Crimson Worlds Collection II

by Jay Allan

  There was no communication from the invaders, no demand for surrender. Just fiery streaks across the predawn skies…landing craft descending through the thick Newtonian atmosphere. They landed south of the village, at least thirty of them. The sleek ships set down, arrayed in an almost perfect formation. Their hulls were jet black and smooth, with none of the charring or heat damage common to such craft.

  No one from Haven scouted the landing zone, so no one saw the side doors slide open and the great armored figures pour out onto the dusty brown sand. Their formations were meticulous, perfect. There was no hesitation, no need to pause and form up…they just moved out spaced at exact ten meter intervals.

  The attackers moved quickly, traversing the 10 kilometers to Haven in less than twenty minutes. They paused two klicks out and opened fire. They carried a full magnetic auto-cannon on each arm, and their hyper-velocity rounds ravaged the settlement, tearing right through buildings, vehicles, equipment…and colonists.

  The settlers panicked, running through the village, screaming, desperately searching for cover that simply didn’t exist. At least a third of the Havenites were killed in the first two minutes, the rest stampeding through the town in blind terror.

  Ian Tremaine walked slowly through the town common in shock, seemingly oblivious to the chaos and destruction around him. He’d been in the communications hut since the landing ships were first spotted, trying vainly to contact the enemy, broadcasting the planet’s surrender on every frequency. His panicked mind raced, trying to decide what to do. He couldn’t understand. Why wouldn’t they respond? Why wouldn’t they accept the surrender? His people weren’t warriors; they weren’t a threat to anyone.

  Now his worst fears were realized. The invaders weren’t interested in surrenders or prisoners…they were here to slaughter the colonists. He walked across the village in a daze, only blind luck keeping him from being hit. He couldn’t remember how long he wandered like that, but then the madness took him. That’s when he first felt the rage, the drive to fight back, to kill the enemy.

  He ran to the shed where the guns were stored, calling for those closest to follow. The storage building was a prefabricated metal structure 10 meters square. Tremaine had been heading around the corner toward the door, but the entire side closest to him had been ripped open by enemy fire, and he ran through the gaping hole. The shed had been ravaged by auto-cannon rounds, but the gun locker was untouched. He punched the combination into the locking mechanism, and the door slid open, revealing twenty light mag rifles stored in two neat rows. He grabbed them one at a time, handing them off to the villagers who had followed him into the shed.

  Taking the last gun for himself, he ran out into the common. There were dead and wounded colonists everywhere, and the horrific sight fed his growing hatred. “To the mountains.” He screamed as loud as he could, waving his arm and pointing north toward the looming peaks. “Run! Abandon the village! To the mountains, now!”

  Tremaine gripped the rifle tightly and ran around the settlement, grabbing stunned colonists and pushing them toward the northern gate. “Flee to the mountains. We will regroup there.” He repeated his entreaties as he ran back to the northern gate, pushing the terrified settlers through the narrow opening. Finally, when everyone still alive had fled, Ian Tremaine took one last look back at the dying settlement that had been his life’s greatest achievement, and he ran across the plain toward the rugged foothills to the north where his people would make their last, futile stand.

  Chapter 6

  1st Division Headquarters

  Camp William Thompson

  Armstrong - Gamma Pavonis III

  “Who the hell was it? The Caliphate? The CAC?” Erik Cain’s voice was sharp, edgy. He was masking most of the rage, but he couldn’t hide it all.

  “We don’t know yet, Erik.” General Darius Jax stood in front of Cain, his bulk dominating the room as it usually did. Jax was meticulous as always, his uniform neatly pressed, looking like he’d just put it on. But he was tense, rushed, his body rigid. Something was very wrong; that much was clear. “General Holm sent me right over to tell you what little we know.” Jax paused for an instant before continuing with a slight frown. “He didn’t want this on the com yet.”

