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  DAVE BARA’S

  THE LIGHTSHIP CHRONICLES

  IMPULSE

  STARBOUND

  DEFIANT

  Copyright © 2017 by Dave Bara.

  All Rights Reserved.

  Jacket art by Stephan Martiniere.

  Jacket design by G-Force Design.

  Book designed by Alissa Theodor.

  DAW Book Collectors No. 1743.

  Published by DAW Books, Inc.

  375 Hudson Street, New York, NY 10014.

  All characters and events in this book are fictitious.

  Any resemblance to persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.

  The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal, and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage the electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

  Ebook ISBN: 9780698161702

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  Version_1

  CONTENTS

  Novels by Dave Bara

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Author's Note

  Map

  Prologue

  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 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Dénouement

  AUTHOR’S NOTE

  This book represents the end of a trilogy. Four years ago when I signed the contract for The Lightship Chronicles series with DAW Books, I had no idea what a fun ride I was in for.

  Working with my (Hugo Award winning!) editor Sheila Gilbert and DAW’s co-publisher Betsy Wollheim has been the best experience of my life. Whatever comes next, more books in this series or something else, this has been the experience of a lifetime for me. I hope every aspiring author out there gets the chance to work with people as great as I have been blessed to work with. Being with DAW has been like being part of a family, and I will be forever grateful for that.

  There are simply too many people to thank for getting Impulse, Starbound, and Defiant into print, but I’d like to mention a few in particular. Joshua Bilmes and everyone at JABberwocky Literary; Michael Rowley, who was my editor at Random House UK; Joshua Starr, who turned my books into something printable at DAW, and all the people who have helped with promotion and publicity. I hope we all have great success in the future.

  To the struggling writer out there still trying to break through, I wish you good luck, great timing, and finding people who believe in your work. It’s the best feeling in the world to have a family like I have had behind me.

  Here’s to future adventures.

  Dave Bara

  September 2016

  Prologue—On Carinthia

  Six Weeks After the Attack

  I held my wife’s hand tightly. It was small inside my own, and I was glad of that. I wanted her to feel protected, cared for, and even loved in these difficult moments, and any gesture toward that end was to the good as far as I was concerned. Lady Karina Feilberg, Princess of Carinthia, was holding vigil, as we all were, waiting for her father to die.

  Grand Duke Henrik had faded fast after the attack on his home world. Within weeks he had taken ill, then was confined to his bed, in and out of consciousness. As I watched him now from across the bedroom he had shared with his wife for so many years, he seemed peaceful but not altogether content. There were still signs of the struggle of life, of unfinished business. He was a stubborn man, and he would go when he damned well pleased; that much was clear. But go he would.

  The Earthmen had offered some of their miracle technology to keep him going for months more—perhaps even a year—but he had refused in one of his clearer moments of lucidity. I couldn’t blame him. His wife was gone. His first son had betrayed him and their world, bringing down a devastating atomic attack on Carinthia. He would likely never see that event avenged, but I had vowed in my own heart to bring about justice for him, the man who had become my father-in-law, if I was given the opportunity by the universe.

  But for now it was enough just to hold my wife’s hand and let her know I was here for her if she needed me.

  The bedroom curtains were open, and the late winter sun of Carinthia’s star, Zeta Herculis, shined yellow-gold light into the room. That light nearly reached the elaborate medical bed that tended to the grand duke, mostly with automated protocols. A web of tubes and wires moved about his body as if alive, monitoring and taking readings, then applying treatments as necessary. Two doctors were always present, and at least six other technicians monitored his condition minute by minute from medical display stations spread throughout the spacious room, often consulting quietly amongst themselves.

  Karina and I sat together on a large sofa in the middle of the room. It felt odd, us being there, just stuck in the room while everything happened around us. But it had been this way for two full days now. Karina had only rested when I insisted upon it or when her brother Benn was there to keep watch over her father for her. She knew Benn would inform her of any sudden change in the grand duke’s condition.

  In some ways I envied Benn. He was busy running the government, trying to coordinate the massive effort of all the Union worlds to aid Carinthia in her recovery. It was going much faster and better than expected, but there was still a long, hard slog to go, no doubt of that. But at least he had the distraction. Karina had none of that and wouldn’t leave her father’s side in any case.

  As for me, I could only say that the vigil was a way to avoid my own problems. I’d had many since the Battle of Pendax. Nightmares, sudden anxiety, even depression, not wanting to face the day. Karina had helped me through much of that in the weeks after the attack, as had the Green Court’s doctors, but there was no panacea. I had wiped out over thirty thousand human lives defending the Union. That would take a toll on anyone.

  But now I had to think of Karina and her fear of losing her father and facing the grief of his inevitable passing. I focused all of my energy on supporting her, and through all of this, support her I would. “For better or for worse” is what the Vicar of KendalFalk had said on the night we were married. This time on Carinthia was undoubtedly the worse, and I wondered if the better times would ever come.

