Crimson Worlds Collection III

by Jay Allan

  “Good.” Gilson’s voice was back to its normal, only moderately hostile, tone. “I want all your people ready to go on 48 hours’ notice. I mean pre-drop intravenous protocols, full equipment diagnostics. The works.” She stood at the head of the table, looking down at them all. “Understood?”

  “Yes, General.”

  “Very well.” She crossed her arms behind her back. “You all have a lot of work to do, so I suggest we don’t waste any time. Dismissed.”

  She watched them all snap to attention and file out of the room. Finally, the door swished shut behind them and she flopped down into her chair and sighed. They’re still more scared of me than whatever is waiting for us, she thought. But who, she wondered sadly, will keep me going?

  “As far as I see it, we have two possible destinations.” Admiral Harmon sat behind her desk, a large ’pad laying in front of her. She looked exhausted, her eyes red, her face pale. “Armstrong or Arcadia.” Gilson could tell she’d lost weight, a good 3 or 4 kilos, she guessed.

  Gilson sighed. “The usual suspects. I could have guessed.” She was sitting in one of the guest chairs opposite Harmon. “What about Columbia?”

  “I’ve managed to get our data more or less up to date from the Sandoval Commnet station.” Harmon’s voice was hoarse. Gilson could practically feel her comrade’s fatigue. “We’ve been able to confirm that Columbia was hit by 15,000-20,000 powered infantry.” She paused. “And no help seems to have reached the planet…certainly no Marines.”

  Gilson nodded sadly. She knew Columbia had the best of the native armies, but there was no way they’d beaten off that many troops armed and equipped to Marine standards. Not without some help from outside. The planet must have fallen by now.

  “General Cain led the expeditionary force to Armstrong,” Harmon continued. They’ve been engaged now for several months. The most recent communique suggests that they’ve fought the enemy to a stalemate.” She glanced down at the ’pad. “That data’s about two weeks old now.”

  “At least they have Commnet access. The enemy must have destroyed the stations when they invaded. Has the system been relieved?”

  Harmon shook her head. “Not really. Apparently, Admiral Jacobs escorted a medical team to Armstrong before he joined up with Garret’s main fleet. The enemy task force had withdrawn, so Jacobs wiped their satcom and dropped a new one for Cain’s people. It seems he also put the system’s Commnet back online.

  “So, Cain has Armstrong under control?”

  Harmon handed her the ’pad. “In a manner of speaking. At least as of two weeks ago.” Her voice was somber. “But his losses were off the charts. I don’t know if he’s got the manpower to win in the end, but it doesn’t look like the enemy has the strength to destroy him either.”

  Gilson’s eyes widened when she focused on the casualty figures. Cain’s army managed to hold out, but it had just about destroyed itself in the process. She was about to look back at Harmon when something caught her eye. “General McDaniels was killed.” She pursed her lips sadly, looking down at Harmon’s desk for a few seconds.

  “Yes, I saw that. I wasn’t sure if I should tell you.”

  “We’d have never won…survived…the First Imperium War without her. What she did with those Obliterator suits was nothing short of amazing.” She sat quietly, dry-eyed but somber. Gilson was an expert at holding back tears, the inevitable result of a lifetime spend mourning dead friends. Her thoughts drifted, memories of McDaniels floating through her mind. The two had become close during the war. She wasn’t the first friend Gilson had lost…and it didn’t seem likely she’d be the last. But they all hurt.

  “Cate…” Harmon spoke softly, her voice soothing. “I’m sorry. I know she was your friend.”

  Gilson’s eyes caught Harmon’s, and suddenly she got a grip on herself. She felt a flash of shame for allowing Harmon to comfort her. Camille Harmon was the last person in the fleet she should be burdening with her own grief. “Thank you, Camille.” She sucked in a deep breath and pulled her thoughts back to the matters at hand. “I’m OK. Let’s get back to work.”

  “You sure?”

  “Yes.” Gilson’s voice was firm again. “Definitely.” She glanced back down at the ’pad. “So, Cain’s in a precarious position, but he’s holding at the moment.”

