Crimson Worlds Collection II

by Jay Allan

  “Scanners are functioning properly, sir.” Carp didn’t sound any better than Jacobs. He was staring at the readouts on the gargantuan vessel just as Jacobs was. “Estimated length, 18.7 kilometers, mass 4,650,000 kilograms.”

  “Have you confirmed that data, commander?” Jacobs sounded incredulous. He understood what he was being told, but he couldn’t quite absorb it all. A battleship with twenty times the mass of a Yorktown B? He’d never conceived of such a thing. He couldn’t begin to guess at the weaponry a ship like that mounted, especially considering the overall level of First Imperium technology.

  “Forward all incoming data to Admirals Garret and Compton.” He glared over at Carp. “I mean the instant it comes in, commander!”

  “Yes, sir. Understood.” Carp’s voice was raspy. The young officer sounded like he had to struggle to draw a deep breath. It was tension, fear. This enemy vessel was like something out of his darkest nightmares.

  The remnants of Scouting Fleet were en route to the X1 warp gate, but they were still the closest formation to the X4 gate, the first to pick up the new enemy force pouring through.

  Jacobs stared at the display. Fucking Cleret, he thought, not a word…not a bit of warning…stupid bastard probably got his entire command blown away without even getting a drone back to report. He felt the rage coursing through his body, his hands balled in pointless fists as he sat and watched doom rush into the system. He’d have cut the Europan captain’s throat if he’d been standing there, just for the sheer pleasure of watching the useless fuck bleed to death.

  The enemy fleet was moving at 0.08c. That was fast…too fast. Jacobs did a quick calculation. His ships were close enough to the X1 gate to escape…and Garret’s too. But there was no way Compton’s fleet could accelerate enough to get through the system before they were cut off. And even the combined Grand Fleet was no match for the enemy forces already in the system…and there were more still transiting. Jacobs thought of Garret and Compton, wondering what they would do, grateful that he wasn’t in command, that the decision wasn’t his to make. He couldn’t even guess at what decisions he would make in that situation.

  “Sir, Captain Mondragon requests permission to change his vector to get a close in scanner sweep of the enemy battleship. Carp’s voice sounded strange. He knew Mondragon was asking permission for a suicide mission, and he was wondering what Jacobs would say.

  Jacobs sat silently. He wanted more data…he knew Garret and Compton needed all the info he could get them. But he realized Mondragon would just throw his life and the lives of his crews away. They’d never get close enough to get useful data. Jacobs knew in his gut he would have said yes if they had any chance at all to succeed. He might have even ordered Mondragon to go. But it would be a senseless waste.

  “Advise Captain Mondragon permission is denied. He is to continue on his present bearing toward the X1 warp gate.” We’ve lost enough lives in this war, Jacobs thought…no need to throw away more for no gain.

  Jacobs knew there was nothing he could do other than report his findings up the line. This was Garret’s and Compton’s problem. He had a bad feeling about what they would be forced to do, but it was out of his hands. Michael Jacobs had never been more grateful to be powerless in his life.

  “Admiral Compton’s fleet will never make it to the X1 gate before the enemy is in range.”

  Rourke was speaking to Garret, but he was only half listening. He’d already come to that conclusion. His mind was racing, trying to think of what to do…but he knew it was fruitless. He’d already realized the only way the thing could end. He didn’t know how he could possibly bring himself to actually do what he knew had to be done.

  The forces advancing through the system were almost beyond conception. Over a thousand ships had transited, including 20 of the massive new behemoths. Now it was all clear to Garret. Their earlier victories, the successful defenses on the Line…they had awakened the wrath of a vengeful giant. Now they were looking at the true might of the First Imperium. And it was as grim as death incarnate.

  The enemy fleet was a vastly stronger force than his fleet could face…orders of magnitude beyond anything all the might of humanity could stand against. Against this vast array of First Imperium power, all the force mankind had ever mustered would be little more than a forlorn hope. It was pure mathematics…and no amount of courage, no stroke of luck, no brilliant tactic…would make the slightest difference. If that fleet transited into X1, all would be lost. His ships couldn’t outrun a First Imperium fleet…there would be no second chance to disrupt a warp gate and block off human space. And that was now the only hope.

