by Jay Allan
Despite her own agony she wanted to go to Cain, to comfort him somehow. She, more than anyone here, knew just how badly he was wounded, the hurt he was feeling…pain he would keep to himself until his time came to join his fallen commander. She wanted to ease his suffering, but she just stood rigidly, looking out over the ceremony in stony silence. There was nothing to do; she knew that. Part of loving Erik Cain was accepting the immovable rigidity of the man.
The Marine guard stood unmoving, at rigid attention, polished rifles held perfectly aloft. This was no normal detachment, but an assemblage of veteran non-coms from Holm’s many battles. Gray-haired and grim faced, many of these warriors had fought under Holm since the early days of the Third Frontier War, following him unquestioningly wherever the bugle sounded. They were the few, the last survivors of a dying breed now almost lost. They were among the toughest and strongest subjects the human race had ever produced, but now they were broken inside, wracked by a grief they could hardly contain.
Ali Khaled stood off to the side along with Farooq. They had come to pay their respects to the great leader, but they took their place at the periphery, not wishing to upset or offend the Marines. Both Caliphate leaders had tremendous respect for Holm, but they were aware that they had spent most of their lives as his enemy…as the enemy of all those gathered here, and they had elected to pay their respects quietly and without fanfare.
Cain stepped forward, leaning on his cane and willing every shred of strength remaining within him to make the walk to the dais. Sarah had treated his wound, but he still moved slowly, painfully. Catherine Gilson had offered to give the eulogy, to spare Erik the weight of the task. The two had inherited the Corps from Holm, and both were heartbroken by his loss. But Gilson knew Erik’s agony was something even beyond her own, and she couldn’t imagine what it would cost him to mount that podium and shoulder this burden. But Cain had said no. He owed this to Holm, he and he alone. He was the son to the man with no family, who’d given his life to the Corps, just as the fallen general had been a father to Cain. Erik would not let himself fail in this final duty. That would be unthinkable.
He stood behind the podium, silent, looking out over the assembled multitudes. He felt the yawning pit inside him, and for a moment he couldn’t bring the words. Bidding farewell to friends was part of a Marine’s life; Cain knew that well enough. It would have been difficult under any circumstances to say goodbye to Holm, but this was worse even than any scenario Cain had imagined. The valiant general hadn’t died leading a heroic attack or standing firm in the breach, holding back the enemy. He’d been murdered, shot down in the open after the battle had been won. He’d died saving Cain from an assassin’s bullet. Killed by a sociopath so evil, even Cain’s cold-blooded mind failed utterly to comprehend his motivations.
He reached down, summoned all that remained of the strength that had sustained him through the horrific battles he had fought. His hands gripped the podium, and he stared out at the silent masses. Finally, slowly, he forced the words from his quivering lips.
“We are here to bid farewell to a great man, a man to whom no poor words I can muster will do justice. Elias Garrison Holm was more than a general, more than a Commandant. He was an example for all of us, the perfect warrior…noble, honorable, a father to every Marine.” Cain’s voice was cracking, struggling, but he pressed on. “He saved the Corps from treachery and destruction, and with his own force of will he pulled us from the brink, led us through our darkest hour, gave us back our pride, our dignity…reminded us that we are Marines…and what that truly means.”
His fingers tightened on the edges of the podium, but he continued his speech. His voice was halting…but he went on. “He was a Marine, and a Marine he shall always be. Wherever we go into battle, wherever our successors and those Marines who come after us carry the flag, he will be there. As long as the Corps endures, General Elias Holm will never be truly gone.”
Cain paused, staring out at the crowd. There was silence over the field, save for the sounds of men and women sobbing softly. Tears streamed down Cain’s cheeks as he stood there, drawing on what little strength remained to him.
“General Holm was a Marine’s Marine, from the day the Corps adopted him as a lost teenager, as it did so many of us, until the moment he fell…and he remains such, down whatever paths he now treads.” Cain sucked in a deep breath of air, and forced himself to go on. “Farewell, General Holm, Commandant, mentor…friend.” He forced himself to stare out again, panning his eyes across the multitudes. “A grateful Corps offers you its heartfelt thanks…its everlasting gratitude and admiration. Rest, General…rest in the peace you have so profoundly earned.”
Cain bolted to rigid attention and snapped his hand to his forehead in a salute as crisp and flawless as the one he’d offered moments before. Despite his rank and years of service, Cain’s salutes had always been notoriously poor. But not today.
