Enemy in the Dark

by Jay Allan

  “Mr. Lancaster, please . . .”

  “Enough of this foolishness, Silas. I appreciate your concern, but you are simply being paranoid. We are about to begin the Far Stars Confederation development program. From what I’ve been able to glean from Marshal Lucerne’s communiqué, Rykara is in rather worse shape than he’d expected it to be. And the people are more . . . resentful than might be ideal.” He leaned back in his chair and spun around, staring out over the Topaz Sea.

  “That might be to our advantage though, Silas, don’t you think? Our development teams will have ample protection from Lucerne’s troops, so local resentment should be no more than a minor inconvenience. And the widespread destruction should provide us with additional opportunities to increase profits. The Lancaster Construction Consortium will handle the entire rebuilding effort planetwide. We will skip any competitive bidding on humanitarian grounds due to the urgent need of the people for rebuilt shelter and infrastructure. Advise Conrad Koln to increase markups by 50 percent on all building projects.” He paused for a few seconds. “No, make that 75 percent. Augustin Lucerne is a military genius, not an economist.”

  “Yes, Mr. Lancaster.” Grosvenor’s voice was soft, his face downcast. The Lancaster patriarch was so fixated on the massive profits to be made in the wake of Lucerne’s conquests, he was completely ignoring everything else.

  Lancaster turned back around, and his eyes caught Grosvenor’s expression. He sighed loudly. “Okay, Silas, you’re so sure something is going on . . . what is it? Who is coming after us? A bunch of dummy corporations? The Far Stars Bank? Tell me. I’m listening.”

  “I don’t know, sir. Whoever is behind the recent activity has covered their tracks well. But that doesn’t mean there isn’t something going on.”

  Lancaster took a deep breath. “Some invisible enemy? Then tell me one thing. Who could it conceiv—”

  The intercom buzzed. “Mr. Lancaster, I have—”

  “I told you I didn’t want to be disturbed, Mya.”

  “I’m sorry sir, but Lord Halford is here, and he says it is urgent that he see you at once.”

  “Very well, Mya, send him in.” Lancaster’s voice was calmer, but there was still a touch of annoyance. He reached over and flipped a small switch, and his screen went dark. The confederation development program was none of Halford’s business.

  The door opened and Mak Wilhelm walked into the room. “Good day, Mr. Lancaster, Mr. Grosvenor.”

  “And to you, Lord Halford.” Lancaster rose and extended his hand across the desk.

  Wilhelm walked the rest of the way and shook hands with Lancaster. He sat down abruptly in one of the chairs, before Lancaster could offer him a seat.

  Lancaster sat down himself. “So what can I do for you, Lord Halford? As you know, we closed the purchase of Vestron Shipping two days ago. My people have been sitting with yours around the clock, working to integrate the company’s shipping routes with your proposed ingress points for trans-Void deliveries.”

  “Yes, Mr. Lancaster, I am aware of all that. But there is something else I’d like to discuss now, if that is acceptable with you.”

  Lancaster nodded. “Certainly.” His voice was clipped, as if he was biting down on a flash of anger. “What would you like to discuss?”

  Wilhelm leaned back in the chair and took a deep breath. “Perhaps we should start with the 31 percent stake of Lancaster Interests my associates and I now control.”

  Lancaster was silent, staring across the table with a stunned look on his face. “Excuse me?”

  “I’m sure you noticed the heavy trading in your stock in recent weeks. Our purchases, coupled with the 57 percent of your new issue we were able to accumulate, give us just under a one-third interest in your holding company.” Wilhelm’s expression was neutral, his voice cool, businesslike. He could have been reading a quarterly report to Lancaster as much as telling the man his company was under assault.

  “What the hell do you think you are doing?” Lancaster’s tone became angry. “I think you’d better get the hell out of my office, Lord Halford. In fact, I strongly suggest you leave Antilles while you still can.”

  “Threats are pointless, Danellan.” He glanced up at Lancaster. “If I may call you Danellan.”

  Lancaster was silent, staring at his visitor with eyes filled with rage.

