Crimson Worlds Successors: The Complete Trilogy

by Jay Allan

  Elias began to wonder if the enemy’s headquarters was some frozen planet, lost in the vast reaches of near-interstellar space. It seemed doubtful that such a barren place could have produced the vast amount of ships and weapons the Black Flag possessed, but he’d never heard of a warp gate so far out from a primary.

  “Tom, we may need to consider some things here. Is it possible these ships detected us, that they are leading us away from their base and not to it?”

  “I’ve considered that, Elias, but why go to that trouble? If they’d spotted us, they could have blasted us to plasma in minutes.”

  Elias sighed. Sparks was right. He looked at every possibility he could imagine, and nothing made sense…except that the enemy was heading toward their secret warp gate, and they just hadn’t gotten there yet.

  “Elias!”

  He turned toward Sparks, and then to the display, but the instant he heard the engineer’s voice he knew.

  One of the enemy ships was gone, and then, as he watched, another vanished. Then another, and two more. The Black Flag fleet was transiting…the scanners confirmed it. There had been no sign of the warp gate, none at all. But it seemed pretty definite it was there.

  “I’ve never seen such an undetectable energy level from a warp gate, even from one that had remained hidden for a time. Perhaps it is the distance from the primary.”

  “Perhaps.” Elias didn’t care. All that mattered was his people had found what they were looking for.

  Or had they?

  “We have to follow them in, Tom.”

  Sparks turned and looked back at Elias. “The risk of detection…it’s too great. If that is there base system, there could be all sorts of scanner screens.”

  “I know, Tom, but for all we know, there are more systems back there. The Black Flag’s home could be right behind that gate…or twenty transits away. We have to know.”

  “But if we go in there now, and we get caught, Darius and the others will never even know that we’ve tracked the enemy this far.”

  Elias leaned back and sighed. Sparks was right. Whatever he did, he had to get word back to Darius. “Can the gig make it back to the Nest?”

  “Unlikely. It is transit-capable, but that’s a long trip. And the limited thrust capability means the journey would take months longer, perhaps half a year.”

  Elias wracked his brain. He could go back now, report on what he’d found. What he thought he’d found. Or he could risk everything in an attempt to get more information.

  Or he could do both. “You go back, Tom. Get the word to Darius.”

  “Elias, no…”

  “I’ll take two volunteers, and we’ll take the gig through.”

  “That’s suicide, Elias. They’ll pick you up the instant you transit.”

  “Not if you transfer the stealth generator to the gig. It puts SS03 at some additional risk of running into enemy units on the way back, but she’s a pretty quiet ship even without the generator, and you can alter your return path, avoid likely areas where you might encounter Black Flag ships.”

  Sparks looked uncomfortable with the whole discussion, but his expression shifted slowly. “I might just be able to do that…if I can ratchet down the power level to match the gig’s smaller reactor. It will be risky.” He looked at Elias.

  “What are any of us doing now that isn’t risky?” A pause. “Do it, Tom.”

  Sparks nodded slowly. “Okay, but I’m coming with you.”

  “No, Tom. You can’t. Darius will need you. To work the navigation. To keep the fleet as combat ready as possible. I’m his brother, but I don’t have any role in what is happening…none except this.”

  “You know the risks, Elias. You could die before the fleet gets back. You could die five minutes after you transit.”

  “And a Marine or an Eagle could die on the initial drop, killed by a malfunction or hit by enemy fire. He’d be just as dead. There’s no safe job in any of this, Tom. But this one is mine.”

  Chapter 28

  “The Nest” – Black Eagles Base

  Second Moon of Eos, Eta Cassiopeiae VII

  Earthdate: 2322 AD (37 Years After the Fall)

  The Grand Fleet had assembled. All throughout the Eta Cassiopeiae system, warships floated through space, and freighters carried weapons and supplies. All the might the allies could amass was in one place, ready to strike a desperate blow, one titanic struggle that could result only in total victory or utter defeat and death.

