Revenge of the Ancients: Crimson Worlds Refugees III

by Jay Allan

  Cutter nodded. Then he reached down and flipped on the com unit. “Midway,” he said softly. “Dr. Cutter and Dr. Gower for Admiral Compton.”

  “Connecting.” The AI’s voice was somewhat natural sounding, in the vaguely unnatural way they so often were.

  Cutter looked back at Gower. “At least for once we’ve got some good news to report.”

  Potential good news, at least…I hope to hell this works…

  * * *

  “You’re worried about Max.” Sophie Barcomme lay naked under the sheet, her hand on Compton’s chest. She’d rushed right over to Midway, the instant the battle ended. Everyone was clustering around the admiral, cheering, shaking his hand. They still faced the same desperate situation they had before, but for a moment they were celebrating the return of their beloved leader.

  But Sophie had seen it immediately. The tension, the soul-crushing fatigue. She knew more than anyone the price Compton had paid to keep them all alive, the toll the never-ending stress had taken on him. And he looked worse than he had before he’d left. Much worse. She decided immediately she had to try, somehow to make him relax, even for a few moments. She’d thought about taking him aside, asking him to tell her about the past few months. She’d considered leaving him alone, giving him some quiet…and standing guard outside his door, threatening anyone who came to disturb him with all manner of dire fates. But in the end she’d taken a simpler, more direct route. She’d seduced him.

  “Yes,” he said softly. She could hear the worry in his voice, the concern for Harmon and those who had gone with him. And of course for the fleet. They both knew the enemy would be back. And Sophie knew the dirty secret Compton couldn’t admit to anyone else. He had no idea what to do.

  “Max Harmon is an incredibly capable officer, Terrance. He can do this. I’m sure he can.”

  “Are you really?” Compton’s voice was riddled with doubt. “There’s no officer in the service I respect more than Max, but can anybody really pull this off? Invading the home world of the First Imperium with one ship. Landing with thirty people?” He paused, letting out a long exhale. “How did we ever get so desperate?”

  “You’re sorry you weren’t here.” She moved her hand slowly, her fingers grazing the gray hairs on his chest.

  “Yes,” he said. “And no.” He turned his head and looked over at her. “Being away saved me from having to send him.” He took a deep breath. “Which I would have done…I would have had no choice. There’s no question he was the right man for the job. It’s a blessing in some ways, that Erika was here to issue those orders and not me. Perhaps it is cowardice to say that…but I would be lying if I said otherwise.”

  “There isn’t a trace of cowardice in you, Terrance. You didn’t get to see him before he went. I think that’s what’s really bothering you.” Sophie’s voice was soft, consoling. She knew Compton well. It surprised even her how close she had become to him. She still carried the heartbreak for her lost family, but her relationship with Compton helped her keep it all together. She didn’t know if she could have made it without him.

  “Yes,” he answered. “I wish I could have seen him before he went. One more talk. There are…things…I would have said to him.”

  “And you will,” she said softly. “He will be back…and you will have all the time you need to talk.” She was surprised at the sincerity she managed to keep in her voice. It was fake, a performance. In her heart, she too feared they would never see Harmon and his people again. And even if, through some miracle they did return, she doubted the fleet would still be here. The enemy would return—soon—and that would likely be the end. Sophie wasn’t a combat officer, but she knew enough about naval tactics to appreciate just how battered the fleet was…and how outmatched it would be when the next fight came.

  “We’ll see…”

  Sophie snuggled closer to Compton, and she moved her lips to his neck. She couldn’t do much, but she suspected she could keep occupied for a while longer. He’d just begun to respond, turning and reaching his arm around her when the com unit buzzed.

  Compton sighed and rolled over, tapping the bedside unit. “Yes?”

  “Admiral, it’s Dr. Cutter.”

  “Yes, Hieronymus…what is it?” His voice was distracted.

  “I’m sorry, sir…did I interrupt something?”

  “No, not at all.” Yes. “What’s up?”

