Black Dawn (Blood on the Stars Book 8)

by Jay Allan

  “Very well…” Barron didn’t really believe Cantor’s assurances, but time was just as crucial now as discretion. If the administrator was careless and let word slip, the panic spreading across the planet would be his problem. Dauntless would be back in space and on the way to Megara in twelve hours, eighteen max. “Administrator, the White Fleet encountered something, out beyond the Badlands.”

  “Encountered something? Have you found noteworthy old tech? I knew your mission would be crowned…”

  “No…It’s something far more serious. Even dire.”

  Cantor looked back, confusion slipping onto his face. “I’m afraid I don’t understand, Admiral.”

  “I can go into greater detail, but that would serve little purpose now. What you need to know is simply this: we found people beyond the Badlands.”

  “People? What kind of people? Renegades? Smugglers?”

  “Many different kinds of people, Administrator. Large numbers, in fact, likely millions…no, billions. An entire civilization. Other survivors from the Cataclysm.”

  Cantor looked back, silent, clearly having trouble reconciling with what Barron had just told him.

  “We are not the only inhabited worlds to remain after the Cataclysm. There are survivors beyond the Rim…and they are hostile.”

  “Hostile?” Cantor still looked confused, but now he also looked scared. “Is this some kind of joke, Admiral?”

  “No, Administrator, I’m afraid it’s deadly serious. There is another civilization out there, a large and powerful one, with technology as advanced as our own…no, more advanced. We fought two battles with them. They refused all attempts at communication, all offers to mediate any disputes.”

  “This is terrible, Admiral! What are we going to do? Is the rest of the White Fleet coming back? They have to take position around Dannith and defend us. I will send a communique to fleet headquarters at once. We must have more forces sent…”

  “The fleet isn’t coming, Administrator. I left most of them behind, to hold back and misdirect the enemy for as long as possible. To buy time. And I’m not staying here either. I must get back to Megara, to warn the Senate and the Admiralty…and help prepare to mobilize the Confederation for war.”

  “No…you cannot leave! Dannith is right on the border. If an invasion force comes…”

  “You’ll have to do your best to prepare for that possibility, Administrator. That’s why I wanted to see you…and just you. I would not tell you how to conduct your civilian responsibilities, but I strongly suggest you maintain secrecy for as long as possible. Panicked mobs won’t help with your preparations.”

  “Preparations? For what? What can we do if the fleet abandons us?” The administrator was barely controlling his growing panic.

  “First, Administrator, no one is abandoning you. Dauntless and the few ships with her are not sufficient to mount any kind of reasonable defense, even if Dannith was our only concern, which, of course, it is not. We must rally the entire fleet…as well as the forces of the Alliance and our lesser allies. We must put together a force that can face the enemy that is coming, one that can hopefully display our strength, convince them to discuss peace instead of attacking.” Barron paused. “And if that is unsuccessful, to mount a credible defense of the Confederation…of the whole Rim.”

  “This is terrible, Admiral.” Cantor fumbled around his desk as he spoke, so unnerved, he clearly couldn’t focus on anything. “I will come back to Megara with you. I will add my voice to yours.”

  Barron did the best he could to hold back his anger. He’d seen too many courageous friends and comrades killed in his career to suffer a coward presuming to lead an entire planet.

  “You will do nothing of the sort, Administrator.” He managed to keep his tone even, but that was about the limit of his success in controlling his hostility. “Let me be very clear to you so we do not misunderstand one another. It is utterly beyond me what might have possessed the people of Dannith to elect a creature like you to lead them, but they did it, and you accepted the job. Not only accepted…my mind reels at the thought of the lies and dirty politics it took to lift you from whatever shithole you spawned from to the administrator’s office. However, you are there now, Mr. Cantor, and I can assure you, you are going to stay on this planet and lead these people in the time of trouble that is coming. You will set an example for them. You may well end up fighting here. You may even die. But you will not abandon them.”