Every man and woman present answered Cain’s salute and held it, as he did, while a single bugle sounded the mournful notes of taps. Finally, he let his hand drop to his side and walked silently from the podium, to the platform where Holm’s coffin lay, draped in the flag of the Alliance. He stood silently, hundreds of eyes upon him, then he pulled the sword from his side and lay it on top of the casket. It was the blade he’d been given at his graduation from the Academy so many years before. Now it was a tribute to his lost friend.
Cain turned and walked slowly from the field. He could feel a change inside with each step. The grief was still there, as he knew it would always be. But it was changing, becoming harder, colder. Erik Cain was a fearless warrior, a relentless force in battle. But this was something different, something new. It was as frigid as space itself. There was no roiling anger, no quivering rage that would quickly burn out. It was a silent, frozen hatred in his heart so strong it scared even him.
It was early…very early. The first tentative rays of light were moving across the horizon, and in the dawn haze a group of Marines, senior officers all, were gathered atop a small hill outside the war torn city of Astria. They’d come together the day before to bid farewell to a friend, a leader whose legend, they knew, would never truly die. Each of them was touched in his own way by the loss of a man who’d been a mentor to them all, and none of them would ever be the same after his loss.
They’d been up all night, drinking to Holm’s memory and telling stories – mostly true - of past battles, just as they all knew he would have wanted. They could almost feel him watching them, and if a tale grew a bit in drama, if an enemy became more numerous or a situation more dire in the retelling, all were sure Elias Holm would have been the first to roar with laughter and slap the back of the storyteller.
Last night had been for reminiscing, for the past. Today they were met for another reason, one looking forward and not back. They were here to plan their next moves in the war…and to plot their vengeance.
“Gavin Stark will pay for what he’s done. There isn’t a man or woman in the Corps who will rest until he has…who wouldn’t give their lives to destroy him.” Catherine Gilson wore a freshly-pressed uniform, looking surprisingly sharp and alert for someone they all knew had been toasting Holm until only a few hours before. “But we must win the war too. Stark is fighting a battle for dominance over mankind…and that struggle isn’t over. We’ve won a few fights, but his forces are entrenched throughout occupied space.” She paused and panned her eyes across the small cluster of officers. “We must never forget…we could still lose this war. Indeed, we are still at an extreme disadvantage. And it could still lead to Armageddon on Earth.”
Everyone nodded in somber agreement…everyone save Erik Cain. He stood stone-still, staring straight at Gilson, but he not really seeing her. His thoughts were elsewhere, and they were dark. Cain didn’t care about fighting Stark’s manufactured soldiers, and he didn’t give a shit whether Earth plunged deeper into its last war. He’d spent a lifetime fighting…watching good men and women die. He’d t
old himself they were lost for a good cause, that mankind was worth saving. The fight against the First Imperium, watching the forces of humanity unite and fight together in a common cause had helped him believe that…for a time. But now that faith was gone. The dead from the First Imperium War hadn’t even been buried before the Powers were fighting again…and a psychopath like Gavin Stark had managed to work himself a hair’s breadth from total domination. Cain didn’t believe in anything anymore. Nothing but vengeance.
The discussion continued, but he heard none of it. He was thinking about Gavin Stark, about where their hateful enemy had fled to continue his struggle. He felt hatred coursing through his veins, but also caution. Stark was one of the evilest creatures ever produced by Earth, but he was also one of the most dangerous. Unfocused anger wasn’t going to destroy him. If Cain let uncontrolled rage dictate his actions he would hand Stark the final victory. Cain had to be as dark, as focused…as sociopathic as his enemy. To destroy Stark, Erik Cain would shed the last shreds of his own humanity…he would become like his enemy.
“Erik?” A familiar voice was calling to him. “Erik?” Louder.
“Yes?” The voice had been Gilson’s. Cain saw her now, his consciousness drifting sluggishly back to the current time and place.
“Are we agreed then?” She was looking into his eyes, slowly realizing that he hadn’t heard a word she’d said. “We defeat the rest of the Shadow Legions and stabilize the situation on Earth first. Then we hunt down Gavin Stark.” The group was silent, a few of them nodding as they stared at Cain.
He returned Gilson’s stare, but he didn’t answer.
“Erik, I know how you feel, but duty is first.” Her voice was urgent, tense. “No one would have believed that more than General Holm.” Her eyes bored into his. “You know that.”
Cain remained silent for a few more seconds. When he spoke his voice was soft, not the raging tirade they all expected. “And what did that get him, Cate? What has it gotten any of the thousands who’ve died?”
