Enemy in the Dark

by Jay Allan

  Jardaines shifted his weight uncomfortably. He opened his mouth to speak, but he closed it again without saying anything.

  “What is it, Commodore? Speak freely.”

  “Sir . . . I guess you haven’t heard the news, but the Vestron firm has been recently sold. It must have come out while you were in hyperspace.”

  “Sold? To whom?” Lucerne had a tight feeling in his stomach. He suspected he wouldn’t like what he was about to hear.

  “Lancaster Interests, sir. Apparently they bought the whole thing, lock, stock, and barrel. For a generous sum too, especially considering that the Vestrons were in distress.”

  Lucerne looked down at the floor for a few seconds, trying to compose himself.

  He failed.

  “Danellan Lancaster! In league with the governor?” He felt the wave of anger sweeping across him, and his whole body shook.

  Is it possible? Could Lancaster—could all of Antilles—have betrayed me? If they did, I swear to Chrono I will . . .

  “Excuse me, sir, but there is more.”

  Lucerne turned abruptly. “What, Commodore?”

  “It was in the morning briefing, sir. The Antillean Senate postponed the vote on formal membership in the Far Stars Confederation. The stated reason was a localized drought that prevented a significant number of senators from attending. But if the Lancasters have . . .”

  “Betrayed us,” Lucerne finished the statement. He turned and slammed his fist on the table. Danellan Lancaster stabbed me in the back. He lied to my face, and he waited for just the right moment to make his move.

  The rage surging through his body was elemental. Lucerne was normally a patient man, one slow to anger. But now he surrendered to it completely. What arrogance! What greed! I offered Lancaster the lifeblood of a dozen worlds to feed his insatiable lust for money and it wasn’t enough!

  “Commodore,” he said, barely containing his fury at the news, “send a communications drone to Celtiboria immediately. Admiral Desaix is to assemble the fleet, every ship fit for combat. He is to recall the vessels dispatched to the expeditionary forces. I want every transport that can fly filled to the supports with troops, every freighter commandeered and stuffed with ordnance.” He turned and stared at Jardaines, his eyes glittering with rage. “Destination Antilles.”

  “Yes, sir.” The commodore snapped his commander a perfect salute, and he turned and rushed out the door to carry out his orders.

  Lucerne stared at the wall, his body shaking, his hands at his sides clenched into tight fists.

  You will learn, Danellan Lancaster. You will learn the price of betrayal. You and all of Antilles.

  “He’s gone mad, Ark.” General DeMark sat in a chair looking across the table at Blackhawk. The two were sitting on the lower level of the Claw, just outside DeMark’s camp. The room was filled with most of the crew. DeMark had intended to speak alone with Blackhawk, but he’d come to trust and respect the rest of them as well.

  The Celtiborian general was tense. He was worried about Lucerne—and uncomfortable speaking behind the marshal’s back. “I wouldn’t be here, but there is no one as close to Lucerne as you, Ark. I didn’t know who else to go to. You need to stop him.”

  “Stop what, Rafaelus? What has he done?”

  “We discovered that Vestron Shipping was behind the weapons deliveries. To Castilla and Rykara as well as Nordlingen.”

  “Vestron? The Vestrons are headquartered on Buchhara, aren’t they?”

  “Yes, but the company has been sold.” He paused. “To the Lancasters.”

  The Claw’s crew had been watching silently, but now a ripple of murmurs swept through them.

  “Are you saying that the Lancasters are working with the governor? With the empire?” Blackhawk’s tone was one of disbelief. “That is hard to believe. I know Danellan Lancaster would sell his grandmother for a trading concession, but it never entered my mind he had the guts for a play like this.”

  “We seized a Vestron convoy entering this system. The ships were stuffed with imperial weapons. And there was other evidence. Records in their computer systems that suggested the Lancasters had effective control of the company even before the acquisition closed. During the time period of all the deliveries.”

  Blackhawk took a deep breath.

  “I still find it hard to believe. Danellan Lancaster is an ambitious—no, a greedy—man, but it is quite a leap to sell out all of the Far Stars and become the greatest traitor in five centuries. How could he even trust the governor’s word, regardless of what he was promised? He’s a fool, but not a complete imbecile. And I can’t imagine him having the courage to cross Lucerne.”

