To Hell's Heart (Crimson Worlds)

by Allan, Jay

  To Hell’s Heart

  Crimson Worlds: Book VI

  By Jay Allan

  Copyright © 2013 Jay Allan Books

  All Rights Reserved

  By Jay Allan

  Tombstone (A Crimson Worlds Prequel)

  Bitter Glory (A Crimson Worlds Prequel)

  Marines (Crimson Worlds I)

  The Cost of Victory (Crimson Worlds II)

  A Little Rebellion (Crimson Worlds III)

  The First Imperium (Crimson Worlds IV)

  The Line Must Hold (Crimson Worlds V)

  To Hell’s Heart (Crimson Worlds VI)

  The Last Veteran (Shattered States I)

  The Dragon's Banner (Pendragon Chronicles I)

  Upcoming

  The Gates of Hell (A Crimson Worlds Prequel)

  (November 2013)

  The Shadow Legions (Crimson Worlds VII)

  (December 2013)

  Even Legends Die (Crimson Worlds VIII)

  (March 2014)

  Join my email list at www.crimsonworlds.com for publication announcements and free copies of select stories throughout the year (email addresses never shared). Please feel free to email me with any questions at jayallanwrites@gmail.com. I answer all reader emails

  Follow me on Twitter @jayallanwrites.

  www.crimsonworlds.com

  It is only those who have neither fired a shot nor heard the shrieks and groans of the wounded who cry aloud for blood, for vengeance, for desolation. War is hell. – William Tecumseh Sherman

  Prologue

  Regency Chamber

  Planet Shandrizar – Deneb VIII

  The Regent seethed. It was inexplicable, infuriating. The New Ones were primitives, barbarians. They infested their worlds, living in primitive squalor, but arrogant nevertheless, thinking themselves an advanced power. The Regent had expected to sweep them away with a minimum of effort. But that had not happened. Their technology was backward, that was undeniable, but they were highly skilled at war. How, the Regent wondered, could they have so much experience at battle? The Imperium had long ago destroyed all its enemies. In all of the vastness of explored space, the Regent knew of no other races, save those that had sworn fealty to the Makers…and vanished along with them eons before.

  The Regent tasted the bitterness of its failure, and it knew frustration. It reviewed all that had happened, all the events that had defied its expectations. For an instant, a nanosecond beyond the comprehension of any organic being, it considered communicating with the New Ones. Perhaps they were worthy of survival. Perhaps the Regent should parlay with them before launching its final assault. Could these creatures end the Regent’s endless, crushing loneliness? Could they be friends?

  But time and isolation had done their damage. The Regent’s reason had deserted it, replaced with rage…with insanity. Communication was irrelevant, peace unthinkable. The New Ones were invaders, enemies…they were an infestation. They would be exterminated.

  The Regent had launched its invasion with regional forces, light vessels more suited to scouting and patrol duties than warfare against a skilled enemy. Now it realized the New Ones were too capable at war, too effective at combat to be eliminated with such forces. It would not repeat its error. The New Ones would face the true might of the Imperium, the vast forces of total war that had lain dormant for untold millennia.

  Throughout the Core Worlds, more and more ancient ships began to heed the Regent’s call. Most of the power the Imperium had once wielded was gone, lost to the ravages of time. But even that small portion that remained was unimaginably potent, a nightmare beyond the worst imaginings of the New Ones. Perhaps, the Regent thought, their recent victories had given them hope. A tremor passed through its systems; an organic being would have called it amusement. These barbarians had no conception of what they faced; now they would finally meet the unleashed might of the Imperium. They would at last understand true power. And they would know the desperate emptiness of hopelessness.

  The Regent reviewed its plans and the order of battle it was now sending forth. Hundreds of ships stirred…thousands. It was but a tithe of the Imperium’s former power, but still it was an unfathomable massing of strength. Immense battleships, one hundred times the size of the feeble craft the New Ones possessed, slowly fed power into long-dormant systems, moving toward warp gates from hundreds of systems, converging on the rally point. For the first time in 500,000 years, in all of the endless centuries of the Regent’s dominion, the Imperial Fleet was assembling…and all the might that was wrought by the Makers was moving to destroy an enemy.

