by Jay Allan
Stark laughed. “Do you think I will let success go to my head?” He leaned back, stretching out in the massive leather chair. “You know me better, my friend.” He picked a small piece of lint off of his otherwise spotless tuxedo. “I am well aware of the many problems we still face.”
The older man smiled. “Yes, there are always more challenges. But it is a moment for limited celebration.” He ran his eyes over his companion’s perfectly tailored suit. “You should be leaving soon.”
“Are you sure you won’t come?” Stark was looking forward to the Presidential reception, even if he was going under his cover as a megacorp executive and not the mastermind of the Alliance Intelligence services. “It should be amusing.”
The old man laughed. Jack Dutton had been a power in Washbalt for seventy years. “I have been going to these things since before you were shaving. They have all been interminable. Now I am old enough to have an excuse to stay home.” He took another drink. “But by all means, you enjoy watching that pompous ass take credit for the victory.”
Stark smiled. “The president can do whatever he wants. The more he struts around and plays a role, the less he interferes with our running things.” He paused for a second. “When he is no longer necessary, we can deal with him.”
Dutton smiled. “I suspect that will be your game, my friend. That plan is a little longer term than I am, I think.”
“I’m not sure I really believe you are capable of dying. You’re too grouchy.” Stark smiled for a minute, then he straightened in his chair, his face suddenly serious. “You are right about having some problems, however. The war was won; there is no doubt about that. But we still have Garret and Holm to deal with, and both have become even bigger heroes.” He paused, his brow furrowed in thought. “I’m not sure how to get rid of them now that we will be at peace.”
“We will just have to watch for our opportunity.” Dutton shifted slightly in his seat, trying to get comfortable – something that was becoming more difficult with each passing year. “We will need to be patient. And watchful. They must be carefully monitored.” After a brief pause, he added, “And I would put Erik Cain on that list as well. He does not have Garret’s rank, but he is enormously popular within the Corps, and he is famous on Earth too, thanks to that stupid press tour a few years ago.”
Stark frowned. “I think you are right. By all accounts, he is not a fan of government authority. I have a report here from his political officer…” He sifted through a pile of data chips on his desk. “...well, it’s here somewhere. Anyway, he complains quite vociferously about Cain’s disrespect for him, and he urges that he be dismissed from the Corps.” He looked up from his desk. “Of course, that is out of the question right now. Cain is the hero of Carson’s World, and his service record is spotless.”
Dutton’s eyes met Stark’s. “Yes. We will have to do something about that, won’t we?” He put his glass down on the desk. “We need a plan to sabotage Cain’s career.”
Stark’s eyes widened. “Alex ran into him on Carson’s World. She mentioned he acted strangely around her. She thought it was odd, but she wasn’t able to get anywhere with him.” He hesitated, thinking. “But I know something she doesn’t. Erik Cain is involved with Alex’s long lost older sister, a doctor in the Corps. Isn’t that an interesting development?” His expression hardened. “I think I will assign this to our sexy little Alex. She may be able to find a way to undermine him, maybe through her sister.” His mind was moving quickly now. “Indeed, if we can get control of Cain, we can get to Holm too. Cain is his protégé, and from what I hear they are almost like father and son.”
“That is interesting. Very interesting.” Dutton’s eyes fell to the desk as he considered the possibilities.
“On the topic of Alex, do you think I should appoint our little vixen to Carillon’s Seat?” Stark had usually decided what to do before he asked for advice, but this time he was really not sure.
Dutton laughed. “It might be worth it just to see Number Ten go apoplectic.” He paused while Stark let out his own laugh. “I would say do it or leave the Seat vacant for now. You really can’t move Samuels up, and Number Five is stretched to manage his current duties.” He smiled wickedly. “Alex is a capable operative. She did very well to keep the CAC out of the facilities on Carson’s World. If Li An had any evidence other than her word…” He snickered as he said word. “…she could get all the other Powers lined up against us. We cannot allow that to happen.”
“No.” Stark’s tone became very serious. “The secrecy of the site is not what it was. If the other Powers have evidence of what is there we will face a serious crisis. We can overcome Li An’s unsubstantiated claims – she’s been lying to everyone for fifty years, and no one is going to believe her. But if she gets proof we are in serious trouble.”
“You’re planning to use Samuels to get the Marines out of there, right?” Dutton had been surprised when Stark told him he’d managed to flip a high-ranking Marine…and downright shocked when he found out just how high-ranking. It was the first time Alliance Intelligence had pulled that off, but it wasn’t for lack of trying. The Marines were a fiercely independent and tight-knit organization. Stark had never shared how he’d gotten to Samuels, and Dutton didn’t ask.
“Yes. We’ll let them stay a while. Samuels will order the facility sealed up. We’ll have a delay, but we’ll get them off-planet and move our own people back in.”
“How about the colonies?” Dutton reached out for his drink, slowly lifting it to his lips.
