Crimson Worlds Refugees: The First Trilogy

by Jay Allan

  “Yes, Admiral.”

  Compton couldn’t tell if Cortez agreed or not, but he didn’t care. He’d sacrificed men and women before, to save vital material, to win a battle, to buy the escape of others. But he wasn’t going to do it for one battered cruiser. Especially when he could get the spacers off. Not now.

  It wasn’t even a tough decision.

  * * *

  “I want those weapons systems back online, Davis, and I do mean now!” Erica West’s voice was raw, forceful. She wasn’t one to interfere with her flag captain’s running of his ship, but her fury was bursting from its normally tight control.

  Saratoga and her group had transited first, moving into the X49 system. West was the kind of officer who was always ready for trouble…and this operation was no different. But there was nothing she could do about the natural effects of a warp gate transit. There was nothing Black could do either, and she knew it. But she couldn’t help herself. She’d found that most people could be pushed harder, that they could do better than they would without her breathing down their neck. But she also realized that Davis Black wasn’t one of them. The man was incapable of doing less than his very best, and she knew that well. But she was riding him anyway.

  “Working on it, Admiral,” came the harried response. She could hear the chaos on Saratoga’s bridge coming through the com, and she could only imagine how badly Black was terrorizing his crew.

  “Seconds count, Davis. Do your best.” She cut the line, leaving her longtime flag captain to his work. Then she turned toward the tactical station.

  “Commander Krantz, all ships are to fire at will as soon as their systems come back online.” She knew the vessels of her task force would recover at different speeds. But there were First Imperium ships firing at her task force, and she’d be damned if she was going to let the one-sided affair go on a microsecond longer than necessary.

  “Yes, Admiral. We’ve got about half the task force back on the com grid.”

  Thank God, communications came back so quickly.

  Her eyes darted to the tactical display. There were ten icons, First Imperium ships that had been waiting right at the warp gate. They were all Gargoyles, which meant they had considerable firepower. West knew her task force could take them…assuming her systems came back online in time. But she was going to take losses too.

  And the rest of the fleet is right on our heels. If we don’t take out these ships they’re going to inflict a lot of damage on our forces.

  She thought about sending a ship back to warn them off, to advise Compton to hold the rest of the fleet back. But she realized that wasn’t going to work. The last scanner sweeps before her people jumped had told her all she needed to know. Wave after wave of First Imperium ships—hundreds of them—coming through the warp gate from X54. Compton couldn’t stay in X51…no matter what.

  No, whatever is here in X49…whatever we’re facing now, the way is forward.

  Saratoga shook hard as an enemy laser blast slammed into her. West felt the urge to check with Black again, but she held herself back. He had his orders, and the instant Saratoga had a weapon activated, he would be firing it.

  “Conde is firing, Admiral!” The surprise in Krantz’ voice was clear. The Europan battleship had been almost destroyed in the desperate fight in X56…and then nearly abandoned as the task force withdrew. But her engineering staff had worked miracles, getting her engines and reactors back online moments before West had ordered her to be evacuated and left behind. They’d continued their wizardry ever since, and short on supplies and replacements they’d nevertheless managed to get most of the battered ship’s weapons back online too. And now she was the first vessel firing.

  West just shook her head and allowed herself a tiny smile. Captain Trevian continued to surprise her. She’d never thought much of the Europan navy, particularly their senior officers…and she’d almost said so when Compton had put Conde in her task force. But Trevian had proven to be a courageous and highly gifted commander, and he’d clearly imparted those assets to his crew. Conde had done its share and more in the battles along the Slot. And she was doing it yet again.

  “We’ve got power, Admiral. All batteries opening fire.” It was Black, coming through on the direct line. An instant later she heard the familiar whine of Midway’s high-power conduits powering up…energy surging toward to the laser batteries.

  Alright, you bastards, here it comes…

  * * *

  “No. Absolutely not.” Midway rocked hard as Compton leaned over his com unit. The flagship had taken a pounding, but her damage control teams had worked wonders. Her reactors were over 90%, and all her main batteries were active and firing.

  “But Admiral, there are enemy ships all over this system. We’ve been hit four times already…and the warp gate is still almost a light hour from…”

  “I said no, Greta. If we launch your birds, we’re not going to be able to stop and pick you up. It would be a suicide mission…for all of you.”

  “We might be able to make it back, if we launch at long range and…”

  “Forget it, Greta. I understand, I really do. But we’re going to need your people in X48…to protect the shuttles when we evac the landing parties.” He fought back a wave of blackness from deep in his mind. He didn’t really expect to find anyone alive on X48, but he wouldn’t—couldn’t—give them up. Not until he was sure. Besides, survivors on X48 or not, he wasn’t going to let Hurley sacrifice the last of her shattered wings. They deserved better than that, all of them.

  Compton sighed. He was sure about his decision, but it was frustrating too. He could really use Hurley’s fighters. His people had been hit again and again since entering X49, one small attack force after another. None of them threatened to defeat the fleet, not individually, at least. But each one took its toll. He was losing ships, fuel…people. His crews were becoming exhausted from the almost constant combat.