  Chapter 1

  AS Midway

  In Sandoval Orbit

  Delta Leonis IV

  “The Line”

  Erik Cain’s mind drifted hazily as he stared through the observation portal into the deep blackness of the Delta Leonis system. He found the endless void hypnotic, soothing…the quiet peacefulness beckoning, drawing him in.

  Peace, he thought…is there really such a thing? Cain could hardly remember feeling at peace. Perhaps when he was a young boy, before his family was cast out of the relative comfort and safety of the Midtown Protected Zone into the violent ghettoes of lower class New York. But that was a distant memory now, almost a dream. And he had a lifetime of reality arguing that peace was little more than a fantasy, and a fool’s one at that.

  He scowled derisively, chiding himself for his self-indulgence. You’re not even a fit creature for peace, he thought grimly…all you are good for is war. And Cain was certainly good for war, even he had to acknowledge that. He’d survived countless desperate battles and led his Marines to victory after victory. He’d longed for peace once, but no longer. Such wishes were a waste of time. Peace was indeed for dreamers, and Erik Cain was nothing if not a realist.

  He’d fought the greatest battle of his career on the planet below, and he’d decisively defeated the invasion forces of the First Imperium. In the aftermath of his triumph, he’d been hailed as a hero, and so far he’d managed to remain gracious as unwanted congratulations and rewards were heaped on his shoulders. There was no joy for Cain, however, no elation at the victory. A battle was over, that was true. But he knew the war was far from finished…and he was well aware that the frightful price his people had paid already was just a down payment on what it would cost to win the final victory. If winning was even possible.

  He sighed as he looked out into the depths, wondering what awaited his brethren and him lightyears away, beyond the furthest reaches of man’s explorations. Humanity had begun to consider the universe its own private dominion, and the events of the past few years had come as a rude awakening. There were others out among those stars, that was now an established fact…and they’d gotten there first, long before man ventured off his native world. Even if the Alliance and its new allies managed to survive this fight, the universe would never be the same again. It had become a darker place…dangerous, foreboding. The hope for the future that had driven the early settlers had transformed, morphed into caution. Into fear.

  He’d begged Holm to spare him another round of pointless decorations, but it turned out to be easier to defeat the enemy than to escape the glittering prizes that followed the victory. It had been years since Cain had considered a medal anything but a burden, a constant reminder that his glory had been bought with the blood of his men and women. But he knew Holm was just as powerless to stop the accolades, and he smiled and acted grateful for the awards, even as he forced the bile back down his throat.

  Buckets of that blood – the blood of his Marines - had been spilled on Sandoval. First Army had lost over 30,000 dead, a toll that still seemed somehow unreal to Cain. He’d come up during a time of massive
change in how war in space was waged. His first drop had been part of an operation comprised of a few hundred combatants, with a captain in charge of the whole thing. On Sandoval he’d had over a hundred thousand troops, supported by tanks, artillery, and aircraft…not to mention a roomful of generals to command it all. As always, he thought, man’s most noteworthy achievements were in the waging of war. We’re very good at killing each other, he thought…at least for once that skill has proven truly useful. This time men weren’t fighting each other, they were united against a common enemy. Cain had expected that to make a difference, and it had…to a point. But his Marines – and their allies – were just as dead in the radioactive dust of Sandoval.

  Still, this war was different from the others he’d fought. It felt more righteous, more honorable. His Marines and their allies were standing between humanity and a ruthless alien enemy bent on genocide. Mankind, always so prepared to resort to violence to solve any problem, hadn’t started this conflict. For once, humanity was an innocent victim, standing before a hostile universe struggling to survive. The fatigue, the exhaustion, the grief at the losses…it was the same as it had been in his other wars. But that wasn’t the whole story this time. If man was going face extinction, Cain was going to be on the front lines, standing before the enemy and unleashing hell. As grimly as he’d come to think of humanity’s future, he’d be damned if some ancient alien race was going to come in and wipe it out.