“I plan to move forward aggressively with bringing them in line.” He rubbed his temples as he spoke. “It is time they learned their place. But we will have to move carefully. The military will be resistant. Samuels will be a big help there, too.”
Dutton glanced at the chronometer. “You really need to get going.” He stood up, slowly and with significant effort. “So we’ve closed a chapter, but the book goes on.” He smiled at Stark. “Enjoy the victory, but not for too long. We have a lot of work to do.”
Stark looked over at his friend. “Yes, Jack. We have a lot of work to do.” He stood up and shook Dutton’s hand, and the two walked out of the office and down the hall. “A lot of work,” Stark repeated softly to himself.
Chapter 30
Shuttle Beta-3
Henderson Landing Field
Epsilon Eridani IV
Cain sat quietly in the shuttle’s small but comfortable compartment. This wasn’t one of the cattlewagons he was used to riding back from an operation. He wore a platinum star on each shoulder now, and a private shuttle – and a plush one at that – was one of the perks.
He was alone, the only sound the soft whine of the ship’s reactor as it powered up for liftoff. He looked out the window at the neat rows of shuttles, stretching almost as far as he could see. I Corps was staying on Carson’s World indefinitely to protect the alien artifact, and the supplies to maintain a small army had started rolling in.
If he’d been in any danger of sleeping regularly, this campaign would take care of that. He’d led 3,617 soldiers down to the reddish dust of Carson’s World. Only 1,397 of them were still operating under their own power when it was done, and some of these had arms in slings and legs in casts. Sarah and her people had worked wonders, saving over 1,000 seriously wounded Marines from his brigade. Most of those would eventually return to duty, though a few would probably be relegated to desk jobs or training positions. Still, 1,181 of his troops would never leave this hard won planet, more ghosts to weigh on his conscience.
He was waiting for Sarah. They both had six months’ leave and a decade and a half’s accumulated pay of which they’d spent only a fraction. They were going to enjoy some time together and see some of the colony worlds, and they were going to do it in style. Seven years crawling through the slums of Outer New York and sixteen more on the battlefield…it rated a vacation, and a damned good one at that.
Still, Cain had resisted. The Third Frontier War
was officially over, that much was true. The Treaty of Mars had been signed, and the Powers had ceased hostilities, at least for the moment. But the peace wouldn’t last, and Cain knew the smart move was to start getting ready for the next war.
But Holm had insisted that Erik and Sarah take some leave. He was very fond of them both, and he knew as well as Erik did that more trouble was coming. They would all face new dangers and challenges, and they needed to take whatever time they could have together, because the future offered no guarantees.
Holm thought it might be a good idea for Erik to take a little vacation right about now anyway. Cain had become somewhat controversial. His situation with Captain Warren had deteriorated considerably since he’d had the outraged political officer escorted from the alien facility. Warren had twice disobeyed Cain’s orders to stay away from the cave, insisting that he was not in the regular marine chain of command and therefore not bound by such directives. The first time, Cain had yelled a bit and had him escorted back to camp. The second time, he’d come very close to summarily executing the political officer. While the military code technically gave Cain that right under combat conditions, it would have created a colossal mess. Anne Delacorte had likely saved Warren’s life that day, for which Holm had rewarded her with her major’s circlets.
Warren had filed a whole stack of complaints against Cain, but Erik was the hero of the Carson’s World campaign and revered in the Corps, so he’d probably be safe from any serious consequences. Still, General Samuels was on his way to Carson’s World to review the security arrangements for the cave, and Holm would be just as happy if Erik was off somewhere recreating with his beautiful doctor instead of here to face the number two officer in the Corps.
He wondered how long the peace would last. The CAC and Caliphate armed forces had been shattered, but they would rebuild…the question was how quickly. But regardless, peace couldn’t last now. The alien artifact was thousands of years ahead of any technology man had dreamed of, and once the other Powers found out about it the Alliance would likely have a choice – share the amazing discovery or fight everyone else to hold on to it. Cain didn’t kid himself about which choice Alliance Gov would make.
He knew the government would crack down on the colonies too, and he was just as sure the frontier worlds would resist. Alliance Gov had ruled over meek, terrified masses for far too long; they did not understand the spirit of people who’d left everything behind to tame new worlds. The early colonists had braved hostile environments, unknown pathogens, and the harshness of the untamed wild. They had starved, frozen, and fought for every day of survival. They considered the worlds they had built to be theirs, and they were not about to let them become copies of the grotesque society they had left behind.
When matters reached the breaking point he didn’t know what would happen, but he was pretty sure it would be messy. He hoped his fellow Marines would refuse to fire on colonists; he knew he would disobey such an order. His worst nightmare was that some of his comrades chose one side and some the other. He’d face any horror before that…before he was forced to pull the trigger on another Marine. But that was tomorrow’s problem, and he’d face it when it came.
