by Jay Allan
He got up and walked through the door and into the open area between the small portable shelters. Captain Claren was coming out of the other building, on his way to report the com failure. Cain motioned for him to open his visor.
A few seconds later, the reflective hyper-glass visor pulled back, and Claren shouted to Cain. “What’s happening, sir? I can’t raise anyone on the com.”
“Somebody’s jamming us.” Cain didn’t know what was going on either, but none of the options he could conceive were good. “It’s got to be an attack coming in. Tell Evans and Barts we’re pulling out. We can’t get a fucking thing done with no com.”
“Yes, General.” Claren spun around…then all hell broke loose.
Cobra sat still, silent. It was motion that usually gave away an assassin who was this close to the target. People didn’t think, didn’t realize how easily a little movement could undo everything the best camo could achieve. It was patience more than anything that separated the great killers from the others. Cobra had stalked targets for months, even years, waiting for that one moment when the victim was exposed. Erik Cain had been his most daunting assignment…but now the great general was vulnerable, in a crumbling war zone with just a few aides around him. It was time.
His rifle was resting on a large root that branched out from the giant tree. He was crouched in firing position, his eye looking through the weapon’s scope. He had a good view of the target area and a perfect line of sight. Now he just needed Cain to show himself. One shot was all it would take. Not even Cain’s state of the art armor would stop a shot from this rifle. And Cobra never missed.
He’d just activated the jammer. That would shake things up in the camp. He didn’t need much…just a second or two with Cain out in the open. There were two large shelters…Cain had to be in one of them. He waited…watching.
Cobra was as meticulous and cold-blooded as any killer who served Alliance Intelligence, a natural sociopath whose inborn tendencies were exploited and encouraged under Gavin Stark’s tutelage. But even he felt a tightness in his gut, a warmth around his neck. Erik Cain was one of the Marine Corps’ most accomplished killers, a man who had taken down hundreds of enemies himself…and led forces who had killed tens of thousands. His legend was one of invulnerability, of almost superhuman ability. Even Alliance Intelligence’s top killer couldn’t help but feel awed.
He was watching…silently, intently. He saw the door slide open in one of the shelters…and almost simultaneously on the other as well. A figure stepped out of each, both clad in Marine armor. They walked toward each other.
Fuck, he thought…they look identical. His mind raced, trying to choose a target. He could take them both down, but the second target would have a brief warning, a chance to run, to duck for cover. He was almost sure he could take them both out, but there was a small doubt. And trying to kill Erik Cain and leaving him alive seemed like a really bad idea.
He flipped a coin in his head, moving the sight to the figure on the left. “Time to die, General,” he muttered softly as he squeezed the trigger.
Cain stood watching as Claren turned to carry out his orders. The captain had proven to be the best assistant he’d ever had. Claren was smart, efficient, fearless…and he’d mastered the tricky art of handling Erik Cain. Cain knew he wasn’t easy to work closely with, and he appreciated the synergy he had with Claren. The two worked seamlessly together, and that benefitted the entire army. Cain would have promoted the captain long before, but he didn’t want to lose him…not in the middle of a situation like this. He felt guilty about not giving Claren the rewards his service had earned, but he promised himself he’d make it up to the captain. If they both made it off Armstrong, Cain had already decided he was going to bump the erstwhile aide right to colonel and give him his own regiment. He’d need General Holm’s approval for that, but he didn’t think that would be a problem.
But now Cain was thinking about the current situation, not the things he would do if he made it through the battle. He was trying to make sense of what was happening and, no matter how he figured, it just didn’t add up. It took a lot of energy to jam Marine coms over a wide area. A lot…the kind of energy fusion plants put out. There was no way the invaders could be jamming his HQ this effectively. Carlson’s people were still in the field at least 3 klicks away. Could there be another force onplanet, one much closer to his HQ? Did the enemy get around Carlson’s flank? Unless it was a very small area being targeted. But that would mean…
Cain was still looking right at Claren when the aide’s head exploded into a cloud of red mist. His blood went cold with horror. Decades of combat experience shoved the emotions to the recesses of his brain, but he was still sick, nauseous. He felt a rush, no, a double rush of adrenalin – his AI, Hector, injecting a supplement to his body’s own blast.