  “I don’t know, Ark, but I’m sure the marshal believes Lancaster is in league with the imperials. I’ve never seen him so angry. And you know Augustin Lucerne is not one to let a problem fester.”

  “What has he done?” Blackhawk asked in a flat voice.

  “He has ordered Admiral Desaix to assemble the entire fleet.” He paused. “He is going to Antilles, Ark. He is going to Antilles with the whole fleet and half a million troops.”

  Blackhawk stared back for a moment, before asking, “You mean he is planning to invade Antilles?”

  DeMark just nodded.

  “Where is he now, Rafaelus?” Blackhawk said as he leaped up from his seat. “I need to talk to him.”

  “It’s too late, Ark. He’s gone. His ship entered hyperspace an hour ago.” There was deep resignation in DeMark’s tone. He’d tried to dissuade Lucerne himself, but the marshal had ignored his entreaties.

  Blackhawk sat back down. “We have to find a way to stop this. A war between Celtiboria and Antilles will be a holocaust. We can’t let it happen.” He hesitated, clearly thinking, then turned back to his people. “Sam, get down to engineering right away and warm up the reactor. We’re going to Antilles, and we’ve got to get there before Lucerne and the Celtiborian fleet. We have to find out what is going on . . . and if Danellan Lucerne was actually foolish enough to get involved with the empire, we need to put a stop to it. Immediately.”

  “How are you going to do that, Ark?” DeMark asked. “How will you even get to him? He virtually owns Antilles. The planet is a Prime. You can’t just land out in the desert and sneak into town like you can on the Rim.”

  “I’ll get to him, General.” The voice came from the other side of the room, where the Claw’s crew was gathered. There was a chill to the tone. DeMark recognized the pilot, as he stepped forward. He had met him once or twice—Lucas, he believed it was—but he was one of the few members of the Claw’s crew he didn’t really know.

  Lucas was saying, “I will find out what he has done. I will find out everything, every detail. And I will do whatever is necessary to stop this war from happening. Even if I have to put a bullet in Danellan Lancaster’s head.”

  “I appreciate your spirit, Lucas,” the general said, “but how are you going to get to Danellan Lancaster? What makes you think he will see you?”

  Lucas stared right at the Celtiborian with cold eyes. “Because he is my father, General.”

  “Get a tracer on that ship before they jump, Starn, or by Chrono, I will slice you open from your neck to your flea-infested sack.” Kandros was standing on the bridge, watching Wolf’s Claw blast out of the Nordlingen orbit like a bullet leaving a gun.

  Starn Quintus was staring intently at his screen. The Claw was going somewhere in one hell of a hurry. The way they were going, he wouldn’t be surprised to see them jump any minute. Normal procedures called for moving at least a light-minute from any planetary body before entering hyperspace, but Quintus had a feeling Blackhawk and his people were about to disregard that. Jumping close to a planet was dangerous, but then again Wolf’s Claw had Lucas Lancaster at the helm.

  “I’m getting strong power readings, Captain.” Quintus knew immediately. “They’re powering up their jump drive.”

  “Bring us around into their blind spot, Starn.” Kandros looked at the lo
ng-range scanner. The blockading ships were all farther out into the system. They might detect Iron Wind, but there was nothing they could do about it. By the time any of them were in range, the ship would be in hyperspace, hot on the trail of the Claw.

  “Coming around behind them, Captain. We should be in their blind spot.” His fingers moved over the controls. “Deploying tracer now.”

  The bridge was silent, every eye on the screen, waiting to see if they managed to get a link to the Claw before she jumped.

  Easy does it, Quintus thought, his hands moving slowly over his workstation. Don’t let them slip away . . .

  “Is that Wolf’s Claw?” Astra stared at the yacht’s small screen. “They’re heading somewhere in one hell of a hurry.”

  Lys was sitting in the pilot’s seat. She looked up at the display, hitting a few keys and bringing up a list of statistics. “It’s not broadcasting any identification beacon, but it matches the Claw’s mass and dimensions.” She was watching the AI display a 3-D model. “Upper and lower turrets too, Astra. If it’s not the Claw, it’s a hell of a coincidence.”

