The Prisoner of Eldaron: Crimson Worlds Successors II

by Jay Allan

  Standing guard.

  But he was lost…

  “Dar…i…us...”

  He stared at the man, at his father, and a single tear overcame his efforts to restrain it, rolling slowly down his cheek. “Yes,” he said, his voice choked with emotion. “Yes, father…it is Darius.” He gasped for a breath, still fighting to retain his composure. “I’m here to take you home.”

  “Home…” the man rasped. “Yes…home…” Then he turned his head and looked right up at Darius. “Sar…ah?”

  “Yes, father…mother is fine. I am going to take you home…to mother.”

  “Home,” Erik said. His thin lips morphed into a weak, quivering smile. “Sarah.”

  “Yes, father. Home. Mother.”

  Darius looked around the room. His people had secured the area, but there was fighting at every approach to the infirmary.

  “General…” It was Alcabedo. “We have to get out of here. It’s too open, too many approaches.”

  Darius felt himself return to reality. The joy at finding his father alive was tempered by the danger. They weren’t out of trouble yet, not by a long shot. He knew Erik Cain could still die on Eldaron…along with all the Black Eagles.

  “Back to the prison, Ernesto. We can set up a stronger position there.”

  He leaned down and slipped his arm under his father’s frail form. Erik shied away from the touch and cried out softly, but Darius scooped him up anyway. He tried to be gentle…as gentle as two large metallic arms could be, but he held his father firmly. They had to get out of here. Immediately.

  * * * * *

  Erik Teller stared at the data on the portable display. It was the third time he’d gone over it, and it was telling him the same thing. “Fuck,” he muttered softly.

  His people had been fighting the new enemy for three days, facing assault after assault. He’d been to every spot on the battlefield, helped pick each position and design each section of fieldworks. He’d been awake for over a week without a break, and he’d overridden his AI’s warnings and pumped three times the safe dosage of stims into his bloodstream.

  He had shifted reserves back and forth, meeting each attack with enough strength to beat it back. But now the enemy had all their forces in place. And unless he was reading the map wrong—and he sincerely doubted that—his people were about to be attacked on every front, fresh assaults coming in all along his surrounded position.

  Erik knew his people had taken out close to ten thousand of the new enemy…and nearly twice that many Eldari levies. But they had lost heavily as well, and most of his units were down to half strength or less. He’d burned the last of his drones on the most recent scanning sweep, and the data was sobering.

  Twenty-thousand, he thought grimly. They’ve got twenty-thousand in the line, even after all we killed…all powered infantry like us. And another seven thousand Eldari troops in the trenches in front of the city.

  He was proud of the Eagles. They had fought as well as they ever had, as well as any soldiers ever had. But there was a limit, and Teller feared he was looking at it now.

  I’m sorry, Darius. Are you even still alive in there somehow? Have you been able to hold out in some remote corner, you and the survivors of the Teams? Or have they run you all down, wiped you out? Did you die wondering where we were? Why we didn’t take the Citadel, why we didn’t come to your aid?

  Teller just shook his head. He’d imagined what defeat would feel like, wondered how he would face death when it came for him.

  And now you will see, you will understand what all those who have fallen to your arms felt, feel the coldness of failure and destruction.

  “But if we must die,” he said to himself, “we will die well.” He felt his mind clear, the uncertainty fading away. The Eagles’ last battle would not be marred by doubts and fears. He owed that much to Darius. And the Eagles. And himself.

  “Activate corps-wide com,” he snapped at his AI.

  “Activated,” came the response.

  “Attention all Black Eagles. The enemy is about to attack us all across the line. I don’t need to tell any of you how outnumbered we are. How low on supplies and ordnance. I don’t need to tell you we face many thousands of enemies, fully-armored and powered like us. No. None of this matters. None of it will affect our actions in the coming battles.” He paused, pushing back an errant thought about what Darius would have said in this situation.

  “No, I need only say one thing to you, and I know with certainty that each of you will truly, deeply understand the meaning. You are Black Eagles, every one of you. And that is all you need to know, all you must think about as we enter this fight.” Another pause. “Stand with me, my brothers and sisters, fight by my side as you have so many times before. And remember…Black Eagles never yield.”

  He cut the com line, and his eyes dropped to the display. There were great thick lines on it, masses of enemy troops so dense the individual icons were not recognizable.

  “Colonel!” Camerici’s voice…excited, almost hysterical. He’d never heard her like that.

  “Yes, Captain?”

  “We have incoming communications, sir. It’s Admiral Allegre, Colonel.”

  “Admiral,” Teller said, finding it difficult to keep a flash of excitement out of his voice. “It is good to hear from you. We’d almost given up hope.”

  “It was a tough fight, Colonel.” A short pause. “I’m afraid Eagle Four and Eagle Six were destroyed…”

  “We feared you were all lost, Admiral. Considering what we’ve encountered down here, I imagined the enemy fleet was overwhelming in strength.”

  “It was, Colonel. We were on the brink of destruction.”

  “So what happened, Admiral? How did you turn the battle around?”

  “We had a little help.”

  Teller shook his head. “I don’t understand, Admiral. Help?”