  “Instruct Dr. Hofstader and General Cain to position the device for insertion into the X1-X2 warp gate.”

  “Yes, admiral.” Rourke’s voice was strained, somber. She didn’t envy Garret the crushing responsibility of command. She was an ambitious officer, but she never wanted to sit in Garret’s chair. She couldn’t imagine how a single man could bear so much burden.

  “The fleet will prepare to withdraw toward the warp gate.” There was no emotion in Garret’s voice. Just fatigue as deep and black as space itself.

  It was time. He could end the war in the next few hours. All he had to do was sacrifice his best friend…run and leave behind the man he’d called brother for forty years. Abandon him and his 40,000 crew to certain death.

  Garret felt cold inside, lifeless. He was on autopilot, issuing the commands, prepping the fleet for the unthinkable. Everything would be ready. But Garret had no idea how he’d bring himself to issue that final order.

  Terrance Compton sat quietly in his command chair, staring at the incoming data, but not really absorbing it. None of it mattered. Not anymore. He knew what they had to do. What Garret had to do.

  He looked around the flag bridge, watching his staff working at their stations. A few of them had figured it out for themselves. Max Harmon certainly had. His expression was somber, but he was still focused on his duties. Still, Compton could tell he knew they were doomed. Harmon was a good officer, one of the best Compton had ever seen. Most of the others were still trying to grasp the scale of the enemy fleet they faced, wondering what miracle Garret and Compton would produce to salvage things.

  Compton laughed bitterly. There is a miracle, he thought, but this one carries a high cost…one we will have to pay ourselves.

  He tried to imagine what Garret was thinking. He knew how difficult this was for his friend. In some ways, he thought, it is easier to face death than to send someone else to do it. Terrance Compton wanted to go home…he wanted to survive the war. He wanted to walk the green hills of the Academy again, looking up at the massive domes…and the beauty of space beyond. But he knew it was not to be. He’d been prepared to face death in battle for most of his life. If now is the time, he thought, I am ready…and saving all of humanity isn’t such a bad reason to die.

  There was one last thing he could do for Garret, though. He could send a message, tell his friend he understood. Try to take some of the burden off of his shoulders…deflect some of the guilt he knew would torment Garret.

  “Commander Harmon, all ships are to perform complete engine and weapons diagnostics immediately. And I want all vessels fully rearmed. I expect Admiral Garson to do wonders with the transport task force. I want this fleet 100% ready for action in two hours. Understood?”

  “Yes, sir.” Harmon felt a surge of pride. He knew very well if Terrance Compton was going down, he was going down fighting. And he felt the same way.

  Now, Compton thought, closing his helmet and activating the com…it’s time to say goodbye to Augustus.

  “Please, General Sparks.” Jacob’s voice was raw, pleading. “You have to board the shuttle now. There’s no time left.” Jacobs’ people had evacuated the engineering crews working on the captured enemy vessel. They’d made a mighty effort to rig the ship for towing, but there just hadn’t been time. They’d have to abandon it. That was something that seemed unthinkable a
few days before, but Jacobs found it hard to give a shit in light of what was happening with Admiral Compton and his people.

  The rest of Scouting Fleet’s survivors had blasted off toward the warp gate already. In another 20 minutes, they’d all be in the X1 System. But Indianapolis had stayed behind, waiting for General Sparks and the last of his crew.

  “Ten more minutes, admiral.” Sparks was onboard the enemy ship, scavenging every portable instrument and recording anything he could for future research. Even if they managed to end the war by disrupting the warp gate, the ship offered centuries of scientific progress. Sparks wanted to salvage anything he could. It was killing him to leave it behind.

  “No, general.” Jacobs understood the engineer’s devotion to his work. But they were out of time. “We have to leave. I need you on that shuttle immediately.”

