Crimson Worlds Refugees: The First Trilogy

by Jay Allan

  Three minutes. And then we’ll know if my gut still works, or if I’m just a paranoid old…

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  The Regent

  It is time. The enemy is back in system 17411 with all of their strength. The Command Unit has forces in place in the system and has orders to commence transiting the remainder of its units. I have also given the order for the Rim fleets to advance into the system, following in the path of the enemy’s retreat, and cutting off any escape route. The combined forces will have vast strength, over one thousand vessels, a force the enemy cannot match. They will be surrounded, overwhelmed…utterly destroyed.

  I have begun to study the enemy’s tactics in greater depth, their approach to war. We must learn from them, emulate the operational initiatives that make them so dangerous in battle. No enemy force can be allowed to maintain superiority to the imperial fleet and ground forces, not in any way. For the battle against the humans will not end in system 17411. It will not end until every member of their detestable race is exterminated.

  Once their invasion force is obliterated, I will send the combined fleet on a mission to search space, to explore the very fringes of the imperium seeking an alternate route to their home worlds. The warp gate affected by their detonation of the planet-buster warhead will be impassable for several centuries…and that is far too long to allow this dangerous race of beings to live, to expand and advance their technology. We will find another way to reach them, and when we do we will destroy them utterly. We must do nothing less. For the safety of the imperium.

  X48 System – Planet II

  Base Camp – “Plymouth Rock”

  The Fleet: 100 ships, 26073 crew

  “She’s going to be mad as hell, Hieronymus.” Duncan Frasier stood next to the scientist in the middle of the camp.

  The shuttles had lifted off, all but two held back in reserve. They were full of grains and beans, mostly, the result of the extensive efforts of Sophie Barcomme and her team. The botanist had used every trick she could think of to coax faster growth from the crops…but the soil of the First Imperium world had done as much as she had. The strange compatibility with Earth crops had been a mystery to her, indeed it still was. But Cutter understood now, and as soon as he got back to the fleet and told them all what he knew, she would too. A soon as it sunk in, at least. He didn’t expect his comrades to be any less shocked than he had been.

  That is one reason he’d been circumspect about sharing what he’d learned under New York City, everything Almeerhan had told him, at least while they were still on the planet. He’d felt distracted, confused ever since he’d returned. It was just too much to take in, to absorb. And his friends and comrades needed to be clear-headed now, not wandering around juggling anger, fear, amazement.

  “Yes, but at least she’s on her way back to the fleet. Safe…or at least what passes for safe these days.” He looked up at the towering figure of the fully-armored Marine. “You wanted her off-planet too…and this way she’s just mad at me and not you too.”

  Frasier grinned. “I guess I should thank you for that.”

  “No need. She’s like a sister to me, and I wanted her safe. And if she has to be mad at one of us, better me than you.” He paused. “I’m a friend, a work partner…but I know she’s lonely too. Or was, at least, until the two of you became close. She’s not going to stay away from our research because she’s angry with me, it’s too important, and it’s her life’s work. But I’d hate to see her blame you for trying to keep her safe, and throwing away a chance at some happiness. She has a pigheaded side, if you haven’t noticed yet.”

  “Thank you,” the Marine said earnestly. “I confess I’m relieved she is on her way back to the fleet, but I don’t know that I could have gotten her there myself. Not without ordering a couple Marines to haul her onto the shuttle…and I doubt she’d have ever forgiven me for that. And you’re right, she is pigheaded…but she’d special too, isn’t she, Doc?”

  “Yes she is, Duncan. And she deserves to be happy.”

  Frasier nodded. “Yes, she does. And safe too…at least as safe as we can keep her.” He paused for a few seconds, then: “You know, Doc, there’s no reason you need to stay either. Half the crops are gone, and the rest will be as soon as the shuttles come back for a second run. The artifacts are on their way up to the fleet with the rest of your team, and my Marines can handle the rest of the evac. Why don’t you take one of the reserve shuttles and get out of here yourself. You have to realize how important you are to the fleet’s chances of survival.”

