Crimson Worlds Successors: The Complete Trilogy

by Jay Allan

  “Perhaps,” Elias responded. “What do we do if we are able to find it, Darius?” Elias knew there would be millions of slaves on Vali, men and women who’d been kidnapped from Earth, from raids on other worlds and ships captured in the depths of space. People who had families, loved ones. He thought of the pain he’d felt at his father’s disappearance, and at the joy when Erik Cain had returned to his family. How many others were still in despair, still longing for the return of those they’d missed for so long. He wondered how they could rescue those people, get them off the enemy fortress world and return them to their homes. But he knew what Darius was going to say, before his brother’s mouth even moved. And it troubled him.

  “We’re going to destroy it, Elias. We’re going to blast these bastards with so many gigatons it will make what happened on Earth during the Fall look like a fireworks display.”

  * * * * *

  “I think I’m going to tell you what I did to the Tyrant of Eldaron…again. He didn’t put up that much of a fight, but then after the whole battle, I needed some leisure too, so I went a little…farther…than I probably had to.” Darius Cain stood next to the captive, his face a haggard scowl. The Black Flag’s conditioning was impressive. Whatever these pirates knew, and he realized that could be little or nothing, he hadn’t been able to get a word out of them despite—spirited—interrogation.

  No response at all. It was eerie, and it gave him pause, concerns about what his people were about to fight. It had been years since Darius Cain had met anyone in Occupied Space he couldn’t scare. Not just scare, but downright terrify. The stories about him were mostly exaggerations, or outright falsehoods, some even started or encouraged by him. It had all been very useful, the horror that descended on his target worlds as his forces arrived. Any enemy you could intimidate into submission was one you didn’t have to kill…and one who didn’t get a chance to kill you. But the shadow of the infamous Darius Cain meant nothing to these pirates, and despite all the fear he’d tried to instill, not to mention a fair amount of physical discomfort, they had refused to answer a single question or provide so much as a first name.

  Darius stared at the man, feeling the frustration building. He knew his reputation, he was well aware that millions in Occupied Space imagined he wouldn’t hesitate to inflict the most diabolical torture on his enemies. Indeed, he had done just that to the defeated Tyrant, but there had been a rage there like none he’d ever felt before, an inferno kindled by his first sight of his father’s tormented form in the dank, hideous cell where he’d lived for fifteen years of hell. Nothing could have kept him back from the man responsible for that nightmare, and no morality, no restraint, could have mattered an iota in how that story had ended. But generally, Darius had no love of causing pain, and only cultivated fear for the utility of it, not some sick enjoyment of the dread he caused in others.

  There was a difference, however, between him and most others. He would do what he had to do, even if he didn’t want to, even if it sickened him. The stakes here were no less than the freedom, even the very survival of humanity. There was nothing he wouldn’t do to an enemy to prevent that ultimate disaster.

  He would have tortured the pirate mercilessly if that had been necessary, but he suspected no amount of pain could overcome the enemy’s conditioning…and the Black Flag apparently had no less ability to weaponize fear than he did. No, the answer here would come from a doctor’s syringe, perhaps even surgery. He would have to resort to the tools the enemy had employed to make their warriors unbreakable.

  We’ll see if they’re really unbreakable…

  He reached over to the comm unit. “Send Doctor Hind down to the detention area. Now. I need his assistance with a prisoner.”

  “Yes, General Cain. At once.”

  Darius stood and stared at the prisoner for a few minutes. The man was still silent, utterly so. He just sat still, staring at the far wall, without so much as the slightest hint of fear on his face. Darius was impressed. He’d seen conditioning, and he’d heard of what Gavin Stark had done with his Shadow Legions, before he’d even been born, but this had to be the most effective job he’d ever seen.

  The door slid open, and Hind dashed through with two of his assistants right behind him. “General…” He snapped off a crisp salute, followed almost at once by the two junior officers standing behind him.”