  “As I was saying, threats are so nonproductive. First, I do not want your company, though I do want considerable cooperation from you. If you behave and do as you’re told, I will arrange for the stock to be sold to your family trust at a very reasonable price.”

  “What do you want, Lord Halford?”

  “Well, to begin, allow me to introduce myself. My real self. I am afraid the esteemed Lord Halford is an alias. I am General Mak Wilhelm, special envoy of His Excellency, Governor Vos.”

  Lancaster turned pale. “You are an imperial general?” His mouth had gone dry, and his words were a scratchy whisper.

  “Indeed I am, though you should find it at least somewhat reassuring to know that I am not here in a military capacity. I wish only to discuss closer cooperation between your firm and the governor.”

  Lancaster sat still, frozen in his chair staring across the table. “But I am in charge of economic development for the confederation. There is no way I could also conduct business with the empire. Marshal Lucerne would . . .”

  “Yes, we understand the motivations of the good marshal, and I am afraid we cannot allow this confederation of his to take form. At least not as currently conceived.” He smiled and stared across the table, his eyes boring into Lancaster’s. “You may work with us and maintain control of your company. Or you may oppose us, even run to Marshal Lucerne and disclose what I have told you. In which case, another thousand years will go by before a Lancaster heads up this firm again.”

  Lancaster slammed his fist on the desk. “By Chrono, I will not be pushed around in my own building. You may have acquired 31 percent of Lancaster, but my family controls—”

  “Thirty-five percent. Yes, I know. That would leave us on opposite sides of a war for control. I am motivated by factors other than profit potential, and I am prepared to issue a tender offer at three times the last closing price for additional shares.” He paused and smiled again. “Are you able to match that, Danellan? Perhaps you can mortgage the family silver. I suspect there is a lot of it lying around.”

  Lancaster had opened his mouth, but he didn’t say anything. He just let his body slide back into his chair. He was clearly trying to remain defiant, but Wilhelm could see the realization setting in. Danellan Lancaster had been a colossal fool, and he stood on the verge of losing his family’s legacy.

  “I assure you, there is no reason for such a downcast look. You can come out of this stronger—and wealthier—than ever. As long as you work with us. Kergen Vos is well known for the ferocity with which he dispatches enemies. But he is also a man who knows how to treat an ally. One with the good sense to choose the winning side.”

  Lancaster sat quietly, staring at his desk. Finally, he lifted his head and spoke with resignation. “Very well, General Wilhelm. What do you propose?”

  “I have been ordered to stay close to you. I am to report back directly to Chairman Vargus with any information that may be useful to him.”

  Villeroi was lying on a large chaise longue, stripped to the waist and staring sideways across the room toward Ballock. There was a young woman perched behind him on the settee. She wore a tiny costume that appeared to be made entirely of white silk, and she was massaging his shoulders.

  “Don’t mind my . . . assistant, Trayn. Please continue.” His words were polite, but there was always something in his tone, an undercurrent of menace that made Ballock shiver.

  “He suspects the governor is behind the recent accumulation of the bank’s stock.”

  “But he doesn’t know?”

  “No. I don’t believe so. But who else could it be? Who in the Far Stars could afford such an investment
?”

  “Who indeed, Trayn? And what do you propose to tell our good friend the chairman?”

  Ballock felt himself taking a step back, an involuntary response. He hated even being in the room with Villeroi. The entire affair had turned him into a nervous wreck, but dealing with this sick . . . animal. It was too much to handle.

  He’d wanted to tell Vargus when he’d been in the office. To spill his guts about Vos and the imperial plan to take control of the bank. But something had stopped him. He was in too deep already, and he knew it. Telling Vargus would have been suicide, whether the chairman decided to send him to his death or Vos retaliated and took the handcuffs off his pet psychopath.

  “I have no idea. What does the governor want me to say?”

  Villeroi smiled, but on him it was more unsettling than his normal scowl. “A little lower, my dear.” He leaned back, flashing a glance to his masseuse.

