by Jay Allan
“Well that campaign on Sandoval was one for the books.” Thomas spoke softly, pulling Holm back from his introspection. He drained the last few drops from his glass, looking at light refracting through the thick-cut crystal. “I think it even topped us on Persis. What do you think?”
Holm was silent, his mind drifting away again, this time back across the years, to another battle, long ago. A sad look moved across his face, but after a few seconds a little smile crawled back onto his lips. “Maybe so, Sam. We didn’t have to face the First Imperium back in those days.” He paused. “But we did our share of fighting there. I still remember Persis. Every day.”
“Me too, old friend.” Thomas set his glass down gently. “We lost a lot of good people there. Marines that shouldn’t be forgotten, whatever else we wish we could forget. Not ever.”
“Not ever.”
The two of them were silent for a few minutes, ghostly old faces moving across their eyes. Friends they’d lost years before.
Thomas leaned back in his chair. “So, my friend. I don’t get many visits out here, and I can’t tell you how good it is to see you.” He smiled warmly at Holm. “But you came here for something other than shooting the shit with an old fool Marine…I’m pretty sure of that. Why don’t you spill it?”
Holm almost laughed. Thomas had always been very direct, and he was amused to see age had done nothing to change that. “I’m afraid we’ve got another problem. Another battle, I mean.”
Thomas sat still, his face showing not a hint of surprise. “You mean the attacks on Alliance colony worlds?”
Holm stared at his old friend, a stunned look on his face.
“Come on, Elias. Did you think I wouldn’t hear about something like that?”
“I should have known better.” This time Holm did laugh. “I don’t know how I figured any piece of gossip would escape your ears.”
Thomas let out a hearty laugh. “I like farming, Elias, but you can’t imagine that’s enough to keep me busy, can you?” His broad smile slowly slipped off his face, leaving a deadly serious expression in its place. “So tell me what I can do for you, old friend? You know you just have to ask.”
Holm sat uncomfortably, a frown coming over his face. “Sam, I think whatever is happening to Alliance colony worlds is a more extensive problem than we thought at first. A very serious one.” He looked up from the table, making eye contact with his companion. “There are over 20 worlds affected now. Whatever informational network you’ve got out there, I’m sure you haven’t heard that.”
Thomas had a hard face to read, but it wasn’t difficult to tell he was surprised by what Holm had just told him. “My God, Elias…any idea what we’re dealing with?” He looked right into his friend’s eyes. “One of the other Powers? More than one?”
“Maybe.” Holm’s tone had become darker, more somber. “We really don’t know, Sam.” He took a deep breath. “But I know we need help. We can’t deal with this ourselves.” He paused again. His eyes had been wandering around the room, finally staring down at the table, but now he looked up at Thomas. “Things are much worse than you know. The Corps is shattered.”
Thomas breathed in deeply, exhaling loudly. “The Corps is forever, Elias. You know that better than anyone. It always finds a way.”
“I’ve always believed that, Sam.” He was still looking into Thomas’ eyes, and the old man could see the weakness. Holm had held the Corps together through rebellion, Alliance Intelligence plots, and the brutal war with the First Imperium. But he was close to his wit’s end now.
“We lost the Academy during the rebellion…all those cadets, officers who never took the field. And the casualties we’ve suffered…Carson’s World, Farpoint, Sandoval, Sigma 4. Persis was a nightmare, but it was one battle…followed by peace. But now we’ve been bled dry.”
“Where is your strength deployed now?” Thomas’ voice had changed in tone. He’d sounded like an old man before, reminiscing with a friend. But that was gone now, and he spoke with the cold rationality of a Marine officer.
“I sent Cain to hold Armstrong.” Holm nodded as he spoke. “He’s got just about everything battle-ready with him.” He paused. “It’s not a lot. It’ll be a miracle if he can fight off a major attack.”
“Cain’s in the miracle business, Elias. You know that better than anything. He’s earned our confidence by any measure imaginable. You gave him the forces you had…now let him do his job.”
