To Hell's Heart (Crimson Worlds)

by Allan, Jay

  Cain’s expression betrayed serious doubts, but he’d never refused General Holm before, and he wasn’t about to start now. “Yes, sir.” He sighed softly. “I’ll do it. You can count on me.”

  “I knew that before I walked in here, Erik.” Holm smiled warmly. “I’ve known it for years.”

  Cain returned the smile. And you’ve been using it for years, too, he thought, mildly amused, just as I do with those I command…I guess we all manipulate each other to get the job done, even our friends. “I’ll need carte blanche on logistics. We’re still struggling to re-equip from the Line battles, and if we’re going to launch an invasion, we’re going to need even more supply.”

  “You have it.” Holm cleared his throat. “The Earth governments are scared to death…they’ll supply anything at all if it’s humanly possible to do it.” A brief pause. “What do you want most? Besides basic ordnance and supplies, I mean. More Obliterators?”

  Cain thought for a few seconds before answering. “Aside from plenty of nukes, yes. More Obliterators.” He paused a few seconds and added, “I’d take some tanks too, especially now that Isaac Merrick’s figured out how to put them to really good use.” He hesitated again, more briefly this time. “Though I doubt we’ll be able to pack many MBTs on an invasion fleet.”

  Holm nodded. “Yes, you certainly made heavy use of your nuclear ordnance. I haven’t checked, but I suspect you used more nuclear weapons than any commander in history…including during the Unification Wars.”

  “Escalation is in our favor, especially on the ground.” There was a touch of defensiveness in Cain’s voice. “Their conventional ordnance is superior to ours, but nukes are nukes. It’s an equalizing factor.”

  “Relax, Erik.” Holm was trying hard to suppress a laugh. “You crushed the enemy down there. No one’s questioning your tactics.” Holm was still trying to hide his amusement, not terribly successfully. “Let an old general have his fun once in a while.”

  Cain smiled weakly. “Sorry, sir.” He’d been sensitive about the number of nuclear weapons his forces had used. The combatants on Sandoval had taken a virtual paradise and reduced it to a radioactive hell. Cain couldn’t even imagine the long-term effects on the weather or how many decades – centuries? – it would be before the planet was a fit place to live again. Over a million people had called Sandoval home. They’d lived there, worked there, raised children there. Now they were refugees who’d lost everything. Homes, businesses, jobs. Cain thought mostly of his Marines, the thousands dead and wounded. But he knew the civilians paid a price too.

  “And you’re right…we’re not going to be shipping many MBTs beyond the Rim. The Obliterators are a different story though. They give us more firepower per ton than the tanks do…by a multiple of four or five.”

  “I’ll take as many as I can get, sir. General Sparks told me he thought he could have at least 3,000 ready to go before we can leave.” Cain paused then added, “And I’d like to put Erin McDaniels in command of the whole group. I know it’s a big bump for her, but no one has more experience with the Obliterators.”

  “I wouldn’t have it any other way, Erik.” He was nodding as he spoke. “That’s a brigadier’s billet as least.” He paused, thinking. “I’ll approve the promotion before I leave. But you’ll be able to sign off on any commissions while I’m gone. Do whatever you think makes sense.”

  “Thank you, sir.” Cain’s expression changed, a mask of worry creeping onto his face. “Do you think you’ll be able to handle the Earth governments, sir?” He sighed. “Because the only way we’re going to win this war is to attack.”

  Holm inhaled deeply as Cain finished. “I really don’t know, Erik.” He knew Erik tended to be overly aggressive, always preferring to attack rather than defend. But in this instance, Holm agreed completely. God only knew how vast the First Imperium was…how much force it could deploy given time. They’d beaten back one invasion; that was true. But the next one could be ten times the size…a hundred times. “They’re scared to death back on Earth, and they aren’t used to listening to us.”

  Cain turned back toward the observation portal, his expression grim. He was silent, but Holm knew what he was thinking. No one trusted the Earth governments less than Erik Cain.

