by Jay Allan
It felt strange to be back in CAC space. For three years An Ying and his people had fought alongside Augustus Garret and the Alliance fleets, waging a desperate battle to turn back the deadly forces of the First Imperium. Now they were back where they had started, almost as if nothing had happened, though he doubted things would ever be quite the same. The last few years had changed them all, in ways he suspected none of them could fully understand.
An had spent all his long career fighting against the Alliance and its allies, and now he felt a bit lost, confused. Augustus Garret had proven himself not only a brilliant naval commander, but also a courageous and trustworthy ally. An was well aware of the political forces driving relations between the Superpowers, and the virtual inevitability of renewed rivalries. He wondered whether the knowledge that mankind was not alone, that there were immense dangers waiting out in space, would alter the trajectory of international relations, or if his beloved CAC navy would once again find itself facing off against Garret and his people.
His initial hope had since given way to pessimism. There was already tension between the Powers…no open war yet, but An could see that the conflict with the First Imperium had done nothing to eliminate old rivalries and suspicions.
He’d prayed for one thing…that if his navy was forced once again to go to war against the Alliance, it happen after he was gone. He didn’t want to see such a tragedy, and he vastly preferred death to sitting in his chair issuing the orders for the fleet to move against their new friends. He would give those orders if he had to…he’d served the CAC navy for 80 years, and his loyalty was absolute. He would follow whatever commands Hong Kong issued…no matter what it cost him personally.
“Admiral, six vessels have just transited via the Beta-16 warpgate.” Commander Qin had proven to be a talented aide. An fully intended to see him promoted to captain and given a good command when they returned to base. “Two Luhu-class courier vessels and four Kilo-class light transports.”
An looked down at his own screen, reviewing the same information Qin had just provided. That’s strange, he thought…I wasn’t expecting any contact yet.
“Incoming message, sir.” Qin was staring at his workstation, relaying the communique as it came in. “To Fleet Admiral An Ying, from Ambassador Lin Tao. We have been dispatched by the Committee to provide a fitting welcome for the heroes of the recent war. We will be presenting decorations to you and your senior commanders, and we bear a proclamation of thanks from the Committee, to be entered into the service records of every crew member in the fleet.”
An leaned back in his chair. It was odd, he thought, that no word had been sent ahead of this delegation. His ships had been back within the CAC’s interstellar communications network for days now. For that matter, he wondered, why not wait until the fleet was back at base?
“Thank you, Ambassador Lin.” An felt a strange discomfort, but he ignored it. Nothing like the First Imperium crisis had ever happened before, and he told himself he shouldn’t be surprised at an exaggerated response by the Committee. Ceremony had always been important in the CAC, and this time the Committee members had actually been afraid for themselves instead of simply moving chess pieces around a board. Perhaps it wasn’t surprising for them to overdo it a bit. “I look forward to greeting you.”
An tried to put his concern aside, but his doubts continued to nag. He didn’t know any ambassador named Lin Tao. He stared at the floor for a few minutes, wondering again why he was so unsettled. He hardly knew every functionary from a well-connected family the Committee might draft as an envoy.
An turned to face Commander Qin. “Projected time until docking?”
Qin leaned over his screen for a few seconds. “We are close to their entry warpgate, sir. Estimated time to match velocity and dock, 46 minutes.”
He stood up slowly. “I will be in my quarters, commander.” He turned and walked toward the door, glancing up at the chronometer. The older he got, the longer it took to wedge himself into his dress uniform.
“Is everyone clear on the plan?” Xu Wei wore the ceremonial dress of a CAC ambassador, all silks and embroidery…but beneath was a skintight suit of flexible body armor and two miniature auto-pistols strapped under his arms. His entourage, all attired as diplomatic functionaries, were outfitted the same way, as were the teams on the other five ships. Xu was part of the Black Dragon Corps, Li An’s most elite team of assassins, and he was there not to celebrate and reward old An Ying, but to execute a purge against him and his command team. Xu didn’t know what An had done…he didn’t know if the old man had done anything at all. That didn’t matter to him. C1’s director had ordered a purge, and that meant An Ying was already dead. Xu and his team were just here for the formality of stopping the old admiral’s heart from beating.
