by Jay Allan
He saw Grayson glance over a few seconds later, checking to make sure he was secure. Then, the captain issued a series of commands, and Eagle Fourteen shook abruptly. Elias felt the pressure of acceleration slam into him, enough to have knocked him into the wall if he’d still been standing in the middle of the bridge, as he had been a moment earlier.
“I want all weapon stations ready, Commander.” Grayson was coolly snapping off orders to his officers. “And I want the reactors ready for full power on my command.”
Elias couldn’t help but be impressed at the smooth efficiency of the crew—of all the Black Eagles he’d seen and worked with over the past two years. He’d been on Eagle Fourteen for almost six months now, and it still struck him every time. He’d seen the Atlantian patrol ships, watched their crews in action. He’d considered them highly professional, at least at the time, but he had to admit, next to the Eagles, they looked like children playing. His resentments against Darius had long prevented him from recognizing his brother’s incredible charisma, his almost hypnotic ability to draw extremely capable people to his service, and to create a virtually unshakable bond of loyalty between them. That, and the fact that his twin was an almost unparalleled military genius. Their father was one of the most celebrated warriors in Occupied Space, the victor of countless desperate battles, but Elias had come to realize that Darius had taken such talents to a new level.
His mind drifted back to thoughts he’d had when Eagle Fourteen had first entered the system. Where were the Atlantians? Why weren’t their patrol ships responding? Atlantia didn’t have all that much of a navy, but it had more than enough force to guard its own system. Where were they?
He’d come to Atlantia to investigate—no, he admitted to himself, he’d come to spy. He was concerned about his home world’s slide into oppressive government, and the data Eagle Fourteen had managed to collect was not at all encouraging. Still, it didn’t explain why the patrol wasn’t monitoring the warp gates, and intervening in whatever was happening. Even a statist regime would defend its close in trade routes…more aggressively, if anything, than a republican government.
“Colonel…”
Grayson’s voice pulled Elias from his thoughts. “Yes, Captain?”
“We will be in close scanner range in seven minutes.” A short pause. “I suggest you consider what actions we might take once we have identified the combatants. If we engage, we will be detectable, probably to the system’s scanners as well as whatever ships are in the vicinity.” He hesitated again. “If these are Black Flag raiders, you will have to decide if we are to intervene…or preserve our cloak.”
Elias felt his throat tighten. If these were pirates attacking civilian shipping, the idea of sitting and watching seemed anathema to him. But he was there to collect data, and if the Atlantian scanners picked up Eagle Fourteen, well, that would be the end of that…
“I will consider it, Captain.” Elias almost wished Darius hadn’t placed him in command. It would be far easier to sit in his chair and watch as Troy Grayson made such decisions. He didn’t know what the veteran officer would do, but he was damned sure Grayson would be a lot faster about making that choice. “Bring us in,” he said after a brief pause. “Let’s see what we’re dealing with here.”
Chapter 2
“The Nest” – Black Eagles Base
Second Moon of Eos, Eta Cassiopeiae VII
Earthdate: 2321 AD (36 Years After the Fall)
The pugil stick whipped through the air swiftly, Erik Cain’s eyes catching only a hazy blur of its movement. But that was enough—just—and he dropped to one knee, swinging his body to the side, barely avoiding the heavy blow. He brought his own weapon around as he dodged, keeping it low, aiming for his opponent’s knees. It was a targeted attack, delivered almost perfectly…but his adversary was too fast, and the strike was deftly parried.
Cain leapt back up to his feet, feeling a rush of strength as he did, his new legs fully conditioned, feeling as natural as though they’d been with him his whole life, rather than regrown barely a year before…along with a good portion of the rest of his body. It had been a little over two years since he’d been rescued from his prison on Eldaron, from a fifteen-year ordeal that had almost broken him beyond salvation. He’d doubted his ability to come back, to become again the man he had been—indeed, for many months after the stunning rescue that had freed him, he’d despaired of reaching a true recovery. But he’d always been a stubborn man, loath to give up on anything, and his family and friends had helped him through it all. It was their support more than anything that had gotten him to where he was.
