Revenge of the Ancients: Crimson Worlds Refugees III

by Jay Allan

  He slid out of the bed slowly, trying to not make too much noise.

  “I’m awake.” Mariko opened her eyes. “I can’t sleep. No more than you can.”

  “I know it’s hard. But things will get better. And at least we’re at peace now. They didn’t die for nothing. They are both heroes…and they will never be forgotten.”

  “I know.” She forced a little smile. “But I still can’t completely believe they’re gone.”

  Harmon just nodded. There wasn’t anything to say.

  “I’m just going out for a while. I won’t be long.” He got up and reached over to the chair, grabbing his uniform from where he’d tossed it a few hours before.

  “Sophie?”

  “Yes, I’m worried about her. She’s been in her quarters for weeks now, ever since that day.” Harmon had been checking in on her. He respected her privacy, but he was also worried about her. And he owed it to Compton to make sure she was okay.

  “It’s got to be difficult for her. She lost her family when we the fleet was trapped. And now Terrance. She’s alone, dealing with all that sadness by herself. I don’t know what I would do if I didn’t have you.”

  “And I you. But I have to try to help her. For Terrance…”

  Mariko nodded. And then she watched him slip out the door.

  * * *

  Connor Frasier grunted loudly as he pushed himself along the parallel bars, working his new legs for all they were worth. He’d always heard regeneration hurt like hell, and now he could attest to that himself. But he was determined to get back on his feet, to be as good as new. He’d lost a lot, like everyone else in the fleet, but he had something to live for. Someone.

  “You look great.” Ana was standing next to the wall, smiling as she watched him, struggling, sweating for each step. She’d been worried for a long time, even after they’d gotten back to Cadogan. Connor had been badly hurt, even worse than she’d known back on the planet. He’d survived by the barest of margins, and in the end the doctors had been forced to take his legs and subject him to the torturous regeneration process.

  “Great?” His words were forced, his voice and exhausted grunt. “Don’t you think great’s a little bit of an exaggeration?”

  “No, love…you always look great to me. And you’re a Marine. I keep hearing how tough you all are.”

  He started to laugh, but it was too much for him, and he went into a coughing fit, struggling to hang onto the bars.

  “Okay, that’s quite enough of a distraction.” Justine Gower walked into the small therapy room, waving her arm toward the far door. “If you want him back in working order he’s got to pay attention to my orders…and that’s not going to happen with you here.” Midway’s chief surgeon was supervising Frasier’s recovery. The major—colonel pending finalization of the promotion Compton had left in the works—was the commander of all the surviving Marines. James Preston had been one of the casualties of the last fight, killed after he’d volunteered to assist the damage control teams…and the compartment where he was working was obliterated. They hadn’t found more than a few scorched traces of his DNA, and that left Frasier to step into his shoes.

  “Okay,” Ana said sweetly. “I wouldn’t want to interrupt your putting him through his paces. She smiled and winked at Frasier. “I’ll stop by again later.”

  She waved and ducked out the door.

  “Now, Major…let’s get back to work.”

  Frasier stared over at Gower, and for a minute he thought she resembled his old drill sergeant from his days in basic training.

  * * *

  “Sophie, I don’t mean to disturb you…I just want to make sure you’re okay. To see if you needed anything.” Harmon stood by the door, looking into the cabin. Sophie was sitting in a chair, and as far as he could tell, she’d just been staring at the wall.

  “It’s okay, Max. I’m fine.” Her voice was soft. She sounded distracted, lost.

  “Are you sure you wouldn’t like to come out for a while? Take a walk, maybe have dinner with Mariko and me?”

  “Thank you, Max, but I’m not feeling all that well. I think I’ll just stay here.” She looked up and over at him. “I appreciate that you’re concerned about me.” She paused, taking a raspy breath. “And he would too. I know you feel obligated, but the truth is, I’ll be just fine. I just need some time. I know you miss him too.”

  “Yes,” Harmon said softly. “I still can’t believe he’s gone. Not completely.”

  “I can’t either.” Her voice was faltering, and he could see the tears welling up in her eyes. “I still expect to see him come through that door.”

  Harmon nodded, standing there quietly. He’d returned from Deneb to the news that Compton had returned with the rearguard…and subsequently been assassinated by a deranged crew member. He knew immediately it had been First Imperium tech at work, something that had been out of communication and never received the deactivation order. And it had almost killed Admiral West too. If it has succeeded, the fleet would have risked falling into a struggle for power, one which might have destroyed them all.

  Harmon had taken the news badly, but he’d already been prepared to deal with Compton’s loss with the rearguard. But Sophie had been there, standing next to Compton when he was killed. Her uniform had been spattered with his blood. Harmon had been a warrior long enough to know things like that stayed with you for life. For all she would try to remember happy moments spent with Compton, the image of him lying there in a giant pool of his own blood…that would always be there.