  The Black Eagles were the core of the force, along with the Marines, both their fleets and ground forces ready. The warships had been repaired from the ravages of the Nest and Armstrong struggles as well as time and conditions had allowed, but many of the great combat vessels were going to war still scarred and battered by their previous fights. Now, they were joined by more ships, the fleets and navies of three dozen planets, some no more than a few light patrol ships, others powerful squadrons built around heavy cruisers, and in a few instances, old battleships, mostly dating back to the days of the Superpowers.

  Darius Cain stood on the observation deck of the Nest, staring out into the dark emptiness. It would be time soon, time to strike the blow he’d been preparing for in one way or another since the Black Flag had emerged. All of free humanity was there, assembled around his base, soldiers, spacers, every warrior he could muster.

  Save one.

  Tom Sparks had returned on SS03, bringing back the word that the enemy fleet had transited through a previously undiscovered warp gate, exactly what Darius had expected. What Darius hadn’t expected was for SS03 to come back without his brother.

  Sparks had been sorrowful, apologetic, especially as days turned to weeks and then to months, all without a sign of Elias and his two companions. The scientist blamed himself for leaving Elias, but Darius had tried to relieve him of such thoughts. He was as worried as anyone, more, but he knew Elias had inherited the same Cain stubbornness he had. His brother hadn’t had an existence that matched his own in terms of notoriety—who had?—but if Tom Sparks thought he’d had any chance of convincing Elias to do anything except exactly what he’d intended to do, he needed a crash lesson in the handling of the Cain men.

  Or the women. Darius pitied anyone trying to change his mother’s mind when she was determined.

  Darius wasn’t an optimist by nature. His tactical side, the intellect and instincts that had made him such a renowned commander, told him his brother was dead, lost trying to scout out the enemy’s homeworld. Indeed, though he felt a wave of self-loathing even thinking about it, he realized Elias’s failure to return supported the assumption that the enemy’s main base indeed lay just behind that last warp gate.

  But, in spite of his cynicism, his grim nature, a part of him believed his brother was still alive. It was idiocy, he thought, the kind of absurd foolishness people allowed to cloud their judgment, but still, on some level he was sure he would know if Elias had died.

  He forced his mind from idle wanderings. Elias was either alive or dead, and there was nothing he could do about it. He was coming…coming to bring a nightmare down on those who had brought such ruin and misery to Occupied Space. He would either find his brother, or he would avenge him.

  And if it was the latter, he pitied whoever was out there, hiding behind the Black Flag and its fleets and armies. The Black Eagles were coming for them. Darius Cain was coming.

  He heard a sound and turned, abruptly, his combat instincts reacting for an instant. There were Martians and Columbians in the Grand Fleet and Army, fugitive Atlantians and survivors from Armstrong, volunteers from a hundred worlds…and even a refugee from shattered Earth.

  “You can’t give up on him, Darius.” The man paused by the doorway for a few seconds, and then he walked up to Darius.

  Axe had been close to death when the Martians had rescued him from Earth’s ruins, and he’d gone on to become one of Darius Cain’s few true friends. The former leader, first of a murderous gang, and then of a band of survivo
rs struggling to endure in the radioactive wreckage of their world, he was now a Black Eagle, and ready to fight, to take his vengeance on those who had raided his planet, stolen his people as slaves. Including his wife. Ellie had been gone for years now, and while Darius knew his friend had sworn he would find her one day, he suspected Axe had come close to giving up hope that she was still alive.

  “I have always been a realist, Axe. You should know that by now.”

  “Was it realistic that you accomplished all you have? Did you imagine all of this when you left home and joined your first band of mercenaries? Was it realistic that your father was alive for so many years, that you were able to find him and get him back alive?”

  Darius allowed himself something close to a smile. “Since when have you embraced the bright side of things?” By any standard of measurement, Axe had led a hard and bitter life. He didn’t speak about his past with many people, but he’d told Darius everything…even the terrible things he’d done in his youth.

