The Cost of Victory cw-2

by Jay Allan

  “What is it, Erik?” Holm knew Cain was concerned, and he thought he knew why.

  “General, it is apparent that this excavation has been going on for some time. Years in fact.” He hesitated again. His mind was going dark places, and he wasn’t sure he should burden the general with his speculations.

  “Go on, Erik.” Holm turned to face Cain, though that was a fairly pointless gesture in armor.

  “Sir, it must be Alliance Intelligence who ran this place. They’re going to want it back.” He paused again. “How many of those people we have detained out there are operatives?”

  Holm sighed. “I’m sure you’re right, Erik. Alliance Intel was probably trying to keep a wrap on this place. It’s an unprecedented find. If it wasn’t kept secret, every superpower would have been here trying to get control. The technological implications of researching all of this are staggering. Successful adaptation of this technology would shatter the balance of power.”

  “That could be a problem too, sir, don’t you think?” The laser link between them assured that their conversation was private. “It will take years, possibly decades to adapt any of this into usable form. The CAC obviously knows about this; the other powers will soon as well.” He paused, trying to frame what he wanted to say. “They’ll never let us get that far. This whole war probably started because the CAC wanted to get this away from us. If they fail, what will they do?” Cain didn’t wait for an answer; he provided his own. “They’ll tell the other powers. No one will want the Alliance to have sole control over this kind of technology – it would be suicide. Even our allies will turn against us.”

  Holm let out a deep breath. “It would be the final war.” His voice was soft, his tone grim. “And we’d lose before we had the chance to deploy any new technology.” He paused. “This could even shatter the Treaty of Paris. There could be war on Earth as well as in space.”

  They were both quiet for a minute. Finally, Cain broke the silence. “Sir, have you considered the possibility that Alliance Intel wanted this technology to themselves? To deploy any way they wanted…even against us?”

  Cain’s distrust of the government bordered on paranoia, but what he was saying made sense. “Is that what you think, Erik?”

  Cain hesitated again. He tended to keep his more extreme thoughts to himself, but he trusted Holm completely, and if he was right the general had to know. “I do. Doesn’t it seem strange to you that the military was hardly involved here? Why isn’t there a massive Marine base on this planet? Why isn’t this whole area fortified? They had to know the CAC, at least, had intel on this place. Yet they kept us out of it. Why?” He hesitated, but when Holm didn’t answer right away, he added, “And who are these security troops? They weren’t frontline quality, but they were fully armored and fairly well trained. Where did they come from?”

  “We have a lot of questions to address.” Holm spoke slowly, groping his way toward answers that didn’t come easily. “I’m particularly worried about these troops. They may have some training and experience deficiencies, but that gear is hardcore military. There is apparently another Alliance military organization that we know nothing about.”

  Cain inhaled, holding his breath for a few seconds as he considered Holm’s last comment. “I hadn’t taken it that far, sir.” He paused again, his mind racing with the implications. “Someone in Alliance Gov is building a secret army. There’s no other conclusion.”

  “Erik, the Charter gives the Corps sole responsibility for providing ground troops for extraterrestrial defense. Whoever is doing this is violating over a century of law and tradition.” He had lowered his voice, almost whispering. It was a subconscious reaction – he could have screamed and the communication would still have been 100% secure.

  “There was a plague here that killed every civilian on this planet.” Cain’s voice was hushed too, another instinctive response. “An epidemic that comes out of nowhere and kills everyone almost immediately and conveniently drives the Marine garrison offworld?” He motioned out over the expanse of the cavern. “And doesn’t affect the staff deployed here at all?” He turned back toward Holm. “Does that make any sense?”

  “My God, someone intentionally wiped out the population.” Holm’s tone was somewhere between a question and a statement. “Erik, I want you to get a crew in here right away. Draw them from your teams, the ones you trust the most. I want every centimeter of this place on video. Have them search from one end to the other and log everything.”

