Crimson Worlds Collection I

by Jay Allan

  His eyes were fixed on the monitors, but he needn't have bothered - he knew by heart what was happening in those bays. First, the troops would stand there, armor deactivated, the crushing weight held up only by the locking bolt attached to the lander. That's when the claustrophobia is the worst. Even those who aren't bothered by tight spaces are uncomfortable encased in several tons of Osmium-Iridium polymer hanging there like dead weight.

  Then the nanotech nuclear plants that energized the armor would come alive, and power would flow into the various circuits and systems of the suit. The Marine was still bolted in, but now the servo-mechanicals were working, and the crushing feeling of weight around you was gone. Armor looks bulky and cumbersome but, the truth is, a well-trained Marine is fairly comfortable in his suit.

  The bolted in Marines would be getting updates from the ship's battle computer. In Cain's early days this voice was mechanical, electronic. But the newer ships had human-sounding AIs, just like the Marine armor itself. Erik wasn't sure he didn't prefer the old electronic voice to the new human-sounding ones - either in the bay or from his own wisecracking AI, Hector.

  Just before the bay depressurized and the doors opened, the Marines bolted into the Gordons would be pressure coated with heat-resistant foam specially designed to protect against the high temperatures of atmospheric landings. Cain was watching it all unfold right in front of him, but his mind was eons away, in other launch bays with long-dead Marines.

  The last update was given by the ship's captain, a tradition Cain was glad had survived the escalation of the war. Alliance skippers always wished the strike force good luck and, soldiers being superstitious, it was considered a bad omen if some mechanical problem prevented the captain's message from being relayed to the troops.

  Cain watched the bay doors open and then heard the whining hum as the catapults powered up and launched the landers out into the upper atmosphere of Columbia. This "real" simulated attack had been preceded by a completely fake bombardment that had inflicted considerable phantom losses on the defenders. Cain's target selection had been brilliant and unorthodox. He was attacking an entrenched enemy with no numerical advantage, a no-win scenario. The point of the exercise wasn't for Cain's forces to win, but rather to see how far they could get. But Erik Cain wasn't wired that way. If he was going in, he was going in to win.

  He watched the initial wave descending to the surface, taking simulated losses from hidden ground-based weapons. His theoretical warships scanned the surface aggressively, targeting any emplacement that fired on the landers and blasting it immediately. He had two full simulated battlegroups supporting the landing.

  They won't know what to make of it, he thought with wry amusement. General Holm, maybe, but nobody in 2nd Brigade. His landing was as unorthodox as his bombardment, and he was sure it would give Brigadier Slavin fits which, of course, was just what he wanted.

  It looked like everything was going according to plan, so he turned away from the monitors and headed down to the launch bay to suit up. The general had forbidden him from landing in the first wave, but he hadn't said anything about the second...

  Cain's command post was a beehive of activity. Communications were coming in from all over the field. Slavin's forces, which were supposed to be defending, had been maneuvered into counter-attacking, and they were throwing themselves against Cain's hastily dug trenches.

  His first wave had been small, and he'd landed them in an unexpected area, beyond the ridge north and east of the capital city of Weston. Erik knew those canyons well. The last time he'd led troops on Columbia he'd eaten a nuke just a few klicks east of the LZ. He'd survived by the thinnest of margins and spent a year in the hospital recovering.

  The second wave he held back for a long time, and when he finally launched, he landed them right in the broad plain in front of Weston, a glaringly obvious point of attack, and the one the CAC had used eight years before when Cain was a sergeant and Elias Holm a colonel in command of the last ditch defense of the planet.

  But Erik didn't attack. He ordered his forces to establish a defensive line stretching between the northern and southern ridgelines, and he began to dig in. He set up every heavy weapon he had and started to return the fire the enemy had been dishing out since the landing.

  The defenders had been deployed almost entirely in front of the city, and when Cain's first wave hit the ground on the other side of the steep ridgeline, General Slavin sent a battalion through the pass and then back west to meet them. But Cain's main landing had cut them off in the canyon, and he sent a force to hit them from behind. Pinned between his two groups of attackers, they were cut to pieces.

  Several of Cain's landers in the first wave had suffered apparent guidance errors, and a number of ships went off course, landing in seemingly random locations as far as 5 klicks from the designated zone.

  The defenders disregarded them, assuming they were just the victims of malfunctions, but Cain had sent his elite company with the first wave, and out of the errant landers climbed squad after squad of his specially trained infiltration unit. In small groups they followed their tactical plan, making their way over the mountainous ridge and into the city itself, unnoticed by the defenders.

  The third wave of attackers landed behind the south ridgeline, opposite the LZ of the first group. Cain now had the defending position bracketed, his main force hastily entrenched in front of them, and flanking forces advancing over the ridgelines on both sides. Worse, General Slavin started getting communications from Weston; Cain's special action teams had infiltrated the city. There were armored Marines standing around in front of power stations, data centers, and every other vital facility. No one had anticipated any attacking units reaching Weston, and the parameters provided to the AI running the wargame had not included directives for this eventuality.

