The Black Flag (Crimson Worlds Successors Book 3)

by Jay Allan

  “Let’s get it done, Captain,” he said, his voice colder, harder than it had been. He ached to go back to that time so long ago, but he knew it was gone…and that there was darkness and death, a war—no, a crusade—to fight before such a time could come again. If it ever could.

  “Let’s get back to the Nest with that ship and our prisoners. It’s time to learn how to beat these bastards. How to wipe them from the galaxy like the disease they are.

  * * * * *

  “I think I should recall the fleet. That ship has to be Black Eagles. I’m not sure what would be worse, the entire navy being destroyed by it…or winning the fight and bringing the wrath of the Eagles down on us.” Armando DeSilva was edgy.

  No, Asha Mazeri thought, he was downright scared. The man was a political mastermind, adept at manipulating polls, bartering with allies and rivals, surviving political storms like cockroaches endured nuclear devastation. But beneath it all, he was a gutless fool. He had his purposes, but he’d never serve the Black Flag for long. Perhaps she might even take his place and rule Atlantia openly, instead of from the shadows.

  “You will not recall the fleet.”

  “I remind you, I am the President of Atlantia, Minister Mazeri, not you, and I will make such decisions.”

  She was amused at how pride and arrogance had the ability to momentarily drive away fear. DeSilva’s passing attempt to assert his authority was…how should she put it? Cute, she might say, if the Atlantian strongman didn’t annoy the hell out of her so much.

  “I am only here to advise you, Mr. President.” A lie, of course. “But I must advise you that my superiors are not at all patient, and they will not look kindly on anything that could be misinterpreted as cooperation with the Black Eagles.”

  “Cooperation?” DeSilva’s voice was shrill, shocked at the suggestion.

  “General Darius Cain is an Atlantian, is he not?”

  “He is not!” the politician explained. Then, as she stared at him with a harsh look on her face: “Well, only by birth. I remind you he is an outlaw here, condemned in absentia and sentenced to death. If he returns here he will be apprehended and taken at once to the scaffold.”

  “If he returns here, Mr. President, it is likely to be at the head of his army of mercenaries. Not a terribly appealing image from your point of view, or that of your political allies. I doubt your armed forces are up to defeating the Black Eagles.”

  “The Black Eagles,” DeSilva exclaimed. Then he stammered, “We can’t…not possibly. That is why we submitted to your…organization. For your protection.”

  “And yet, you defy my requests. You argue with me over nonsense, to try to assert your independence, which you yielded long ago. I listen to your foolishness, Armando, and I allow a certain amount of it, but you would be well-advised to remember that your power base, the money that built your political machine, the bribes and blackmail, the force where necessary, all came from my, organization, as you put it. The Black Flag offers many strengths, many advantages, but it is not forgiving of insubordination. Or of failure.”

  She paused and then she stared at him coldly. “You would be well-advised to remember that. You would not care to find out what happens to those who fail us, much less those who allow disloyalty to color their actions.”

  DeSilva looked like he was about to wet himself. In fact, Mazeri wasn’t entirely sure he hadn’t. She’d been taught by her superiors the incredible power of well-directed fear, and she’d never been disappointed in its effectiveness. True courage was a rare thing, and most people could be easily intimidated.

  “I…I…I did not…mean anything, Minister. I…ask for your understanding.”

  “Of course, Armando. After all, we are friends, are we not?” She smiled, though she suspected he completely misunderstood the meaning of the gesture. “Now, listen carefully. That ship is dangerous, and it must be driven away. It was clearly here spying on us, and it cannot be allowed to remain. If the Eagles wanted to attack your fleet or planet, they would have done so already. In all likelihood, that battleship could obliterate your miserable excuse for a fleet if it came to a fight, but it will not. They will pull back at your approach, because their mission is information gathering and not an assault.”

  She paused, staring at the semi-confused president of Atlantia. “Now, do you want the information they take with them to be that Atlantia is craven and too cowardly to face invaders? Or that your forces responded aggressively, that your world’s defenses are crack and on high alert?”