  “That’s how I read it.” Harmon nodded. “Look, Cate, it doesn’t look like we’re going right into a fleet action, so this is going to be your call. I’m prepared to defer to your judgment on where to assault.”

  “But you think we should go to Arcadia, don’t you?” Gilson was paging through the stats on the ’pad.

  “Yes.”

  “Well, Cain’s certainly got a bigger army…though it looks like he’s facing stronger enemy forces too.” Her eyes scanned the glowing surface of the ’pad. “But I’m inclined to agree with you. General Holm is on Arcadia with Jim Teller’s force and a bunch of vets from the Second Frontier War.” My God, she thought, how did we get so desperate? The Commandant of the Corps leading a bunch of 80-something retirees into battle? How did it come to this?

  “So we’re agreed? We set course for Arcadia?”

  Gilson paused. “Yes, we agree.” She took a long, deep breath. “And the sooner we get there, the better.”

  Harmon nodded and activated her com. “Commander Ronson…” – her voice was firm and commanding, no trace of the warmth she’d shown Gilson – “…plot a course for Wolf 359, and advise the fleet we’ll be embarking in two hours.” That was a very tight schedule, but she suspected they didn’t have time to waste if they were going to save Holm and his people. “And make sure everything is strapped down. We’re going to be spending a lot of time in the couches.”

  That won’t be popular, she thought. But the one thing she was absolutely sure of was she didn’t give a damn.

  Chapter 5

  MCS John Carter

  Mars Orbit

  Sol System

  Roderick Vance sat in the large conference room just off John Carter’s bridge. He was exhausted, his face drawn and pale. His arms were extended out in front of him, resting on the silvery metal table. Things on Earth were rapidly spiraling out of control, despite his around the clock efforts to prevent all-out war. He’d been optimistic at first, confident he could act as an intermediary between the Powers, resolving their disputes or at least keeping things from going over the brink. But that was before Gavin Stark destroyed the Alliance Intelligence building and framed the CAC for the deed, throwing fuel on a barely-controlled fire. Vance had managed to mediate and prevent immediate declarations of war, but just barely.

  The increased tension made it essential for the CAC to lay low…and that wrecked the plan for Li An to destroy Gavin Stark’s clone production facility in South Dakota. Another attack blamed on the CAC would almost certainly lead to open war, regardless of Vance’s best diplomatic efforts. Grudgingly, he agreed to do the deed with Confederation forces. He knew it would gut his ability to mediate as a neutral power, but leaving Stark’s main base intact was unthinkable. Given time, the Alliance Intelligence mastermind would move the production facilities…and the million trained clone-soldiers already there, ready for action. Vance simply couldn’t allow that. As bad as the situation was between the Powers, in the final calculus, Gavin Stark was the biggest threat. Vance was sure of that.

  Now John Carter had returned, and the diplomatic communiqués were ripping back and forth. Vance’s ambassadors had managed to forestall the Alliance from declaring war against the Confederation immediately. He flooded Alliance Gov with evidence about Gavin Stark’s plot…and the impending economic catastrophe about to result from it. It would take time to assimilate and grasp the true meaning of the documents he provided – and Alliance Gov would be slow to trust his data – but Vance was sure the authorities in Washbalt would eventually comprehend and accept what he had done. Once they calmly reviewed and understood the depth of Stark’s activities they would accept what the Martians ha
d done and acknowledge that there was no hostile intent toward the Alliance. But calm consideration was in very short supply now, and Vance had no idea how long reasoned analysis would take. The Alliance had been the subject of two nuclear attacks in less than three weeks. The century-old peace on Earth had been shattered, and they had been the targets of both incidents. Thousands of Alliance citizens were dead, and hundreds of thousands had been affected by the massive fallout clouds from the Dakota blasts. Vance wondered if anyone in their position would be more receptive to explanations. He wondered if he would.

