Enemy in the Dark

by Jay Allan

  But he knew drugs and alcohol would do nothing to change the facts of this bloodline. Yes, Lucas Lancaster was the rightful heir to one of the biggest fortunes in the Far Stars, but he wanted nothing to do with it. To him, the Lancaster clan, the massive family business, the constant jockeying for power and position—they were all toxic. More than once he felt the urge to reach down, change the ship’s course, go to some faraway planet on another crazy mission, and forget all about Antilles and his father. But that wasn’t possible. Whatever stress he felt, however much it threatened to break him down, turn him back into what he had been, he had to see this through. Too many lives were depending on it.

  “Bring us in as close to the planet as you can, Lucas. The less time we have to spend dealing with their naval patrols, the better.” Antilles was no fringe world shithole like Kalishar or Saragossa. The planet had a serious navy, and traffic coming in and out was strictly controlled. Blackhawk couldn’t just bring the Claw down in the wilderness outside a city and sneak in overland.

  “Got it, Skip.” Lancaster was working through the checklist, preparing for the transition from hyperspace. He was enormously grateful to have something to occupy his thoughts.

  “Sam, are you ready?” Blackhawk leaned over the comm unit.

  “I’m ready, Captain. I’ll get started as soon as my circuits power back up.” Very few ship’s systems functioned in hyperspace, and it usually took at least a few minutes for things to recover when a ship jumped back to normal space.

  “Remember, we need to look damaged. We have to convince them to override normal landing protocols and bring us in as an emergency case.”

  “Got it, Cap. They’ll think we’re close to death’s door. I can promise you that.”

  “Just no radiation leaks, Sam. They have to think our reactor is solid.” The Antilleans would never let a ship land with an unstable reactor.

  “No leaks, Skip. Got it.”

  “Whenever you are ready, Lucas,” Blackhawk said.

  The pilot nodded and stared down at his readouts. “Entering normal space in ten seconds.”

  Blackhawk leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes, waiting for the feeling of the transition.

  “Five.” Lucas’s voice was firm. He knew Blackhawk was going over again in his mind what he was going to say. They had discussed options for getting around Antilles’s lengthy landing approval and customs procedures. It had been Lucas’s idea to feign mechanical problems. He knew Antillean shipping law from his days at the Antilles Naval Academy, and vessels with dangerous damage or malfunctions were always given landing priority.

  “Transitioning . . . now.”

  The Claw shook briefly. A few seconds later, the main screen came on, staticky and unstable at first, then stabilizing. It displayed the planet Antilles, less than forty thousand kilometers away, recklessly dangerous proximity for a transit.

  “Amazing, Lucas. Talk about threading a needle.” Blackhawk flipped his comm frequency to the Antillean channels. “Antilles Control, this is the vessel Wolf’s Claw. We have a severe life support malfunction and request immediate permission to land so we may conduct repairs.”

  Lucas smiled. Blackhawk was perfect, just enough panic in his voice to make it believable. He knew Sam was down in engineering, ejecting fluids and gases from the ship, confirming to the Antillean scanning net that the Claw was, in fact, a ship in distress.

  “Vessel Wolf’s Claw, this is Antilles Control. We have scanned and confirmed your damaged systems. You are cleared to land immediately at Bay 11 in the Charonea spaceport. We are transmitting your landing instructions now. Please do not deviate from this flight plan.”

  Blackhawk smiled. “Thank you, Antilles Control. Wolf’s Claw out.” He turned toward Lucas. “And that, my young friend, is how it’s done.” He paused then added, “Thank Chrono we’ve managed to avoid killing or kidnapping anybody on Antilles. It’s one of the few places we’re still welcome.”

  “Hopefully that will still be true in a few hours.” Lucas smiled, and he managed to push the thoughts of his father away, at least for a few minutes. But he couldn’t avoid it for long. He was home, back where all his demons lived.

