by Jay Allan
Her first two guards stepped out of the elevator car, falling in next to each other in perfect formation. The lieutenant gestured for her to follow, and walked next to her when she stepped out, followed closely by the last two troopers. The second she set foot outside the lift, a band she hadn’t noticed began playing the Marine Corps Hymn.
She walked slowly forward, still shocked at the rigid perfection of the ranks of soldiers around her. Whatever Darius had inherited from his parents, there wasn’t a doubt in her mind all of Erik’s military aptitude had passed to his son.
She looked straight ahead as she walked, trying to see over the shoulders of the two hulking guards in front of her. But then they stopped abruptly and stepped to the side, revealing Darius standing there in his own dress uniform. He had a serious expression on his face, but when he saw her, he smiled.
“Hello, mother.” He leaned forward and embraced her. “Welcome to the Nest. Your visit is long overdue, and I hope you will find the time to come more often in the future.” She could hear the emotion in his statement, though she realized it would not be obvious to most listeners.
“Darius, I can’t tell you how happy it makes me to see you.” She returned his hug, and she extended herself up on her toes and kissed her son on the cheek. She held onto his shoulders as she pulled her lips away slowly, and she whispered into his ear.
“I have to speak with you alone, Darius. It’s important.”
* * * * *
“If this is true, I will destroy them! I will raze their cities, and kill them all. What Rome did to Carthage will seem like a love tap.” Darius was furious, and the anger pulsated through every nerve in his body. The room seemed to shake from the cold energy of his voice, and his stare was like death. His right hand was clasped in a tight fist…around a small chunk of metal. His father’s Marine Corps ring.
“I don’t know anything for sure, Darius. But I can’t think of any way someone could have gotten that ring unless…” He voice tailed off as she tried to choke back tears. “Unless your father did not die on that ship. His ring would have been with him, and if the ship lost containment it would have been vaporized…along…” She paused again briefly. “…along with everything else onboard.”
“If father survived the attack on that ship…it means he was taken prisoner. That the ship was disabled and boarded. But who?” He looked at his mother, his gaze a mix of fury and almost childlike confusion. “Who would have attacked that ship and taken prisoners before destroying it?” His mind was already answering his question, but he wasn’t ready to face the possibility that whatever force his people had faced on Lysandria and Eris had been in existence all those years ago. Was it possible that an organized powerful enemy had been operating in total secrecy for decades, gathering strength as the worlds of Occupied Space became weaker and ever more disunited?
Sarah’s eyes were locked on her son’s. “I came right here. I wanted to tell Cat Gilson, but the Marines aren’t strong enough to do anything. If we even knew what to do.”
“I know what I am going to do. I am going to Eldaron…and I am going to tear apart every millimeter of that world, search every room, every cave, question every leader. If he is there, I will find him. If the people of Eldaron know anything about this, they will tell me.” His tone on the last few words was like ice.
“But we don’t have any proof, Darius. Just this ring.” Sarah’s voice was uncertain, shaky. If there was the slightest chance Erik Cain was alive somewhere, she knew she had to do something, anything, to try to find and rescue him. But she couldn’t condemn an entire world to the apocalypse that would follow an invasion by the Black Eagles.
She turned and looked into Darius’ eyes. She saw nothing there but rage…and determination so resolute she realized in an instant no force in Occupied Space would stand in his way. Her son did not share her ethical doubts about invading a planet on such thin evidence, and if they found that the Eldari had kept Erik Cain prisoner for so many years…she shuddered to think of what he would do to them. His rage would run as hot as the core of a star, and millions—whether they’d had any involvement in the scheme or not—would die.
Perhaps I shouldn’t have told him, she thought, feeling a flush of doubts. But they quickly subsided. If there was any chance Erik was still alive, she had to see everything possible done. Sarah had always been disciplined, and her Marine training and years of service had only increased her capacity to control herself, even if difficult situations. But it was taking everything she had to stay focused now. A thousand questions bombarded her mind from the nether land at the fringe of her thoughts.
Was it really possible that Erik was actually alive? Or had he been captured and died in the interim? And perhaps the worst of all…how badly had he suffered? Fifteen years of captivity…what kind of hell had he had to endure for so long? She, more than anyone else, understood how helplessness would be the worst torture Erik Cain could experience. If by some miracle he was still alive, what had the years of captivity done to him?
Then there was the other thing that had been plaguing her since she’d discovered the source of the ring. “Darius, if this is more than some kind of hoax, if Erik is a prisoner on Eldaron…then this may all be some kind of trap. Who would have sent the ring to me except someone who wanted us to come to Eldaron…who wanted the Eagles to attack there?
Darius stared back at his mother, not the slightest change in his expression.
“Of course it’s a trap,” he said calmly. “Whatever is waiting for us on Eldaron, we can be sure our enemies believe it is enough to destroy us. No doubt that is the purpose behind the sudden appearance of this ring.”
