by Jay Allan
The wound was bad, but survivable if she got help. But she knew there was no hope, and she could see her enemy through teary eyes, leveling his weapon for another shot. The killing shot.
She was dead…she knew it. Just an instant, and it would be over. She would never see home again…her family.
There was a sound, a gunshot that somehow registered in her failing ears louder than the others in the melee swirling all around her. That was it, she thought. Am I dead? But then she saw her enemy falling backwards, a bullet hole right between his eyes.
“Jalte?” she heard. The voice was familiar, and through the pain she found it somehow comforting. “Pam,” it said again. “Can you hear me?”
She tried to move her head, but the pain was unbearable, and she let it drop again. She realized the firing had stopped. Then she felt motion, someone moving around, stopping, looking down at her.
“Just stay still, Pam. It’s over…we took the ship. Try to rest. We’ve got a medteam on the way.”
Her vision was blurry, fading, and she knew she was slipping into unconsciousness. Her throat was dry, and she couldn’t force out any words. But she recognized Elias Cain standing above her…and she had a single thought before she slipped into the darkness.
We won.
* * * * *
“Okay, Captain Yulich, it is time we had a serious talk.” Elias pronounced the pirate’s rank as if it was a curse. “Apart from your attack on the Carlyle, and the murder of its entire crew save one…you have to answer to me for the losses among my own agents. I had six dead and six wounded taking your vessel, Captain. That’s sixty percent casualties seizing the ship that you refused to surrender. The ship you used to attack Zephyr, and the one you tried to destroy with my people on it. So, let’s just say that you are going to tell me everything—absolutely everything—I want to know. Starting now.”
Yulich sat in the chair, silent, unresponsive, his arms and legs shackled. He’d taken a few flesh wounds in the fighting, and while none of them were serious, Elias figured they hurt like hell. Good, he thought, staring into the prisoner’s eyes, somewhat surprised to see there was still defiance there. Elias fought back the urge to beat the resistance out of the son of a bitch.
He had a passing thought, wondering what kind of unspeakable dungeon Darius had built into his Nest, what kind of hell awaited captives who had killed Black Eagles, as this pirate and his crew had killed Elias’ agents. Elias had long told himself he was above such behavior, and he’d condemned his brother as a traitor and a barbarian. Now, staring down at the man responsible for the deaths of Captain Marne’s crew as well as six of his own men and women, he felt different thoughts. Images passed before his eyes, the faces of the dead, the image of Pam Jalte in sickbay, her wrecked shoulder so bad, the medic had been forced to amputate her arm. The anger was pulsating within, threatening to overrule his self-control.
He would try to reason with this man, to obtain his cooperation without resorting to means he had always despised. But if that didn’t work, he knew he would no longer allow his actions to be constrained by within his former limits. There was something going in Occupied Space far more dangerous than the destruction of one valuable cargo. And this pirate, and the other two still-living members of his crew, were the only leads Elias had.
He suddenly realized he was subconsciously beginning to justify actions he didn’t even know he would have to take. He was going to learn what he needed to know. And the words that came to his mind made him think of his brother’s way of doing things…whatever it takes.
“You and your men face a death sentence on Atlantia…and on any other civilized world whose spacers you have victimized. It is a fate you richly deserve, but if you cooperate fully, I am prepared to intervene on your behalf for commutation and a reduction of your sentence.”
Yulich remained silent, no reaction at all.
“I see you are a tough one. Certain death awaits you, and you spurn your only chance at salvation? The deal I offer you is the best you will get, I can promise that. Is saving your miserable hide really so unimportant to you?”
Yulich managed a mocking smile. “And what is your promise worth? Do you think I would believe anything you say? I tried to die with my ship…and take you and your pack of dogs with me, but I failed. So, why don’t you just go ahead and kill me?”
