by Jay Allan
She paused, staring at the semi-confused president of Atlantia. “Now, do you want the information they take with them to be that Atlantia is craven and too cowardly to face invaders? Or that your forces responded aggressively, that your world’s defenses are crack and on high alert?”
DeSilva was quiet for a moment. Then he said, scraping up every bit of courage he could muster, “You are correct, of course, Minister. The fleet will continue on its mission.”
She wondered whether he’d truly understood, or if he’d just caved into her demands. Then she decided she just didn’t care.
“I am pleased you agree, Mr. President.” Her return to the proper form of address was her way of rewarding him, treating him as an ally rather than a petulant child. Still, even as she felt satisfaction from effectively controlling her charge, she began to wonder again how useful he truly was. Atlantia had been in the fold for more than two years, and everywhere, the secret police and other enforcement operations had clamped down hard. Those forces were full of Black Flag operatives, loyal to her, and not DeSilva.” Loyal to me as long as they fear me, she reminded herself. Did control of Atlantia still require the use of a native politician? Or were the vestiges and the facsimile of republican government no longer needed?
Perhaps she would contact her superiors and request permission to eliminate DeSilva…and take his place. Atlantia was a pleasant place, one she’d be happy to rule.
She smiled again at DeSilva, an expression that was the image of friendship and camaraderie.
Yes, perhaps it is time…
Chapter 7
Marine Headquarters
Planet Armstrong, Gamma Pavonis III
Earthdate: 2321 AD (36 Years After the Fall)
Erik Cain stepped off the shuttle and looked out over the tarmac of Armstrong’s massive landing field. The planet was a hive of activity, every manner of preparation for war underway, but Cain couldn’t help but see the place as a shadow of what it had once been. The Alliance had been destroyed long ago, and along with its corrupt government was lost the revenue source that had supported the Corps. The Marines had survived, continued on, funded by what revenues they were able to produce on Armstrong, plus the support of the few worlds that saw the advantages of having a strong force ready to defend humanity. Still, they were a shadow of the massive military machine Cain had led into battle decades earlier, alongside Elias Holm and the rest of the officers with whom he’d had the honor to serve.
Cain hadn’t seen Armstrong in years, yet even when he’d last been there, the decay had set in. Now, at least, many of the massive defenses were being restored, and even from the concrete of the spaceport’s main field, he could see groups of recruits drilling in the open fields near the training center. Those new Marines would not be the equal of those he’d led so many years before, not for many years, at least, but there were still old veterans to strengthen the ranks. Old Marines had been returning in droves, according to the reports he’d received, and even sixty and seventy year old sergeants were still mostly fit for field duty, courtesy of the rejuv treatments they’d all received.
He turned and smiled at his companion. Sarah Linden, or Cain, depending on which world’s customs were applied to the married couple, was not only his wife, she’d been his soulmate for half a century. They’d been through hell and back, separately and together, and she’d endured the fifteen years of his captivity, thinking he was dead. Now, he knew she was trying to deal with the fact that she’d allowed herself to give up on him, when all the while he’d been alive and a prisoner. And enduring a hell she could barely imagine.
She couldn’t imagine it. No one could. Cain had done all he could to hide the worst of what he’d gone through from his wife, from everyone. But Sarah had rebuilt his ravaged body, every bit of it, and however much he’d withheld the pain he’d been through, he was pretty sure she had a good idea of it.
“So, is it like you remember it?” she asked softly. Sarah had been back to Armstrong in the years since he’d vanished. She’d even moved there after the boys were out of the house. He understood. He didn’t think he could have endured the house they’d built together without her either.
Armstrong had been the Marines headquarters for almost fifty years, ever since the Corps had sided with the Alliance’s colonies in their struggle against the central government. The entire mess had been resolved, more or less, after considerable fighting. The colonies had secured a limited level of home rule, subject to certain obligations to the Alliance, and the Corps had decided it could no longer maintain its headquarters on Earth. Armstrong had been sparsely populated then, and almost entirely undeveloped, but the Marines had built it into a prosperous world, one that had managed to endure the decline of the Corps after the Fall, at least to an extent.
