Death's Bright Day Read online

  Table of Contents

  CHAPTER 1

  CHAPTER 2

  CHAPTER 3

  CHAPTER 4

  CHAPTER 5

  CHAPTER 6

  CHAPTER 7

  CHAPTER 8

  CHAPTER 9

  CHAPTER 10

  CHAPTER 11

  CHAPTER 12

  CHAPTER 13

  CHAPTER 14

  CHAPTER 15

  CHAPTER 16

  CHAPTER 17

  CHAPTER 18

  CHAPTER 19

  CHAPTER 20

  CHAPTER 22

  CHAPTER 23

  CHAPTER 24

  CHAPTER 25

  CHAPTER 26

  CHAPTER 27

  CHAPTER 28

  EPILOGUE

  DEATH’S BRIGHT DAY – eARC

  David Drake

  Advance Reader Copy

  Unproofed

  Baen

  A NEW NOVEL IN THE NATIONALLY BEST-SELLING RCN MILITARY SF SERIES! Leary and Mundy are back in another military science fiction adventure as they undertake a mission to a distant but critical star system.

  IT'S JUST A REBELLION IN A DISTANT STAR CLUSTER.

  Captain Daniel Leary thinks that his marriage will allow him to slip into the quiet role of a naval officer in peacetime. His friend, the spy and cybrarian Adele Mundy, is content to be collating data in her library. But high officials of both superpowers are involved! Those who want Daniel and Adele to become involved in the Tarbell Stars claim that only they can prevent a war between the Republic of Cinnabar and its great rival, the Alliance of Free Stars. The conflict is political, but at the sharp end it means blazing warfare and cold-blooded murder. Daniel and Adele will be at the sharp end.

  The odds in ships and guns are badly in the enemy's favor. Daniel, Adele, and the crew of the Princess Cecile will do everything humanly possible, but that may not be enough against an enemy battleship. And even if Daniel and his companions succeed in battle, they can't be sure whether their employers really wanted them to win—or whether they even want them alive. All they can do is to race forward, hoping to come through into DEATH'S BRIGHT DAY.

  BAEN BOOKS by DAVID DRAKE

  The RCN Series

  With the Lightnings • Lt. Leary, Commanding • The Far Side of the Stars • The Way to Glory • Some Golden Harbor • When the Tide Rises • In the Stormy Red Sky • What Distant Deeps • The Road of Danger •

  The Sea Without a Shore • Death’s Bright Day

  Hammer’s Slammers

  The Tank Lords • Caught in the Crossfire • The Sharp End • The Complete Hammer’s Slammers, Vols 1–3

  Independent Novels and Collections

  All the Way to the Gallows • Cross the Stars • Foreign Legions, edited by David Drake • Grimmer Than Hell • Loose Cannon • Night & Demons • Northworld Trilogy • Patriots • The Reaches Trilogy • Redliners • Seas of Venus • Starliner

  Into the Hinterlands with John Lambshead

  The General Series

  Hope Reborn with S.M. Stirling (omnibus) • Hope Rearmed with S.M. Stirling (omnibus) • The Tyrant with Eric Flint • The Heretic with Tony Daniel • The Savior with Tony Daniel

  The Belisarius Series with Eric Flint

  An Oblique Approach • In the Heart of Darkness • Belisarius I: Thunder Before Dawn (omnibus) • Destiny’s Shield • Fortune’s Stroke • Belisarius II: Storm at Noontide (omnibus) • The Tide of Victory • The Dance of Time • Belisarius III: The Flames of Sunset (omnibus)

  Edited by David Drake

  The World Turned Upside Down with Jim Baen & Eric Flint

  To purchase these titles in e-book format, please go to www.baen.com

  DEATH’S BRIGHT DAY

  This is a work of fiction. All the characters and events portrayed in this book are fictional, and any resemblance to real people or incidents is purely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2016 by David Drake

  All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form.

  A Baen Books Original

  Baen Publishing Enterprises

  P.O. Box 1403

  Riverdale, NY 10471

  www.baen.com

  ISBN: 978-1-4767-8147-1

  Cover art by Stephen Hickman

  First printing, June 2016

  Distributed by Simon & Schuster

  1230 Avenue of the Americas

  New York, NY 10020

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  t/k

  10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

  Printed in the United States of America

  DEDICATION

  To Cecelia Holland, one of the two good things I found in Cambodia in 1970.

  (The other was Jane Austen)

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  Dan Breen continues as my first reader. I make mistakes. He catches as many as he can.

  Dan, Dorothy Day, and Karen Zimmerman, my webmaster, store my texts against a disaster which engulfs central North Carolina. (Well, if it gets all of central North Carolina, Dan is gone also. Which I would regret if I were around.)

  Karen and Evan Ladouceur provided continuity help when I asked for it. It’s probable that I should have asked more often than I did, but my focus is always on the story and I tend to ignore other stuff. I know that there are people to whom the continuity is very important and I apologize to them, but that just isn’t what I care about.

