Crimson Worlds Collection I

by Jay Allan

  The Pendragon had been decelerating at 4g for almost a day when the ship went into freefall along with the rest of the first wave of transports. They'd been cleared for orbital insertion, and were on their final approach to Carson's World.

  They had been compelled to wait several days longer than expected before transiting into Epsilon Eridani. Admiral Compton had been suspicious when he had found no enemy force waiting to engage him, and he'd repeatedly postponed the transports' entry while he scanned the entire area between the warp gate and the planet.

  Compton had found debris from the battle that had been fought here several months before. The fortresses, which had been substantial defensive works, were gutted wrecks...dead hulks still orbiting the planet. It was clear that a major fight had occurred here; there were ruined, lifeless ships and debris scattered over a wide area.

  The admiral had half a dozen ships out collecting and analyzing the debris. In the absence of any friendly or enemy forces, the wreckage was his best hope of reconstructing what had happened here. Meanwhile, though his gut was still flashing him a dire warning, he could think of no further reasons to delay the landings without violating his orders outright.

  The Pendragon, carrying Erik Cain and his special action battalion, slid into orbit alongside her brethren, and launched a spread of planetary probes. The entire transport fleet was doing the same, sending small drones into the atmosphere of Carson's World, scanning for enemy positions and troop concentrations.

  The battle computers would analyze the data from a thousand probes and create a projection of enemy strength on the ground. As Erik knew from long and often bitter experience, it would be a relatively unreliable guide to what they would face. There were just too many places to hide troops on an entire planet, too many ways to interfere with scans. The heavy elements present on a mining world like Epsilon Eridani IV interfered with detection devices, making it even more difficult to create accurate estimates. Then-Colonel Holm had used this fact to devastating effect during the last ditch defense of Columbia a few years back, and Erik himself had been with the hidden forces that had surprised the CAC invaders.

  Carson's World no longer had a civilian population, so the Pendragon and other assault ships were able to conduct a heavy orbital bombardment, targeting troop concentrations identified by the probes. The enemy had built some hasty strongpoints, and the fleet blasted them hard, dropping small nuclear warheads on the toughest positions. Job one for the orbital assault was to clear out as much of the enemy's air interdiction capability as possible so the landing craft and atmospheric fighters weren't overwhelmed by fire from the ground. If ground units were also depleted or disordered, that was a bonus.

  The bombardment lasted only a few hours, and then the guns and launchers of the assault ships fell silent. It was time for men and woman to take ground the old fashioned way, meter by meter.

  A tight beam laser communication link connected the Saratoga, positioned 100,000 kilometers from the planet with the heavy assault ship Tinian, currently in orbit. On an encrypted line, two men were having a final discussion before the landing craft were launched.

  "Something is off, Elias. I'm sure of it." Compton was uneasy, and it came through in his tone. It took just under a second for the transmission to reach Holm's ship and the same for his response to get back to Saratoga. Compton was used to the hitch in these types of communications, but he still found it irritating, especially when he was already tense. He'd have preferred to meet face to face with Holm, but they both had jobs to do and no time for the indulgence of shuttling back and forth.

  "I've had misgivings since I got these orders on Columbia." Holm paused briefly, exacerbating the delay on Compton's end. "There is a lot about this mission we just don't know, but I don't see any options. Our orders are crystal clear."

  Holm sat at his desk, alone for the moment, though he'd found it increasingly difficult to shake his political officer. Colonel Killian was a cut above the other liaison officers, and Holm kept reminding himself not to underestimate the man. Most of the others seemed to be Political Academy graduates of relative obscurity, but Killian's family was very well placed; he even had an uncle in the Senate. Clearly, I Corps commander had been considered worthy of a true watchdog.

  "You're right. We don't have a choice. I delayed on my end as long as I could. We've got to start your landings, but I can't believe there isn't more down there than a reinforced CAC brigade. If we're not missing something, Alliance Intelligence really screwed the pooch by sending so much force here."

  "I'm sure they have some surprises for us down there," Holm replied. "Whatever is hiding planetside, my people will dig it out; I'm sure of that." He let out a deep breath. "I've got to get to work, Terrance. I'm commencing my landing in 90 minutes."

  "Very well." Compton's voice was tense. He'd been as careful as possible, taken every precaution he could think of...but still he couldn't shake the feeling that something was terribly wrong. "The fleet is in position, and I have scoutships conducting a deeper probe of the system." He hesitated then added, "And Elias?"

  "Yes, Terrance?"

  "Be careful."

  “You too, my friend.”

  Chapter 14

  Launch Bay Alpha

  AS Pendragon

  In orbit around Epsilon Eridani IV

  The launch bay felt a little surreal to Cain as he stood bolted into the lander awaiting the final launch countdown. A lifetime ago, another Erik Cain stood in a lander waiting to launch out into this very airspace. My god, he thought, has it really been fourteen years? Was I ever that young?

