Enemy in the Dark (27 page)

“I don't know, Ark, but I'm sure the marshal believes Lan
caster 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 long-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.”

“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 sys
tems 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.

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 trans
mitting 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.