  “It looks like they’re about to enter hyperspace.” Astra’s hands ran over the controls. “Yes, we’re picking up an energy buildup.” She paused for a few seconds, her eyes focusing on a small symbol on the edge of the display. “Lys, take a look at this ship. If I didn’t know better, I’d say it was following the Claw.”

  “It sure looks like it’s tailing, and the way it’s maneuvering, I’d guess its crew is trying to get a tracer on the Claw.”

  Astra frowned. “I’m surprised they managed to get that close to Wolf’s Claw. I’ve seen Ace on the scope before, and I can’t imagine him letting someone get into the ship’s shadow.”

  “Well, I don’t know what’s going on there, but they are clearly in a rush to get somewhere.”

  Astra got up and moved forward, sliding into the copilot’s chair next to Lys. The yacht normally had a crew of eight, but this time it was just the two of them. Their takeoff hadn’t been what would normally be called “authorized,” but Astra wasn’t about to sit uselessly under guard on Celtiboria. Not while everyone she cared about was in some kind of danger.

  “Why is that ship following them?” She spoke softly, mostly to herself. She had no answers, but she was pretty sure it couldn’t be good. She punched at the control panel, bringing up the communications interface. “Damn . . . the Claw’s jumping. It’s too late to warn them.”

  She turned and looked at her foster sister. “Lys, do you think you can work us behind that ship and get a tracer on it?”

  Lys sighed. “I don’t know, Astra. I’m not a hotshot pilot. I can barely fly this thing as is.”

  “Try.” Astra’s voice was tinged with concern. “I don’t know what that ship’s crew is up to, but if they’re following the Claw they’re up to no good.”

  “And they’re powering up for a jump now. They’re definitely following the Claw.” She gripped the controls tightly. “Okay, Astra, strap yourself in. This may be a rough ride.”

  “Just stay on them, Lys. We can’t lose that ship.” She shook her head. “We just can’t.”

  CHAPTER 26

  “MARSHAL, ARE YOU SURE ABOUT THIS? DON’T YOU THINK WE should wait until we have a better idea what is actually happening?” Callisto was standing at Lucerne’s side on Glorianus’s flag bridge. The hulking vessel was the biggest and most powerful instrument of war in the Far Stars, though even its enormous strength failed to match the legendary firepower of an imperial battleship.

  “I know enough, General.”

  There was an anger in Lucerne’s voice that shook Callisto. The marshal was always in control. Whether it was in the middle of war or when his daughter was abducted—through whatever pain or difficulty he was enduring—the man was always under control. But now Callisto could tell that legendary hold on discipline was frayed to the breaking point.

  “But, Marshal . . .”

  “General Callisto, I appreciate your sentiment, but this has nothing to do with anger.” All evidence to the contrary, Callisto thought, even as the marshal continued. “If Danellan Lancaster—indeed, all of Antilles—is in league with the imperial governor, we have no time to waste. We cannot allow our only true rival in the Far Stars to ally with the empire.” He turned toward Callisto and stared into the general’s eyes. “Is that the war you want to fight? Do you want to see your sons march off to die in battle with the legions of the empire? Would you have our soldiers—and then our civilians—become the victims of Antillean treachery?”

  No, Callisto thought, but a war with Antilles will be a bloodbath. I know what that means . . . and you used to as well.

  And yet he said nothing.

  “We must take decisive action or see all we have fought for for thirty years disappear. I didn’t trust Danellan Lancaster, but I never imagined the man would betray the entire sector and bow down to the imperials. Now he will pay the price.”

  Callisto took a deep breath. His head had been spinning since he’d gotten Lucerne’s order to prepare the bulk of his army on Rykara to embark immediately. He knew Lucerne was enraged, but he couldn’t argue with the marshal’s reasoning either. If Antilles became a puppet of the empire, the rest of the Far Stars would be in mortal danger. Even the great Celtiborian war machine Lucerne and his people had built would be imperiled. If the marshal’s suspicions were true, there was no choice. But war with Antilles was as unthinkable as it seemed to be necessary. Perhaps there was no choice, but Callisto was nervous. He’d never seen Lucerne so angry before, never seen him react on pure emotion. Would he try everything to avoid war? Or would he just lash out as soon as the fleet arrived?