  “Die? Fighting? Admiral, I must protest this…”

  “Yes, Administrator…die. That is what happens in combat, and if you are going to defend Dannith, there is a very strong likelihood that many people—perhaps including you—will be killed.” Barron paused and glared at the politician. “Many of the spacers of the White Fleet have died already…more almost certainly will, perhaps all of them. To buy time for vermin like you to do your jobs.” Barron’s gaze hit a new level of unbridled hostility. “Let me make this perfectly clear, Administrator…if I find out you shirked in your duty, that you boarded some ship to leave Dannith, or that you did anything less than your absolute best to lead your people and ready them for what is coming…I will find you myself. Then, you will wish this new enemy got to you before I did. You have my word as a Barron.” He paused, his stare maintaining every bit of its frigid intensity. “Do we understand each other, Administrator?”

  The politician slumped behind his desk in shock. He was shaking, and he looked like he might lose all composure any moment.

  “Do we understand each other?” Barron repeated.

  Cantor struggled to look up, to meet Barron’s stare. He never made it, not all the way, but he finally forced out a soft, “Yes.”

  “Good.” Barron was far from satisfied with the response, but he didn’t have time to waste. “I’m going to send down some officers to assist in your preparations.” The thought of leaving any of his people behind on a planet under the rule of a creature like Cantor sickened him, but he had taken an oath to defend the citizens of the Confederation…and however foolish they’d been at the ballots, there were millions of Confederation citizens on Dannith. “You will listen to them, and follow their advice…do you understand?”

  The administrator nodded slowly. Barron was still far from satisfied, but he knew it was the best he could do on short notice. Even if he—illegally—took some action to remove Cantor from his office, something like throwing him in Dauntless’s brig, he didn’t have anyone to put in the fool’s place. And he didn’t have time to find someone.

  “Dig down, Administrator…every man has a spark of courage somewhere. Here is your chance to excel, to prove that your people didn’t make a mistake when they chose you to lead them.” Barron didn’t believe a bit of it…but he said it anyway.

  It was all he had.

  Chapter Nine

  Senate Hall

  Troyus City, Planet Megara, Olyus III

  Year 316 AC

  “We have seen the evidence. There can be little doubt of the defendant’s guilt, nor of the staggering magnitude of his crimes. For many years, Garrison James Holsten has been entrusted with one of the highest and most powerful offices in the Confederation…and through that time, he used that position to enrich himself. To add, with almost unimaginable aggression, to his already obscene fortune. Worse, during the recent war years, Mr. Holsten’s greed grew unabated, even as the Confederation battled for its survival. How many of our young soldiers might have lived, if the funds this body had committed to equip and provision them hadn’t been stolen by the defendant and his cronies?”

  Emmerson Tolbert Ferrell had long been considered somewhat of a buffoon, a man who owed his standing, and his fortune, such as it was, to convincing the backward and poorly educated people of his obscure homeworld to elect him as their sole representative in the Confederation Senate. That was an achievement of sorts, and for many years, it had looked to be his last, as he skirted personal bankruptcy and engaged in a senatorial career noteworthy more for
its lack of any kind of significant distinction than anything else.

  That had all changed now, and Ferrell’s position at the head of a group of Senators investigating war profiteering had given him a distinction he’d never had before. The prosecution of Gary Holsten looked to be the crowning achievement of his race to the top. A conviction would place him at the very peak of the Confederation’s ruling body, at the head of the largest active coalition, one that controlled no less than forty percent of the Senate’s votes.

  Holsten sat quietly, watching what he knew was a witch hunt unfold with surprising rapidity. He’d been concerned, of course, when the Lictors had come for him on Dannith, and dragged him back to Megara to face a Senate inquiry, but he’d also figured he could work his way out of whatever problem had arisen. He had extensive files on many of the Senators, a large percentage of whom were little more than sanitized criminals. But whoever was behind this whole thing had handled it brilliantly. He’d been cut off from any of his people, even from reaching his personal AI. He had some safeguards in place, of course, some disclosures set for release if he didn’t check in after a certain amount of time, but he’d been hesitant to employ such measures too extensively, for fear he might be captured by the enemy.

