on this planet at fifteen hundred, just as planned. I’m personally leading the assault on the main ISS complex in this city, and three trusted subordinate commanders of mine are leading attacks on the secondary complexes in other cities. ISS substations everywhere will be hit by squad-level forces at the same time.”

  Iceni nodded, then glanced upward. “What about the orbiting stations and other facilities off-planet?”

  “I’ve got people ready everywhere the snakes are, except on the mobile forces units, of course.”

  “Those are my problem. You have a lot of soldiers moving around. You’re sure the snakes won’t be alarmed?”

  He hadn’t sat down despite Iceni’s offer, being too keyed up to carry that off well. But he couldn’t show any weakness in front of another CEO, any nerves, or Iceni would surely focus on it like a wolf seeing a stag stumble. Instead, Drakon shrugged in a show of indifference. “I can’t be certain. It’s a very big operation, so it’s possible the snakes will see something. But it shouldn’t be enough to alarm them. We had to rush things over the last few days because of the order from Prime, but everything had already been planned out.”

  Iceni twisted her mouth slightly. “Fortunately for us. I had been warned that the central government was sending out orders to have star system CEOs hauled in by the ISS for loyalty checks, and that quite a few of those CEOs were not being seen again after disappearing into ISS custody; but I didn’t expect the government to send that order here as quickly as it did. Even before you and I launched this plot we wouldn’t have survived such an interrogation session.”

  “You think I have the wrong kinds of skeletons in my closet?” Drakon asked.

  “I know that you do. I did my homework before I made any offers to you, just as I’m sure you did your homework on me before you responded. But we didn’t start planning rebellion any too soon. That order to the ISS is still held up in the comm systems, but it could pop free at any time; and then we can both expect invitations we can’t ignore from CEO Hardrad.”

  “And he’ll also have questions about how that order got held up in the message system,” Drakon noted dryly. “But you did keep it from being delivered for a few days, giving us time to act on our plans. As long as Hardrad doesn’t see that order for a few more hours we’ll be all right. The ISS surveillance systems are disabled while still appearing to be functioning, so we can finally talk freely. The snakes should assume everything is quiet until we launch the attacks. Are you still guaranteeing to handle the mobile forces in this star system?”

  “I’ll take care of the warships.”

  “Warships? We’re going to start using Alliance terminology now?”

  “They did win the war,” Iceni replied, her voice tinged with sarcasm. “But it’s not just an Alliance term. We used to call them warships, too, before the bureaucracy ‘redefined’ and ‘relabeled’ them. We’re going back to our own older terminology. Changing what we call things will be a clear signal to the citizens and our forces that we are no longer subject to the Syndicate Worlds.”

  “After we win, you mean.”

  “Naturally. I’ve got a shuttle lifting me to C-448 in ten minutes. I’ll use that heavy cruiser to rally the other warships here to us.”

  “What’s CEO Kolani’s status?” Drakon asked. “Any change?”

  “Not yet. She’s still in command of the flotilla and still committed to the government on Prime.”

  Drakon frowned upward, as if he could see through the building and up through intervening space to where the small flotilla orbited. “You’ll take her out?”

  “That option fell through,” Iceni replied in as casual a tone as if she were referring to a minor business deal. “Both agents of mine who were within reach of her have already be
en neutralized by Kolani’s security, so assassination isn’t one of our choices.”

  He felt a chill run down his back at the thought of what that flotilla could do to this planet. “You promised me that you’d handle the mobile forces.” Morgan’s words came back to mock him. If they were stupid enough to believe the promise of a CEO . . .

  “I will handle them,” Iceni said, her voice hardening. “We can’t wait for better options. Even if that order from Prime hadn’t forced our hands, another high-priority message came in this morning when that courier ship popped in from the hypernet gate, then popped out again after sending its messages to us. CEO Kolani has been ordered to take almost all of the mobile forces here back to Prime immediately. We need those forces to defend this star system once we achieve control. I’ve kept that order stuck within the comm system, too, but a high-priority message can’t be held up forever.”

  “How certain are you of success with taking over the flotilla?” Drakon asked.

