The Lost Stars: Tarnished Knight

Marphissa paused in the hatch, turning to face Iceni and stand at attention, lacking only a blindfold to look like someone already facing a firing squad.

Until she spoke, Iceni wasn’t sure what she would say. “I much prefer those who speak their thoughts to my face to those who speak them behind my back. I will think on what you have said.”

Wise enough not to offer a reply, Marphissa saluted and left.

Iceni ensured that the hatch was sealed again and all security active, then sat and closed her eyes. Does that fool think that I’ve never suffered from the Syndicate so-called justice system? I know its flaws as well as anyone.

She had never sold her body, but she had been forced to yield it twice, each time to men who were far enough above her in the corporate hierarchy to know that they were safe against any penalty for their actions. Even as young and inexperienced as she had been then, Iceni had known that if she had tried to charge them with crimes she would have been the one convicted of “unjustly defaming” Syndicate officers. She had instead turned her desire for revenge into a climb for power, so she could get into a position to strike back, but both men had died before she could do so, one in an industrial accident and the other during a battle with the Alliance.

How many others had suffered the same way that she had? She would not be a victim. She would find a means for revenge. But revenge had been denied her by chance.

Marphissa had avenged herself for the death of her brother. A death brought about only by an allegation of wrongdoing. Should only the strongest have a means to justice? And that form of justice had only been vengeance. Nothing that Marphissa, or anyone else, did could have brought her brother back to life after he was executed for the crime of being accused of wrongdoing by someone who profited from that accusation.

Did punishment truly serve a purpose when all knew it was a weapon with no guidance, mowing down low-level criminals but also anyone unfortunate enough to fall under suspicion or to have something someone more powerful desired?

That’s the question, isn’t it? We talk about the need for safety and security, but how many citizens of the Syndicate Worlds have ever slept feeling safe and secure? No. We spent every day, every night, wondering when the heavy knocks would come on the door, when the door would be broken open, when one of us would be hauled off to answer for crimes whether or not we ever committed those acts. I’m the most powerful person in the Midway Star System, and I hide behind locked doors and security systems even when I have bodyguards on call. Safety and security, hell.

Iceni sighed, leaning back again, her eyes still closed. How do I fix that and still keep myself, and others, safe? Capturing that battleship may turn out to be one of the easiest things I’ve had to deal with.

I hope General Drakon is having an easier time. I ought to be worried about what he’s doing, but for some reason I don’t understand, I feel safer knowing that he’s watching things at Midway. Hopefully he can handle anything that comes up before I get back.

* * *

“A flotilla has arrived at the jump point from Lono,” Malin reported over the hoot of alarms behind him.

Drakon was in his command center in a heartbeat. Haste was absurd when the enemy had just been sighted six light-hours fifteen light-minutes distant, but it still felt necessary. Human reflexes insisted that an enemy in sight was an imminent threat, and human bodies and brains still responded to that ancient imperative. “Son of a bitch,” he muttered as he took in the information.