The proscription list had 47 names on it, officers currently posted on six different ships. All were expecting to receive medals and citations for their parts in the war against the First Imperium. It was better this way. A bit of deception, and the whole thing would go much more smoothly. It wasn’t Minister Li’s way to give powerful targets warning. Far too dangerous.
“Docking in two minutes.” The ship’s AI had a female voice, an interesting choice since there were few women serving on CAC warships.
Xu felt the urge to check his weapons, but he’d already inspected them twice. They were carefully situated, undetectable to anyone looking at him. It took a long time to get them that way, and he wasn’t about to dishevel everything so he could do a needless third check.
“One minute to docking.”
Xu rolled his head around on his shoulders, trying to force out the ever present kinks. He’d spent far too long in the acceleration couches, and his body was feeling it. Whatever the reasons behind these executions, Li An had ordered it done as quickly as possible, and that meant Xu and his people spent the entire trip being bloated and crushed as the ships constantly accelerated and decelerated.
“Thirty seconds to docking.”
He ran his fingers along the smooth edge of the polished wood box in his hand. The finely crafted container held the medals for the ceremonies. His team was going to execute almost four dozen officers from six different vessels. Synchronization was crucial to avoid any unnecessary resistance or disruption, and Xu’s people were equipped to maintain the deception to the very last.
The ship shuddered slightly as it docked with the massive battleship. It took a few minutes for the crews of the two vessels to check the seals and get the hatches open, and Xu used the time to get his people organized and ready. They walked through the airlock in single file, and into the massive bay of the capital ship.
Lined up on both sides of the delegation were CAC Marines, standing at rigid attention in their brown and gold full dress uniforms. At the end of the honor guard stood an old man, slightly stooped over, but still stout. He wore the white uniform of a CAC admiral, and his chest was festooned with a riotous mass of medals and ribbons. A cluster of aides and junior officers surrounded him.
Xu walked up to him and bowed his head slightly. “It is a pleasure to be aboard, Admiral An.”
The wardroom of the courier vessel Chou had been modified…hastily turned into a fitting space for the awarding of the CAC’s highest military citations. Xu’s people had greeted Admiral An and his staff aboard Kublai Khan, but the actual ceremony would take place on the diplomatic vessel…as on the other five ships of Xu’s flotilla. The last group had arrived on Chou; all of the designated personnel were present onboard.
Admiral An stood in the center of the crowd of officers, wearing an impatient expression. Medals and awards were extremely important to an officer’s career in the CAC, but An was old and at the top of the chain of command already. The last thing he wanted to put up with now was more useless pomp. Still, it would be good for the younger officers’ careers, and he was glad to see his people recognized for their valor.
The awards were set out on the table. An had seen them alr
eady. Xu had brought them aboard during his tour of Kublai Khan, giving the officers a sneak peak during the series of interminable receptions protocol demanded.
Everyone present had drinks in their hands, clustering around and speaking with each other while they waited for the ceremony to begin. Xu and several of his people had been circulating, chatting with An and some of his officers.
“I can only imagine what it feels like to engage a First Imperium taskforce.” Xu had urged An to share some war stories and, after a bit of prodding and a second drink, the old admiral was only too happy to oblige. Xu listened patiently before raising his hand slightly. “Now if you will excuse me, I believe it is time to begin.”
Xu walked to the front of the room and climbed two steps to the top of the small rostrum. He glanced over to the side, nodding almost imperceptibly as he did. A few seconds later, two hatches opened on opposite sides of the room, and fully armed security officers marched in.
“What is the meaning of this?” There was bewilderment in An’s voice…then anger. “I demand you explain this immediately, Ambassador Xu.”
