Crimson Worlds: 08 - Even Legends Die

by Jay Allan

  Cain’s expression hardened. “Still, I am not ready to give up the fight just yet.” He stared coldly into Khaled’s eyes, and the Janissary commander returned his feral gaze. “We have a little more than two days before the enemy fleet arrives…closer to three before they can get new forces landed and into action. I propose we use that time to the best possible effect.”

  Khaled stared back, his head moving slightly in a barely perceptible nod of agreement. “By all means, General Cain. We must cripple the forces currently on the ground before their reserves can land. We must attack immediately and with everything we have. And we must press on, day or night…regardless of losses or fatigue.” Khaled stared right at Cain. “By the time the reserves land, we must destroy or break every enemy formation already on Armstrong. Then we can concentrate on the new arrivals.”

  Cain was silent for a moment, unmoving, his eyes locked on Khaled’s. “We have no time to waste,” he finally said grimly. “We attack in one hour.”

  Gavin Stark sat in the command chair on Spectre’s small, cramped bridge. The seat was tight and uncomfortable, and he had to be careful when he rose not to bang his head on the large girder just above. Spectre had not been built for comfort.

  The vessel was a technological marvel, the result of a long Alliance Intelligence R&D project, one Stark had completed in great secrecy. She was a small ship, streamlined to enable landings directly on a planet’s surface. She was fast too, nearly as speedy as Roderick Vance’s Torch transports. But that wasn’t what truly made Spectre an amazing development…or one so useful to Stark.

  The small vessel was the ultimate development in stealth technology, a ship nearly undetectable to any known scanning technology. She could even hide from normal vision. Her hull was covered with cameras that transmitted the view to the opposite side, creating an almost perfect illusion of total invisibility.

  Stark didn’t pretend to understand the amazing technology behind the ship’s incredible capabilities…and now no one else would either. Once he had his prototype and the complete schematics to guide his technicians in building more of the class, he disposed of the team of scientists who’d created the Spectre project. He’d penetrated enough enemy research programs to know anyone was breakable. Torture, blackmail, threats, bribery…he’d seen up close just how they all worked, even on the toughest subjects. There was a way to break anyone. And once they were broken, they hemorrhaged information. There was no point in taking unnecessary risks. Dead men were reliably silent. Live ones were loose ends. And Stark hated loose ends.

  He was a day in front of the rest of the fleet, darting toward the planet. His scanners had picked up a small enemy task force in orbit. Stark had been a little concerned about giving his stealth ship that kind of up close test. But the enemy ships broke orbit and fled toward the Vega warp gate shortly after Stark’s main force entered the system.

  The Shadow fleet was carrying 34,000 fresh troops, enough he figured, to wipe out those hellspawn Marines once and for all. Soon they would land, and when they did, their orders were clear. They would attack, and they would keep fighting without a break until every Marine on Armstrong was dead or a prisoner.

  But Stark had his own agenda. Since no one he’d sent had managed to get the job done, he was going to see to Erik Cain’s death himself. He was becoming obsessed with Cain, the repeated, failed attempts to kill the Marine general consuming his thoughts. Cain, the Marine who had invaded his fortress headquarters and ripped Augustus Garret from his grasp. Cain, who had somehow repulsed every assault Rafael Samuels and the Shadow legions had launched against his ragtag remnant of the Marine Corps.

  The continuing battle on Armstrong, despite the massive superiority of the Shadow forces, only inflamed his rage. Cain was a loose cannon, an adversary with the capacity to surprise Stark, to prevail against seemingly hopeless odds. And that was the one thing Stark couldn’t tolerate. An enemy he couldn’t predict was dangerous…a risk that had to be eliminated.

  “We are about to enter orbit, sir.” Captain Yantz had skippered Stark’s personal transport for years, and the spymaster took the loyal agent with him into the Shadow corps. “Do you want to land immediately?”

  Stark was lost in his thoughts about Cain, but Yantz’ words grabbed his focus. “Yes, Captain,” he said slowly, deliberately. “Bring us down just behind General Samuels’ lines.” He felt the anger and tension growing inside him. He turned and muttered quietly to himself. “It is time to deal with Erik Cain once and for all.”