  Along the ridgelines, Cain's flanking forces set up positions to fire down upon the defenders, who were now attacking the main invasion force in the plain attempting to break out of the trap. Cain's troops along the ridges raked the flanks of the enemy, and simulated casualties mounted quickly. All through Slavin's forces, Marines were told by their AIs that they were casualties. The armor of the "dead" Marines initiated a partial shutdown, leaving them lying motionless to await the end of the battle.

  General Holm had been watching the action unfold from his headquarters, and he tried to stifle a laugh. Cain was his protégé, and everyone knew it, but it wouldn't do for the commanding general to appear to be taking sides. Still, he couldn't help but be amused as he watched Erik's forces run circles around Slavin's defenders. Holm had given permission for Cain to create the special action teams from his veterans, but even he had never thought about how effectively they could be utilized.

  Simulated losses were less than 550 for Cain's attackers, while the defenders had lost 1,700, almost half their number. Holm was going to put a stop to the exercise, but he figured he'd wait for the AI to call it. When that happened a few minutes later, Holm got on the comlink and addressed all of the participating troops.

  "To all personnel participating in the exercise, this is General Holm. The strategy AI has called the battle, awarding a decisive victory to the attacking force." Decisive indeed, he thought with a small laugh. How about a rout? "I want to congratulate and thank everyone who participated. Those who have been immobilized as casualties should have suit power restored within five minutes. At that time, battalion commanders are to direct the return of troops to billets. Command personnel from battalion level up, we will have a briefing tomorrow at 1000 hours and review the exercise. Holm out."

  Holm switched his com to a direct link to Cain. "Erik, did you have to smack them around so badly?" He laughed again. "Seriously, that was an outstanding performance."

  "Thank you, sir." Cain sounded tired

  "Come see me after you stow your gear and grab a shower. I want to discuss a few things, including your special action teams. We can have some dinner sent in. No rush, though. I'll be h
ere late, so take your time."

  "Yes sir."

  Holm flipped off the comlink, still trying to suppress his smile.

  Cain walked across the quad toward the general's HQ. He was freshly showered and dressed in a clean pair of fatigues. It was dark already, maybe 2300 local time. He was starting to get used to the 27 hour local day. He'd just gotten the casualty figures - the real ones, not the simulated ones. Three dead from accidents during the exercise, another two seriously wounded. The fact that all three were from General Slavin's group didn't make him feel any better.

  Lieutenant Raynor was expecting him. Cain smiled and wondered, does this kid ever sleep? Holm's orderly led Erik back to the general's office, and with a quick salute he ducked out into the hall, closing the door behind him.

  Cain gave the general his own salute, which was actually a pretty good one for a change. Holm was talking into a small comlink, but he waved over toward the small table in the back corner, which was laid out with a light dinner. Erik nodded and walked over, taking one of the seats.

  A few seconds later, Holm finished his call and walked to the table. Erik started to get up, but the general motioned for him to sit. "So what did Lieutenant Raynor scrounge up for dinner?" He reached over and pulled the top off of one of the trays as he sat down. It was filled with some sort of grilled fish. The Columbian seafood was excellent, and the general loved fish. There were also plates of vegetables as well as a local growth that resembled Earth mushrooms. "I told him light. I figured he'd go find some sandwiches."

  Erik smiled. "I'm trying to remember if I was ever that young and earnest."

  "Oh, you were. I remember a very young and memorable sergeant I ran across some years back." Holm smiled and speared a large chunk of fish, dropping it on his plate. "And you, my friend, are still every bit as earnest as anyone in this corps."

  Erik laughed softly, taking a piece of fish for himself, smaller than the one the general had picked. "So am I in trouble for exceeding mission parameters? I'll have you know that there was nothing in the mission book that precluded an infiltration of Weston."

  Holm snorted just as he was taking a drink. "Under a different commander, you'd be in trouble on a semi-permanent basis." He wiped his mouth with his napkin. "I, being a glutton for punishment, wish I had five of you." He took another bite, swallowing before he continued. "Erik, your special action teams looked great out there. I'm glad you badgered me into letting you train them."

  "I was happy with them as well. I felt I had a range of options for using them." His eyes narrowed as he looked at the general. "Especially when I'm given an exercise I'm supposed to lose."

  "You should know more than anyone, not every situation is a fair or reasonable one. God knows, you've been in a few hopeless fights yourself, yet here you are."

  Erik looked wistful. "Yes, here I am. But a lot of the guys who were there with me aren't."

  The general sighed. "Erik, we talked about this before. You can't carry the guilt for every soldier that gets killed under your command. Have you ever thought about how many of them you've pulled through a tough fight? They'd be at war with or without you. But I suspect a lot more of them would be dead on some desolate planet if they hadn't had you." He stared over at Cain, trying to stress his point. "Anyway, we'll discuss this further another day. For now, I want to fill you in on some intel I just received."

  Cain stopped chewing and looked up at the general. "New intel?"

  "Yes. I finally have some idea why we haven't had to deal with the South Americans yet. Apparently, Alliance Intelligence managed to get a double agent inside their command structure and really mess up their logistics. The agent's been compromised, but Intel estimates a minimum of six month's prep time before the empire can launch any major offensive."

