Shadows of the Gods: Crimson Worlds Refugees II

by Jay Allan

  The forces brought to bear in 17411 would be invincible, overwhelming…and with no way to retreat, the enemy would be compelled to fight to the death. They would extract a price, no doubt, for their skill at war was undeniable. But against the assembled might of the Imperium, they would fall.

  And when the human fleet was gone and its landing parties destroyed, the victorious force would have yet another mission. The forces would move from system to system, until they reached the third planet of 17912, the sector capital. Then the ships would surround the planet, land their ground forces, thousands upon thousands of battle units. They would sweep away the defenders, any units that refused the command to yield to the Regent’s commands. And then, deep in its protective bunker, kilometers beneath the surface, Command Unit 9736 would be destroyed. It had obeyed the Regent’s commands, served its purpose dutifully. But it had learned too much, its forces had penetrated too far into areas that had to be safeguarded, hidden. There was no choice.

  The Regent’s secret would be preserved. Whatever the cost.

  AS Midway

  X56 System – Near the X58 warp gate

  The Fleet: 144 ships, 32,780 crew

  Compton sat in his office, staring down at the screen on his desk as a series of routine reports scrolled by. He was looking at them, more or less, but he wasn’t paying much attention. It wasn’t that they weren’t important, that they didn’t need his attention…indeed, there wasn’t much that went on in the fleet, routine or not, that hadn’t become critical. They were short of food, low on supplies…and he didn’t even want to think about the number of ships that were limping along with systems precariously patched back together after battle. Almost every word that passed his desk was important, but there was nothing he could do about most of it. Not now. Not yet.

  His thoughts kept wandering…back to X48, to the landing parties. The expedition’s primary mission was to address the food crisis. If Sophie and her people managed to grow a bountiful harvest, he’d be able to scratch one problem off that long list. At least for a while.

  But no solution is permanent. In another year we’ll have eaten through the new crops and be right back where we are now. But where will we be then? Will we still be alive, any of us?

  Compton hadn’t dared to think very far ahead after he’d first gotten the stranded fleet out of the X2 system, but he’d known the future was uncertain at best, and more likely downright bleak. But they had survived a year since then…and a mutiny. And a deadly series of battles in system X18. Now, however, he had a bad feeling. He couldn’t place it, couldn’t explain it. Everything appeared to be going at least reasonably according to plan. But his intuition had served him well before, and he’d had to admit he owed almost as much of his storied career to his gut as to his brain.

  Are you on the way back yet, Max?

  Compton had started to worry about Max Harmon. He knew he had no reason, not yet. Wolverine couldn’t have made it this far, even under ideal circumstances. They were supposed to leave X48 after a week…and return to the fleet with Harmon and his report. But the fleet had zipped through four systems in less than three weeks…an extraordinary speed of transit for a collection of 143 ships, many of them still struggling to repair damage and general wear and tear without the needed materials. It would be another week, at least, before Compton could expect his top aide to catch up…but that didn’t stop him from worrying.

  He was still impressed with his people, how quickly the fleet had managed to fly through the intervening systems, giving itself some breathing space in case the expedition was discovered. Greta Hurley deserved much of the credit for that, her and her fighter crews. Her people had run scouting missions, one after the other, and they’d cut the time to discover each system’s warp gates in half. The fighter corps had proven its worth again and again in battle, and now they had once again served with distinction.

  But the fleet was halted now. Four systems was far enough, Compton had decided. He’d considered it much too dangerous to keep the fleet back in X48…in case the landing parties triggered some kind of alarm and were discovered. Still, there was a limit to how far he was willing to go…how far he was able to go. He knew they’d have to return to pick up the expedition, and moving any farther would just burn precious fuel they didn’t have to spare.

  He’d left a trail of John Duke’s fast attack ships behind as scouts, one just inside each entry warp gate and another by each exit. If any of them discovered anything dangerous, the warning could move up the line quickly…giving him time to react.

