Crimson Worlds Collection III

by Jay Allan

  Cain pressed the button and the hatch slid open. He took a step and stopped. He turned again, looking back one last time. “Elliott…” His tone had changed. The terrible voice of retribution was gone for an instant, replaced by halting words, choked with emotion and sadness. “If you make it out of here, do something for me.”

  “Anything, Erik.” Breyer was barely able to croak out the words.

  “Tell Sarah I love her.” He paused and took a deep, rasping breath. “Tell her I loved her right up to the end. That wherever I am, I always will.”

  “I will, Erik.” Breyer stood and stared at Cain, his body shaking with emotion. “I promise.”

  Cain nodded once. Then he turned and was gone.

  “All ships, best possible acceleration.” Campbell sat on John Carter’s stricken flag bridge, staring at the scattered cluster of small icons that represented his fleet. He didn’t have a single undamaged ship left, and he’d left half his fleet behind, pushing ahead with those vessels that still possessed significant thrust capacity.

  He’d thought John Carter was one of the cripples, but Engineer Vandebaran and his people had worked miracles. The fires were all out, and the ship’s vital systems were more or less stable. The damage control teams had even managed to get thrust up to 7g, though Vandebaran had urged Campbell to stay below 5.5 except in a desperate situation.

  Campbell had been tempted to ask how much more desperate things could be, but he’d held his tongue. His engineer had given him more than he’d dared to expect, and he was grateful for the herculean effort.

  He was enjoying a brief moment of relief from the crushing pressure of 5.5g acceleration. John Carter was about to begin decelerating as it approached the coordinates Vance had provided, and the ship would spend the next few minutes in freefall before engaging the engines again.

  Campbell stared straight ahead, watching the disordered cluster of icons that designated his battered fleet. The main viewscreen was out, and it wasn’t a top repair priority, so he’d been making do with the smaller screen on his workstation. He was trying to concentrate but all could think about was Gavin Stark.

  He’d just watched thousands of his people die, good friends and old comrades among them. Their blood was on Stark’s hands, and Campbell knew millions of others were dead through the enemy’s machinations. Gavin Stark had become the greatest mass murderer in human history, a significant feat, Campbell thought, considering some of those who had come before him.

  Duncan Campbell wasn’t easily excitable, tending to embrace a stoic outlook on life. But the mass death of war was all around, and Stark bore the guilt for all of it. The destruction of the Martian domes, the millions dead in the fighting on Earth, the deadly struggle between the Alliance Marines and Stark’s Shadow Legions. It was all his doing. Stark had to die.

  Campbell took a deep breath, watching the seconds pass slowly on the chronometer. Ben Jennings was out at Stark’s base, with a damaged Torch transport and Erik Cain and a handful of Marines. It wasn’t a very impressive force to confront the greatest evil humanity had ever faced, and Campbell was willing his ships onward, as if his thoughts could alter the physics of space travel and get him there faster.

  He turned toward Commander Linken. “Bring the fleet to yellow alert. I want all ships ready for action as soon as we reach Stark’s hideout.” He turned his eyes back toward the screen in front of him. “Because we are going to blow that base and the entire asteroid it’s built on to atoms.”

  “Yes, Admiral.”

  Campbell stared silently ahead. The blood of Mars was calling to him, and he intended to answer. Gavin Stark would pay.

  “All weapons, prepare to fire on my command.” Francisco Mondragon’s voice echoed through every com unit in the fleet. His ships were completing their deceleration and taking position all around Stark’s asteroid base. If it hadn’t been for Cain and his Marines, he would have opened fire already.

  “All weapons report ready, sir.” Commander Wendell’s tone was grim, feral. Everyone in the fleet knew their target. They carried the shades of thousands of dead with them into this fight, millions…Marines, naval crew, civilians. Against all odds, Erik Cain and his people had tracked down Gavin Stark, and now it was time for their hated enemy to die.

  “Any energy readings from the base’s weapons systems, Commander?”

  “No, sir.” Wendell’s eyes flashed to his screen, confirming the readings he’d just checked. “All weapons systems inactive. No communication from the base. Nothing. They’re just sitting there.”