  Cutter sighed softly. “No, Duncan…I can’t. I haven’t told you all everything yet, so you probably won’t understand this, but I’ve got to stay a while longer. I think the fight in the city is almost over. And I just can’t go until I know it is. It’s just something in my gut, but I believe it, and I have to stay and see this through.” He paused. “I’m expecting a message.”

  “A message?”

  “Yes. From a friend. Of sorts.”

  Frasier looked confused, but then he said, “Never mind. I’ll understand later, right?”

  “Right.”

  The two stood side by side without speaking for a couple minutes, Frasier watching his Marines moving around the camp, prepping the vital equipment for reloading. He nodded to Cutter and started to walk away when his com unit erupted.

  “Major, we’re getting some kind of communication. It’s on a strange frequency…so strong it’s almost burning out our equipment.”

  Frasier spun around, back toward Cutter. “Your message?”

  Cutter nodded, and then they both took off, running to the com shelter. They ducked inside, and before Cutter could say anything, Frasier snapped an order to the com officer. “Put the message on speaker, Lieutenant. Now.”

  “Yes sir,” the lieutenant replied. An instant later they were listening to a voice. Odd, soft…vaguely hypnotic in sound. Cutter recognized it immediately.

  “Hieronymus, this is Almeerhan. This is my final transmission. The Regent’s forces have broken through my final defenses, and they are advancing on my inner sanctum. At the conclusion of this transmission, I will activate my final defensive mechanisms and destroy the remnants of this city…and the enemy forces within it. My remaining scanners have determined that your people are still on the planet. You must leave at once…as soon as the Regent’s forces discover that I have destroyed myself, their surviving units will target your people. You must depart now from here and begin your quest. The future lies with you, for it is in your people I have placed the trust and the last strength of my own. Go, destroy our mutual enemy…and then use what I have provided you to build tomorrow. Farewell to you, Hieronymus Cutter. May the future be yours.”

  The com unit went silent.

  “Major, you’d better put your Marines on alert. We may have some fighting to do before we can get out of here.”

  Frasier just nodded, and then he started barking commands into his com.

  Cutter stood still, silent…just thinking of the alien mentality he had so recently encountered. It felt odd to be present at the final extinction, after so many millennia, of the First Imperium. The real First Imperium, not the electronic monstrosity that had taken it over.

  Then the room shook, like an earthquake, but harder, longer. Cutter fell to the ground, wincing as his knee slammed hard onto the dirt floor of the shelter. Frasier turned to help, but Cutter waved him off and dragged himself back to his feet, moving quickly to the door. Outside he could see it in the distance, a massive cloud, rising kilometers into the sky, like a thermonuclear detonation, but worse, more fearsome. He knew the last warrior of the Imperium had detonated his antimatter stores, completely obliterating the city that for six weeks had been called New York.

  Cutter was mesmerized, staring at the cloud as it expanded ever higher. “Farewell, my friend.” he said, softly, under his breath. He knew exactly what that cloud meant.

  Almeerhan was gone.

 
* * *

  “Report coming in now, Admiral.” Kip Janz was hunched over his scope, staring intently, as if the strength of his stare could speed up the probe’s report.

  “Heavy particulate matter, consistent with normal interstellar dust clouds. No energy rea…wait! We’re getting something, Admiral. Energy output. It’s faint…but definitely artificial.”

  Hurley felt her muscles tense, the surge of awareness as adrenalin flowed. The data was sparse, inconclusive. But there wasn’t a doubt in her mind what it said.

  “Get me Admiral Compton’s line,” she snapped to her AI. “Now.”

  “Ready for transmission. Midway is forty-three light seconds from our position.”

  Too far for an effective back and forth discussion. But she didn’t need a conversation. She just needed to warn Compton.

  “Admiral, this is Hurley. We have discovered artificial energy generation in the particulate cloud near the X50 warp gate. I am continuing to investigate, but I am convinced there are First Imperium vessels hidden in the cloud. No idea on size or composition of any enemy fleet, but I recommend you proceed on the assumption we are dealing with a major enemy force.”