  Vance suspected the hesitancy to declare war on Mars had as much to do with the Confederation’s current naval superiority in the solar system as it did with any real patience or forbearance. The facts were stark…the Alliance had no way of projecting force to Mars, not without recalling the fleet. The Confederation had no possessions on Earth, nothing substantive the Alliance could reach without naval power. The Alliance could declare war, but that’s about all they could do. Wiser heads had prevailed, even if driven only by weakness, but Vance didn’t know how long that would last.

  He’d have preferred a real diplomatic connection instead of just the fruits of temporary tactical superiority, but he was willing to take what he could get for now. He was playing for time…if he could keep things from going entirely to hell, the Alliance leaders would realize what had truly happened. Maybe, just maybe, things would cool off then.

  The door slid open and interrupted Vance’s meditation. Duncan Campbell walked through holding a ’pad in his hand. He didn’t look happy.

  “More bad news?” Vance looked up, forcing back a sigh as he saw Campbell’s expression.

  “You could say that.” John Carter’s captain stopped at the head of the table and stared at Vance. “We just got a communique from Earth, sir. The Washbalt Stock Exchange is down 73%.” He seemed stunned at the news, a testament to how well Vance’s people – and Li An’s – had kept their dark secret. Campbell hadn’t been a party to any discussions of the impending collapse, so his surprise was total. “I should say it was down 73% when this was sent. That was barely 30 minutes after the markets opened for trading, and things were still dropping.” Campbell stared at Vance, a confused expression on his face. He’d expected the spymaster to be shocked, but Vance had hardly reacted to the news.

  When it rains, it pours, Vance thought grimly. He’d been anticipating this for months now, but it couldn’t have happened at a worse time. And it wasn’t going to stop in Washbalt. “I suspect we’ll be getting similar reports from the other Earth markets, Captain.” He paused, tapping at the ’pad in front of him, pulling up the pre-market indicators from Ares City. Down over 50% and still falling. He’d been waiting for an economic apocalypse for a long time. It had finally arrived.

  “President Oliver, I have all my people working on this, but we just don’t have any answers. Not yet.” Ryan Warren was trying to maintain his composure, but the president of the Alliance had been firing angry questions at him all morning. Warren had been the head of Alliance Intelligence for all of 13 days, and he’d inherited an organization that had lost half its people, all its leadership, and its main data archives. He was scrambling, trying to discover what was going on while he continued the investigations into the CAC and Martian attacks against the Alliance. He’d slept six hours, maybe seven total since he’d been sworn in as the new Number One. He didn’t know how long a human being could get by on stims alone, but he suspected he was going to find out in the days to come.

  “Mr. Warren, I appreciate that you have just stepped into your position, and under difficult circumstances, but I want to be sure you understand the enormous gravity of what is happening.” Oliver hadn’t gotten much sleep in recent nights either, and it showed in his raspy voice and bloodshot eyes.

  Warren almost rolled his own eyes, but he caught himself. Shut up, he thought…just listen. Francis Oliver was a vindictive and petty man to begin with, and now he was scared to death. Tread carefully…very carefully. Gavin Stark had been deeply entrenched, his position almost certainly protected by secret files and intelligence reports on everyone of significance in the government. Warren had been thrust up a dizzying number of echelons through the bureaucracy…20 years of advancement in a day. Having your 25 most direct superiors killed in a single instant was an unmatched example of career development, but it tended to leave one scrambling to catch up with things. Warren lacked the store of blackmail he would have procured over decades of normal advancement. He was Number One, but he unprepared and poorly equipped. He commanded a wounded animal, and his grasp on the Chair was tenuous at best. He’d have to take however much shit Francis Oliver sent downhill toward him. At least for now.

  “The economy is completely unraveling. For no apparent reason. All financial markets are at a standstill. There are no buyers for any asset classes. The effective market value of all financial instruments is zero.” Oliver’s voice was loud, but shaky and hoarse. He had no idea what was going on or what to do about it, that much was clear to Warren. The Alliance’s president was a bully at heart, and he didn’t function well when he felt out of control. “Do you understand the implications of this? We have no idea what is causing the crisis. None at all! I need to know what is going on, and I need to know now!”