  “Erik…” Holm put his hand on Cain’s shoulder again. “…I need you to move full bore getting ready for this invasion.” His eyes locked on the younger man’s. “Because Garret and Ali Khaled and I already agreed…” He paused, and his voice became a whisper. “…we’re going to do our best to convince the Earth governments to go along. But we’re going to invade anyway, with whatever resources we can muster on our own. If the Earth authorities don’t like it…” He smiled grimly. “…they can go fuck themselves.”

  Chapter 2

  AS Indianapolis

  HD 80606 VII System

  Orbiting Planet Adelaide

  Michael Jacobs sat, uncomfortably fidgeting in the command chair on Indianapolis’ flag bridge despite his determined efforts to remain still. He was nervous, wondering – dreading - what he’d find on Adelaide. He’d been forced to bypass the planet when he led Hornet and her exhausted crew as they’d run their torturous gauntlet home. He knew he didn’t have any choice then, but that provided cold comfort. Jacobs and his people had been carrying crucial intel, and getting it safely back to Admiral Garret was more important than checking on a small band of survivors. It was cold reasoning, but it was sound. Millions of lives…billions…hinged on defeating the First Imperium. Mankind was fighting a war against extinction. There was no room for sentiment…for humanity. But Jacobs still felt like a monster for passing by without so much as trying to contact Cooper Brown and his people.

  “Orbit stable, Admiral Jacobs.”

  Jacobs still wasn’t used to being called admiral. He’d been shocked when Admiral Garret gave him his star on the spot, and then again when the Supreme Commander followed up the promotion with the command of the newly-formed Scouting Fleet. The whole thing still felt surreal, and Jacobs was trying very hard not to let anyone see how overwhelmed he was. “Very well, Commander Carp.” Jacobs suspected Carp was just as uncomfortable with the shiny new lieutenant commander’s insignia on his own collar. O-1 to O-4 was a big jump, especially for a young officer three years out of the Academy. “Any response from the surface?”

  “Negative, admiral.” Carp’s voice was somber. He’d been there too when Hornet had left the survivors on Adelaide to scout deep into enemy space. He’d still been at his post when the battered vessel dashed back through the system without so much as scanning the planet’s surface. He hoped…wished against all odds…that they’d survived somehow, though his rational mind told him it was impossible. That was true for us too, he thought defiantly, recalling Hornet’s improbable journey home. And we made it. Maybe Brown and his people did too. But the com was still clear…ominously, depressingly silent. If anyone on Adelaide was getting his transmissions, they weren’t answering.

  Jacobs shifted, looking behind him, ducking for the hundredth time to avoid the conduit that wasn’t there. He was still getting used to the amount of space on Indianapolis. No space ship was truly roomy, but to a veteran of the attack ships, a heavy cruiser seemed to offer wide open spaces. “Lieutenant Hooper, updated system scan?”

  “All scanners and scouts report negative, sir.” Hooper’s voice was sharp, precise. “No activity.”

  Juliette Hooper was one of Jacobs’ new people. She was smart, that much he’d noticed immediately. Third in her Academy class, her record had been spotless to date. He liked her, both personally and as a member of his staff, but she worried him too. She was too intense, a tightly wound perfectionist with unrelenting focus. He wondered how she would handle the first situation she couldn’t control. It hadn’t happened to her yet, but it was only a matter of time…especially with Scouting Fleet heading into First Imperium-controlled space.

  “Keep me posted on any changes, lieutenant.” He turned from Hooper
back toward Carp. “Commander, advise Colonel Winters to have one of his platoons report to me in the shuttle bay in fifteen minutes.”

  Carp hesitated for a few seconds before answering. “Yes, sir.” His voice was tentative, concerned. He paused again before finally turning toward his workstation and relaying the order. “Colonel Winters acknowledges, sir.” A short silence. “Admiral, are you sure it’s wise for you to go down to the surface? You are in command of the entire fleet. I can go if you…”

  Jacobs put up his hand, waving off Carp’s argument. The young officer was right, and he knew it. Jacobs had no place in the landing party. It was an unacceptable risk, one that offered little tangible reward. But Jacobs didn’t care. “I’m going.” He paused before adding, “It’s something I have to do, commander.”