“I have no intention of killing you.” Elias remained calm, not letting the pirate’s taunting words anger him. “And fortunately, your ship, while damaged, has been secured. I can promise you, we will take it apart, bolt by bolt to uncover all its secrets. Com records, nav data, even particulate residue. You’d be surprised what a Patrol forensic team can accomplish.”
Yulich glared back, silently. It looked for a moment like he was going to say something, but finally he just looked away.
“I know you are not some lone wolf pirate, Captain Yulich. The cargo shipment you intercepted was highly classified, yet you were able to intercept it. That means you had a source of information inside the Atlantian government.” Elias slid to the side, angling so he was again looking right into the pirate’s eyes. “So either you had a personal contact…or you are part of some larger organization. I am inclined to think it is the latter, and I believe you can provide me useful information on such a cartel…size, scope, base locations.”
“You are insane,” Yulich growled. “Do you know what they would do to me?” The pirate’s face twisted into a frustrated knot, as if he was angry with himself for saying anything.
“I can promise you protection,” Elias countered.
“Ha!” Yulich spat. “Protection? From them? You don’t know what you’re talking about. You are nothing to them. You don’t even know what operatives they have in your government.” A jagged smile slipped onto his face. “Yes, of course they have people there, that is how they operate. You have no idea what you are dealing with. You think you offer me my life? It is not yours to give. If the Atlantian authorities don’t kill me, they will. And there is no way you will be able to stop them. So spare me your empty promises. Shoot me if you will, but stop boring me to death with your pointless questions.”
Elias stood for a moment, silent, thinking. He felt a cold feeling, a sudden realization that whatever he had expected to find, the truth was even darker, more ominous.
He’s resigned to death, completely sure they will find him and kill him. What could cause such fear that a man would seek death over offers of salvation? What am I chasing?
He didn’t know what to say, what to do. Amnesty and protection were all he had to offer. If Yulich didn’t believe either was possible, there was no way Elias was going to get him to cooperate.
How can I convince him I can keep him safe? Or scare him as badly as his former employers? Of course…
Suddenly, he turned back toward the prisoner. “Do you know my name, Captain Yulich?”
“What?” the pirate captain asked, a scowl on his face. “Yeah, you told me. Elias. Elias Cain.”
“Is any part of that familiar to you?”
“No, I’ve never heard of you. Does that make you feel less important?” The mocking tone was back.
“No, not at all,” Elias said, his voice firm and even. “But I thought you might recognize my last name. My father was Erik Cain, General Erik Cain.”
“Yeah…I know who he was. So your father was a big hero. What do I care?”
“Well, it’s not my father I thought you might know about. I’m going to take you to see my brother, Captain. He can protect you if he wants…even against whatever pack of bottom-feeding criminals you worked for. And he can get information from you too, I’d wager. I seriously doubt he would be as restricted by…shall we say ethical constraints?...as I am.”
Yulich stared back, a confused look on his face. Then the expression vanished, and he went white as a sheet.
“Yes, Captain, I think you finally understand. I suggest you think about just how abrasive and defiant you want to be with my broth
er. He’s far more likely than me to get…rough.”
“Your brother is Darius Cain?” The fear was thick in Yulich’s voice.
“Yes, Captain. He is. And I have it on good authority the Black Eagles are quite gifted at…extracting information.”
Yulich’s eyes were wide, his skin pasty white. He looked at Elias as if he was staring into the yawning pit of hell.
“I think I will wait until we get there to dig deeper into all of this. Darius and his people will have a much easier time of it than me.” He turned and walked away, forcing himself not to turn back. He didn’t need his eyes to hear Yulich’s heavy breathing…and something that sounded a bit like whimpering.
He wondered if it was the right move to bring Darius into this. He’d made an uneasy peace of sorts with his estranged brother after the whole Mars-Eris episode, but there was still a lot of bad blood between them. He still disapproved of Darius’ way of doing things, and he wondered what it meant that his mind had gone right to threatening Yulich with the same methods. He was worried about what was happening…on Atlantia, along the interplanetary trade routes, in all of Occupied Space. But did that justify what he had for so long condemned? Was he losing his principles? Becoming more and more like his brother?