  “Yes, Mr. President.” Warren wasn’t sure how many ways he could say the same thing. His people had no idea what was causing the economic crisis. The more time he could spend working on the problem instead of sitting there as the president’s punching bag, the sooner he would be able to uncover some real information. But he reminded himself again he had to tread carefully. Oliver was extremely dangerous in his current unpredictable state of mind. Gavin Stark had easily handled the president, but Warren didn’t presume that he was a match for his old boss. He was still struggling to consolidate control and keep the agency operating…and Francis Oliver had buried his own share of bodies in almost 30 years of uninterrupted rule. “With your permission, sir, I will get back to headquarters and put together an updated report for you.”

  Headquarters…that’s a joke, Warren thought. Alliance Intelligence’s HQ was a radioactive pit, and he had people scattered all over the government zone, occupying surplus offices and hotel suites. Most of the agency’s top experts were dead, their ashes lying in the wreckage of their obliterated building. Warren had been forced to round up replacements from stations all over the world. He’d managed to build a respectable second string in Washbalt but at the cost of gutting efficiency elsewhere. It would be years before Alliance Intelligence matched its former capabilities. It was hardly an ideal situation for an agency accustomed to being the best in the world and working from a highly secure, fortress-like building.

  “Yes, I want you to stay on top of your people.” Oliver’s chair creaked slightly as he leaned back and took a deep breath. “I must have information as soon as possible, Mr. Warren.” He stared at the spy with a withering intensity. “I’ll expect you at 6pm with an update.”

  “Yes sir.” Warren turned and walked through the door into the outer office. What an ass, he thought…what miracle does he expect me to come up with in five hours?

  “Sir, we have received a Code 3 transmission for you. It is in your private encryption and marked extremely urgent.” Campbell’s voice was loud in Vance’s earpiece. He reached up and tapped the comlink, lowering the volume slightly.

  “Send it to me here, Captain.” What now, he thought, leaning back and rolling his aching neck around on his shoulders…what else could go wrong?

  “Yes, sir. At your station.”

  Vance slid his hand into his pocket and retrieved a small data crystal, slipping it into the port on the table next to the embedded ’pad. It contained the decryption codes for his own data protection protocol. The screen danced around wildly for a few seconds as the algorithm worked on the message, turning it from an impossible jumble into concise, readable text. When it had finished, a short note appeared on the ot
herwise black screen.

  Mr. Vance:

  As a result of our continuing efforts to review raw intelligence files forwarded to us by CAC C1, we have discovered the following.

  Alliance Intelligence Number One, Gavin Stark had several interactions with Number Three, Alexandra Linden approximately two months ago. Until we discovered this surveillance report, Ms. Linden’s whereabouts had been unknown for several years, and we considered her to be missing in action.

  After a complete review of all available intelligence data, we feel reasonably confident that Gavin Stark sent Ms. Linden back to the planet Armstrong with orders to assassinate Alliance General Erik Cain.

  We cannot be certain about this analysis. There is a large period of time prior to these interactions for which Ms. Linden’s whereabouts and activities are still unknown. However, we have assigned the highest confidence level to our conclusion. It is extremely likely that General Cain is currently the target of an Alliance Intelligence assassination warrant.

  I have taken no action and await your instructions on this matter.

  - Simonsen, Lance, Deputy Director Martian Intelligence

  Vance felt his blood run cold as he read the communique. By the time he reached the end, he had no doubts. The analysis was correct. He knew he had to do something. Things were going very badly out in the colonies. Stark’s Shadow Legion troops had already sewn up most of the important Alliance colony worlds. The Marines were heavily outnumbered everywhere, unable even to deploy forces to most of the occupied planets.

  Vance had planned to dispatch Confederation troops to support the Alliance forces, but the crisis on Earth made that problematic. If Alliance Gov thought the Confederation was moving against its colonies, no amount of diplomacy would prevent all-out war. He reluctantly put a hold on sending the troops.