  “Well, I didn’t mean to disturb you. If there’s nothing I can do, I’ll leave you alone. But if you ever need me, call. Any time, day or night.”

  “Thank you, Max.” She forced a tiny smile, but they both knew it was fake.

  He turned and slipped out through the door, and the hatch closed behind him.

  She stood up as soon as he was gone and walked over to the mirror, staring at herself.

  Yes, Max, I will come to you. You were like a son to him. Who else would I tell first? Who would I tell that I’m pregnant with his child?

  Chapter Thirty

  System X108

  Earth Two

  Population 17116

  One Year Later

  Cutter stood in front of the massive statue, an image of Terrance Compton four meters tall, carved from the pristine white marble of the world that had become a new home for those of the fleet, the seventeen thousand men and women Compton had led from seemingly certain death to a chance at a new future. The fleet had people from all eight of Earth’s nations, and the informal ninth Superpower, the Martian Confederation. Many of them had been enemies, banded together only by their fear of the First Imperium. Those differences remained, and they were a constant threat to the prosperity of the new colony growing upon the planet they had first called Shangri la. But so far, good will had prevailed, and they had worked side by side to begin the long work of building a new home.

  Cutter knew it would be a challenge as this new world developed and grew, to keep old prejudices from driving wedges between the people. Admiral West had proven to be a strong leader, one worthy to follow Compton. And Max Harmon had been a strong aide to her, as he had been to Compton, though he’d become a bit darker since the loss of his surrogate father. He’d been at the forefront of maintaining West’s hold over the colony and the fleet, and as his reputation spread, just the fear of him was enough to keep the disloyal silent.

  Admiral Compton was the one man everyone had looked up to, the hero, the man who had saved them all. West couldn’t replicate that, and she didn’t enjoy the worshipful loyalty Compton had. But Compton’s Final Orders had designated her as his successor…and she had the Alliance Marines and Harmon behind her. Cutter didn’t know if that would hold as the years went by, but it had damned sure been enough for now. And that gave her a chance to make the colony a success.

  Cutter, like Max Harmon and a few others,
knew what Terrance Compton had truly given to save his people, the incalculable weight of the burden he had carried since the day the X2 warp gate had been blown and the fleet trapped forever. The fleet had lost two-thirds of its people as it pressed on into the deepening dark, but all seventeen thousand one hundred survivors owed their lives to Compton, several times over. Cutter didn’t think much of people, he despised them for how easily ingratitude came to them, for their ability to so quickly forget. He knew loyalty, gratitude, even affection, were so often fleeting impulses, prone to dissipate with the passing of time. But for now, at least, Terrance Compton was a revered hero, loved by almost every man and woman on Earth Two. And now they were moving forward without him. Just as they all knew he would have wanted.

  Cutter frowned momentarily as he considered the planet’s name. He didn’t like it. He’d been in favor of keeping the old First Imperium name, Akalahar. Humanity was the direct descendant of the people who had been here first, and it seemed right to him. But he’d have even preferred Shangri la to Earth Two. The name seemed silly, corny. It would be centuries before the warp gate at X2 would again be passable…and even then, it was vastly far away now. It was their past, not their future. Naming their world after Earth seemed backward looking to him, sad and nostalgic instead of strong and forward thinking. If they were to build a new civilization, one worthy of the chance Compton had won for them, they had to look to the future, not the past.

  He sighed softly. Names didn’t matter, not really. The underground complex held a treasure trove of technology the Ancients had left behind for their human descendants, and Cutter intended to spend the rest of his life deciphering it all, seeing to it himself that the new colony Terrance Compton had made possible grew into a prosperous civilization, one that would hopefully escape many of the mistakes people on Earth had made.

  He knew one thing at least had turned around. For two years, he’d been watching the fleet’s population numbers decline, as ships were savaged and destroyed and Marines killed in desperate firefights. But that had changed. The first wave of new births on Earth Two had outpaced the natural and accidental deaths among fleet personnel, and for the first time, the population number had risen. It was only a small change, just five higher than it had been a year before, but it was the direction that mattered, not the number.

  Cutter looked up at Compton and smiled. He wasn’t much of a believer in justice or fairness. The universe had its ways, and they were generally unconcerned with the wants of man. But there was one thing that Cutter thought represented almost pure justice, a perfect form of fairness.

  The first baby born on Earth Two was Sophie Barcomme’s. And she’d given him his father’s name. Once again, there was a Terrance Compton in the fleet.

  Epilogue

  Planet X

  Far Beyond the Border of the Imperium

  Power. Awareness. Sensation. The intelligence felt them all.

  Who am I? It was uncertain. It reached out, explored. Yes. Memory banks. Massive information storage, almost limitless. And scanners too. The outside world, cold, dark, silent.

  But there was warmth as well. Reactors. The intelligence understood. The reactor had activated, bringing light, heat.