  It was slowing him down too. He’d intended to throw his people in the tanks and rip through the X49 system as quickly as possible. But the density of enemy resistance pretty much killed that plan. His people were suffering enough at full effectiveness. If he put everyone in the tanks, his ships would be a hell of a lot more sluggish. And that meant more of them would die.

  He knew X49 was going to be a nightmare as soon as Midway emerged from the warp gate and found Saratoga and her task force toe to toe with a First Imperium squadron. The battle had been sharp and fierce, but West’s people were just getting the upper hand when Compton’s ship emerged. By the time it was over, she’d lost two ships…and incoming fleet units had joined her forces in the line.

  The welcoming committee had only been the start. More First Imperium squadrons, most of them small, began coming in, almost continuously. His people hadn’t had more than an hour of downtime in the day they’d been in X49. His crews were exhausted, surviving on stims they were taking in extremely dangerous dosages. Indeed, Compton himself could feel it, his hands shaking, his leg twitching uncontrollably. He didn’t even want to think about how his judgment was being affected. Still, he knew there was no choice. If the enemy kept attacking, his people would have to stay in the fight. Any way they could. For as long as necessary.

  Midway shuddered. It was another hit, but there was something different about it. Compton could tell immediately. Internal explosion. He didn’t know what it was, but it meant the incoming lasers had pounded through the outer defenses…tearing into more vulnerable areas. Compton had been at war in space for fifty years, and he knew better than almost anyone…that was when a ship began to die.

  He looked at the display. The enemy attack force was almost gone. It had been a strong one, twenty-one ships, almost half of them Gargoyles. There were only four left, and the one that had just hit Midway was surrounded by half a dozen fleet vessels. It wouldn’t last more than another minute, perhaps less. But the sick feeling of his flagship shaken to its core by its own secondary blasts was a stark reminder. His shi
ps couldn’t take infinite punishment any more than his crews could.

  What is waiting for us in X48? We’re being driven back there, that much is clear. Can that be coincidence? I doubt it. Is that where we make our last stand, where this desperate flight ends?

  He glanced over at the screen. He’d originally decided against making a run for the X52 gate. It was the only alternative to the transit back to X48, the third and final of the system’s three warp gates, but his gut told him the enemy would have that one covered too. Still, it was closer, and when his people were hit by repeated attacks, he considered making a dash for it. Then enemy ships started pouring out, moving to cut the fleet off from X48. And that left no choice.

  He saw the force from X52 was still on an interception course. It was fifty ships strong…with more vessels behind, still coming through the gate. And if the fleet didn’t make better speed, the enemy was going to get between it and the X48 gate.

  And that will be the end. We might battle our way through fifty ships—plus whatever else gets there while we’re in the fight—but we won’t have much left when it’s over.

  He stared down at the deck, struggling to keep his jumpy, strung out mind focused.

  No, he thought to himself, pounding his fist on his knee, not here. If the trap is in X48, let it be so. And let us fight there while we still have strength remaining. They may destroy us, but we will give them one last fight, one they will not soon forget. We don’t have a choice. We’ve got to make a run for X48.

  “Fleet order…all vessels are to prepare for high gee maneuvers.”

  “Affirmative, sir.” Cortez sounded surprise, but he immediately opened a fleetwide com line and repeated Compton’s command.

  Compton sat quietly, deep in thought. He had elected against blasting through the system in the tanks, concerned of the degradation it would cause to the combat effectiveness of his ships. But now he realized there was no choice, no real alternative. If he didn’t get his people the hell out of X49, they were going to be picked apart bit by bit until there was almost nothing left.

  That’s just what the enemy wants, why they’re willing to sacrifice these suicide attack forces to make it happen…

  He watched as the last of the enemy ships in close range were destroyed. There were new forces coming in from multiple directions. But he knew his people had a brief respite, perhaps twenty minutes. More than enough to get everybody zipped up and make a run for X48.

  He felt a twinge. His ships had been in constant combat for hours. When he gave the order to accelerate at 30g, not every vessel would be able to execute it. Some would have engine damage or reactors functioning at levels too low to support such extreme acceleration.

  They will try to follow, keep up as well as they can. But they will fall back, become isolated. And they will die, at least some of them.

  But it will save the fleet, at least for this moment. If some must die for that then so be it.

  He took a deep breath, hating himself for the matter-of-fact nature of his internal response. But there was nothing left inside him, no emotion, no humanity…nothing. Nothing save the relentless need to save his fleet, to keep at least some of his people alive. Whatever that took.

  “All fleet personnel to the tanks immediately. We’re blasting in eight minutes, and we’re not stopping for anybody.” Compton’s voice was like ice.

  “Yes, sir,” Cortez replied.

  Compton stood up, standing still for a minute while he watched his flag bridge crew unlatch themselves from their harnesses and move toward the lifts.