  And they’ll let me know that Wolverine is on the way back…

  He took a deep breath and sighed. Yes, he was worried about Harmon. Part of it was in his gut, mysterious, unexplainable…and some, he was sure, was just plain caution, even pessimism. But he knew he’d feel better when he got word that Wolverine was on the way back…and even more when Harmon made his report, and told him everything was going according to plan.

  He put his head down in his hands on the desk and closed his eyes. He’d gone the last few days with almost no sleep, and it was starting to catch up with him. But it didn’t matter how tired he was, he just lay in bed in the dark nights, unable to sleep. His mind was on too many things, the stress just too great. He’d considered going down to sickbay and getting some kind of sleep aid, but he knew he’d end up getting checked every way imaginable if he ventured into Justine Gower’s domain, and he just didn’t want to deal with it. Gower was a first rate ship’s surgeon, but she defined the term thorough…and Compton was sick of everybody watching him, overreacting to every sniffle and sneeze. Besides, he figured he’d eventually get tired enough to sleep in spite of the tension.

  “Admiral…” It was Cortez’ voice on the com. The instant Compton heard it he knew something was wrong.

  “What is it, Jack?”

  “We’re picking up activity at the warp gate, sir. The X58 gate.”

  “Incoming ships?” Compton felt his stomach lurch. That could only mean one thing…

  “I think so, sir. No hard data yet.” Cortez was struggling to keep his voice calm and even, but Compton knew his tactical officer was thinking the same thing he was.

  He hopped to his feet, a wave of adrenalin driving away the fatigue he’d just felt. He hit the button on the side of the desk and opened the doors that closed off his office from the bridge.

  He could feel the silent tension in the air as he walked out into the open control center toward his command chair. Everyone’s eyes were on him, and he knew they were trying to draw strength from him, from the leader they had built up into an invincible legend in their minds.

  What a bunch of absolute crap, he thought caustically. He hated the hero worship. He hadn’t liked it much before, when he was just a successful admiral leading his forces in battle. But now…half of them looked at him like his feet floated ten centimeters off the ground.

  He stopped next to his chair and looked over at Cortez. “Anything yet, Commander?”

  “No, sir. Noth…” Cortez hesitated, hunching forward over his workstation. “Yes, sir…multiple contacts. Ten, no twelve. More ships coming in…” He hesitated again, but a few seconds later he turned toward Compton. “IDs confirmed, Admiral. First Imperium Gremlins.”

  Compton just nodded, and then he sat down and took a deep breath. He felt a wave of fear, the feeling of his stomach trying to burn through the lining…but he knew he couldn’t let any of them see that. They needed the legend they had created, now more than ever. And he had to give it to them.

  “All vessels…battlestations.” He kept his voice firm, steady. But it was a struggle to do it.

  He watched as the bridge erupted into action, his officers shedding their quiet fear and throwing themselves into the mountain of work it took to bring a hundred-forty ships to red alert.

  “Admiral Hurley is to bring her command to launch readiness.”

  “Yes, sir.” Cortez’ tone was cold, firm…almost as strong as Compt
on’s. Oddly, the certainty the enemy had found them seemed to wear lighter on him than the worry that they might.

  Compton leaned back in his chair, maintaining his aura of calm while his mind raced madly for an option, a tactic to save his fleet from whatever enemy force was coming through that gate. But there was nothing…no choices save to fight or run. And neither one promised much hope of success.

  “Fuck,” he muttered to himself, almost inaudibly. It was all he could think to say.

  * * *

  John Duke sat on Jaguar’s bridge, staring intently at the display as he listened to the chatter on the command line. There were twenty enemy vessels, all Gremlins, not a large contingent by First Imperium standards. When the enemy forces stopped pouring through the warp gate, there were calls from many of the fleet’s officers to launch everything at the invasion force, to destroy it quickly, with overwhelming force.