Sarah nodded, wiping a tear from her face. “So, what do we do? We can’t just ignore this, not if there’s a chance your father is still alive.”
Cain maintained his stare, his face rigid, like something carved from a solid block of stone. “I’m not going to ignore anything, mother. We go in, that’s what we do…and we show these bastards that whatever they have planned, they underestimated the Black Eagles.”
Chapter 11
Central Broadcast Center
Beneath the Ruins of the Ares Metroplex
Planet Mars, Sol IV
Earthdate: 2319 AD (34 Years After the Fall)
“We’ll be ready in five minutes, Mr. Vance.” The technician’s voice was edgy, nervous. Vance didn’t know if the man was a supporter, if he was working so diligently because he believed in the reasons for the coup…or if he was just afraid, intimidated by the armed troops who had stormed through the doors an hour before. And for the moment, he realized it didn’t matter.
“That will be fine.” Roderick Vance turned and looked out over the room. The black-clad soldiers were all around…as he knew they were in most of the other vital installations in the Ares Metroplex…and the other cities of Mars as well. Things had gone smoothly for the most part, though there had been some resistance. Vance had known his goal of a totally bloodless coup was unrealistic, but as the reports began to stream in of scattered resistance, and the fighting it took to overcome it, he struggled to maintain his focus. Astor’s last report had brought the total to one hundred two dead. Not a lot in the context of seizing control of an entire planet, but far more than Vance had allowed himself to expect.
Xavier Melander had been a pleasant surprise, at least. The navy was with him, without a shot fired or even a threatening word reaching his ear. And control of the fleet practically guaranteed the success of the coup. Vance hadn’t had the same relationship with Melander he’d had with his successor, and he hadn’t been sure the admiral trusted him enough to accept his assurances he would step down as soon as the crisis was over. He’d blamed himself for so long over failing to stop the disastrous attack that had devastated the surface cities, he’d become increasingly hesitant to believe that anyone truly trusted him. But Melander…and Astor and Campbell, and a lot of others too, proved that hypothesis to be flat out wrong. He still had suppor
t, enough at least to sustain his desperate gamble.
His greatest worry had been a struggle between Duncan Campbell and Melander for control of the fleet. Campbell was a legend in the Martian navy, but Melander was its current commander. Vance imagined Martian ships dividing into factions…battling each other in an orgy of wasteful killing. That would have been a tragedy for myriad reasons, not the least of which was Vance knew he’d need the fleet—all of it—intact and united if his fears proved to be correct and mankind faced another challenge like the Shadow War.
He walked slowly across the room, a pair of soldiers falling into step on each side behind him—the same four who’d been following him since he’d left his bedroom that morning. He suspected Astor had charged them personally with protecting him, and they’d been taking their orders so seriously, he’d had to argue for privacy when he’d gone to the bathroom earlier.
There was a podium set up in front of a large white backdrop. The flag of the Martian Confederation hung just behind where he would stand in just a few moments, when he addressed the people and advised them they now lived in a dictatorship. The news would be a shock, he knew. The council had refused to release the news of the situation on Earth and the destruction of the base on Eris for fear of causing a panic, so few Martians had any idea what had instigated the morning’s actions. Those who lived near crucial installations had probably seen the troops moving about all morning…or even heard gunfire from one of the places security personnel had resisted. But for the most part, what he had to say would be shocking.
“We’re ready, sir.” The technicians pranced nervously around Vance, uncertain how to behave or even what to call him. Was he their president now? Their prime minister? Their king?
Vance nodded and stepped up to the podium. He stood silently for a few seconds, taking a deep breath…then another. Finally, he stared straight ahead and said, “I’m ready.”
A second later, one of the technicians made a thumbs up gesture. He was on the air.
“Good morning, my fellow Martians. I am addressing you this morning on matters of great importance, and I ask you, one and all, to set aside whatever you are doing and give me your undivided attention.” His speech was being sent out on the priority circuit, which mean that every screen, com unit, and public address system on the planet was broadcasting his words. Virtually every inhabitant of Mars would hear what he had to say, and soon after he would know if they accepted what he had done…or if he faced a long and bloody struggle to establish his authority.
“Approximately six months ago, I became aware of a worrisome situation on Earth, and further investigation established that a large and well-supplied organization was kidnapping people and shipping them offworld…to be used someplace unknown as slave labor. Subsequently, we discovered a large and well-armed base on the dwarf planet Eris, operated by the same organization.”
He paused, giving his audience a chance to absorb what he had said. He’d intended to start with the announcement of the coup, but at the last minute, he decided to provide some background information first.
“That base was attacked and destroyed by a force of Black Eagle ships and soldiers.” He’d debated whether to mention the Eagles or not. Darius Cain’s mercenaries inspired fear throughout Occupied Space, and he knew suggesting they were his allies—though he knew that was a considerable exaggeration of the current relationship—would be useful in intimidating any potential resistance. He’d have preferred to convince the people with logic and facts…but he had to acknowledge that fear was probably more effective in the short term.
