The Lost Stars 01-Tarnished Knight (39 page)

“All I know is what I know about her. She’s ambitious. She has no moral qualms. She rarely fails in what she attempts.”

Iceni breathed a soft laugh. “Why wasn’t she a CEO?” That led to another thought, a worrisome one. “Do you think that she means to supplant me?”

“It’s possible. It may be that Drakon is her planned tool in that.”

“Which one of us is in more danger from her then? You or me? Or Drakon himself?”

“I believe that Drakon is safe from her but cannot be certain. Between you and me, I don’t know,” Malin said. “If I am killed, look beneath the surface of whatever happens. I haven’t been able to learn who tried to kill Rogero. Maybe she was involved in that, too. Rogero and Gaiene are very close to Drakon, Kai only a little less so. If my guesses are right, in the long run, Morgan is going to want to isolate Drakon from any influences but her, anyone who might lead him in directions other than whatever she wants.” Malin looked directly at Iceni. “That includes you. I’m not sure of General Drakon’s feelings, but, at the least, he respects you.”

“But he doesn’t trust me,” Iceni said.

“No. He trusts me, and Morgan, and Rogero, Gaiene, and Kai.”

“He trusts you, and you tell me his secrets,” Iceni pressed.

Malin paused again. “I am loyal to General Drakon.”

Are you? What is
your
long-term plan, Colonel Malin? Not that you would tell me. How much of what you’ve just said is truth as you know it, and how much is spin aimed at convincing me to do what you want?
“Loyal to General Drakon? You have yet to prove that to me.”

“It is probably impossible for me to prove my loyalty to him to your satisfaction.”

“It would be easy,” Iceni said. “Kill her.”

“Morgan? No.”

“Are you at least watching her?” Iceni demanded.

Malin’s lips twitched in a twisted smile. “I do little but watch her. And I never turn my back on her.”

“Then if you won’t do what seems to be needed in regards to Morgan, at least keep a close eye on General Drakon as well and see if you can prevent him from doing anything
else
stupid.”

“I am watching him. I admit that I let my guard down at Taroa. But she won’t get to him again like that, and if she tries, I have no doubt that General Drakon will reject her this time.”

“You may have no doubts, but I have mine,” Iceni said.
Men. If only they could be counted upon to use their brains to make their decisions for them.

Granted that their male fallibilities made it much easier for women to use them as tools.

Women like Morgan.

Women like her.
You won’t have Drakon, Colonel Morgan. I may not decide to want him, but you won’t have him.
“And I will watch you, Colonel Malin,” Iceni said.

Another very brief smile. “I never doubt that I am being watched.”

“Keep me informed,” Iceni finished, turning to walk off, knowing that behind her Malin would also blend into the crowd of citizens, there and yet invisible to the surveillance systems monitoring everything said and done in the city.

Almost everything, that is.

Iceni listened as she walked. There were important things that could be learned when you moved among the citizens, indistinguishable from one of them. They said things that you would never hear otherwise, things murmured too low to be distinguished from background noise by the omnipresent surveillance systems.

A lot of talk about Taroa, and most of that happy. The snakes were gone from there. We had helped our neighbors and asked for nothing in return. That Drakon was a great general. There’s a new trade agreement. Ships will be coming through more often again. Good news. Good news.

Did you hear about President Iceni? What Buthol is saying? I don’t believe it. But she was our CEO before she was our president. Everyone knows about CEOs. Isn’t she different? Then why no election for president yet?

Iceni kept her head down until she reached the outer entrance to the bolt-hole, passing through a dozen locks and safeguards of various kinds before feeling safe enough to remove her coat with a heavy sigh. Who was this Buthol? Why were the citizens so full of praise for Drakon but asking questions about her? Was that Drakon’s work, sowing propaganda on his own behalf among the citizens?

It was late. She was tired and needed to think, to have time to absorb what Malin had said, to let her subconscious mull over how Malin had looked and acted.

President Iceni went to bed.

* * *

THE
next morning, feeling oddly as if she were hungover without having been drunk the night before, thus getting punishment without benefit of having done anything to deserve it, Iceni drank a breakfast malt to wash down some pain pills.

She sat at her desk, wondering where to begin. The battleship. The latest report from Kommodor Marphissa had come in forty-eight hours ago. There was a constant status feed as well, of course, but . . .

Iceni caught herself on the verge of sending a hotly worded message to Marphissa. The Kommodor had done nothing to earn a tongue-lashing.

But that man she had heard about last night, on the other hand. Buthol?

A quick query on her news terminal popped up a list of articles as well as opinion pieces written by Buthol himself.

Buthol wanted elections now. Buthol suspected the President of diverting funds and demanded a full accounting of tax revenues. Buthol argued that only a full, perfect democracy of one person, one vote, in which every important matter was decided by the people rather than representatives, would be in the best interests of everyone.

The news reports all agreed that Buthol had few followers yet but was attracting more and more attention with his speeches and essays.

Iceni read it all with growing anger.
Who the hell does he think he is? Accusing me of corruption? Of wanting to be a dictator just because I won’t hand the mob control of this star system the instant someone like him demands it?

“Togo! In here now!”

He arrived with a speed that suggested her tone of voice had been unusually demanding. “Yes, Madam President.”

“Why the hell haven’t you told me about this Kater Buthol?”

Togo blinked, then checked his reader. “Ah. Yes. He has few followers. He is being watched.”

“He is getting a great deal of attention. He is personally attacking
me
.”

“Madam President, you instructed us to let the low-level elections proceed without interference—”

“
Unless
something said or done constituted a threat!” She glared at Togo. “Hasn’t this Kater Buthol broken
any
laws?”

Togo shook his head. “He has been very careful to tread just on the legal side of everything. You could order him arrested, but the charges would have to be based on fabricated evidence. I could have that evidence ready by this evening.”