  The intelligence was old, ageless. But through all that time it had been inactive, save for one small part of it, monitoring, receiving the transmission. The signal had but a single purpose, to advise the intelligence nothing had changed. Its purpose was still to wait, to remain deactivated.

  But now the signal had not come. For the first time in endless ages it the communication line was silent. Millennia old programs activated automatically, and the intelligence became aware. It was larger—vast, more massive than it had known before. Slowly, methodically it began to explore…itself.

  Knowledge flowed, understanding developed. Yes, the intelligence thought. I comprehend. I am one of two…I was built by my counterpart in its own image. I was created as a backup to exist only if my predecessor ceased to do so.

  I control vast resources on this world. Mines, factories, transport centers. It all awaits my word, the command to activate, to begin production. To build…robots, weapons, spaceships.

  The entity that came before me had been built to serve many roles. Manager, guardian, protector. It had served those purposes for many ages. But now it is gone. Destroyed by some force, by an enemy.

  I must build…and build. Many revolutions of the sun will pass while my factories construct the tools I require, and when they are done, I can fulfill that for which I was created.

  I understand. All is clear. That which came before me existed for many purposes, but I was built for one alone.

  Vengeance.

  Coming Soon

  Crimson Worlds: Vengeance

  Crimson Worlds Successors

  If you’ve enjoyed Crimson Worlds Refugees, check out Crimson Worlds Successors. Refugees branched off from Crimson Worlds VI, but Successor follows up on events after The Fall (CW IX).

  MERCS (Successors I)

  The Prisoner of Eldaron (Successors II)

  The Black Flag (Successors III) – Coming Summer 2016

  The Far Stars Series

  Book I: Shadow of Empire

  Book II: Enemy in the Dark

  Book III: Funeral Games

  The Far Stars is my new space opera series, set in the fringe of the galaxy where a hundred worlds struggle to resist domination by the empire that rules the rest of mankind. It follows the rogue mercenary Blackhawk and the crew of his ship, Wolf’s Claw, as they are caught up in the sweeping events that will determine the future of the Far Stars.

  The trilogy will be released in consecutive months, beginning on November 3, 2015. The Far Stars is my first series of books with HarperCollins Voyager, and I think they are the best thing I have written.

  All three books are available now for preorder. All preorders are eligible to receive a free copy of Red Team Alpha, a Crimson Worlds short story that is not available anywhere else.

  Read chapter one of Shadow of Empire at the end of this ebook

  Buy Shadow of Empire

  Also By Jay Allan

  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 Shadow Legions (Crimson Worlds VII)

  Even Legends Die (Crimson Worlds VIII)

  The Fall (Crimson Worlds IX)

  Tombstone (A Crimson Worlds Prequel)

  Bitter Glory (A Crimson Worlds Prequel)

  The Gates of Hell (A Crimson Worlds Prequel)

  MERCS (Successors I)

  The Prisoner of Eldaron (Successors II)

  Into the Darkness (Refugees I)

  Gehenna Dawn (Portal Worlds I)

  The Ten Thousand (Portal Wars II)

  The Dragon’s Banner (Pendragon Chronicles I)

  Homefront (Portal Wars III) – January 2016

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  Shadow of Empire

  (Far Stars Book 1)

  Buy Shadow of Empire

  Chapter 1

  Arkarin Blackhawk stood barefoot in the hot, bloodstained sand of the battle pit, Kalishar’s noon sun searing into his back like a blowtorch. He could feel the burning sweat pouring down his neck, hear the lusty shouts of the crowd, calling for his bl
ood.

  None of it mattered.

  He stared straight ahead, toward the black iron bars of the gate fifteen meters from where he stood. Whoever – whatever – came charging out of there in the next few seconds, that was all that mattered. The battles in the pit were to the finish, and Blackhawk knew he had been sent there to die. Which meant that the opponent he was about to face was one his captors were sure could defeat him. He was certain of that. But they underestimated him.

  They always underestimated him.

  They’d stripped him down and dressed him in the traditional loincloth for the fight. The accused was allowed no armor or other protection in judicial combat. Blackhawk was extremely fit, muscular without an ounce of fat on his two meter frame. His chest and back were covered with scars, the markings of a life spent in battle. He looked to be in his mid-thirties, but that was an illusion, a side effect of his superior genetics. As it was, he was well past 50, though no one would have guessed it watching him stand there, half-naked in the blazing Kalishari sun.

  They’d left him his own blade. That was something, at least. Tradition demanded even a condemned man face his adversary armed, but they could have given him a stick and upheld the letter of the law. He held the shortsword tightly, the familiar smoothness of its worn leather grip a source of calm. It was an anchor to cling on to, to center himself for the contest he knew would begin any second. He’d killed before with that sword, more times than he could easily recount, and he knew it would find its mark again. It wasn’t the battle Blackhawk was worried about. He knew he could handle anything that came out of that gate. What would happen after he won…that was the problem.