MERCS: Crimson Worlds Successors (12 page)

“So finally, we come to it.  A last minute meeting, an almost extinct vintage to grease the gears.  It must be serious, Roderick.”  Campbell took a deep breath.  “So what is it you need?”

Vance nodded.  “Long ago, you did a favor for me, a special mission.”

“I remember.  You sent me to Armstrong on one of those infernal Torch transports…with an encouragement to see if I could coax record speed from the thing, if I recall correctly.”

Vance nodded.  “You do.  And you did.  By a considerable margin, if I remember correctly.”

“I also seem to remember burning the thing out and crash landing, almost killing myself in the process.”  He smiled.  “Though I did get your message through, and there’s a good chance it saved General Cain’s life.”

Vance nodded.  “And Cain went on to kill Gavin Stark, doing more than any other single human being to end the Shadow Wars.”  He paused, his voice becoming somber.  “And he was the hero of the second war with the First Imperium.”  Both men were silent for a moment.  They knew all too well that Erik Cain had not come back from that last struggle.

Campbell broke the silence.  “Erik Cain was a man who did more than his share, no one can ever argue that.  He was a true hero, in every sense of the word.”  Changing the subject:  “So what is it you want me to do, Roderick?”

Vance let out a soft breath, still remembering some of his encounters with Cain.  The two had shared a cynicism, and also a determination, subconscious in Cain at least, not to allow their pessimism to interfere with duty.  No man had ever fought harder and sacrificed more for mankind, while fundamentally believing in it so little.  He’d spent his life at war to give people chances and freedoms he believed with all his heart they would squander and abuse.  And Vance knew his own beliefs weren’t far from what Cain’s had been.

He pulled his thoughts back to the matter at hand.  “There are raiding parties attacking settlements on Earth, Duncan.  I don’t know why or what is behind it all, but the situation is worsening.”  He paused, feeling uncomfortable even discussing the subject.  “The council is adamant about not committing any Martian military assets, even just to investigate.  They feel we have enough to do continuing to rebuild the Confederation, and they will not approve anything other than the basic food and medicine drops.”

Campbell sighed softly.  “I’m inclined to agree with you that such policy is short-sighted, but I’m not sure what I can do.  Your influence is vastly greater than my own.  If you can’t sway them, I don’t see how I…”

“I don’t want you to sway them, Roderick.  I want you to help me get around them.  I have already accepted that committing Martian forces is out of the question, at least for the foreseeable future.”  He hesitated.  “But I am prepared to fund a personal expedition, at least to investigate and get some idea of what is going on.  I will pay for everything with Vance Interplanetary’s assets.”

Campbell stared back at his friend.  “I know your holdings are vast, Roderick, but you suffered the effects of the Fall as badly as anyone.  Your resources are not what they were, old friend, and military expeditions are extremely costly.  You could risk your family’s entire legacy.”

Vance smiled.  “The company is not so close to the edge as it was just after the attacks, Duncan.  It can manage a small expedition.  I’m not talking about funding a war.  Just finding out what is going on—and doing it with a force large enough to take care of itself.”

“You want to hire a mercenary company.”

Vance nodded.  “Not just any company.  I want you to take a ship and go see Darius Cain for me.”

Campbell stared back in shock.  “You want to hire the Black Eagles?  But Darius Cain and his people are…”

“Butchers?  Barbarians?  Come on, Duncan, you don’t really believe any of that.  The boy’s got a healthy dose of his father’s cynicism, no doubt, but if you ignore the spin and the tall tales, he’s a professional soldier through and through.  And he’s as good as they come.”  He paused.  “And I’m not trying to hire the entire company, just a detachment to do some investigating on Earth and to try to get some idea who is attacking settlements.  That’s all.  We’re not talking about a war.”

“Do the Eagles even take small jobs like that?  They’re at the top of the food chain, Roderick, the best military force in Occupied Space.  Planets mortgage their futures to hire them.  What would they want with a piddling job like this?”