  “Communication dispatched,” the AI said. “Project approximately one minute thirty seconds for reply.”

  Hurley sat for a few seconds. Then she flipped on the wing com channel. “Attention, this is Admiral Hurley. All ships are to arm weapons systems immediately. The probes have detected artificial energy generation within the particulate cloud ahead of us. We’re going in, and we’re going to find out exactly what is in there. We’re going to spread out and cover as much area as possible as quickly as we can.”

  She wondered if she should have bothered with the weapons. Her ships were stripped down, having sacrificed their plasma torpedoes for extra fuel canisters to extend their range. Arming the lasers just told her people she expected trouble, and amped up their stress. If there was an enemy fleet in that cloud, eighteen fighters with nothing but laser turrets didn’t stand a chance. But it just rubbed her the wrong way to think of her people going down without a fight. Outgunned or not, any of her birds that weren’t going to escape were damned sure going to fight to the end.

  “All ships have acknowledged, Admiral.” Wilder turned and looked over at her. “Do you want me to prepare an approach course for maximum coverage?”

  “Yes, John. Transmit to all ships as soon as ready.” To Janz: “Anything else from the probe, Lieutenant?”

  “No, Admiral. Confirmation on the energy source. Definitely there and definitely not natural. But nothing else.”

  Hurley just nodded. Then she switched the com back on. “All ships are to report any contacts directly to Midway. Whatever is in there, Admiral Compton needs to know immediately.”

  “Approach course complete and transmitted to all fighters, Admiral. Ready to commence whenever you are ready.”

  Hurley stared straight ahead. Wherever you are…we’re going to find you. You’re not going to take us by surprise, you bastards.

  “Very well, John. Now.”

  * * *

  “Admiral Compton, we’re getting scanner reports from the X49 warp gate. Too soon for details, but it looks like enemy ships transiting.” Cortez’ voice was tense edgy.

  Compton didn’t react, at least not that his crew could see. His gut clenched a bit, a natural wave of fear at the approach of so deadly an enemy. But he wasn’t surprised. Indeed, he’d have been shocked if the enemy hadn’t turned up soon.

  He punched the com control on chair’s arm, calling the landing bay. “Chief, I want those shuttles turned around, and I do mean now.”

  “Yes, Admiral.” The voice on the com was gruff. Sam McGraw had been Midway’s flight deck chief as long as she’d been Compton’s flagship. McGraw was old school navy all the way, no nonsense and tough as nails. And as far as Compton could remember, the veteran spacer had been in a bad mood for at least five years. “We can start launching immediately.”

  “I want them out of here as soon as they’re ready and on the way back down for another run. I don’t care if they go one at a time. Speed is of the essence here. So get them unloaded and refueled in record time chief…and you have my permission to ride anybody you need to get it done…regardless of how much platinum they have on their collars.”

  “Yes, Admiral. I’ll move them out of here, no matter how much ass I have to kick to get it done.”

  “I know you will, Chief.” Compton allowed himself a little smile. McGraw was a grouchy old cuss, and a nightmare to those who had to work under him, but Compton liked the warrant officer. It wasn’t everyone who’d say ‘ass’ to the fleet admiral, after all.

  “Commander…” He whipped his head around toward Cortez. “I want all ships to turn their shuttles around…and I mean now. If they lag behind us, tell them I’m sending Chief McGraw over to their ships to take over. Understood?” Compton hid a tiny smile. McGraw’s reputation had spread throughout the fleet…and there was no better way to motivate the other deck crews than threatening them with Midway’s terrifying warrant officer.

  “Yes, sir.” Cortez spun around, relaying the command to the other ships with every bit of the intensity Compton had used. The admiral wasn’t sure, but he thought he caught a hint of a smile on his aide’s lips too.