  He turned his head back toward Ballock. “Well, there is no way to achieve control of an entity the size of the Far Stars Bank without arousing some suspicion. Indeed, when the stock transfer reports are completed, Chairman Vargus will have no more information than he does now. He will be faced with a nearly impenetrable maze of dummy corporations and false identities. Nevertheless, it might be in our best interests to lead the good chairman on, to nurture his suspicions without confirming them.”

  “You don’t want me to try to convince him it is not the governor behind the stock purchases?” Ballock was surprised. He’d expected Villeroi to threaten him and send him back to tell the chairman the governor was not involved.

  “That would be ideal, Trayn, if it were a possibility. However, I doubt you are capable of carrying it off. Indeed, it is unlikely anyone could. There are few entities capable of threatening the Far Stars Bank. None, in fact, in the Far Stars, save some kind of large consortium, which would be nearly impossible to hide without imperial resources. In truth, the governor and empire are the only likely suspects. I see no way to completely convince the chairman that Governor Vos is not involved. So our best option is to cultivate that suspicion . . . slowly. Vargus will not dare challenge the governor openly until he has proof. We must allow him to think he is moving toward such evidence, though. If he feels you are on the trail of what he needs, we may divert him from other means of investigation—and buy the time the governor needs to complete the accumulation of a controlling interest.”

  “So what do you want me to tell him?”

  Villeroi sighed. “Must I put the words into your mouth?” He rolled his eyes. “Yes, of course I must. I wonder what it would be like to work with truly intelligent assets one day instead of imbecilic meat puppets.”

  “I—”

  “It wasn’t a question, you idiot.” Villeroi sighed. “Just tell the chairman that you spoke with me, that I assured you the empire has no involvement in the accumulation of the bank’s stock. Say that I was convincing, but you still have suspicions. Inform him that you have arranged to monitor my communications and to have my rooms placed under constant surveillance. He will applaud your initiative, and he will wait to see if you discover anything useful. Meanwhile, Governor Vos will move toward completion of his plan. In another month it won’t matter what Vargus discovers.”

  He stared at Ballock, and a perverse smile crept across his face. “It will be too late for him to do anything about it.”

  CHAPTER 13

  “RAFAELUS, IT IS GOOD OF YOU TO MAKE TIME. I REALIZE YOU are extremely busy.”

  “When Arkarin Blackhawk calls,” General DeMark said, “one makes the time. I’m just sorry we had to keep you in orbit so long. They made a real push to take out our LZ. It was touch and go there for a while. But we finally forced them back, and we could reopen for landings.” The Celtiborian general threw his arm around Blackhawk’s neck, greeting him with a one-sided hug. His other arm was bound up in a sling under his jacket. “Besides, you bear the Silver Seal if I am not mistaken, so I would be compelled to shine your shoes if that was why you have come.”

  Lucerne had indeed given Blackhawk the Seal, the Celtiborian badge of vice-regal authority. It compelled all Celtiborians, military or civilian, to accede to any request the holder might make. But Blackhawk had left it on the Claw. He hadn’t needed it with Castillo, and he wouldn’t need it with Rafaelus DeMark.

  “So, tell me, my friend, what is the situation here?” He gestured toward the general’s arm. “You’re wounded?”

  “It is nothing, just a scratch. I’d like to say I was hit while leading a charge. That sounds very gallant, no? But sadly, it was an enemy bombing run. I was caught out in the open and took a piece of shrapnel.” He raised the injured arm, wincing as he did. “I’ve had worse.”

  Blackhawk smiled. DeMark had a bit of the swashbuckler in him, but he was one of Lucerne’s most gifted commanders, which was why he had been given command of a planetary expedition. “So I take it things have been tougher here than you expected?”

  “That’s an understatement. Nordlingen was supposed to be a second-tier world—with a second-tier army. But these sons of bitches have been hitting us with particle accelerators, for Chrono’s sake! And they pounded us for weeks with their fighter-bombers. They weren’t even supposed to have an air force. We were badly equipped to deal with all of it. My initial force was forty-five thousand strong. I lost a third of them the first day.”