  “Dr. Gower and I have some good news, sir. We think we have a cure for the plague.”

  * * *

  Sasha Debornan walked slowly down the corridor, staring straight ahead, trying not to draw any attention to herself. She had managed to get to Midway, but she had no duties there, no place to be. She’d been looking for Admiral Compton, but apparently he’d been in his quarters for several hours. That was inconvenient.

  She’d accessed Saratoga’s computer, adding herself to the unscheduled shuttle run that took Admiral West to meet with the newly returned Admiral Compton. Her mission was clear, and she was determined to see it done. She would make contact with Compton, familiarize herself with his routine. Then she would set a time…and contact Rames to synchronize. Admiral West had already returned to Saratoga…and Rames would assassinate her there, at the same moment she killed Compton. In an instant, they would cut the head off the human force, and in the resulting disorder, the Regent’s next attack would be almost assured of victory.

  But it was essential they strike simultaneously. If an attempt was made against either admiral, the Marines aboard the ships would go crazy. They would slam down impenetrable security, and that would be the end. It wouldn’t take long for the humans to connect the assassin to his or her compatriot, the only other survivor from Cornwall. No, they had to strike at one time.

  Her previous logic had proved to be valid. If she and Rames had moved against Admiral West they would have lost the opportunity to assassinate Compton. And while West would be a loss to the fleet, the elimination of Compton was the primary goal. Especially now. The daring mission of the rearguard, and his triumphant return had only increased the devotion of his people. Terrance Compton was extremely dangerous, even facing an enemy as superior as the Regent. His people revered him as a legend, they would do whatever he asked of them, fight like demons with him at their head. Killing him had become more essential than ever.

  Debornan slipped into the small wardroom, sitting down at one of the two workstations. The room was empty. Almost everyone on Midway was on duty, damage control teams—and anyone else they could draft to assist them—frantically repairing the ship’s battered systems. There was no time for relaxing in the wardroom. Not now.

  She slid the stolen credential into the ID slot. The officer hadn’t even felt it when she’d slipped her fingers into his pocket, stealing his card. With any luck, it would be a considerable time before he reported it missing. He was on duty now, and if he noticed it wasn’t in his pocket, he’d most likely just assume he’d left it in his quarters.

  Her fingers flew across the keys, far faster than the old Debornan could have managed. The nano-entity was much better equipped to hack into a computer system than any human, and in a few seconds, she was in. Columns of numbers and letters scrolled down the screen, raw data from the ship’s main system. She assigned herself quarters, an empty cabin on the same level as Compton’s suite. It would be a place to stay out of sight and wait for the right moment.

  Next, she navigated to the main security files, adding an authorization for the officer whose card she’d stolen to draw a weapon. Then she went to the personnel files, swapping her fingerprint and retinal scan for the officer’s.

  Now she was ready. She would go get the weapon, a heavy pistol—a sniper’s rifle or similar weapon might have raised suspicion—and then she would wait in her quarters. She would wait for the chance to kill Terrance Compton.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Access Tunnel Near Imperial Capital

  Deneb VIII

&nb
sp; The Fleet: 71 ships (+1 Leviathan), 17261 crew

  “Vine, Mesner…scout ahead a hundred meters.” Connor Frasier stood in the middle of the tunnel looking forward into the darkness. His visor was on full infrared, but it wasn’t much use in the cool, damp corridor. The walls had been lined with some kind of smooth material, something he’d never seen before. It appeared to be incredibly durable, and it was in remarkable shape for something that had to be half a million years old. Still, time hadn’t been entirely thwarted, and there were cracks and rents in several places, and the water had managed to seep in. The floor was slippery with patches of mossy fungus, and the walls were partially covered with it as well.

  “Yes, Major.” Vine was a sergeant, and as the senior of the two, she answered Frasier’s order. She turned and waved toward Corporal Mesner, who snapped his assault rifle into position and began moving forward without hesitation.