  John and Val Lambshead not only guided me to settings which I later used for scenes but also provided logistics support for the research. This became an acute problem when my business credit card was blocked (my fault) and could not be cleared while I was out of the US (very much the fault of the Bank of America).

  I had various computer adventures. (Actually, I’m having another one as I type this, but thus far it’s only affecting one of my notebooks.) My son Jonathan saved me each time, among other things by converting all the machines to Win10 and recreating the local area network (which didn’t survive the upgrade).

  (Come to think, one problem I fixed myself. After a week I realized that the cleaning lady had moved the wireless router to a place she thought was more attractive but which blocked the signal. During that week I used flash drives to transfer my data. I’m not very computer literate, but I’m very good at finding work-arounds.)

  My wife Jo keeps house (which I’m sure is frustrating, because she knows not to move stuff, and I’m messy when I’m working…which is most of what I do), and feeds me fresh food cooked in tasty fashion. I’m in good shape for a man of my age, which is as much due to the meals I’m fed as to my daily exercise.

  To them and to those whose help I’ve forgotten to mention, my sincere thanks.

  AUTHOR’S NOTE

  As always in this series, Cinnabar weights and measures are given in English units while those of the Alliance are metric. I use them merely to hint at the variation I expect would occur in a future in which humans have spread across the stars.

  Despite my saying this, I will probably get a note from someone telling me that the metric system is much better. For scientific purposes I agree, but logic isn’t going to rule our distant descendents any more than it does us. (And for weather information, Fahrenheit beats Celsius all hollow.)

  The historical incidents on which I based Death’s Bright Day come largely from the Greek world at the close of the 3rd century BC. The empire of Alexander the Great had broken into three parts within a few years of his death in 323 BC. Now the large fragments were shrinking or crumbling. There were new players—Sparta, the Kingdom of Pergamum, and, overwhelmingly, Rome—and a world of opportunists at the edges and in the spaces between.

  People at that time made s
hort-term decisions based on short-term urges, among which pride, greed, and envy were prominent. And also fear; fear was a big one.

  Perhaps this is the only way things ever happen in human societies. Current events seem to me to support that view. It’s a milieu which creates many backgrounds for action-adventure. (I used only a few of these. My original plot had nearly twice the number of incidents, some of them quite dramatic, but I trimmed it for length.)

  Speaking as a writer, this is a wonderful milieu. Viewing it as a member of humanity, though, I often wish that we were better as a species at taking a long view. The Greek world of 200 BC wasn’t a safe place for anyone or a happy place for most, and things very rapidly became worse.

  I would prefer that the reality my son and grandson will face were a better one, but my field is history. I don’t find much hope there.

  Dave Drake

  david-drake.com

  They have forgotten all that vanished away

  When life’s dark night died into death’s bright day

  —Alfred Noyes

  The Progress of Love, Canto III

  CHAPTER 1

  Xenos on Cinnabar

  Daniel Leary waited to board the rented tramcar which would carry him from the Pentacrest to Chatsworth Minor, the townhouse which had been his home in Xenos ever since he became friends with its owner, Lady Adele Mundy. He didn’t spend much time in Cinnabar’s capital city—or anywhere on his home planet, for that matter—but it was good for his state of mind to know that there was a comfortable, convenient burrow whenever he needed it.

  Because of the crowd noise he bent slightly toward Miranda, his bride of approximately five minutes, and said into her ear, “I don’t believe I’ve ever seen a car this fancy. What isn’t wood inlays—” he recognized the tigerwood, but some of the exotics were beyond even his naturalist’s eye “—is gilt.”

  He pursed his lips and corrected himself: “Or possibly solid gold, I suppose.”

  Miranda hugged herself even closer without turning toward Daniel. “I’ve never been so happy,” she said. “I’ve never dreamed of being so happy.”

  She turned then and kissed him, which made the crowd cheer even louder; try to cheer louder, at any rate. “I’ll try not to disappoint you, love,” said Daniel. Or disappoint myself or the Republic of Cinnabar Navy or Adele or the crew of whatever ship I command at the moment. Or anyone else I care about.

  Which included the Republic itself, he supposed, though Daniel didn’t often think in political terms. The Learys had been involved in Cinnabar politics from before the thousand year Hiatus in interstellar travel, if the family records were to be believed. Daniel had always been drawn toward the stars instead, and any urge he might have had toward a political career had ended when he was 16 and had broken violently with Corder Leary—Speaker Leary; one of the Republic’s most powerful politicians, and Daniel’s father.

  “The car doesn’t have the Bantry crest,” said Mon, his best man, splendid in his dress uniform. For years Mon—though still a half-pay lieutenant in the RCN—had been managing the Bergen and Associates shipyard for Daniel, who had inherited a half interest from his Uncle Stacey. “We could have knocked out the three fishes for you in the yard, easy enough.”

  Mon grinned. “In gold, if you like. A gift from me and the crew.”

  Not only had Daniel given Mon a 10% stake in the shipyard but also a free hand in hiring his personnel. Most of them were ex-RCN, and many had lost limbs in the service. There wasn’t another yard on Cinnabar which could match the staff of Bergen and Associates for skill or loyalty, and Mon had become very wealthy on his share.

