MERCS: Crimson Worlds Successors (24 page)

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“Are you insane, brother?”  There was a ragged edge to Darius’ voice, anger and disgust combined into one caustic tone.  “If I had attacked Glaciem and wanted you to know, I’d have left a message far clearer than scraps of unidentified equipment.  And if I didn’t want you to know, you wouldn’t.  My people are not that sloppy.”

Elias Cain glared across the room.  “Then who could it have been?  Who else with such resources would attack Atlantia’s interests?  Who, except a mercenary angry at his homeworld for branding him the criminal he is?”

“Elias, listen carefully, because I am only going to say this once.”  Darius’ voice had changed.  It was cold now, unemotional.  To most people, it sounded more reasonable than the previous angry growl, but those who knew him well understood that the coldness of this tone was far more dangerous than the fiery anger of the prior one.  “If I cared about Atlantia enough to be angry at what they did to me, I wouldn’t take it out on a few innocent miners.  I would land directly on the planet and drag those lying, power-hungry politicians from their arrogant perches.  I would wait until every communications network on the planet had their cameras in place, and then I would force them to their knees and execute them myself, one at a time.  And then I would leave, for my grievances lie against Atlantia’s government and not its people, save for their negligence in allowing such men and women to lead them.”

“You think you could so easily invade Atlantia?  That your band of cutthroats could destroy our military and take control so easily?”  Elias was just as angry as his brother, and his body was shaking as he spoke.

Darius suppressed an angry laugh.  “Elias, my people could sweep away Atlantia’s pathetic excuse for an army like a hand brushing away flies at a picnic.  You are the expert on suppressing thought and filling prisons.  But this is my skillset.”

“Oh my God, stop!  Both of you!”  Sarah had been on the other side of the room, speaking with Garret and Vance until the escalating confrontation between her sons brought all other conversation to a halt.  She stared at Elias.  “Whatever your quarrels with your brother, it is ridiculous to harbor the belief that he was behind the attack on Glaciem.”

Darius smiled.  “Thank you, moth…”

“And you,” Sarah interrupted, “do you think you persuade anyone of your virtue by speaking of invading your homeworld for vengeance?  Even in jest?  Out of your own mouth, you reinforce the image so many have of you, as a ruthless, soulless conqueror.  Does that make you proud, Darius?  What of your father?  Do you think he would be pleased if he was here?”

The two brothers stood silently, glaring at each other but exchanging no further barbs.  Sarah continued, “Neither of you have lived through the kind of crises your father and I—and Roderick and Augustus—experienced.  But for those of us who have, the situation now looks dangerously like those that came before.”  She turned toward Darius.  “Your Black Eagles twice encountered a mysterious enemy, one equipped with extremely advanced armor and weaponry.   And it is clear that, for all your resources and whatever vague suspicions you harbor, you have no real idea who it is.”

She turned toward her other son.  “And you…you have a destroyed settlement and evidence that you are facing a very advanced and well-equipped foe.  Do you have any idea who attacked you, save your foolish suspicions feeding your petty anger toward your brother?”

She paused, shifting her gaze from one of them to the other.  “Now, you learn that someone has been running a large scale kidnapping operation on Earth, and that thousands have been seized and shipped somewhere unknown, probably to spend the rest of their lives as slaves.  These slave catchers are well-equipped…”  She glared at each of her sons again.  “…just like those who have attacked both of your people.  And now, thanks to agent Girard’s tracker, we know a group of these slavers have landed on Eris, deep in the nearly empty wastes of the outer solar system.”

“Your mother speaks wisely.”  Vance was walking across the room, coming to Sarah’s support with Garret close behind.  “It would be highly coincidental if these were the acts of unrelated parties with such similar—and extraordinary—capabilities.  Yet the alternative is we face an adversary with truly enormous reach, one that could pillage Earth right under the noses of the Confederation, set itself against the Black Eagles, and move against Glaciem.  Not only those efforts indeed, for we have just received word of several other unexplained attacks.  Resource worlds are being targeted, and on each one there is evidence of a highly-advanced combat force, one clearly intended to look like the Black Eagles.”