“It’s familiar…and different too.” He turned his head, looking around. He saw the buildings he remembered, and a few he didn’t. And in the shadows, he saw something else. Ghosts. The men and women he’d served with, the ones who’d died at his side, fighting with him or under his command. He was happy to be on a world he’d considered one of his homes, but the looming war brought back memories he’d have gladly left forgotten. He was deeply, truly sick of war, and he longed desperately for the one thing he knew he couldn’t have, that he wondered if he could ever attain…peace.
“We had to make a lot of changes, repurpose some of the factories to produce goods we could sell. We didn’t have as many Marines to take care of anymore, anyway, and we needed the revenue. It wasn’t easy, but we managed to do enough to keep the Corps alive.”
“You did an amazing job. Amazing. I’m so sorry I wasn’t here for you. Here to help you. To be with you.”
“You’ve always been with me, Erik. Every moment, wherever you were. Nothing can separate us. Haven’t you learned that by now?”
He turned and smiled, but before he could answer, another voice rang through the clear morning.
“Erik Cain, welcome to Armstrong.” Cate Gilson walked over to Cain and gave him an enthusiastic hug. “Salutes be damned, old friend. Welcome home.”
“Thank you, Cate. It’s good to be back.” And it was, at least in many ways. It was bittersweet too, but that kind of thinking led down a path he didn’t have the time or energy to explore now. “It’s good to see you again too.” He’d had his first reunion with Gilson back on Titan, when the major players who would stand against the Black Flag had gathered to plot strategy. That meeting had been productive, at least as much as it could be for an outnumbered and outmatched group of worlds struggling to face an enemy they didn’t understand, but it had also been a reunion of sorts, the chance for Cain to see the small group of people who were truly important to him. He was still infirmed then, confined to a powered chair, but the camaraderie of that gathering had restored a part of the strength he had lost. He wasn’t sure he could be again what he had before, the tireless Marine general, struggling against any enemy, any odds. But he was ready to try.
“Come, both of you.” Gilson slid over and hugged Sarah too. “I have everything ready for you. Your apartments were too small, Sarah, so I moved you back to your old quarters. I know you didn’t want to be there when…” She paused, a look of pain passing over her face. “Well, you’re both back again, so I thought you should have your old rooms.” She paused and then, clearly trying to pull away from the darker memories she’d touched on, she added, “But don’t worry…I’ve had them updated and redecorated. You’ll feel like you’re in a palace.”
“Thank you, Cate. I appreciate that. But you’ve seen some of the billets I’ve drawn over the years.” His eyes fixed on Gilson, and he noticed the same thing he had on Titan. She had aged, more even than he’d have expected in the seventeen years he was gone. It was the stress, he knew, the pressure of being one of the last of the old guard, fighting the endless battle to keep the Corps alive in a universe that only appreciated it when an enemy threatened. He knew he’d endured the most, his seemingly
endless years of torture and captivity beyond his ability to even describe. But Sarah and Cate and the others had all suffered in their own ways. He promised himself he would remember, that he would not allow himself to feel sorry for sufferings, for what he’d been through.
“Let’s go, we’ll get both of you settled in, and later we can have dinner and a long talk. I know there’s work to do, and hours before we sleep, so to speak, but I think we can spare one evening, don’t you? One night to catch up, maybe tell a few war stories from the past?”
Cain smiled, and then he flashed a glance to Sarah. “I think we’d both enjoy that, Cate. I think we’d enjoy it a lot.”
* * * * *
“We’ve recalled everyone we could reach, Erik. Almost ninety percent of those who were…free…agreed to return to active duty, though we had no legal hold on them to compel them to, as we would have had back in Alliance days.”