  Uncle Stacey’s silent partner—and now Daniel’s—was Corder Leary. The elder Leary earned the most from the yard, but for him that income was too small for notice.

  “I directed that the car not carry any crest,” Daniel said mildly. “We’re going to Chatsworth Minor now, after all. When we have a second ceremony at Bantry, there’ll be plenty of fish present. A few of them will be symbolic, I suppose, but I suspect that my tenants will be more interested in the wedding banquet.” And the wedding ale, of course.

  Adele, Lady Mundy, had boarded the lead car of the procession with her bodyguard Tovera and with Miriam Dorst, Miranda’s mother. No one else had gotten on, and the usher stationed at the door had turned several would-be riders away. Something was going on, which made Daniel uncomfortable; but he would learn about it in good time.

  He liked his new mother-in-law and got along well with her; as for Adele—Daniel had no closer friend. Whatever Adele was doing was for his benefit, or at worst not to his detriment…but he liked to know what was going on, and he didn’t this time.

  Daniel glanced toward the line of trams waiting behind his own. It was a very long procession.

  As though Miranda were reading his mind, she said, “How many cars are there, Deirdre?”

  Her maid of honor, Daniel’s sister, shrugged. “I told the transit authorities to be sure there were enough to carry all those attending the ceremony to the reception,” she said. “Only the first forty will be new, but I’m confident that there will be a sufficient number. Service in the suburbs may be delayed, but—”

  She smiled, though there was very little humor in the expression.

  “—after all, how often does a daughter of the late Captain Timothy Dorst get married?”

  The four of them laughed, Miranda as brightly as ever. “Only once, I expect. And since I don’t have a sister, I suppose our neighbors in the suburbs can accept the delays for one afternoon.”

  Daniel realized that his sister had been testing Miranda to see how she reacted to what was at best black humor. Captain Dorst had been a respected RCN officer who had died of a stroke not long after his last promotion. Perhaps if he had lived longer he would have plodded his way to admiral rank and modest wealth; as it was, his widow and children had a social position without enough money to sustain it.

  The son, also Timothy, became an midshipman in the RCN and served under Captain Leary. Midshipman Dorst was a model of a fighting officer: brave, active, and as thick as a brick. He was also unlucky: his cutter had taken a direct hit from a 20-cm plasma cannon which would have vaporized most of a corvette.

  Timothy’s bad luck had turned out to be very good luck for his mother and sister, because his former commanding officer had visited them to convey his personal regrets. Meeting Miranda Dorst had been good luck for Daniel Leary, also.

  He hugged Miranda closer without looking at her.

  “Looks like they got ’em loaded,” Mon said, giving the crowd a practiced eye. He added with a grin, “Though nobody’s going anywhere till you’re ready to start, of course.”

  Deirdre—or more likely, one of the businesses which she controlled—had provided the ushers who were loading the trams, but Lieutenant Cory and three long-service warrant officers were overseeing the work. Some of the spacers who had attended the wedding of Captain Leary were too ragged to pass the scrutiny of a doorman borrowed from the Shippers’ and Merchants Treasury, but if they’d served with Six—Daniel’s call-sign aboard the Princess Cecile—there’d be places in the wedding for them.

  Perhaps thinking the same thing, Deirdre said, “Daniel, how do you know that some of those spacers claiming to have served with you aren’t just bums looking for a free drink? Not that I care, of course.”

  “You can’t fool a veteran, Deirdre,” Daniel said. He felt suddenly saddened. “I don’t remember the name of every tech who’s served under me and I doubt my engineering warrant officers do either, but the phonies are all heroes. They don’t say, “I was an engine wiper on the Milton and I haven’t shipped again since that missile took everything off from three frames astern of the power room.”

  Thirty-three of his crew had died that day. Daniel didn’t remember anything after the impact, because flying debris had knocked him silly. If the jump-seat had struck an inch lower, it would have broken his neck and there would have been th
irty-four dead.

  And I wouldn’t have gotten married today, which I would regret. He squeezed Miranda’s fingers and said aloud, “I think we can board now. If board is the correct word for a tram?”

  Daniel handed his bride into the car. Mon offered Deirdre his arm. She accepted it with a bemused look. Deirdre was used to toadies, but meeting a gentleman was probably a new experience for her. The RCN was old-school in many ways, which Daniel—grinning—thought was just as it ought to be.

  Daniel also wore a 1st Class uniform, his Dress Whites. He was far more splendid than Mon, however. Daniel’s rig included flashy foreign honors which he would have been embarrassed to wear in a strictly RCN gathering. Deirdre touched the scarlet and gold sash over his left shoulder and said, “What in the world is this, brother?”

  “That indicates I’m a Royal Companion of Novy Sverdlovsk,” he said. “I have the right to wear a scimitar in the presence of the monarch.”

  “Do you have a scimitar?” Mon asked.

  “I’m sure Hogg could find him one if Daniel ever visits Novy Sverdlovsk,” Miranda said primly.

  “Speaking of Hogg—” said Deirdre.