Black Dawn (Blood on the Stars Book 8)

by Jay Allan

  And she had a man to find.

  To kill.

  Lafarge had been working on controlling her temper…for years now. Ever since she’d met Tyler Barron. She knew nothing could ever come of her relationship with the famous officer, but still, she wanted to feel as though she could have lived in his world, given other circumstances. Shaking off her Badlands frontier roughness and acquiring a bit of polish had seemed a good way to go.

  Until now.

  Wherever she eventually went, if she ended up one day truly enjoying her wealth, choosing china patterns and swirling fine wines around her mouth instead of chugging frontier bar rotgut, she had something to do first, a job that tolerated no veneers of civilization or high culture. She had to find Ricard Lille…and she had to kill the bastard.

  Whatever it took.

  “Okay, Andi…but take it easy. You shouldn’t even be out of the hospital even, yet. You wouldn’t be if you hadn’t ‘convinced’ the doctor to approve it.” Merrick paused, his expression half concerned, half amused. “What did you say to him anyway, Andi? I’ve never seen a man’s face turn so pale almost instantly.”

  She smiled, though only for an instant. “We just had a…heart to heart.” She paused and looked back at Merrick. “And I told him just how many ways I knew to remove his…”

  Lafarge looked around the street, her eyes pausing momentarily on the various groups of people moving about. She felt uncomfortable, because she was unarmed—the hospital hadn’t allowed her compatriots to bring her gun to her as she requested—and because she suspected Ricard Lille was the one person besides herself who might be sure she would come for him. The Sector Nine operative was an arrogant man, and she suspected he just might fail to take her seriously enough. Still, he was no fool, and she wasn’t about to do him the favor of taking him for one.

  Lille was probably long gone from Dannith by now. The Marines Colonel Peterson had left to protect her had formed a cordon around her room day and night. An operative as smart as Lille would have realized the risks of making a move then were just too great. But now she was out in the open. The Marines had offered—begged almost—to go with her, to maintain their protective vigil, but as much as she would have liked to have the grim warriors at her side, they were far too restrained—by regulations, by honor codes, by orders—for what she had in mind.

  Andi wasn’t restrained by anything, not now. She was a hunter on the trail of a beast—a deadly and dangerous beast, but a beast nonetheless. Nothing would stand in her way, not laws, not regulations, not foolish concepts like honor.

  Not until the man who had tormented her, had almost killed her, who had stripped her of her belief in herself, was dead.

  The man who had broken her will. She hadn’t told anyone, not Vig, not the Marines, no one, but she’d been ready to give Lille anything he demanded. Anything to make the torture stop. She just hadn’t known anything he wanted.

  She knew she would never think of herself the same way again. From her youngest days, the abject misery and poverty, she’d always had believed in herself, that she could endure whatever she had to. That was gone now, ripped away from her by Sector Nine’s top assassin. She knew she could never recover what she’d lost, never regain the pride she’d once felt in herself. But she could take her revenge on the man who’d stolen it from her, and she’d sworn in her hospital bed to do just that, whatever it took.

  “Pegasus is fully equipped, isn’t she, Vig?”

  Merrick looked confused for a few seconds, but then a smile slipped onto his lips. “Yes, Andi…fully equipped.”

  Andi managed a smile, one far more evil than jovial in appearance. She’d long carried a cache of illegal weapons on her ship…an insurance policy of sorts against the types of trouble one could run into on the frontier and in the Badlands. Back in her smuggling days, she used to drop them in a scanner-resistant pod on the edges of the system before landing on Dannith. But that was before she’d brought back a war-winning bit of ancient technology, and won the lasting friendship of both the navy and Confederation Intelligence.

  Gary Holsten and Van Striker had given her permanent clearance to land at any Confederation port, without risk of search or seizure…an almost unimaginable luxury. And one that let her keep her cache of weapons secured in Pegasus’s lockers, safe and ready for her when she needed them.

  Like now.