“I am afraid, Admiral An, that there has been a change in plans. By order of the Chairman of the Central Committee, the 16 naval officers present are hereby charged with high treason. It is further stated that the officers so named have been tried in absentia and convicted on all counts.”
An’s face was twisted in rage. The other officers were babbling incoherently or shouting out, protesting their innocence, but An just stood, almost silent. Two words escaped his lips, a name, and he spoke it like a curse. “Li An.”
“All convicted officers are hereby stripped of rank and position…and sentenced to death.” His pretense as ambassador fell away, and he spoke in icy tones, not an ounce of empathy or pity for the victims. “Sentence to be carried out immediately.”
The agents were moving into the mass of officers, grabbing them by the shoulders, shoving them to the side of the room. Each of them was forced down to his knees, facing the wall. Some of them were silent, resigned to their fate. Others struggled and tried to wrest free of the grasp of their captors. A few broke down in sobs and begged for their lives.
An agent stood behind the first captive, placing his pistol against the back of the man’s head. Without a word, he pulled the trigger. The prisoner’s head jerked forward as his body convulsed, a spray of blood and brain splattering against the bulkhead.
The executioner pulled his arm back and stepped to the side, positioning himself behind the next target and, with equal lack of ceremony, pulled the trigger again.
It took less than five minutes to execute 15 of the 16. Admiral An stood silent in the center of the room, aware he had no chance of escape and equally unwilling to give Li An or her killers the satisfaction of seeing his fear. He knew another 31 of his officers were being killed on the other ships of Xu’s squadron, but he wouldn’t let his murderers see his despair either.
“Mr. An…” – the man who had executed the others stood silent and still…it was Xu himself speaking now – “…please kneel.” An wasn’t technically an admiral anymore, his rank having been stripped from him. He wasn’t sure if denying him a death as a naval officer was some special added spite from Li An or if it was just window dressing, designed to add an appearance of legitimacy to her purge. He couldn’t recall offending the miserable old bitch in any significant way, so he suspected it was the latter. The head of C1 planned things meticulously. He could only imagine the file she’d invented to justify this massacre.
“Mr. An…” Xu put a little pressure on the old man’s shoulder, guiding more than pushing him down.
He bent his head forward. There was no point in saying anything. C1’s trained killers were impervious to pleas for mercy. He didn’t know whether Li An found or created her reptilian servants, but he knew better than to trade his dignity for a futile attempt to gain a reprieve.
“Let’s get this over with.” He shoved back the fear and put all his strength into keeping his voice strong and defiant. He tried to hold his body rigid, but his strength failed when he felt the cold of the pistol’s barrel against his neck, and a single shiver ran down his spine. He was breathing heavily, eyes closed. Memories flooded into his mind, an odd assortment…95 years of life condensed into a few seconds. He could hear his heart pounding in his ears. It was only 2 or 3 seconds, but it seemed to drag on and on.
Then there was a loud crack, and it was over.
Chapter 17
Great Sentinel Forest
Planet Armstrong
Gamma Pavonis III
The tree was massive, a gargantuan tower a thousand years old, but the auto-cannon’s hyper-velocity rounds blasted it to sawdust in an instant. A huge section simply ceased to exist, and the 100 meters above came crashing down, slamming into the ground with an earsplitting crash.
The giant trees produced some of the most sought after hardwood in all of the Alliance, finer than Earth’s most exquisite walnuts and African Blackwoods…even before those species had been driven to near extinction by pollution, war, and mismanagement.
Armstrong’s great forest was one of the planet’s most treasured resources, strictly managed and protected…but now its western half was a battlefield, and the priceless hardwoods were ravaged by the scourge of war. Huge swaths of the deep forest were on fire, the conflagration spreading rapidly in the high winds. On the ground, Marines battled the invaders, the two sides spread out in opposing skirmish lines.
“More reports coming in, sir. Captain Santi’s people are retreating.” Corvus’ tone was sharp. He’d only been halfway through his course at the Academy when Colonel Storm picked him as his aide. The duty came with an immediate commission to lieutenant’s rank…and a workload the likes of which he’d never imagined.
