Crimson Worlds Refugees: The First Trilogy

by Jay Allan

  Frasier stood and looked silently back at Cutter. He didn’t argue, but he didn’t acquiesce either, and his face was twisted in a confused grimace.

  “Duncan, Hieronymus is right. I understand all you say, but you are in the forefront of the ground fighting…you don’t see our situation from every angle.” Ana had been standing quietly, but now she spoke up, stepping toward Frasier and putting her hand on his armored shoulder. “You are almost certainly right…your people will minimize their risk, the risk of the entire expedition, if we simply leave the city and return to base camp. But the scenario that provides the greatest safety for those of us here in the short term is not necessarily consistent with the course of action that gives our people as a whole a chance at survival.”

  Her voice was soft, understanding. It was clear she had a lot of affection for the hulking Marine, and her feelings were on display, in her eyes as well as her tone. But there was confidence there too, and an uneasy assurance, tempered certainly by fear, but there nevertheless. And despite her feelings, she was telling Frasier he was wrong, that he had to let them go.

  Her eyes looked up, fixed on his. “We cannot sit here for two months and accomplish nothing, Duncan. If we do that, we will have food, but we will have done nothing to strengthen the fleet. We will slowly weaken instead of strengthen. We simply must find a way to truly face our enemies, to learn how to stand up to them and win.”

  Frasier sighed softly. She could see he was still uncomfortable, that he was worried about the security risk…and also scared for her. But his resolute expression had weakened, and after a moment he glanced at Cutter and then back to her. “Very well,” he finally said, almost dejectedly. “We will explore more aggressively and see what we find.” He paused. “But both of you…remember that I remain in command onsite here. And if I say we stop, we stop. Understood?”

  “Yes,” Ana said softly. “Of course.”

  “Dr. Cutter?” The Marine stared at the scientist.

  “Very well, Major,” he said, his tone a bit less enthusiastic than Ana’s. “Agreed.”

  * * *

  “I just want to keep an eye on those radiation readings. They’re weak, no real problem at all. But no sense being careless.”

  “Yes, Dr. Barcomme.” The assistant nodded abruptly and ran off back toward the control hut.

  Barcomme looked out over the growing fields, hectares and more endless hectares…the densest crops men had ever grown. Everything was going exactly according to plan…at least with her part of the mission. She’d seen several hundred of Colonel Preston’s Marines bug out in one hell of a hurry, the Colonel himself at their head. There had been some kind of fight in the city, but that’s all she knew. She’d ask Preston about it when he got back, but for now she had plenty of her own work to worry about. And the exploration party running into a cluster of security bots had not exactly been outside the bounds of expectations.

  She looked up at the sky, and her expression turned wistful. It was a beautiful day, bright sun with a mild breeze. By Earth standards it was perfect. But her mind was elsewhere, and all the natural beauty was lost on her. Her thoughts were often with the fleet, wondering where they were…where Compton was. But today was something different.

  She knew she’d miss Compton, and she had. Indeed, she was shocked just how much it affected her, how dependent she’d become on his companionship. She was so utterly alone, especially now that Ana and Hieronymus had left to explore the city. She was busy, of course, and most of the time that occupied her thoughts. But for now she had a few moments to think. Normally, a rest would be welcome, but for now she found herself wishing her work would occupy her every waking moment. The rest of her thoughts brought her nothing but pain or worry…and labor was her only solace.

  But today was something different, deeper, a pain that threatened to tear her apart. “Happy Birthday, my sweet Aprile,” she muttered softly. She turned away, put her back to those standing nearby as the tears welled up in her eyes. Her daughter was seven years old. It was one of the downsides of the fleet using Earth time and dates…it was impossible to forget. Not that she ever would have.

  It had been nearly a year and a half…seventeen months twenty-six days, she remembered exactly, since she’d last seen her child. She’d known she would be gone for a long time when she left, several months…but she’d never imagined the sequence of events that would leave her stranded light years away, never to see her daughter again.

  She’d taken the mission for Aprile as much as anything, so her daughter could have a future. Mankind had been fighting a desperate battle of survival against the First Imperium, and she knew her research could help find a way to defeat them. It had been the most painful decision she’d ever made, but in the end she knew it had been no choice at all. Still, she hadn’t even imagined the agony that awaited her.

  She felt the tears streaming from her eyes now, and she moved quickly away from the camp. She didn’t want to talk to anyone…Compton maybe, but he wasn’t there. She just needed to be alone for a while. She would regain her control…indeed, the fleet’s sacrifice had bought safety for those left behind, and she took her solace in that. Her pain in being lost to Aprile also saved the girl’s life. The Barrier would stand for hundreds of years, centuries before mankind again had to face the horrors of the First Imperium. A lifetime for Aprile, without her mother, but hopefully with peace…and happiness.

  She breathed in deeply, her hands moving to her face, wiping away the tears. She could feel the discipline slowly returning. For all her pain, Aprile was as safe as Sophie could make her, insulated from the horrors of the First Imperium. But she had thirty thousand men and women depending on her, and on her small crew of scientists. If she failed, many of them would die…in agony, slowly starving to death. Or, perhaps even worse, at the hands of death squads…detachments Terrance Compton would have to send out himself, for no one else could issue orders of that nature.