  “Certain enough. Some of the ships are already mine, including C-448. I have enough individual unit commanders committed to me to be able to beat Kolani. If Kolani refuses to go along with us, then she goes down, along with any warships that stay loyal to her. It’s not ideal. We could have used every one of those warships, and now some are likely to be destroyed. You just hold up your end and wipe out the snakes, then keep a lid on the security situation down here while I’m busy up there. We have to maintain order. The mob may take the destruction of the snakes as a license for anarchy. Once we’ve declared independence, you and I have to keep our control of this star system firm. We want ours to be the last revolt in this star system.”

  Iceni had obviously thought about the questions that Malin had raised about what to do after the snakes were dead. Drakon hoped that Iceni’s ideas were ones he could live with. He also hoped they didn’t involve getting rid of the one other CEO, Drakon, who would be able to challenge her authority here after Hardrad was taken care of.

  Iceni closed out her displays, then stood up and walked toward the door. “Any other questions?”

  Drakon nodded, eyeing her again. “Yeah. Why are you really doing this?”

  She stopped and gazed back at him. “You don’t think it’s self-interest?”

  “I think that self-interest could have led in other directions. Getting me to sign off on rebellion, then turning me in to the snakes might have satisfied them that you were a good little loyal CEO and provided you with a cover for your own actions.”

  Iceni smiled very briefly and humorlessly. “Then I’ll tell you that my motivation is to protect myself, this star system, and surrounding star systems. I need a safe place to maintain power and influence. Midway is the best place in this region to do that because we have the hypernet gate and also jump points to so many surrounding star systems. The Syndic system failed. That system started the war, failed to win it, and ultimately lost it. That system stripped the Reserve Flotilla from the Midway Star System, the only thing holding off the alien enigma race, and left us almost totally defenseless when the enigmas attacked us. The Alliance fleet had to save us. The Alliance, which we have always been taught is weak, disorganized, and corrupt because they let the citizens have a voice in who rules. You and I both know all too well how disorganized and corrupt the Syndicate system can be, and now it has proven to be weak as well.

  “We need to try something else, and we can’t depend on anyone else. Maybe we’ll die trying, but I might well die anyway if I tried to cut and run with whatever wealth I could stuff onto a ship while this star system is threatened by the enigmas and by the chaos in some star systems that is following the collapse of Syndicate Worlds’ authority. So, I’m a pragmatist, Artur Drakon. Those are my reasons. Do you believe me?”

  “No.” Drakon returned the same kind of smile that Iceni had given him. “Why didn’t you run when the enigmas threatened to attack if you’re so pragmatic?”

  She paused as if deciding how to reply. “Because I was responsible for everyone in this star system, and I wouldn’t run when they were all trapped here.”

  “You’re an idealist as well as a pragmatist?” Drakon asked, letting some sarcasm into his own tone now.

  “You might say that, as long as you’re not being insulting.” Iceni gave him a smile which was mocking this time. “Don’t you believe I can be part idealist?”

  “Not if it’s a very big part. Nobody survives as a CEO if they’re in any way an idealist.”

  “Oh? And how did you end up at Midway?”

  Drakon smiled sardonically at her. “I’m sure you already know that. The snakes tried to arrest one of my sub-CEOs, but someone tipped her off and she disappeared before they could grab her. I got blamed, but no one could prove anything, so I got exiled rather than shot.”

  Iceni looked back at him steadily. “You don’t call someone willing to run those risks to protect a subordinate an idealist? What would you call a leader whose subordinates and soldiers were so loyal to him that the Syndicate sent them all here to get them isolated?”

  “I do what I think is . . . appropriate,” Drakon said. “I can’t control how others see my actions or react to them. And whether or not I survive is still an open-ended question. I’ll do what I have to do, and I know the sort of things you’ve done in the past to maintain your power. But if you want to pretend those are your reasons, I’m willing to go along.”

  “Fine. As long as you don’t double-cross me. If you do—”

  “I’ll die?” Drakon asked, doing his best to sound nonchalant even though he was itching to rejoin his soldiers.

