by Jay Allan
“Agreed,” the others thought almost in unison.
“Then so be it. The crusade shall begin, and Marshal Carrack will lead it.”
“Have we agreed on which target will be the diversion, and which the primary target?”
“We have discussed that many times, Three, and I believe we have all agreed. There are strong arguments for each, but I believe our final choice was based in sound logical analysis. It is uncomfortable to leave either of these enemies still in the field against us, and even more so to commit so much force to an effort that will almost certainly be unsuccessful in the end. But if it allows us to destroy one of the major threats we face, it will only strengthen our position. And, at all costs, we must prevent our greatest foes from joining forces against us. They are weakened by their instincts to defend their worlds, to fight to preserve planets from subjugation and destruction, but if they were to embrace a more aggressive strategy, if they were able to locate Vali, they could be a threat to us. By cutting one arm from the beast, we vastly lessen this danger.”
“It is done,” One said. “And now, all our years of effort have come to their final purpose.” The data files that had once been the clone expected something, to feel…satisfaction…at the momentous occasion. But there was nothing save analysis, cold thoughts on the coming campaign. He recalled the feelings of excitement, the joy at vengeance, but he couldn’t replicate them, at least not entirely. Indeed, even the true understanding of such things was fading. The plan was the plan, and that was all that mattered. Reasons were unimportant. Mankind was to be subordinated, perhaps even destroyed.
And now it would truly begin.
* * * * *
Aaron Carrack sat in the audience hall, looking out over the assembled officers and enjoying the tense looks as they stared up at his exalted presence. The Black Flag was a service that offered the promise of great rewards, but it also demanded unquestioning obedience and unfaltering competence. Disloyalty was punished in the harshest ways the most devilish minds in human space could contrive, but even honest failure warranted a death sentence. Fear and greed were the two pillars of the organization, and Carrack was entirely convinced they were the two greatest motivators of humankind.
Carrack was the Black Flag’s Marshal, its supreme military commander, the highest-ranking of its operatives, save the members of the Triumvirate themselves. Whatever they are now…
Carrack had served the Triumvirate for nearly thirty years. He’d been one of the original Gavin Stark’s operatives, and one of the first operations conducted by the embryonic Triumvirate had been to extricate him from the miserable, dusty prison where he’d been held since the end of the Shadow War. He was grateful for his rescue, and the opportunity to return to a position of power, and that road had taken him beyond anything he could have imagined. His soldiers were on hundreds of worlds now, enforcing the supplication of scared and intimidated political leaders and populations. And his vast fleets and armies were almost ready to begin the final crusade, the conquest and destruction of all who still opposed the Black Flag.
It was a wondrous moment, the culmination of a life’s work, and he owed all to the three clones who formed the Triumvirate. But gratitude was for fools, and Carrack had long been watching and waiting, his attention fixed on the advanced aging and bodily decay of his benefactors. The Triumvirate members had been cloned using the same techniques that had produced millions of Shadow Legion soldiers, and like those warriors, they suffered from the same genetic defect, a vastly accelerated aging process and premature death. Carrack appreciated all the clones had done for him, but that hadn’t stopped him from dreaming of the moment they succumbed to age and died, leaving him in total control of the vast power they had assembled.
He’d grown impatient as they lingered on far longer than he’d expected, and he’d even considered an assassination attempt. But then they finally died, and for a fleeting instant he thought his moment had come.
Then he was summoned to the room where the Intelligence was housed. It took several moments to realize what had happened, and then the reality sunk in. The Triumvirate was now part of the great computer, preserved and, for all practical purposes, immortal. His dreams of inherited power faded away in an instant.
