Crimson Worlds Refugees: The First Trilogy

by Jay Allan

  Harmon had taken her by surprise when he just stood up on the bridge and ordered her to take command. She’d had no idea what he was planning…indeed, she wasn’t sure he’d planned it at all. Perhaps he’d just acted on an impulse. But a minute later she was sitting in his place…and less than an hour after, he was gone, on the way to the planet, and Cadogan was her responsibility.

  “The scope is clear, Captain. No contacts, no sign that we’ve been detected.”

  The ‘captain’ didn’t sit well with her. It was standard procedure, the commander of a vessel was always called captain, but it just didn’t feel right. Max Harmon was Cadogan’s captain, and the fact that he had made the surprising—and reckless—decision to pilot the shuttle to the planet didn’t change that for her.

  She took a deep breath, and then another. She had the ship’s life support on minimal operation, the reactor shut down completely, and vital systems working off batteries. The ground team had just under thirty-six hours to get to the surface, find the Regent, complete their mission, and get back to Cadogan. Otherwise, Frette would have a terrible decision to make. Fire up the reactor, and probably warn the Regent’s forces they were there…or stay put, and see if suffocation or cold killed her people first. Either way, things would be grim for the ship and its crew. And those on the ground too. But there was nothing she could do but sit tight and hope for the best.

  She looked down at the small display next to the captain’s chair. The screen was dimmed, hard to read, and she leaned forward to get a better look. Every light on Cadogan was on minimal power, the bridge no brighter than dusk. Frette was doing everything she could to stretch the stored power in the ship’s batteries as far as she could. Including keeping the temperature well below comfortable levels.

  She pulled her uniform jacket closed and mostly suppressed a shiver. It was cold on the bridge, but there simply wasn’t power to waste on luxuries like heating the ship to comfortable levels.

  She blinked, trying to focus on the screen. The shuttle was nowhere to be seen, not a surprise since it now carried the stealth device. But Frette had a good idea where they were. Just about to enter the atmosphere. It was an open question if the stealth unit would prevent detection as the shuttle landed. Atmospheres presented a whole host of potential problems…moving air, heating it. All she could do was hope it worked, and that Harmon and the Marines got to the surface. That would be one more step toward achieving their goal. Toward saving the fleet.

  * * *

  Harmon held the throttle tightly, his mind totally focused on piloting the ship. He was trying to keep the insertion angle steady, minimizing the shuttle’s effect on the air around it. It was all he could think of to reduce their chances of detection. He had no idea what forces the Regent had remaining operative after so many millennia, but he assumed whatever remained of the home world defenses would be more than enough to crush his tiny force. The imperial worlds they had explored suggested that less than three percent of imperial spaceships and robot soldiers had remained functional. But three percent of whatever had been stationed on the capital was almost certainly a substantial force. Harmon had twenty-five Marines, one pilot, three naval crew, and three scientists. And himself. Not much to face off against the warriors of the First Imperium.

  “Everybody back there…we’ll be on the ground in three minutes. I have no idea if they’ll be able to detect us down there, so we’re going to get the hell out of the shuttle as quickly as possible. I want everybody ready to go the instant we hit ground.”

  His eyes darted to the side, checking the display. The city sprawling out below was like nothing he’d ever seen, two hundred kilometers across. The buildings were mostly rubble, but miraculously, some still remained standing, including one monster reaching six kilometers into the sky. Harmon tried to stay focused on the mission, but he couldn’t help but let his mind wander a bit, imagining the wonder this city must have been when the First Imperium was in its prime.

  He angled the throttle, bringing the ship in around the edge of the city. The Regent wasn’t in the capital…it was in a fortified chamber twenty kilometers past the outskirts. There were two main entrances, at least there had been half a million years before. Both were massively defended, and Harmon couldn’t imagine his people could sneak in either way, even with the stealth device. But there was another access point shown on the ancient map, an old maintenance tunnel, something the Ancients had discovered, a way in they had intended to use themselves…before they ran out of time. Now it was up to Harmon and his people to complete the mission conceived so long before.