  The war was different in another way. There were more than friends in the line with Cain and his Marines; there were old adversaries too. Fighting alongside former enemies had been difficult at first, but the Janissaries and other contingents of the Grand Pact had proven themselves to be surprisingly similar to his own Marines. Perhaps not as skilled, save for the Janissaries, but driven by many of the same motivations nevertheless. They’d died in the line, fighting alongside his Marines…that much he knew for certain. He wasn’t sure he needed to know anything more.

  “I knew I’d find you here.”

  Cain turned, abruptly at first, as combat reflexes responded faster than recognition. He stood at attention and started to snap off a salute, but his visitor waved him off almost immediately.

  “Forget the ceremony, Erik. I just wanted to have a quick word with you.” Elias Holm was the Commandant of the Marine Corps, Cain’s direct commander. His only senior, at least in the ground forces of the Alliance. Admiral Garret was unofficially considered the overall commander-in-chief of the Alliance’s military and, with the formation of the Grand Pact, he had been formally named supreme military commander of the full multinational force. As highly ranked as Holm was, and Cain as well, Garret was at the top of the pyramid.

  “What can I do for you, sir?” Cain motioned toward a bank of chairs, but Holm shook his head and walked up next to his friend and protégé.

  “It is beautiful, isn’t it?” Holm stood looking out into the velvety blackness, pinpricked with stars. “I can see why you find it relaxing to come here.”

  “It’s an illusion, sir.” There was exhaustion in Cain’s voice, deep down somewhere. It would have been hidden to most people, but not to Holm.

  “We’ll see, Erik.” Holm put his hand on his younger companion’s shoulder. “If we can win this war, things will be different. It won’t be so easy for the governments to go back to their old ways.”

  Cain was silent for a few seconds. Finally, he croaked out a soft, insincere, “Maybe.” Holm was more of an optimist than Cain; he was far likelier to look into the future and see hope. Cain considered himself a realist, though he was pessimistic about most things. But in spite of himself, he believed in more than he sometimes realized. His Marines, certainly, and the spirit of the colonies, which to him represented man’s future. The fire of that hope had waned a bit over the years, and Cain wondered if those colonies would manage to avoid the deadening hand of the Earth governments…and even if they did, as they grew, would they escape the home world’s fate?

  “I’ll take a maybe out of you, since it’s the best I’m likely to get.” Holm knew Cain better than anyone, but he still had a frustratingly incomplete picture of his friend’s thoughts and motivations. Erik Cain was an odd duck, there was no doubt about that. A loner at heart, he could step into a command and lead thousands into battle. He loved his Marines, sparing no effort to see to their needs and mourning them bitterly when they were lost. Yet he ruthlessly expended them in battle, doing whatever was necessary to win.

  “It is. Sir.” Cain let a tiny smile creep onto his lips. He’d been a fairly cheerful sort as an enlisted man, but he’d taken the burdens of command to heart. Over the years, that responsibility had worn on him greatly. He wondered sometimes if his younger self would recognize the grim creature he’d become.

  “Well, that’ll do.” Holm’s lips bore a passing smile as well. “Because that’s not why I’m here.” His voice became darker, more serious.

  “I figured it wasn’t all fun and games.” Cain’s tone had returned to its usual cold emotionlessness. “What can I do for you, sir?”

  “Admiral Garret and I are going to Earth.”

  “My sympathies, sir.” Cain had no particular love for the world of his birth. Indeed, he’d promised himself many times that he would never return.

  Holm stifled a laugh. “I’m not looking forward to it any more than you would, Erik, but there’s no alternative.” The concern was heavy in Holm’s voice; all traces of his earlier cheerfulness were gone. “The governments want to refortify the Line and stand on the defensive. They think it’s too risky to invade enemy space.”