  “Open a channel.” Mondragon knew Cain and his tiny group of Marines were probably dead, but he had to be sure before he opened fire.

  “It’s ready, sir. On your com station.”

  He took a deep breath. “This is Admiral Francisco Mondragon, Alliance navy.” His voice was dark, threatening. He didn’t want to leave the slightest doubt he was completely willing to blow everyone on that station to hell. “You will surrender at once, or we will open fire. You have no chance. You are surrounded and hopelessly outgunned.”

  He had a sour look on his face. He wanted to kill these bastards, not capture them. He wanted it so badly he could taste it. But he couldn’t give up on Cain and his people. Not until he knew for sure they were dead. He waited for a response, the seconds passing by with aching slowness.

  Finally, the com burst to life. “Admiral Mondragon, this is General James Teller.” The bridge erupted into loud cheers. “We are surprised to see you, Admiral. Damned happy, but surprised.”

  “We’re here with Admiral Garret’s complements, General. Do I understand you are in control of the station?” He was shocked to hear a friendly voice at the other end of the link, but he tried to hide it the best he could.

  “Not exactly, Admiral.” The stress in Teller’s voice was more obvious than it had been at first. “We’ve taken the control room, but I’m afraid we’re under siege and outnumbered.”

  Mondragon snapped his head toward Wendell. “Commander, order Major Winston’s Marines to the launch bays at once.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Tell them Generals Cain and Teller need them.” A little extra kick never hurt, he thought.

  Mondragon turned back to his com. “General Teller, we’ve got three companies of Marines on their way to their assault shuttles now.” He paused, a dark smile slipping onto his lips. “May I assume that might address your problem?”

  “Indeed it would, Admiral.” He could hear the relief in Teller’s voice. “Indeed it would.”

  “Admiral, I’ve got a strange reading.” It was Wendell, and he was turned around, staring over at Mondragon. “It’s strange…intermittent energy readings. It might be a stealth ship taking off from the station.”

  “Detach 2nd Squadron at once. They are to pursue and destroy that vessel.”

  “Yes, sir.” Wendell turned back toward his station.

  “No!” It was Teller on the com. “Do not destroy that ship, Admiral. I repeat, do not destroy that ship. General Cain is aboard. He chased Gavin Stark onto the vessel.”

  Mondragon snapped his head around. “Belay that last order. Second Squadron is to pursue the ship and maintain contact, but they are NOT to engage without my specific command.”

  “Yes, Admiral.”

  “And launch the Marines as soon as they are ready.”

  He turned back to his com. “Help is on the way, General. And we’ve got ships chasing General Cain. Mondragon out.”

  He flipped off the com and stared at the screen. His 2nd Squadron ships were already altering course, angling to follow Stark.

  My God, Mondragon thought, the meaning of what Teller had told him just sinking in. Erik Cain is on that ship, alone, facing Stark and his whole crew. God help him, the admiral thought grimly. He looked over at Wendell. “Tell Captain Janus I will skin him alive if he loses that ship.

  Chapter 27

  AS Pershing

  Orbiting Columbia

  Colum
bia, Eta Cassiopeiae II

  Elizabeth Arlington sat on her flag bridge, trying to follow events on the ground, but her mind kept drifting down to sickbay. News of the attempted assassination had spread like wildfire through the fleet, and everyone was waiting to see if Augustus Garret would pull through, or if the navy would lose its beloved commander less than a year after the Corps mourned General Holm.

  Garret’s naval crews were veterans, an elite group of warriors almost unmatched in human history. But now they were distraught, and they walked through the corridors of the fleet’s ships like zombies, unable to focus on anything but the fight going on to save the admiral.

  Arlington was expecting to hear from General Gilson any minute, declaring the battle for Columbia won. The fleet and the Marines had blasted the disorganized remnants of the Shadow Legions forces with a massive nuclear barrage, and Gilson’s people went in immediately, smashing into the wreckage of the enemy army and slaughtering Stark’s soldiers wholesale.

  As always, the enemy refused to surrender, and the last surrounded remnants were killed by their command teams, their own suits injecting fatal doses of barbiturates into their systems. But this time Stark’s ruthless directive failed to implement completely, and almost a hundred prisoners had been taken, their suits too badly damaged by the severity of the nuclear exchanges to complete their deadly tasks.