He didn’t know, but he would think on it all, he was sure. But first he had a more difficult task.
How the hell am I going to convince Jamie to take Zephyr all the way to the Nest?
Chapter 20
Planet Terra Nova
Alpha Centauri A III
Earthdate: 2319 AD (34 Years After the Fall)
Augustus Garret stared down at the small headstone. He was kneeling, his knees damp from the morning dew on the soft grass, more brown now than green with the approach of winter. There was stiffness in his legs, an ache in his cold knees. Rejuv treatments or no, Garret felt every bit his age, especially in his mind. He was old, and he thought mostly now of days passed, companions gone. He went through his daily routine with the discipline born of a military life, but there was always a shadow of sadness upon him, an exhaustion that made every action an effort. He felt like he was done, as if his life had been stretched too far. Perhaps he should have died in one of his battles, he often thought, cut down at the climactic moment…a hero’s death. A fitting end for the great admiral, one for the history texts. But that hadn’t been his fate, and he simply went on, marking time as the increasingly empty months and years passed by.
Cemeteries were relatively rare on the worlds of Occupied Space, cremation generally serving as the standard disposition for the deceased. But Terra Nova had retained the custom, at least in the old Alliance sector, and the families who called that area of the declining world home continued to bury their dead.
The stones marking the graves in the century and a half old Garret family cemetery were mostly native granite, gray and featureless, like most things on Terra Nova. But not this one. It was Columbian marble, an extremely rare strain in a striking midnight blue. Blue had been Charlotte’s favorite color.
Charlotte…
Charlotte Evers had been dead for many years. So many, Garret surprised himself every time he did the calculation. She had been young when she died…far too young. And Garret knew she had died because of his actions. He had lived an entire life since that day, fought a series of cataclysmic battles and, in the process, he’d become perhaps the greatest hero known to mankind. But he still remembered that one day as if it had just happened. And the pain was fresh, as biting as it had been then, so long ago.
He had failed to save her, driven by his youthful arrogance to attempt too many things at one time. He had destroyed an enemy battleship, turned the tide of a crucial battle, but he’d been too late to get back to her dying ship. He’d been sure he could do both, or at least he’d convinced himself, so he could justify going after the damaged enemy first. But rescuing Charlotte, and the others on her crippled vessel, had been a step too far. By the time he’d gotten there she was dead, frozen in her quarters. They were all dead.
It wasn’t the first time he’d failed her. He had abandoned her years before that fateful day, to go off to the naval academy and begin a military career, one that would take him further than he could have imagined. He hadn’t admitted it to himself for many years, at least not in direct terms, but now he realized the harsh truth…that day he’d chosen glory over love. There wasn’t a doubt in his mind he’d loved Charlotte. He loved her still. But he’d told himself he would come back to her, that he would request a post on Terra Nova after graduation. He’d believed it when he said it, with all the foolishness an ambitious young man in love could conjure. But it was never reality, and years later he’d come to realize that she had known it all along, even that rainy day at the spaceport, when he’d held her one last time before boarding his shuttle…when they’d sworn they would be together after he finished at the Academy. Now when he remembered he understood, the way she’d held on to him, the desperation in her grip. He had masked his pain with false promises, but Charlotte hadn’t. She had known he was leaving her forever. He was sure of that now. He’d broken her heart that day. He had been the most important thing in her life, but she hadn’t been for him. There was one mistress that had come before her, that took him away. The call to battle…to glory.
It almost seemed absurd to him now that he would have returned to a posting on Terra Nova after graduation. The young Augustus Garret had been almost comically ill-suited to a desk job on a backwater world, and whatever lingering chance there had been that he would have chosen to that path was shattered when the Second Frontier War began. He graduated at the head of his class, bound for service with the frontline fleets…and he jumped into his career with both feet, distinguishing himself in a series of junior officer postings before he at last got what he’d longed for his entire life, a ship of his own to command.