Holm nodded. “You’re right, Sam. It’s just that I keep putting him in impossible situations.”
“And he handles them,” Thomas interjected. “Save the guilt for later.” He paused. “So what else is urgent?”
“Jim Teller’s on Arcadia. At least I hope he’s still alive. We haven’t heard anything since he landed, trying to liberate the colony.”
“I’ve never met Teller, but from what I’ve heard, he’s a good man.”
Holm sighed. “One of the best.” He paused. “And I have to find the forces to mount a relief expedition. I just don’t have the manpower.” He looked at Thomas again. “Sam, I need your help. If I don’t find some trained troops somewhere, a good Marine and his people are going to die, unaided and abandoned…and one of the most important colony worlds will be lost.”
Thomas nodded, seeing where Holm was going. “I’m still handy with a rifle, Elias, but I don’t think one old man is going to make a big difference.”
Holm smiled grimly. “You’re not one man, Sam. How many Marines have retired to this planet? You and I both know every one of them will follow you anywhere.”
Thomas had been one of the first colonists on Tranquility. He’d spent more than 30 years of hard work building one of the largest farming complexes on the planet. Tranquility had initially been settled by retired Marines leaving the service after the Second Frontier War, and Colonel Samuel Thomas had been – and remained - the most prominent member of that group.
He’d taken everyone in the Corps by surprise with his retirement. Thomas was one of the great heroes of the Second Frontier War, and most people figured he was on a path that would take him to the Commandant’s chair. But it wasn’t to be. Something had changed for him during the fighting on Persis, something elemental. He was angry, disillusioned, wanting nothing except peace and solitude. He’d left with the quiet dignity he felt befitted a Marine, but privately he swore he’d never again raise a sword for the Alliance government. And for 30 years he hadn’t. Tranquility even remained quiet during the rebellions, and Alliance Gov left it alone. No one was looking to pick a fight with thousands of cantankerous ex-Marines.
“Elias, most of the younger guys already left Tranquility to go back to the Corps.” Thomas was thinking as he spoke. “All I could offer you…if anyone even listens to me…is a pack of old men and women.”
“If they’re old like you, I almost pity our enemies.” Holm nodded slightly as he spoke. “Sam, we say it enough, but now I need to ask you to show me they’re more than just empty words.” He felt a pang of guilt. He had no right to question Sam Thomas’ devotion to the Corps. The man had done his service already…far more than his share.
Thomas sat quietly for a minute, a distant look in his eyes, as though he was awash in old memories. Holm was one of the few people who knew why Thomas had left the Corps, and he understood just how much he was asking of his old friend.
“If I had any other options, Sam, I wouldn’t be here.” Holm spoke softly, sadly. “You deserve to be left alone, to enjoy your retirement and all you fought and worked for.”
Holm could see the change in Thomas’ eyes. There was sadness there, but something else too. Fire. He could see the tension in the older man’s arms, the tautness, the energy coming from someplace deep within.
“I will do what you ask, Elias…recruit as many of the old warhorses as I can.” He slapped his hand down on the table. “They’re not just words, and you know it well, General Holm.” He looked at his friend with a withering stare. “Once a Marine, al
ways a Marine.”
Chapter 11
Alliance Intelligence HQ
Washbalt Metroplex
Earth, Sol III
Stark sat quietly at the table, reading the reports on his ‘pad as he finished breakfast. He wasn’t much of an eater in the morning…just some dry toast and a small bowl of fruit. He didn’t usually eat in his office, but things were starting to move quickly, and he’d spent the last couple nights there, grabbing a few hours of sleep before getting back to work early in the morning.
Project Shadow was moving along perfectly. All stage one objectives had been secured with the exceptions of Arcadia and Columbia, and it was only a matter of time until they fell. The Arcadians had been relieved by a small Marine contingent, an unexpected twist, though it was a weak force, enough to cause delays, but too little to turn the tide.
