by Jay Allan
More than anything, save one thing perhaps. He was happy to lavish gratitude and appreciation on those closest to him, to bask in the warmth of their presence and credit them with his recovery. But there was something darker at work, too, as there so often had been in his greatest achievements. Erik had a score to settle, an enemy still out there, one responsible for all that had happened to him, for taking him away from his family for so long. For years of torment he could barely think about, much less ever share with anyone in any detail. And Erik Cain repaid those kinds of debts. Always.
He watched his opponent carefully, good advice in any fight, but absolutely crucial when facing perhaps the deadliest adversary in all human occupied space. The man on the other side of the practice ring, eyeing him with an intensity like none he’d ever seen before, was feared by billions, his name spoken as a curse on countless worlds, a label that came close to home for the old Marine. Cain had come to realize Darius’s notoriety fully in the two years since he’d been freed, to understand the reputation and its origins, and it had gnawed at him. He understood it, yet he resented it as well, saw the aspects of it that were justified…and the myriad ways in which it was unfair.
Cain had many reasons for his feelings, for the conclusions he’d drawn from his recent education on the events of the last fifteen years—an understanding of war, one of conflicts between worlds and nations, the perspective of a career fighting man—but one stood out like a beacon. His sparring partner, the one who instilled such terror in so many, was not only the man most responsible for his rescue…he was also Cain’s son.
“You are really up to form now, father.” Darius held up his weapon, and then his hand, signaling an end to the bout. “Especially for an old guy.”
Cain smiled, relaxing his straining muscles, tossing the pugil stick to the side. “An old warrior who could still teach a young pup like you a thing or two.” He took a deep breath. He knew his words were empty, a reflexive retort. Despite years of regen treatments, and the fact that close to half his current body weight consisted of newly regenerated parts, he felt his age creeping up on him. Darius was all he’d been at his peak…and more. His son had eclipsed him in skill and military prowess, though it remained to be seen what he became, what he made of his great gifts.
Age. And wear and tear…no matter how much of me Sarah regrows—again—the fatigue is there, soul deep…
Erik Cain had been the greatest Marine of his day, a man who’d found redemption in the Corps and had risen to lead it. But he knew as he stood there, in the inner sanctum of the legendary Black Eagles, that his son had excelled to another level. At least as a practitioner of the art of war.
“Well, we’ve got some fighting to do, that much is certain, so you’ll get your chance.” Darius paused, his voice betraying a rare glimpse of emotion. “I never thought I’d get to go to battle at your side, father. I remember sitting home, knowing you were at war, struggling to defeat the Second Incursion. All I wanted was to be with you.” Darius paused, looking down at the polished floor. “Later, when I was learning the trade, I spent every free moment reading military histories, and no small number of the recent ones were yours…and the Marines’. You did some impressive things, father, won some victories that must have seemed unattainable at the time.”
Cain paused, feeling a wave of discomfort when his son called war a ‘trade.’ He had fought for causes, because he was attacked, to support his comrades…but Erik Cain had never viewed fighting in so coldly routine a manner. As a ‘trade.’
“We had some tough fights…” His tone deepened, became more somber. “…and we lost a lot of good men and women.” He had outlived many of those who’d fought at his side. No, he realized, not many, most of them.
“I’d never have thought then that I’d still be at war so many years later…that it would be so impossible to escape conflict.” Cain’s voice carried a deep sadness with it.
“That is the nature of things, father. There is no escape. Mankind cannot get away from its true nature.” Darius’s words lacked his father’s regret. They were almost entirely without emotion, save perhaps for a grim sort of acceptance. “The vast majority of people will always be pathetic sheep…and they will follow corrupt and brutal leaders who make them empty promises. That is why I chose not a cause for my life’s work, a pursuit that could only lead to failure and disillusionment, but merely to position myself to prosper from the folly humanity will never outgrow. They may despise me for the skill and effectiveness of my soldiers, but the conflicts we fought were of their making, not ours.”
Erik stared back across the room at his son, and his sorrow grew more profound. He had also been a cynical man, one who had suffered early in life and who had greeted most human endeavors that followed with skepticism—a viewpoint in which he’d been proven right more often than not. But he had also found things to believe in—the Corps, his comrades, some truly extraordinary men and women who’d fought at his side…and, of course, most of all Sarah. He and his wife had endured repeated and extended separations, but their devotion to each other had never wavered. He wanted the same for Darius, but he saw in his son only the parts of himself with which he’d most struggled, taken to even greater extremes and lacking most of what had allowed Erik himself to cling to the shreds of his humanity.
“It is mankind’s curse, my son. Sometimes, certainly. And yet, perhaps ultimate victory is out there for the taking. Perhaps this will be the final war.” Cain didn’t really believe it, not even as he said it…but he felt he had to say something, to try to reach Darius, if only because he couldn’t accept the frigid nature of his son’s outlook. He had often thought much the same way, but he’d always fought against it, been plagued by the guilt of his actions, the costs. But Darius was as coldly robotic in his approach as any man he’d ever known, and the commander of the Black Eagles didn’t seem to give so much as a second thought to the millions his soldiers had killed.