  Duke didn’t say anything. He just sat and waited…waited until Admiral Compton decided he’d given them all enough leeway. Then, Duke knew, Compton would give the commands he’d already decided upon. And John Duke was pretty sure he knew what those orders would be. Or at least wouldn’t be. There was no way Terrance Compton was going to order the whole fleet to close on the enemy.

  Duke knew Compton couldn’t ignore the enemy either. The First Imperium ships were anti-matter powered and capable of outrunning anything in the fleet. They had to be dealt with, somehow. And his fourteen ships were already lined up, ready to go as soon as the orders came. Whatever words came out of Compton’s mouth in the next few minutes, Duke was pretty sure his people would be seeing action.

  “Please, all of you…enough.” Compton’s voice broke through, and the others quickly died away. “I understand what each of you has said, but I find it very difficult to imagine that the enemy force we now face consists only of these twenty vessels. We have no idea what lies beyond the warp gate, how many more ships are waiting to transit. Indeed, those vessels are moving well below their maximum acceleration, as if they are hanging back, attempting to lure us closer to the warp gate.” He paused for a few seconds, and the com line was silent. “No, we cannot approach the gate, not allow ourselves to be lured closer. It is too grave a risk, too likely a trap.”

  A few seconds passed before another voice spoke out. When it did, it was Erica West’s. “I agree, Admiral. We cannot risk allowing ourselves to be trapped so close to the warp gate. Indeed, this is very likely bait to lure us in. And that leaves us two alternatives. Move toward the X57 warp gate…and risk allowing the enemy to interpose itself between us and the expedition in X48. Or go back the way we came, leading the enemy along with us…all the way to X48 itself if necessary.” She paused a few seconds then added, “Neither seems an attractive option.”

  Duke felt his head nodding slightly as he listened. He’d been thinking the same thing, more or less, but West had put it far more concisely, as she usually did. Duke didn’t even want to think about losing Terrance Compton…no more than anyone else in the fleet did. But he knew who he would support to take command if that ever happened. There wasn’t a doubt in his mind that Erica West was Compton’s rightful successor—and that she’d be the great admiral’s choice as well. Though he suspected some of the other nationalities might disagree. West was a brilliant admiral, but she lacked Compton’s talent for diplomacy. She was far likelier to call out a fool, even a politically-connected one…and that meant she would probably face considerable opposition.

  “Yes, Admiral West,” Compton said calmly, matter-of-factly, “I believe you have laid out our choices, clearly and succinctly. Do we fall back the way we have come? Do we lead these enemy forces closer to X48? To our people on the ground, exposed to any attack the enemy might launch on them?” He paused. “Or do we make a dash for X57 and jump into unknown space…and risk letting this force get between us and the expedition?”

  The line remained silent while Compton paused. No one had taken his questions as one seriously seeking an answer, and they all waited for him to tell them what they would do.

  “There is no good choice,” he continued a moment later, “no route that isn’t fraught with peril. Yet we must choose our action…and we must do it now.” Another pause. “Therefore, we will deploy a rearguard to engage the enemy task force, for under no scenario can we leave these vessels intact behind us. And while that battle takes place the rest of the fleet will pass through the X57 warp gate.”

  Duke was nodding his head in agreement with Compton’s words, his face down over his screen, preparing orders for his task force as he listened to the admiral’s orders. If a rearguard was going to fight the enemy ships, he had no doubt his suicide boats would be there. They were small…but they packed a strong punch. They were less vital too—more expendable—than the larger vessels, even if only in terms of their tiny crews. If someone was going to risk getting caught close to the warp gate when enemy reinforcements came pouring into the system, he knew it would be his people.