  “Doctor,” Darius responded, returning the salute. “I need your help. I can’t seem to break this prisoner’s conditioning. I want you to do a thorough scan and examination. We must know what he knows…millions of lives depend on it, and I’m looking to you to find a way to get past the block.”

  “I’ll do everything I can, sir.” Hind didn’t sound enormously hopeful, but he didn’t suggest he couldn’t do it either. ‘Couldn’t do it’ wasn’t really in the Eagles’ vocabulary.

  “Thank you, Doctor.”

  “With your permission, I’d like to move him to the infirmary. The brainscanner is there, and I’ll have an easier time working my way through the whole thing.” A pause. “I’ll finish a lot faster.”

  “Very well, Doctor, but I want two guards there at all times, around the clock.” He turned toward one of the Eagles standing against the far wall. “Sergeant, you take one soldier with you and escort Doctor Hind’s team and the prisoner to the infirmary. You will remain there until relieved. Under no circumstances will you leave the prisoner unguarded. Understood?”

  “Yes, sir!”

  Cain stood and watched as Hind’s people brought in a power chair and eased the prisoner onto it. The sergeant was standing less than a meter away, rifle in hand, looking for all the world as though he was determined to show Darius how seriously he took the general’s charge.

  A few seconds later, the door slid open. “Darius…General…” Erik Teller walked through. The Eagles’ second in command had clearly thought Darius was alone. He almost never greeted his friend informally in front of other Eagles.

  “What is it, Erik?” Cain could hear the urgency in Teller’s tone.

  “It’s Dr. Sparks, General. He’s completed some analysis on the enemy ship. He’s found…well, I think you should come and see. Right now.”

  Darius felt a wave of excitement, and he gestured for Teller to move toward the door. The two men walked out in the corridor. “Has he found a link to the enemy’s headquarters?”

  “No, General, at least not conclusively, but there is something else.”

  Darius almost pressed harder, but he could tell his oldest friend wanted Sparks to explain. The Eagles’ chief scientist was as brilliant a man as he’d ever known. Sparks served him now, as he had Darius’s father and the Marines years before. Though his pay has gone up about fifty-fold. Sparks had carried a brigadier’s rank in the Corps, but the Eagles had only ever had one general, so Sparks was called simply, ‘Doctor.’

  Teller led Darius into the lift and down to one of the landing bays. As soon as they stepped out of the car, Darius saw Sparks standing there. He knew the researcher was north of ninety years old, but just as his own parents had, Sparks had received the old rejuv treatments most of his adult life. He had wiry gray hair, perhaps just a touch of the mad scientist look to him, but otherwise he resembled a healthy man in his mid-late fifties.

  “General, thank you for coming right down. I have far from completed my studies on the Black Flag vessel, but I have made a determination I felt you should hear at once, one I did not wish to trust to normal transmissions.”

  That last bit made Darius tense up as much as any of the rest of it. The Nest had the most sophisticated AI and communications systems in Occupied Space. If Sparks was worrying about someone intercepting their transmissions, that could only mean trouble.

  “Well, Doctor, we’re all here—and Colonel Teller here seemed to feel I should hear this from you—so, let’s have it.”

  “As I said, sir, I began the analysis of the Black Flag vessel. I could tell immediately that their technology was a match for ou
rs…at least.”

  Darius didn’t like the ‘at least’ part.

  “But it was only after I was able to partially disassemble several main systems that I realize what I was looking at.”

  “And what was that, Doctor?”

  “The First Imperium.”

  Darius felt his stomach tighten. Despite the widespread belief that he never felt fear, that was utter nonsense. “Are you certain?” The last First Imperium encounter had taken place when Darius was still a teenager, but he knew enough about the strange robotic forces to understand the magnitude of what he was hearing.

  “Yes, there is no question. Portions of the technology are unmistakable.”

  Darius shook his head. “I’ve never heard of First Imperium forces using human recruits, or seeking to subjugate rather than exterminate. If we are facing the First Imperium, something very different is happening than what occurred before.”