  Jacobs was close to sending his Marines to drag Thomas Sparks to the shuttle. He and Sparks were of equivalent rank, and they were in space, which made him the superior…but he wasn’t sure his Marine detachments would follow an admiral’s order to arrest a Corps general.

  There was a pause. “Very well, admiral.” Sparks’ voice was distracted. “We will be in the shuttle in 3 minutes. Is that satisfactory?”

  “Yes, general. That will be perfectly fine.” He turned toward Carp. “Prepare a thrust plan to take us directly through the gate. We’ll be accelerating at full thrust.” That meant being stuck in the couches, but Jacobs wanted to get the hell out of this accursed system as quickly as possible. “We’ll be executing as soon as General Sparks’ people are secured aboard.”

  “Incoming message from Admiral Compton. It’s marked for your eyes only, sir.” Rourke’s voice was shaky. Everyone knew what was happening, and just the thought of Compton was enough to bring a veteran spacer to tears.

  The rest of the fleet had already transited. Pershing was alone, 200,000 kilometers from the warp gate. They’d been sitting there for 20 minutes, waiting for Garret’s orders. But the fleet admiral had been silent, sitting rigidly in his chair, a stony, unmoving expression on his face.

  “Send it to my com, commander.” His voice was dead, lifeless.

  “Yes, sir. Transferring now.”

  Garret flipped the com switch, closing his eyes as Compton’s voice filled his headset. “Hello, Augustus.” The transmission had visual as well as audio. Compton was sitting there, a weak smile on his face.

  “You have to go, Augustus.” Compton’s voice was firm, remarkably so considering the circumstances. “Get your fleet through the warp gate and blow that thing.”

  Garret heard the words coming through the com, he saw his old friend’s face on the monitor. Compton sounded rational, reasonable. He could have been discussing an exercise. But Garret saw the facts behind his friend’s words, stark and naked. Compton was telling Garret to leave him behind…him and over half of Grand Fleet…to strand them here with the massive First Imperium force.

  Garret stared into the screen, his eyes a plea for salvation. For the first time in his long and storied career, Augustus Garret would have gratefully dumped his responsibilities on someone else. Anyone.

  “I wish we could have a conversation about this, my old friend. One last talk…a few minutes to chat about the old days, maybe.” The calm rationality of Compton’s voice was cutting into Garret like a dull knife. “But space is a harsh mistress, and two light hours might as well be the other side of the universe.”

  Compton’s smile slowly faded, and he stared intently from the screen. “I’m asking you to go. I’m begging you. If you don’t, my people and I will just die in defeat rather than in victory. We will die for nothing instead of something.” His smiled again, briefly. “Besides, don’t give up on me so easily. I just may get out of here and find another way back home.”

  Garret knew it was bravado. Even if Compton got his people out of this system somehow, they’d be lost, refugees. Compton would never try to find an alternate route to human space…Garret was sure of that. He’d never risk leading the First Imperium back with him.

  “Go, my friend. It’s what I would do. It’s our duty. We have lived lives of duty, my old friend. Now is no time for either of us to stop.”

  He’s worried about me, Garret thought, he’s trying to make this easier for me…God damn you, Terrance. Garret was watching the screen, fighting to hold back his tears.

  “You have been more than a friend, Augustus…more than a brother. I had no idea, when I left home for the Naval Academy all those years ago, that I would find a friend like you. We had quite a run, Admiral Garret. It’s been my great honor and pleasure to be at your side…to watch your back.” Garret stared into the screen, feeling like his insides were being torn out.

  “Go now. You will have to move forward without me, bear the burdens alone that we would have shared. I’m sorry I won’t be there to help you face the next battle. Because we both know there will be a new one. Eventually.” Compton paused, his own carefully checked emotions threatening to burst through his mask. “You are the best, most honorable man I’ve ever known, Augustus Garret.” Another pause, longer this time. “Goodbye, my friend.” Compton’s face remained for a few seconds…then the screen went dark.

