by Jay Allan
“Lead elements crossing the red line now, sir.” Barrington stared into the scope. The seconds passed by, each one slow, agonizing.
Young sat in his chair, looking over at his tactical officer. He was waiting for the word the enemy had attacked…that they were at war. But there was only silence.
“No readings, sir. The entire fleet has passed the red line, and I’ve detected no…” Barrington stopped abruptly. “Sir…scanners are picking up multiple launches from the enemy fleet.” There was urgency in his voice now, and unmasked fear. His head spun toward Young. “It’s confirmed, sir. The enemy has fired torpedoes.”
Young sat silently for a few seconds. He felt like he was going to vomit, but he clamped down on his emotions. Now, he thought…now is your test. Are you really an admiral worthy of leading this fleet? Or are you just the spoiled youngest son of a wealthy family, good for nothing at all? He took a single deep breath and exhaled hard. “All ships are to open fire immediately. All attack boat squadrons…launch.”
The Alliance and the CAC were at war.
“We’ve got to keep going. We’re still way too close to the city.” The sun had been down for half an hour, and dusk was giving way to total darkness. Axe was walking along the crumbling wreckage of what had once been a major highway. It was mostly broken chunks of ancient asphalt now, with huge sections of exposed dirt showing in places. There were deep holes in some areas, where the upper structure had collapsed to reveal utility lines and other mechanicals below.
He would have preferred to head west from the city, where they would have had more choices on where to go. But it just wasn’t an option, not from where they started out. His small band would have had to cross two rivers just to get out of New York, and the old New Jersey waterfront was a notoriously violent slum, even worse than Brooklyn…and run by rival gangs instead of his own. Besides, the mobs of angry Cogs were rampaging all along the Brooklyn waterfront…and there were still dangerous radioactive hotspots in lower Manhattan. In the end he decided heading east, farther out onto Long Island was the only practical thing to do.
The lands east of Brooklyn had once been a massively-populated suburb, inhabited by millions, but it had long since been virtually abandoned. Alliance Gov liked to keep people centralized where they were easier to watch, so they encouraged people to move to the cities. At first, they used persuasion and enticed them with promises of better jobs and homes. But eventually they just withdrew all civil services and unleashed the gangs on the holdouts. The areas of the island east of the city had been virtually abandoned for close to a century. The perfect place to hide…and wait and see how things played out.
“What the hell is going on, anyway?” Tank was loyal to Axe; there was no question about that. It was why he was part of the small group the former gang leader took with him when he fled Brooklyn. He was a hulking bull of a man, which Axe knew would come in handy if they ran into any fighting, but no one was going to confuse Tank Jones with a genius.
Axe sighed. Sometimes he wished Tank would just shut up and not try to think. “The economy is crashing. Everything’s shutting down. They’re having trouble keeping the Politicos fed and supplied…which is why the Cogs in places like Brooklyn are getting nothing. And that’s why they’re in the streets.” He paused, feeling a chill when he thought of the staggering rage now ruling the mobs back in Brooklyn, and probably everywhere else. The Cogs had been so docile, so easy to intimidate. But that was when they still clung to their miserable but sustainable lives. They never had much, but it was enough for most of them to survive. Now they were truly desperate, faced with the prospect of watching their families starve to death. All the anger they’d repressed, the hatred that had grown deep inside them…it was all coming out, erupting like a volcano that had long been building pressure. “He glanced over his shoulder back toward Brooklyn. “And that’s why we’re getting the hell out while we can.”
Chapter 14
Martian Command Bunker
Garibaldi Base
Mars, Sol IV
Roderick Vance sat at the end of the table rubbing his temples with considerable force. His head was throbbing. The bad news just kept coming, like water pouring from a broken floodgate. Vance had a reputation for being cold and efficient, but he was worn down and exhausted…and that was something he knew he couldn’t afford. If someone was going to stop Gavin Stark it was probably going to be him, and he’d need to be at his best to have a chance. Garret, Holm, and Cain were incredibly capable warriors, but Vance was the only spy in the group. A psychopath as brilliant as Stark couldn’t be beaten by force alone…not without overwhelming superiority Vance knew his allies didn’t have. Stark was too smart, too careful…his plans would have backups and contingencies to cover the backups.