  The double doors to the duke’s bedroom opened suddenly, and Prince Benn came through, trailed by a small entourage of uniformed advisors. He came directly to Karina. She and I rose from the sofa to greet him.

  “Has he said anything more?” asked Benn.

  “No,” replied Karina, shaking her head. “Just the one request for you to come.”

  Benn nodded and then went to his father’s bedside, the doctors parting to let him pass. Karina let go of my hand and followed, standing on the opposite side of the bed from her brother. I held back, waiting for confirmation regarding what I should do. Respect for
the family in these times was critical, and I was extended family only, not blood.

  I looked at Benn and realized I didn’t really like him much. I felt he had made mistakes, or at least different choices than I would have made, leading up to the attack on Carinthia. He had always held me at a distance, even after my marriage to Karina. I didn’t mind. I still respected him and his position in the family as the prince regent. My loyalty was to my wife and went further only minimally. These were difficult times for us all.

  Karina touched her father’s arm to rouse him. He rolled around a bit, then opened his eyes.

  “I’m here, Father,” said Benn in German. My ear com translator worked so fast that it was almost seamless. I “heard” the words in German, but my mind comprehended them in Standard English.

  The grand duke opened his eyes and looked first at his son, then at his daughter.

  “Out with them,” he said, waving his arm. “All of them . . . out.” I assumed he meant the doctors. They all put their equipment in automated mode and shuffled out slowly. The automated medical monitor tried to adjust things according to the readings it was receiving, but the duke demanded that it be shut down as well. Benn nodded to the primary doctor, who put the device in standby mode, then exited the room. I turned to follow him out, assuming the duke wanted a few last moments with his children.

  “Not you, Peter,” he said weakly, and in Standard. “You are family now. . . .” He coughed harshly. “You stay.”

  I made my way to Karina’s side. Benn didn’t look happy at this turn of events, but there wasn’t anything I could do about that. It was the grand duke’s choice. He looked to his second son.

  “Benn, my steady and reliable hand. When I am gone, go to the family records hall. Retrieve the family codex.” He spoke haltingly, then had a coughing fit that set off numerous medical alarms, but the automated monitor stayed in standby mode. When he recovered, he continued.

  “Pull the cylinder on Arin. In there you will find all the proof you need to rule fully in my name.” The cough came again, and Karina comforted him until it passed. Benn and Karina exchanged looks of confusion.

  “I don’t understand,” said Benn. The grand duke nodded.

  “You will. Arin . . . Arin . . . was . . . never my son. Your mother was already pregnant with him . . .” He coughed again. “. . . .n the day we were married.”

  “What?” said Karina, shocked. The duke waved her off. I moved closer to her for support.

  “It was not your mother’s doing, Karina. Her honor was intact. Someone—we don’t know who—doctors . . . someone . . . they insem . . . insem . . . inseminated her artificially . . .” Again the coughing came, but less this time. “It wasn’t her fault.” His eyes closed then; he was fading, his physical strength to fight waning along with his will. Karina touched his forehead gently, and he opened his eyes again.

  “I am so glad you are my daughter,” he said to her with a weak smile. “You are so smart, so beautiful, so loving . . . like your mother . . .” Tears came to her eyes immediately. “Keep Benn here honest. Don’t let him become too much the politician.”

  “I won’t. I promise,” Karina said, looking across to her brother with tears in her eyes. The duke’s eyes started to close again, then he opened them one last time and looked directly at me.

  “Peter . . .” I swallowed hard at the unexpected sound of my name.

  “Yes, Sire?” I said, my voice cracking as I fought back my own tears. I took a step closer to the bed.

  “Lightship Captain . . .” His eyes started to close again.

  “Sire—”

  “Find Arin . . . Find him, and . . . kill him. He was never . . . our blood.” He said the final words with surprising strength. I wasn’t prepared for that.

  “Yes, Sire,” I said softly. “I promise.”

  Then he closed his eyes and said to Karina, “Keep those doctors out of here. I want to die in peace.”

  She did as he asked, locking the doors to the bedroom herself. The three of us sat together on the sofa, none of us saying a word, and waited.

  An hour later he was gone, both of his children holding his hands as he passed. Karina went back to the sofa, sobbing. Benn was stoic but much more physically supportive of Karina than I expected. They shared close hugs and quiet words, as a brother and sister should. I stayed out of the way. Benn left to make arrangements, or more likely to set plans in motion that had already been prepared. Karina stayed an hour longer with her father, then signaled me that it was time to go. I took her by the hand again, and we walked slowly back to our apartment.

  And in my mind I was focused on only one thing: carrying out the grand duke’s last command to me.

