by Jay Allan
“Darius…” The voice came from behind him, and he recognized it immediately.
“Yes, mother,” he said, turning to face her. “What can I do for you?” He figured she was there to follow up on Teller’s argument, to urge him to stay in headquarters rather than drop right on top of the enemy’s main fortress. But she surprised him.
“I need you to tell your chief surgeon that I’m landing with the medical services.”
He paused for a moment, just staring back at her. “No,” he finally said. “Absolutely not.”
“Darius,” she said, her voice as firm and cold as his own, “I’ve been patching Marines and other soldiers together for more than fifty years. I’d wager I’ve made more combat drops than you or any other veteran you’ve got, so don’t tell me I can’t do my job.” She paused and glared at him with an intensity that revealed he hadn’t gotten all of his stubbornness and will from his father. “Because going down with the med teams is my second choice, and it’s taking all I have to stand back and let you go after your father without me.”
Her voice cracked slightly, but she maintained her gaze. “I haven’t been a combat Marine for a long time…and I know I’ll just distract you. And that will only get you killed…or your father, if he is really down there. But if you think I’m going to wait up here while thousands of soldiers are fighting to free Erik, you’re crazy.”
He opened his mouth to argue, but he closed it again. He realized she was right. She was his mother, and beyond that he carried a lot of guilt about how things had gone after his father’s disappearance. But she was a Marine, and by all accounts, the best trauma surgeon in Occupied Space. And she was a Cain.
“Very well, mother,” he said. “I will advise Dr. Lagrange at once.” His voice was odd, a touch of defeat in it perhaps, but also pride. Sarah Cain was ninety years old, but she was still every bit the Marine…and as much the source of his own inner strength as his father.
And he was damned glad she hadn’t insisted on going in with the strike team. He had an idea what an epic argument that would have been.
* * * * *
“They knew exactly where to hit us. Our anti-missile defenses are strong, but they are clustered around the cities and military installations. With the scanning net and coms down, we had no warning at all. Not until the detonations.” Colonel Matias Davidoff spoke firmly, confidently, though he still stood rigidly at attention. General Omar Calman was the supreme military commander on Eldaron, and he had a way of making everyone around him nervous. But it wasn’t Calman who threatened to shake Davidoff’s confidence. The veteran colonel was accustomed to reporting to the general. However the man standing behind was one he’d rarely seen in person—and had always feared.
“Our military equipment, at least, should have been shielded against EMP, Colonel, should it not?” The Tyrant spoke softly, with no hint of the rage everyone present knew he had to be feeling. “Can you explain why almost everything is dead—communications, scanners, transports, armored vehicles? Why is my army a disordered mess, crippled and panicked in the wake of a pending invasion?”
The Tyrant had managed to get control of himself since he’d left headquarters with Calman. He knew he was at least partially to blame for the blithering throng of sycophants that infested HQ, but now he found himself craving the company of capable subordinates, brave men and women ready to face whatever was coming…and he found them to be far too rare in his service.
But Davidoff was no coward, nor a brown-nosing yes man. He was nervous, that much was obvious, but the Tyrant suspected he would hear the truth from this man. And right now, the truth was what he needed.
“Excellency, our specifications for military equipment are quite clear with regard to shielding requirements…” The colonel’s voice trailed off.
“Yes, Colonel, I am aware of that. So, would you please enlighten me as to why, in spite of the specifications, nearly all of my military hardware has been turned into useless junk before a single enemy soldier has set foot on Eldaron?” His voice was hardening, rising in volume. He wasn’t yelling, not yet, but he was losing control over his frustration.
“Excellency, every order we have placed has corresponded with the specifications, but…”
“But?”
“That is not always what we receive.” Davidoff paused, and he swallowed hard. “Indeed, it is almost never what we receive.” Another nervous hesitation. “Excellency, you must be aware of the level of…corruption in some of the ministries. Procurement is perhaps the worst of all.”
The Tyrant could see Davidoff struggling to stand firm, to maintain his composure as he answered directly and firmly. Eldaron’s ruler did not like complaints or accusations against his cronies. Men had been killed for less, but now things had changed. The Tyrant felt an icy chill in his bones. Darius Cain was coming for him. The Black Eagles were coming. Indeed, they were already here. He had no time for profiteers and corrupt lords who worked him over with flattery while they were feathering their own nests. Not any longer. Now he needed hard men, fighters. He needed soldiers who could stand up and face an enemy like the Black Eagles.
The Tyrant stared back at Davidoff. This is a brave man. I don’t know how many there are like him in my service, but I need every one of them now. “You will take over the field command of the forces deployed around the citadel,” he said, noting the surprise in the officer’s expression. “And I am giving you your star, General Davidoff, to match the level of your new responsibilities.” The Tyrant turned toward Calman. “See that the newest member of our general staff gets everything he needs, General Calman.”
Calman nodded, a small crack of a smile on his lips. He’d been trying to get officers like Davidoff promoted over well-connected sycophants for years. “Yes, Excellency.”
