The Lost Stars: Tarnished Knight

“Freedom and homicidal nutcases,” Kamara finished. “I figure we’ll look pretty good at that point to anyone wanting to choose sides.” She glanced at Drakon. “The loyalists offered to conduct joint operations with us against the Workers, but I knew better than to bite that poison apple.”

Drakon smiled crookedly, inwardly pleased that Kamara had not tried to keep that offer secret from her new allies. He studied the map, zooming in to identify some good locations for surgical strikes. “Colonel Malin, please get Colonels Gaiene, Kai, and Senski. We have a snake hunt to plan.”

“We can’t afford to lose a lot of infrastructure,” Kamara said. “Neither can the loyalists, which is the only thing that has kept them from dropping rocks on us from orbit.”

Morgan blew out a derisive breath. “You want us to defeat the loyalists without breaking anything?”

Kamara met her eyes soberly, nodding. “That’s right. The loyalists are sitting on some of the most critical facilities on the surface. If all we inherit is ruins, then our victory would be as hollow as they come.”

“The snakes have been following scorched-earth tactics every time we’ve fought them,” Malin said. “Once they know defeat is inevitable, they try to take us with them.”

“Then we try to make sure the snakes don’t know they’re losing until it’s too late to do anything about it,” Drakon replied. “Colonel Morgan, get the identities of the units you want to undermine from Sub-CEO Kamara and get started on that. I want to know what units those are, too, so we can work our plans around them and hit the other units first.”

“How often do you want updates on what I’m doing?” Morgan asked.

“Let me know what I need to know when I need to know it. Otherwise, you’re free to run with it.”

She grinned. “No problem.”

Kamara cleared her throat. “You’ve left two companies occupying the orbital dockyards. We’d be happy to send some of our militia up there to maintain control and free up your troops.”

Drakon smiled at her. I bet you’d be happy to gain control of those dockyards. Do you really think I’d just hand them over to you? “With our warships protecting the dockyards, it’s better that they deal with our own people there if any threats develop.”

After a pause, Kamara nodded. “Certainly. I understand.”

At least, she understood that the Free Taroans were in no position to demand the dockyards.

* * *

COLONEL Rogero walked alone back to his quarters after a coordination meeting with President Iceni’s representatives. Meetings with people in locations remote from each other were easy to hold, everyone gathering in a virtual meeting place, but just as easy to tap into and monitor despite every possible security precaution. For routine matters, that was accepted as a fact of life. The ISS, and possibly someone else, would be listening. For anything important, or anything that shouldn’t be overheard, it had become habit for people to choose actual meeting places at the last moment. Much more secure, but it could also lead to long walks as twilight darkened the sky and streets grew dim before the gloom deepened enough to trigger streetlights to life.

There were bars he could have gone to, restaurants he could have dined at, but Rogero preferred burying himself in his work. Every time he visited a bar or a café, he would find himself looking for her, knowing she couldn’t possibly be there but still studying the crowd. Someday, I’ll buy you a drink, Bradamont had said at their last meeting. Someday, I’ll buy you dinner, he had replied. Neither had believed it could ever happen, but still Rogero found himself searching crowds.

She had been in the Midway Star System. She had sent him a message. But it was still impossible.

Tonight, then, he walked straight from the meeting to his quarters. But even though his course was a straight one, he didn’t actually walk in a straight line or at a steady speed. Reflexes from the battlefield had become natural to him, so that as Rogero walked, he would, without thinking, speed up or slow down between steps, veer a bit to one side or the other, move slightly to keep objects between him and open lines of sight that could become lines of fire. It made it hard for anyone to target him on the battlefield and annoyed the hell out of anyone who walked with him at other times, but it took a conscious effort to not do it, so when he walked alone, he gave in to instinct.

As a result of one such sudden jerk forward, the shot fired at his head instead grazed the back of Rogero’s skull.