Darius wasn’t a bloodthirsty man by nature, nor an evil one, Cain was sure of that, but he knew his son was utterly unconstrained by normal human moderation. Outside his personal army and very small group of trusted friends, Darius viewed all the universe as a potential enemy, or at least the means to an end. If he could accomplish his goals with ten deaths, he would…but if it took a million, or ten million, that fact wouldn’t stay his hand for an instant.
How must it be to live like that? To wrestle with all that I have…and so much more besides? And can I argue with his conclusions? Does history…does our current situation…offer anything to put forth in evidence to challenge my son’s hard views? What did he see growing up? What thoughts took him when I didn’t return? We faced the clearest threat to liberty we ever have against the Shadow Legions…and now, little more than a generation later, world after world can’t wait to yield, to accept the rule of the enemy…a foe that has still not shown himself, not completely.
“Perhaps, father,” Darius replied after a long silence. Cain knew his son didn’t believe it, but there was no point in arguing…especially since he didn’t know if he even believed it himself. Now, more than ever, he wanted nothing more than to live in peace, to escape the brutality of war and enjoy what time remained to him with his family. But that wasn’t possible. The pattern of his life was repeating, and once again the trumpet was sounding. He longed to ignore it this time, but he knew he couldn’t. There was no escape. If the enemy wasn’t defeated, there would be no life such as the one he desired. There would be a stark choice. Slavery or death. And Erik Cain had only ever had one answer to that question.
“Well, that’s a debate we’ll have to table for another day, son.” Cain looked at his son, and he felt himself fighting back a wave of emotion. “I have to leave, Darius,” he said abruptly. “I want to thank you for helping me get back into condition. It’s a lot harder than it used to be. Our technology has held back age—a bit—but it hasn’t defeated it. Not by a long shot.” Cain paused, glancing around the room before
settling his gaze back on Darius. “I’d like to stay, or better still, I’d love for us all to go back home, but that’s just not possible.”
Cain regretted the mention of going home. His children had been born and raised on Atlantia, a planet that had not only declared Darius an outlaw, but one that had fallen under a corrupt and oppressive government…one he was virtually certain was being influenced by the enemy. The Black Flag.
“I wondered when you would tell me.” Darius forced a smile, but Cain could see through it, recognize that his son was unhappy about his leaving.
“You knew?”
“Of course. I’ve known since you sent a communique to Admiral Garret, asking for an escort to Armstrong. Do you really think anything happens in the Nest that I don’t know about?” Darius hesitated. “I would have dispatched a flotilla to take you to Armstrong, father. You just had to ask.”
“I didn’t want to add to your responsibilities, son. You’ve got enough here, getting your people ready for the fight…and adding so many to their numbers. I’m certain your ships are fully occupied, without ferrying one old man halfway across Occupied Space.”
Darius looked uncomfortable. “Still, perhaps I will send a few ships along with Admiral Garret’s force. Just to be safe.”
Cain understood his son’s concern. He shared it, though he’d done his best to fight the fear. It had been more than seventeen years since he’d been taken, but Cain knew he’d never forget that his long and brutal captivity had resulted not from any battle on the ground, but from a ship, taken in space by superior forces.
“Augustus will send enough force, Darius,” he said, trying to sound as reassuring as he could. “Don’t worry…I won’t end up on another Eldaron, son.” No, I won’t. They’ll never take me alive again. Never.
He kept that last part to himself. He knew how much he had suffered, but he could only imagine how those years had affected his family…or how they were dealing with the fact that he’d been alive all the years they’d thought him gone. Years they’d gone on with their lives, even as he suffered.
“I’d still feel better, father. My fleet is mostly guarding the Nest right now. Detaching a few ships for a flit to Armstrong isn’t going to materially degrade our defenses.”
“It’s really not necessary, son.” Cain’s voice didn’t have any real conviction behind it. He knew it was pointless to argue once Darius had made up his mind. If he refused the escort, the Black Eagle ships would just follow his force anyway.
“Still, it won’t hurt anything.” Darius paused. Then: “Are you sure you want to go, father? You can stay with us here…you and mother. I know it’s not Atlantia, but we could build you a pleasant residence.”
Cain sighed softly. “I would, Darius…we both would, you know that. But we’ve been Marines all our adult lives. We’re all going to be part of this fight, and I’m just too old a warrior to change now. There will be men and women who’ve come back to the colors, Marines who have served under me in old wars. They deserve to see me there again, Darius, leading them. Could you imagine sending the Eagles into battle—this battle—without you?”
“No, of course not. I understand. It’s just…well, I thought you were gone forever for so long.” He paused, uncomfortably. Emotion didn’t come easily to him. “After so long…it’s been nice having you here.” He looked at his Cain, sucking in a ragged breath. “I missed you, father.”
Cain stared back at his son, fighting his own surge of emotion. Robotic restraint came harder to him than it did to Darius, and he came close to losing his composure. Finally, he managed a clipped response. “I missed you too, son.”
The two men stood and looked at each other, and then they embraced, a long hug. Erik Cain never knew for sure which of them had been the first to move toward the other, but he knew he would never forget the moment.