  “Always, my friend…though perhaps sometimes I didn’t realize it. I know the odds of finding Ellie are almost nonexistent. But I haven’t given up. I won’t. I can’t. There are times I can feel my belief fading, but then I see something like your father returning to you…and I press on.”

  Darius looked back at his friend, but he didn’t say anything.

  “You are the greatest military leader I have ever heard of, maybe the best there has ever been. You are smart, strong, capable…but I think you sometimes forget the things we fight for, and hope is one of those. What would have happened if there had been no Black Flag, Darius? What did you fight for? Wealth? How much more could you have wanted? Would another trillion credits have satisfied the drive that pushes you? To be the best? You and the Eagles are already the best, utterly unchallenged.”

  Darius listened to Axe. No one had ever spoken to him quite like his friend was doing now.

  “With no Black Flag, so rescue mission to save your father, where is Darius Cain at fifty? You’ve never been interested in conquest, in political power, but what else would there have been? Would you have become mankind’s oppressor if the Black Flag hadn’t done it first? Would boredom have driven you to become a conqueror? Would that unstoppable drive have compelled you to become a tyrant? And what then? I was never a man of letters, certainly, but I’ve read some of the books in your library. There was conqueror, on old Earth, centuries ago. They say he swept over his enemies, crushed and subjugated them all…and then he wept, for there were no new worlds to conquer. Is that you, my friend, driven solely by cold ambition, a man with no room for hope, for belief?”

  Darius took a deep breath. He wanted to disregard Axe’s words, but they hit a little too close to home. Finally, he said, “I don’t know, Axe. All I see is people believing what they want to believe, and who they want to believe. They ignore logic, they yield their freedoms to those who tell them what they want to hear. Where is the line? How does one embrace hope, believe in things beyond cold logic…without being a fool?”

  Axe didn’t have an answer, or if he did, he kept it to himself. The two men stood there, silent for a long time, looking out into the inky blackness. Axe’s words floated in Darius’s mind, but he didn’t come to any conclusions, none save one. One that had been there before.

  Somehow, he knew his brother was still alive…

  * * * * *

  “The implants extend into the subject’s spinal cord. They generate electrical pulses that interfere with nervous system functioning. In general, a soldier with one of these is a bit stronger and faster, somewhat like a moderate adrenalin boost, not very different than one of our stims.” Sparks stood in the front of the auditorium with Sarah next to him. The two had been studying the neuromechanical devices found in the enemy soldiers killed on Armstrong, and now they were briefing the others.

  “All the time?” Darius spoke first, saying what he knew the others, the high command of the Grand Fleet and Army, were thinking. “I mean, yes, we use stims in battle, but we don’t dare give full dosages on a constant basis. The soldiers would…”

  “Yes, Darius, but that is because you care what happens to your troops.” Sarah interrupted her son, perhaps one of the very few in Occupied Space who would have dared to do so. “You would not use a system that might cause debilitating strokes in ten percent of your force, or massive incidences of renal failure. But what if all that concerned you was winning the battle, and damned the consequences on the men and women who fought it? That extra burst might be vital on the field…and what difference if ten thousand of your troopers die afterward?” There was bitterness in her voice, anger at the way the enemy treated its people. Darius knew Sarah was considered the softer Cain, but he realized that assessment was based more on ignorance than anything else. She was a doctor, and she struggled to save the sick and wounded, but he suspected if those behind the Black Flag fell into her hands, they’d be begging for his own tender mercies.

  “The Black Flag certainly has different philosophies than ours, which is why we face the battle we do, the struggle for the future.” Darius smiled as he watched Sparks jump in as his mother got angry. The two had known each other for decades, and Sparks was one of the few who understood just how much Sarah was a true Cain. “But the enhancement capabilities are of relatively little concern to us. We can balance any enemy advantage with stims, at least for short periods of time.” He paused. “But there is more to the implant. It is also the source of the enemy’s seeming lack of fear, of even the most basic self-preservation instincts.” A pause. “Indeed, it is more. The nerve interference that seems to eliminate all fear appears to operate the same way on other factors that limit combat effectiveness. Pain, fatigue…all are reduced or eliminated by the implant. You may shoot one of these soldiers, but if you don’t kill or physically incapacitate him, he will keep coming.”

