by Jay Allan
“Do you really think there is some massive enemy out there? I know the slaving ring on Eris was a large operation, but perhaps it was just that, a big criminal organization that is now destroyed.”
He leaned back on the small stack of pillows and sighed. “It’s tempting to think that. It would make things simpler. Most people would let themselves accept that, go back to life as usual without the stress and worry.”
“But not you.” It was almost a question but not quite. Ana had come to know and understand him well, far more quickly than anyone else ever had. “You’re usually right, aren’t you?”
“Yes,” he said, his voice deadpan, not a trace of ego in the response. “About things like this. The truth is almost always worse than people allow themselves to believe. I’m sure there is something bigger going on. When we fought the Gold Spears on Lysandria, there were troops there we’ve never encountered before, thousands of them…well trained and equipped. I know all the major merc companies, Ana. I have no idea where they came from.”
“What do you think it is?” There was something in her voice, not fear exactly, but unease.
“You think the same thing I do, don’t you?” he asked, ignoring her question.
“I really don’t know, Darius. I’d never been off of Karelia before you came there. Never farther than thirty kilometers from the capital. I really have no idea what’s out there, not even the things you know about already.”
He reached out and took her hand. “But you’re afraid, aren’t you? You’re shaking.”
“Because I know you. I know the kind of man you are.”
Darius felt a twinge. Usually when the conversation turned to what kind of man he was things tended to get ugly. “What do you mean?” he asked, a touch of defensiveness in his tone. He didn’t care what most people thought, but he’d come to realize his usual defense mechanisms didn’t work with Ana.
“Nothing bad.” She forced a smile, clearly understanding she had inadvertently touched a nerve. “You’re smart. You don’t let fear or neediness interfere with your judgment. I can tell how worried you are, and it scares me. Anything that has you so tense, so concerned…it has to be catastrophic.”
He moved his hand to her cheek, slowly brushing back her hair. “You don’t have to worry, Ana. The Nest is the most heavily defended place in Occupied Space.” He looked as her, trying to decide if he’d allayed her fears. He wasn’t sure…she tended to see through him, to understand exactly what he was thinking, in a way no one ever had before. And what he was feeling was fear. He didn’t know much about the enemy, or what they were planning. But he was sure that no place was safe…not even the Nest.
Maybe especially not the Nest.
Chapter 5
Pellas Spaceport
Planet Atlantia, Epsilon Indi II
Earthdate: 2319 AD (34 Years After the Fall)
Elias Cain was losing patience. He’d been on to something, he was sure of it, but now the trail had gone cold. It had started simply enough, with the bust of two men selling illegal goods, banned imports from Malagar. The Malagari government was hardly a government at all, more of a loose framework of local rulers. The planet had few real laws, and none at all regulating its trade with other worlds. So along with exotic foodstuffs and rare hardwoods from its great forests, its ships carried potent hallucinogenic liquors and pleasure-inducing drugs from its jungle zones. On Atlantia, a world where recreational drugs were banned, along with all alcoholic beverages stronger than table wine, such commerce was unwelcome. After a few years of trying to police Malagari freighters, the government simply redlined Malagar, barring access to the Atlantia—and the entire Epsilon Indi system—to its traders.
Nevertheless, Malagari goods still found their way onto Atlantia’s black markets, the government prohibitions proving no more effective than similar policies on other worlds. But the illegal imports weren’t Cain’s primary concern. He’d become quite interested in the apparent level of organization behind businesses like smuggling and illegal importation. He’d always viewed criminals as just that, lawless adventurers seeking to build their fortunes flouting a planet’s laws. But after learning how large the slaving ring had been on Earth and how strong a base they had built in secrecy on Eris, he began to wonder if there was a relationship between different criminal groups. Was routine crime on Atlantia all homegrown and organic? Or was there something—someone—else behind much of it? Human history had seen many versions of organized crime. Could such a thing exist in an interstellar scale?