  “I don’t believe we are facing the actual First Imperium, General. I am saying that First Imperium technology has been adapted by whatever force we are up against. Much as we have done over the years, as we have deciphered their science bit by bit.”

  Darius stated back at Sparks. “So, Doctor, who exactly do you think we’re dealing with?”

  “I can’t say, General, not yet at least. But I can tell you it is someone more familiar with First Imperium technology than we are…and that very likely means if these small raiders are as technologically capable as they seem, when we are confronted with true warships, we will very likely be facing vessels more advanced and capable than our own.”

  Darius stood in the bay, silent, thinking about what he’d just heard. He had understood what Sparks said immediately, but the implications took a few seconds to fully form in his thoughts. When they did, a single word summed it up.

  Shit.

  Chapter 9

  Atlantian Capitol

  Planet Atlantia, Epsilon Indi II

  Earthdate: 2321 AD (36 Years After the Fall)

  “It is time, Den. At last.” The relief in Asha Mazeri’s voice was profound. She’d spent close to three years following the officious DeSilva around, aiding him in his clumsy power grab, and deploying the bribes, blackmail, and threats that kept him secure as the effective dictator of Atlantia. All the while, the damned fool thought he’d achieved it all himself, that the Black Flag had only provided basic support.

  DeSilva did have some talents, of the sort possessed by a reasonably competent corrupt machine politician. His skills were ideal for emptying the graveyards into the polls or losing entire ballot machines full of the opposition’s votes, and indeed, he had managed to secure his own election without any significant assistance, save perhaps financial support. But it was one thing to be a political boss, and an elected president, and quite another to secure the absolute, unchallenged rule of a planet. Armando DeSilva was exactly that now, and for two years, Mazeri had seen to it that every shred of opposition, every hint of dissent, had been ruthlessly swept away. DeSilva thought of himself as a hard man, but he’d never have had the stomach to do what she had, and even now, two years into his brutal rule, she’d never told him all the things she had done in his name.

  Now, finally, she could dispense with the charade. She had no further need of DeSilva’s name, nor the vestiges of his political organization. The freighters bringing in trade goods from other Black Flag worlds had carried a secret shipment…soldiers. Now she had enough forces to take open control of Atlantia, and to put herself in DeSilva’s place.

  “What are your orders, Your Excellency?” Den Tarlton was Mazeri’s second-in-command. For two years he had posed as her aide, almost as a secretary of sort. She imagined that had been galling to him, and she was virtually certain that just as she had imagined removing DeSilva and becoming Atlantia’s ruler, so he had harbored visions of one day overthrowing her. It was the way of the Black Flag, and she herself had supplanted no less than three superiors to get where she was now. She understood Tarlton’s ambitions, and she didn’t fault him for them, not really. But she would make sure that when the time came, it was he who ended up face down in a ditch somewhere, and not her.

  “It is time for President DeSilva to pass into the annals of history.” A pause. “See to it yourself, Den. Take as much force as you need. I want no slipups.” Mazeri knew just how the Black Flag viewed failure.

  “Yes, Your Excellency.” Tarlton was jumping the gun on her title—technically, she was still just Minister Mazeri—but she didn’t mind her aide’s pandering. She rather liked the sound of ‘Your Excellency,’ and she was happy to give it a go a few hours ahead of schedule.

  “All of DeSilva’s cabinet members must also be killed, and their assistants. I have personnel ready to assume the positions. And see that our secret troops are deployed to all vital locations.” Mazeri had spent three years replacing army commanders with those loyal to her, deploying the bribery and blackmail she’d used to secure DeSilva’s position to undermine the president now. But she wasn’t ready to trust Atlantian units, not with something this important.

  “They will all be eliminated, Your Excellency. I can assure you of that.”