Gilson didn’t answer; she just stood opposite Cain and held his gaze. She couldn’t order him to follow the consensus…the two had received their 4th stars simultaneously, General Holm’s way of making them equals. It made sense as long as he’d been alive to assume overall command, but now it left the succession in doubt. Finally, she said, “Erik, we have to win the war first. You’re hurting now, but you know what we have to do.”
“You do it, Cate. The Corps is yours.” There was a hollowness in his voice…as if he were already elsewhere. “You take command. You can lead the Marines every bit as well as I can.” He reached up to his shoulder, pulling the four small platinum stars off his jacket. He took her hand and placed the insignia on her palm. “I can’t wear these where I am going.” Then he turned and started to walk away.
“Erik!”
He stopped and glanced back. “You command the Corps, Cate.” He stared at her for a few seconds. “You take care of our Marines.” He paused, turning away and taking another step. “And I’ll take care of Gavin Stark.”
Cain walked silently down the grassy knoll, the peaceful spot on the Academy grounds where Elias Holm would rest for eternity, keeping watch on his beloved Corps. Sarah walked wordlessly beside him. She knew he needed to be left alone, that nothing she could say would help him. She wasn’t even sure she had any comfort left to offer. Sarah had long been the more optimistic of the two, the lighter counterpart to the darkness that had always been part of Cain’s soul. But now her own thoughts were just as grim. Holm had been as dear to her as anyone in the Corps, and his loss, coming so soon after the tragedy with Alex, was more than she could bear. She was lost and confused, and felt as if she had nothing left to give anyone.
She knew she couldn’t do anything to ease Erik’s burden, even if she’d had the strength to try. He had to tread a dark path, one she knew would take him away from her…one that might finally claim him. She tried not to think about that, though. Losing Erik was more then she could imagine. But now his hand held hers with a firmness that told her all she needed to know about what she meant to him. They didn’t need words between them, these two, and she silently drew from him the strength she needed to go on, to deal with her own heartbreak and despair.
Cain stopped and turned back, taking one last look at the small, marble statue that marked Elias Holm’s grave. Goodbye, sir…Elias, he thought…you were the best man I ever knew.
Erik Cain didn’t know how he would learn to live with the grief…or where he would dig up the strength to see this war through to a victorious conclusion. But he knew one thing with utter certainty. He would find Gavin Stark…wherever he ran, down whatever rathole the miserable coward tried to hide. He would do whatever was necessary, without hesitation, without remorse. He would follow Stark to the ends of the universe if needs be, but he’d never cease, never slow in his hunt. He would have vengeance for Holm, and no force in the universe would stop him. He would leave Earth in her ashes if that’s what it took, destroy a dozen worlds, lose whatever scraps were left of his soul to the fires of hell…but Stark would not escape his wrath.
His hands were clenched in trembling fists, hatred consuming him with each step. He would find Gavin Stark…and he would kill him. Whatever the cost. Whatever the cost.
Coming Summer 2014:
The Farthest Stars
Book I of the new series…Crimson Worlds: Refugees
Terrence Compton and half of humanity’s Grand Fleet are trapped, cut off from home and relentlessly pursued by the forces of the First Imperium. Crimson Worlds: Refugees is a new series, continuing Compton’s story after the end of To Hell’s Heart.
Coming Autumn 2014:
Crimson Worlds IX: The Fall
The stunning conclusion to the original Crimson Worlds series
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Also By Jay Allan
Tombstone (A Crimson Worlds Prequel)
Bitter Glory (A Crimson Worlds Prequel)
The Gates of Hell (A Crimson Worlds Prequel)
War Stories (All 3 Crimson Worlds Prequels)
Marines (Crimson Worlds I)
The Cost of Victory (Crimson Worlds II)
A Little Rebellion (Crimson Worlds III)
The First Imperium (Crimson Worlds IV)
The Line Must Hold (Crimson Worlds V)
To Hell’s Heart (Crimson Worlds VI)
The Shadow Legions (Crimson Worlds VII)
Gehenna Dawn (Portal Worlds I)
The Dragon's Banner (Pendragon Chronicles I)
Upcoming
The Ten Thousand
(Portal WorIds II)
June 2014
The Farthest Stars
(Crimson Worlds: Refugees)
August 2014
The Fall
(Crimson Worlds IX)
October 2014
Dragon Rising
(The Last War: Volume I)
November 2014