  Explosions rocked the depths of the Sentinel, the shattered remnants of massive trees falling everywhere along the line. The twisted, battered trunks stretched across the field in hundred meter sections, blackened and twisted, lying where they had fallen and slowing the advance.

  The Janissaries had been attacking nonstop since dawn, landing hammer blow after hammer blow on the wavering enemy lines. The Shadow forces fought back ferociously, but they were exhausted and low on supplies. They were being driven back…slowly, steadily.

  Commander Farooq pushed the attacking Janissaries relentlessly, driving them against one enemy position after another. Cain and Khaled had put him in command of the 11,000 Janissaries and 2,000 Marines of the left flank with orders to attack…and attack, and attack. There was no time to rest, nor to regroup. The Marines and Janissaries had less than two days to destroy the enemy forces, and the morale of the Shadow legions was almost impossible to break.

  “Agha Sedik, commence your advance at once.” Farooq’s voice was deliberative, cold.

  “Yes, Pasha…at once.” Sedik was Farooq’s most reliable Agha, roughly comparable to a Marine brigadier. Sedik was leading three fresh ortas in a wide flanking maneuver. Once he was behind the enemy position, Farooq would launch the entire line in an all-out attack, driving the Shadow forces back onto them. It was a risky maneuver, especially for Sedik’s forces, but Farooq didn’t have time to spare. He knew they were fighting a battle of annihilation, and anything less than the total destruction of the enemy in the next 40 hours would be a failure.

  His forces had been pushing steadily forward, but the Sentinel was far from ideal ground for an offensive, especially when time was so short. Every time his people had to stop to clear the fallen trees from their paths, they lost precious minutes. But they couldn’t do anything about the terrain…the enemy was in the Sentinel, so the battle was there as well. Whatever difficulties the ground put in their way, the Janissaries would have to overcome with training, skill, and raw determination.

  The enemy was withdrawing to the south, and Farooq intended to stay right on top of them, despite the challenges of the terrain. The Shadow forces were heading toward the Graywater. That great river could be a highly effective defensive barrier…or a deathtrap. It largely depended on timing. If the Shadow forces got there in time to effect a crossing, they could prolong the fighting indefinitely…and with enemy reserves on the way, that would be a disaster for the Janissaries and Marines. On the other hand, if Farooq stayed close enough to attack while the enemy’s back was still to the river, he might bag the whole army.

  “C’mon, Sedik,” Farooq whispered anxiously to himself. “Get your people moving. We don’t have a second to spare.”

  “You have squandered 40,000 elite soldiers here, and the Marines are still defeating you.” Stark was glaring at Samuels as he spoke, his voice icy. “Are you truly so incapable that you fail despite all the advantages I have provided you?”

  “We had the Marines on the run, sir, but then the Janissaries arrived.” Samuels was clearly afraid. He’d seen more than once how Stark punished failure. And for all his own inflated ego, deep down, Rafael Samuels knew he had failed., that Erik Cain had outmaneuvered and outfought him.

  Stark had been surprised to find the Janissaries on Armstrong. After all the trouble he went through to get the Caliphate embroiled in a war with the Alliance, he still ended up facing 25,000 of the Caliph’s elite soldiers backing up Cain’s Marines. He coul
dn’t understand it at first, but then he realized the Caliphate must have botched their proscriptions, allowing the intended targets to escape and take flight…right into the arms of the Marines. It was almost too much to believe.

  He’d considered the whole move by the Caliphate against its officers a stupid exercise of pointless paranoia. He’d had nothing to do with it, and he hadn’t expected it to have a significant effect on his plans. Instead, he ended up with 25,000 rogue Janissaries on Armstrong and a Caliphate fleet out there somewhere…probably also allied with the Alliance. It was damned bad luck.