  “Get the scanners up, now.” Cedric Kandros was barking orders into his comm unit before the system had even rebooted. Iron Wind had just emerged from hyperspace, and the crew was still scrambling to bring its systems back online. But Kandros didn’t have Lucas Lancaster at the helm or Sam Sparks in engineering. Which meant that once again Wolf’s Claw had the advantage while Kandros impatiently waited to reestablish contact with Blackhawk’s ship. “How much longer?”

  “Just getting scanning power now, Captain.” Quintus was staring into the scope. “The tracer’s holding.” A short pause then: “Chrono’s stinking hide, they transited right on top of the planet.” He turned and looked back at Kandros. “I brought us in as close as I could manage, but they emerged less than fifty thousand kilometers out.” There was surprise in his voice, almost outright shock. “I’ve never seen a ship transit so close to a planet before.”

  Fucking Lucas Lancaster, Kandros thought. “Well, bring us in on a normal approach. It’s the best we can do.” He sat in his chair, shaking his head.

  “Captain, Wolf’s Claw is bypassing the entry queue and moving into a final approach pattern.” He turned to face Kandros. “How could they get priority landing authorization?”

  “I don’t know how Arkarin Blackhawk does half what he manages, Starn.” I’d steer clear of the dangerous son of a bitch if it wasn’t for that million crowns. “Contact Antilles Control right away and request permission to land as soon as possible. At least we’ve done some jobs for clients on Antilles. We’re in their data system, so we should get visitation visas without too much trouble.”

  “Yes, Captain.”

  Kandros looked at the screen displaying a magnified shot of Antilles. Why here, Blackhawk? You couldn’t just go to some shithole fringe world like you usually do? Someplace we could have blown you away in a saloon and walked out the door?

  Now he’d have to find just the right moment to strike, and until he knew more about what Blackhawk was doing, that was going to be tough. But he swore one thing: whatever happened, Arkarin Blackhawk was not getting off Antilles alive.

  He had a million reasons to ensure that.

  “Antilles? Why would they go to Antilles?” Astra turned and looked at Lys. The yacht’s AI and scanning suite had just come back online. It hadn’t taken long to confirm where they were. Astra had expected to chase the unidentified ship—and by proxy, Wolf’s Claw—to some fringe world on the edge of the Far Stars, the kind of dusty and disreputable hole in the ground Blackhawk tended to favor. Antilles was just about the last place she’d have expected him to go. The planet was one of the Primes, cosmopolitan and highly developed. The Claw might stop there occasionally for R&R or to resupply, but she had no idea why Blackhawk would take off like a bat out of hell for the place.

  “I don’t even have a guess. We’re assuming this ship was following Wolf’s Claw, but we don’t know for sure. It’s possible they gave up chasing the Claw. Maybe these guys live here and going after them was a waste of time.”

  “I don’t buy that.” Astra made a face. “You think they took the risk of sneaking a tracer past Ark’s people so they could ignore it and go home?”

  “No, of course not,” Lys replied. “But I have no idea why Wolf’s Claw would go to Antilles either.”

  “I don’t like this, not one bit. We need to get down there and find Ark.”

  Lys nodded. “I will contact Antilles Control and request a landing assignment.”

  Astra smiled. “Screw that. Look at that queue. Way too slow. It’s time to leapfrog some of these ships.” She punched at the comm board. “Antilles Control, this is the Celtiborian courier vessel Iridan. I am Astra Lucerne, on an urgent diplomatic mission, and I request immediate landing authorization.”

  “Celtiborian vessel Iridan, stand by.”r />
  Half a minute later, the comm crackled to life. “Celtiborian diplomatic vessel Iridan, you are clear for immediate landing at the Charonea spaceport, Gold Sector, Bay 03. Welcome to Antilles.”

  Astra flashed a smile across the cramped cockpit. “Message received, Antilles Control. We thank you for your prompt courtesy.”

  She held her smile, and then she winked at Lys. “I hate to play the Lucerne card, but I have to admit . . . it always works.” She paused and took a breath. “Now let’s get down there and make sure Ark knows he’s got a tail.”

  CHAPTER 27

  “GO, LUCAS. I’LL GET AUTHORIZATION FOR THE REST OF US TO leave here as quickly as I can, but you’re an Antillean national. Your DNA records are still in the system, so they’ll let you right through.” They were in the restricted holding area of the Charonea spaceport, where new arrivals were detained until their entry visas could be cleared.