  DeSilva was quiet for a moment. Then he said, scraping up every bit of courage he could muster, “You are correct, of course, Minister. The fleet will continue on its mission.”

  She wondered whether he’d truly understood, or if he’d just caved into her demands. Then she decided she just didn’t care.

  “I am pleased you agree, Mr. President.” Her return to the proper form of address was her way of rewarding him, treating him as an ally rather than a petulant child. Still, even as she felt satisfaction from effectively controlling her charge, she began to wonder again how useful he truly was. Atlantia had been in the fold for more than two years, and everywhere, the secret police and other enforcement operations had clamped down hard. Those forces were full of Black Flag operatives, loyal to her, and not DeSilva.” Loyal to me as long as they fear me, she reminded herself. Did control of Atlantia still require the use of a native politician? Or were the vestiges and the facsimile of republican government no longer needed?

  Perhaps she would contact her superiors and request permission to eliminate DeSilva…and take his place. Atlantia was a pleasant place, one she’d be happy to rule.

  She smiled again at DeSilva, an expression that was the image of friendship and camaraderie.

  Yes, perhaps it is time…

  Chapter 7

  Marine Headquarters

  Planet Armstrong, Gamma Pavonis III

  Earthdate: 2321 AD (36 Years After the Fall)

  Erik Cain stepped off the shuttle and looked out over the tarmac of Armstrong’s massive landing field. The planet was a hive of activity, every manner of preparation for war underway, but Cain couldn’t help but see the place as a shadow of what it had once been. The Alliance had been destroyed long ago, and along with its corrupt government was lost the revenue source that had supported the Corps. The Marines had survived, continued on, funded by what revenues they were able to produce on Armstrong, plus the support of the few worlds that saw the advantages of having a strong force ready to defend humanity. Still, they were a shadow of the massive military machine Cain had led into battle decades earlier, alongside Elias Holm and the rest of the officers with whom he’d had the honor to serve.

  Cain hadn’t seen Armstrong in years, yet even when he’d last been there, the decay had set in. Now, at least, many of the massive defenses were being restored, and even from the concrete of the spaceport’s main field, he could see groups of recruits drilling in the open fields near the training center. Those new Marines would not be the equal of those he’d led so many years before, not for many years, at least, but there were still old veterans to strengthen the ranks. Old Marines had been returning in droves, according to the reports he’d received, and even sixty and seventy year old sergeants were still mostly fit for field duty, courtesy of the rejuv treatments they’d all received.

  He turned and smiled at his companion. Sarah Linden, or Cain, depending on which world’s customs were applied to the married couple, was not only his wife, she’d been his soulmate for half a century. They’d been through hell and back, separately and together, and she’d endured the fifteen years of his captivity, thinking he was dead. Now, he knew she was trying to deal with the fact that she’d allowed herself to give up on him, when all the while he’d been alive and a prisoner. And enduring a hell she could barely imagine.

  She couldn’t imagine it. No one could. Cain had done all he could to hide the worst of what he’d gone through from his wife, from everyone. Bu
t Sarah had rebuilt his ravaged body, every bit of it, and however much he’d withheld the pain he’d been through, he was pretty sure she had a good idea of it.

  “So, is it like you remember it?” she asked softly. Sarah had been back to Armstrong in the years since he’d vanished. She’d even moved there after the boys were out of the house. He understood. He didn’t think he could have endured the house they’d built together without her either.

  Armstrong had been the Marines headquarters for almost fifty years, ever since the Corps had sided with the Alliance’s colonies in their struggle against the central government. The entire mess had been resolved, more or less, after considerable fighting. The colonies had secured a limited level of home rule, subject to certain obligations to the Alliance, and the Corps had decided it could no longer maintain its headquarters on Earth. Armstrong had been sparsely populated then, and almost entirely undeveloped, but the Marines had built it into a prosperous world, one that had managed to endure the decline of the Corps after the Fall, at least to an extent.