Cain looked across the table at Gilson. Their working lunch was nothing but a few sandwiches and the like, but after fifteen years of eating swill that would give a goat’s stomach flops—and often nothing at all—Cain still hadn’t quite shaken the wondrous effect real food had on him. He remembered years of working meals, when the subject at hand had so distracted him he forgot to eat so much as a bite, but now he just wondered what the hell had been wrong with him, and he grabbed another sandwich.
“Ninety percent is extraordinary, Cate,” Cain said, his mouth still a bit full. “It was never a legal mandate that brought our people back. You always knew that, as did I, and here is the proof.” His mind was still on one part of what she’d said. “What did you mean by ‘free?’”
“Well, our people live on dozens of worlds, almost all of them different nations now, and with the planets of Occupied Space in a panic about the Black Flag, many have drafted citizens to bolster their defenses. Of course, many of them sought out any veterans they had among their populations, and Marines retirees are always at the top of lists like that.” She paused. “Then, of course, there’s your son.” She hesitated again for a few seconds. “Did you realize how many of Darius’s senior officers and commanders are veterans of the Corps?”
“No,” Cain said, sounding thoughtful. “I can’t say I really did. I met a few familiar faces while I was there…and, of course, he’s got Tom Sparks heading up his R&D.” The scientist, formerly a Marine, now a Black Eagle was the smartest son of a bitch Cain had ever met. Perhaps no man had contributed more toward the Corps victories and survival than the man who’d put leading edge weapons in their hands. And, certainly, no one had gleaned more from the wreckage of First Imperium tech than Sparks.
“He’s got at least seven hundred of our people…our former people, I guess…and maybe more. That’s only what I could glean from the limited access I have to his records. Darius is pretty tight-lipped about things.”
That was putting it mildly, he knew. Darius was cold, secretive, untrusting…all his own hard and difficult traits, in a stronger, concentrated form. It had made his son a deadly warrior, perhaps the deadliest that ever lived, but it had also condemned him to a sort of isolation and loneliness, even surrounded by his fanatically loyal army.
“Did you try to recruit any of them?” Cain was edgy. He wasn’t sure how Darius would react to something like that, but he had an idea it wouldn’t be good.”
“No, of course not. The Black Eagles are an ally.” A pause. “But I can’t say I didn’t make sure the word got out. Recruiting is one thing, accepting volunteers is another.”
“And so, did you get many volunteers?” Cain’s edginess was still there. He wasn’t too sure Darius would differentiate between such efforts.
“Not one. Granted, many may not have heard that we were calling back all the old veterans, but some must have. And yet not a single one left the Eagles to return.”
Cain understood the angst in Gilson’s voice. The Marines had come to expect almost unlimited loyalty and dedication in their people. And, in fairness, those former Marines who were now Eagles knew they were on the same side. They weren’t choosing to fight against the Corps, or even stand aside as the Marines fought…and certainly most of them felt they could serve the war effort more effectively in their current positions. But still, none?
“Darius has an effect on his people, Cate.”
“Like you always did.”
Cain felt a wave of embarrassment. “Marines follow their leaders.”
“Yes, they do. But it was always something different with you, Erik. They respected me, obeyed me, followed me…but they loved you. For as long as I can remember.” A short break. “Elias always knew it too. He told me that’s what made you such a natural leader. He won the admiration of his soldiers, and over years that turned to a sort of admiration, even love. But with you it was almost natural. You had that bond with the Marines in the field, Erik. You always did.”
Cain didn’t answer right away. Such talk always made him uncomfortable, and he tended to shy away from it. He knew his Marines had followed him loyally year after year, but he couldn’t understand how they could love him, how they could do anything but secretly hate him. How many had he gotten killed? How many died, lying in the mud as their life’s blood spilled out, cursing his name? That was always the image in his head, though he knew, on some level, it wasn’t the truth.
“Well, let’s hope I still have whatever is left of that, because we’re going to need to get everything we can coax from these Marines. There aren’t our old veterans, not for the most part, and I wouldn’t count on having the advantage against our enemies, not in training nor in technology…and certainly not in numbers.” Cain took a deep breath. There was little to be gained by expanding on his deepest concerns, not when there was nothing to be done about any of it.