He turned toward Darius.  “Someone is attempting to frame your people, to spread outrage throughout Occupied Space…and hatred toward the Eagles.”

Darius turned toward Vance.  “Why would they want to do that?  What purpose could it serve?”

“Because your people are the strongest force in Occupied Space, Darius.  Though you have a different purpose and code, the Eagles occupy a position not unlike the Marine Corps did thirty years ago.  You are the most capable, the most veteran military organization in existence.  At least that we know about.”

Vance’s last words hung heavily in the room.  Clearly there was another force out there—and they knew almost nothing about it.

Chapter 19

“Please, Erik, don’t go.  You have done your share.  More.  Let others carry the flag now.”  Sarah was standing behind Cain on the stone patio.  It was almost dusk, and the sun was setting over the waves.  It was a beautiful sight, the last light of day twinkling off the rippling waves.  But she didn’t even see it.  Her mind was in darker places.

Erik Cain stood at the edge of the small stone wall staring out at the same scene but no more aware of it than Sarah.  He wanted nothing so much as to stay on Atlantia with her, to enjoy the life they had built.  Fifteen years.  They had lived fifteen years in near bliss, and Cain had savored every day of it.  He’d even begun to believe that the rest of his life would be the same, that after all the death and destruction, he would live his remaining days in peace and contentment.  But deep down, where the dark side that would always be part of him dwelled, he’d known one day his joyful life would come crashing down.  That the bugle would again call, and that his efforts to resist would be futile.

“I don’t want to go, Sarah.”  His voice was gentle, sad.  He knew how much this was hurting her.  “But I have to.”  He turned to face her.  “You know I have to go.  You read the communique.”  Every word of that fateful message was burned into his mind.  There had been rumors for weeks, and then confirmed accounts.  There was war again in Occupied Space, worlds burning, people dying.  Cain had watched the accounts grimly, but he’d sworn to himself this time men could fight their wars without him.  Then the message from Admiral Garret arrived, and it contained the two words Erik Cain knew he couldn’t ignore.  First Imperium.

Garret had confirmed it.  The mysterious forces attacking colony worlds were the robot legions of that lost ancient empire.  They still appeared to regard the worlds of humanity as being part of their imperium, and they refrained from orbital bombardments and nuclear attacks.  But they remained as genocidal as ever, and they had methodically slaughtered the populations of the invaded planets.

As soon as Cain had read the message, he knew he had to go.  Allowing human worlds to fight each other was one thing.  But the First Imperium was a threat to all.  The fighting was far from Atlantia now, almost on the other side of Occupied Space.  But Cain knew, if the robot legions were not destroyed, they would continue their advance.  If mankind didn’t put forth all its ability to again defeat the nightmarish enemy, eventually they would reach his new home. And then they would kill everyone.  Cain could stay behind, allow others to determine if his family lived or died, but that wasn’t how he was wired.  His mind flashed with waking nightmares, the deadly robot warriors, gunning down Sarah, the twins.  It was more than he could bear.

Sarah sobbed softly, but she didn’t say anything else.  She just stepped forward and held on to him.  He felt her warmth against him, inhaled the sweet scent of her hair.  He wanted to stay on Atlantia with every fiber of his being.  He might turn his back on his duty, allow his comrades to go into battle without him—but the images were still there, Sarah, his sons, lying in pools of blood, slaughtered by the deadly robots.

He stood there, forgetting the time, holding her close to him as dusk slipped into the blackness of night.  Then, slowly, reluctantly, he pulled away.  “I have to get ready.  My ship leaves in the morning.”  He stood for a few seconds, looking into her moist blue eyes, and then he turned and walked into the house.

He slipped into a small room with a wall of windows looking out over the sea.  His study had been a refuge for the last fifteen years, the place he’d gone when he had to be alone.  On the days when the demons of the past burst out of their place deep in the recesses of his mind.

“It is late, General.  Are you having difficulty sleeping again?”  The voice was familiar.  He’d heard it almost every day for the past fifteen years, but now it was taking him back farther, to the battlefields of his younger days.