Pellas Spaceport was the main hub of freight moving to and from Atlantia, and the landing bays of the main complex were surrounded by clusters of dive bars, the type of establishment frequented by career spacers and transients who traveled the warp gates of Occupied Space. Half of them had hidden brothels on their upper levels, just the kind of place Elias would have busted without a second thought a few months earlier. But he didn’t have time for that now. His mind was on something bigger…and much more disturbing.
He’d been thinking differently about many things recently, actively questioning much of what he saw going on around him. He didn’t have any newfound sympathy for criminals, for those who sought to profit from breaking the rules but, though he’d never admit it, his brother had gotten to him. He felt like he was paying closer attention to things he had always taken on faith, and he was starting to come to different conclusions that he had before. Very uncomfortable ones. Starting with the fact that he realized there was as much crime and immorality in the centers of power as in the sleazy bars around the spaceport. Perhaps more.
He’d spent many sleepless nights deep in thought since he’d returned, wondering what he needed to do, how to proceed. It was one thing to see the corruption around him more clearly, and quite another to determine a way to deal with it. The politicians had exempted themselves from many of the rules they had imposed on the public, creating a legal shield that allowed them to avoid prosecution, even when their actions were discovered. Elias was finding it difficult to devise a way to clean up the government without violating many of the very laws he’d sworn to uphold. He knew that would mean nothing to Darius, that his brother would take whatever action suited him and damned the laws and the corrupt politicians who’d written them. But that was against everything Elias had believed his entire adult life. He detested the dishonestly of those in power, but would he be any better than they if he ignored the laws himself, pursuing what he judged to be right and not what was legal? What authority did he have to set himself up as sole arbiter of right and wrong?
He found the whole thing upsetting, all the more so because of his new suspicions that much of the crime on Atlantia had its origin someplace offworld. The Black Eagles had destroyed the slavers’ base on Eris, leaving nothing behind but radioactive slag. Still, whoever had built that base, and supported such a vast operation, clearly had enormous resources. He doubted the destruction of one base had finished them off…and that meant they were still out there, plotting their next move.
He had no proof, nor any real specifics about what he was looking for, but he’d come to believe the slavers were just one part of a massive criminal organization that operated throughout occupied space. Including Atlantia.
Your imagination is running wild. You don’t know any of this, you’re just speculating wildly. But it does explain a lot of things. At the very least, they were sending those people somewhere…
Now he began to wonder, to ask the question he’d tried to hold at bay, the inquiry that threatened his very belief system. Did the crime on Atlantia exist under the noses of the government and the politicians…or were they part of it? And what would he do if he found proof, evidence that his world had become controlled by evil and dishonest men and women? He’d never thought of himself as a potential rebel. Indeed, he’d have gladly crushed any who rose up against their legal government. But now he was deep in confusion, unsure what to do or even whether he should try to learn more.
&nbs
p; “Captain Cain…”
He turned abruptly, his tension increasing the suddenness and apparent hostility of his move. His hand had moved toward his gun, but then he snapped his arm away. The man standing in front of him was one of his own, not an enemy.
“Yes, Lieutenant?” Anson Haviland was a decorated officer, and his second-in-command…and a man who had wielded his badge of office in as heavy-handed a manner as Elias himself. As much a martinet as me, he thought, echoing what he imagined Darius would have said.
“Sir, there is news. A distress drone transited through the Epsilon-14 warp gate. We’ve been ordered back to headquarters immediately.”
“Epsilon-14? There’s nothing even there. Except…”
Carlyle. The first shipment of STUs. Has she left yet? The departure of the first STU shipment was a closely-guarded secret, one above his own pay grade.
“Let’s go.” Cain had a cold feeling in his gut. He’d been nervous about sending the freighter unescorted, but Atlantia didn’t have a navy, not really. Just a small fleet of patrol boats. And the Ministry of Trade had decided secrecy was better protection for the inaugural STU shipment than a meager show of arms. Cain hadn’t agreed, but he’d bowed to the orders of his superiors.