  The shuttles had made two trips, bringing back most of the grain as well as the scientists and some of the Marines. But Colonel Preston and Major Frasier were still down there, with almost a thousand of their people. And Hieronymus Cutter. For some reason Cutter had refused to come up with the rest of the science teams. He had no idea why, but he’d been told Cutter had been acting strangely ever since coming back from the enemy ruins. He wondered if the gifted scientist had finally lost whatever it was that kept his brilliant but high-strung mind functioning. Compton tried to imagine how Cutter, an academic used to working in a laboratory, had adapted to the danger and hardship the expedition had encountered beneath the ruins. He decided he wouldn’t be surprised if it had proven to be too much for Cutter…and he just hoped that once the scientist was back on Midway, he’d recover. Compton considered Cutter a friend, and he was worried about him. But even more crucially, he knew the fleet needed Cutter at his worktable, deciphering the technology of the First Imperium.

  “Commander, get me a direct line to Colonel Preston.”

  “Yes, sir.” A few seconds later. “I have the Colonel for you, Admiral.”

  “Colonel, we’ve got enemy ships entering the system. I’m sending the shuttles back…I want you to get your people on them as quickly as possible. Forget the shelters, equipment…everything but people. You understand?”

  “Yes, Admiral.” Preston’s voice sounded harried, distracted. And there was something in the background. Shouts and distant rumblings. Explosions.”

  “What’s going on down there, James?”

  “The battle in the city is over, sir. And the First Imperium survivors are attacking the camp. I don’t know how we’re going to evac, sir.”

  Compton felt his hands clench slowly into fists. He’d known their good luck would prove to be ephemeral, but the lack of surprise didn’t mean he wasn’t pissed off. “Just do it, James. Those shuttles are coming down no matter what…and your Marines are getting off that rock. You get me?”

  “Yes, Admiral.” Preston’s tone was respectful, but it was also full of doubt.

  “And Colonel…I want Doctor Cutter on the first shuttle to lift off. I don’t care if an armored Marine has to carry him kicking and screaming the whole way.”

  “Yes, sir. Doctor Cutter says he is ready to leave, sir. He was…waiting for something.”

  “Did he get it, whatever it was?”

  “Yes, sir. He got it.”

  “Very well, Colonel. Attend to your situation.” Preston hadn’t offered any details about what Cutter had been waiting for…and he didn’t have time to grill the harried Marine. Not while the forces on the ground were under attack…and enemy
ships were inbound toward the fleet. If whatever slim chance they had was to prevail, there certainly wasn’t a second to waste.

  Compton leaned back. He was trying to stay focused, calling on all the legendary mental discipline that had made him such a successful commander for so long. He was considering every aspect of the situation, but he knew what he had to do. He would stay as long as he could, get as many Marines off the ground as possible. But the fleet couldn’t remain around the planet for long, he knew that…not with the enemy pouring in from X49.

  And then there’s whatever Greta Hurley thinks she’s found near the X50 gate. If that’s an enemy force, it’s a hell of a lot closer.

  He sighed. No, he didn’t have much time. And if he didn’t get all of Preston’s Marines evac’d in time, he knew he would have to leave them behind. To die.

  No. He couldn’t allow that to happen. He had to get them all off.

  He turned toward Cortez. “Commander, Admiral West is to move her task force into lower orbit. She is to provide orbital bombardment in support of the Marine position on the planet. I want whatever is attacking the base down there pounded. And I do mean pounded…”

  “Yes, Admiral.”

  Compton stared at his workstation, switching the display to the data feed from the surface. The base camp was a rough circle, slightly squashed into an ellipse on one side. It was a little more than two kilometers in diameter, surrounded by a partial wall, and in front of that the real defense, a deep trench, manned by eight hundred Marines.

  Compton wasn’t an expert on ground tactics, but he knew Preston was, and he could see the strength of the line the colonel had established. The AI annotated the display, and small yellow lines showed the fields of fire from the Marines’ autocannons and other heavy weapons. They crisscrossed over the main areas of approach, interlocking fields of fire covering as many areas as possible. And in those zones, hundreds of warbots had already been destroyed, their wreckage covering the ground in front of the Marine strongpoints.