“Thank you, Excellency.” Davidoff managed to keep his tone calm and even, but it was clear he was almost in a state of shock. He’d half expected a firing squad when the Tyrant had approached with Calman. The debacle now unfolding around the capital wasn’t his fault, but the last twenty years of Eldari history was strewn with the bodies of innocent scapegoats who had gone to the scaffold.
“I expect much from you, General,” the Tyrant said coldly. “Starting now. I don’t care how you do it, but I want these defenses ready when the Black Eagles land. That means scanning, communications…and certainly it means functioning weapon systems.” He paused, staring at his new general with a withering gaze. “Do you understand me, General Davidoff?”
“Yes, Excellency.”
The Tyrant nodded and turned around on his heels. Calman glanced over at Davidoff, and his expression virtually shouted out at his subordinate, a single desperate plea.
Find a way…
* * * * *
The landing craft bucked hard as it tore through Eldaron’s thick atmosphere. Darius Cain stood in his armor, motionless, bolted to the heavy racks along the ship’s interior hull. There were thirty-nine other Eagles in the assault lander…and four identical vessels coming down alongside. Two hundred men and women, the elite of the Black Eagles, were approaching the very center of the Eldari defenses.
The Eagle fleet had entered orbit and destroyed every Eldari satellite. Even if the enemy managed to get the viruses purged from their systems, their orbital capability was gone, replaced by the Eagle’s own com stations. The battle was yet to truly begin, but Cain’s warriors had undisputed control over planetary surveillance and communications. It was a huge advantage, and one he was sure they would need. He had force assessments for the Eldari military, but he suspected the enemy had more hidden somewhere…or they’d never have picked a fight with the Eagles. Whatever happened, his people were going to be outnumbered. Heavily.
Darius had fought many battles, and his armor felt like a second skin. He felt fear in battle, of course, and the pressure of being responsible for so many lives, though he’d learned how to manage it all, to put it aside and concentrate on the job at hand. But he was d
istracted this time, uncertain. He’d struggled to stay focused on the mission, to treat the operation like any other, but he’d found it to be far more difficult than he’d imagined. His father...was it really possible? Could he be alive after all these years? And if Erik Cain was alive, could Darius rescue him? Somehow find where he was being held and get there before the enemy killed him? Or would he arrive too late, only to find his father dead after fifteen years of captivity?
He felt something else too…a rage deep inside, an almost elemental need to seek out and destroy everyone responsible for his father’s abduction. Despite the fear and the dark reputation the Black Eagles endured, Darius had always conducted his affairs with a high level of calmness and rationality. He and his soldiers had designed their campaigns to minimize destruction and collateral damage. But he couldn’t feel that urge in him anymore, the impulse to control suffering. All that remained was a fiery anger, a hatred so deep he had no idea how to control it. When he’d seen the virus take effect and cripple the Eldari ground defenses, he’d felt a powerful urge, a desire to launch a massive nuclear assault, to bomb the defenseless planet into radioactive dust. The thought that his father might still be down there had stayed his hand, but he wondered now what he would have done if that had not been the case, if for example, he knew his father was already dead. Would he have destroyed a world for vengeance, unleashed death on 25 million people because of his own rage? He didn’t know…and he wasn’t sure he wanted to.
The lander shook again, pulling Darius from his daydream. He rolled his eyes upward, toward the combat display inside his visor. Five kilometers to landing. His AI was displaying the incoming scanner feed from the dish under the lander. His small strike force was approaching a city. It was large, with a cluster of skyscrapers in its central area. But it was dark now, and silent. The viruses and EMP had done their jobs, and not a single blast of defensive fire lit the inky night sky.
By all accounts, the Eldari capital was one of the largest metropolises in Occupied Space, the pride of the planet’s Tyrant and the result of two decades of almost inexplicable economic expansion. And he was about to invade it with two hundred troops.
He looked to the side of the shimmering image projected in front of him. The longer-ranged display was bright with blue icons. Landers, over a hundred of them, Black Eagle forces coming down all around the perimeter of the still dark and silent city. Those forces would land outside the city’s defensive perimeter, but Darius’ small force was coming down right on top of the Citadel, the Tyrant’s main fortress and command center.
It’s just as likely they’ve got him stashed in some mountaintop retreat or a prison in the middle of nowhere.
He shook his head, at least as much as he could bolted into the lander.
No…he’s no place else. If they have him, he’s here. You’ve faced men like the Tyrant before. The paranoia that goes hand in hand with totalitarian power. If he has a prisoner like father, he’d keep him close. In the most protected area of his domain.
I hope.
“Landing in one minute.” The AI’s voice reverberated in his helmet.
He glanced at his indicators. Everything was green, just as it had before launch…and the two other times he’d rechecked on the way down.
“Unitwide com,” he said quietly to the AI.
“Unitwide com activated,” came the immediate response.
“Okay, Eagles.” Darius said, struggling to put thoughts of his father out of his mind and focus on this operation as coolly as he had all his others. “We’re coming down right into the middle of the shit this time, so I want you all running out of these landers, ready to fight. Stay focused, every one of you…and remember, collateral damage protocols are suspended on this op. If you think there’s the slightest chance a contact is hostile…scrag it. We’re outnumbered everywhere on the planet, but the 200 of us are landing in the middle of an enemy army. We’ve got three considerations…finding the prisoner, striking as hard as we can at the enemy’s command and control capability, and staying alive. Anything else pops into your mind, slap it away and stay on focus. Now, let’s get this done!”