He knew what his brother would say about that too.
* * * * *
“Captain Cain, I don’t have to remind you again how disturbing we found your trip to the Sol system. Atlantia is not Earth’s old Wild West. We have laws here, and as—until recently at least—one of our most promising enforcement officers, you are expected to set the example. Atlantia is an orderly society, and its citizens are not allowed to simply pick up and leave—and travel wherever they may choose. They must be granted a travel permit. This policy is for their own safety as well as the good of the state.
“Sir, I apologize if I may have inadvertently violated any policy, but as you know, I did have a travel permit.” Elias felt something inside, something new. An anger, a growing resentment, not just at the Chief, but at the excessive regulation he suddenly saw so much more clearly than he had before. He had been nothing but a loyal Atlantian, and now that he found himself under the harsh light he’d placed on so many others, he found himself confused, questioning all he had believed. He controlled himself; he was still an Atlantian officer of the law, and his discipline was as strong as it had been. But underneath the iron façade, he was deeply troubled, questioning many things he had always accepted.
The Chief sighed. “You do not help your cause, Elias, with verbal gymnastics. You had a travel permit to Mars for recreational purposes, a document you were able to obtain easily and quickly because of your record to that point. You did not receive such deference to allow you to engage in a meeting with representatives of foreign governments…much less mercenary companies like the Black Eagles. I know Darius Cain is your brother, but must I remind you he is a wanted criminal on Atlantia? You saw him. Did you attempt to apprehend him?”
“No, sir. That would have been…difficult. He was accompanied by a regiment of his soldiers.” Elias knew he was being evasive. He had many issues with Darius, but he couldn’t imagine ever turning his brother in, even if it had been remotely feasible. Beyond simple loyalty to his twin, he shuddered to think of how the Black Eagles would react if an Atlantian enforcement officer arrested their commander and dragged him back for trial. The Atlantian defense forces were reasonably well trained and equipped, but he didn’t try to fool himself that they were a match for the Eagles. And the thought of those mercenaries, enraged as they would be at the abduction of their leader, was enough to turn his blood cold.
“I will be honest with you, Elias. You have damaged your career. Badly. Indeed, there is still an investigation underway, and the possibility remains that you will be brought up on charges. Of course, that would mean the end of your service…and a substantial prison term as well.” The Chief paused, allowing his words to hang briefly in the air. “But if you complete this mission with the competence you have displayed so often in the past, I am assured that you will be granted a full pardon for your transgressions…and returned to the advancement track within the agency. And you and I shall never speak of your unfortunate conduct again. Not many men get an opportunity to wash away their sins.”
Elias fought back another wave of anger, a stronger one. He resented his actions being characterized as transgressions, much less sins. He had met with Roderick Vance, that was true—and with his brother and mother as well…but the matter hadn’t had anything to do with Atlantia or its foreign policy. He’d divulged no secrets, made no representations on behalf of Atlantia or its government. And he hadn’t even joined in the attack on Eris. He’d been back on Mars, recovering from an assassination attempt that had come close—very close—to finishing him off.
“Yes, sir. I will do my best.” He tried to speak naturally, to make his answer sound appreciative and not resentful, but he found it difficult. “Thank you for the opportunity.” He spat out the last words like something that tasted bad.
He stood up, struggling to hide the tension he felt in every muscle. “With your permission, sir, I will go prepare for the mission. The sooner we lift off the better.”
“I couldn’t agree more, Captain Cain.” A short pause. “Don’t let me down, Elias. You are getting a second chance. I wouldn’t expect a third…”
* * * * *
Armando DeSilva leaned back in his almost absurdly plush chair. The seat was made from Arcadian leather, hand stitched and buttery soft to the touch. It was a perk of DeSilva’s office, one of many the taxpayers of Atlantia funded for their president.