  Now, he was truly concerned. Especially after seeing the torrents of fraudulent evidence presented against him. He’d assumed his arrest had been related to his aggressive use of intelligence tactics, even blackmail to compel Senators to do what had to be done. He couldn’t argue that he’d crossed that line more than once, though he’d never done it for his own gain, and he’d been utterly shocked as he watched endless records entered into evidence, all pointing to his theft of billions of credits during the war. A few of the documents were based on real transactions, but those had been heavily modified. The others were outright fabrications.

  He’d demanded on a dozen occasions his right to access his records to prepare his defense, and his right to representation, but the prosecution had objected, arguing that Holsten’s position as head of Confederation Intelligence gave him too much power if he had access to any outside staff or data networks.

  That much, he knew was true. But it didn’t terminate his legal rights. At least, not until the Senate voted to do just that, pending completion of the case. The Senate was a powerful body, but they didn’t have the authority to terminate a citizen’s basic rights…until it turned out they had effectively just that capability, as long as no one outside the chamber knew about it.

  Holsten had tuned out from the proceedings. He’d had enough trouble sitting silently while Ferrell and his band of sycophants lied about him all day. He was an even-tempered man…if Van Striker or Tyler Barron had been in his place, he suspected Ferrell’s neck would have been snapped by now. But he was losing his patience, and worse, he was losing hope of getting himself out of the situation. He had a lot of enemies in the Senate, and even those not in on whatever fraud was in progress were unlikely to view him sympathetically. He suspected many of them were perfectly aware how wrong all of this was, but they were just as happy to remain quiet and take the chance to rid themselves of him.

  “The defendant will rise.” Holsten barely heard the command…and he ignored it anyway. He’d tried to maintain a respectful demeanor at the outset, but he’d long ago decided he was facing a kangaroo court, and that nothing he said or did would make a difference.

  Not if he couldn’t get word out to one of his allies. He was still trying to devise a way, but so far every effort had been a pointless waste of time.

  “The defendant will rise, or the Senate Lictors will compel him to do so.”

  Holsten sighed. Part of him wanted to continue to resist, but there was no point. If one of the Lictors grabbed him right now, he wasn’t sure what he would do.

  No…he was sure.

  He stood up slowly, looking up with a look of undisguised contempt at the raised platform that held the three Senators presiding over the Inquiry.

  “Garrison James Holsten, for three weeks, this body has heard testimony and viewed documentary evidence regarding your conduct as head of Confederation Intelligence, and most specifically during the recent war with the Union. You have been charged with a vast conspiracy against the Confederation and its military services…of indulging in a level of shameless greed that is almost impossible to fully grasp.”

  Holsten stared back, impressed that he had managed to more or less control his temper. He knew he’d been set up, but he was stunned by the complexity of the whole thing, and he couldn’t imagine any of the Senators with whom he’d clashed pulling off something so vast. For an instant, he wondered if it couldn’t be one of his own people, some kind of power play to get him out of the way. But he’d carefully selected his closest associates, and as much as he truly trusted anyone, he trusted them. Besides, he’d organized his affairs so that none of his people could move against him without the others being aware of it. So, if he was dealing with a traitor in Confederation Intelligence, his top four or five agents had to be in on it together…and that seemed impossible.

  “Do you understand the charges? Do you have anything to say before this body begins to deliberate?”

  He almost remained silent. He was being railroaded, and nothing he added to the mix would matter at all. But then he said, “I repeat my demand for legal representation and for access to my files and records to refute these false charges. I am well within my rights as a Confederation citizen in this, and I contest the validity of these proceedings unless I am granted such access. I maintain that no finding of this body, absent the provision of my basic rights as a Confederation citizen, can or shall be valid.”