  Still, even with the Janissaries, his Shadow forces should have been strong enough to win the battle. He knew it was Samuels’ incompetence as much as any other factor that had let victory slip away for so long. “I do not suffer excuses, General Samuels…certainly not ones without merit.” His voice dripped with menace. “You had more than enough time and force to secure the planet before the Janissaries arrived. They were only allowed the opportunity to intervene by your incompetence. And even after they landed, you still had numerical superiority.” Stark stared at Samuels, death in his eyes. “Yet you were driven back almost from the moment the enemy was reinforced.”

  Samuels stood, silently enduring Stark’s tirade. He suppressed his own anger. Samuels was a bully by nature, not one to endure abuse from anyone. But he didn’t have anywhere near enough courage to stand up to Gavin Stark. He knew Stark might order him killed at any moment, and showing his rage would only seal his fate. He opened his mouth, planning to explain that the Shadow troopers were no match for the Marines on equal terms, but he caught himself before he said anything. Any excuse or attempt to shift blame would only enrage Stark further. “I’m sorry, sir. I have done all I could.”

  “Well, that wasn’t enough, was it?” Stark glared at Samuels. “But, fortunately, we have another opportunity. I have brought additional reinforcements to Armstrong. They are even now approaching the planet.”

  Samuels felt a small wave of relief. Gavin Stark was fundamentally unpredictable, but it didn’t sound like he was planning to dispose of his ground commander just yet. He knew the coming battle was crucial, not only to Stark’s plans…but to his own survival as well. Perhaps he could yet redeem himself. He had to hold out until the reserves landed. And then he had to lead the combined forces to victory against the Marines and their Janissary allies. It was a battle to which he would give his all. He knew another failure would seal his fate.

  “The reinforcements will be here in approximately 40 hours.” Stark’s eyes were locked on Samuels as he spoke. I suggest you find a way to contain the enemy offensive until they have landed.” It was a suggestion that carried the menace of death on it.

  Stark continued, his tone becoming harder, angrier. “But before the reserve divisions arrive, we have another job to do.” He paused, his face frozen with hatred. “Where is Erik Cain?”

  Chapter 26

  AS Yorktown

  Kruger 60 System

  Approaching Gamma Pavonis Warp Gate

  “We will begin transiting the warp gate in less than an hour.” Camille Harmon sat at the small table in her quarters, looking across at Cate Gilson and General Holm. “I don’t expect we’ll need the couches for our deceleration, but I’d like you to have your people ready on short notice, just in case.”

  “That’s not a problem, Camille.” Holm nodded as he spoke. He turned toward Gilson. “In fact, Cate, I want them all doubly ready. We have no idea what we’re going to find on Armstrong, and we need to be prepared to hit the ground immediately.” He paused. “I hope they enjoyed some rest on the trip, because it may be all they get for a while.” There was a hint of regret in his voice. After the brutal campaign on Arcadia, he knew his Marines deserved a much longer break than they were likely to get.

  Gilson glanced over at Holm and nodded. “They’ll be ready, sir.” Most of the Marines in the fleet’s transports were Gilson’s, though Holm’s old vets were there too. Gilson’s tone displayed no emotion like Holm’s did, though he knew she was as worried about her people as he was. He was just as sure she’d never show it. As far as Cate Gilson was concerned, her people would be ready for whatever they had to do…or God help them. Holm knew that some of her hard edge was a façade, but he’d never been able to get a feel for just how much of it.

  Sam Thomas was another one who had surprised Holm…or maybe not. Perhaps he’d just done what Holm had expected all along. His people had distinguished themselves enormously in the fighting on Arcadia. Holm initially ordered the old vets to stay behind when he left for Armstrong, but Thomas would have none of it. He’d diligently and obediently followed Holm’s orders without argument until the Commandant told him to sit out the rest of the fight. Then Holm got a caustic blast of the old Colonel Thomas he remembered from the Second Frontier War days. He felt guilty about exposing the old veterans to more danger, but when he polled them, they backed up Thomas to a man. In the end, Holm relented. The old Marines had earned the right to stay in the fight if that’s what they wanted, and he knew he didn’t have the moral authority to overrule them.

  Holm was anxious to get to Armstrong. He was concerned about the status of the battle and the thousands of Marines fighting there…and he was worried about Erik Cain. He thought of the brilliant but difficult subordinate as far more than a colleague. Career had been everything to Elias Holm, and he’d endured all the sacrifices that choice had cost him…love, home, family. But part of that void had now been filled, and he thought of Cain as the son he never had.