  * * *

  “There she is.” The operative turned toward the small cluster of agents standing around him. They were all dressed as inconspicuously as possible, but Louis Drossier knew every one of them was a trained killer…and fully-armed. They were, perhaps, not quite the equal of the teams he’d led before the Union lost the war, and its government fell. Sector Nine—no, he reminded himself, we’re the People’s Protectorate now—had suffered considerably in the upheaval that followed the deaths of nearly the entire Presidium and the rebellion that swept across the Union. Still, they were good enough.

  Good enough to hunt down one jumped up smuggler…

  Ricard Lille had left coldly specific instructions. He was to kill Andromeda Lafarge, and he was to do it before she had a chance to leave Dannith.

  And he was not to underestimate her.

  Drossier was having a hard time with the last part. He couldn’t imagine some Confed border rat smuggler, even one who’d apparently stumbled on a lucky score and struck it rich, was a real danger to him and his team—and certainly not to Lille. The Union’s top assassin was virtually the embodiment of fear, at least to those who knew enough about his shadowy existence to truly appreciate what he represented.

  Still, Lille seemed…edgy about this one. The thought of an adversary that unnerved Ricard Lille made Drossier’s blood run cold. He wouldn’t take any chances. He’d wait, observe, follow…and then, when the moment was right, he would strike.

  “Spread out…I want her covered from all angles. We don’t let her out of our sight, you understand me? If she goes in a building, we surround it, monitor every possible exit.” He paused, and his tone darkened. “Don’t be the one who lets her get away.”

  He put his hand to the side of his head for a second, adjusting the small earpiece while each of his operatives acknowledged his instructions. Then he stood and watched as they slipped away, one or two at a time, drifting into the crowds with the practiced nonchalance of well-trained and practiced killers.

  Drossier remained until they were all gone, watching as Andi Lafarge and one of her people—Vig Merrick, he reminded himself from the memorized files—began to slip around the corner. There were just two of them, and on their way from the hospital. She was probably as vulnerable as she was going to be.

  For an instant, he considered ordering his people in, finishing the job then and there. Getting away might be difficult on the crowded street, but that wasn’t what stopped him. His eyes darted around, looking for suspicious types in the crowd. Lafarge had sent the Marines away, no doubt because she didn’t want them to see what dirty business she was planning. But the grim warriors had adopted her in their own way, and Drossier knew enough about the Confederation’s elite warriors to bet they hadn’t let her go, however it might appear.

  His eyes settled on a trio dressed in civilian clothes, two men and a woman. Their hair was cropped short—buzz cuts, almost—and all had deep set, grim eyes. He wasn’t sure they were Marines, but his gut was too alive with suspicion to order his people in now.

  He’d tangled with Confederation Marines before. The warriors were no match for his people in tradecraft, certainly…but if it came to a straight up fight, the Marines were veritable killing machines. And he didn’t have the slightest doubt…if they had people following Lafarge, those Marines would be armed.

  Well armed.

  No…it was smarter to wait, to get a real feeling of the situation, of what he faced.

  Then he would give the order. And his people would kill Andromeda Lafarge.

  * * *

  “I think you should stay here, A
ndi…or better still, let’s just blast off and get off this rock. None of us need this anymore.”

  Lafarge was sitting in one of the chairs in Pegasus’s small lounge area. Andi’s ship didn’t look like all that much from outside, but Pegasus had some bite that wasn’t obvious under casual examination. For years, she had poured her profits into improving her vessel and buying the equipment her people needed in their expeditions, a sharp contrast to many of her peers, who squandered vast sums on gambling, drinking, and all sorts of debauchery. Pegasus wasn’t a match for a navy ship, but the tough old bird had more than one system upgraded well past civilian maximums.

  “I can’t stay here, Vig. And I’d love to leave, but we’ve got work to do. It seems like Ricard Lille has either left Dannith or he’s gone into deep hiding.” For a while she’d thought the assassin was laying low, waiting to finish her off, but as she analyzed it more, she realized Lille would have other responsibilities than tying up one old loose end. Most likely, he had moved on…and that meant he was long gone from Dannith.

