by Eric Thomson
“Which explains how elite troops ended up on this backwater. Nepotism.”
“Things didn’t go well for them. DeCarde’s battalion, what’s left of the 14th Guards and Countess Klim, along with her closest staff, are holed up in one of those indestructible, hundred thousand year-old alien fortresses carved into a mountain range. Apparently, the countess and her Guards ran a very inept, bloody and criminal counterinsurgency campaign before the Pathfinders landed.
“DeCarde claims her unit didn’t take part in the atrocities or the scorched earth policy imposed by Klim, but the rebels lumped them in with the Guards. As a result, anybody wearing the imperial crown is on the rebels’ summary execution list. Surrender apparently means instant death for the Pathfinders and a more protracted agony for the Guards via what DeCarde figures are extermination camps set up to deal with loyalists. But failing that, the rebels intend to let them starve inside the fortress rather than waste more blood, since they’re now in full control of Coraline.”
“So the rebellion is in control, but not in contact with the wider uprising.”
“Aye.” Morane nodded. “Subspace communications facilities are gone, destroyed, and we’re the first starships to pass through in three months. Since this place isn’t a major wormhole junction and has no strategic value for Admiral Loren or the empire, I expect Coraline will be among the first human worlds to wither away. They’ve already wiped out their satellite constellation and shot down a lot of the atmospheric fliers to blind each other. I would imagine this sort of scenario is occurring everywhere in human space.”
“What’s the Pathfinders’ strength?”
“DeCarde’s battalion consists of five hundred and fifty-two, two dozen of them injured; the 14th Guards number just over fifteen hundred, with several dozen injured; Countess Klim’s staff numbers sixty-five, she included.”
A look of alarm spread across Mikkel’s face. “We can’t take over two thousand people aboard our three ships, sir.”
“I know, Iona. I’ll let you read DeCarde’s situation report at your leisure, so you understand what I’m about to propose and why.”
Mikkel grunted. “You intend to take only the Pathfinders and leave the others to their fate? Harsh.”
“But necessary.”
“What if DeCarde is lying about her involvement in the counterinsurgency?”
“Read her report and tell me what you believe. It’s surprisingly candid, and she attached a copy of her unit’s war diary. She doesn’t explicitly come out and say it, but I sense she’ll gladly renounce the empire if it helps her battalion escape Coraline, where they face certain death.”
“And the Guards or the governor general?”
“I doubt she gives a damn about their fate. Again, I’m reading between the lines, but the Imperial Marine Corps has always considered the Guards an unconstitutional abomination.”
“Then we face a real challenge getting her unit out of that fortress. She’s hemmed in by rebels on one side, and a desperate Guards Regiment seeking escape on the other. We have to avoid letting the latter swamp our shuttles.”
“I know, Iona. But first, let’s bring the battle group into Coraline orbit so DeCarde and I can speak without a time lag. I’m sure she’ll tell us how we might best extract them. They’re trained for situations such as this one.”
“After you satisfy yourself we’re not bringing rabid wolves into the fold, sir.”
Morane dipped his head to acknowledge the first officer’s caution. “Of course. I shall have a very candid conversation with Lieutenant Colonel DeCarde to make sure she’s not a war criminal lying to save her skin. You may recall that I’m a reasonably good judge of people.” He pointed at the display. “Now read.”
Fifteen minutes later, Mikkel turned back to her captain and grimaced. “What a fucked-up situation. How did we ever reach this point?”
“That is a question best debated in the wardroom, drink in hand. And there’s no time for philosophical discussions until we’ve safely left the empire in our wake.”
“The Lyonesse system is still an imperial possession.”
“Until we arrive. Now, what do you think of DeCarde’s candor?”
“If what she sent us is the unvarnished truth, then I agree. Let’s see what we can do.”
“I’m glad you agree.” He touched the screen embedded in his desk. “Captain to the bridge.”
“Officer of the watch here.”