Claren was dead. He knew it immediately; he didn’t have to check. But there was no time for grief now. His muscles tightened; his body tensed. He knew he would live or die in the next few seconds.
The world was moving in slow motion as he reacted rapidly, effectively. The captain’s body was still falling when Cain’s battlefield instincts took over. He shifted his weight, moving his head down, diving for the cover of the shelter behind him.
Alex prowled through the brush, hiding behind the massive trees whenever possible. She knew she was running out of time, but she needed to stay hidden. Her quarry was better equipped than she was. If she gave herself away, he’d just turn his attention to her. She was a gifted killer too, but she couldn’t match her adversary’s weapons and technology. He could take her down before she got close enough to fight back. Unless she remained hidden.
She’d originally set out to kill Cain herself, but now she was determined to save him. Alex Linden had been eleven years old when her parents were murdered by government thugs. She’d escaped by fleeing into the crumbling ghettoes and, later, into the semi-abandoned suburbs and countryside. Even now, she didn’t like to remember some of the things she’d done to survive, the horrors she’d endured. By the time she ended up at Alliance Intelligence, she was beyond angry, beyond bitter…just the sort of promising young psychopath Gavin Stark’s recruiters salivated over. She cursed the world and everyone in it, and she did whatever she had to do to get her job done. Emotionlessly and utterly without pity. She rose rapidly through the ranks, leaving a trail of efficiently dispatched victims behind her.
Then she found out her sister Sarah was still alive. She’d hated her older sibling for years, blaming her for everything that had happened to the family. That hate had served a purpose over the years, channeling the horrors she couldn’t face, giving her a focus for her rage. A dead sister blamed for all the ills that had befallen her was a useful psychological device. A live one who awakened all kinds of suppressed emotions and memories was far more complex and confusing.
Alex Linden, Alliance Intelligence’s stone cold killer, was buried under a deluge of emotions, memories of a happy eleven year old with a close and loving family clashing with recollections of decades of murder and remorseless scheming. She had struggled enormously with it, descending into drug addiction and despondency before pulling herself back from the brink.
Now, suddenly, she had clarity. She had no delusions about the things she had done, and she wasn’t going to beg anyone’s forgiveness. Atonement wasn’t her goal. What she had done, she had done. But she was going to save Cain. She was going to do it for Sarah, for the sister she’d wrongfully hated for so many years.
She slipped around the tree and moved slowly to the next, carefully scanning the thinning woods ahead. Then she froze. She caught a hint of movement, maybe 200 meters from where she stood. She stared, letting her eyes adapt…scanning every millimeter. Was it him?
She slowly pulled her own rifle off her shoulder, creeping forward as she did. She took each step with care. One small twig, one pile of dried leaves could give her away. She needed to get closer.
One hundred fifty meters
, one hundred twenty-five. She paused, taking a deep breath, holding the rifle in front of her as she carefully continued ahead. One hundred meters. She stopped again, scanning the area. She was about to step forward when she heard a loud crack.
A cold feeling swept through her body. She lunged forward, running as fast as she could, bringing the rifle to a firing position as she did. She started shooting, aiming as well as she could at a full run.
She couldn’t hear if her target had fired again over the noise of her own rifle blasting away on full auto. She saw the target move, turning toward her. He raised the rifle in her direction. She pivoted, zigzagging as she ran toward the assassin, still firing.
She felt the pain…a bullet grazing the top of her shoulder. Nothing serious, she told herself as kept running forward. She was almost there…only a few more meters. The assassin was just ahead, his eyes focused on hers. His shirt was bloody…she’d hit him at least once. She lunged forward, reaching around and grabbing the knife hanging from her belt. It was time to finish this.
