Jack Campbell
The Lost Stars-3
Imperfect Sword
To Daniel V. Bearss,
faithful once and future friend, the ghost of Midway.
Excelsior!
For S., as always.
Acknowledgments
I remain indebted to my agent, Joshua Bilmes, for his ever-inspired suggestions and assistance, and to my editor, Anne Sowards, for her support and editing. Thanks also to Catherine Asaro, Robert Chase, Carolyn Ives Gilman, J. G. (Huck) Huckenpohler, Simcha Kuritzky, Michael LaViolette, Aly Parsons, Bud Sparhawk, and Constance A. Warner for their suggestions, comments, and recommendations. Thanks also to Charles Petit for his suggestions about space engagements.
The Midway Flotilla
Kommodor Asima Marphissa, commanding
(all ships are former Syndicate Worlds mobile forces units)
ONE BATTLESHIP
Midway (not yet operational)
ONE BATTLE CRUISER
Pele
FOUR HEAVY CRUISERS
Manticore, Gryphon, Basilisk, and Kraken
SIX LIGHT CRUISERS
Falcon, Osprey, Hawk, Harrier, Kite, and Eagle
TWELVE HUNTER-KILLERS
Sentry, Sentinel, Scout, Defender, Guardian, Pathfinder, Protector, Patrol, Guide, Vanguard, Picket, and Watch
Ranks in the Midway Flotilla (in descending order), as established by President Iceni
Kommodor
Kapitan First Rank
Kapitan Second Rank
Kapitan Third Rank
Kapitan-Leytenant
Leytenant
Leytenant Second Rank
Ships Officer
Chapter One
Like a pack of immense sharks, warships of the rebellious Free and Independent Midway Star System roamed the dark emptiness of space, patrolling against any threats. At other stars, the crumbling but still-powerful and predacious empire of the Syndicate Worlds gathered forces and tried to stamp out revolution wherever it flared into existence. Midway, strategically positioned and a leader among the rebel star systems, knew it was only a matter of time until the Syndicate attacked again.
“I almost wish something would ha—”
“Don’t say it.”
“I’m sorry, Kommodor. It’s just that there are few tasks more boring than standing sentry,” Kapitan Diaz said. “Especially deep in space far from any planet or orbiting facility.”
“And few things more dangerous than becoming bored or distracted as a sentry,” Kommodor Marphissa reminded him, her voice sharp. “Let alone jinxing us with careless wishes!”
“I was about to say how important it was to stay alert,” Diaz added quickly. He raised his voice for the benefit of the specialists on the bridge of the heavy cruiser Manticore. “If you’re on sentry and not paying attention, some enemy might sneak up and stick a knife in you.”
“Or one of your superiors might catch you napping,” Marphissa said. “If that happens, you’ll probably wish an enemy had killed you quickly instead.”
“That’s the Syndicate way,” Diaz agreed. “But we rebelled against the Syndicate.”
“And that’s why we’re on sentry duty,” Marphissa said. “The Syndicate wants this star system back under their control.” Her gaze shifted to the display before her command seat. The huge hypernet gate that helped make Midway Star System very important hung in space only ten light-minutes away, the massive structure seeming small and insignificant against a backdrop of endless stars. Space had a tendency to dwarf the mightiest human creations. The nearest ship traffic was almost a light-hour distant, a boxy freighter plodding steadily along toward the inner star system. President Iceni, the only one whose orders Marphissa would respect, was four light-hours away, on a planet orbiting only several light-minutes from the star. Marphissa’s warships were on their own out here, as was she.
“How long do you think it will be before they attack again?” Diaz wondered.
Marphissa shifted irritably in her own seat. How many times had they had this conversation? “Maybe next week, maybe next month, maybe in the next minute. The only thing we know for certain is that the Syndicate will be back, and they will be bringing a large enough flotilla to make us fight for our lives.”
“The battle cruiser should be operational again soon.”
“It needs to be operational now, along with our battleship,” Marphissa grumbled, lowering her voice so only Diaz could hear. There were some things the specialists should not listen to. “We’ll be sitting ducks if the Syndicate returns with a battleship of their own, and all we still have in fighting condition are these cruisers and Hunter-Killers—”
An alert blared, causing everyone on the bridge to jerk to full alertness and frantically focus on their displays as a new symbol sprang to life near the hypernet gate. Ten minutes ago, something had arrived at the gate, the light from that event one hundred eighty million kilometers away only now reaching Marphissa’s own flotilla. Boredom and irritation vanished in a flare of excitement and fear as Marphissa waited for Manticore’s combat systems to identify the new arrival.
“We’re getting a Syndicate ID on it,” the senior watch specialist reported, drawing a curse from Kapitan Diaz.
Marphissa had once envied those who commanded flotillas, imagining them free of the day-to-day responsibilities that kept lesser souls in constant labor and worry. But she had already learned that the burdens of being in charge, of having no one else to turn to for orders and guidance, were as heavy as a neutron star and as unforgiving as the pull of gravity from a black hole.
And Marphissa would have to make all of the decisions. It would be almost four more hours before President Iceni even saw that a new Syndicate ship had arrived in this star system.
There were times when President Gwen Iceni regretted having learned that not every problem could be solved by ordering someone to be killed.
This was one of those times.
Because at this moment she really, really wanted to kill someone.
“We know that the next Syndicate attack could come at any time,” she told General Artur Drakon in what Iceni thought a remarkably well-controlled voice. The way his defensive glower deepened at her words led her to suspect that her voice might not be as controlled as she thought. “There are unknown forces moving against us within this star system, though we’ve managed to keep the citizens quiet for now by giving them some voice in their own affairs. Supreme CEO Haris at Ulindi might try attacking us again. And, of course, we never know when the enigmas might return and wipe us all out. Did I forget any problems we currently face?”
He met her eyes, defiant despite the obvious guilt he felt. “We can’t entirely trust each other.” Drakon paused, then added more in even darker tones. “We can’t entirely trust our own closest subordinates.”
“Then you agree we had more than enough things to worry about before this.” Gwen sat back, sighing heavily. “Why do I trust you at all, Artur Drakon?”