He’d come a long way, and though it felt like he and Sarah were riding off into the sunset, he knew better. This was a temporary respite, a break in the storm. Worse trials lay ahead, of that he was sure. They would be sorely tested in the years to come, and while he mourned for the peaceful existence he knew was impossible, he was thankful for what he did have. If his life was to be filled with unending struggles, he was profoundly grateful to have found something worth fighting for…worth dying for if need be. There was a time he had fought just as hard for a crust of bread…or for nothing at all.
Cain looked toward the edge of the poured ‘plast landing area, fringed with the patchy yellow fungus that grew in the dry red dirt of Carson’s World. He saw her first in his peripheral vision, that familiar mane of reddish-blonde hair blowing in the gentle breeze – even redder on Carson’s World where everything seemed to pick up a crimson tint. She wore a set of gray fatigues, her shiny new platinum eagles on the collar.
Most of all, he would fight for her, for a universe where they could live together one day without the pain and death and blood. He would fight to keep her safe, to insure that she never went through the suffering and misery she had survived so many years before.
He had been reborn, just as the Corps had promised when it plucked him from the executioner’s chair. And he would keep fighting until they’d forged a universe where the price of rebirth wasn’t war and killing and blood. He wasn’t sure he believed it was possible, but he would keep fighting until he knew, however long it took.
By Jay Allan
Tombstone (A Crimson Worlds Prequel)
Marines (Crimson Worlds I)
The Cost of Victory (Crimson Worlds II)
A Little Rebellion (Crimson Worlds III)
(December 2012)
The First Imperium (Crimson Worlds IV)
(March 2012)
The Last Veteran (Shattered States I)
The Dragon's Banner
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Appendices
Naval Combat Tactics
The stellar forces of the Superpowers are called navies and the vessels ships, but war in space bears little resemblance to the millennia of sea battles Earth fleets have fought. Space is three dimensional for one thing, and this vastly complicates the tactics employed. Earthly concepts like north and south are wholly inadequate to describe the action when two star fleets engage.
Perhaps most alien to a terrestrial perspective is the lack of friction and strong gravity. On Earth, when a vessel ceases acceleration, it stops, not immediately perhaps but soon after. In space it keeps going at the same speed forever, unless it hits something or gets caught in the gravitational pull of a planet or other body. The implications of this are considerable and often counter-intuitive to the Earthbound mind. For a vessel to achieve a high speed, it must accelerate for a considerable period, building its velocity as is does. Ships, therefore, do not have a maximum speed, save for that of light, which is imposed by the laws of the universe. The maneuverability of a vessel is instead determined by the thrust it can generate to quickly alter its velocity or change its course.
The thrust a ship can generate and employ is limited to the capacity of its reactors and engines. The ability of a ship's crew to endure the G forces caused by extreme acceleration is another limiting factor. Though crews wear pressure suits and vessels employ couches and tanks and various other devices to increase the amount of force a ship's crew can sustain, human endurance is the primary factor limiting acceleration rates on modern ships.
Because of these constraints, a ship may need to accelerate for days, or even weeks, to achieve a very high velocity, requiring the same amount of time to decelerate.
Velocity actually impairs maneuverability in many ways, since the available thrust is generally sufficient to make only moderate changes to a ship's trajectory in a short period. Thus, in some ways, projecting target areas for fast-moving ships is often easier than for ones traveling at lesser speeds, as the slower vessels are capable of more pronounced and sudden changes of direction. For this reason, fast-moving ships are highly susceptible to well-placed minefields, either already in place, or dropped by enemy vessels moving across the paths of the target ships (assuming that the intercepting ships can maneuver themselves accordingly).
A vessel moving at high speed is also limited to a brief window when it is close to its target, and then must spend hours, and sometimes days or weeks, decelerating to tu
rn and re-engage. Physical weapons systems are subject to the same realities as the ships themselves. Fast-moving ships can very effectively launch a quick attack on a stationary target like a space station or planet, but they need to plot a course more or less straight at the objective and fire their full salvoes at the optimum point. Once they pass the target, attacks with missiles and other physical weapons quickly become impractical. The missiles have the same initial velocity and vector as the launching platform, so once a vessel has passed its target at high speed, it becomes very difficult for ordnance to exert sufficient thrust to decelerate then reaccelerate back toward the target in a reasonable time period.
Forces of ships that approach each other at high velocities will generally exchange fire briefly before passing each other and quickly moving beyond effective range while they decelerate.
Fleets intending to fight protracted engagements are likely to do so at relatively slow speed, which allows them to remain in contact with each other for a longer period and react more effectively to each others' maneuvers. In theory, two forces could move at high speeds on parallel vectors and engage in a running fight, but this is very difficult to achieve, and so it is rare.
Ships at low velocities are able to perform evasive maneuvers more easily because they can change their direction in unpredictable ways. This can be counter-intuitive to the Earthbound mind.