  Blackhawk stared at his pilot for a few seconds. “I know this will be hard for you, Lucas, especially alone. But we don’t know how much time we have. Probably not much. When the Celtiborian war fleet transits out into this system, we’re going to be staring at the biggest fight in the history of the Far Stars.” He paused again and put his hands on Lucas’s shoulders. “We can’t wait. We need to know if Marshal Lucerne’s suspicions about your father are correct. You can do this.”

  Lucas nodded slowly. His stomach felt like two hands had grabbed it and squeezed. He hadn’t set foot on Antilles since the day Blackhawk had saved him from getting the worst beating of his life and took him back to Wolf’s Claw; if Lucas had had his way, he’d have never seen the place again. Even the couple times the Claw landed on the planet during those years, Lucas had stayed aboard, without so much as tuning in to the Antillean broadcast nets for old time’s sake.

  And now I’m going to walk directly into the heart of the society I hate.

  “I will contact you as soon as I manage to see him.” Lucas forced a smile on his face, then he turned and walked toward a different line, much shorter than the one his friends were on. In a few minutes he was in front of a desk, standing under a sign that read ANTILLEAN CITIZENS.

  “Name?” The attendant seemed bored, and she spoke in a deadpan voice.

  “Lucas Lancaster.”

  There was a pause. “Lancaster?” Not everyone on Antilles with that surname were members of the same family, but the Lancasters were legendary on a planet dedicated almost religiously to economic prosperity. They were also extremely numerous, and Lucas had hundreds of cousins, born further from the seat of power than he had been, but enormously wealthy nevertheless.

  “Yes, I’m afraid I’m one of those Lancasters. Danellan Lancaster is my father.”

  The attendant cleared her throat and smiled. “We never get anyone of your stature here, Mr. Lancaster.” Her eyes were wide, her expression almost one of shock. She didn’t sound bored anymore.

  Lucas sighed. Of course not. There was a separate area for yachts and other craft carrying the privileged elite of Antilles. He almost laughed imagining his father, or any of his arrogant and spoiled relatives, standing in a line at the spaceport.

  “Yes, well,” he said softly, “I’m sort of the family’s black sheep, I’m afraid. I’ve been away on a bit of an adventure, and I caught a ride home on a small ship that was heading this way.” He looked back at her with a pleasant smile. “I am anxious to get back and see my family, so I’d be grateful if you could get me through here as quickly as possible.”

  “Of course, Mr. Lancaster.” She glanced down at a glass plate on top of a small reader. “If you’ll just place your hand on the DNA scanner, I will get you out of here in half a minute.”

  Lucas reached out and laid his hand on the plate. He had a rush of irrational fear, a strange feeling that the scanner wouldn’t recognize him, but it was only a second before the attendant’s smile grew even wider—and more repulsive to him. He was still that Lucas Lancaster, however much he found the whole concept repellent.

  “Very well, Mr. Lancaster. Your ID checks out. Again, welcome home. If there is anything I can do for you, please do not hesitate to ask.”

  He felt a wave of nausea at the obsequious response his identity had provoked. She was a bored civil servant, with more than a touch of her own institutional arrogance, he guessed. She was ready to provide lackluster service to Antillean bookkeepers or engineers returning exhausted from long trips. Normal citizens standing in line spurred no urgency in her, but at the first hint of his identity she’d turned sickly sweet and rushed him through check-in.

  To be fair, though, it’s exactly what he’d hoped would happen. Still, he was once again reminded how much he loathed this place.

  “Thank you,” he replied as he walked past her station and the two guards flanking the door beyond. The sentries had been standing stone still the entire time he’d been on line, but now they jumped at his approach and opened the door for him.

  Lucas nodded his thanks, and he felt a sudden urge to get back to the Claw, to run away from politics and influence and all the corruption of his home world. He could feel the heaviness of his old life closing in on him, and he remembered the urges that drove him to his pipes and needles, and the escapism he had so often found at the bottom of a bottle.