Carrack was nothing if not a clever operative, and he adapted immediately, swearing renewed loyalty to his masters, and settling, for the time being, with his position in command of all the Black Flag’s military. He still harbored his ambitions, of course, but he knew the war would come first. Once Occupied Space had been conquered, when he had his own creatures ensconced in key positions of power, then would be the time. Carrack detested the strange, alien computer, and he knew that its destruction would also rid him of his troublesome masters. He would conquer all the worlds of humanity, and then he would return in victory…and obliterate Vali. There was an inefficiency to the destruction of so many resources and so much industry, but the Triumvirate members were too clever to trifle with. Subtle, complex plans were subject to breakdown. They no doubt suspected him of planned betrayal, and they would be ready for any moves he made less shocking and dramatic than planetary holocaust.
The cost of one world, however massively productive, was a small price to pay for total domination of all humanity.
But there was work to do now, much to accomplish before things came to such a pass. He had two attacks to launch, one a diversion, and the other a devastating blow to utterly destroy one of the Black Flag’s most dangerous enemies.
He stood up, resplendent, he knew, in his uniform, dripping with braid and medals and the kinds of trinkets that made people look at him and see power. “It is time,” he said forcefully. “Time for the great crusade we have worked for, trained for. Even now, our fleets are preparing, and within days we will be underway. The Black Flag demands much, but the rewards before us are immense. Everyone who serves, will share in the spoils. Even a footsoldier will live the rest of his life like a lord, awash in luxury and spoils.”
The crowd erupted into a wave of massive cheers, all of them imagining, he suspected, their own visions of such lives, of servants and money and power.
People will believe anything…anything at all…
Chapter 6
Eagle Fourteen
Outer System – Epsilon Indi II
Earthdate: 2321 AD (36 Years After the Fall)
“The vessel is secured, Colonel. Major Corrigan’s people are in control of all vital areas. They are currently searching the ship for any enemy forces still hidden or at large.”
Elias was going to ask about prisoners when Grayson continued, “They have taken three captives, sir. All other enemy crew members were either killed in combat or took their own lives.”
Elias was still getting used to how the Eagles seemed to anticipate questions, to the stunning completeness of their reports. “Very good, Captain. Please give Major Corrigan my compliments.” He felt that he should say something as commander of the expedition, but he imagined that words alone were hollow to the Eagles. Elias had his accomplishments in his own fields of endeavor, but these veteran warriors couldn’t possibly truly respect him, not as a military leader, especially since Darius had violated his own sacred code and given him a colonelcy he hadn’t earned in Eagles’ service.
“Bring the prisoners back as quickly as possible, Captain.” Elias stared at the display for a few seconds. He wanted to ask Grayson what he thought they should do next, but he couldn’t imagine a more effective way to piss away what respect he’d managed to gain from the Eagles. Darius Cain’s officers did not push off their responsibilities onto subordinates, they made decisions. “Can we get that vessel operational?”
Grayson paused, the first time Elias had seen any delay in the officer’s response. “No way to know for sure, sir, not until we can get an engineering team over there and get a good look. My best guess is we caused significant damage in disabling the ship. It’s likely repairable, but there is no way to know how long that will tak
e. And now that we’ve given away our presence, do we want to stay here that much longer? Are we ready to engage Atlantian ships if they intervene?” There was no fear in Grayson’s voice, and Elias suspected the Eagle was ready to face the entire Atlantian navy if necessary. There was something, though. Caution, perhaps. He got the impression Grayson didn’t think they should stay too much longer, and he was very inclined to agree with that point of view.
Elias paused now. He didn’t have proof Atlantia was cooperating with the Black Flag, but he didn’t have any doubts remaining either. There was an argument to try and glean more hard data—and an attack by the Atlantian navy would be pretty definitive evidence of Black Flag collusion, if not outright control. But Elias wasn’t ready to fight his own homeworld, not if he could avoid it. Not to mention, if Atlantia sent its entire fleet, they could give Eagle Fourteen one hell of a fight. It wasn’t that he didn’t think the Eagle ship could prevail, but his gut told him it was far from a sure thing at the odds they would face. They had captured Black Flag personnel, the first to be taken prisoner since the struggle began, and if Eagle Fourteen was destroyed here, that prize would be lost. No, it made sense to avoid another fight, to get back to the Nest and review all they’d discovered.