  He'd come full circle. Carson's World had been the site of his first mission, and he'd walked into the launch bay back then as a junior private, sweating with fear and desperately trying to remember everything he'd learned in training. The fear was still there; anyone sane would be afraid, though he'd learned to temper it and push it out of his mind. But the training had become second nature and the years of experience had transformed him forever.

  Will Thompson had been the senior private in the squad on that first raid, and he'd looked out for Cain, then and later on too. More than anyone, Thompson had helped turn that raw recruit into a competent Marine. He was Cain's first real friend in the Corps, and he'd guided Erik not just on the battlefield, but also about many small things, like how to make life on a spaceship tolerable. They'd served together for three years until Thompson was wounded during the disastrous Operation Achilles, an event that left Cain in command of the squad.

  Thompson had gone to the Academy after his recovery, but he was badly injured again, this time in a training accident, and he did another year in the hospital. He retired out of the service shortly after that, and though he had never finished his Academy training, he was mustered out as a lieutenant. Erik had heard he'd settled down on Arcadia, but he wasn't certain.

  The support Erik had gotten from the more experienced men and women of the squad made an enormous impression on the young soldier. It was the first time in his life he'd seen people working selflessly together, and he was determined to pay his debt to his old comrades by helping those who came after him. As Cain advanced through the ranks he had never forgotten the way he'd been welcomed into the squad, and he committed himself to watching over the troops under his command, using all his experience and training to help them survive on the battlefield. And the ones that didn't make it, the ones Cain felt he'd failed - they lived with him, tugging at his conscience in the night.

  The first time he had bolted himself into a lander to assault Carson's World he had been blissfully without command responsibility. He didn't question why he was there, didn't even worry about what they were doing. All he had to think about was following orders from his team and squad leaders.

  This time his burdens were far greater. An entire brigade was dropping with him - 3,600 - troops, and he was responsible for every one of them. They were the vanguard, the spearpoint of the 45,000-strong I Corps, and they were about
to launch on a mission that had Cain very worried.

  He felt the Pendragon shake; it was the atmospheric fighters launching from their bay in the belly of the great ship. Pendragon carried a squadron of six, and they were going down to strafe and bomb the landing area before his troops hit the ground. It was another testament to the escalation of battles in this war. The last time he was on Carson's World the Marines had no such supporting arms - not even a tank or an artillery piece, and certainly no aircraft. Other than their expended Gordon landers providing limited supporting fire, it was just the Marines on foot. Cain hadn't even seen an atmospheric fighter until Operation Achilles, though the pilots earned their pay in that debacle, saving the invasion force from being overrun more than once. In doing it, they'd actually managed to suffer a higher casualty rate than the ground-pounders, who had lost over 80% killed and wounded. No Marine who fought in Achilles ever said a negative word about pilots after that battle, and anyone who did in their presence was likely to buy a world of hurt.

  The Pendragon's launch bays were a scene of meticulous efficiency. Cain had led some excellent troops before, but never anything quite like the battalion billeted with him on Pendragon. There wasn't a soldier onboard who had not made at least five assaults. The special action teams had started as an elite company, trained by Erik Cain as a reaction force. When they'd contributed to humiliating the 2nd Brigade in a series of wargames, the general had asked Erik to expand the force to battalion strength. He'd swept every formation in I Corps, armed with Holm's authority to appropriate any personnel he felt he needed. He suspected a few of the other unit commanders had made some disparaging and anatomically improbable remarks as he absconded with their veterans, but in fact he was very restrained and only took a few from each formation.

  Now his elite force was going to get its true test, not just in battle, but executing the special mission General Holm had given Erik. There was some reason I Corps had been sent to retake Carson's World, something that was being hidden from them. They were going to find out what it was, and they were going to do it without calling attention to themselves.

  "Initiating final launch countdown." The tinny voice of the battle computer roused Cain out of his introspection. "Depressurizing launch bay."

  Cain's blast shield snapped shut, blocking his view of the landing bay. He couldn't see or feel it, of course, but he knew that they were being pressure-coated with heat resistant foam. A few seconds later the outer doors opened.

  "Good luck, Marines!" Cain had heard a ship captain give that sendoff more times than he could remember. It was a tradition almost as old as man fighting in space, and one that was universally loved. He couldn't explain it, but it was inspiring. Even after all his battles, it still worked its magic on him; the effect on the less experienced troops was enormous.

  Cain gritted his teeth just before the catapult blasted the lander out of the ship and into the upper atmosphere of Carson's World. Even in armor, every bone in his body felt the jarring as the magnetic launch catapult rapidly accelerated the Gordon down the guiding track and out of the Pendragon's bay.

  Enemy fire was very light; the orbital bombardment had been extremely effective, and the atmospheric fighters were flying sorties against any missile launcher or weapons platform that gave away its location. The enemy took some potshots, but nothing that seriously threatened the landing.

  The lander zigzagged its way to the surface, executing the wild evasive maneuvers designed to thwart enemy fire. The heat resistant foam began to blacken and break away as the atmospheric density increased. Cain had been through this dozens of times, but he still felt a small thrill when the blast shield snapped back and he could see again.

