by Jay Allan
“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 intimidating.
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 in
coming 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.”
The CAC’s venerable spymaster had instilled considerable fear in the Coalition’s senior officers, and she also knew what was hidden in the mountains of Carson’s World. Dieng’s orders were clear; they expressly forbade retreat. If he obeyed he might die in battle, but if he withdrew he’d likely face a far more unpleasant death at the hands of C1’s interrogators. Worse, if he was branded a traitor his family would join him in Li An’s chamber of horrors.
Santos and Maret had agreed that they would counter Garret’s truce offer with a proposal that the entire fleet, including CAC and Caliphate units, withdraw from the system. Neither admiral liked the idea of abandoning allies, even tenuous new ones, but neither was prepared to commit their forces to a fight to the death over a planet of no apparent importance. They’d been sent to participate in an ambush, not a battle of attrition, and certainly not against the legendary Admiral Garret commanding a force of superbattleships. They were prepared to try to bluff Garret into letting them all leave, but Dieng’s refusal put an end to that option.
“My choice, at least, is clear. Honor is satisfied and Dieng has chosen his own fate. I cannot expose my task force to possible annihilation, especially as Prince de Conde has already been heavily damaged. I will accept Garret’s terms.” Maret had been under secret orders to conserve his forces; Europa Federalis was already at war with the German-dominated Central European League, and they could not afford serious losses, especially in capital ships.
“Indeed, Admiral Maret, I concur.” Santos was a member of the Imperial family and as such he was well aware of the parlous financial condition of the empire. This fight had already cost him a battleship, and he knew the Imperial Navy could not afford further losses, especially not in a fringe system nowhere close to the worlds the empire sought to acquire. “I, too, will accept the admiral’s terms. I propose that we send a joint communication.” He paused briefly. “Let us extricate our forces from this mess.”
Garret shifted uncomfortably in his command chair, unsuccessfully trying to angle his body in some way that didn’t hurt. It had been almost 90 minutes since he’d sent his truce offer, and he was about to give up and start preparing for the massive fight to come.
“Sir, incoming message from Admiral Maret.” Lieutenant Simon turned to face Garret as she spoke. “Transferring to your headset.”
There was a brief delay, then Maret’s voice came through in ac
cented, but extremely passable English. “Admiral Garret. I wish to offer my best wishes and those of Fleet Admiral de Santos.” Maret’s voice paused. He was probably figuring out how to tell an enemy he’s happy he isn’t really dead, thought Garret, amused. “I had been shocked to hear of your demise, and I am gratified to see that these reports were in error.”
Garret smiled. We may try to kill each other, he thought, but that’s no reason not to be polite. Sometimes I think we are under the impression this is all a game and not the deadly business it really is. Yet he knew that he, too, often participated in the same farce.
“If you are prepared to provide adequate assurances that we will be allowed to leave this system and return with all speed to our respective nations’ space, both Fleet Admiral de Santos and I are prepared to accept your terms.”
Garret let out a deep breath; he was glad they were communicating at long-range and not sitting together at a table where his adversaries would have seen the relief he felt. He usually had a good poker face, but he really preferred to avoid a difficult fight with his green troops and brand new ships, and it showed. He carefully put together his response, providing specific instructions to the Europan and Imperial commanders and transmitted it.
After the allied contingents departed, the outcome of the battle for Epsilon Eridani was never in doubt. The CAC and Caliphate ships put up a hard fight, badly damaging Saratoga again and seriously wounding Compton, but they were outgunned and systematically destroyed. Garret was relentless, pursuing every enemy vessel as it tried to flee. Now there wasn’t a CAC or Caliphate ship left in the system. The Alliance owned Epsilon Eridani space. The cost had been high, but not nearly as bad as it might have been.
Now Garret was going to call General Holm. Space was theirs; now it was time to deal with the surface.
Chapter 28