Jack Campbell - Perilous Shield

“Yes,” Iceni replied, surprising him. “Don’t get your back up until you hear me out. I do not believe that Colonel Morgan would intentionally do you harm. She has an intense loyalty toward you. What you ought to be worried about is where that loyalty could lead her, what actions she might take in the belief that they are in your best interests.”

My best interests? Where have I heard that before? Drakon wondered.

Taroa. Morgan said exactly that. “General Drakon, everything I do is in your best interests.” Even at the time he had wondered what that might mean.

But that it might constitute a threat to him? Morgan had her quirks, but she never would have gotten that medical waiver if she wasn’t stable enough to meet Syndicate standards. Granted that Syndicate standards could be elastic, but they left no room for loose cannons who didn’t have an important patron supporting them. And Morgan had not had any such patron.

Nonetheless, Drakon could understand Iceni’s grounds for concern. “All right. I will ensure that Morgan knows that if anything happens to you, or to anyone else without my very clear and specific orders, all of her past service to me won’t save her from the consequences.”

Her eyes searched his for a long moment before Iceni replied. “This is a dilemma. I like you because you don’t cast aside people who become inconvenient. But that character trait also makes life more difficult for me. Very well. Warn her. I’ll be watching her.”

“So will I,” Drakon said. He gave her a skeptical look. “You like me?”

Iceni sighed and spread her hands. “A little. Is that so unusual?”

“As a matter of fact, yes.” He smiled deprecatingly. “I’m not easy.”

“And I’m not cheap,” Iceni said, a momentary smile appearing, then vanishing again. “There’s work I should be doing.”

“Me, too.” Don’t trust, don’t get too close, don’t mix your job and personal issues, never, ever, make the mistake of letting down your guard because of personal feelings. The old warnings, which had saved him more than once while climbing the ranks of the Syndicate hierarchy, echoed in Drakon’s head as they left the office.

But, dammit, I like her, too. A little.

“I reviewed the interrogation of the snake agent done by President Iceni’s personnel,” Colonel Malin reported. “I conducted my own as well. I agree with the results given to you. This particular snake agent knows nothing of use to us. Her disposal is awaiting your approval.”

Drakon sat back in his chair, in his office, grateful to be back in his own headquarters complex, surrounded by people whose loyalty to him was beyond question. He ran Malin’s last words through his mind again while Malin waited patiently, standing in the respectful and almost-at-attention posture that seemed the most casual attitude that he ever took toward Drakon.

“Disposal.” That was one of the official and accepted Syndicate terms for executing someone. Dispose of the prisoners. How many times have I heard that? Drakon wondered.

He hated the word. He had hated it for a very long time.

But, exact wording aside, the woman’s fate didn’t have any room for debate. She had worked for the snakes. She had claimed, and the interrogation had borne out, that she had been blackmailed into cooperation by threats to her family, but that made no difference. She could expect no mercy even from her former coworkers. Letting her go was simply impossible.

And yet Drakon felt a strange reluctance to order her “disposal.” “What about President Iceni? Has she given orders about the prisoner?”

“Her office approved disposal, General.”

“ President Iceni approved disposal, or her office approved disposal?” Drakon demanded.

Malin paused. “Sir, I will have to check on whether the President personally approved the decision.”

Did something this routine fall under his agreement with Iceni? Probably. She should have coordinated with him before approving killing the agent. Especially since there was no need to rush the execution. But why delay it? It would be different if the snake agent was still of some use…

Drakon felt himself smiling. “Colonel Malin, suppose we kept her alive?”

“Alive?” For once in his life, Malin seemed to be baffled.

“Suppose you were the covert snakes still hidden on this planet, in this star system, and you knew we had captured that woman, then you learned that we hadn’t executed her. What would you think?”

Malin puzzled over the question very briefly, then his expression cleared. “I would think that she was still of some use to us.”

“Right. That she’s still valuable to us. So what would you do?”

“Try to get to her. Eliminate her myself.” Malin smiled approvingly at Drakon. “You want to keep her as bait to force some of the other snake agents in this star system to reveal themselves.”

“That’s the idea.” Wasn’t it? Maybe that was the only reason he had felt reluctant to dispose of the woman.

But he was sick to death of death. Gwen Iceni had been talking to him about something before the enigmas and Boyens had shown up, something about new ways of doing business that didn’t involve casual executions and unchecked power for those in authority. “Bran, do you have anything on systems of government that contain limitations on power for those in charge?”

Malin nodded quickly. “Yes, sir. I can provide you some. Texts on political science and history.”

“If politics is a science, it’s a perverted one,” Drakon grumbled. “I know why a lot of people support the kind of power CEOs can wield in the Syndicate system. They hope to become CEOs themselves and have that kind of clout.”

“Don’t underestimate the fear such a system generates,” Malin cautioned. “Many fear to speak out when even innocuous words can be used to justify any penalty. And, if we are honest, many actually believe such power in the hands of those at the top is necessary to maintain order and security.”

“Yet they hate the snakes,” Drakon said derisively. “That’s what the Syndicate system led to and justifies, an Internal Security Service that we feared more than we did the Alliance.”

“Yes, sir. That’s exactly what it leads to. I’ll get you those texts, General.”

Despite the absurdity of Iceni’s suspicions about Morgan, they had kept nagging at him, and the mention of snakes had brought them to the forefront. “Colonel Malin, how certain are we of the information we have regarding Colonel Morgan’s past? Is there anything important that I haven’t seen?”

For a bare instant a trace of powerful emotion flashed in Malin’s eyes, but the instant passed, and Drakon couldn’t be sure what he had seen. Pain? That didn’t make sense. Anger? Maybe. Frustration. Of course. Malin had probably spent long hours searching for any tiny bit of information that would condemn Morgan, and his inability to find such incriminating evidence must have caused him considerable disappointment.

Malin’s voice came out as controlled as it usually did. “No, sir. What has she done now?”

“Nothing since her little show in the command center.” Drakon rubbed his eyes, then looked back at Malin. “Is our information accurate? Is there any chance what we know of Morgan might be wrong?”

“No, sir. I am absolutely certain of the accuracy of what you know of Colonel Morgan.”

“I know how you feel about her, so I’m going to ask this directly. Do you think there is any possibility at all that Morgan is working for the snakes?”

This time it was easy to see the exact emotion in Malin. Surprise. “No, sir. I can’t imagine— She does hate them, sir.”