“Landing in fifteen seconds,” the AI announced just after Darius had finished.
He took a deep breath. The ships were coming in fast and steep, and that meant the landing would be a rough one. He remembered his father’s descriptions of the old Gordons and Liggetts the Marines had used years ago. They weren’t even ships, not really, just open frameworks with five or ten Marines bolted in. Talk about a rough ride…
The Eagles’ landing craft were fully enclosed and solidly built, not comfortable in any sense of the word, but not quite the trip down the Gordons were either.
Darius felt his body pressed hard against the front of his armor as the lander’s braking jets fired. A few seconds later the craft shook again as it touched down. The Black Eagles were on Eldaron.
“Alright, let’s move,” he shouted into the com as the locked bolts retracted and he hopped down from the rack. The other Eagles in the bay were doing the same thing, and a few seconds later, the ship’s AI dropped the back hatch, and armored soldiers began pouring out.
Darius looked around as he stepped out onto the Eldari street. The landers had come down at the edge of a small park. Three of them had landed on a wide grassy area, now blackened from the braking jets. The other two were partially in the street. It looked like a main thoroughfare, but it was deserted now, save for a few parked vehicles. Half a dozen Eagles were already running toward them, making sure no enemy was using them for cover.
Darius glanced up at his display then back to the street around him, getting his bearings. They were in an area of the city about three klicks north of the main business district. Right where we’re supposed to be, he thought as he turned around and looked up.
There it was…the huge chunk of stone the Eldari called the Spur. At least in the days before the Tyrant had built his fortress atop the four hundred meter high rock. Now it was known as the Citadel.
“Let’s go. Get organized by team and spread out. We move forward on a five hundred meter frontage.” Darius looked back toward the city center. Normally, five ships coming down in the middle of an enemy defense perimeter would have triggered every alarm imaginable, sending waves of troops down on the invaders. But the Eldari capital was dark, its scanners and communications networks dead. No doubt people had seen the glow of the landers’ engines as they swooped down, but even that information would be hard to communicate. Still, Darius Cain wasn’t one to take chances.
“Captain Kring, is your satellite uplink functioning?”
“Yes, General. I have full two-way communication with the battle computer on Eagle One.”
“Very good,” Cain said. “Any contacts?”
“Looks like nothing within two klicks, sir. At least nothing that looks like an organized response.” Kring paused. “It looks like chaos down here, General. I doubt they’re going to be able to organize anything to hit us before we get to the Citadel. And the main attack force is less than five minutes out.”
Just as planned…hopefully two regiments of Eagles coming down just outside the city will give them enough to think about while we find our way inside…
“Alright, Eagles…let’s get going. Our best bet is to find some drainage outlet or utility conduit and come up from the bottom.” Darius looked up at the hulking monstrosity of the Citadel itself, a massive, shadowy fortress protruding a hundred meters above the rocky peak. It was dark, but he knew that was deliberate, that the heavy guns ringing its circumference were silent for lack of targeting data and not because they’d been knocked out by the EMP. The Eldari had been stunningly unprepared for the EMP attack, but Darius knew better than to suspect the substandard equipment extended to their nerve center. No, the Tyrant’s inner sanctum would be fully shielded, he was sure of that. His two hundred elite commandos had no chance mounting a frontal assault…at least not until the main force pushed through and l
inked up with them.
So he had to find another way in…and he had to do it quickly.
“Captain Horssen, position a team a klick off of each flank and assign two to cover the rear.” Darius’ order was crisp and clear. His battlefield persona was taking over, pushing back the scared, angry son, at least for a moment.
“Yes, sir,” came the reply, every bit as sharp and confident as the original order. The Black Eagles’ Special Action Teams were as professional as soldiers got…and every one of them loved Darius Cain and knew exactly what was at stake.
Okay, father….if you’re there. I’m coming.
“Let’s move out!”
Chapter 25
Martian Council Chamber
Beneath the Ruins of the Ares Metroplex
Planet Mars, Sol IV
Earthdate: 2319 AD (34 Years After the Fall)
“Roderick, I’m sorry to disturb you, but we just got some intelligence I thought you needed to see right away.” Andre Girard stepped into the non-descript room that was serving as the office of the absolute ruler of the Martian Confederation. Vance had selected it almost immediately after securing his hold on power, deliberately rejected the ones his staff had suggested in favor of his own rather drab choice. Most of his underlings were confused by the selection, but Vance’s closest cohorts understood. Mars’ dictator had enough guilt for seizing control the way he had, and the last thing he wanted was to bury himself in palatial surroundings and the trappings of power.
“What is it, Andre?” Vance had a surprised look on his face, but he quickly pushed it aside.
He’d been the head of Martian Intelligence for a long time, and it was still a little uncomfortable having another layer between him and the incoming reports from the Confederation’s spy network. Vance had long maintained operatives throughout Occupied Space, combatting the isolationist directives of the council by ensuring that he had a constant flow of fresh intelligence at all times.