  Cain sighed forcefully. They’d all been operating carefully for the last year…ever since they’d uncovered the true extent of Alliance Intelligence’s infiltration. Cain hated the spy service - he hated all of Alliance Gov - but his anger had reached a new and frightening level since the rebellions. He loved the Marine Corps. It had saved him; it had made him all he’d become. It was home, a family of brothers and sisters that operated, as much as anything, on trust. Now they were afraid to even use their own communications systems. The Corps had endured despite the plot to destroy it, but he wondered if they would survive the paranoia left in its wake.

  “So what do we know?” Erik stood next to his silver metal desk, wearing his uniform pants and a gray t-shirt with the Marine Corps emblem on the left breast. His jacket was laying on a small table near the door where Cain had carelessly tossed it. It was late, though he’d still been working when Jax came running in. He motioned for the big Marine to take a seat, but he remained standing himself. “Go through it from the beginning.”

  Jax glanced at the chair Cain was pointing at, but he continued to stand. “Admiral Garret’s people got a transmission on Commnet. It was a Priority Alpha distress call from a ship called the Northstar. She’s a research and scout vessel attached to a support fleet en route to the Newton colony out on the Rim. Apparently she had some sort of malfunction and fell out of the fleet formation before making the final transit.” Jax paused briefly, allowing Cain to absorb what he was saying.

  Cain nodded. He was vaguely aware of Newton. The planet was far from rating a Marine garrison, but he still got reports on new settlements. Ultimately the Corps was responsible for defending them all. “Go on.” He didn’t snap at Jax, not exactly, but Cain wasn’t the most patient of men either.

  “She made repairs and passed through the warp gate, but shortly after entering the system she received a series of transmissions from the rest of the fleet.” Jax’s tone was somber as he continued. “The last of the signals carried Delta-Z protocols.”

  Erik was listening, but his mind was racing too, considering all of the possibilities. Newton was nowhere close to the borders with any of the other Powers but, of course, it would only take the discovery of a new warp gate, and the strategic map would be instantly redrawn. Cain himself had used such a newly located warp gate to surprise the Caliphate and seize the Gliese 250 system years before. It was a little soon after the peace to start paying attention to historians, but they were already calling that campaign the turning point of the war.

  “There is no commnet station in Newton’s system yet, so Northstar decelerated and transited back through the warp gate so they could transmit a report. Her captain is a navy vet, so he kept his cool and did what he had to do.”

  Cain sighed again, and he walked around the desk to his chair, sitting down forcefully and motioning again for Jax to take one of the guest chairs. “Whoever is hitting us picked a hell of a time. Another few months and we’d have had 1st Division better organized and up to 3 brigades.”

  Jax nodded as he reached out and turned the chair slightly. “It’s a bad time for sure. But that’s not the worst of it.” He slid the chair closer and dropped his massive frame into it. “There’s more.”

  Cain looked back with a pained expression. “For twenty years there’s always been more.” He leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. “What is it?”

  “The files Northstar transmitted have some details on the attack against the fleet.” Jax hesitated, looking at Cain but not saying anything.

  “What’s wrong with you?” Erik looked quizzically at his friend and executive officer. “Speak up. What about the files?”

  Jax took a breath. “Erik, the weapons that attacked the colony fleet are like n
othing we’ve ever seen before.” He pulled a data chip out of his pocket and placed it gently on Cain’s desk. “You’ll want to review everything on this chip very carefully. But make sure you’re on a secure closed system. The general doesn’t want any of this on the net.” Jax’s voice was tense, more so than Cain had ever heard it, at least when they weren’t on the battlefield. He’d just seen the contents of the chip himself an hour before, and he was still a bit in shock.

  “Stronger weapons?” Cain reached out and took the chip into his hand. He looked tense now too. Darius Jax was not easily rattled. He was one of the toughest of the hardcore, and seeing the expression on his face had Cain worried. “Talk to me, Darius.”

  “The missiles had three times the acceleration of our best, and they were a hell of a lot more accurate.” Jax looked right at Cain as he spoke. “And the warhead yields were as high as six gigatons.”

  Cain leaned back again and let out a long exhale. “Well that’s a problem.” He rubbed his hand along his chin. “Are we sure about this data? We’ve seen our share of scams lately.”