  Carp looked unconvinced, but he understood. It had been hard for Jacobs to pass through the system without even checking to see if anyone was still alive. Duty had left him no choice, but that didn’t ease the guilt. Carp felt it himself, though he knew it was worse for Jacobs, who’d been the one in command. Still, he found that he, too, wished he could go to the surface.

  Jacobs knew Carp understood…and also that he still didn’t think the admiral should leave the flagship. But there wasn’t going to be any debate on this. It was just something Jacobs felt compelled to see to himself, and he was the only one who got a vote. He had to find out what happened to those people, to his friend Cooper Brown, and he owed it to them to do it in person.

  “Advise Captain Cavendish that he is acting commander of the fleet while I am on the surface.” Cavendish was the commander of the fleet’s cruisers, and Jacobs’ exec. With the demands from the rapidly coalescing Grand Fleet, Jacob’s force was seriously short of command staff, and he was the only flag officer present.

  “Yes, admiral.”

  “And commander?”

  “Yes, sir?”

  “Keep an eye on things for me.” Cavendish was second in the chain of command, but he was new to Jacobs, and Carp had been to hell and back with him. This posting was likely to be a hard one…Scouting Fleet was going deep into enemy space, and no one knew what they would face. Jacobs knew Carp understood…he understood because they’d lived it together already. And he’d seen Carp operating under pressure.

  “Yes, sir.” Carp’s answer was sharp and reassuring. He knew what Jacobs was thinking, that much was obvious. “You can count on me, admiral.”

  “We’re getting an intermittent scanner contact, admiral.” Colonel Winters’ voice was firm and crisp on the comlink. Jacobs had expected a lieutenant to lead the escort party, but when the fleet’s Marine commander heard that the admiral was going to the surface he insisted on coming along to direct security personally.

  Jacobs twisted his body, squeezing his way out of the narrow hatch and onto the surface of Adelaide. Winters had asked him to remain behind while his Marines set up a perimeter, but his patience was proving limited. Michael Jacobs wasn’t the sort to stay behind while others did the work…even when they had powered armor and he just had a navy survival suit.

  “Deploy around the contact location, and investigate.” Jacobs felt a wave of excitement…and concern. They could be detecting energy output from surviving colonists – or a scanning device left behind by First Imperium forces. Dozens of ships had passed through the system when the enemy retreated from the Line. Even if Brown’s people had survived, any one of those vessels could have found his refugees.

  “Yes, sir.” Winters paused. “Admiral, I repeat my suggestion that you remain in the shuttle.” His scanner displayed the locations of all personnel, including the blue blip that represented Admiral Jacobs moving toward his position.

  “Negative, colonel.” Jacobs had done all the sitting he was going to do. “I’m en route to your location now.”

  Jacobs’ tone hadn’t left much room for argument, but Winters tried one last time anyway. “Sir, I’m responsible for your security. I must ask ag…”

  “Colonel, I am quite capable of taking care of myself.” Not really true, he acknowledged to himself. Any one of Winters’ Marines was far more prepared to deal with a hostile surface contact than he was. “I assure you I won’t hold you responsible if I am killed or injured.” Jacobs immediately wished he could rephrase that. Winters was only trying to do his job.

  “Yes, admiral.” The Marine’s response was sharp and professional. He’d taken the unintended rebuff in stride. Winters was a veteran who’d served in more than one tight spot, including under Erik Cain on the Lysandra Plateau. He knew how to take orders, even ones he didn’t like.

  Jacobs walked slowly, looking around for the egress points from the underground shelters. He knew were right around him, but he didn’t have exact coordinates. Hornet had purged all information on Adelaide before she set out for deep space. There was no way to know what data the enemy might have been able to extract from her shattered systems and broken hull if things had gone badly. Now Jacobs was going by memory…and a lot had happened since he’d last set foot on Adelaide.

  He could see four blips approaching on the tactical display. He was startled for an instant until he realized they were Marines. He suppressed a small laugh. Winters couldn’t make him stay in the shuttle, but he was well within his authority to assign bodyguards. Jacobs had the momentary urge to inform the good colonel that he did not need babysitters, but he stopped himself. He couldn’t fault the Marine officer for doing his duty. And, he figured, it was probably a good idea.