  Her thoughts drifted back to Compton. No, she thought. I cannot allow that…I must succeed. She’d come to know Compton as well as anyone in the fleet…better, indeed, than everyone save perhaps Max Harmon. She’d come to admire his strength greatly. Indeed, she’d drawn her own from his to a great extent. But she thought the need to issue those fateful orders, to sit and stare at a manifest and decide who was to live and die…that would be the final blow to him. No man could endure limitless punishment…not even Terrance Compton.

  She wiped her face again, drying her eyes on her sleeves. Then she turned back and walked toward the edge of the fields, watching as her people labored in the sun, substituting their own sweat and toil for the energy they dared not use in quantities too great.

  She allowed herself one more thought of her daughter, a fervent hope that Aprile was having a wonderful birthday, that the pain of loss had begun to fade for her. It was difficult to think of her child forgetting her, but she knew it was best. Sophie would never return home, never see Aprile again, she knew that…and wishing for the girl to remember her, to suffer more than she had to, would only be selfish.

  She took one more deep breath and walked over toward the fields. Work was good, it was cathartic. And it was the only thing that eased the torment in her mind.

  * * *

  Hieronymus stepped over the broken chunks of rubble, picking his way deeper into the tunnel. His seismic readings had told him there were vast underground facilities below the city…constructions stretching kilometers below the surface.

  He stepped carefully—he’d almost rolled his ankle twice on the shards of stone and shattered masonry. The Marines up front had barged right through the wreckage, their armored boots knocking most of the debris from the path. But it was still a rough walk for someone in regular boots.

  He looked around, his eyes darting from location to location. It was dark in the passage, lit only by the portable lamps of the expedition, the flickering illumination bouncing around the shadows as the party scrambled forward. Cutter could mak
e out the rough shape of his surroundings, despite millennia of deterioration. It looked like an ancient tunnel, long and gently curving, likely some kind of transit line. That was amazing, not because the First Imperium may have utilized its own form of subways, but because so much of the basic shape remained intact after so many long ages.

  “Look at this material, Hieronymus.” Ana was walking ahead, and he could see her head moving back and forth. “We know how old it is…yet it still retains its basic shape. The skyscrapers have all collapsed into piles of rubble, but down here…” Her voice trailed off as her eyes locked onto a chunk of debris laying at the base of a long depression.

  It looked like a sheet of some kind of metal, mostly covered over by the mud along the bottom of the trench…but there was a small section of it that practically gleamed in the flickering light. It was white, with touches of red…and Cutter knew what it was immediately. “A train,” he muttered softly, a piece of a train.” Then louder, “This is definitely the remains of a transportation system.”

  “But how,” Ana said, her eyes fixed on the section of bright metal. “How can this be preserved so well after this many centuries?”

  Cutter didn’t answer…he didn’t have an answer. He just stood there for a few seconds then, suddenly, he climbed down the edge of the depression, lowering himself slowly…and dropping the last meter to the ground. His feet sank three or four centimeters, splashing mud all around, and he reached out to the wall, steadying himself.

  “Hieronymus,” Ana said, leaning over and staring down at her friend. “What are you doing?”

  “I’m going to analyze this material, Ana. Can you imagine the uses for a metal of this durability?”

  “I think we should keep moving now…we can always come back and check this out…”

  A blast of gunfire echoed throughout the tunnel. It came from just up ahead…where the Marine vanguard was moving forward. There was a mad dash forward, as a wave of Marines from the rear of the formation moved up quickly, weapons drawn.

  “Dr. Cutter…” One of the Marines had stopped, and dropped to a knee. He was leaning down, extending an armored hand to Cutter. “Please, sir…come back up, at least until we get a clear idea what is going on.”

  Cutter looked up and nodded. He realized he’d let his excitement, his scientific curiosity, get the best of him, and he scolded himself. He’d argued with Admiral Compton so long for permission to explore a First Imperium world, now that he was here, he found himself impulsive, anxious.

  He reached up and allowed the Marine to pull him back out of the trench, turning his head as he did and looking down the tunnel. There’d been nothing since the initial blast of shots, save for the sounds of the Marines scrambling about up ahead.

  He turned toward Ana. “Maybe somebody thought they saw something and fir…”

  Then all hell broke loose, the sounds of fire coming from multiple directions. Cutter knew immediately from the sound. They were First Imperium weapons, followed up almost immediately by the Marine assault rifles firing in response.

  “Please get down…all of you.” It was one of the Marines, his voice blasting out on the speaker. “There is some debris over there…it will provide cover if the enemy gets closer.” He was waving his arms, directing the research team as he spoke.

  Cutter motioned for Ana to move first. He followed her, halfway at least…then he paused. He hesitated, just for a second…then he pushed her forward, behind the pile of rubble, just as fire erupted behind them.

  He stared back, trying to focus his eyes in the gloomy darkness, his hand dropping to his side, to the pistol Major Frasier had insisted he carry. There was a Marine rearguard behind, but it was smaller than the party in the lead, just a weak squad. And if whatever was out there got by them, he knew he and his people were the next line of defense.