But he wanted that ship too.
“Can we tow it?” He stared at the display, his eyes focused on the small dot representing the enemy vessel.
“Yes,” Grayson replied. “It will affect our acceleration and maneuverability considerably, but we should be able to recall the strike forces and establish the towing setup before the Atlantians can get a response force this far out.”
“Do it, Captain. We’ve got enemy prisoners and one of their ships. That’s too valuable to risk.”
“Yes, sir.” Grayson turned to his tactical officer and issued a flurry of commands. Then he tapped his comm unit and said, “Major Corrigan, I need that ship one hundred percent secure, and I need it ten minutes ago.”
There was a brief delay, just a fraction of a second extra as the signals moved through space, but it was still noticeable. “Yes, sir. We’ve got all vital sections cleared with guards posted. My sweeper teams have covered everything but the cargo holds. They should be done soon, Captain.”
Grayson frowned. Elias knew the captain didn’t like vague terms like ‘soon’ in reports.
“Very well, Major. No shortcuts, but get it done. We’re going to set up a towing rig and take that ship back to the Nest. One saboteur who slips past you could cause us a lot of trouble, especially since Eagle Fourteen will be so close.”
“I understand, sir.”
“I want half your troopers deployed on that ship during the trip back to the Nest. And I want all external communications capability physically disabled. We don’t need an enemy ship we don’t know about out there somewhere, triggering some secret destruct system. You’ll use only our own comm between here and the Nest. Understood?”
“Completely, Captain.”
“Carry on, Major.”
Elias watched, amazed at how the two Eagle officers interacted without the slightest rivalry or envy. On Eagle Fourteen, Grayson was Corrigan’s superior officer, a relationship that reversed if the two were on the ground. Elias wondered if there was a gray area, with the soldier on another ship and the captain still on Eagle Fourteen, but it didn’t seem so from the two men’s demeanors. It didn’t seem there were many gray areas in Eagle operations.
He knew his brother had been beyond meticulous in writing the code of regulations for his army. A mercenary force lacked the inherited patriotic fervor a nation’s army started with, and Darius Cain had clearly made every effort to eliminate discord in his ranks, and avoid any conflicts that could drain away from morale and comradeship. He was still a bit concerned about the darkness of his brother’s thoughts, but there was no question that Darius Cain was a military master, one who had not only equaled, but surpassed their famous father.
“Sir, we’re picking up energy readings from Atlantia. Multiple vessels accelerating from planetary orbit.”
“Very well. Time to intercept?”
“Forty-two hours, sir. Assuming maximum known acceleration for Atlantian ships.”
Elias shook his head. Among the many surprises he’d discovered when he linked up with the Eagles was the extensive database Darius had built of the military forces of Occupied Space. He’d read the file on Atlantia, and he’d been stunned. His brother’s mercenaries knew more about his homeworld’s military than half her own admirals and generals. Another example of Darius’s chilling thoroughness.
“Can we set up the towing rig and get out of the system in forty-two hours, Captain?”
“Yes, sir. I don’t see any problem in meeting that deadline with a healthy margin of error.”
Elias stared at the small icons on the long-range display. He felt a moment of sadness. He’d never imagined he’d be looking at Atlantian ships and seeing an enemy. Darius had written off his homeworld, his anger at the way he felt he’d been treated overwhelming any vestiges of sentimentality and loyalty. But Elias still found it difficult, especially now, as the approach of that fleet virtually confirmed Atlantia was allied with the Black Flag.
His mind drifted to the beaches, the wild rocky coastlines of the magnificently beautiful world, his years as a child, before his father had gone off again to war, when they were a family, happy, peaceful. He wondered if a time like that could ever come again. Then a coldness swept through him, a hardness, driven by determination, and by anger at those who’d turned his world against everything it had once stood for. Darius was right about one thing…there was enormous strength in one’s dark side. And sometimes that power was needed.