  Iceni’s voice was just as relaxed as Drakon’s as she answered. “You’ll wish that you had died.” She opened the door and walked out, then waited for Drakon to exit as well before closing and alarming the entrance. “Good luck.” With that, Iceni headed off at a quick pace, her bodyguards taking up positions on all sides.

  * * *

  AN hour and a half later, Artur Drakon knelt inside another building, only a single, hair-thin recon probe sticking out from his shoulder and over the edge of the nearby window, scanning the outer sections of the ISS headquarters complex through the sensors on his combat armor. The civilians who normally occupied this office were under guard in the basement, along with everyone else who worked in the building. In their place, soldiers in combat armor huddled in the halls and inner rooms, waiting for the assault on the ISS complex to begin. High on one wall, an ISS surveillance camera stared blankly into the room. Somewhere in the headquarters complex, systems were reviewing the feed supposedly coming from that camera and seeing only routine activity by the civilians who normally worked here. “Report,” Drakon ordered.

  About one-third of the way around the perimeter, Malin’s voice came from his position. “Everything looks routine. No problem.”

  On the other side of the perimeter, Morgan responded in a tone that mimicked Malin. “Everything looks routine. We’ve got a problem.”

  “What’s the problem?” Drakon asked. They were speaking over a shielded comm line run overland through every obstacle. A major pain in the neck, but the only way to minimize the chances of any ISS surveillance gear that hadn’t been sabotaged picking up some of the transmissions. Two tin cans on a string. Millennia of communication advances and in the end we’re still depending on two tin cans on a string to make sure no one else hears us.

  “The problem,” Morgan insisted, “is that everything looks normal. Even though we’ve spoofed the surveillance networks, the snakes must have picked up something from all of their other distributed monitoring gear. But they haven’t reacted at all that we can see. No messages to you or anyone else about the troop movements or anything. Routine security around the complex as far as we can tell. It stinks.”

  “They could be uncertain,” Malin argued. “Trying to decipher the fragments that they’re seeing. We c
an’t afford to blow the element of surprise.”

  “It’s already blown, moron.”

  “That’s enough.” Drakon thought about Morgan’s argument as he studied the ISS complex again. “I haven’t had any messages from the snake brass today. They usually jump on me every day about what my troops are doing just to let me know I’m being watched. I think Morgan’s right. Has anyone seen any vipers moving around?”

  “No,” Malin said.

  “No,” Morgan added with a touch of triumph.

  “Then everything isn’t routine. There are usually a couple of vipers outside running laps or exercising some other way, aren’t there?” Drakon blew out an angry breath. The ISS special forces, nicknamed vipers, had an ugly reputation for brutality and for fighting ability. An independent combat force, answering only to Internal Security, and thus doubly hated by the military of the Syndicate Worlds.

  “You think the vipers are activated?” Malin asked, then answered himself. “We have to assume they are.”

  “Right. Armored and ready to fight. This screws up the assault plan.”

  Morgan came back on. “We need to hit them with everything we’ve got. If we go in piecemeal like we planned we’ll get cut to ribbons by those vipers.”

  “If we go in all out we blow our chances of surprise!” Malin said. “The sooner the snakes realize we’re actually launching an all-out assault on their headquarters complex, the longer they’ll have to activate any doomsday retaliation devices they still have control over. They’re going to be overconfident, certain that they can handle whatever we’ve snuck in to hit them here. We have to take them out before they realize we have enough force on hand to take the complex.”

  They were both right, Drakon realized. “We need to modify the assault plan. Infiltration to clear our way inside isn’t going to work now even with scouts in full stealth gear, but we can’t send in everything at once without presenting massed targets and panicking CEO Hardrad into setting off his dead-man retaliation devices. Instead of sneaking in by squads, we’ll go in by platoons around the entire perimeter at once and shoot our way in. The first barrage is to include the full range of concealment rounds. Sequence the platoons as they jump off to keep from clustering too many personnel in one spot and to keep the snakes from spotting how many soldiers we have here before we’ve knocked out their external surveillance. Once inside, every platoon is to advance as fast as it can toward the snake operations center. The vipers will be able to block some of the routes, but there aren’t enough vipers to stop platoons coming in along every possible approach. How long to get the revised plan uploaded and everyone ready to jump off?”