The Columbians were the other ones really defying expectations. He was beginning to think he’d underestimated them. The planet had suffered greatly during both the Third Frontier War and the rebellions, and Stark was coming to realize those experiences had toughened them up considerably. He couldn’t help but laugh as he read the report. For all the constant whining about freedom and self-determination from these colonials, the Columbians had given their top military commander dictatorial powers. Everybody wants freedom, he thought, until they’re scared…then they want someone to take care of them. He laughed derisively. It wasn’t going to help them, though. His forces were too much stronger. The fight might go on a little longer, and casualties would be higher, but Columbia would fall. It had to fall. He was going to need the planet and its resources intact for stage three.
Now it was almost time for stage two. He’d given Augustus Garret only two options that made any sense…deploy his fleet to protect Armstrong, or keep his forces mobile and try to hold the planet with ground troops alone. Garret was a genius, prone to unorthodox strategies, but he would still choose a course of action that was strategically sound. As brilliant as he was, he made his decisions meticulously, and in his current position, that greatly limited his options. Another thought crossed Stark’s mind, a dark one that brought a smile to his face. Stranding Terrance Compton and his people behind the Barrier had to hit Garret hard. If anything, he’d be less daring than usual, opting for a safer course. Augustus Garret knew space combat better than any living human being, but unraveling the psychology of adversaries was Gavin Stark’s particular brand of genius. Garret might be brilliant at naval tactics, but he was too soft when it came to his people, a weakness Stark did not share. Everyone was expendable to Gavin Stark…nothing mattered but power. His power.
Now it was starting to look like Garret was leaving Cain and the Marines on Armstrong and pulling his ships out. Stark sighed. If he’d been given the choice, he’d have ceded Armstrong in return for tying down Garret’s fleet. Naval strength was always the weak spot in Project Shadow, which is why he’d chosen Wolf 359 as the first objective. His people were getting the repaired ships into the line as quickly as possible, but if it came to a straight up fleet engagement against Garret any time soon, Stark was far from confident of victory. He had a number of backup plans for dealing with Garret, but he’d have preferred if the son of a bitch had just parked himself at Armstrong and stayed there for a few months.
Even with his own weakness in naval strength, it wasn’t Garret that most worried Stark. Erik Cain was the one he was truly concerned about. Not because he was smarter than Garret; he wasn’t. But he was crazier. Cain was the more dangerous opponent because he was less predictable. By all accounts he was as wracked by guilt over expending his people as Garret…but he still did it. Again and again. He would sacrifice huge portions of his force and do things that seemed stupid, foolish…all to gain the element of surprise. Erik Cain didn’t fight to win…he fought to obliterate his enemies, to destroy them utterly. As far as Stark could tell, Cain would do anything to win. Anything at all. And he would never stop, never surrender. That was a dangerous man. Stark would do anything, sacrifice any number of lives, to win. Cain was the closest counter to that his enemies possessed.
But now he was where Stark wanted him. Cain was a threat anywhere he went, but stuck on Armstrong fighting a protracted battle, he was contained. Stark didn’t fool himself about the casualties his forces were likely to sustain fighting against the Marines’ blood and guts commander. But it was worth it to know where Cain was…and to keep him from interfering anywhere else. Stark didn’t really need Armstrong, but his adversaries did. His attack there was more of a diversion than anything else. If he took the planet, so much the better. He would deprive his enemies of their main base. But just keeping Cain and the bulk of the Marines’ remaining strength there was its own victory, regardless of the final resolution. Stark wanted the battle as bloody as possible…Armstrong would be the graveyard of what remained of the Marine Corps. Win or lose, there would be so few of them left, they’d never interfere with his plans again.