  “It’s familiar…and different too.” He turned his head, looking around. He saw the buildings he remembered, and a few he didn’t. And in the shadows, he saw something else. Ghosts. The men and women he’d served with, the ones who’d died at his side, fighting with him or under his command. He was happy to be on a world he’d considered one of his homes, but the looming war brought back memories he’d have gladly left forgotten. He was deeply, truly sick of war, and he longed desperately for the one thing he knew he couldn’t have, that he wondered if he could ever attain…peace.

  “We had to make a lot of changes, repurpose some of the factories to produce goods we could sell. We didn’t have as many Marines to take care of anymore, anyway, and we needed the revenue. It wasn’t easy, but we managed to do enough to keep the Corps alive.”

  “You did an amazing job. Amazing. I’m so sorry I wasn’t here for you. Here to help you. To be with you.”

  “You’ve always been with me, Erik. Every moment, wherever you were. Nothing can separate us. Haven’t you learned that by now?”

  He turned and smiled, but before he could answer, another voice rang through the clear morning.

  “Erik Cain, welcome to Armstrong.” Cate Gilson walked over to Cain and gave him an enthusiastic hug. “Salutes be damned, old friend. Welcome home.”

  “Thank you, Cate. It’s good to be back.” And it was, at least in many ways. It was bittersweet too, but that kind of thinking led down a path he didn’t have the time or energy to explore now. “It’s good to see you again too.” He’d had his first reunion with Gilson back on Titan, when the major players who would stand against the Black Flag had gathered to plot strategy. That meeting had been productive, at least as much as it could be for an outnumbered and outmatched group of worlds struggling to face an enemy they didn’t understand, but it had also been a reunion of sorts, the chance for Cain to see the small group of people who were truly important to him. He was still infirmed then, confined to a powered chair, but the camaraderie of that gathering had restored a part of the strength he had lost. He wasn’t sure he could be again what he had before, the tireless Marine general, struggling against any enemy, any odds. But he was ready to try.

  “Come, both of you.” Gilson slid over and hugged Sarah too. “I have everything ready for you. Your apartments were too small, Sarah, so I moved you back to your old quarters. I know you didn’t want to be there when…” She paused, a look of pain passing over her face. “Well, you’re both back again, so I thought you should have your old rooms.” She paused and then, clearly trying to pull away from the darker memories she’d touched on, she added, “But don’t worry…I’ve had them updated and redecorated. You’ll feel like you’re in a palace.”

  “Thank you, Cate. I appreciate that. But you’ve seen some of the billets I’ve drawn over the years.” His eyes fixed on Gilson, and he noticed the same thing he had on Titan. She had aged, more even than he’d have expected in the seventeen years he was gone. It was the stress, he knew, the pressure of being one of the last of the old guard, fighting the endless battle to keep the Corps alive in a universe that only appreciated it when an enemy threatened. He knew he’d endured the most, his seemingly endless years of torture and captivity beyond his ability to even describe. But Sarah and Cate and the others had all suffered in their own ways. He promised himself he would remember, that he would not allow himself to feel sorry for sufferings, for what he’d been through.

  “Let’s go, we’ll get both of you settled in, and later we can have dinner and a long talk. I know there’s work to do, and hours before we sleep, so to speak, but I think we can spare one evening, don’t you? One night to catch up, maybe tell a few war stories from the past?”

  Cain smiled, and then he flashed a glance to Sarah. “I think we’d both enjoy that, Cate. I think we’d enjoy it a lot.”

  * * * * *

  “We’ve recalled everyone we could reach, Erik. Almost ninety percent of those who were…free…agreed to return to active duty, though we had no legal hold on them to compel them to, as we would have had back in Alliance days.”

  Cain looked across the table at Gilson. Their working lunch was nothing but a few sandwiches and the like, but after fifteen years of eating swill that would give a goat’s stomach flops—and often nothing at all—Cain still hadn’t quite shaken the wondrous effect real food had on him. He remembered years of working meals, when the subject at hand had so distracted him he forgot to eat so much as a bite, but now he just wondered what the hell had been wrong with him, and he grabbed another sandwich.