  “Yes, sir.” Cain was already mentally putting together a roster. “I’ll make it clear they are all to exercise extreme discretion.”

  “Get me a complete report as soon as you can.” Holm turned back to look out over the cavern. “I have to get back to HQ. This lull won’t last.” He paused, then turned back toward Cain. “Erik, you’re a reckless lunatic sometimes, but you saved the day here. I wasn’t ready for the amount of force the enemy had waiting to ambush us. This crazy, brilliant maneuver of yours broke up their initial attack completely.” He hesitated again. “Thank you.”

  Cain was generally unburdened with concern about what others thought, but Holm was one of the few he did care about. Mentor, second father, friend. He would have followed the general into hell itself. “Thank you, sir.” He paused, then added, “That means a lot, sir.”

  They stood there quietly for a few minutes, looking out over the railing, each deep in his own thoughts. The silence was broken by Captain Teller on Cain’s comlink. “Colonel, I’m sorry to disturb you, but the supervisor of this facility is extremely insistent that she speak with my superior.”

  “Very well, captain. Advise her I will be with her shortly.” He switched to his direct link with Holm. “General, the former administrator is giving Captain Teller a hard time. With your permission, I will go out and deal with her.”

  “Good idea.” He turned from looking out at the cavern to face Cain. “Remember, no one gets in here but your hand-picked team. And I want the members of that security force questioned as soon as possible. They are to be kept separate from the civilian staff.”

  “Yes, sir.” He turned and started to walk down the corridor.

  “And Erik?” Cain stopped and looked back. “I know you already had an altercation with Captain Warren.”

  “Ah…yes sir, that was…”

  Holm cut him off. “Erik, I don’t care about that. I just wanted to say that none of the political officers get in here. I don’t care what they say or how much they complain. Until I am able to confer with General Samuels, this area is off limits to them.”

  “Yes, sir!” Cain would actually enjoy telling the government snoops to get screwed. “My pleasure, sir.”

  Cain stood outside the blasted entrance to the tunnel, looking out at the various groups milling around. Mostly his people, some standing guard, some escorting groups of detainees as they began to march west. He’d ordered the civilian workers separated from the security personnel and for both groups to be evac’d to the plateau for eventual transport to a detainment area, probably near Holm’s HQ. But they’d probably have a long wait; Cain would be damned if he was going to divert any transports to moving these people until every one of his wounded had been evac’d to the field hospital.

  He was about to com Teller when he saw the captain standing on a hill about twenty meters from the tunnel entrance. He was facing a woman whose back was turned to Cain. She had long blonde hair cascading down her back. For an instant he thought it was Sarah. No, he thought. Not possible. He walked toward them, and when he was about five meters away Teller motioned toward him and she turned around.

  He stopped in his tracks. It wasn’t Sarah, but the resemblance was uncanny. She was a couple centimeters shorter, and her hair didn’t have the reddish tint Sarah’s did in the sun, but the similarities greatly outnumbered the differences.

  “Colonel Cain, I need to speak with you.” Her voice was different that Sarah’s, lower-pitched, and the tone was darker, more intimida
ting.

  Cain hesitated for a moment, still distracted by the resemblance. Finally he answered, his voice a little tentative. “What can I do for you?”

  She stared at him. His visor was set to transparent, so even though he was armored, she could see his face. “Colonel, I must insist that you return control of this facility to my staff at once. The Tarsus Corporation has a Presidential Charter providing exclusive rights to explore this archeological site.” She extended her hand. In her open palm was a small data chip.

  Cain had an urge to dismiss her abruptly, but she looked so much like Sarah he found it difficult. “I am sorry, Supervisor Cole – it is Cole, right? – but I am not authorized to allow anyone except designated Marine personnel into the cave. I’m afraid that’s final.”