  “You are not alone, Rafaelus. Arias Callisto ran into something similar. And so did my people. On two different worlds.” He paused. “It’s the imperials. I don’t know what is going on, but they are intervening in struggles across the Far Stars.”

  DeMark exhaled loudly. “The empire? That’s just about the worst news you could have brought. I know the confederation is intended to be strong enough to ward off imperial threats, but it still only exists in theory for the most part. If they’re hitting us now . . .”

  “Fortunately, I don’t think they have the resources in the Far Stars for an up-front fight, at least not yet. The empire has always been wary of risking major military units in crossings of the Void. I suspect they plan to intervene wherever they can make things most difficult. Any way they can slow the growth of the confederation and keep the Far Stars fractured. Their ability to provide advanced weapons and financial support should not be underestimated.”

  “I underestimate nothing. Not anymore. I came here to round up a few local troops and garrison this planet, and I almost had my beachhead pinched out. Those first few days were unreal, Ark. We barely held on until the marshal got reinforcements out to us. We expected defenders armed with gunpowder rifles, and we ran into an entrenched force equipped with energy weapons and coilguns.”

  “That’s why I’m here, Rafaelus. The marshal asked me to try and figure out what is going on. If we can find proof that the empire is behind all this, Lucerne can rally the rest of the Far Stars behind his banner. Evidence of imperial involvement is worth a hundred divisions of veterans in terms of bringing the sector in line behind the confederation.”

  “I’ve got captured weapons, Ark, but that’s it. Nothing that proves the empire is involved.”

  “Any prisoners?”

  “A few. But no one of any rank. We haven’t managed to break their main defensive line yet. If we’re able to push through, we might round up a few senior officers at least.” The exhaustion was obvious in DeMark’s tone . . . and it was clear he was unsure if his people could manage a climactic breakthrough.

  I don’t think I’ve ever heard him so defeated. Blackhawk tried another tack. “Any sign of the king? Gustav XXIII, right?”

  “Right. But no, we haven’t even caught any comm chatter from him. Which is strange, considering the ferocity of the defense.” DeMark shook his head. “He was the last person we thought would order this kind of suicidal resistance. We half expected him to yield without a fight. I was authorized to reaffirm his monarchy if he agreed to join the confederation and accept the rights guarantees in the treaty.” An angry look cr
ossed his face. “Now, he can rot in hell. Assuming the soldiers don’t just blow him to bits when they find him. Or something more creative.”

  Blackhawk nodded. This is worse than I thought. DeMark had always been one of Lucerne’s calmest and most rational commanders, but now his anger was driving him. He wants vengeance, not justice. And from what I saw on Rykara, it was much the same for Callisto’s troops. This imperial involvement is not just attriting the Celtiborian forces. It’s wearing away at their devotion to the cause.

  Which means I need to expose the empire now. Before all Augustin has worked for becomes just another brutal trail of conquest.

  “So what is the plan? We sneak behind enemy lines, break into the palace, and snatch the king?” Ace was standing at the end of the corridor that led to the Claw’s sick bay. He was leaning against the wall and looking out over the rest of the crew assembled in the main gallery.

  Blackhawk turned around to face his friend. He was surprised at first, but he thought about it for a few seconds then realized he wasn’t really. This was vintage Ace, and he respected the courage and loyalty of his informal second in command. But that wasn’t going to stop him from sending Ace back to his bed—and carrying him there if he had to.

  “What the hell are you doing up?” Blackhawk made eye contact with Shira. He could see the amusement in her expression. He suspected she felt as he did—glad to see Ace strong enough to be up and around, but firm that he would sit this op out. “This time, I’m afraid ‘we’ doesn’t include you, my friend. Next time. When you are fully recovered.”

  Ace waved his hand, a dismissive gesture aimed at all the concerned glances directed his way. “Bah! I’m fine. Never felt better.”

  Blackhawk tried to suppress a laugh. Ace did seem better than he had when he stood at death’s door, but he was still hardly the picture of health. He was white as a sheet, and he looked like he’d fall over if he hadn’t had the wall to lean on. He was thin and haggard, and his voice, for all his efforts to enunciate, was weak and thin.