Plus, he had an ace in the hole on Armstrong. He wasn’t counting on Alex Linden. He’d once let himself believe she was as coldly sociopathic as he was, but that hadn’t proven to be the case. His trust in her had been an uncharacteristic weakness. Stark rarely let anyone affect his judgment, but Alex’s sheer sexual magnetism was like nothing he’d ever encountered before. Even though he’d been consciously wary of her, his subconscious proved to be susceptible to her charms. Stark wasn’t one to let his prick make decisions for him, but Alex was a wildcat like no woman he’d ever encountered. He doubted she’d ever failed to seduce any man into doing her bidding…or any woman for that matter.
He’d been careless with her, but it wouldn’t happen again. Reuniting her with her long lost sister had been a mistake, and the ancient submerged emotions had caused unexpected behavior in his former protégé. He’d done his best to shock her back to her senses, to remind her of the rewards of success and the penalties for failure and betrayal. Now she would have a chance to fulfill her longstanding mission to assassinate Erik Cain. Whether she would do it or not was yet to be seen.
If she did, the battle on Armstrong would be over that much sooner. Without Cain, the Marines would have no chance against his forces. Success wouldn’t affect her fate, though. Alex Linden was far too dangerous to leave alive. Whether she killed Cain or not, Stark had no intention of letting her leave Armstrong. He couldn’t tolerate anyone who affected his judgment, reached whatever fragments of human emotion remained in his sociopathic mind. And he wouldn’t let himself underestimate her. Alex was a viper, and a brilliant and unpredictable one at that. He wouldn’t put it past her to kill Cain as ordered and then come back to Earth and try to assassinate him. He wasn’t going to give her the chance. No, she would never get off Armstrong.
“Number One, the package has arrived.” The voice on the com was cool, unemotional. His new operatives were working out very well. He wasn’t sure they had the sophisticated cunning of his veteran field agents, but they were serving their purpose. And they were as secure as possible. They had no backgrounds, no pasts, no unknown weaknesses. They couldn’t be blackmailed, seduced, or bribed.
Stark wasn’t about to divulge any of the details of Shadow to anyone who didn’t need to know. And that included nearly everyone in Alliance Intelligence. With a very few vital exceptions, no one but Stark’s new Shadow Team knew anything about the ongoing project.
“Very well. You know what to do.” A smile crept onto Stark’s lips. The package hadn’t been easy to obtain. Unauthorized nuclear materials weren’t all that difficult to find, but this batch was very special, and Stark’s plans required absolute secrecy. The uranium was from Yosan, one of the CAC’s major resource-producing colonies. And it didn’t exist, at least not on the production records of the Yosan Mining Corporation.
Certain types of procurement were an art form, and Alliance Intelligence had its share of artists. Unfortunately, the agents who executed this heist so expertly wouldn’t have much time to enjoy the rewa
rds of success. The drug was time-released, with a critical reaction period that varied with body chemistry. Some would last a few days, others would be dead by evening. By the weekend, all living links to the theft would be gone, including Agent J, who’d just reported the package’s arrival. Stark had always hated loose ends, but he was taking it to an extreme with Project Shadow. Ten years of planning, of herculean effort…it was finally coming to fruition. He wasn’t going to take any chances.
The package from Yosan was crucial to stage two, and he felt a small wave of relief that it had arrived. U-235 was basically a commodity, at least with regard to its ability to reach critical mass and trigger a nuclear reaction. But there were subtle differences, and with enough effort, a skilled team could trace the residue from an explosion to the source of the key element.
Stark leaned back and smiled. He wouldn’t be part of that investigation. He’d be dead…one of the victims of the CAC plot to destroy Alliance Intelligence headquarters. But he was confident his people, enraged at the attack against their HQ, would quickly trace the fissionable materials to Yosan…and the CAC. His successor would declare Plan Omega immediately, and every Alliance assassin would target a list of designated C1 operatives. It would be total war between the intelligence agencies…and probably between the Superpowers as well. Augustus Garret would find himself ordered to attack the CAC’s fleet…and even if he refused, it wouldn’t be long before Hong Kong sent its forces against him, forcing the issue. With Garret distracted, Stark would be able to complete stage two by consolidating control over the major Alliance colonies.