Storm was standing right next to Corvus, looking out at the trees in front of the command post. He nodded, but he didn’t say anything, just continuing to stare off into the blackness of the forest.
Colonel Eliot Storm was one of the next generation heroes of the Corps, a protégé of Cain’s, just as Erik and Darius Jax had been of Holm. He’d served on the steppes of Sandoval, supporting Isaac Merrick’s tank corps. Both the armored battalions and the Marines suffered massive losses in their death struggle with the First Imperium, but they were instrumental in achieving Cain’s victory there, and turning the enemy assault back.
Corvus had been there too, a sergeant who ended up in command of a company. His people had been cut off for six hours, surrounded and under relentless attack. By the time the relieving forces broke through, the company was down to Corvus and two other survivors, the three of them manning their own scavenged auto-cannons and fighting like wild men.
After the battle, Storm went with Cain’s army to the Rim, but Corvus was sent to the Academy instead. He’d begged to go on the campaign, but Storm and Cain held firm. The Corps was going to need trained officers badly, and Corvus was an ideal candidate to become part of that new cadre.
“Major Danton’s 1st Battalion is holding, but he reports heavy losses.” Corvus looked up from his portable workstation toward Storm. “He requests permission to commit the 2nd Battalion.”
Storm remained silent for another moment. Danton’s not a nervous officer, he thought…if he’s asking to commit more strength his situation is probably pretty damned bad. “Permission denied,” Storm finally croaked.
Corvus hesitated. “Sir…”
“Permission denied, lieutenant.” Storm’s tone was sharp…not angry, but not inviting additional discussion either.
“Yes, sir.” Corvus turned to his com unit and relayed Storm’s order. He paused for a few seconds. “What about Captain Santi, sir? His forces are falling back all across the line.”
Storm let out a long exhale, so hard it momentarily fogged up the inside of his visor. “Order the 2nd Training Battalion forward.” Storm’s voice was halting, somber. The training battalions had been formed from the recruits at Camp Ba
silone who hadn’t received powered armor yet. They were partially trained and completely ill-equipped for a battlefield full of powered infantry formations. Sending them forward, he thought, is no better than murder. But he needed every bit of strength he could find. He saw Corvus hesitating again. “You heard me, lieutenant.”
“Yes, sir.”
I don’t like it either, Storm thought, but I just can’t commit any more front line units this early…we need to buy some time. We’re going to need those reserves…I know it. “This game has just begun, Jeff.” He spoke to his aide, his voice conciliatory, understanding. He empathized with Corvus’ discomfort. It would be a miracle if 20% of those men and women came back…but that’s where he needed them. “Now give the order.”
“Colonel Storm’s forces are being pushed back through Sentinel Forest, sir.” Captain Claren had been Cain’s aide throughout the Sigma 4 campaign. He had a good sense of what details the C in C wanted, and he usually managed to report them before Cain asked. “They’re giving ground, but slowly.”
Cain nodded. “Thank you, captain.” He leaned back and sighed softly. He was going to have to reinforce Storm. The forest was massive, and he was counting on it holding up the enemy advance. If they got through the Sentinel, they’d be out on the open plains, less than 50 klicks from Astria. The terrain in the Sentinel was rugged for a major axis of advance, and he hadn’t expected this big a push there. The enemy had surprised him, and he cursed himself for his blindness.
He looked down at the large ’pad on the table, checking Storm’s unit statuses. He shook his head slowly as he read. Storm had been feeding his reserves in slowly, and he still had a reaction force uncommitted. Cain sighed softly. Storm had used his unarmored training battalion to support his powered infantry forces while he kept stronger units in reserve. Ill equipped for the front lines, the fresh troops fought bravely. They did manage to disrupt the advancing enemy formations, but at an enormous cost. The shattered force was hastily retreating, leaving at least half their number on the field.