  Cain sighed softly. “I can’t say I’m surprised, sir.” There was more than a little disgust in his voice. “They use up all their courage grinding helpless Cogs into the ground. Why should we expect them to have any left to face the real enemy?”

  Holm turned to face Cain. “That may be true, Erik, but whatever their motivations, we need to change their minds. We can’t exactly launch an operation like this without Earth support, not without a lot of problems.” His eyes bored into Cain’s. “You know that.”

  Cain remained silent for a moment, turning to stare back out into space. “Yes,” he finally said. “I know that.” He sounded like he’d bitten into something sour.

  “And you know we have to take the war to the enemy?” It was half statement, half question.

  “Yes.” Cain’s response was immediate this time, his voice firm with resolution. “We have to invade the First Imperium.” He turned back toward Holm. “You and I both know we can’t win a war of attrition against a race with the capabilities of this enemy.” He took a deep breath, exhaling slowly. “We have to attack them, hurt them somehow or find some weakness we haven’t seen yet.” He paused again, just for a few seconds. “Otherwise it’s only a matter of time before they wear us down. Then it will just be a question of mopping up occupied space.” He stared at Holm, not a trace of emotion in his voice. “And that will be the end.”

  “I wasn’t going to put it quite that way.” Holm almost smiled. He’d known Cain would manage to put a darker cast on things than he had, and his protégé hadn’t disappointed. Still, he knew the younger officer was correct. The First Imperium was clearly determined to wipe out mankind and, so far, every attempt at communication had been rebuffed. Standing on the defensive was a fool’s game, a ludicrous bet that the enemy couldn’t mount an even stronger attack than they had before…and the first one had come close to succeeding.

  “But you’re right. The entire high command agrees…Garret, Compton, Gilson, Ali Khaled. Even old An Ying.” The CAC commander-in-chief was notoriously conservative, having come to power in the aftermath of the disastrous Third Frontier War. Cain was a little surprised the old man had enough clarity of thought to reach the same conclusion as his peers. Not to mention the courage to state it openly. Gambles and aggressive action were not generally conducive to success – or survival – in the CAC’s rigidly statist regime.

  “Wha
t do you want me to do, sir?” Cain managed a brief grin. “You don’t expect me to convince any politicians of anything, do you?”

  Holm let out a small laugh. “No, Erik. I’m not that senile yet. But I do need your help.” The amused tone fell quickly from his voice – he was all business now. “I need you to organize the ground forces, get them ready for the invasion. If we get the go ahead, we want to be ready as soon as possible. If we give the enemy time, they’ll be back, and we’ll be on the defensive again.”

  “You want me to get 1st Army ready?” Cain’s voice was confident. “I’ve already got that underway, sir. I can assure you that we’ll be good to go whenev…”

  “Not 1st Army, Erik.” Holm looked right into Cain’s eyes. “The ground forces of the Grand Pact. All of them.”

  Cain stared back, the shock evident on his face. “Sir…” For once, Erik Cain didn’t know what to say. “I’m, ah…honored. But I don’t have that kind of authority, general.”

  “You do now, Erik.” Holm spoke slowly, firmly. “Ali Khaled and An Ying have already agreed. In my absence, you are the acting ground forces commander of the Grand Pact.”

  Cain looked at Holm, stunned. For a moment it was totally quiet on the observation deck, save for the background hum common to space ships. Finally, Holm broke the silence. “Erik, you have my complete confidence. You know that.”

  “Yes, general.” Cain spoke slowly, haltingly. “But…”

  “No buts, Erik.” Holm tightened his grip on Cain’s shoulder. “That heavy rep you’ve been building all these years has finally paid off. It wasn’t even hard to convince everyone.” He took a quick breath. “And I need you, Erik. There’s no one else I trust to handle things. If we get the authorization for the invasion, Garret and I want everything ready to go as soon as we get back.”