  Jax stared grimly across the desk. “General Holm thought about that too, but every authentication checks out.” He paused for an instant before continuing. “Of course it’s still possible that this is some kind of misinformation, but it doesn’t look that way.” His eyes found Cain’s. “We have to assume it’s real until we can prove otherwise. And frankly, Erik, I’m not sure what the hell that means.”

  The two sat quietly for a long while before Cain broke the silence. “I guess it means we’ve got some problems, my old friend.” He tried to force a smile, but only managed a brief grin. “It’s bad enough if one of the Powers discovered a backdoor into the Rim. If they did, they can bypass most of our heaviest defenses and come at us through our soft underbelly.” He fidgeted uncomfortably in his chair. “But if they’ve made some sort of major tech breakthrough as well, we’re really in trouble.”

  Jax nodded, but didn’t say anything. He just sat quietly and watched as Erik slipped the data chip into a reader. He had just started to play back the transmissions when Hector interrupted the silence.

  “General Cain, I have General Holm on the line for you.” Hector had been Cain’s AI since he’d graduated from the Academy as a commissioned officer. The two had a somewhat strained relationship that nevertheless seemed to work fairly well. Hector had received a significant upgrade in his processing systems and databases when Erik had been promoted to general rank, but the AI’s personality remained eccentric.

  “Put him on speaker.” Cain looked up from the portable reader he’d been using to view the contents of the data chip. “And lock the door. No one gets in here until I say so. Understood?”

  “Yes, general.” The AI’s voice was calm and professional, but Cain could swear there was a hint of sarcasm in there somewhere. “I am quite certain my processing capability of 400 terabits per second enables me to understand a locked door.” Ok, Cain thought, maybe more than a hint.

  “Erik, is Jax there yet?” Holm’s voice was clipped, tense.

  “Yes, sir.” Cain always got nervous when Holm sounded scared. “You’re on speaker. It’s just Darius and me here. Hector has the room locked down.”

  “Did Darius fill you in?”

  “Yes, sir. I was just starting to review the transmissions, but I have the gist of the situation.” Cain looked over at Jax, both of them wondering what fresh disaster Holm had to share with them.

  The general didn’t waste any time. “We got another transmission from Northstar on commnet.” His voice was grim. “It carried a Delta-Z designation.”

  Cain and Jax just sat there, letting Holm’s words sink in. Northstar had escaped the Newton system, and she should have been days ahead of any pursuit…not to mention well out of detection range of the enemy fleet. Holm didn’t have any details yet, but they all knew it wasn’t good.

  “I want both of you over here immediately.”

  “Yes, sir.” Cain started to get up. “We’re on the way.”

  “Good. Holm out.” The transmission terminated abruptly. General Holm had a lot of calls to make.

  “I’ve got a transport outside.” Jax gestured toward the door as he hopped out of the chair.

  Cain grabbed his jacket off the table and followed Jax. “Hector, open the door.” There was a metal on metal sound as the security bolt slid aside and the hatch opened.

  Jax hurried through the door, ducking slightly as he usually did to clear the opening. Cain followed, but stopped abruptly. “Hector, contact Colonel Teller. Tell him to take operational command until I get back.” Cain paused for an instant, thinking. “Tell him I want the division placed on alert. All units are to prepare to ship out immediately.”

  If they were at war, there was no time to lose. He took a quick breath and followed Jax through the main workroom and out into the quad.

  James Teller got up on the wrong side of the bed. Actually, he’d jumped out of bed so quickly when he got Hector’s message he almost took a header over his boots. The orders were suitably cryptic – take command of the division and put it on wartime alert. No explanation, nothing. Well, he thought, the Marine Corps promised adventure, and so far it had delivered in spades.

  He was at HQ now, sitting at one of the workstations in the main room. Hector had opened the C in C’s office for him, but Teller wasn’t about to sit at Erik Cain’s desk, not under any circumstances. Cain had been an idol of his throughout his career and, while he managed to keep the overt hero-worship in check as the dignity of his new position demanded, he still had a healthy respect for anything to do with Cain, and that included the man’s desk.