  “Thank you, Doctor,” Darius said softly, getting up from his seat in the first row. “You have given us all something to consider. These modifications certainly make the enemy a more dangerous adversary, and they also explain some of the situations we encountered on Armstrong.” He climbed the small set of stairs to the stage, and he turned to look out at those present, over a thousand soldiers and spacers, officers from all across the Grand Fleet. “I want to thank you all for coming to this briefing. Certainly, these implants are a tactical factor we must consider as the campaign unfolds.” He paused for a moment. “There is no end to the discussions we could have, but the fleet is leaving in the morning, and tomorrow is going to be a big day. I suggest you all try to get some rest.” He turned, looking down at the others sitting in the front row. “I would ask the members of the command council to stay, and join me in the conference room. We have some final matters to discuss.”

  * * * * *

  “The mission parameters are simple. Shoot to kill. Anything that stands in our way is an enemy and must be destroyed.” Darius’s voice was raw, angry.

  “But Darius, those soldiers, they are our people. Spacers captured when their ships were taken, survivors kidnapped from Earth, and who knows how many other places. We have to try to find a way to save them.” Cate Gilson had been arguing with Darius for five minutes now, and neither one showed any sign of backing down.

  “Will we save them by losing the war? We have an immense fight on our hands, you know that. We may commit everything we have into this and lose anyway. No doubt, the odds are against us. But we’re going in anyway. I’m going, you’re going, all of our people are going. I will lead them into battle, Cate, but not into some slaughter where they’re holding back, too afraid to shoot the bastards that are shooting at them. So, maybe they were our people. They’re not anymore. The men and women at your back when we go in…they are your people, and that is where your concern has to be. There and only there.” He slammed his fist on the table in frustration. Darius’s Eagles had always kept collateral damage as low as possible in their battles, far lower than the other companies, and
yet he found himself constantly debating the issue.

  “I’m not saying we put the operation at risk, or any of our people…”

  “That’s exactly what you’re saying. You just think if you phrase it differently, it will mean something else. You’ve been fighting since before I was born. How can you be so…”

  “Stop.” Erik Cain’s voice was loud, his tone hard. The room went silent. “All of you. Darius is right. I was one of those refugees, for fifteen years. I was taken from my ship and imprisoned. I could as easily have been outfitted with one of those implants and sent into the battle. And if that had happened, I would have expected, I would have wanted, each of you to treat me as any other enemy. I would not want Marines dying at my hand, nor Eagles, nor any of our troops. The guilt of using these people as weapons lies with our enemy, not with our soldiers risking their lives to end this nightmare.”

  Cain was silent for a moment, but before anyone else spoke he went on. “But Cate is right too. Those are our people. They are not fighting out of greed or ideology. They are slaves, driven by these…things…in their spines. They are victims, as much as any of our own people who fall. At some point, we need to ask ourselves, what are we? Because if we’re no better than our enemies, if we use their evil to justify anything we want to do, what difference does it make who wins?”

  “But it won’t make a difference, Father, not if we lose. I know we’ve all been going hard on the morale boosting, but I don’t think there’s anyone in this room now who doesn’t realize we’re more likely going to our deaths than to victory. Whatever chance we have requires us to do everything—everything—we can to claw out the win here.”

  “You’re right, Darius. We will have to kill the enemy’s soldiers, whoever they are, on sight, without hesitation. But I believe we also need to make some effort to try and target our assault on the true guilty parties, the enemy’s leadership. If he can cut off the head, perhaps we can find a way to save some of the enemy’s slaves.”