Vance nodded.  “You’re right.  That is why I want to send you as my personal envoy.  I’d go myself if I thought I could get away without drawing undue attention.  I’m hoping Darius will do this for us…for me.  I’ve met the boy a number of times, and he knows how closely his father and I worked together.”  He paused, his voice becoming sadder when he continued.  “And whatever anyone says about Darius Cain, he loved his father without question.  His whole life since Erik’s disappearance, the Eagles and all the campaigns they have fought—it’s all been his way of living up to Erik’s legacy.”  He paused again.  “I think he will do this for us.”

Campbell nodded and sat quietly for a few seconds.  “How far forward have you considered this?  You may not be planning on funding a war, but what if your investigation leads to one?”

Vance took a deep breath then exhaled.  “Well, I suppose that is a possibility.  Perhaps solid evidence of external tampering on Earth will be enough to awaken the council to the danger and spur them to action.  I guess I will cross that bridge when I come to it.”  He stared across the table, his eyes locked intently on Campbell’s.  “So will you go, old friend?  Will you help me investigate what is going on?”

Campbell nodded slowly and offered his friend a faint smile.  “Of course I will go.”  He smiled.  “Retirement’s a fucking bore anyway.”

*        *        *        *        *

“Andre, thank you for meeting me down here.”  The sounds of heavy machinery almost drowned out Vance’s words.  The room was huge, the far wall barely visible in the distance.  There were massive turbines all around, and a series of 20-meter high pumps along the far wall, connected to conduits taller than a man.  The chamber was the very heart of the Ares Metroplex, pumping air and water and heat to the residences and commercial areas of the subterranean complex.

“Of course, Roderick.  When have you called that I have not come?”  Vance had known Andre Girard for seventy years.  He’d been a teenager when they’d first met.  Girard had been one of his father’s brash young agents at the time.  When the elder Vance was tragically killed, Girard had helped Roderick fill his father’s chair far too early.  Much of Vance’s knowledge then, especially his tradecraft and understanding of the scope of Martian Intelligence’s operations, had come right from Girard.

Vance smiled weakly.  “You have been a loyal friend and companion, Andre, for more years than I care to count.”  His voice was halting.  He’d called his friend to ask him to do something, but now he found it difficult to speak the words.

“I can’t recall the last time I saw you so troubled.  What is it, my old friend?  There is no problem you cannot share with me.”  Girard stood tall and proud, and he looked decades years younger than his 107 years.

“It is not doubt about your trustworthiness that worries me, Andre.  It is what I must ask of you that gives me pause.  Your life has been one of service, most of it in secrecy.  You have done as much as any man to guide the Confederation and to save if from the forces that might easily have destroyed it, but for you there have been no parades, no medals.  Just the silent commendation of your spymasters.  It is the bane of the successful spy, to live a life of such danger and to enjoy so little appreciation.”  He paused uncomfortably.  “And now I must ask you to do something above and beyond all you have already done…and at great risk to yourself.”

“Roderick,” the old spy said, “parades and medals are meaningless to me.  I’ve had all the accolades I could have wanted, from you and your father before you.  Do I seem like a man who craves cheering crowds or little hunks of gold and silver on my chest?  No…for me, the respect and admiration of men I admire is all I ever wanted.”  He reached out and put a weather-worn hand on Vance’s arm.  “Now tell me what is going on.  And what you need of me.  I am, as always, at your service.”

Vance took a deep breath.  “I may be overreacting about this.  Indeed, this may be no more than my own paranoia.”

“Save that for someone who knows you less well than I, Roderick.  I have learned to trust your judgment without reservation.  If you told me you expected a fire breathing dragon to attack the city, I’d get myself a flame-retardant suit.”

Vance allowed himself a tiny smile, but it faded quickly from his lips.  “Very well, Andre.  You know, of course, that we have long been providing humanitarian supplies to settlements on Earth?”

Girard nodded.

“You are also aware that the council has expressly forbidden any expansion of the program?  No provision of technology, no military units deployed to the surface?”