  And someone else too…there aren’t enough of my boats left to beat twenty Gremlins…

  “If the rearguard is successful in destroying the enemy,” Compton continued, “they will send scouting forces through the X58 gate and determine if there are any other First Imperium vessels there. If there are none—if this was some kind of solitary force—they will send word and the fleet will return.” Compton didn’t address what would happen if there were fresh enemy forces beyond the X58 gate. Duke didn’t have much doubt that was the case…and he had a pretty good idea how it would turn out for his people.

  “Very well,” Compton said, “the fleet will move out in ten minutes.” A short pause then: “Captain Duke, Captain Kato, please stay on the line. The rest of you…get to work. You’ve got nine minutes thirty seconds to get your forces ready to bolt.”

  Duke listened to the soft clicks as the other officers dropped off the com line. He wasn’t surprised Compton had told him to stay, and he had no doubt what that meant. But he still felt his stomach twist into knots. Expecting something was one thing, but confirmation was another entirely. He knew there was no alternative, that there was no better choice than his people for the rearguard…but despite all his grim resolution, he had to admit—just to himself at least—that he was scared.

  “John, Aki…”

  The instant he heard Compton’s voice, he knew for sure…his attack ships and Kato’s cruisers would be the rearguard. And the admiral’s tone left little doubt about his expectations, and the guilt he felt at consigning his officers and their commands to fight alone while the rest of the fleet ran. But there was no choice…and they all knew it. And they would all do what they had to do.

  Chapter Nine

  Captain Max Harmon – Emergency Log Entry

  This log entry will likely be my last. My shuttle is being attacked by a First Imperium vessel. It is only a Gremlin, but it has a hundred times the firepower needed to destroy my ship. We are trying to get down into the atmosphere in an attempt to evade, but I am not hopeful of our chances. I am a spectator in this struggle, sitting in the passenger compartment and waiting to see if the pilots are able to escape our deadly pursuer. I am so accustomed to being at the center of the action, it feels strange, waiting to see if others are able to achieve success. This is not at all how I imagined I would die, seated in a plush chair, with no way to intervene, or even fight back.

  If this is my final log entry, I would like to wish all of my comrades the very best of luck in their quest for refuge…and perhaps, one day, a new home. It has been a source of great pride for me to serve alongside so many courageous and loyal friends. And to Admiral Compton, my most respectful farewell. You have been a leader to me, and an example of what men can aspire to be. My years serving you have been the greatest of my life, sir…and if I may dare to presume so far from the bounds of our professional relationship, I would tell you that you have filled a place in my life long left empty by the loss of my father so long ago. Thank you, sir, for all
that you have done, all that you have been.

  I will jettison a copy of this log, along with all the information and reports I was carrying back to the fleet. With any luck, the expedition on the surface will track the homing signal and retrieve the pod…though I question what good that would do. The First Imperium is here, and that does not bode well for the survival of the landing party…or of the fleet itself.

  X48 System – Above Planet II Number Two

  Approximately 14,000,000 kilometers from AS Midway

  The Fleet: 144 ships, 32,770 crew

  The shuttle lurched hard again, and this time the turbulence was accompanied by a shower of sparks from one of the consoles along the wall. Harmon was strapped into his harness, sitting and watching the entire sequence of events unfolding around him. He was a man inclined to action, and waiting quietly for death wasn’t at all like him. But there was nothing he could do…nothing but wait and see if the pilots managed to pull off some kind of miracle and escape from what was beginning to look like certain doom.

  He’d just launched the pod with his log and all the reports he’d prepared. It seemed unlikely anyone would read any of it…if First Imperium forces were moving into X48, it wasn’t likely to be long before the people on the ground were fighting for their lives, battling legions of enemy warbots. All he could hope was that Wolverine managed to escape…and carry back his warning to the fleet. If she didn’t get through…

  No, there is no point in thinking like that, not when there is nothing I can do.

  He had the cockpit com on, but the pilots were mostly quiet as they struggled to keep their tiny craft on an evasive course, one that would confound the targeting systems on the enemy ship. Harmon had to admit, for shuttle pilots, they were doing a damned good jobs.