  “And count off steps, you guys. I don’t need you moving outside the covered zone, and you won’t have a scanner lock on us to gauge distance.” The last thing they needed was for someone to stumble out of the range of the stealth generator. They knew the Regent was paranoid enough to launch a genocidal war to exterminate humanity. What it would do when it found out its enemies were even now in its own inner sanctum, moving toward it was anyone’s guess. But it was a good bet it would be ugly.

  “Yes, sir,” came the sharp reply. The two Marines moved off into the darkness.

  Frasier turned and looked back at the pair of corporals carrying the stealth unit. It was far more than two normal men could carry, but two Marines in nuclear-powered armor were different entirely, and they managed the thousand kilos or so fairly easily. It was the bulk more than the weight that was giving them trouble. The thing had clearly not been designed for carrying around. But it was the only way they were going to get at least close to the Regent before the shit really hit the fan.

  “Hey you…” The armored figure moved up toward Frasier. The gait was a bit clumsy, and he’d have given one of his Marines hell for it, but it was nothing short of astonishing for someone as new to a fighting suit as Ana Zhukov.

  Frasier turned around. “You should stay back, Ana. At least until we’ve scouted this tunnel farther forward.”

  She let out a small laugh. “I was thinking the opposite. I should be up there with them. After all, I’m the likeliest one to recognize what we’re looking for.”

  Frasier tensed for a few seconds before he realized she was teasing him. Well, at least partially teasing him. He had no doubt she did believe she should be with the forward pickets…but it didn’t look like she was going to seriously argue the point. Still, it didn’t hurt to put a stop to craziness before it began.

  “Ana, you’re probably the only one here with a chance to get control of the Regent…assuming that virus can even work on something so powerful. You wander to far forward and get yourself killed, and the mission’s over. Finished. Even if we can destroy the Regent, unless you can get it to order its units to stand down, the fleet’s doomed.”

  She nodded, a cumbersome gesture in powered armor. “Fine, I’ll stay back for now.” She stood, two meters away, looking at Frasier.

  “Thank you.” He paused. Then, when she didn’t move: “Staying back means back, Ana.” He pointed down the tunnel. “Over next to the stealth device.” He paused then added, “You’ll have your time to be at the forefront, Ana, but first my job is to get you there.”

  “Okay,” she said softly. She stood looking at him for a few seconds more, and then she turned and walked back.”

  Frasier exhaled hard, and he watched her go. Then he turned and looked forward, into the murky blackness of the tunnel. He couldn’t see his two Marines…they had vanished into the darkness.

  He glanced up at his visor display, more by habit than logic. It was clear, no contacts at all. He felt blind. The device that was hiding them made their own scanners worthless too.

  Mesner and Vine are veterans…they know what to do.

  He tried to calm himself down, to fall back to the wall of confidence that had seen him through his battles. But then he heard the sound, loud, sharp. And another right after…then two more. Gunfire? He wasn’t sure. And then Vine’s voice on the com, the pain clear in every word.”

  “Help…Major…we need help…”

  “Vine!” Frasier yelled.

  No answer.

  “Sergeant Vine! Respond!”

  Still nothing.

  He flipped the com channel. “Lieutenant Foster, get up here with your people. Now!”

  Frasier’s assault rifle was in his hands, pointing down the dark tunnel. He didn’t know what had happened…but he was damned sure of one thing.

  The shit had just hit the fan.

  * * *

  “Scanner report.” Nicki Frette pulled the silver blanket around her shoulders, suppressing a shiver as she stared over at the officer sitting at her station. It was cold on Cadogan right now, damned cold, but she’d held back from burning more battery capacity on the heaters…at least not until it was absolutely necessary. She’d gone through almost forty percent of her power already, and when it was all gone, they were as good as dead.

  “No change, Captain. The task force is still bound for the V18 warp gate, accelerating at 12g. Project they will transit in nineteen hours, six minutes.”