“Well,” Gilson said, her voice deeper even than it had been years before, and scratchy now too, “if we can’t have any of those things, we’ll have to rely on what has always carried the Corps to victory. We’ll have to rely on the spirit of the Marines. They will do what must be done, Erik, as they always have.”
Cain stared back across the table, holding back a thousand memories. Then he said, simply, “As they always have.”
Chapter 8
“The Nest” – Black Eagles Base
Second Moon of Eos, Eta Cassiopeiae VII
Earthdate: 2321 AD (36 Years After the Fall)
“Well done, Captain Grayson, well done. All of you…magnificent job.” Darius Cain stood on the deck of the Nest’s landing bay, his eyes darting past Eagle Fourteen’s commander and a cluster of his officers for an instant, as a column of soldiers led the three Black Flag prisoners from Eagle Fourteen’s shuttle. “On the prisoners, and on capturing a Black Flag ship. You achieved vastly more than I dared to hope for. This intelligence will be of immense value. You and your people have covered yourselves in glory. Go, return to your quarters, get some rest. We can wait until tomorrow for serious debriefing.”
“Thank you, General. I am pleased we were able to complete the mission successfully.” The officer stepped back and snapped off a perfect salute before turning and walking off the deck, just as Darius had told him to do.
Elias watched as his brother commended his subordinate, the way the grizzled old veteran responded, almost worshipful toward his commander. Darius had something, there was no arguing that. He’d never seen anyone have such an influence over such hard men and women. This was no politician manipulating half-attentive masses. The Eagles, especially the senior officers, were strong, capable. Yet they withered in Darius’s presence, as if the slightest praise from him was the greatest reward possible, and the merest word of reproach would hit them harder than a hyper-velocity autocannon.
“Great job, Elias,” Darius said as he watched Grayson and his people step out of the bay. “I mean it,” he added a few seconds later. “We’ve had our…differences, I know, but we’re both Cains. We should never let ourselves forget that.” Darius paused again, then, with just the
slightest hint of recognizable emotion he said, “I am glad to have my brother back.”
Elias was surprised, not that Darius felt that way, but that he’d actually managed to say it. The two of them had been at odds their entire adult lives, and if there was one thing Elias knew about his twin, it was that Darius Cain did not let sentimentality take control. Not often, at least.
“I feel the same way, Darius. And thank you. I’m also glad we were able to succeed. I wish we’d managed to get more information on Atlantia itself, but it seems pretty clear they’re in the tank for the Black Flag. Elias was somber. It hurt him that his homeworld had fallen into darkness, that he was an enemy to his own people, or at least to the government that ruled them. He suspected Darius felt the same, somewhere deep—very deep—down, but he doubted his brother would ever admit the slightest concern for the world that had considered him an outlaw for almost fifteen years now.
“Intelligence on Atlantia beyond what you already gathered would be of little value. However, the prisoners, and the ship…they are potentially of great worth.”
“You think the captives know something about Vali?” Elias and his allies knew the name of the enemy’s homeworld, but little else, save that it was hidden, and that it was the greatest fortress and industrial powerhouse that ever existed, one no doubt built by slave labor, much of it taken from the ruined Earth.
“I hope so. One thing is certain. I will find out what they know.”
Elias suppressed a shiver at his brother’s tone. He knew they needed to get any knowledge that the prisoners had, but the casual coldness in Darius’s voice when he discussed an interrogation process Elias could only imagine was…complete…was unsettling.
“We will tear that ship apart too. I’m sure they did everything they could to hide any useful data, but just maybe you managed to disable any systems that would have erased what we need. Clearly, they rely on a self-destruct doctrine, very likely enforced by ships’ AIs or heavy conditioning. Perhaps the failure of this ship to destroy itself will have left some clues, something we can use to track down this shadowy enemy world.”