  “No.” Garret whispered to himself, his resolve weakening. “We’ll hold them back. Somehow. I’ll bring the fleet back…we’ll make a stand.” He could feel how empty his words were, even as they escaped his mouth. His lips parted again, but there was nothing else to say. Compton was right. Garret couldn’t save his friend. There was nothing he could do…and even trying would condemn billions of people to almost certain death.

  Terrance Compton had won the war. If he hadn’t moved up the timetable and rushed to the front with half the Pact’s ships, the combined Grand Fleet would have arrived to find all the enemy task forces assembled and drawn up to defend Sigma 4. There would have been no invasion of the planet, no capture of the enemy base, no discovery of the device that was likely to save mankind…the Armageddon weapon that was likely intended for Earth. Compton is the hero, Garret thought bitterly…and his reward is to be left behind. Abandoned.

  “Commander Rourke, we will be withdrawing through the warp gate in ten minutes.” He stood slowly. “Advise General Cain that we will be activating the device as soon as Midway is clear of the gate.” There…he’d said it. He’d still have to order the device detonated, but he’d done what had to be done now.

  “Yes, sir.”

  Garret walked slowly, silently toward his office. He had 10 minutes, 600 seconds, to record a message…his own farewell to a friend.

  Chapter 33

  Main Corridor

  “Officer’s Country” – AS Pershing

  Sigma 4 System

  Erik Cain walked slowly down the corridor. He was quiet, somber…like almost everyone in the fleet. They’d done what they had come to do. They had found their miracle and shut the enemy out of human space. Hofstader’s plan had worked. They’d tested the warp gate a dozen times…it was completely non-functional. There was only a faint blue aura where it floated in space…50 million petatons of trapped energy slowly escaping, as it would do for the next several centuries.

  The war was over. But the cost had been beyond reckoning, and dealing with the aftermath would be brutally difficult. Death in battle would have been far easier, much more merciful. Leaving comrades behind, trapping them and condemning them to almost certain death….Cain couldn’t imagine anything worse for an honorable fighting man. And there were few more honorable than the man who’d had to give the order…Augustus Garret.

  Cain had become close to Compton, and he mourned his new friend and the thousands who’d served with him, but he knew it was different for Garret. He and Compton had been like brothers for more than 40 years. Erik Cain was no stranger to difficult decisions and the consequences of giving fateful orders…but he couldn’t imagine what this one had cost Garret. He knew, better than almost anyone else, what it took, how deeply it hurt to a
ccept the responsibility for such commands.

  There had been no choice. Compton’s fleet had about 40,000 Marines and naval personnel aboard. If those enormous First Imperium dreadnoughts had gotten through the X2 warp gate, the billions of people in human occupied space would have been as good as dead. No, Garret hadn’t had any choice. But Cain knew that didn’t make it any easier. Not even a little.

  He stopped at a wide hatch with a small wallpad next to it. “Admiral Garret?” Cain touched the pad and spoke softly. “It’s Erik Cain, sir.” No one had dared disturb Garret. The admiral had calmly remained at his station after Hofstader blew the warp gate, ordering test after test to confirm the operation had been a success. Then he issued orders for the fleet to regroup and begin the journey home. After that, he left the bridge without a word. That had been two days before, and no one had seen him since.

  There was no response, but after a few seconds, the door slid open. Cain hesitated. He always hated when people disturbed him in situations like this. He knew they meant well, which, perversely, seemed to make things worse. Friends always felt the need to try and help…and they never seemed to understand what Cain was sure he knew. There was no making things better…there was only surviving them. And that was something you had to do alone. But now he felt obligated to pay this visit…not just for Garret, but for Compton too. Terrance Compton would have been the one to disturb Garret’s isolation, to make the futile effort to succor his friend and relieve his pain. But Compton was gone, unable to sit with Garret, to offer his friend absolution. Since Compton couldn’t do it, Cain decided he had to do it for him…he would stand in for the fallen hero.

  He stepped slowly into the room. It was dark, just a small bank of dim lights on. “Admiral?”