  The prisoners would be useful, she thought, at least for the research effort. But she found it difficult to give a shit if any of the Shadow Legion soldiers survived. She knew they were clones, created as slaves and conditioned to fight. She understood that their free will had been subverted. They’d been as wronged as anyone in the fleet or the Corps, worse in some ways, but Arlington was only human, and she’d seen too much death and destruction to overlook what they had done, voluntarily or not. She knew it wasn’t fair, but that was how she felt.

  “The perimeter ships are reporting a contact, sir, inbound from warp gate 2.” The communications officer stared back at her screen. “It’s a Martian Torch-class transport, Admiral. And it is initiating communications.”

  “To my station here, Commander.” She flipped on the com unit. “Martian vessel, please identify.”

  “This is Captain Horatio Simpton from the MCS Mirage. I have an urgent communique for Admiral Augustus Garret from Roderick Vance.”

  Arlington felt a stab of pain at the mention of Garret. She sighed softly. “Captain Simpton, I’m afraid Admiral Garret has been wounded and is unavailable. I am Admiral Elizabeth Arlington. How can I assist you?”

  There was a pause. No doubt, she thought, the news of Garret being wounded was a shock.

  “Admiral, Mr. Vance wishes to advise that matters on Earth are entirely out of his hands, and he fears that Shadow Legion forces will assume full control of the planet unless your fleet can intervene in some way. Nuclear war is imminent, and Gavin Stark’s Shadow Legion soldiers are set to launch their final conquest, under the command of a Rafael Samuels.”

  Vance’s intel wasn’t entirely accurate. The Rafael Samuels on Earth was a clone of the original. The real Samuels had been executed by Stark. But no one outside of Stark’s high command knew that.

  Arlington felt a wave of anger. She was fleet, not a Marine, but a traitor was a traitor, and she felt the same rage at Samuels’ mention as her friends in the Corps. She was sure at once; they couldn’t let it happen. Not without trying to stop it. She knew with all her heart that Augustus Garret wouldn’t sit idle while Earth fell under Stark’s thumb.

  “Captain Simpton, I am patching in Admiral Harmon, who is in acting command of the fleet.” She turned toward the com station. “I need Admiral Harmon on this line. Now.”

  The officer acknowledged, and a few seconds later Harmon was connected.

  “Elizabeth, what can I do for you?” Her voice was somber, perhaps even more than usual, Arlington thought.

  I have Captain Simpton on the line. He brings a dispatch from Roderick Vance.”

  “Admiral Harmon, my compliments to you. I bring word from the Sol System, and I’m afraid it is not good. Mars has been devastated by an attack from Stark’s forces, and Earth is on the brink of nuclear holocaust. The Martian fleet has engaged the Shadow Legion forces and won a Pyrrhic victory, one that has left it combat ineffective. And as soon as the Superpowers destroy themselves, Rafael Samuels will emerge with Stark’s Shadow Legion forces and take total control. Once they are deployed throughout the globe it will be almost impossible to root them out.”

  Harmon was silent for a few seconds. “That’s a lot to absorb, Captain.” Her voice had changed, still grim, but now touched with sadness, sympathy. Camille Harmon was hard, some would say unfeeling, but that wasn’t a fair assessment. She could feel her own pain, and she sympathized deeply with the suffering of others as well, perhaps even more so than most.

  “Elizabeth, what is General Gilson’s status?”

  “I am expecting a formal declaration of the cessation of hostilities any moment, Admiral.” Arlington glanced down at her readouts. “I don’t have it yet, but I believe combat operations have ceased.”

  “Captain, you say the Martian fleet engaged Stark’s ships?”

  “Yes, Admiral Harmon. By all accounts, the battle was a holocaust, with both sides virtually destroyed. Unconfirmed reports suggest that Admiral Liang was killed.

  There was another pause, longer than the last. Finally, Harmon spoke. “Elizabeth, I’m going to take my task force back to Earth immediately. You stay and collect the Marine forces as quickly as possible.” There was a touch of concern in Harmon’s voice. It was clear she wasn’t comfortable splitting up the fleet, even with the reports that Stark’s force had been badly mauled.