  “Yes, sir. We got reinforcements at the last moment.”

  Teller still didn’t understand. “Reinforcements? Who reinforced you?”

  “I did, Colonel Teller.” The voice was low-pitched, serious but pleasant in tone as well. “I knew your father, Colonel. Quite well. An extraordinary man, and a good friend too. And I know you as well, though I’m afraid you were a young boy the last time I saw you.”

  Teller listened, focusing on the voice, the familiarity of it. No, he thought…it’s not possible…

  “I’m Augustus Garret, Erik,” the voice said gently, even as Teller realized it himself.

  Augustus Garret? How? Is it even possible?

  Chapter 37

  The Citadel

  Planet Eldaron

  Denebola System

  Earthdate: 2319 AD (34 Years After the Fall)

  Darius knelt over his father, reaching down and shoving a tattered pack behind the wounded man’s head. The floor of the cell was cold and hard, but there was nothing he could do about that.

  He’s probably been sleeping on this floor for seventeen years…

  He felt a twinge of guilt for bringing his father back to the very place he’d been imprisoned for so long, but the detention area was the best spot for his people to make a stand.

  A last stand, probably.

  He could hear the gunfire from outside the cell. The enemy had been attacking constantly, wave after wave of soldiers charging down the hallways. The constricted space favored his people and their defense, but he knew that wouldn’t last. The enemy could replace their losses, but each Eagle that fell was one less in fight.

  And ammunition’s going to be a problem. Soon.

  Darius Cain wasn’t an optimist by nature, and he generally expected the worst from most situations. He knew his strength came from that darkness within him, that he owed his success to his almost paranoid preparedness. But he struggled now to keep a spark of hope alive. Defeat was one thing, but the thought of finding his father only to die with him here was more than he could bear.

  He realized now that he’d never really a
nticipated finding his father alive on Eldaron, that he’d only come because he couldn’t take the slightest chance that Erik Cain was alive and remained in captivity. And to punish the Eldari for any role they’d had in his father’s death. But now he marveled at the irony of discovering his father alive, of Alcabedo’s shot saving him at the last second…only to be cornered in the very prison that had held Erik Cain for so many years. Where he would now likely die, with his son and the two hundred Black Eagles of the Teams.

  He knew Teller and the Eagles would have taken the Citadel by now if the operation had gone remotely according to plan. The jamming around the fortress was too intense for any communications to penetrate, and he’d had no word at all, not since his people had landed days before. For all he knew, the rest of the Eagles had been wiped out, victims of a trap that had proven to be too much, despite their preparedness. But he tried not to think of that. The guilt he would feel for getting all his people killed was unimaginable. If by some miracle he survived, he would mourn his dead Eagles, and torture himself for his role in their demise. But he knew he was far likelier to join them in death…probably a few meters from where he now stood.

  He looked down at his father, feeling a bit of self-hatred for hardly recognizing him. His face was thin, and his skin was covered with lesions and sores. He was mostly unconscious, occasionally opening his eyes for a few seconds before slipping back into sleep. Darius had extended his hand several times, feeling the urge to touch his father, to put a warm hand against his cheek. But each time he remembered he was in full armor, and he stopped himself. His presence, his words…they would have to do for now.

  Ernesto Alcabedo was standing about a meter away, watching over Darius even though they were in the cell, behind the main combat areas. He had stayed respectfully silent, allowing Darius some private time with his father, but now he turned and looked over.

  “General, we’ve got more wounded coming.”

  Darius nodded. “Let’s get them all in here. It’s the safest place we’ve got.” He waved toward the other side of the room where Clive had set up a makeshift aid station. There were about two dozen casualties lined up, but Darius knew there were a lot more of his people wounded.

  “Yes, sir,” Alcabedo replied. Then: “General, our people are requesting permission to pull back to the corridor outside. They’ve opened up the cells all along the hall and positioned snipers in each one.”

  “Yes,” Darius said softly. “Do it.”

  We’re being driven back steadily. The end begins…

  Cain felt a thought go through his mind, quickly hardening to resolution. I can’t stay here, back from the fight. Not now. “I’m going up there, Ernesto.” Cain looked down at Erik Cain’s unconscious form for a second before rising to his feet.

  “What about your father, sir?” There was tension in the captain’s voice. Darius knew it was fear. Alcabedo wasn’t afraid for himself, at least no more than any man facing a deadly fight would be. But the officer had made himself responsible for the safety of the Black Eagles’ commander, and Darius knew his bodyguard was much happier with him right where he was. He understood, but he wasn’t a man who could stay back while others did the fighting. He knew it would be hard on his aide, especially since he was about to ask Alcabedo to stay behind. But no one had ever said being a Black Eagle was easy.

  “My father would be the first to understand, Ernesto. He went to war wherever the bugle called. I can do nothing less.” Darius tried to moderate his tone. He didn’t need Alcabedo thinking he was on his way to find a good death…though he knew in his heart that is exactly what he was doing. He wasn’t going to commit suicide…but he had no intention of surviving if his Eagles all died.

  “What about your leg, sir? And your arm? You are wounded.” There was growing desperation in the aide’s voice.