  Sixteen minutes after launch the Gordon fired its breaking thrusters, and they set down gently in the middle of a large, open plain. The locking bolts retracted, and the Marines onboard snapped right out of their harnesses, moving out and taking a position around the lander, ready for action. They were pretty sure there were no enemy troops within range, but carelessness is how Marines end up dead, and these were veterans.

  Cain looked out over the terrain. All around the lander, the greenish-yellow fungus that covered the ground was burned and blackened from the heat of the thrusters. Looking up he could see Gordons coming down all over the field, with an LZ every quarter klick. It looked like the landing was going perfectly, and Erik let himself imagine that all his people got down to the surface safely for once...an illusion he was only able to maintain for a few minutes before he got the report of the first fatality. Fire had been very light, but one of the Gordon's had taken a hit coming in. The computer tried to land the ship but lost it on the final approach, and it crashed, killing six of the ten Marines onboard.

  His people were the first wave, and their primary mission was to secure the LZs for the rest of I Corps. General Holm and the battle computer had put together an operations plan, which Cain's troops were now executing. Flawlessly executing, he thought proudly, looking out over the plain. His troops were very well trained, and his officers and non-coms were experienced professionals who didn't need him hovering over their every move. He could see his teams deploying in every direction, staking out the LZs, and taking up defensive positions in case the enemy made any moves against the landing. For the moment, Cain found he had little to do.

  "I must commend you on the efficiency and professionalism of your landing, Colonel." Kind words, but an unwelcome voice. Captain Warren.

  "Thank you, Captain. My men and women deserve the credit." He hoped he hadn't spat out the words with the contempt he felt for the man. In truth, he didn't really care, but he knew it would make life easier if he treated the officious prick with some superficial respect. Not that he found it easy.

  "They have indeed been well-trained. No military force in history has ever received a level of support comparable to that provided by Alliance Gov to the Corps."

  Somehow Cain knew the little bureaucrat would turn things around and give the government the credit. Most of the troops now deploying so efficiently had been lost souls crushed under the jackboot of that same Alliance Gov, and they were saved from a life of deprivation and despair only because they had the good fortune to be flagged as likely Marine recruits. But Cain held his tongue. No good could come from debating politics with Warren.

  "Captain, I am pleased that you are impressed with the performance of our troops, but I'm afraid I am very busy with the landing, so if you will excuse me for the moment?" He was lying; he actually had very little to do. But he could only take so much of the political officer at one time.

  "Of course, Colonel. Please do not let me interfere with your duties."

  Cain nodded, a gesture that lost something in powered armor and trotted off. He started out just walking in any direction to get away from Warren, but he found himself heading toward Jax's LZ. His people were coming down now, and they should be on the ground by the time Erik reached their assigned position.

  Colonel Darius Jax jogged up to the location his scouts had reported. He wanted to have a look around for himself. Jogging in armor was actually a fairly complicated activity that looked a little like ice skating. A normal running motion would result in huge bounding jumps, courtesy of the amplified servo-mechanical systems of the powered armor. The jogger had to move side to side to keep low, and on the battlefield, you usually wanted to keep low.

  He could see as he neared the designated coordinates that there had indeed been fighting here. The ground was torn up, and the scrubby yellow fungus was blackened and burnt. There was the debris of war everywhere...weapons, shattered pieces of armor, and as he got closer to the designated coordinates, bodies.

  "See, sir?" Lieutenant Clark commed Jax as he approached the cluster of scouts standing on a low hill. "I thought the garrison had been withdrawn."

  "They were withdrawn." Jax pulled up next to the scouts and stopped. He was half a head taller than any of them.

  "Then who fought here, sir?" That
was Sergeant Lunden. Technically, he shouldn't be reporting directly to Jax with the lieutenant there, but scouts were by nature less formal with the chain of command. And Jax didn't give a shit for protocol; if one of his troopers had something to say he wanted to hear it.

  "That's an excellent question, Sergeant." He took a few steps, looking around for himself. "Lieutenant, I want your people to take a closer look around. Get me any data you can on whatever happened here."

  "Yes, Colonel Jax." Clark motioned to his team. "Let's go. Spread out and look around. I want to know what happened here." He took a few steps, then added, "Let's get video of this while area."

  Jax watched them move down the hillside then told his AI to get Cain on the comlink.

  "Right here, you big ox."

  Jax turned to see Cain walking up the hill toward him. "Erik, we've got something interesting over here." He motioned over the crest of the hill. "Come take a look at this."

  Cain walked up next to Jax and looked out over the field below the hill. "There must be a hundred bodies down there." He stared for a few more seconds. "No, more than a hundred."

  "This planet was supposed to be deserted when the CAC took it, right?" Jax's deep voice boomed loudly in Cain's helmet. "So who were they fighting?"

  Cain frowned then realized Jax couldn't see his face. One of the harder things to get used to about fighting in powered armor is effectively losing the entire lexicon of facial expressions as modes of communication. It's easy to forget how often a smile or a stare gets a point across. "That's a good question." Short pause. "Here's another one. Why aren't they making any effort at all to oppose our landing?"