“This information was not released at the time because the council decided it would cause needless panic. During the intervening time, nothing has been done, either by way of investigating the mysterious organization behind this terrible crime…or preparing militarily to face it.” His voice was deadly serious, almost grim. It had been more than fifteen years since the Confederation had fought its last war…and that struggle, against the First Imperium, hadn’t come close to Mars itself. The period before the Fall had been a quarter century of almost constant conflict, but a new generation had come of age since Confederation forces last fired their weapons against an external enemy.
“This course of action was foolhardy, and it ends now. As Martians, you all deserve to know about any threats to the Confederation, and I believe that this shadowy force represents an extreme danger to all of Occupied Space. The resources required to operate the slaving ring and build the base on Eris were enormous. This is no ordinary criminal enterprise. It is an organized entity, and one that wields great power.” He gripped the podium tightly and forced himself to continue. “Those of you as old as me remember another time, another enemy. You remember the beauty of the surface cities, the grandeur of Martian civilization, all that our parents and grandparents had achieved. And you remember the day all of that ended at the hands of another enemy…a deadly threat we did not recognize until it was too late to avoid cataclysm.” He stood still, staring at the camera, his own mind drifting back to that terrible day.
“I cannot—I will not—stand by and allow another catastrophe to befall us. I do not know what is out there, or how powerful this potential new enemy may be. But I must follow my instincts…and they are screaming a grave warning to me, one I cannot ignore.” He pounded a fist on the podium.
“The council would not take this threat seriously, so I have been forced to disband it. The members of the council have all been detained, and the Assembly has been adjourned.” A pause. He’d just told them their government had been dissolved. He tried to imagine the reactions all around the planet as people heard those words. “And I have taken temporary control of the Confederation. I have the support of both the army and the navy, the commanders of which understand the crisis and share my concerns on ensuring we are ready to face whatever new enemy is gathering in the darkness.”
The army and the navy…or at least the two commanders and a few picked forces. It remains to be seen how the rank and file react. Still, that should intimidate most people nursing thoughts of resistance…
“I want to assure every Martian that this is a temporary measure, one born of necessity, and when the danger has passed, I will gladly lay down the powers I have taken, and I will retire to manage my private affairs.”
Nobody believes that. Which is funny, because it’s true. They can’t imagine how much I just want to fade away, to manage my business interests…even sit and read a book. And for once, not know about every disaster waiting to explode. Fifty years of intelligence work…that’s too much for any man…
“But for the duration of the crisis, I must insist that all Martians work together, that we refrain from any acts of civil disobedience or anything else that impairs the readiness of the Confederation to face whatever crises befall us. I respect the core of independent thought that resides inside each of us, but now that must be subordinate to our joint effort to resist and defeat whatever enemy is gathering in the darkness. We must stand as one, walk forward as one…fight as one. And we shall. For any Martian that fails to do his duty now serves the enemy…and will be treated accordingly.”
There. The hammer. How many listening understand what that means? How many realize that if they do not do as you say, your soldiers will come for them, drag them from their homes in front of their bawling children? I cannot leave us helpless before another enemy. I will not. But must I become what I despise in order to resist an even greater evil?
“It is with all of this in mind that I now declare a state of martial law to exist throughout the Martian Confederation. Henceforth, all public gatherings of more than three people are prohibited. All non-citizens present on territory of the Confederation are ordered to report to the closest consulate offices within two days for review of residency status. All civil proceedings are hereby suspended for the duration of the crisis. All media is hereby placed under the control of designated government authorities…”
* * * * *
/> “This is an outrage. You are a traitor! I will see you executed for this!”
“You will find that a difficult task at the present time, Mr. Vallen. Your authority is rather limited at present. Indeed, I have done what had to be done, largely because your previous influence contributed to the council’s failing in its obligation to act in the interests and for the protection of the Confederation and its people. I will now remedy that.” He felt a wave of anger…at Vallen, at men like him who had been born into positions of power and luxury but who lived as parasites, indulging their every whims, no matter what the cost to others. I would do Mars a favor if I had them all shot…
Stop it. You took power to save the Confederation, not indulge old hatreds. Do not become what you despise.
“Might I suggest you take some time to consider the relative comfort of your captivity? Your own clothes, plenty to eat. A comfortable cell. I can provide you with some history texts if you care to study the conditions others in your position have been compelled to endure. Assuming they weren’t just shot in the back of the head and dumped in a trench somewhere.”
“I am a member of the Confederation’s high council. I demand to be released at once!”
“I’m afraid the council no longer exists, Mr. Vallen, and you have no authority to demand release. However, if you are fortunate, the interim government will not have the time or resources to look more closely at your past business transactions. As in most times such as these, transgressions such as defrauding the government and misuse of influence will be punished far more severely than in normal circumstances.” His voice had deepened, becoming dark and threatening. “We wouldn’t want to see you stand before a firing squad or mount the scaffold, would we?”