More than anything, save one thing perhaps. He was happy to lavish gratitude and appreciation on those closest to him, to bask in the warmth of their presence and credit them with his recovery. But there was something darker at work, too, as there so often had been in his greatest achievements. Erik had a score to settle, an enemy still out there, one responsible for all that had happened to him, for taking him away from his family for so long. For years of torment he could barely think about, much less ever share with anyone in any detail. And Erik Cain repaid those kinds of debts. Always.
He watched his opponent carefully, good advice in any fight, but absolutely crucial when facing perhaps the deadliest adversary in all human occupied space. The man on the other side of the practice ring, eyeing him with an intensity like none he’d ever seen before, was feared by billions, his name spoken as a curse on countless worlds, a label that came close to home for the old Marine. Cain had come to realize Darius’s notoriety fully in the two years since he’d been freed, to understand the reputation and its origins, and it had gnawed at him. He understood it, yet he resented it as well, saw the aspects of it that were justified…and the myriad ways in which it was unfair.
Cain had many reasons for his feelings, for the conclusions he’d drawn from his recent education on the events of the last fifteen years—an understanding of war, one of conflicts between worlds and nations, the perspective of a career fighting man—but one stood out like a beacon. His sparring partner, the one who instilled such terror in so many, was not only the man most responsible for his rescue…he was also Cain’s son.
“You are really up to form now, father.” Darius held up his weapon, and then his hand, signaling an end to the bout. “Especially for an old guy.”
Cain smiled, relaxing his straining muscles, tossing the pugil stick to the side. “An old warrior who could still teach a young pup like you a thing or two.” He took a deep breath. He knew his words were empty, a reflexive retort. Despite years of regen treatments, and the fact that close to half his current body weight consisted of newly regenerated parts, he felt his age creeping up on him. Darius was all he’d been at his peak…and more. His son had eclipsed him in skill and military prowess, though it remained to be seen what he became, what he made of his great gifts.
Age. And wear and tear…no matter how much of me Sarah regrows—again—the fatigue is there, soul deep…
Erik Cain had been the greatest Marine of his day, a man who’d found redemption in the Corps and had risen to lead it. But he knew as he stood there, in the inner sanctum of the legendary Black Eagles, that his son had excelled to another level. At least as a practitioner of the art of war.
“Well, we’ve got some fighting to do, that much is certain, so you’ll get your chance.” Darius paused, his voice betraying a rare glimpse of emotion. “I never thought I’d get to go to battle at your side, father. I remember sitting home, knowing you were at war, struggling to defeat the Second Incursion. All I wanted was to be with you.” Darius paused, looking down at the polished floor. “Later, when I was learning the trade, I spent every free moment reading military histories, and no small number of the recent ones were yours…and the Marines’. You did some impressive things, father, won some victories that must have seemed unattainable at the time.”
Cain paused, feeling a wave of discomfort when his son called war a ‘trade.’
He had fought for causes, because he was attacked, to support his comrades…but Erik Cain had never viewed fighting in so coldly routine a manner. As a ‘trade.’
“We had some tough fights…” His tone deepened, became more somber. “…and we lost a lot of good men and women.” He had outlived many of those who’d fought at his side. No, he realized, not many, most of them.
“I’d never have thought then that I’d still be at war so many years later…that it would be so impossible to escape conflict.” Cain’s voice carried a deep sadness with it.
“That is the nature of things, father. There is no escape. Mankind cannot get away from its true nature.” Darius’s words lacked his father’s regret. They were almost entirely without emotion, save perhaps for a grim sort of acceptance. “The vast majority of people will always be pathetic sheep…and they will follow corrupt and brutal leaders who make them empty promises. That is why I chose not a cause for my life’s work, a pursuit that could only lead to failure and disillusionment, but merely to position myself to prosper from the folly humanity will never outgrow. They may despise me for the skill and effectiveness of my soldiers, but the conflicts we fought were of their making, not ours.”