Vance looked down at the table, his expression grim. He had come to the realization that even he had underestimated Stark. He’d known the Alliance spy was ruthless, willing to sacrifice thousands to achieve his goals. But now he saw there was no limit to what the bastard would do. Stark was willing to see millions die, even billions, if that’s what it took to secure his final victory. Vance realized he faced an enemy who would do literally anything to accomplish his goals.
To make matters worse, war was breaking out on Earth, largely through Stark’s machinations. Vance had hoped to leverage the good feeling from the victory against the First Imperium to usher in a new era of greater cooperation between the Powers. But Stark had masterfully manipulated the situation, destroying Vance’s work and turning the camaraderie and good feeling into mistrust and hatred.
Europa Federalis and the CEL were already locked in a death struggle, their entire border a brutal war zone. There were hundreds of thousands of casualties already, and the battle was still escalating. Vance doubted the CEL had any part in the destruction of Marseilles, though the evidence certainly suggested their involvement. He smelled the stench of Gavin Stark behind that tragedy too, but he hadn’t been sure…not until additional evidence from the blast area began pointing toward Mars as well as the CEL. It was fairly thin, but the Superpowers were all leery of the Confederation after the attack on Stark’s Dakota base. Paranoia was running rampant through the capitals of Earth, and any suspicion was blown enormously out of proportion and given the status of proven fact.
His eyes drifted back to the screen…and the dire message it displayed. More bad news…possibly the worst yet. The ocean navies of the Alliance and the CAC had clashed in the South Pacific with massive losses on both sides. The Alliance Senate had declared war on the Central Asian Combine, and the CAC Committee responded in kind within an hour. The next morning the Caliphate issued a declaration against the Alliance, responding to its treaty obligations, and the Pacific Rim Coalition did the same and declared war against the Caliphate and the CAC.
In less than two weeks, six of the eight Earth Superpowers were at war. The Treaty of Paris was in tatters, and a generation of political leaders who had no living memory of the horrors of the Unification Wars prepared to unleash their armies for the first time in a century. The war between Europa Federalis and the CEL was largely a regional affair, offering some hope of containment, but now the 4 most powerful Superpowers were locked in a global death struggle, one that could very well lead to total apocalypse.
Stark had tried to contact Li An, but the CAC’s top spy was nowhere to be found. He knew Li had been against war with the Alliance, working behind the scenes to defuse tensions. But what would she do now that conflict was a reality? Li An was smart, cunning, willing to go to considerable lengths to achieve her goals. But he knew she’d never do anything that endangered the CAC. Vance didn’t doubt Li An’s loyalty to her homeland. If war was unavoidable, however much she might have been against it, she would do her best to help the CAC win it.
Maybe she had cut ties with him, unsure where Mars would end up in the rapidly-expanding conflict. Or perhaps she had continued to counsel peace and been eliminated by the pro-war forces in the gove
rnment. He found it difficult to imagine anyone outsmarting Li enough to successfully assassinate her, but he had to remind himself that no one was invincible. And Li An was very old now and well past the peak of her abilities. Perhaps she’d finally slipped up enough and paid the price. Or even decided she had no desire to see the final war through to its inevitable conclusion. He had a mental image of her sitting at her desk, peacefully sipping on a Scotch as she allowed her assassin to penetrate her inner sanctum.
Vance didn’t know. He was used to being a master operator, the one pulling the strings. But he’d never faced off in a death struggle against an adversary like Gavin Stark. What freak of genetics, he wondered, produced a monster of such amorality and stunning ability combined? Vance was not a religious man, but he had trouble imagining Gavin Stark as nothing more than an accident of genetics and environment. It was almost easier to think of him as an antichrist or some other great beast from man’s ancient religions, come to punish him for his many sins. “Stark is just a man,” he muttered to himself, forcing his thoughts back to cold reality. He sat at his desk, fists clenched in frustration. “He is just a man, and he can be defeated.” He paused. “And we will find a way to beat him…” – he stared grimly ahead – “…to destroy him…whatever it takes.”