  Jacobs was moving slowly toward the last reported scanner contact. He was excited to pick up anything at all. He’d been prepared to find a completely dead planet…no life signs, no energy levels. They were still a long way from finding anyone alive, though. Most likely they were picking up some damaged piece of equipment that was still marginally functional.

  The four Marines moved to his side and stood rigidly at attention. Jacobs turned his head toward the leader. “Hello, sergeant. Escorting me around?”

  “Sergeant Harold Warne, sir.” The Marine’s voice was loud and sharp…parade ground perfect. “We have been assigned as your protective detail, sir.”

  Jacobs couldn’t help but be impressed by the precision and professionalism of the Marines. He had nothing but veterans assigned to Scouting Fleet, hand-picked by General Holm himself. Most of them had served all the way back to the Third Frontier War, before the rebellions…and before the demands of the recent crisis had caused a degradation in Marine training and efficiency. These men and women were the real thing.

  Holm hadn’t given him a group from his dwindling pool of veterans for nothing. Jacobs’ ships were going into deep space, into enemy territory, and they were doing it alone. Grand Fleet would come later, assuming it came at all. There were political issues to face before the invasion could launch, and Jacobs was far from certain those obstacles could be overcome. Scouting Fleet would have to be ready to face anything with no idea when support would arrive. He needed the best and brightest at every position, and he was pretty sure he had it.

  “Very well, sergeant.” Jacobs decided to go along with Winters’ idea of necessary security. He was an admiral now, and he’d have to start thinking like one. Admiral Garret would have had a stroke if he knew Jacobs had even come down to the surface. When you are fifty lightyears from your replacement, there is no place for heroics by the commander. Sooner or later, even real heroes learned that lesson.

  “Bogies!” The call came over the comlink. Jacobs’ suit didn’t have the extended tactical display the Marine armor had, and he couldn’t see who was issuing the warning. “Armed personnel exfiltrating at coordinates 340/029.”

  There was chatter all over the field. Jacobs had total com access, so he heard everything. The Marines had battlefield AIs filtering the confused chatter, prioritizing data as it came in. But Jacobs just heard a swirling mass of voices shouting out barely intelligible (to him) battlefield commands.

  “Attention all units…�
� It was Winters, his voice roaring above the others, a model of authoritative command. “…no one fires without authorization from me. These may be friendlies, and if they are, they’ve been through a lot. The last thing they need is their own Marines firing on them. So keep cool…or your ass is mine.”

  Jacobs was impressed at Winters’ instantaneous grasp of the situation…and slightly intimidated by the colonel’s cold, confident orders. He realized he had a lot to discover about command, and not a lot of time to do it. You can learn from this man, he thought. Jacobs had been acclaimed a hero for leading his ship back from enemy space, but that was one incident, driven by self-preservation, he reminded himself. Winters has been leading men and women on battlefields for 20 years.

  He quickened his pace, moving toward the reported location. He felt his stomach churning, his legs tingling. Excitement, fear, anticipation. Were they about to encounter an enemy garrison? Or colonists still alive against all the odds?

  A staticky voice crackled on the comlink. “Identify yourselves.” The connection was bad; there was something wrong with the broadcaster’s transmitter. But there was something vaguely familiar to Jacobs. He knew that voice.

  “Cooper?” Jacobs spoke loudly and clearly, interrupting Winters, who had begun his own response. “Cooper Brown…is that you?”

  There was a pause, no more than a few seconds, really. But to Jacobs it was an eternity.

  “Mike?” The voice was still broken up, but Jacobs could hear the emotion. It was Brown. There wasn’t a doubt in his mind. “Captain Jacobs? Is that really you?”

  Jacobs sat on the makeshift bench, really an old shipping crate modified for the purpose. He’d popped his helmet and set it down alongside the table. He almost wretched when he got his first breath of the air in the shelter, but he hid his reaction the best he could. The atmosphere was fetid, a combination of sulfur, burning hydrocarbons, and the smell of too many people living in too little space.