  “What about them, Ernesto. We’ve both had worse.” He stood and put his hand on Alcabedo’s armored shoulder. “I must ask something of you...and it will be difficult for you to do.”

  “Anything, General.” Alcabedo’s voice was firm, but Darius could hear the emotion too.

  “I want you to stay here.”

  “General…”

  “Listen to me, Ernesto. My place is with the men and women fighting. They deserve to see me there with them. They would in any battle, but this time they are only here because of my need. I owe it to them all, but I can only leave here if someone I trust remains behind.” Darius paused, and his own voice began to crack slightly. “My father…” A long pause. “If they recapture him, they could…they could…”

  Alcabedo stood stone still, staring at Darius. “He cannot fall back into their hands,” the captain said simply.

  “No…he cannot.” Darius took a deep breath and fought to regain his focus. “Can I count on you, Ernesto…to do what must be done when all has come to the end?”

  Alcabedo was silent for a few seconds. Darius understood the enormity of what he was asking, all the more for his own inability to say it in clear terms. He was asking his officer to kill his father, the great Marine hero…to put a bullet in the head of the tortured, wounded man lying on the floor. It would be an inconceivable act, yet both knew it would be even more unforgivable to let Erik Cain fall back into Eldari hands.

  “Yes, General,” Alcabedo rasped. It was clear he was putting all the strength he had into his answer. “I will do what you ask.”

  Darius exhaled hard. “Thank you, my friend. For this…and for your years of loyalty.” He paused, staring at Alcabedo for a few seconds before his eyes moved once more to the figure stretched out on the floor.

  I’m sorry, Father. I tried…and I beg you forgive me—us—but I will not let these monsters take you back. If I cannot bring you freedom, I will at least give you rest…

  He felt tears welling up in his eyes, and he was grateful for the visor that hid his face. He nodded his head once, and he turned away and walked toward the exit.

  * * * * *

  “Admiral Garret…I don’t know what to say.” He understood what was happening, but he still struggled to reconcile with it. Augustus Garret was a legend, almost like a character out of mythology. He’d fought in every one of mankind’s wars for eighty years…and he’d emerged victorious in all of them. But Teller still couldn’t understand how he had come to Eldaron. It didn’t make any sense. “But…how?” he asked, his voice halting.

  “How did I end up here? Well, I suppose that is an odd sequence of events, one that will have to wait until we have more time to talk. For now, you can thank your general’s brother. I was on Armstrong when he arrived there.”

  “Elias? Elias is involved in this too?” His thoughts raced back. He and Darius and Elias had spent their childhoods together on Atlantia…until the Second Incursion destroyed their peaceful and happy lives. Neither Teller’s father nor Erik Cain had returned from that war, and their sons had been left to deal with the losses the best they could. The pain had driven a wedge between Darius and Elias…and Teller had always been closest to Darius. He’d never shared the strange animosity that had developed between the brothers, but when Darius left Atlantia, Erik had gone with him…and he hadn’t seen Elias Cain since.

  “Yes, he is the reason we are here. He came to Armstrong from the Nest looking for reinforcements. He feared you had walked into a trap. And he brought word that Erik Cain might still be alive and a prisoner on Eldaron. Once the Marines heard that there was no holding them back.”

  Teller couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He felt almost like he was punch drunk. “From the Nest?” he asked quizzically. “He was at the Nest?”

  “Yes…apparently right after you left.”

  Teller stood silently for a moment, trying to reconcile everything he was hearing. “And your fleet?” he finally asked.

  “The Armstrong squadrons,” Garret replied. “The remainder of my old fleet, maintained by the Corps.”

  Teller was distracted by the sounds of incoming communicat
ions all around him, reports from units across the battlefield. Camerici and her people were handling it all, struggling to apportion the last of the supplies to the units that needed them most.

  He turned and looked around the headquarters, at the desperate efforts of his staff, and he thought about the carnage up on the battle lines. His people were fighting and dying, even now, despite the fact that the fleet had returned, along with its unlikely reinforcements. His new excitement began to deflate. He was thrilled to find that Allegre and most of the Eagle ships had survived, and astonished and grateful that Garret had come to help. But it hadn’t changed the situation on the ground. Not really.

  His people were still under attack…and it was going to take a miracle for them to beat back this latest onslaught. He could see the maps on the portable displays. There were waves of enemy troops surging forward…and he already had two spots where they were threatening to break through. His people had inflicted horrifying losses on the attackers, but they kept coming no matter what.

  “Admiral Garret…and Admiral Allegre…we’re in a world of shit down here. We could use whatever support you can manage.”

  “Already done, Colonel. Admiral Allegre has downloaded the scanning data from the satellites. We believe we have identified the location of all of the enemy bases. We will be commencing orbital bombardment in approximately three minutes. Vaporizing their logistical centers should shake them up a bit.”

  Teller felt a rush of excitement. “That will be most helpful, Admiral.”

  “And Major Darryk’s birds are launching too.” A different voice. Allegre. “They should be conducting close support runs in less than twenty minutes.”

  Teller sighed hard. Fighter runs…maybe we’ll get through this after all. But those birds are going to suffer from the AA…