“Take the battle group to Coraline and place us in a geosynchronous orbit above the Talera Mountains.”
**
Dagon Verkur barged into DeCarde’s office unbidden and took a seat across from her.
“Are you talking to someone up there?” He waved his hand at the gray granite ceiling. “Because my command post just intercepted a message that appeared to originate from above the planet’s surface. We couldn’t decrypt it since the Fleet isn’t inclined to give us Guards a copy of your algorithms. Tell me, has the Navy suddenly reappeared? And if so, are they loyalists or rebels?”
“Please come in, Dagon. Take a seat, Dagon. What can I do for the 14th Guards, Dagon?” DeCarde smirked at him. “Now what’s this about mysterious messages from the ether?”
“Please, Brigid. Cut the crap. If my people received that transmission, yours will have too. Is help on the way, or are the insurgents getting fire support from orbit so they can turn the Talera Range to rubble instead of waiting until we starve?”
DeCarde climbed to her feet and stuck her head into the command post next door. She caught Centurion Haller’s eye and gave her a ‘play along’ stare. “The Guards intercepted an encrypted message in the last hour. Did we as well?”
“Yes, Colonel. I was trying to find its origin and encryption protocol before telling you. So far, no luck with either.”
“Thank you.” DeCarde turned back toward Verkur. “There you go, Dagon. We’re in the dark too. Maybe they’re talking to the rebels, in which case we can expect a deluge of fire and brimstone momentarily. Klim Castle might be the toughest thing on Coraline. But I should think even it can’t resist a few dozen penetrator rounds slamming into the mountain at terminal velocity, in spite of the alien magic that kept this place more or less intact for a hundred millennia.”
“So we die a little sooner.” Verkur stood. “You’ll let me and the countess know if you discover anything of interest, won’t you, Brigid?”
DeCarde nodded. “Of course.”
The Guards officer must have thought her expressionless face hid secrets because his eyes hardened with skepticism. “Make sure you do so.”
Once he was gone, she exhaled noisily and turned her eyes to the map projection in one corner of the makeshift office, a cube-like space burned out of the rock with the same uncanny precision as everything else deep inside the mountain range.
Between them, the rebels and the 14th Guards Regiment might make sure any escape becomes a dicey proposition — if this Vanquish actually had room for her battalion and was willing to take them off Coraline. There were precious few safe landing zones with the rebels controlling the surrounding countryside, save for a flat, clear space above the main fortifications, where its builders had sliced off a mountaintop. But it was covered by the last of the imperial aerospace defense guns.
And now that the Guards knew someone out there was talking to Coraline, they’d be listening intently to intercept any further communications, as would the insurgents, no doubt. They might be vicious in their hatred for the empire and its representatives, but they weren’t stupid.
— 9 —
Lieutenant Vietti let out a low whistle when a bird’s-eye view of the ancient fortress appeared on the bridge’s main display after Vanquish settled into geosynchronous orbit above Coraline.
“That is seriously impressive.”
“And seriously old.” Morane ran his hand, fingers splayed, through his short, stiff hair. “They say the ancestors of the Shrehari built it during a previous civilization cycle
when our ancestors still hunted animals with stone-tipped spears.”
“I bet future humans won’t find anything like that left over from our era. Just look at the thing. It’s what? Two-and-a-half kilometers long at the top and goes who knows how deep.”
“Those ancients were more advanced than we are.” Morane studied the dark gray, almost black fortifications rising from steep slopes in precise blocks hundreds of meters to a side as if birthed by the mountains themselves. “Apparently, those shiny walls are impervious to lasers, plasma and chemical explosives, which is probably why the loyalists chose it as their last redoubt.”
“Nukes should do the job,” Vietti replied, eyes narrowed in thought, “but this close to Alexandretta, the rebels would be pissing in their own soup.”