Vance breezed into the room, his hurried steps not quite a run, but certainly a jog. Roderick Vance - who admired punctuality, who demanded it of his subordinates, who had broken agents’ careers over habitual tardiness – was late.
“I’m sorry for my lack of punctuality.” He flopped down into his chair with considerably less grace than usual. “I’m afraid there was more news on the Alliance-CAC engagement, and I wanted to be fully briefed for our meeting. It was a reasonable excuse for being late, but he couldn’t help but flash back to more than one occasion when he’d castigated hapless agents who’d offered equally valid explanations. He felt a twinge of regret…and a passing thought that maybe he had his own touch of the sociopathy that ruled Gavin Stark. Perhaps all successful spies did. But he put it out of his mind immediately. There was no time for self-indulgent soul searching. Not now.
“Don’t give it a second thought, Roderick.” Sebastian Vallen spoke in a soothing tone. He, better than anyone, knew the workload Vance had taken on himself. The last thing he wanted – the last thing any of them could afford right now – was for Vance to waste time and attention on foolish protocols. Vallen had been the younger man’s mentor for decades, and he knew Roderick Vance was a genius. He was also well aware his protégé suffered from an epic case of OCD. The Martian spymaster would be facing his greatest challenge in the weeks and months ahead. They were going to need him at his best if they were going to have any chance at all to salvage the rapidly deteriorating situation. Vallen had confidence in Vance, and he believed deep down that his friend could defeat Gavin Stark. If he didn’t lose his mind first.
Vallen leaned back, deliberately telegraphing a relaxed mood. “So what do you have for us this morning, Roderick?”
Vance nodded at his oldest friend and then glanced down at the ‘pad he’d placed on the table. “Let’s begin with the wars on Earth. We must consider these conflicts to be the greatest danger.” He knew what Stark wanted…that the wars on Earth were his idea of a diversion. But 99% of mankind still lived on the homeworld, and the Powers possessed enough weapons to kill them a hundred times over. It took a mind like Stark’s to consider that a diversion.
Vance looked out over the table at the oligarchs, the men – and one woman - who effectively ruled the Confederation. Each of them could trace a direct line of descent from the original settlers. Mars prided itself on being a fairer, more open society than any of the Earth-based Powers. That was true, but only a point. Those who had been there first had managed to reserve the real power to themselves…and their descendants. Mars was a free society of sorts, but only by comparison with the statist regimes that ruled on Earth.
He paused for a few seconds and then cleared his throat. “First, the conflict in Europe. Europa Federalis and the CEL have continued to fight along their entire border. The combat has been high intensity, and casualties have been extraordinarily heavy. Fortunately, the war has remained largely conventional. There was a brief exchange of tactical nuclear weapons, but both sides quickly de-escalated.”
His eyes dropped to glance at his ‘pad before continuing. “Unexpectedly, the Europans seem to have gained the upper hand, and their forces have penetrated 10-40 kilometers into CEL territory.” He paused, noting the surprised looks around the table. “Except in one small area on the southern end of the front. It appears the CEL forces have stopped the Europans cold in that sector.”
“What happened there?” asked Vallen.
“It is hard to be sure. Our details at that level are limited. It appears that a battalion commander was instrumental in turning back a heavy Europan attack.” Vance’s voice was tentative…the facts he was disclosing were unconfirmed rumors at best…and wild guesses at worst. But it was all he had, so he continued. “Subsequently, it appears he was made acting brigade commander, after which he launched a successful localized counter-attack.” He glanced down at the ‘pad again. “It remains to be seen if his axis of advance will expand or if the salient his attack created will be pinched out.”
“Perhaps we should hope that his victory is short-lived.” It was Katarina Berchtold. “While my sympathies are with the CEL…” – Berchtold’s ancestors had emigrated from old Germany – “…the greater good may be served by whatever leads to a swifter victory – for either side.”