  “Your requests have been reviewed already, Mr. Holsten, and denied. Your unique position makes it impossible to grant you the normal rights of a Confederation citizen. Your interests have been protected by Senate-appointed guardians, and a special act of the Senate has authorized this procedure in your case.”

  “You are not dictators…” Holsten felt his temper slipping out of control. “You don’t have the authority to strip a Confederation citizen of his basic rights. I repeat my demands for counsel and for access to my records.”

  “And, pursuant to Senate decree, your request is again refused. I will ask you one more time only. Do you have anything to say before this body begins deliberation?”

  “I contest the authority of this body to deny me my rights as a Confederation citizen.”

  “The record will show that the defendant has no statement to make in his regard. The Lictors are hereby instructed to remand him to his cell while the Senate begins deliberations. And may justice prevail.”

  Holsten felt his stomach flop, and he fought back nausea. He wanted to fight back as the Lictors took his arms and shackled him, but he knew that would only make things worse.

  Assuming they could get any worse.

  He bit back on his anger and said nothing, the only sign of visible rage his tightly clenched fists, chained behind his back.

  If his career had taught him one lesson, it was that things could always get worse.

  * * *

  “It’s done, Desiree. He was convicted on all counts.” Emmerson Ferrell stepped into the room, looking terribly pleased with himself, which wasn’t surprising. Marieles knew about the conviction already, of course. In a way, she’d known before it had happened. She’d put so much bribery money and so much free press behind Ferrell, even the buffoonish Senator had been unable to screw things up. He controlled nearly half of the Senate by rote, leaving making the path to a majority a fairly short and easy one. And, while Ferrell controlled the Senate, she controlled him.

  That was an oversimplification, of course. Ferrell was a fool, and one who lusted after her to boot, but that didn’t mean she could make him do anything. He’d been gullible enough to accept as reasonable the fact that a lobbyist had just happened to also become involved in the takeover of a massive information network, and, to date, grateful enough for her help t
o do whatever she’d asked. But she saw the limits to her power as well. She could manipulate the Senate to discredit certain individuals—and she was about to move on to the much more difficult target of the Barron clan and the famous Tyler Barron. She could cause disruption, possibly even enough to throw the Confederation’s government into disarray. But even Ferrell would see through any attempts to control the Confederation outright, or to obviously throw open the gates to the Union. And regardless, the Union wasn’t ready yet for that kind of commitment. Gaston Villieneuve was solidifying his hold on control and working to get the still-weak Union economy back on track. Even a limited invasion of the Confederation or a wholesale attempt to seize vital systems was out of the question.

  No, all she could do was thrust the Confederation into a crisis, a political struggle and an economic depression…perhaps, if she was incredibly lucky, somewhat of a partial civil war. If Confeds spilled Confed blood, her success would have exceeded even her greatest hopes.

  That would give the Union a few years to get back on its feet and hit the enemy before they could fully recover. It would be a complete enough victory, one that would almost certainly earn her Villieneuve’s full gratitude, and a place very near the top in his new Union.

  “I’m very proud of you, Emmerson. Those who doubted you are now exposed as fools.” She smiled sweetly at him. “You should feel very good about yourself today…both on your own account and as a public servant of the Confederation.”

  Ferrell returned the smile. “I couldn’t have done it—any of it—without your help, Desiree. Thank you.”

  She just nodded. He seemed truly grateful…but she knew that wouldn’t last. Emmerson Ferrell wasn’t the kind of man one counted on for extended loyalty. He was basking in the glow of his achievement for the moment, but that would fade quickly as the realities and pressures of being a Senatorial power broker wore him down. His attraction would delay his turning against her, she suspected—though she wasn’t sure how much longer she could reject him. One day he would start saying “no” to her requests for action, legislation, help of some kind or another…or he would return his own demands. Every indication was, Ferrell would act very much like a petulant child if she continued to reject him…and that he would lose interest in her fairly quickly if she gave him what he wanted.