  Mazeri nodded. “Go then, Den, and come back here when it is done.” Mazeri always suspected betrayal, but she wasn’t overly concerned here. Tarlton would absolutely betray her if he got the chance, she was sure enough of that. But her aide’s route to power required her to seize it first. Tarlton simply wasn’t tied in enough to the Black Flag forces on the planet and the native ministers supporting her. It was a safety net of sorts, one for which she was grateful, but also one she knew wouldn’t last.

  She watched as Tarlton left the room, and then she sat down and let out a deep breath. All her life she’d longed for the kind of power that now lay at her fingertips. She was anxious, excited…and a little scared. She looked over at the comm unit on her desk, the one that connected her with her offworld contact. She was tense too, wondering what orders would follow the authorization to launch her coup. It was easy for her to focus on Atlantia, but she knew the Black Flag had far larger goals…and she didn’t have the slightest doubt that she, and the world she would rule in a matter of hours, would be expected to do their part.

  * * * * *

  “It has begun. The fleets are en route, and even now, the preliminary phase has begun. On fifty planets, worlds that have submitted to our rule are being brought directly into the fold. The craven politicians who yielded to us are being removed—permanently—and replaced by our own designees. Further analysis has only confirmed our decision. The original natives served their purposes, and their greed and fear allowed us to gain control of much of Occupied Space with the use of minimal resources. But now it is time to ready these worlds for what will be expected of them. Their leadership must be secure, and utterly loyal. And their people will have to truly accept their new reality, the obligations expected of them by their new rulers.” Two’s thoughts were intense, a power behind him that once might have felt like enthusiasm.

  “The assassinations should also be underway as we speak,” One added. “Our operatives on forty independent planets have confirmed they are in position. They will strike at the appointed time. In a matter of hours, worlds all across Occupied Space outside our control will lose their leadership. The resulting chaos will limit the ability of allied planets to dispatch aid to the systems targeted for attack. We project an approximate sixty percent success rate, or roughly twenty-five systems that will be effectively decapitated just before the assault forces reach their destinations.”

  “Our plans seem well-founded, yet…”

  “What doubts do you harbor, Three? Share them.”

  “I have no doubts, nothing so dire. However, I am concerned about the reserve levels we have held back at Draconia Terminii. We have left ourselves little flexibility to react if our attacks are…unsuccessful in any way.” Three paused, a rarity for the clones since they’d been uploaded into the Intelligence. “Perhaps w
e should also have kept more forces to defend the home system. If the enemy is able to locate Draconia Terminii…”

  “We reviewed such concerns at great length, Three, when we decided to draw from the home fleets to reinforce the strike forces. Our plan has been analyzed in great detail, and the likelihood of failure is infinitesimal.”

  “I must agree with One,” Two said. “Our conditioning is far in advance of anything our enemies possess, and it is extraordinarily unlikely they will be able to break any captives, even if they are able to catch them. All data we have gathered to date suggests our suicide compulsion has prevented any of our vessels or personnel from falling into enemy hands. Further, even if the enemy was able to locate Vali’s system, a supposition of extreme unlikelihood, it is highly doubtful they would launch an attack with so many of our fleets still at large in Occupied Space. It is not their way. We have studied the campaigns of the Marines and Admiral Garret’s navy, and the militaries of many of the free worlds. They will not devote massive resources to seeking out and attacking our main base—a planet they cannot even know exists for certain—while their worlds are still in danger. Indeed, even if we are driven from the primary target, we can redeploy our forces to threaten other planets, and inflict massive civilian casualties to divert their attention while our subjugated worlds bring their own forces online to support our fleets.”

  There was a pause of sorts, an absence of thoughts. Finally, Three radiated a comment. “Your logic is flawless, I do not challenge that. But I do have one question…one I believe we need to consider with greater care. Admiral Garret will not abandon worlds under threat to seek out and attack an enemy. Neither will the Marines. These conclusions seem reasonable when reviewing the history of the parties in question. But I ask this, and seek your deepest review. Can we be sure that Darius Cain would not come here? That he would not leave worlds to endure bombardment, vast populations to face nuclear devastation, all to seek out and destroy an enemy and end the war?”