“Perhaps, Katarina, but I am not so sure.” Vallen was speaking to Berchtold but looking at Vance. “That conclusion is dependent on the losing side accepting defeat and ceasing hostilities…instead of unloading its nuclear and biological arsenals on the prospective winner.”
“Which is precisely what I would expect them to do.” Vance’s tone was grim. He’d studied the geopolitics of Earth extensively, and the CEL was not a power likely to yield easily. Worse, the current regime was one of the most hawkish of the last century. Vance didn’t doubt for a second that they would use every weapon they had before they accepted defeat. “If the CEL is pushed against the wall, they will escalate.” He looked down the table at Berchtold. “Our best hope is for a stalemate. That is the strongest chance to keep the fighting conventional. The two sides might eventually yield to mutual exhaustion, but a Power near defeat is a dangerous loose cannon.”
Vallen nodded, followed by the rest of the council. Finally, Berchtold signaled her agreement. “I defer to your greater knowledge, Roderick. Unfortunately, it looks like Europa Federalis may be on the way to winning a quick victory.”
“That’s not very likely, Katarina.” Vallen beat Vance to the punch. He had headed up the Martian intelligence services before his protégé took over, and he knew the realities of the Earth Superpowers better than the rest of the Council. “I think the Europans will find it hard to maintain their momentum as casualties mount and supplies run low. There is a tendency in war for things to bog down.” His eyes flicked toward Vance then back to Berchtold. “The Europans may maintain an edge, but it is quite a different thing to overrun another Superpower. It is a possibility, of course, but certainly not the likeliest source of disaster.” He paused for a few seconds. “I fear we must look to the Alliance-CAC conflict for the greatest danger of catastrophic escalation.” He paused for a few seconds before continuing. “Perhaps we should shelve our discussion of the Europan-CEL conflict and discuss the situation with the Alliance and the CAC.” Vallen stared at Vance expectantly. “You mentioned some new intel?”
“Yes.” Vance’s tone left no doubt the news was bad. “The CAC and the Alliance were already at war in space, as you all know. My operatives report that the CAC navy has been ordered to find Admiral Garret and engage his fleet.” Vance spoke slowly, deliberatively.
“Did they give them a blindfold and a cigarette?” It was Katarina Berchtold again. S
he was the matriarch of one of Mars’ oldest families and a woman of immense ability. But she was the least experienced in military matters, and it was showing. She glanced around the table, noting the somber expressions both Vance and Vallen wore before she pressed on. “Do we really think whatever admiral the CAC placed in command after the purge can defeat Admiral Garret?” Garret had become a legend throughout all the Superpowers. He was regarded as the man who’d defeated the First Imperium, though Garret himself objected strongly to such singular characterizations.
“It’s not that simple, Katarina.” Vallen spoke up, sparing Vance the task. “Certainly Augustus Garret is the most capable naval officer serving any of the Powers. But there are other considerations. Garret only has part of the Alliance fleet with him. Admiral Harmon was left in command of considerable forces on the frontier to confirm no First Imperium forces could cross the Barrier.” He paused for a few seconds. “Additionally, Admiral Garret is cut off from all his bases. His fleet has not been able to refit or resupply. He has only the armaments he brought back after the final battle on the Rim. Worse, he has since engaged a portion of Gavin Stark’s fleet, which had to further deplete his limited stores.” Vallen’s eyes looked down at the table. “And there is another factor we must at least consider. He lost his best friend and long-time colleague…worse, he gave the order that trapped Admiral Compton beyond the Barrier.” He paused briefly. “We cannot know how that will affect him. Garret is a man who has always been willing to make the necessary sacrifices and take well-chosen gambles. But every man has his breaking point. We must wonder if Admiral Garret is still the man who achieved the victory against the First Imperium.”
Berchtold looked across the table at Vallen. “Are you saying that Admiral Garret might be defeated by the CAC fleet?”