  Harmon cut the power slowly, easing the shuttle down. He backed it off slowly, setting the ship gently on a flat section of ground about a kilometer from the entrance. Then he cut power and shut down the reactor.

  “Alright, Bolger…I shut the reactor down. Get in there with the coolant. Gibbons, as soon as Bolger has the core cooled down, get that stealth unit disconnected. And I do mean quickly.”

  He unhooked his harness and climbed out of the pilot’s chair, flashing a glance over at his co-pilot. “Tomlinson, get back there and supervise those two.” Harmon knew the two crewman were veterans. But there was no such thing as being too meticulous. Not now.

  “Yes, sir.” Tomlinson unhooked himself and hopped out of his chair. He looked over at Harmon and nodded. Then he walked out through the small hatch into the shuttle’s rear area.

  Harmon flipped the com to the wide channel. “Alright everyone, welcome to the home world of the First Imperium. The temperature outside is 19.4 degrees, and the sun is shining.” He hadn’t intended any humor, but it somehow blurted out anyway. Harmon tended to take missions very seriously, but he couldn’t even imagine the stress everyone in his small group was feeling. He wanted them focused, at their best…but he didn’t need them distracted or on the verge of losing it.

  “Let’s go, people. Outside, now. Marines, I want a perimeter around the ship. But move cautiously, and for the love of God, no one discharge a weapon unless you’re damned sure we’re under attack.” The stealth device was a miraculous invention, but firing a projectile outside its area of effect was asking to be detected.

  Detected sooner, he thought. You know there’s no way you’re getting all the way to the Regent undetected…

  “Acknowledged, Captain. We’re deploying now.” It was Major Frasier. His voice was crisp, rock solid. The veteran Marine had his combat edge on. Harmon didn’t know if any two dozen warriors ever made could pull off this mission, but he was sure if any could, it would be these veteran Marines. They were non-coms and officers all, veterans of at least ten years’ service. The best of the best, culled from all the survivors in the fleet.

  Harmon reached down and picked up his life support unit, strapping the small pack to his back. He didn’t have armor like the Marines. First, it was impossible to fly a ship in a fighting suit. And second, the couple times he’d worn a suit, he’d stumbled around like some zombie fleeing the graveyard. Frasier had tried to convince him to bring a set of armor, but he’d held his ground, choosing his naval survival suit instead. It was a self-contained environment, protection against any pathogens or chemical weapons at least, if not the moving fortress a Marine suit was.

  He punched the access code next to the small airlock and the door opened. Harmon took a deep breath of the recycled air in his suit, and then he stepped out…and onto the capital world of the First Imperium.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  From the Personal Log of Terrance Compton

  We’re back. And we arrived just in time. The fleet would have been destroyed, almost certainly, but our arrival took the enemy completely by surprise. He hit them in the rear, and took a two dozen ships before they could reposition. And when they turned to face us, Admiral West brought her ships forward, and we hit the enemy from both sides. Certain annihilation had turned to complete victory. It was as sweet a homecoming as the exhausted spacers of the rearguard could have hoped for.

/>   It soon turned bittersweet, at least for me. Max and Ana are gone. And Connor Frasier too. Of on a mission so desperate, it seemed like a joke at first. But it wasn’t. It was deadly serious, and when I looked at all the data I wholeheartedly agreed. But I despair of ever seeing any of them again. They hold the future of the fleet in their hands, and the currency they are likely to use to buy our lives is their own destruction.

  AS Saratoga

  System X108

  The Fleet: 72 ships (+1 Leviathan), 17771 crew

  “I don’t know what you’re cooking on that bridge, Erika, but I think it’s burnt.”

  “It would have been burnt more if you hadn’t come back just when you did.” She paused, pushing back an uncharacteristic flood of emotion. “Welcome to Shangri la, Admiral Compton. I’ve never been so happy to see anyone before in my life.”