  A master manipulator, Alex could sense that something was holding him back. She’d half expected him to have her escorted forcibly to the detainment area. What is it, she thought? Is he just a sucker for a pretty face? No, it must be more than that. Erik Cain had a reputation for many things, but being a soft touch was definitely not one of them. “Colonel…” – she spoke gently this time, her tone sweeter, less confrontational – “…please call me Christine. I’m afraid you don’t understand. This facility is extremely fragile. My personnel are highly skilled. With all due respect, your Marines are not trained to handle this type of artifact.”

  “Supervi…Christine, I can assure you that no one is going to disturb any artifacts in that cavern. Our interest is maintaining security, nothing more.” Teller stood listening, surprised at Cain’s tone and his efforts to explain. The captain had been expecting something more akin to a volcanic eruption, but for some reason Cain was restrained.

  “But Colonel…”

  “I am sorry, but the matter is closed.” His voice was sterner, not cold, but he was clearly losing his patience, a commodity he possessed in extremely limited quantities.

  Back down, she thought. You’re not going to change his mind; don’t waste whatever goodwill you seem to have. “Very well, Colonel Cain.” Her voice was soft, almost seductive. Don’t overdo it, she thought. This man will see through bullshit. “I see that I have no alternative, so I will obey your orders.”

  “Thank you for your cooperation.” He was looser; the tension that was building was gone. “Captain Teller, please have Supervisor Cole escorted to her people, and see that they are all made comfortable until we are able to transport them to a more appropriate place.” He turned to face Alex. “Christine, I am afraid that I have many duties. Good bye.” He turned and started walking back toward the cave entrance.

  “Thank you, colonel.” That was odd, she thought. I’ll have to do a little research on the good colonel. But how the hell am I going to get control of the facility from these damned Marines?

  Chapter 27

  WAS Midway Alliance Combined Fleet In orbit around Epsilon Eridani IV

  Garret sat on the bridge of Midway, still uncomfortable, still in pain, but profoundly relieved. There had been some tense moments over the past four days, but now he was master of the Epsilon Eridani system. He’d even allowed himself the indulgence of a moderately powerful painkiller. It wasn’t enough to seriously impair his response time, but now he could finally afford to be just a touch below 100%. At least the thundering pain in his head, his constant companion for four days, had become more of a dull ache.

  As with most victories, this one didn’t come without cost, though the losses had been far less than he’d expected. His broadband communication announcing his arrival had probably saved Admiral Compton and his people. The enemy fleet had been about to close to energy range of his battered ships. Facing overwhelming firepower, Compton’s force would have had little chance of survival. They would have bled the enemy as the price of their lives, but in the end, they would have fallen.

  Compton had been sitting on his bridge when Garret’s broadcast came through. It gave him a shred of hope and, failing salvation, a chance to die for victory rather than defeat. There wasn’t a doubt in his mind – if he were in command of the enemy fleet he’d come in full bore and wiped out his smaller armada before Garret’s task force could close. Garret would have done the same – Compton was sure of that.

  But CAC commanders were conservative. The penalties for failure were severe and did not encourage bold action. And Admiral Dieng was dealing with Imperial and Europan allies who had already suffered greater losses than they’d bargained for.

  Compton played a hunch. His first instinct was to accelerate away from the enemy at maximum thrust. That would buy time, but the incoming fleet already had some velocity, while his ships were virtually stationary, deployed around the asteroids they had used for cover against the missile attack. Running would have delayed the enemy’s reaching energy weapons range but not long enough for Garret to arrive. So Compton stood firm, bluffing, signaling that he wanted the laser duel. Prey on the enemy commander’s concerns about Garret, he thought.

  Compton had waited and watched, the minutes passing like eons. Finally, after what seemed like hours but was actually only a few moments, the reports started coming in – the enemy was decelerating, trying to reverse course before entering laser range. Compton was relived, though he tried to maintain his usual cool, unflappable image for the crew. In the end, the two fleets were briefly in each others’ effective ranges and exchanged fire for a few minutes before the incoming ships were able to reverse course and disengage. Saratoga took significant damage, and her heavy laser cannons were knocked offline, but not before they scored another hit on the battered Prince de Conde.