  “Yes, Admiral.” Arlington hesitated. Then she added, “It’s what Admiral Garret would do, Camille.”

  Both officers knew Garret would have told them to use their own judgment and not to try and figure out what he would have done. But that was easy to say and far more difficult to do. Both officers had come up under Garret, served in various ranks in his famous campaigns. He was a living legend to both of them, just as he was to the lowest-ranking crew member hauling crates in the cargo hold. They were both gifted officers, well-respected in their own rights. But neither of them could escape the pull of Garret’s brilliance.

  “I want you to be careful. We still don’t know what else Stark has out there.” They’d all underestimated their deadly adversary, and Harmon was determined never to do it again. “I’m leaving Mike Jacobs and his people under your command. Put them on picket duty while you load up Gilson’s people. Then follow me to Earth.”

  “Yes, Admiral Harmon.” Arlington was already doing mental calculations, trying to figure out how quickly she could load Gilson’s Marines.

  “Captain Simpton, would you care to accompany my task force back to the Sol system? I’m afraid we’ll slow you down, but it will be a lot safer.”

  “Thank you, Admiral Compton, but I’d better get back at my best possible speed and report to Mr. Vance. He will want to know you are coming.” He paused for a second. “And also about Admiral Garret.”

  “Very well, Captain. Good luck to you and your crew. Give Mr. Vance my compliments, and tell him we will be there at our best speed.”

  Sarah was bent over Garret, her fingers deep in his chest cavity, her once-white gloves completely red with blood. It was the rusty orange color of substitute oxygenation fluid, not the bright scarlet of natural blood. Garret had lost all his own blood, and about 20 liters of the replacement too.

  She’d been working on him for 18 straight hours, and she’d thought she lost him twice. But the Alliance’s celebrated fleet admiral was tough as nails, and he simply refused to die. And Sarah Linden refused to let him.

  “I’m ready to remove the heart. Initiate medpod maintenance of blood flow and respiration.”

  “All systems ready,” the AI responded. “All circulatory function now transferred to remote system.”
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  Sarah sighed, glancing across the pod at Alicia. She’d called for her assistant as soon as she saw Garret’s condition. The two were a strong team, and Garret needed every edge he could get right now.

  She reached her fingers around the tattered wreck of Garret’s heart. She’d harvested cells earlier, and Garret’s replacement was already growing in the lab. It was only a few hours old, still an invisible cluster of new cells. It would be two weeks before it was ready, and until then the medpod would have to keep the admiral alive, pumping his blood and forcing air into his tortured lungs.

  Sarah had considered implanting a temporary mechanical heart, but she’d nixed the plan when she got a good look at the damage in Garret’s chest. There was no way he could take an artificial unit, not until she was able to repair a lot of the injury. So she decided to keep him in a medically-induced coma in the medpod until his new heart was ready.

  She looked up at the monitor, reading the vital signs as the machine took over for Garret’s cardiovascular system. She was nervous, worried about how his savaged body would handle the mechanical pumps that would keep him alive until she implanted his new heart. The numbers looked good, she thought, feeling a tiny burst of exhilaration. Augustus Garret wasn’t out of the woods, not by a long shot. But he wasn’t dead yet, either, and considering the shape he’d been in when she first walked into the operating theater, that alone was cause for optimism.

  “Alright, Alicia…let’s see if we can rejuvenate some of this lung tissue.” She took a deep breath. They’d been at it for hours, but she knew there was still a long road ahead. And she wasn’t stepping away from the medpod until she was convinced Garret was stabilized. “OK, let’s go. Left lung first…”

  “General Tyler, I want to thank you for your support and for the bravery and skill of your soldiers.” Cate Gilson was standing in the field, once a lush green meadow, but now a barren, dusty wasteland. She was watching her Marines boarding the transports as she said her goodbyes to Tyler. “We wouldn’t leave so soon if it wasn’t urgent.” Elizabeth Arlington’s communique had been a shock. Part of the fleet had already left for the Sol system to try and deal with the growing apocalypse there, and Arlington’s task force was following, as soon as Gilson could get her Marines, what was left of them at least, loaded up and ready to go.