  Erika West sat in her command chair fighting to hold back the tears, reputation as a cold hearted automaton be damned. She’d maintained the positon that Compton was still alive out there somewhere, but she hadn’t realized how little she’d believed it. Not until the moment she’d confirmed the scanner data…and realized the fleet’s commander was back.

  And just in time…

  Midway had stormed through the warp gate, flanked by the rearguard’s two Leviathans and the other seven surviving vessels, and Compton had taken them right into battle, engaging the enemy fleet from the rear. West had never seen ships handled so perfectly, an attack executed with such a combination of absolute precision and bloodthirsty savagery. Midway and her two First Imperium escorts cut right through the enemy force, destroying one ship after another and throwing the others into hopeless disorder.

  West hadn’t given her shocked surprise more than a few seconds of inactivity. Then the cold killer inside her took over, and she ordered every ship in the fleet forward to attack. Her words had been few, but profound. ‘Forward,’ she had said, ‘and let not one ship fall back, not one battery stay silent until no enemy ship remains.’

  News of Compton’s return had spread like wildfire through the fleet, and on ship after ship, crews screamed in excitement…and then they focused, they drove themselves even harder than they had before. Their leader had come back, he had come to save the fleet yet again. He was in the thick of the fight, gunning down every First Imperium ship standing in his way. And the fleet rushed forward to fight at his side.

  The battle had been difficult, and costly. It raged for hours. But when it was done, Midway and Saratoga were positioned only 75,000 kilometers apart, having fought their way through the enemy fleet from opposite sides. And there wasn’t a First Imperium ship left in the system.

  “It’s good to be back, Erika. Though I’d hoped we’d bought you all more time. I see the enemy knows we’re here.”

  “Yes, sir. Unfortunately. We’ve been attacked several times. The system had significant defenses, which Dr. Cutter managed to control…but unfortunately, we’ve exhausted those now.” She paused. “Sir…I was extremely careless when we first arrived. I advanced toward the planet…and the defense system identified the Leviathans as enemies.” Another pause. “They opened fire, sir, destroyed them all. I lost half our firepower because of my…”

  “No, Erika. Stop. There was no way to foresee that.” Compton’s voice was sincere, but she couldn’t help but believe he was disappointed in her. He’d left her four of the remaining six Leviathans…and he’d brought back the two he’d taken with him…though one of those had succumbed in the just-ended battle.

  “I’m so sorry, Admiral.”

  “That’s the last I want to hear about it, Admiral West. We take losses in combat. It is a burden of our trade…and we don’t waste time with what ifs. We are still here, and that is all that matters for now.”

  “Yes, sir,” she said, trying to force the guilt from her voice.

  “Good,” Compton said forcefully. “Now, I’ve been away for too long, and I am sorely in need of an update.” He paused. “I’m a bit of a relic, as you know, and I much prefer a face to face meeting. So, how would you feel about letting Davis Black worry about Saratoga for a while, and shuttling over here for a nice long talk. Because unless I’m sorely mistaken, it won’t be long before another attack hits us.”

  “Yes, sir,” West said. “I will be there as soon as possible.”

  * * *

  “It seems like this Calphala had an incredible mind. I keep getting lost listening to her recordings, almost feeling like she is here with us.” Gower paused. “I know that’s silly. She’s been dead for five hundred thousand years…and the voice isn’t even hers, it’s an AI translation.”

  “I understand. I…felt that way with Almeerhan.” Cutter looked up from his workstation, and gazed over at Midway’s chief surgeon. “I still feel strange about it all…as though I lost a friend. I’m not even sure if I should believe what I encountered was truly him, or just a sophisticated program using his memories.”

  Gower nodded. “I think I understand…as well as anyone can, at least.” She looked back down at her work. “But Calphala…her story is tragic even amid the entire disastrous tale of the last days of the imperium. She was there, Hieronymus. She was so close. Days away.” She looked back up at Cutter, her eyes moist. “You can see it in the final recordings. She was weak, sick, rushing against time to finish her work.” Gower stared down at the floor. She probably died right here, Hieronymus.” Gower sniffled, and a tear streaked down her face. “She died knowing she had failed, that all her efforts were for naught.”