“No sleep tonight, Hector.”  He’d been in his mid-twenties when he’d first named the AI.  He’d just read the Iliad at the Academy, and he’d been drawn to the doomed Trojan hero.  It had been an impulse then, but now he looked back and saw deeper meaning in his choice.  He could have just as easily chosen Achilles.  The two had both been doomed, neither fated to survive their life of war.  “We’re leaving tomorrow.  Being recalled back to duty.”  It had been more than fifteen years since the AI had been downloaded into Cain’s armor.  Indeed, the fighting suit was down in the storage room, stowed in a box where it had sat undisturbed since he and Sarah had moved in.  It wasn’t normal procedure for a Marine to take his nuclear-powered suit of armor with him into retirement, but no one even tried to tell Erik Cain what to do—or not to do—anymore.

For years he wondered why he’d bothered to bring it, but now he knew he’d realized all along.  War had given him a respite, a period of happiness beyond anything he could have imagined.  But it hadn’t let him go.  It still owned him.  His soul still belonged to the Corps, as it always would.

“Should I download myself into your armor, General?”  Hector had developed a prickly demeanor in Cain’s younger days, part of its programming to adapt itself to the needs of its master.  Cain had complained about Hector’s quirks without ever realizing how effective the AI’s efforts had been in maintaining his focus and controlling his stress.  He still complained about it from time to time, though the AI had long ago evolved its behavior to match an older Cain.  For the last fifteen years, Hector had done little but run the Cain household, answering the com unit, making coffee, running the heating system.  It was almost as if the veteran AI had also retired.  And now it too was going back to war.

“Yes, Hector.  And run a partial power-up sequence and a diagnostic.  The thing’s been sitting there for fifteen years.”

“Very well.  I will proceed with caution.”  There was a brief silence.  “Once more into the breach, General?”

Cain sighed softly.  “Yes, Hector.  Once more into the breach.”

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“We need these ships up and running now, Roderick.”  Augustus Garret stood in the hanger, looking through the clear hyper-polycarbonate wall out onto Phobos’ rocky surface.  The huge bulk of
Pershing
lay in the distance, held in place by a massive framework of steel brackets and surrounded by dozens of other vessels.  It had been barely half a decade since she had been put in place along with the other ships of the Superpowers’ fleets, and now there were crews working night and day to prepare her again for war.

“We’re moving as quickly as possible, Augustus.  We’ve virtually shut down Martian industry.  Every worker with applicable experience, from engineers down to cleaning crew, have been assigned to fleet duty.”

“I know, Roderick.”  Garret realized there had been an edge to his voice, and he knew Vance didn’t deserve that.  Indeed, he doubted anyone could move the recommissioning any faster than the Martian.  But Garret had been to the front already.  He’d seen what the First Imperium forces had left in their wake.  Gregoria, San Rafael, Yang-Tzon…all once-prosperous colonies, now silent graveyards, the bodies of the dead unburied, lying where they had fallen.  Augustus Garret had fought the First Imperium before, and he knew, better than almost anyone, that those dead worlds were a look at mankind’s future.  Unless they could once again defeat the dreaded foe.

Vance moved closer to Garret and put his hand on his friend’s shoulder.  “I understand, Augustus.”  He sighed.  “I knew we’d face trouble again one day, but I hadn’t expected it so soon.  And the First Imperium?  Of everything that could have struck us, that is the most terrible.”  He stared out at the rows of mothballed ships for a few seconds. Then he turned and looked at Garret intently.  “Do you think we have a chance to win this, Augustus?  I mean a real chance?”

The initial war with the enemy had been a holocaust, which had been “won” only by exploding one of the enemy’s massive, planet-killer bombs in the sole warp gate connecting the worlds of the First Imperium with those of Occupied Space.  The perfectly-placed detonation had disrupted the gate, rendering transit impossible for an indeterminate time, generally projected to be measured in centuries—and buying time for humanity to prepare for its next showdown with the robot warriors of the long-dead civilization.  But it had been less than twenty years, not several centuries, and mankind was weaker than it had been, not stronger.