“They’ve done enough of that already,” Chief Lettis’ disembodied voice said over the live connection between the bridge and the CIC. “There’s not a single intact satellite left in orbit, only junk. It’s a good thing Coraline had no inhabited orbital platforms. Otherwise, we’d be picking up frozen stiffs.”
Morane and his first officer exchanged glances. “And so it begins,” the latter murmured.
“Indeed.” Then, in a louder voice, “Signals, please ping our Marine friends on the same frequency as before, using the same encryption. But make it a narrow beam transmission, so we don’t alert the rebels besieging...” He turned to Mikkel. “What did DeCarde call the fortress again?”
“Klim Castle, though its official name is the Talera Fortress.”
“Right. So we don’t alert the rebels besieging Klim Castle. Once they reply, we can narrow the beam down to its point of origin and make sure even the 14th Guards can’t overhear.”
“Unless their command posts overlap from our angle,” the signals petty officer warned. A few minutes passed while Morane and his officers studied the rebel dispositions, then, “They responded and are standing by. We can open a video link whenever you want.”
“Do it.”
The fortress shimmered away, replaced by a blonde woman wearing Marine Corps rifle green battledress. Her sharp, angular features were tight with fatigue and worry, though a spark of hope seemed to shine in those deep blue eyes.
“I’m Lieutenant Colonel Brigid DeCarde, commanding the 6th Battalion, 21st Pathfinder Regiment, sir.” Morane briefly thought she wanted to say more, but deliberately held back.
“Jonas Morane, captain of the fast attack cruiser Vanquish and commanding officer of the 197th Battle Group’s remains. Your sitrep and war diary are interesting, to say the least, Colonel.”
“I wouldn’t call our situation interesting, sir. Desperate seems a more appropriate term. Although it might become of interest to future historians as a case study in how to fuck everything up.”
“If there are future historians.”
DeCarde frowned. “Sir?”
“We — Vanquish, a replenishment ship by the name Narwhal and the frigate Myrtale — are all that’s left of the 197th save for another frigate. It is now on the way to Aramis and Admiral Loren’s forces with those who didn’t want to join us. Four ships out of eighteen. The others were destroyed by rebel Navy units who didn’t even give them a chance to surrender.
“I doubt there will be much left of the empire by this time next year, Colonel. Loren isn’t the only sector commander to mutiny against the Crown and set himself up as a warlord hoping to take the throne for himself. Civil wars often spiral out of control until there’s nothing left.”
DeCarde’s tired face took on a knowing look, and she nodded. “You mean we might finally face the long night of barbarism that’s been predicted for so long, sir.”
Morane gave her an appreciative smile.
“You’ve studied Arnold Toynbee’s modern disciples, I take it? Good. Then this will be easier to explain. I do indeed think we might face a civilization-level collapse and after seeing what both rebels and loyalists did to Coraline in a few short months, I’m more convinced than ever. Without a resumption of shipping and trade, Coraline won’t be able to rebuild and will begin to lose its technological base. Imagine the same scenario repeated on every human world, and you can easily see we’re committing civilizational suicide.
“I’m taking our three ships to a colony established at the far end of a wormhole cul-de-sac which I hope might escape destruction. With a bit of planning and some luck, we might be able to turn this colony into a human knowledge vault and preserve what we can. That way, our descendants might short-circuit the long night and allow for an earlier dawn.”
DeCarde didn’t immediately reply though Morane could see thoughts chasing each other across those intense eyes. Then, she seemed to shake herself. “Permanent exile, in other words, correct?”
“Very much so. The people who left on the other frigate wanted to go home, although I’m not sure about their chances.”
“If you have only three ships and you’re quitting the empire, why are we talking, sir?”
“We picked up your distress signal, and it occurred to me that our human knowledge vault would benefit from experienced ground troops to set the basis for strong defenses.”
“Only if you can lift my entire battalion. We Marines aren’t in the habit of leaving our own behind.”