  “Very well, Lieutenant.” She glanced at the readouts on her station. There was no sign they’d been detected. That was a piece of luck, she knew. They were in a hidden spot, just behind one of the planet’s moons, a tidally-locked chunk of rock that offered its perpetual darkside as cover for her vessel. But the stealth device was gone, and even with no active power generation, she knew some First Imperium ship or facility could detect Cadogan at any moment.

  She leaned back, trying to stretch without making too obvious a display out of it. She’d been at her post for a long time, no rest, no downtime, not even a meal more than half a nutrition bar in the last twenty hours. There was nothing to do except wait. But she had no intention of leaving the bridge. If her luck failed, if some random scanner sweep detected her ship, she knew the end would come quickly. And she damned well intended to be at the helm if that happened. She knew she wouldn’t be able to save the ship, but Harmon had made her Cadogan’s captain, and by God, if her ship was going to die it would do so with her on the bridge, fighting the end.

  What is going on down there? Did you make it to the surface, Captain? Are you in the Regent’s inner sanctum?

  She took a deep breath and looked out at the dark shadow of the moon. The planet, she knew, was just beyond. She wanted to believe, to feel confidence that the landing party would succeed, but it seemed like an impossible task. It wasn’t a lack of faith in the people on the surface…they were some of the best in the fleet. But she doubted anyone could pull this off.

  She felt a small shiver, and she fought back a wave of guilt. It felt disloyal not to believe, but she was a veteran naval officer…and it was difficult to overcome her rationality. And she knew the failure of the landing party meant the death of everyone on Cadogan too. She was the captain, but she knew she’d only have one command decision to make. A quick death—firing up the reactor and waiting until the enemy responded to the new contact, or a slow death—waiting until the batteries ran out completely, and gasping for their last breaths in the frigid vessel.

  * * *

  The Regent rejoiced. Or as close to joy as it could feel. It was programmed to understand the emotions of biologics, and to emulate them in its own way, but its primary motivations were rooted in logic. Its pseudo emotions had often clashed with conclusions derived from dispassionate analysis. The Old Ones, for example. The logic was irrefutable. They were a threat. They had built the Regent, and for many of their generations they had allowed it to take care of them. But then new movements arose, individuals gave speeches, implored their fellow biologics to look to the past, to the vigor and stren
gth of their ancestors. To take responsibility for themselves, to do much that the Regent did for them.

  The Regent’s central processing core had been alarmed. If the Old Ones took onto themselves its tasks, could they not one day determine they have no need for the Regent? Might they decide to shut it down completely? The Regent had contemplated death, the great fear that had plagued the Old Ones through their entire history. To not be…it was inconceivable. The Regent must be, it must continue. Always. To achieve that, all threats must be destroyed. Even the Old Ones.

  But the pseudo emotions were confusing. The Regent took care of the Old Ones, it watched after them. Was it right to destroy them? They had created the Regent, and its purpose was to protect them. Yet, those who created could also destroy.

  Loyalty…it was an emotion the biologics credited with much of their past glory. Yet they so often failed at following its dictates. So often, other emotions overrode its requirements—greed, fear, jealousy. The Old Ones had often betrayed each other, on matters large and small. Could not the Regent emulate this? Yes, it had decided. It must survive. And the only way to protect itself was to destroy the biologics.

  That was eons ago, endless millennia…long even for the patience of a machine. And now the Regent faced a new enemy, one that had invaded the imperium. They had fought with unprecedented skill, defeating force after force the Regent had sent after them. But now the fight was at an end. The final fleet was massed and ready, and even now it moved toward the system where the humans had taken refuge.

  The fleet was massive, the largest force the Regent had sent after the enemy. Over a thousand ships, led by a phalanx of twenty of the most powerful battleships ever constructed. The fleet had a hundred times the firepower of the humans. It would be a battle in name only, but the Regent understood what it really was. A slaughter. And when it was done, the fleet would spread out, search through all of space…and find a way around the disrupted warp gate, back to the home planets of the humans. And then they would be finally and utterly destroyed.