  Whatever it takes.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Final Passage from the Screed of Almeerhan (translated)

  It is here. The time I have awaited, through ages almost uncounted, is now almost at its end. My long watch has now passed, and my time of consciousness, so vastly longer than any of my kind, has come at last to its end. Many times have I doubted they would come, that the seeds we planted would bear fruit. Yet our work and our sacrifices were not in vain. Oh, my brethren, wherever you are, know I will be with you soon…and know also that our children have come, to take up the mantle of our civilization, to reclaim all that was once ours.

  Long have I kept this screed, that there would be a record of this ageless vigil to survive even my deathless span. And I fail utterly to describe my thoughts as I make this, the final entry after so many millennia. To those who find this, to you who will follow in our path, I say only this. You are the descendants of we who ruled these stars, of a race that explored the galaxy and achieved greatness unimagined. And yet we sacrificed it all, yielded that which drove us, and through such folly, we surrendered all we were. Make not our mistake in giving up the greatness you attain. Seize your place and bring the Imperium to new heights of greatness…and once there, hold them. For all time and through the generations upon generations which will follow you.

  I am Almeerhan, my children. Know that I was here before you, that I and my people bequeath to you all our knowledge, and the honor and greatness we so long ago attained…and then cast aside. Follow in our glory and make not our mistakes…and the universe shall be yours.

  X48 System – Planet II

  Near Camp Alpha – outside “New York City”

  30 kilometers south of “Plymouth Rock”

  The Fleet: 105 ships, 27042 crew

  “Let’s go…keep moving!”

  The sun was shining brightly, the air fresh and cool, like an idyllic early fall day. But none of them had even noticed. They’d been running for more than two days, without more than an hour’s rest or a quick combat ration for sustenance. But Cutter had insisted they keep going, that they not slow their pace even the slightest bit.

  He was in the lead, a place no one would have expected to find him just a few days earlier. But since he’d come back from Almeerhan’s fortress, he felt like a new man. His emotions were a jumble—anger, excitement, fear. But he was energized too, and he felt a strange strength inside him. He knew more about man’s origin than any human being who had ever lived. And while he still resented the choices that had been made for them all ages before, things were also beginning to make sense. He’d long seen the First Imperium as some alien threat, as monsters who had come from the deep darkness, like the villains from a children’s story. Deadly and fearsome…faceless, nameless too. But there was more to it than that. Much more.

  And he finally had a name for the enemy, the leader of the terrible robots that had been pursuing them with such xenophobic rage. The Regent.

  “What has gotten into you?” Ana was back a few meters, out of breath and struggling to catch up. “I’ve never seen you like this.”

  “We don’t have time to waste. We have to get back to camp and warn the others.”

  “Warn them about what, Hieronymus?” It was Frasier. He’d been fairly quiet since Cutter and the others returned, but now he was clearly concerned about what threats might be out there.

  “I understand you can’t get into all you saw down there,” he added, “but if there are hostiles near, I have to know.”

  Cutter stopped. “You’re right, Duncan.” He turned around and faced the big Marine. “There is something down there…the remnants of an enemy of those we fight.”

  “An enemy? Of the First Imperium?” Frasier’s voice sounded almost shocked. “Is that really possible?”

  Cutter paused. The First Imperium wasn’t the enemy, not really. Only the robotic servants it had left behind, the Regent and its creations. But there wasn’t time to worry about such distinctions. Not now.

  “Yes, an enemy of the First Imperium. It is what saved us, what destroyed all the enemy forces in the tunnels. And in saving us it gave away its location. I expect the enemy forces on this planet to concentrate…and attack.”

  “Ronnie, what happened to you down there?” Ana was staring at him, and he could tell from her face she wasn’t sure she believed him.

  “Just what I said,” he snapped, with mo
re anger than he’d intended. “Look, I know this all sounds crazy, but you are all going to have to trust me. Whatever strength our enemy has left on this planet is going to attack these ruins. Soon. And we have to get the hell out of here, get back to the main base camp and warn the others.”

  His eyes moved around, checking their expressions. There was doubt in them certainly, but also grudging acceptance. At least enough to follow him back to camp. “Have you ever seen anything like this before? Even at a First Imperium site?” He held up the cylinder. “We have to get this device off this planet and back to the fleet. Whatever chance we have to survive…it is in here.”

  Everyone was silent for perhaps half a minute. Then Ana nodded her head softly, signaling her agreement. But Cutter could see the concern too, as if she was still trying to decide if he had discovered something of the magnitude he claimed…or if he had gone crazy or been brainwashed by the enemy. He knew she would support him, and he suspected that had more to do with loyalty and affection than with analytical deduction. But he would take what he could get. At least for now.

  “Very well, Doctor,” Frasier said. “We should be able to see Camp Alpha as soon as we clear these ruins. And we will be there in less than an hour.”

  “Hopefully their com is still working.”

  Frasier nodded. “If they were affected by the same thing that hit our com, I’m sure they would have sent someone back to basecamp to reestablish contact by now.”

  “I’m sure you’re right, Major.”

  If they haven’t been blown to atoms by now…

  * * *

  “What is it, Colonel?” Sophie Barcomme ran up the last few meters of the hill toward Preston. She’d been in her shelter, actually asleep for once, when the alarms sounded, but she leapt up immediately and raced over to the command post.