Wasp had been a fast attack ship, just the kind of posting suited to an arrogant young officer new to command. The ‘suicide boats,’ as the fast but lightly-armored vessels were informally called, employed extremely aggressive tactics, taking great risks to attack heavier enemy vessels. It was on Wasp’s bridge that the young Garret issued the commands that destroyed an enemy battleship…and lost the love of his life.
It was a choice…your choice. You chose glory, and that devil’s bargain certainly paid off. You got your glory, more of it than any man could withstand. But that is all you got. All you have. The cost of such renown is steep, all consuming. And you paid its price.
His life would have been vastly different if he hadn’t boarded that shuttle, so much so he could hardly imagine it. Would he live in Bluestone Manor with Charlotte, his life’s love still alive and at his side? Would they be surrounded now by children and grandchildren, living a quiet life, one of relative obscurity, without the fame and glory that followed the great Augustus Garret wherever he went?
Would we have been happy? Or would I have just resented my choice, mourned for the life of glory I had imagined but that had never been?
He sighed softly. He knew some questions didn’t have answers, at least not meaningful ones. He had done what he had done, and there was little to be gained by rethinking what was long past.
“I love you, Charlotte,” he said, softly, almost inaudibly. He kissed his fingers, as he always did, and pressed his hand against the headstone, holding it there for a few seconds before he slowly rose to his feet. He stood still, staring for perhaps half a minute before he turned and walked down the path leading to the cemetery’s main gate.
Garret had failed Charlotte in life…but he had been doting in death, an obligation he felt to show his devotion in whatever pathetic ways he could now that it was far too late to do anything meaningful. The charade only mocked him with its pointlessness, but he was resolute nevertheless. He had brought her home after she died, and he had the magnificent blue marble imported for her headstone. Was it for her? Or to claw at him every time he came, a form of self-flagellation,
as if by his own pain he could reach her, make her know how sorry he was. Her grave had been covered in flowers for seventy years, something he’d arranged throughout his long and storied naval career, though he had gone decades without ever returning to Terra Nova himself. But when his last war was done, the great admiral had come back…to a home that no longer felt like home and a family he hardly knew.
He walked through the cemetery’s main entrance, a large masonry arch with a heavy iron gate. It was shabby, like most constructions on Terra Nova, and one side of the gate hung at an angle, as if it would fall from its mounting at any moment.
He turned onto the main path, a gravel road leading up a small hill, toward the rambling manor house the Garret family had called home for 180 years. The Garrets had always been moderately prosperous, but when Augustus finally returned home fifteen years before, he’d come to realize his fame had lifted the family’s fortunes. He was happy that his various nieces, nephews and cousins faced a less tenuous existence, but he also felt it was somehow wrong, as if his family’s fortune had been paid for with the blood of thousands of spacers and Marines.
“Admiral Garret?”
Garret looked up, the voice shaking him from his thoughts. There was a man approaching. He looked to be about seventy years of age, but Garret had learned to notice the telltale signs of rejuv treatments, and he suspected the visitor was well over one hundred years old. Maybe even a match for his own 108 years.
“Yes,” Garret replied. His voice was somber, still somewhat distracted. Visiting Charlotte’s grave always put him in a pensive state of mind. “I am Augustus Garret. What can I do for you?” Garret kept walking slowly down the path, waving for his visitor to come along.
“My name is Andre Girard, Admiral. Roderick Vance sent me to speak with you.”
Garret’s eyes brightened at the mention of Vance, and turned to face the visitor. “And how is old Roderick?” He remembered his first impression of Vance. He’d thought the Martian was a bit of a cold fish, not very likable. Garret generally trusted his initial evaluations of people, but he’d had to admit he had been wide of the mark on Vance. The Martian spy had proven to be a reliable ally through the horrendous series of wars mankind had endured… and a good friend too.