“Let’s get it done, Captain,” he said, his voice colder, harder than it had been. He ached to go back to that time so long ago, but he knew it was gone…and that there was darkness and death, a war—no, a crusade—to fight before such a time could come again. If it ever could.
“Let’s get back to the Nest with that ship and our prisoners. It’s time to learn how to beat these bastards. How to wipe them from the galaxy like the disease they are.
* * * * *
“I think I should recall the fleet. That ship has to be Black Eagles. I’m not sure what would be worse, the entire navy being destroyed by it…or winning the fight and bringing the wrath of the Eagles down on us.” Armando DeSilva was edgy.
No, Asha Mazeri thought, he was downright scared. The man was a political mastermind, adept at manipulating polls, bartering with allies and rivals, surviving political storms like cockroaches endured nuclear devastation. But beneath it all, he was a gutless fool. He had his purposes, but he’d never serve the Black Flag for long. Perhaps she might even take his place and rule Atlantia openly, instead of from the shadows.
“You will not recall the fleet.”
“I remind you, I am the President of Atlantia, Minister Mazeri, not you, and I will make such decisions.”
She was amused at how pride and arrogance had the ability to momentarily drive away fear. DeSilva’s passing attempt to assert his authority was…how should she put it? Cute, she might say, if the Atlantian strongman didn’t annoy the hell out of her so much.
“I am only here to advise you, Mr. President.” A lie, of course. “But I must advise you that my superiors are not at all patient, and they will not look kindly on anything that could be misinterpreted as cooperation with the Black Eagles.”
“Cooperation?” DeSilva’s voice was shrill, shocked at the suggestion.
“General Darius Cain is an Atlantian, is he not?”
“He is not!” the politician explained. Then, as she stared at him with a harsh look on her face: “Well, only by birth. I remind you he is an outlaw here, condemned in absentia and sentenced to death. If he returns here he will be apprehended and taken at once to the scaffold.”
“If he returns here, Mr. President, it is likely to be at the head of his army of mercenaries. Not a terribly appealin
g image from your point of view, or that of your political allies. I doubt your armed forces are up to defeating the Black Eagles.”
“The Black Eagles,” DeSilva exclaimed. Then he stammered, “We can’t…not possibly. That is why we submitted to your…organization. For your protection.”
“And yet, you defy my requests. You argue with me over nonsense, to try to assert your independence, which you yielded long ago. I listen to your foolishness, Armando, and I allow a certain amount of it, but you would be well-advised to remember that your power base, the money that built your political machine, the bribes and blackmail, the force where necessary, all came from my, organization, as you put it. The Black Flag offers many strengths, many advantages, but it is not forgiving of insubordination. Or of failure.”
She paused and then she stared at him coldly. “You would be well-advised to remember that. You would not care to find out what happens to those who fail us, much less those who allow disloyalty to color their actions.”
DeSilva looked like he was about to wet himself. In fact, Mazeri wasn’t entirely sure he hadn’t. She’d been taught by her superiors the incredible power of well-directed fear, and she’d never been disappointed in its effectiveness. True courage was a rare thing, and most people could be easily intimidated.
“I…I…I did not…mean anything, Minister. I…ask for your understanding.”
“Of course, Armando. After all, we are friends, are we not?” She smiled, though she suspected he completely misunderstood the meaning of the gesture. “Now, listen carefully. That ship is dangerous, and it must be driven away. It was clearly here spying on us, and it cannot be allowed to remain. If the Eagles wanted to attack your fleet or planet, they would have done so already. In all likelihood, that battleship could obliterate your miserable excuse for a fleet if it came to a fight, but it will not. They will pull back at your approach, because their mission is information gathering and not an assault.”