  The bridge of Saratoga was filled with the pungent odor of burnt electronics, and repair bots wheeled wildly around, bringing salvageable systems back online and bypassing those that had been chopped up or fried into useless junk. Compton breathed a sigh of relief and leaned back in his command chair, eyes closed thinking how near they’d come to annihilation. The battle wasn’t over – far from it. But the enemy commander had made a mistake; he’d chosen the course that seemed more cautious, and with that decision he’d thrown away his best chance at victory.

  With the enemy retreating out of range, Compton now ordered his ships to accelerate in the opposite direction, away from the enemy. He didn’t want the opposing commander to change his mind – there was still time to engage his force before Garret arrived – so he put a little extra distance between them.

  The overall forces in the system were close to even. If Garret’s fleet had consisted of full battlegroups instead of just the capital ships, the Alliance would have had the clear edge. But even lacking escorts and support vessels, Garret still had the only ships that were fully armed and equipped. His battleships had full external missile racks and, all together, sixteen squadrons of heavy bombers. All his bomber crews were green as hell, but the enemy didn’t know that.

  Before committing to another bloody fight, he decided to try an unorthodox strategy. “Attention Europan and South American naval units, this is Fleet Admiral Augustus Garret of the Alliance Navy.” Garret was sure the CAC’s allies would have been told he had been killed, so he decided to get the maximum impact he could from his sudden return from the dead. He didn’t know if they’d believe it was him, but he was sure it would give them something else to think about, and maybe sow some doubt in their minds about what their CAC allies told them. “To my knowledge, there is not yet a declared state of hostilities between our nations.”

  He paused for several seconds. Let them wonder a little, he thought. “I am prepared to offer a truce. If you agree to follow a pre-agreed course out of the system, I will refrain from any hostilities against your ships.” He paused again, but only briefly. He wanted to finish before the CAC commander could intervene. “You will be allowed to depart this system and return by the most direct course to your nearest base.” They won’t want to abandon their ground forces, he thought as he was speaking. “If you accept these terms, General Holm will offer a similar truce to your forces
currently engaged on the surface.” He was making big promises for Holm, but he was sure the general would back him up. “If they surrender and lay down their arms they will be repatriated as quickly as transport can be arranged.”

  Garret was wildly overstepping his authority. He wasn’t even technically in command of the four battleships he’d commandeered, though no one was going to challenge the orders of the Navy’s senior field officer, even if he was still technically dead. But agreeing to truces and promising to allow enemy warships to retreat unmolested through friendly systems was far more uncertain ground. And unilaterally promising to repatriate tens of thousands of enemy troops was even more of a stretch.

  Garret was still 20 light minutes away from the enemy fleet, so it took some time for his message to reach its recipients and more for any response to get back to Saratoga. While he waited, he focused on readying his green crews for the battle they might have to fight and running diagnostics on his new and untested ships, but forty minutes later he was staring at the com, waiting for a reply that might come at any time…or not at all.

  The entire flag bridge staff sat tensely, waiting to see if Garret’s offer would be accepted. If it wasn’t, his people faced a serious fight, one they could very well lose. But if the Imperial and Europan contingents withdrew, they would seriously outnumber and outgun the CAC and Caliphate forces that remained. Soon they would know.

  Admiral Jacques Maret sat in his command center, his helmet visor closed so no one could hear his communications. He was conferring with Fleet Admiral de Santos, his French being translated to Spanish by his AI before transmission. “Have you conferred with Admiral Dieng?” He waited while his communication traveled the four light seconds to Emperador and the response made its way back. Maret had agreed that Santos, as leader of the larger task force, should discuss the situation with the CAC commander in chief.

  “I have. He is adamant that he will not conduct negotiations.” Santos’ voice was slightly electronic; the Imperial AIs weren’t as sophisticated as the Europan, and the translator didn’t replicate Santos’ voice as perfectly as Maret’s did his. “I believe he is afraid of ending up in one of Li An’s little rooms.”