  “Ninety percent is extraordinary, Cate,” Cain said, his mouth still a bit full. “It was never a legal mandate that brought our people back. You always knew that, as did I, and here is the proof.” His mind was still on one part of what she’d said. “What did you mean by ‘free?’”

  “Well, our people live on dozens of worlds, almost all of them different nations now, and with the planets of Occupied Space in a panic about the Black Flag, many have drafted citizens to bolster their defenses. Of course, many of them sought out any veterans they had among their populations, and Marines retirees are always at the top of lists like that.” She paused. “Then, of course, there’s your son.” She hesitated again for a few seconds. “Did you realize how many of Darius’s senior officers and commanders are veterans of the Corps?”

  “No,” Cain said, sounding thoughtful. “I can’t say I really did. I met a few familiar faces while I was there…and, of course, he’s got Tom Sparks heading up his R&D.” The scientist, formerly a Marine, now a Black Eagle was the smartest son of a bitch Cain had ever met. Perhaps no man had contributed more toward the Corps victories and survival than the man who’d put leading edge weapons in their hands. And, certainly, no one had gleaned more from the wreckage of First Imperium tech than Sparks.

  “He’s got at least seven hundred of our people…our former people, I guess…and maybe more. That’s only what I could glean from the limited access I have to his records. Darius is pretty tight-lipped about things.”

  That was putting it mildly, he knew. Darius was cold, secretive, untrusting…all his own hard and difficult traits, in a stronger, concentrated form. It had made his son a deadly warrior, perhaps the deadliest that ever lived, but it had also condemned him to a sort of isolation and loneliness, even surrounded by his fanatically loyal army.

  “Did you try to recruit any of them?” Cain was edgy. He wasn’t sure how Darius would react to something like that, but he had an idea it wouldn’t be good.”

  “No, of course not. The Black Eagles are an ally.” A pause. “But I can’t say I didn’t make sure the word got out. Recruiting is one thing, accepting volunteers is another.”

  “And so, did you get many volunteers?” Cain’s edginess was still there. He wasn’t too sure Darius would differentiate between such efforts.

  “Not one. Granted, many may not have heard that we were calling back al
l the old veterans, but some must have. And yet not a single one left the Eagles to return.”

  Cain understood the angst in Gilson’s voice. The Marines had come to expect almost unlimited loyalty and dedication in their people. And, in fairness, those former Marines who were now Eagles knew they were on the same side. They weren’t choosing to fight against the Corps, or even stand aside as the Marines fought…and certainly most of them felt they could serve the war effort more effectively in their current positions. But still, none?

  “Darius has an effect on his people, Cate.”

  “Like you always did.”

  Cain felt a wave of embarrassment. “Marines follow their leaders.”

  “Yes, they do. But it was always something different with you, Erik. They respected me, obeyed me, followed me…but they loved you. For as long as I can remember.” A short break. “Elias always knew it too. He told me that’s what made you such a natural leader. He won the admiration of his soldiers, and over years that turned to a sort of admiration, even love. But with you it was almost natural. You had that bond with the Marines in the field, Erik. You always did.”

  Cain didn’t answer right away. Such talk always made him uncomfortable, and he tended to shy away from it. He knew his Marines had followed him loyally year after year, but he couldn’t understand how they could love him, how they could do anything but secretly hate him. How many had he gotten killed? How many died, lying in the mud as their life’s blood spilled out, cursing his name? That was always the image in his head, though he knew, on some level, it wasn’t the truth.

  “Well, let’s hope I still have whatever is left of that, because we’re going to need to get everything we can coax from these Marines. There aren’t our old veterans, not for the most part, and I wouldn’t count on having the advantage against our enemies, not in training nor in technology…and certainly not in numbers.” Cain took a deep breath. There was little to be gained by expanding on his deepest concerns, not when there was nothing to be done about any of it.