Atlantia’s highest-ranking politician had come from nothing. Indeed, he had arrived as a teenager along with his parents, refugees from Earth, just after the Fall. Not many people had escaped Earth’s final agony, but DeSilva’s father had been an engineer, and his skills were badly needed on a planet struggling to adjust to full independence after the Alliance’s destruction.
DeSilva had built a political machine the likes of which Atlantia’s unsophisticated citizen-politicians had never seen, and in just six years the ambitious young politico had built a 60% majority in the Planetary Assembly and gotten himself elected president in a landslide. There had been rumors of intimidation at the polls and widespread voter fraud, but they didn’t last long. Not once he’d gotten into office and gained control over the courts and law enforcement agencies. He sent his most zealous enforcers after his political opponents, and he filled the prisons with those he deemed as a threat, all in the name of law and order, of course. He’d been reelected twice, the last time unopposed, and he’d occupied the office for ten years now.
“I am concerned,” he said, his voice a slow drawl, very unlike the fast speech typical among Atlantians. “Captain Cain is, by all accounts, a true believer…and a gifted officer. What if he is able to uncover something…inconvenient while he is in Epsilon-14?”
“Elias Cain will find nothing in his quest. He will return empty handed, having found neither the Carlyle nor any trace of her attacker. We have made certain of this. And the Black Flag will return you half the value of Carlyle’s cargo, a king’s ransom. And a treasure that will be utterly secret. Yours to do with as you please. To enhance your grip on power, perhaps…”
DeSilva stared across his desk at the woman sitting in one of his guest chairs. She was attractive, there was no question about that, slim, classy, professional. But there was something else too, something he couldn’t quite place. A darkness? To look at her, she could have been the representative of a trading house or a large bank, but when she spoke he felt odd. Like a shiver going down his spine.
“I appreciate your confidence, Asha, but I still feel we must have a contingency plan in place, just in case Elias Cain does uncover some evidence of the…interception…of Carlyle.” The mysterious emissary had been on Atlantia for two years, and she’d kept every promise she had made. But he was still uncomfortable. He knew little about her, other
than the fact that she had powerful friends. She’d aided him in fairly innocuous ways at first, but things had rapidly escalated in recent months. Now he had conspired with her to see an Atlantian ship taken by pirates, its crew murdered and its priceless cargo lost…at least as far as anyone outside his inner circle knew.
“In that extremely unlikely circumstance,” she replied, her tone cool and professional, but having the usual effect on DeSilva nevertheless, “I would propose that we simply eliminate Captain Cain.”
“That is easier said than done.” Greg Moore had been sitting quietly in the second guest chair, but now he spoke up. “The Cain family is still revered by the public. Erik Cain is a hero, loved by the people, and his death defending Occupied Space during the Second Incursion only increased his legend. And unlike his brother, Elias Cain has been a loyal Atlantia, widely regarded as an exemplary citizen. There will be considerable backlash if we attempt to sanction him…and certainly if he is condemned and executed.”
DeSilva sighed. “Public heroes are an inconvenience, but I fear my chief of staff is correct. Elias is the only Cain remaining on Atlantia at present. I’d love to be rid of him, but I am very concerned about potential fallout.”
Asha looked over at Moore then back to DeSilva. “There are deaths, gentlemen…and there are deaths.” Her intonation changed considerably in the second half of her statement. “If you decide Elias Cain must die, we will have to devise something suitable…an appropriately disreputable death.” She stared across the table at Atlantia’s president. “If he were to be arrested and executed, or even shot by the police, there would be a backlash. But, were he to be found dead of an overdose of some illegal substance, alongside a whore perhaps, I suspect the public reaction would be quite different.”
Moore had a stunned expression on his face. He looked like he was going to say something, but DeSilva beat him to it. “And if we were to decide such a measure was necessary, are your…friends…in a position to assist us? We couldn’t risk using any of our personnel. Elias Cain is too well-liked among our operatives. If the truth ever came out…” He let his voice trail off slowly. There was no point in taking ‘what ifs’ like that too far.