  Cutter nodded. “Yes,” was all he said at first. Then: “I hated the First Imperium, all my anger at the Regent focused on the civilization itself. But I was wrong, so wrong. Their story is tragic, all the more so because all their knowledge and ability failed to save them. Because they were the architects of their own fall.”

  The scientist put down the small ’pad he was holding. “We blame them, hold them responsible for what they created, rail against the irresponsibility of allowing something as terrible as the Regent to exist, to unleash such a nightmare on the galaxy.” He looked back toward Gower. “Yet what is that but hypocrisy? What else but ignorant self-righteousness? How many times have we almost destroyed ourselves? Can you doubt men would also have created the Regent? A machine to look after them, to promise them lives of rest and pleasure? We lacked the technology, Justine…that is all that has saved us from a similar fate. Anything else, pompous thoughts that we would have had greater wisdom…it is nonsense. The kind of nonsense men are always so ready to believe.”

  Gower pulled a vial from the small centrifuge on the worktable in front of her. “You are right, of course, Hieronymus. But all we can do now is complete Calphala’s work.” She held up the test tube, looking at the pale blue liquid in the light of the ceiling fixture. “And I believe we have done just that.”

  Cutter walked around the corner of the large table, stopping a meter from his coworker. He looked at the small glass container. “And just in time. There are over a thousand fatalities in the fleet. And almost six thousand infected.”

  “There is no time for normal protocols, Hieronymus. Not even for basic testing. I’ve got ten doses prepared. We need some volunteers…and the admiral’s blessing to inject this utterly unproven concoction into them.

  Cutter nodded. Then he reached down and flipped on the com unit. “Midway,” he said softly. “Dr. Cutter and Dr. Gower for Admiral Compton.”

  “Connecting.” The AI’s voice was somewhat natural sounding, in the vaguely unnatural way they so often were.

  Cutter looked back at Gower. “At least for once we’ve got some good news to report.”

  Potential good news, at least…I hope to hell this works…

  * * *

  “You’re worried about Max.” Sophie Barcomme lay naked under the sheet, her hand on Compton’s chest. She’d rushed right over to Midway, the instant the battle ended. Everyone was clustering around the admiral, cheering, shaking his hand. They
still faced the same desperate situation they had before, but for a moment they were celebrating the return of their beloved leader.

  But Sophie had seen it immediately. The tension, the soul-crushing fatigue. She knew more than anyone the price Compton had paid to keep them all alive, the toll the never-ending stress had taken on him. And he looked worse than he had before he’d left. Much worse. She decided immediately she had to try, somehow to make him relax, even for a few moments. She’d thought about taking him aside, asking him to tell her about the past few months. She’d considered leaving him alone, giving him some quiet…and standing guard outside his door, threatening anyone who came to disturb him with all manner of dire fates. But in the end she’d taken a simpler, more direct route. She’d seduced him.

  “Yes,” he said softly. She could hear the worry in his voice, the concern for Harmon and those who had gone with him. And of course for the fleet. They both knew the enemy would be back. And Sophie knew the dirty secret Compton couldn’t admit to anyone else. He had no idea what to do.

  “Max Harmon is an incredibly capable officer, Terrance. He can do this. I’m sure he can.”

  “Are you really?” Compton’s voice was riddled with doubt. “There’s no officer in the service I respect more than Max, but can anybody really pull this off? Invading the home world of the First Imperium with one ship. Landing with thirty people?” He paused, letting out a long exhale. “How did we ever get so desperate?”

  “You’re sorry you weren’t here.” She moved her hand slowly, her fingers grazing the gray hairs on his chest.

  “Yes,” he said. “And no.” He turned his head and looked over at her. “Being away saved me from having to send him.” He took a deep breath. “Which I would have done…I would have had no choice. There’s no question he was the right man for the job. It’s a blessing in some ways, that Erika was here to issue those orders and not me. Perhaps it is cowardice to say that…but I would be lying if I said otherwise.”