The hovercraft zipped along just above the ground, racing to the north. The army didn’t have many vehicles left, and the few it did have had been assigned to assist with the relocation of the hospital. This one had been scheduled to move south with supplies when Sarah got Campbell’s message.
She’d run outside and ordered the supplies thrown out of the transport. There were no armored Marines nearby, but she grabbed half a dozen of the walking wounded and climbed aboard. She ordered the pilot to redline the engines, and the craft raced toward Cain’s headquarters.
She spent the few minutes of the trip on the com, desperately trying to reach Cain. Nothing…all she got was static. She tried to get Claren too, but it was the same. No response at all, just heavy interference. She tested the hovercraft’s com, and it worked perfectly. Whatever was wrong, it was on Erik’s end.
She struggled to hold back the wave of nausea that almost overcame her. How could she have been so blind? She hadn’t been able to spend a lot of time with Alex before the First Imperium War tore her away from the reunion with her long-lost sibling. She knew her sister had some troubles…a past she didn’t want to discuss. But the truth was more than Sarah could bear. Alex was one of Gavin Stark’s murderers? It was almost more than she could grasp, and it made her feel sick.
Oh my God, Erik, she thought…I can’t lose you, not like this. She reached to her waist, feeling around for the sidearm Erik had insisted all rear-area personnel wear. I’m coming, Erik. I’m coming.
The projectile blasted through the air at five times the speed of sound. It had been aimed at Cain’s head, but one of Alex’s rounds hit the shooter just as he was firing. It wasn’t enough to send the round completely off-target, but the shot hit Cain’s shoulder instead of his head. It tore through his armor, ripping through the lean muscle and bursting out the other side.
Cain felt the pain and the kinetic impact, sending his body spiraling down to the ground. There was a rush of relief, even while he was still falling…Hector pumping painkillers into his bloodstream. He hit the ground hard, felt the wind knocked from him. He rolled the instant he fell, reaching around with his good arm, pulling his assault rifle from its harness. Erik Cain was a veteran’s veteran. He ignored the wound in his arm and prepared to fight off whatever enemy had fired at him.
He flipped over onto his belly and crawled behind a large crate, staring toward the forest. He wasn’t sure exactly where the shots had come from, but he had a general idea.
There was nothing. No more shots, no one visible. Wait, he thought. He saw a figure stumbling forward. He pulled up his rifle and took aim, but something held him back. It was a woman, and she was clearly wounded. He could see blood on her now, and she was stumbling, struggling to stay on her feet.
“Don’t shoot…I’m here to help you.” She had her hands in the air, showing him she had no weapon drawn. He was suspicious, but he held his fire. She looked familiar, but he couldn’t place her at first. She resembled Sarah…no, not just a resemblance…she was almost the image of his lover. Then he remembered…Carson’s World…the last battle of the Third Frontier War. He’d seen her there…the spitting image of Sarah.
“I’m Sarah Linden’s sister, General Cain,” Alex shouted, just as he was trying to figure it out. “I killed your assassin. I want to help.” She ran the rest of the way toward Cain, her clothes soaked in blood. Some of it was hers, but most was Cobra’s. She’d hit the assassin with two rounds from her assault rifle and then finished the job with her knife. The two had struggled mightily until Alex managed to shove the blade into her adversary’s neck. He fell back, choking on his own blood and she finished him off, driving the knife deep into his chest. She’d neutralized the enemy…but he’d gotten two shots off. Her first thought was to get to Cain…to see if Cobra’s aim had been true. She felt a wave of relief when she saw him moving.
“I’m relieved you’re still alive, General. The man sent to kill you rarely misses.” She heard a noise to the south, and her head snapped around. It was a long sleek craft, some kind of transport vessel. She reached for her pistol, unsure if these were friends or enemies arriving…
The hovercraft’s hatch opened and Sarah leapt to the ground, followed by her six Marines. She stood there for an instant, the wind taking her hair and blowing it back in a confused tangle. She looked across the 50 meters of flat ground, and her blood ran cold. There she was…her sister Alex, crouched over the fallen form of an armored Marine. There was a gun in her hand.