  “We have to be sure, Marshal. If we are in error . . .”

  “It is no error, General. Danellan Lancaster’s ships have been providing imperial weapons to our enemies for months now. The thousands of your men dead on Rykara—and all those on Nordlingen as well—that is the blood price of this man’s treachery.” He glared at Callisto, and the general could see a glint of madness in his master’s eyes.

  “But perhaps his treachery is his own, and not the whole planet’s.”

  “Perhaps, General. I would like to think that. But don’t forget that the Lancasters virtually control Antilles. And, because of that, Danellan Lancaster was able to delay the vote on the planet joining the confederation, which hardly suggests any independence on the part of the other Antillean leaders.” Lucerne paused, the anger in his voice dropping slightly in intensity. “Still, we will give them a chance. We will offer them the opportunity to surrender. Then we can purge all imperialists from their world and proceed with the confederation.

  “After we execute Danellan Lancaster and any of his people who were involved in this betrayal, that is.”

  Callisto’s stomach tightened. He’s past reason. He’s running on pure rage.

  “Perhaps if you were to speak with their prime minister . . . or a delegation of their senior senators?”

  “More talk? Have we not negotiated with them in good faith already? Is there wisdom in allowing a liar another chance to deceive?”

  “No, sir. Of course not. But there must be another way.”

  The anger in Lucerne’s eyes faded away, replaced by a deep sadness. “Why, General? Why must there be another way? Because we desire it? Because we wish to avoid bloodshed and destruction? Was there another way on Celtiboria? Did we not treat with the warlords again and again, bribing them with promises of position and wealth, practically begging them to join with us? What did all our negotiations accomplish? In the end we had to destroy them all, and it took three decades of bloody war to do it. We ache for the carnage to end, General, pray to whatever unseen powers rule the universe, but they do not answer. They leave us to wash away our own sins . . . in blood.”

  Callisto held back a sigh. Lucerne wasn’t going to back down—and Callisto wasn’t even sure he should. If Antilles was truly in league with the empire, it was a
far more powerful base of operations than Galvanus Prime. And imperial resources dwarfed those of the Far Stars. Perhaps there was no choice but war, unless this show of force proved to be enough.

  Callisto felt a brief surge of hope, but it vanished as quickly as it had come. Allied with the empire or not, he knew a proud and powerful world like Antilles would never surrender. They would fight. And they would lose, but not before millions had died and great cities had burned. Apocalypse was looming over the Far Stars, threatening to destroy everything Lucerne had built. And Arias Callisto had no idea how to stop it. Or if he should even try.

  “Approaching Antilles’s system, Captain. Estimate ten minutes until we enter normal space.” Lucas was sitting at his controls, monitoring the Claw’s position in hyperspace. Most of the systems were down, and he’d had little to do but sit and think about his pending reunion.

  The last time he’d seen his father had been six years before, when the Lancaster patriarch had banished his wayward son from the family estate, indeed from all dealings with the Lancaster clan. Lucas had been a world-class fuckup, he couldn’t argue that. But Blackhawk’s tough love had brought him back from the brink of self-destruction, and he wondered why a wayward adventurer cared enough to make that effort when his own father didn’t.

  Lucas had embarrassed the family many times, no doubt. And his last scandal, involving the sequential seductions of a powerful senator’s wife and then his daughter, had been a difficult one to clean up after, even for a man as wealthy as Danellan Lancaster. Preserving the family’s political influence had required sacrificing his only son, and Lucas would never forget—or forgive—his father’s choice.

  “You okay, Lucas?” Blackhawk asked quietly.

  “Yeah, Skip. I’m fine.” He was lying, and he knew Blackhawk knew it. But just knowing the captain was there gave him strength. Lucas had been clean for a long time—not so much as a drink stronger than fruit juice had passed his lips in more than five years. But thinking about his reunion with his father was bringing back the old urges. He pushed the thoughts away, but he could feel them tugging at him.