  He felt his heart pounding in his ears, his hands sweaty with fear. But he controlled himself, kept his calm as he stared off in the direction of the new threat, waiting. He heard the sounds moving toward him, the scuffling of the Marines falling back…closer…closer…

  His hand tightened around the pistol, and he drew it slowly, nervously from his holster. He dropped down below large hunk of metal, providing at least partial cover against whatever was coming. His hand was shaking, and he struggled to hold it steady, to focus on the fight that was coming his way. Slowly, with all the effort he could muster, his hand firmed up, his eyes staring down the barrel, ready to fire.

  The shooting was closer now, and he could see the figures of armored Marines, dropping back through the corridor, their shadowy forms carrying back at least two of their own, wounded. And behind them…barely visible in the heavy gloom, he would see the enemy, First Imperium warbots. Not the security units they had encountered on X18 or up on the surface, but full-fledged military bots, like those the Marines had fought on Sigma 4 and along the Line. Massive, bristling with weapons…and heading right toward his team.

  A shudder rippled through his body, watching as the rearguard continue to fall back, realizing they weren’t going to stop the enemy. There are too many of them…they’d be there in a few seconds. He felt his stomach retch, but he forced it back down. He wasn’t a warrior like the Marines, but that didn’t matter now. His people were under attack, and the choice was simple. Fight…or give up and die.

  He his eyes darted to the side, and he caught Ana in his gaze, her face a mask of fear, but her own weapon out in front of her, grim, at the ready. He nodded to himself and gathered up his courage, and his hand slowly steadied, his eye locked on the closest of the enemy. He heard the sounds of the Marines moving back, firing all the way as they did, and he saw the lead bot caught in the streams of two assault rifles…the top half of its body torn apart. And behind the dying robot, he saw another one, moving up and firing its autocannons at the Marines caught in the open.

  Cutter felt a wave of rage as he saw one of the Marines fall, his body ripped open, clearly dead. He gritted his teeth and swore a curse under his breath. Then he fired.

  Chapter Twelve

  Terrance Compton’s Orders to Admiral West

  Erica, I deeply regret that I must assign you this mission, but there is no one I trust more than you…and your success is vital to the survival of the fleet. It is, perhaps, my error that put your task force in this situation…my decision to move toward X57 directly, with no idea of what awaited us there. I didn’t believe we had time to conduct a proper scouting mission, so I elected to proceed directly toward the gate. In the end, that choice has proven costly.

  I do not believe it is coincidence that the enemy has now advanced from each of the warp gates in this system, save the one we entered from. At the very least, we were discovered here, and the First Imperium forces were able to move from unknown locations to approach from multiple entry points. However, I believe the situation is far graver than that. I have no proof, no evidence of any substance, but I now believe the enemy has known where we were for some time, that they have been organizing their forces, awaiting the right moment to strike here. If this is the case, I confide in you that I have no idea what course to pursue, what actions to take to try and extricate ourselves from something that feels like a rapidly closing trap. We must extricate the fleet from X56 for certain, though I now question if this will serve any purpose save to delay the final combat. Nevertheless, we must try to escape the enemy, at least for a time.

  Your mission is of vital importance. You must destroy the enemy forces that have already transited through the X57 gate. If you are able to do so before additional units appear, you are to button up your people in the tanks and follow the fleet to X54 at maximum speed. However, if additional First Imperium forces transit through the warp gate before the rest of the fleet has left the system, you must remain in place and hold them back…at all costs. We must have time to withdraw the rest of our ships. Nothing can interfere with that.

  You have my utmost respect, as do the men and women who serve under
you, and I assure you that all of our thoughts will be with you as you enter battle…and we shall look ahead with confidence to your safe return.

  Flag Bridge

  AS Saratoga

  X56 System – Near the X57 warp gate

  The Fleet: 134 ships, 30,177 crew

  “All ships, fire!” Erica West stood next to her chair, deep within Saratoga’s massive bulk. The flag bridge was about as deep inside the ship as a location could be, save for the reactors…better protected even than the main bridge, where Captain Black ran the mighty battleship. Still, she could feel the great battleship shake to its girders every time the First Imperium lasers slammed into her. The enemy weapons were longer-ranged, and West and her people had no choice but to sit and take it. Until now.

  “Yes, Admiral.” A moment later: “All ships report engaged.” Hank Krantz had been West’s tactical officer for a long time, almost since the day she’d taken command of her first task force. That had been years before, and the enemy then had been the CAC and the Caliphate, not the First Imperium.

  She stared at the display, her eyes fixed on the enemy formation. It was a moderate force—eighteen Gremlins and four of the larger Gargoyles, not much stronger than the fleet that had come through the X58 warp gate and engaged John Duke and his people. West expected more enemy ships to come pouring through any minute, but so far she still faced the same twenty-two ships.

  She could feel the vibrations under her feet as the reactors operated a few points over one hundred percent power, feeding energy into the massive x-ray lasers. Saratoga was one of the Alliance’s largest class of battleships, its nearly two kilometer hull bristling with the strongest weapons developed by man. And she was pouring everything she had hotter than a candle into the First Imperium line.