Morane smiled again. “I’m aware of the Corps’ ethos, Colonel. We can take your five hundred and fifty-two. Barely. Half would go aboard the transport Narwhal and live in makeshift accommodations, but we can accommodate the other half in Vanquish’s Marine barracks if you don’t mind doubling up. It could become a strain on the environmental systems, and rations might become short before we reach our destination unless you bring your own.”
DeCarde’s burst of laughter was as bitter as it was brief. “There’s not much, sir, and most of that is controlled by the 14th Guards at Klim’s orders. Neither trusts us. We didn’t bloody our hands in the name of Empress Dendera or soil our colors by committing acts that violate the Aldebaran Conventions.”
“So I read in your report.”
“It’s accurate to a fault, sir. Even if you had room for the 14th Guards and Klim’s people, I’d recommend against even speaking with them. The Guards are conditioned for loyalty to the Crown and wouldn’t take kindly to Armed Services units fleeing the empire.”
“While you Marines aren’t.”
DeCarde shook her head. “Even a sociopath such as Dendera wouldn’t dare take that step because it would entail mass mutiny. Although I suppose that ship has already sailed.”
“It has.” Morane let out a dry chuckle. “From what little we’ve been able to gather, most of the Corps mutinied. I imagine elite regiments such as the 21st Pathfinders are finding their loyalties severely tested. However, we noticed you didn’t use your full title in the distress signal.”
“That was in case units answering to Admiral Loren, or any other rebellious sector commander picked it up. I wanted a chance to talk before kinetic strikes from orbit finished us off.”
“Do you still consider yourselves loyal, Colonel?”
A grim smile tugged at DeCarde’s thin, bloodless lips. “To who, sir? The empress whose orders put us in a situation where we either die of starvation or are shot by rebels intent on avenging themselves? Certainly not to Governor General the Countess Klim and the 14th Guards Regiment. If I’d known upon landing here that this would be our end, I’d have considered joining the 118th Marines there and then. Now we’ve been tainted by association, it’s too late. The truth, Captain, is that my troopers and I didn’t become Pathfinders for the sole purpose of finding the most useless, stupid death possible. So no, I do not consider myself loyal to Crown and empire anymore.
“My sole remaining loyalty is to my people, and I will do whatever is necessary to save their lives. I don’t mind the idea of dying for a noble cause, but I refuse to die for no damn reason. At least not without trying my best to avoid it. Take my battalion off this shit hole of a planet, and we’ll follow you into permanent exile with
enthusiasm. It beats any other alternative open to us, especially since the Fleet seems intent on self-destructing. The 21st may not even exist as a unit anymore, and few of us can claim close family ties.” DeCarde came to attention. “I place myself and the 6th Battalion under your command, sir.”
Her vehemence and the determination he read in her steely gaze convinced Morane that DeCarde was the real deal. He glanced at Mikkel who was standing beyond video pickup range. She gave him a quick nod of approval and mouthed ‘take them.’
“In that case, Colonel, perhaps we can explore how we’ll lift your five hundred and fifty-two Marines and their gear while incurring no further casualties, from either the rebels or the 14th Guards. Between Vanquish, Narwhal, and Myrtale, we should be able to do so in one go, provided we disregard every single safety limitation placed on shuttle operations.”
“Respecting safety limits in a war zone is vastly overrated, sir. However, I’m sure my folks can come up with a few ideas about how we might carry this off.”
“That’s what I was hoping, Colonel. I’m not particularly experienced in mass troop lifts under enemy fire, nor are my officers.”
— 10 —
DeCarde dropped into her chair once Morane’s image vanished. She felt lightheaded and not a little giddy at the prospect of rescue even if it entailed the end of everything she and her troops knew and loved. The end of their careers as members of the Imperial Marine Corps’ elite Pathfinders. However, if Morane was correct, it could also mean the beginning of something even more important. She gazed around the command post at her staff and saw her own mixed emotions reflected in their eyes. They might survive but at the price of heading into the unknown.