  He was deeply concerned about all his Marines fighting the battle for Armstrong, but his thoughts kept coming back to Cain. Holm knew the younger Marine was wild and reckless, that he’d put himself in almost any imaginable danger to win a fight. He also knew Cain’s luck would run out one day…that he would end up dead in a trench on the front lines, somewhere he’d had no place to be. He had tried to knock some sense into Cain more than once, but in the end he came to realize that his protégé’s intransigence and his strength came from the same place. For Erik Cain there couldn’t be one without the other. He was who he was, and there was no changing that. The cantankerous Marine was stubborn as a dozen mules, and he always would be. All Holm could do was accept reality and hope that Cain’s luck held until he got there with help.

  The 5,200 Marines on the fleet’s transports were exhausted, but they were also elated at the victory on Arcadia. The invading army had been completely destroyed, and Kara Sanders and her people were back in control of the planet. The three officers knew it was only one small triumph, that the status of the war as a whole was still very much in doubt. But winning any conflict started with the first victory. There were a million and a half people on Arcadia who were free again, and there was no bad side to that.

  They’d left all the wounded behind under the command of James Teller. As they recovered and returned to duty, they would support Sanders’ army and hold Arcadia against any new threats. As pleased as everyone was at the liberation of the planet, they were well aware the war was far from over. They knew another enemy force could attack the planet at any time.

  There was something else troubling Holm, something that cast a pall over the victory. His people had pushed the enemy back onto Kara Sanders’ forces during the climactic battle. Hit from two sides by vicious and relentless attacks, the morale of the Shadow forces finally broke, and the enemy soldiers ran for their lives. Holm had expected to take thousands of prisoners…but in the end there wasn’t even one. All along the line of the enemy’s flight, the Marines discovered something terrible, a hideous glance into the depth of evil behind their enemy. The Shadow soldiers lay strewn all about their line of rout. Dead. Poisoned by the AIs controlling their suits.

  Holm was horrified at the discovery. He had no love for the enemy soldiers…not after the losses they had inflicted on his own people. But they had fought bravely and with great discipline, ignoring casualties and fatigue. It was sobering to imag
ine an enemy so evil it would murder its own wounded and fleeing soldiers…even after they had taken 75% casualties in the fight. He wondered what it would cost to defeat such an enemy…and whether he had the strength to see it done.

  “We have no idea what we will discover when we transit into Armstrong’s system.” Harmon interrupted Holm’s thoughts. “But the lead elements are going through in exactly…” – she paused and glanced at the chronometer on the wall – “…33 minutes. I’d expect Yorktown to be roughly 40 minutes behind the vanguard.” She glanced at each of her guests in turn. “So,” she continued, “I suggest we all see to our responsibilities while we still have time.”

  Harmon rose, followed almost immediately by Gilson and Holm. “I suspect you have more to do than we do, Camille.” Gilson spoke softly to her friend as she started toward the door. She turned and looked back at Holm. “But I’ll get our people on pre-launch protocols, sir.” She took a few steps and turned back one last time. “They’ll be ready to do whatever they have to.” A short pause then: “As always.”

  “Battlestations.” Camille Harmon’s tone was cold, emotionless. “The fleet will prepare for combat.” Yorktown had just emerged from the warp gate to find the fleet’s lead elements on alert. The scouts had transited almost an hour before, and they were just getting scanner readings from another fleet about one lighthour insystem.

  “Yes, Admiral.” Lieutenant Commander Givens punched the alert code, and Yorktown’s battlestations lamps cast a reddish glow across the bridge. A few seconds passed, then: “All fleet units acknowledge alert status, Admiral.”

  “Very well.” Harmon’s eyes stared right at the main scanner. The reports were still coming in, but it was already clear she was facing a stronger force than her own. The scanners were picking up Alliance transponders, but not from all of the ships. Harmon wasn’t sure it was a hostile force yet, but she wasn’t taking any chances.