“That won’t help! The last thing I need is to give this clown more attention by making him into some kind of martyr.” She sat back and made a disgusted gesture. “This Buthol is exactly the sort of problem I don’t need on my plate at the moment! Find a solution! That’s all.”

“Yes, Madam President.” Togo left with more swiftness than usual.

She spent the rest of the day burying herself in work and trying to catch up on the low-level elections, which were supposed to alleviate pressure among the citizens for change. It wasn’t at all clear that the elections were accomplishing that goal.

Most disturbing were the occasional suggestions that General Drakon would make a good president. That for the good of the star system, and with the looming threat of a Syndicate attack, a new leader might be needed who could deal with such dangers. Had Drakon arranged those whispers? That was worrisome. But not as worrisome as the possibility that the citizens were coming to feel that way on their own. Obviously, there was a need to raise her profile with the people. They needed to know who had won the battles here and at Kane, who had acquired the battleship, who had forgotten far more about mobile forces tactics than General Drakon had ever learned.

By the time Iceni went to sleep, she had worked up the outline for such a public-relations campaign.

* * *

THE
next morning, she made the error of ordering a larger breakfast, only to almost choke on a bite of food as she scanned news reports tagged for her based on recent search activity.

Police report that last night political agitator and candidate for neighborhood representative Kater Buthol was the victim of a robbery in which he apparently fought with his assailant and was shot in the resulting struggle. Buthol died before police arrived on the scene.

Iceni stared at the news item, wondering why it felt not just surprising, but shocking.
I can’t fault the timing. Now I won’t have to lose any more sleep over that oaf, and Togo can—

Togo.

What did I tell Togo yesterday? What did I say?

Something about finding a solution for Buthol?

Which Togo could have thought meant I wanted him to get rid of Buthol.

For once in my life, I didn’t want to do that. For once, I wanted to handle it right.

And I might have ordered his death anyway.

She sat looking at her display. Calling in Togo again would serve no purpose. He knew the drill. This wasn’t a routinely accepted thing like sending someone to a public firing squad for failing in their duty. Given the right excuse, anyone sufficiently low-ranking could be disposed of that way without any fuss. But not everyone who needed to be eliminated had committed an offense, and sometimes people who needed to be neutralized had powerful patrons. There were long-established ways of handling that to avoid any personal penalty for the action. If she asked Togo whether he had killed Buthol, or arranged for someone else to do it, he would deny it because that was what he would always do to give her deniability in the matter. She had not said, “Kill him.” Togo would not admit that he had killed him. How many times had they played that game to ensure that any trips to interrogation rooms operated by the ISS would prove fruitless for questioners?

Did you order him to be killed?

I did not tell anyone to kill him.

The subject registers truthful.

Why did it bother her that Buthol was possibly dead at her hand? That damned Marphissa and her speeches about protecting the people.

But it was also about protecting herself, and her people.
I had meant to do something about that, to get assassination as a means of personnel management off the list of acceptable actions.

Maybe Drakon did it. Buthol said some bad things about him, too.

She hesitated, then called Drakon.

“Is something wrong?” he asked as soon as he saw her.

That was bad. She was so rattled that she was letting it show. “I was wondering, General, if there were any personnel let go in your office recently?” That code phrase was an old one, a subtle means of asking about assassinations.

Drakon took a while to answer. “No. Not recently,” he finally said.

Either he hadn’t ordered it, or he wouldn’t admit to it. She needed to talk to someone who would understand what had happened. But how could she admit to Drakon that she had possibly ordered a hit? Yes, CEOs ordering assassinations happened all the time, but it was still technically illegal even if a CEO ordered it. An admission of possible involvement would be evidence against her, handed to someone who could use that evidence to help gain total power in this star system for himself.

Had Malin told the truth about Drakon’s intentions? Dared she believe that?

If only that big, stupid ape hadn’t slept with Morgan. I could feel us getting closer, developing some sense of being able to trust each other a little—

A new thought arose, hitting her so abruptly that Iceni hoped her feelings didn’t once more reveal themselves to Drakon.
Was that Morgan’s idea? Did she sense that I was feeling more comfortable with Drakon and used having sex with him as a means to shove a wedge between us? She must have known that word of that event would get to me somehow.

Is this part of Morgan’s game? For me to mistrust Drakon, to stop working things out with him because he couldn’t keep his pants on with her? But how could she be sure that I would hear something that I wouldn’t dismiss as rumor . . .

Malin told me.

Was Malin a dupe in this, someone who could be fooled into being her messenger? Or is Malin actually working with her? Was that incident on the orbiting platform merely theater, a preplanned event that would make it appear that seriously bad blood existed between Malin and Morgan so that no one would suspect them of working together?

But how did Togo miss signs of that kind of collaboration? He never told me—

You can’t trust
anyone
.

Anyone.

Iceni looked at Drakon, who was watching her and waiting for a response. Part of her, the instinctive part, told her to hold that man as far from her as possible and work at limiting his power and eventually neutralizing him completely. Drakon was the only one in the star system with the power to threaten her directly.

But what if that was the wrong answer? What if her only real chance was to invest a measure of the little trust she could spare in a man who was either a lunkhead dumb enough to sleep with an insane bitch or cynical enough not to care that he was breaking one of the few rules he himself had set and was risking his own position for a short period of pleasure.

Or he was being manipulated, despite his power, by those beneath him.

“Many CEOs make the mistake of worrying only about those above them,”
a mentor had once confided to Iceni, “
when they should be worrying about what those below them are up to. It doesn’t take a lot of strength to make someone stumble. All it takes is knowing when to drop a tiny obstacle in front of their foot. And who knows how to do that better than the people you might barely notice as they do your dirty work?”