  "Well that's good news." Cain put his hand up and rubbed his mouth. "I just wish we weren't sitting here playing games while we have this window. We could finish Sherman in less than six months if we had the naval support."

  Holm smiled broadly. "I have one more bit of news." Cain looked over expectantly. "I am going to make an announcement tomorrow, but I'll let you in on it early. The Caliphate and CAC launched a massive attack on Gliese 250."

  Cain felt his stomach tense. Losing Gliese would really set them back. Erik himself had led the surprise attack that had seized the huge space station, and subsequently General Holm had conquered several chains of systems leading out from there. The Gliese attack, and the subsequent campaigns, had been the turning point of the war.

  "Admiral Garret smashed the attack. From the preliminary figures it looks like he took out around 40% of their strength. It was a rout." Holm smiled broadly.

  Cain's face changed rapidly from apprehension to shock to gratification. "That's great news, General." Then more somberly. "How bad were his losses?"

  "That's the best part. They were heavy for sure, but nothing like what he inflicted. He didn't lose a single capital ship, though it sounds like the Leyte is pretty close to a writeoff. Some of the escort squadrons took it hard, and it sounds like the station took some bad hits in the final stages of the battle."

  Cain was speechless. He knew Garret was a great naval commander, but it sounded like he'd taken on all that two Superpowers could throw at him and wrecked it. If the victory was as complete as it sounded, the Alliance just might be able to win this war decisively.

  "Admiral Garret is putting together a scratch task force from the less-damaged fleet units and leaving Gliese for Columbia immediately. He'll be here in seven weeks. In eight we're restarting Sherman."

  "That gives us four months," Cain said. "Four months for three planetary assaults. It's tight. You think we can do it?"

  Holm smiled. "I've been working on the revised schedule for the past two hours. I think we can just make it."

  "I'll get started on prep for the brigade tomorrow." Cain had lost interest in dinner. He was ready to get back to his own office and start working.

  "No, Erik." Cain looked up with a start. "I don't want you to get mired in details. Let Jax handle the prep for both regiments. We've been ready for months; there isn't that much to do. I want you to spend the next two months expanding the special action teams. You've got a company of them. I want you to expand it to a battalion."

  Cain was surprised. "General, I don't have nearly enough veterans for that. If I strip that many experienced men from the brigade it will impair combat efficiency."

  "Which is why I have authorized you to appropriate personnel from any formation in I Corps, even the British and Oceanian formations. Just don't take too many from any one battalion. But get yourself enough for two more companies. And find a good captain you want to bump to major to put in direct command of the whole crew."

  Cain's mind was racing. The special action teams were his pet project, and now he was going to be able to expand it to a size that could really make a difference in battle. "Warren's going to object." The political officer had questioned why Cain had a specially trained elite company with no authorization from the high command. He had suggested, with considerable insistence, that training an elite force to a high level of proficiency was demoralizing to the rank and file. Erik couldn't have disagreed more, but he kept his comments to himself.

  "Don't worry. If he gives you a hard time just tell him you are following my orders. He'll whine to my babysitter, and I'll figure out a nice way to tell him to go fuck himself."

  "You should have been a diplomat, sir."

  Holm laughed. "Maybe after the war."

  Chapter 5

  CAC Central Committee HQ

  Hong Kong, Earth

  Liang Chang paced nervously on the polished marble floor outside the Central Committee Hall. His dress uniform was almost absurdly ornate, green with gold epaulettes and braid. CAC field gear was generally practical and utilitarian; their formal uniforms, however, were quite theatrical.

  Liang was the supreme field commander of the Combine's interstellar navy, a post he
wasn't at all sure he'd keep for more than the next few minutes. Truthfully, he wasn't sure he'd keep his head. More than one CAC commander had found his way to an unmarked grave after a defeat, and Liang had just presided over the worst one in living memory. Fortunately, it was more of a Caliphate defeat than a CAC one; his forces had been an allied contingent under joint command.

  At least they want to talk to you, he thought. He wouldn't have been surprised if the internal security men had grabbed him right off the transport and dumped him in the harbor. He glanced at his chronometer and was shocked to realize he'd only been waiting five minutes. It felt like he'd been there much longer.

  The gold-plated doors slid open suddenly, and a Committee Guard in a spotless red uniform walked out into the foyer. "Admiral Liang? The Committee will see you now." He stood aside and gestured for Liang to enter.

  Liang took a deep breath and marched into the room. There was a massive semi-circular desk spanning the distance halfway around the outside edge of the room. Seated in the twelve spots were six men wearing various military uniforms, five clad in expensive civilian attire, and one woman wearing a finely tailored, moderately masculine suit. Liang walked over to the seat in the middle of the room and stood beside it, rigidly at attention.

  "Admiral Liang, the Committee has summoned you to report on the events of the recent battle in the Gliese 250 system." The speaker was one of the civilians. Not good, thought Liang. Protocol called for one of the officers to address him first.

  "The combined Caliphate-CAC forces engaged significantly outnumbered the defending Alliance fleet, did they not?" There was an edge to the questioning, but not outright hostility. I'm not lost yet, Liang thought.