  But he wouldn’t have left her behind unmolested. That wasn’t his way, and, while she didn’t know how seriously Lille took her as a threat, she couldn’t imagine he didn’t realize she would come after him.

  He’s left someone behind to finish the job.

  And they’re my ticket to finding his trail.

  “At least sleep here, Andi. With Pegasus’s security systems, no one is going to get in here without you knowing about it.” Clearly, Merrick also expected someone to come for Andi.

  “Yes, Vig, that’s all true…except for one thing. I need them to come for me.”

  “What?” Merrick sounded horrified. “Andi, don’t play around with these people. I know you’re as tough as they come, but they’re dangerous…and we have no idea how many people he’s got after you.”

  “I don’t know where he is, Vig. I have no ideas, no clues, no leads. I need to get some.”

  Merrick looked back at her for a few seconds, the blank stare on his face giving way suddenly to a terrified expression. “No…Andi. No. You can’t set yourself up as bait.”

  “Why not?” The matter-of-factness of her tone chilled the very air.

  “Andi…”

  “Look, Vig…I’ve got to do this, there’s just no other way for me. For one thing, he’ll come after me and kill me eventually if I don’t get him first…but even if that wasn’t the case, I have to do this. After…what happened…” She paused, struggling to maintain her composure. “…I just can’t let him live. I won’t.” The last two words were spoken with a tone of pure iron.

  “I understand.” Merrick had looked like he was going to argue further, but then he clearly realized there was no point.

  “I want you to go home, though, Vig. You and all the others. I appreciate your coming here and staying with me when I was in the hospital, but now it’s time for you all to go back to the lives you’ve found. This is my fight. Mine alone.”

  Merrick’s expression hardened. “That’s enough of that, Andi. We’re with you, the whole crew. Until the end…whatever end this all leads to. They’re all out there now, working over whatever contacts we’ve got left, trying to put together some leads. So, we’ll follow your orders, we’ll do whatever you need us to do…but I don’t want to hear any more about leaving you to deal with all of this alone.”

  Andi felt the urge to continue the argument, to insist again that they all go. But she couldn’t. They’d come back to help her, and she couldn’t insult their loyalty by trying to send them away, especially when she doubted they’d go no matter what she did.

  “Thank you, Vig. I’m very grateful…for all of you.” They were hard words for her to say. Lafarge didn’t like feeling dependent. She didn’t like needing anyone.

  But if she was going to get through this, do what she had to do, she was damned sure going to need all the help they could give her.

  Chapter Eight

  CFS Dauntless

  Orbiting Planet Dannith, Ventica III

  Year 316 AC

  “Absolutely not. No receptions, no parades…honestly, I’d prefer the planetary administrator not even announce we’re here, if there’s any way you can swing that.” Tyler Barron sat on Dauntless’s bridge, the expression on his face leaving no doubt as to the intensity of the headache pounding inside his skull. “I’d just like to meet with him alone. Immediately. I’ll be taking a shuttle down at once.”

  “Yes, Admiral.”

  The light, hazy blue disk of Dannith hung on Dauntless’s primary screen, against the far wall beyond the huge 3D display that dominated the bridge. Dannith was a fairly pretty world, from orbit at least, but Barron knew the place far too well to be taken in by idyllic distant views. As far as he was concerned, the place was a grimy pit, and one on which he’d spent far too much time already.

  The extensive Spacers’ District of Port Royal City was the grungiest dump on the planet, but it was also the only place on the entire pointless rock that offered anything at all of interest. The rest of Dannith’s moderately inhabited surface was covered with dense factory blocks producing an assortment of the most boring and unexceptional industrial products for sale anywhere in the Confederation. Barron suspected someone, somewhere, found the variations between viscosities of sealant and the number of different sizes of reactor fittings available to be fascinating, but he wasn’t one of them. Almost everything of interest to him—and most everyone else—on the planet originated in, or passed through, the seedy bars and other establishments surrounding the spaceport.