Garret took a deep breath.  “I don’t know, Roderick.”  He turned from the windows and looked at Vance.  “We were vastly stronger when we faced them before.  The Superpowers and all their industry still existed.  And the fleet was so much larger.  We’ve lost so much.  Terrance, and all his ships…”  Garret’s voice trailed off.  When he’d disrupted the warp gate, he’d stranded his best friend, and half of humanity’s ships, beyond the newly created Barrier—and in the midst of a massive First Imperium fleet.  He’d had no choice, but he had still never forgiven himself.

He took another breath, deeper this time.  “Indeed, by the standards of what we faced before, we are doomed.  Militarily, we wouldn’t stand a chance.  But there is a hope.  By all accounts, the forces attacking us are far smaller than those we faced before.  Perhaps we are fighting some isolated group of First Imperium forces, activated by some unknown means.  If so, we have a chance.  If the vast forces of that terrible empire are still trapped behind the Barrier, we may be able to defeat what we now face.”  He sighed.  “Though whatever happens, the cost, I am sure, will be very high indeed.”

“It would seem that mankind again relies upon your skills, Augustus.  Yours and those of your extraordinary companions.  A mere five years after they denied you the resources to maintain your forces.  There is irony in that, is there not?”

“I have come to agree with Erik Cain on this matter.  I fear men will never become what they should be.  They will always make poor choices, fail to look toward the future responsibly.  And yet we must do what we can to save them, for they are all we have.”

Vance didn’t say anything.  Indeed, neither of them did for a long while.  They just stood, watching the tiny shapes of the work crews crawling over the superstructure holding
Pershing
in place.  Soon she would take to space again, along with the other ships of the fleet.  Another battle, one no less desperate than any that had come before.

*        *        *        *        *

“Now, James.  Now is the time.  Bring your forces around.”  Erik Cain stood on a rocky promontory looking out over the battlefield.  His troops were deployed along a narrow frontage, falling back slowly, enticing the enemy forward.  The battle was not a typical one.  Territory didn’t matter.  Normal military tactics didn’t apply.  The robot warriors of the First Imperium didn’t know fear, and they would never yield.  There was only one way to defeat them—total annihilation.  And Cain had planned this battle to achieve just that.  Only one army would leave Caravalis.

Cain and Cate Gilson had led the reconstituted Corps into the war, and there had been half a dozen battles on worlds all along the enemy’s line of advance.  Gilson had been the Marine Commandant, but the prewar Corps had shrunken almost to nothing.  When they’d formed the Army of Man, and absorbed dozens of different contingents from worlds across Occupied Space, they’d agreed to split command.  But then Gilson had been hit on Balzara.  She had survived, at least—and that had been anything but certain at the time—but she was out of the fight for at least a year.  And by then it would all be over.  Either the First Imperium forces would be defeated.  Or man’s last line of defense would be destroyed, and on a thousand planets, the last of humanity would wait silently, helplessly for doom to reach their worlds.

Teller’s command was the strongest in the hodge podge army, consisting mostly of Marines and Janissaries called back to the colors.  They were coming in behind the enemy, slamming the line shut like a trap door.  Then it would be a fight to the finish.  The First Imperium had committed most of its strength to the invasion of Caravalis.  If Cain’s army could prevail there—and Garret’s fleet could win the battle raging in the space above the planet—the rest would just be mopping up.

The past two years of war had been among the bloodiest Cain had fought, and he had struggled to keep his army together, to maintain their morale in the face of devastating losses.  He had precious few old veterans and too many planetary levies and raw recruits.  But every one of them understood they were fighting an enemy that would not stop until all humanity was dead.  There was no possibility of surrender, no chance for survival save to fight.  And Erik Cain had been there, in the front lines of every battle, at each point where his soldiers wavered.  He’d kept the army together and in the field, as much by force of will as anything.  Now was the final contest.  It would be victory or death here.

“We’ll be engaged in ten minutes, Erik.”  Cain could hear the stress in Teller’s voice.  The stakes were as high as they could be, and even grizzled veterans like James Teller were on the verge of collapse.  Cain knew he need a final battle now, and not just because it was the only way to defeat the enemy but because his people couldn’t last much longer.  He’d driven them harder than men could endure, and he coaxed greater strength from them than anyone had imagined possible.  But they were near the end.  This had to be the last battle.