Erik stared back across the room at his son, and his sorrow grew more profound. He had also been a cynical man, one who had suffered early in life and who had greeted most human endeavors that followed with skepticism—a viewpoint in which he’d been proven right more often than not. But he had also found things to believe in—the Corps, his comrades, some truly extraordinary men and women who’d fought at his side…and, of course, most of all Sarah. He and his wife had endured repeated and extended separations, but their devotion to each other had never wavered. He wanted the same for Darius, but he saw in his son only the parts of himself with which he’d most struggled, taken to even greater extremes and lacking most of what had allowed Erik himself to cling to the shreds of his humanity.
“It is mankind’s curse, my son. Sometimes, certainly. And yet, perhaps ultimate victory is out there for the taking. Perhaps this will be the final war.” Cain didn’t really believe it, not even as he said it…but he felt he had to say something, to try to reach Darius, if only because he couldn’t accept the frigid nature of his son’s outlook. He had often thought much the same way, but he’d always fought against it, been plagued by the guilt of his actions, the costs. But Darius was as coldly robotic in his approach as any man he’d ever known, and the commander of the Black Eagles didn’t seem to give so much as a second thought to the millions his soldiers had killed.
Darius wasn’t a bloodthirsty man by nature, nor an evil one, Cain was sure of that, but he knew his son was utterly unconstrained by normal human moderation. Outside his personal army and very small group of trusted friends, Darius viewed all the universe as a potential enemy, or at least the means to an end. If he could accomplish his goals with ten deaths, he would…but if it took a million, or ten million, that fact wouldn’t stay his hand for an instant.
How must it be to live like that? To wrestle with all that I have…and so much more besides? And can I argue with his conclusions? Does history…does our current situation…offer anything to put forth in evidence to challenge my son’s hard views? What did he see growing up? What thoughts took him when I didn’t return? We faced the clearest threat to liberty we ever have against the Shadow Legions…and now, little more than a generation later, world after world can’t wait to yield, to accept the rule of the enemy…a foe that has still not shown himself, not completely.
“Perhaps, father,” Darius replied after a long silence. Cain knew his son didn’t believe it, but there was no point in arguing…especially since he didn’t know if he even believed it himself. Now, more than ever, he wanted nothing more than to live in peace, to escape the brutality of war and enjoy what time remained to him with his family. But that wasn’t possible. The pattern of his life was repeating, and once again the trumpet was sounding. He longed to ignore it this time, but he knew he couldn’t. There was no escape. If the enemy wasn’t defeated, there would be no life such as the one he desired. There would be a stark choice. Slavery or death. And Erik Cain had only ever had one answer to that question.
“Well, that’s a debate we’ll have to table for another day, son.” Cain looked at his son, and he felt himself fighting back a wave of emotion. “I have to leave, Darius,” he said abruptly. “I want to thank you for helping me get back into condition. It’s a lot harder than it used to be. Our technology has held back age—a bit—but it hasn’t defeated it. Not by a long shot.” Cain paused, glancing around the room before settling his gaze back on Darius. “I’d like to stay, or better still, I’d love for us all to go back home, but that’s just not possible.”
Cain regretted the mention of going home. His children had been born and raised on Atlantia, a planet that had not only declared Darius an outlaw, but one that had fallen under a corrupt and oppressive government…one he was virtually certain was being influenced by the enemy. The Black Flag.
“I wondered when you would tell me.” Darius forced a smile, but Cain could see through it, recognize that his son was unhappy about his leaving.
“You knew?”
“Of course. I’ve known since you sent a communique to Admiral Garret, asking for an escort to Armstrong. Do you really think anything happens in the Nest that I don’t know about?” Darius hesitated. “I would have dispatched a flotilla to take you to Armstrong, father. You just had to ask.”
“I didn’t want to add to your responsibilities, son. You’ve got enough here, getting your people ready for the fight…and adding so many to their numbers. I’m certain your ships are fully occupied, without ferrying one old man halfway across Occupied Space.”