  Barron watched as Cumberland followed his orders…and as whoever was down on the surface in ground control clearly argued with him. He felt a flush of anger, and he almost grabbed the comm himself to tell whatever officer was on duty, in no uncertain terms, what he was to do. But he held back and let Cumberland handle it…which he did in significantly more diplomatic terms than Barron would have. The officer down there was just following orders, of course, and Barron’s recollection of Dannith’s most recent planetary administrator—Walter Cantor, he thought he remembered the name—was one of a pompous ass, someone he couldn’t imagine was an easy boss.

  He wished he had a better candidate to whom he could give the first report that a new enemy—a new war—was very likely coming, but he had what he had. He’d almost decided to pass by Dannith entirely, or to stop and refit and refuel without giving any hint of why Dauntless and her companion ships were there. But Dannith was the first Confederation port of call he’d reached, and also very likely the initial target on an invasion route from the Hegemony. Barron had to warn whoever he could there, fool or not.

  “Sir…Administrator Cantor will be pleased to see you as soon as you are able to land.” There was some satisfaction in Cumberland’s voice. He’d been far more pleasant than Barron would have been…but in the end, he’d slammed the ground officer pretty hard. Barron wasn’t sure “pleased” was the appropriate word, but he was sure he didn’t give a damn.

  “Very well, Commander.” Barron stood up. “Advise the bay I want my shuttle ready as soon as possible.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Barron took a couple steps from his chair, and he stopped. “I’ll take a Marine guard with me, Commander. Ten strong.” He paused. It seemed superfluous to him, foolish even, to bring guards, to engage in a contest about who was the biggest bigshot, but Cantor was just the kind to be impressed by such things, and the sooner he got the imbecile to shut up and truly understand the importance of what he had to say, the better. “And tell General Rogan I’d like him to accompany me as well. All Marines in dress uniforms.” A Marine General couldn’t hurt his little show, and as much as he suspected they’d grumble a bit behind his back, putting his little honor guard in their dress grays couldn’t hurt either.

  “Yes, sir.” It was clear from Cumberland’s tone that the officer agreed with everything Barron had just said. A few seconds later: “Admiral, flight control reports your ship will be rea
dy to launch in ten minutes. And General Rogan acknowledges.”

  “Very well, Commander. You have command while I’d on the surface. I want the fleet refueled at once and ready to leave on a moment’s notice. Understood? We don’t have time to waste here.”

  “Yes, sir…understood.”

  Barron turned and walked across the bridge, trying to deal with the realization that he had no idea how to break the news he’d brought…and no idea how to suggest Dannith prepare for what was coming.

  * * *

  “Admiral Barron, it’s a pleasure to see you again, and so much sooner than expected. We hadn’t anticipated your return for quite some time.” Walter Cantor was a large man, both tall and stocky. Roughly half his once dark-brown hair had turned to a steely gray. He would have been a good-looking man by most accounts, at least if he hadn’t had the taste he did for garish—to Barron’s opinion, ridiculous—clothing.

  “Yes, unfortunately, we were compelled to return because…”

  “I do wish you’d allow us to throw you an appropriate welcome, Admiral, a state dinner at the very least. I simply could not allow…”

  “Administrator, truly…there is simply no time for such pursuits.” And if you interrupt me again, you’ll be sorry. Didn’t you see that I came down here with eleven Marines? Do you know what they’ll do to you if I order them to, Planetary Administrator or not? “There is a situation we must discuss, one that threatens considerable danger.” Barron turned his head, looking around the room. “Are you quite sure we are alone…and that no one can hear what we are discussing?”

  “Of course, Admiral. My office is highly secure, and I would never risk any breach of privacy with such a notable guest present.”

  Barron struggled to keep the expression on his face neutral. He really detested the administrator, but there was no place for his personal feelings, not with the Hegemony coming.