“Yes,” Girard said softly.  “At least my knowledge of the relief operation strongly suggests this.  Though, my information pipeline in retirement is not what it was before.”  After a brief pause:  “I hadn’t been aware that you’d tried to obtain authorization for more.”

“Indeed, I have.  The population of Earth is less than 2% of what it was before the Fall, yet there are as many human beings still living on man’s homeworld—in conditions of miserable squalor—than there are in the rest of Occupied Space combined.  I understand caution, and I realize the Confederation has suffered greatly too and must focus its resources on its own recovery.  But to do nothing—or as little as we have done—is a crime against humanity.”  The frustration of a dozen past arguments came out in Vance’s tone.  “I mean, the Superpowers aren’t going to reappear if we give the survivors heaters and basic electrical generation.  And those survivors were as much victims of the Powers they were compelled to live under as anyone else.”

“They do not resist out of callous or selfish impulses, Roderick.  They are afraid.  The council is mostly civilian, industrialists and financiers.  They saw most of their wealth evaporate in Stark’s final assault and the Fall.  They watched as the citizens of our four largest cities retreated underground, seeking safety from the destruction.”

The sounds of the machinery almost drowned out their words, and Girard leaned in, closer to Vance’s ear.  “Even three decades later, they look inward…back, not ahead.  They see most Martians still living below ground, in the tunnels beneath the shattered domes.  They see how much weaker we are than we were before, how much of our old industry is gone.  And the Second Incursion scared the hell out of them…it reminded them the First Imperium—and God knows what else—is still out there.  And mankind is vastly weaker than he once was, far less able to face new threats.”

“But that fear pushes them to make us weaker.  It feeds on itself.  Surely, they should understand.”

“They should, Roderick.  But they do not.  And they will not.”  He paused and stared into his friend’s eyes.  “It is clear to me you need something done.  Something not sanctioned by the council.”  He offered Vance a warm smile.  “So, why don’t you just tell me what it is and be done with it?”

Vance stood quietly for a few seconds, an expression of surprise on his face.  “Now I remember why you were such a cornerstone of intelligence operations for 70 years.”  He hesitated a few more seconds.  “I want to send someone to Earth, Andre.  Someone reliable.”  Another pause.  “In direct violation of council orders.”

Girard stared back emotionlessly.  If he was surprised by Vance’s statement, he hid it completely.  “Clearly there is a problem on Earth beyond a lack of portable heaters.  What is happening, Roderick?  What do you fear?”

“There have been reports, Andre…for several years now.  People disappearing, rumors of kidnappers rounding up stragglers.”

Girard’s face was cold, expressionless.  Mass kidnappings could be a number of things, but none of them were good.  “Is it widespread?”

“I hadn’t thought so.”  Vance’s voice was grim.  “But I was wrong.  And that is why you are here.”

Andre took a deep breath.  “So what do you know?  And what do you need me to go find out?”

“We had a list of settlements, big ones, places to start if we ever managed to get council approval for expanded operations.  One of these was called Jericho.  It was in the northeast of the old US section of the Alliance.  Mostly refugees from New York and Boston.”

“Was?”

“Yes.  Was.  That is the problem.  There were over a thousand people in Jericho.  It was one of the biggest settlements on Earth.”  Vance sighed.  “I had given the larger villages radios—a borderline violation of council orders, but close enough to the gray area.  They had instructions never to use them except in an emergency.  The Jericho unit transmitted a distress call for 41 minutes…and then it went dead.”

“You think someone attacked Jericho?  I would have thought a settlement that big was strong enough to fend off any threats still existing on Earth.”

Vance nodded.  “You’d be right.  There are no other villages or wandering bands capable of destroying something like Jericho.  But it was nevertheless destroyed.  I was able to confirm it with scanner readings from the observation satellites.  It is completely abandoned, burned to the ground.”  He looked right into Girard’s eyes.  “It had to be a force from off-world.  Jericho was just too big to be wiped out by anything else.”