Darius looked uncomfortable. “Still, perhaps I will send a few ships along with Admiral Garret’s force. Just to be safe.”
Cain understood his son’s concern. He shared it, though he’d done his best to fight the fear. It had been more than seventeen years since he’d been taken, but Cain knew he’d never forget that his long and brutal captivity had resulted not from any battle on the ground, but from a ship, taken in space by superior forces.
“Augustus will send enough force, Darius,” he said, trying to sound as reassuring as he could. “Don’t worry…I won’t end up on another Eldaron, son.” No, I won’t. They’ll never take me alive again. Never.
He kept that last part to himself. He knew how much he had suffered, but he could only imagine how those years had affected his family…or how they were dealing with the fact that he’d been alive all the years they’d thought him gone. Years they’d gone on with their lives, even as he suffered.
“I’d still feel better, father. My fleet is mostly guarding the Nest right now. Detaching a few ships for a flit to Armstrong isn’t going to materially degrade our defenses.”
“It’s really not necessary, son.” Cain’s voice didn’t have any real conviction behind it. He knew it was pointless to argue once Darius had made up his mind. If he refused the escort, the Black Eagle ships would just follow his force anyway.
“Still, it won’t hurt anything.” Darius paused. Then: “Are you sure you want to go, father? You can stay with us here…you and mother. I know it’s not Atlantia, but we could build you a pleasant residence.”
Cain sighed softly. “I would, Darius…we both would, you know that. But we’ve been Marines all our adult lives. We’re all going to be part of this fight, and I’m just too old a warrior to change now. There will be men and women who’ve come back to the colors, Marines who have served under me in old wars. They deserve to see me there again, Darius, leading them. Could you imagine sending the Eagles into battle—this battle—without you?”
“No, of course not. I understand. It’s just…well, I thought you were gone forever for so long.” He paused, uncomfortably. Emotion didn’t come easily to him. “After so long…it’s been nice having you here.” He looked at his Cain, sucking in a ragged
breath. “I missed you, father.”
Cain stared back at his son, fighting his own surge of emotion. Robotic restraint came harder to him than it did to Darius, and he came close to losing his composure. Finally, he managed a clipped response. “I missed you too, son.”
The two men stood and looked at each other, and then they embraced, a long hug. Erik Cain never knew for sure which of them had been the first to move toward the other, but he knew he would never forget the moment.
“When this fight is over, we can all spend some time together.” Cain said the words, but was sure he believed them. His entire existence had been spent in pursuit of the life he’d just described, but for all his struggles, he’d only attained bits of it. He was immensely grateful for Sarah and his sons, but he resented the constant demands that had taken him from them so often and for so long. They’d had little more than a decade of true peace…amid half a century of brutal combat. Whatever happened, Erik Cain knew one thing. He would do what duty required of him now, in this struggle…but not again.
Humanity can learn its lesson or not…it can do whatever it chooses. But whatever happens, this will be my last war…
“What about Elias?” he asked suddenly. “Any word?”
“I don’t know anything you don’t. I haven’t heard from him or from Eagle Fourteen…but that’s not unexpected. They’re operating under stealth conditions, so they wouldn’t have communicated with the Nest anyway, not if it wasn’t an emergency.” Darius paused then added, “Captain Grayson is a highly capable officer, father, and Eagle Fourteen is one of the strongest ships in space. Elias will be fine.”
“I know he will,” Erik said, with less conviction than he longed to feel. “I just hate leaving without having a chance to talk to him.”
“There’s no rush, father. Perhaps you could stay a while longer…”
Erik shook his head. “I’d like nothing more, Darius, but you know as well as I do, whatever is happening out there, it is coming to a head. We’ve been preparing, but we’ve been late since the beginning. The Marines have to be ready, and I’ve dumped all the work on Cate Gilson for too long.” He paused, feeling a rush of regret. “I have to go, son. We’re out of time.”