  Colonel Prescott hadn’t arrived on Armstrong yet, so Teller had been looking after the Canadian officer’s brigade as well as his own. Prescott had resigned his commission when the rebellions started and returned to his adopted home on Victoria, with most of the Canadian regiment following his lead. A small colony almost out on the Rim, Victoria had been settled mostly by immigrants from the Canadian provinces of the Alliance. Bolstered by the arrival of so many Marine veterans, the planet was the first to drive the federal forces off-world. By the time of the armistice and Martian-sponsored peace, not a federal soldier or official was left on Victoria, and the planet had established a stable government and planetary army.

  Having left the Corps to support revolution, Prescott found himself on uncertain ground with the coming of peace…that is until Major-General Erik Cain sent a communication personally asking Prescott to come back to the Corps and command one of his brigades. He jumped at the chance, gratefully accepting the appointment.

  Cain had carefully chosen people he could trust for his key positions. Teller had been under his command for years, and Prescott was a tried and true revolutionary, very unlikely to ever work for Alliance Intelligence. Besides the trust issue, he felt he owed a debt of honor to his new brigade commander. The Canadian Regiment had been one of the units that broke through and relieved Cain’s 1st Brigade on the Lysandra Plateau during the final battle on Carson’s World. Prescott’s troops, along with Angus Frasier’s Highlanders, had suffered crippling losses during the bitter fighting, but they’d kept up the attack until they linked with Cain’s survivors. It was the decisive moment of the battle…and of the war.

  Teller was hunched over a workstation, reviewing orders of battle. The division wasn’t up to strength yet, not even for its current two brigade organization. They were well-supplied, however, and more or less ready for action. Cain’s orders had been to prepare for embarkation, and Teller was determined to see it done in record time.

  Preparing an entire division for transport into a combat situation was an almost overwhelming task, especially when a good chunk of the top command was off somewhere, deep in conference. Teller was working with Hector; Cain had instructed his AI to assist in any way possible, and the quasi-sentient computer was obeying enthusiastically for once. “Hector, get me Major Brinn please.”


  “Yes, Colonel Teller.” The AI’s voice was professional and respectful. Teller had heard Cain complain about Hector before, but he himself had nothing but praise for the semi-sentient computer. Erik would have been pleased - and a little pissed - to know how well Hector had behaved in his absence. “Major Brinn on your com, colonel.”

  “Good evening, major.” Teller glanced at the chronometer. “Actually, I suppose good morning is more appropriate. Barely.”

  “Good morning, sir.” Brinn was trying not to sound half asleep, with limited success. The troops of 1st Division were mostly veterans, especially the officers. But none of them had been expecting an alert. The Powers were all at peace, and there had been no indication of imminent hostilities. “What can I do for you, sir?”

  Teller took a short breath, feeling mildly guilty about the job he was about to dump on 1st Division’s chief armorer. “The division is on full alert, major. I need you to do a full diagnostic check on the ordnance.”

  There was a brief silence. Hand-checking almost 10,000 suits of powered armor was a massive undertaking, and Brinn’s team was understrength just like the rest of the division. “Yes, sir.” Brinn paused for a few seconds, and Teller could hear the officer’s breathing over the com. “Sir, I am very short of manpower. Is it possible to loan me some technicians?”

  “Sorry, major.” Teller wished he had the personnel. “We just don’t have the bodies. The whole division is getting ready to bug out. There’s just no one to spare.”

  “I understand, sir.” Brinn was silent for a moment, but when Teller didn’t say anything, he continued. “With your permission, sir, I will get started. We have a lot of work to do down here.”

  “By all means, major. Get to it.” Teller cut the connection and glanced down at the screen on his workstation. The combat prep checklist was displayed. The first several items were highlighted in blue, indicating they were completed or underway. The rest of the list, which ran all the way to the bottom of the screen and scrolled off, was still red. “Hector, get me Captain Masters.” It was going to be a long night, he thought. He scrolled down the list, all the way to the end. A very long night.