  He realized just how much he preferred the honesty of a straight-up fight, the physical exhilaration of sitting at the controls of the Claw, desperately trying to escape a whole pack of enemies in pursuit. It didn’t make sense, at least not entirely. But at least in action, Lucas felt accomplishment, a value he brought to his crewmates that had nothing to do with twenty generations of rapacious ancestors.

  He considered the real loyalty and affection he felt for the Claw’s crew. He thought of Ace, who never seemed to tire of giving him shit about something, but who also would stand by his side and fight to the death before abandoning him. He compared that to the spaceport attendant, and the fawning way she had dealt with him as soon as she found out who he was, and was again reminded that wasn’t real, like Ace’s loyalty or Blackhawk’s respect. It was bullshit. Just like everything else on the world of his birth.

  He walked out of the terminal and into the bright sun. Antilles had produced a lovely spring day for his homecoming, at least. Though he imagined a few storm clouds would be more appropriate.

  He walked past the monorail station to a waiting line of cabs. There was a long queue, with a man directing the operation. Lucas sighed and turned to walk to the back when he heard a voice behind him.

  “Mr. Lancaster, allow me to introduce myself. I am Heinrich Klous, the assistant director of the spaceport. Miss Felter at the check-in desk notified me that you had just come through.”

  Of course she did. But he simply said, “Thank you.” Lucas wasn’t in the mood for another round of Lancaster worship, and he turned slowly back the way he’d been facing.

  The new arrival waved his hands at the attendant directing the cabs. “I am sorry you did not advise us of your impending arrival. We would have made an effort to move you more swiftly through the spaceport.” He waved toward the front of the row of cabs. “In any event, there is no need for you to stand in the line, Mr. Lancaster.” He gestured to the lead vehicle. “Please, sir, enjoy your trip to your destination and, again, welcome home.”

  Lucas sighed. “Thank you, Mr. . . . Klous was it?” He walked toward the cab, but the attendant got there first and opened the door.

  “Thank you,” Lucas said again, as he slipped inside the vehicle. He glanced back at the line and shook his head. Those people had all been on long trips. They were tired, and they missed friends and family. But he’d cut right in front of them, as if they weren’t there. He imagined they were supposed to consider themselves fortunate, blessed even, to catch sight of one of the mighty Lancasters. But he suspected there were other emotions there too, less attractive ones.

  Well, let them be angry at me. They deserve to be. If it helps anything, though, I am here to
stop a war . . .

  “Lancaster Tower,” Lucas growled to the driver. Let’s get this over with. I want to get the hell out of here as soon as possible.

  “ETA to Antilles, six hours, sir.” The bridge officer spoke in a stilted tone. Reporting directly to Marshal Augustin Lucerne was well above his normal pay grade.

  “Thank you, Lieutenant.” Lucerne was standing on Glorianus’s flag bridge next to Admiral Desaix. The crew was sitting around nervously. With most of the systems down in hyperspace, they didn’t have anything to do but think about the fact that the marshal was standing a few meters away. And they were a few hours from what might become the hardest war they’d yet faced.

  “Admiral, the fleet will transit into the outer system. As soon as all units have recovered and are fully operational, we will adopt battle formation and set a course for Antilles.” The red-hot anger was gone from Lucerne’s voice, replaced by the sound of resignation.

  “Very well, sir.” Desaix’s tone was somber. It was clear he wasn’t happy about recent events. He paused for a few seconds. “Marshal, are you . . .”

  “I am certain, Admiral. I appreciate your concerns, and I share them myself, but if Antilles is in league with the empire, we must move without delay . . . and we must strike hard. Time will only make things worse.” Lucerne turned and stared at his fleet commander. “You know this as well as I do, Emile. We cannot ignore a fact simply because it is a terrible one to believe.” The fatigue in his voice was overwhelming. “I will not stand aside while the Far Stars is sold into slavery. I traded away my principles, strove to great lengths to make Antilles an ally. If she chooses to be an enemy instead, so be it. She will learn what that means. But there is no solution in wishing for things to be different than they are.”