“When this fight is over, we can all spend some time together.” Cain said the words, but was sure he believed them. His entire existence had been spent in pursuit of the life he’d just described, but for all his struggles, he’d only attained bits of it. He was immensely grateful for Sarah and his sons, but he resented the constant demands that had taken him from them so often and for so long. They’d had little more than a decade of true peace…amid half a century of brutal combat. Whatever happened, Erik Cain knew one thing. He would do what duty required of him now, in this struggle…but not again.
Humanity can learn its lesson or not…it can do whatever it chooses. But whatever happens, this will be my last war…
“What about Elias?” he asked suddenly. “Any word?”
“I don’t know anything you don’t. I haven’t heard from him or from Eagle Fourteen…but that’s not unexpected. They’re operating under stealth conditions, so they wouldn’t have communicated with the Nest anyway, not if it wasn’t an emergency.” Darius paused then added, “Captain Grayson is a highly capable officer, father, and Eagle Fourteen is one of the strongest ships in space. Elias will be fine.”
“I know he will,” Erik said, with less conviction than he longed to feel. “I just hate leaving without having a chance to talk to him.”
“There’s no rush, father. Perhaps you could stay a while longer…”
Erik shook his head. “I’d like nothing more, Darius, but you know as well as I do, whatever is happening out there, it is coming to a head. We’ve been preparing, but we’ve been late since the beginning. The Marines have to be ready, and I’ve dumped all the work on Cate Gilson for too long.” He paused, feeling a rush of regret. “I have to go, son. We’re out of time.”
Chapter 3
Eagle Fourteen
Outer System – Epsilon Indi II
Earthdate: 2321 AD (36 Years After the Fall)
“If we’re going to intervene, Colonel, it will have to be soon.” Grayson’s voice was close to non-committal, but not quite. Black Eagles weren’t supposed to let normal human emotions affect their judgment, but Elias could tell the captain was angry watching the heavy cruiser being slowly overwhelmed by the pirates. The ship was from the old Alliance navy, just as Grayson himself was. He didn’t doubt his brother’s officer would sit and watch the ancient warship defeated and destroyed, but he was sure Grayson wouldn’t like it.
Elias didn’t know what to do. Every impulse within him cried out to come to the stricken ship’s aid, but he knew his mission was important too, and opening fire would advertise Eagle Fourteen’s presence. Atlantia was his home—or at least it had been—and he’d come there to determine whether its government was in communication with the Black Flag. Or worse. Though the fact that their patrol is not interfering with the raiders is pretty close to an answer…
He knew what Darius would do. The Eagles’ commander had an almost unparalleled ability to focus on the mission, to disregard the cost or the collateral damage. But Elias wasn’t his brother.
“Do it,” he said grimly.
“All weapons stations, power up and engage targeting systems. Lock onto the raiders.” Grayson’s voice was that of a veteran who had seen battle dozens of times, and Elias could hear the confidence in his commands…and also the relief at not being forced to stand by and watch as one of Admiral Garret’s ships got blasted to scrap.
Elias worried that Eagle Fourteen couldn’t handle the pirate flotilla, especially after another three ships had blasted out from behind the warp gate, bringing the total force to six. That was more than enough strength to vaporize the beleaguered old heavy cruiser, but Eagle Fourteen was a powerful battleship, larger even than the old Alliance Yorktown class that had claimed their place so firmly in history during the wars against the First Imperium. Elias was no expert on space combat, but Grayson didn’t seem too concerned, so he just sat and watched.
“All batteries report locked and ready to fire, sir.” The tactical officer sounded as cool and experienced as Grayson. Elias had once derisively referred to his brother’s soldiers and spacers as little better than pirates themselves, and though
he’d revised that estimation considerably over the past two years, he still found himself continually surprised at just how professional and effective a fighting force Darius had created. He still wished his brother had devoted his considerable skills to service of his home world and not as a mercenary fighting for pay…but then, his own experiences at the hands of Atlantia’s government gave him pause even in that viewpoint. Though he’d never have believed it several years before, he realized such power was perhaps more safely placed in Darius’s hands than in a government more interested in the accumulation and preservation of its leaders’ power than anything else.
“Fire.” He froze for an instant as he heard Grayson give the command, the order that would give away Eagle Fourteen’s position. A smaller ship might have passed for any number of vessels, but no one else in present-day Occupied Space possessed warships like those of the Black Eagles.
Elias heard the sounds of the massive laser batteries opening up, the almost incalculable output of Eagle Fourteen’s three enormous fusion reactors poured into devastating beams of focused light, ripping through space, tearing into the pirate raiders with unimaginable destructiveness. One of the targets simply vanished, hit by three blasts almost simultaneously, and then a second followed, leaving nothing but a superheated plasma in its place.
The others stopped firing at the cruiser, and they came around, bringing their weapons to bear on Eagle Fourteen. Their laser pulses slammed into the battleship’s heavy armor, and Elias could feel the vessel shake. The attacks caused damage, but it was minimal, a fact confirmed as he listened to Grayson fielding the reports. Outer compartments breached, external scanners destroyed…but nothing critical.