“NO!” she screamed, her arm reaching down for the pistol at her side. “Get away from him.” There was anger in her voice, uncontrollable rage. She ran toward Alex, pulling the gun up in front of her as she did.
Alex looked up, seeing her sister running toward her. “Sarah…” Her eyes caught the gun in Sarah’s hand. “No, Sarah…”
The first shot took her in the chest. She fell to her knees, wide eyes looking right at Sarah as the second hit her neck.
“Sarah, NO!” The voice was familiar, but it took a second to work its way through her rage, her focused fury. It was Erik. He was alive. But why was he shouting no?
“NO!” he screamed again. “It wasn’t her. She saved me, Sarah. I’m OK.” His voice was weak, but he put every bit of strength he had into his scream.
Sarah stopped, looking down in front of her in horror. Erik was lying on his back. He had a nasty-looking wound on his shoulder, but she didn’t see anything else. Alex had fallen on top of him. She was lying face down across the legs of his armor.
My God, she thought, what have I done? She ran over and turned Alex onto her back next to Cain.
“Stark sent an assassin, Sarah…this woman saved me.”
Sarah felt the tears welling up in her eyes, the awful realization of what she had done. Her instincts took over, decades of experience as a battlefield surgeon directing her every move. She leaned over Alex, tearing open her shirt, surveying the wound. There was blood everywhere.
Her hands moved rapidly. She tore off a section of Alex’s shirt, wadding up the material and pushing hard on the wound, trying to slow the bleeding. She knew it was hopeless, but she couldn’t bring herself to stop. She had to save Alex. She just had to.
She felt something against her arm. She looked down, seeing Alex’s hand reaching up to her. Sarah was still leaning forward, pressing hard on the makeshift bandage, but Alex was slowly shaking her head.
“It’s…OK…Sarah.” Her voice was weak…it took an enormous effort to speak, and there were gurgling sounds when she did. Her neck wound was bleeding too, and she was struggling to breathe.
“I’m so sorry, Alex. My God, I’m so sorry.” Sarah was leaning on the wound with all her weight, but the shirt was soaked in blood. There were tears streaming down her face. “You’ll be OK.”
“No…” – she grabbed onto Sarah’s arm and squeezed gently – “…it’s…over…Sarah…”
“No,” Sarah yelled, “No…”
“Sarah…I…am…sorry.”
Sarah looked at her stricken sister. Her face was soaked with tears. She’d shot her sister…for no reason. And Alex was apologizing to her?
“I…did…terrible…things…Sarah.” She spasmed hard, spitting blood all over herself. She coughed, struggling to speak. “I…hated…you…for…so…many…years.” Her eyes glistened with tears as she looked up at Sarah. “I…saved…him…” She sucked in a deep breath, coughing and trying to clear her throat. “I…saved…him…for…you. Be…happy…Sarah…I…love…you…sister.”
“I love you too, Alex.” Sarah grabbed onto her sister, holding her tightly. “I love you too. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.” She was sobbing uncontrollably. She felt Alex draw a last deep breath and then fall back, lifeless.
Sarah held onto her sister’s body, still sobbing and repeating, “I’m so sorry…”
Chapter 13
Front Line – Europa Federalis-CEL Conflict
25 Kilometers West of Stuttgart
Baden-Wurttemberg Sector – Central European League
Earth – Sol III
Hans Werner poked his head out of the massive Leopard Z-9a command tank. He had a full scanner suite inside the armored protection of the behemoth vehicle, but sometimes nothing replaced a good old fashioned look around.
The CEL army was a week into its first war in a century, and they’d been driven back by the invading Europan forces. The army of the German-dominated CEL had long considered itself more than a match for its enemies, but that confidence had been seriously shaken by the ferocity of the Europan attack. The CEL had repeatedly denied any involvement in the nuclear destruction of Marseilles, but the incident proved to be a rallying cry for the Europan forces nevertheless.