  At Candle Aboard

  H.M.S. Defiant

  Six Months Later

  I circled the fencing cage as I had many times before, my sword extended in a defensive position. My opponent circled as well, looking for an opening. We tapped swords numerous times, her taking my measure with each parry and riposte. We danced like this for several seconds, back and forth, my thrust followed by her parry. The game was tenuous for her. I had her down 2–0. Another victory and I would win the match.

  She made an awkward lunge at me, and I countered her thrust, then reached out and grabbed her sword hand by the wrist. She tried to do the same to me, but I held her off, my superior size and strength being more than a match for her. I had her now, and the only question was how I was going to finish it. I swung her around and then pulled her toward me, rolling her over my thigh and then dropping her to the mat. Gently, I hoped. I whipped my foil into her rib cage, and the scoring bell sounded.

  Game, set, match.

  She dropped her foil and exhaled deeply, then pulled her mask from her face and looked up at me.

  “I’m never going to get this,” she said.

  “Nonsense,” I replied, doffing my own mask and then reaching down and grabbing her hand, pulling her up from the mat with a firm tug on the arm. “It took a while, but I finally got the hang of it.”

  “As I recall,” she said, wiping sweat off of her forehead with her sleeve, “you never beat Captain Kierkopf, and I have never beaten you.”

  I smiled down at my wife of half a year, Karina Feilberg, Princess of Carinthia, Countess of New Queensland, fencing rival. Though it was hard to call her a rival. We had been at this almost six months, and she’d never really come close to beating me. It wasn’t her fault. Dobrina Kierkopf was an excellent athlete, Karina far less so. She was small and petite and no master with a foil for sure, nor would she likely ever be, but she humored me on the mat. I liked to think she made up for her wants as a swordsman with other more favorable attributes.

  She reached up and wrapped her arms around my neck. I was a bit over six feet one, she almost a foot shorter. She went to her tiptoes, then kissed me. It was a wet and sweaty embrace, but not altogether unpleasant. As I said, she had her favorable attributes. Still, I wasn’t much for public displays of affection on the ship I commanded, H.M.S. Defiant. After all, I was the captain, and married or not, we couldn’t be seen “eating bread in front of the poor people,” as she liked to say. Not a good example.

  “I’m heading back to the stateroom to shower. Will you be joining me?” she asked impishly. It was an advantage to have your wife aboard ship, no doubt, especially one as enticing as I often found Karina. But I had business to attend to first.

  “Regrettably, madam, I will have to pass. All captains staff at 0830 in Maclintock’s office. I’ll just catch a shower in the men’s locker room.”

  “Are you sure you can’t be a bit late for that? It is a Saturday, after all,” she said. Now it was my turn to smile. We had both found solace in each other’s arms the last six months in the aftermath of the attack on Carinthia and the death of her father, Grand Duke Henrik. We were learning to love each other, and it was a good thi
ng for both of us.

  “Duty calls, madam,” I said, “and it sounded like serious business.” Which I was sure it was. I looked around the gym quickly to make sure we were alone, then gave her a another light kiss on the lips. Again I got the impish smile.

  “Your loss, Captain, sir,” she said.

  “May I remind you, Lieutenant, that I am captain of this vessel and you are merely my astrogator and a junior officer. I can order you to do what I want at any time,” I said.

  “Oh, you can,” she acknowledged. “But there are certain orders a wife can refuse that a junior officer never could.” With that she swatted my butt, picked up her mask and foil, and made for the ladies’ locker room. I watched her go and smiled again, counting myself lucky. She turned back to me at the locker room door and gave me that smile one more time. I laughed, hoping that the staff meeting would be over with quickly so I could get back home to where I really wanted to be, with her.

  Thirty minutes later I crossed the glass umbilical corridor that would take me from Defiant to High Station Candle proper. I had a great deal of trepidation about the staff meeting I was about to attend: an “all hands,” which meant all Lightship captains plus Admiral Wesley. No doubt something was up, something big.

  A small group of techs was setting up the longwave connection to the Historians’ ansible network when I entered the conference room. This would allow the Lightship captains to link up and converse with their fleet commodore and Admiral Wesley in real time. It wasn’t a technology I understood, provided by the Historians of Earth, of course, but I knew how to use it, and being able to communicate across many light-years instantaneously gave us a great advantage.

  I was the only captain in attendance in the conference room, as both Maclintock’s ship, Starbound, and mine, Defiant, were docked here at Candle in our home system of Quantar. The other captains were spread out far and wide across Union Space, a bubble about forty-eight light-years across, centered around Sol, which the Union Navy had declared they would defend as home space. There were only about sixty G-type spectral stars, humanity’s preferred type for colonization, within that bubble. Of those systems, only a few had been colonized in the early days of Imperial growth, since many had no planets with the right climate conditions and atmosphere. We knew of nineteen historical colonies and a handful of industrial bases within that bubble, and our Union, at the moment, represented only five.