Crimson Worlds Collection I

by Jay Allan

  I Corps HQ

  Durang Valley

  Epsilon Eridani IV

  Darius Jax walked painfully toward a large modular structure set in the middle of a cluster of similar but smaller buildings. He was limping and leaning on a cane to take some weight off his right leg, but he was happy to be out of bed – or the pile of rags that had passed for one. He’d expected Sarah to give him a hard time about leaving, but her hospital was so overcrowded, she’d sent him away with a hug and instructions to “go bother Erik instead of me.”

  He’d checked on some of 1st Brigade’s wounded before he left. Most of them seemed to be doing well, despite the difficult conditions in the hospital. Even Lieutenant Marek looked like he was going to recover fully, though he would spend considerable time at Armstrong Medical in the regeneration ward before he returned to duty. Jax had thought Marek was done, but Sarah had worked on him herself, and somehow she’d managed to repair enough of the nuke-inflicted damage to stabilize him.

  Jax looked up at the sign above the door. Someone had scrawled I Corps by hand. He laughed to himself, but laughing still hurt, so he stopped abruptly. Someone could have gotten a better sign for the HQ of the largest ground force the Alliance ever deployed in space, he thought, still amused.

  He walked up to the door, staring into the retinal scanner for clearance. After a delay of a second or two, the door popped open, allowing him to enter. He walked through, shuffling slowly down the corridor to the conference room.

  “Look what just walked in!” Cain’s voice was cheerful, more so than it had been since I Corps had landed on Carson’s World. He glanced at Jax’s cane and the heavy cast still on his right foot. “And I use the word walk loosely.” He leapt to his feet and embraced his enormous friend. “It is good to have you back, Jax.”

  “It’s good to be back.” Jax scanned the room. Seated around the table were the senior officers of the corps, at least the ones healthy enough to be there. General Gilson sat along the far wall, leaning at an odd angle, trying to keep the weight off the sorest areas of her battered body. Gilson had been another troublesome patient Sarah was only too happy to send on her way once she was out of danger.

  The political officers were all there too. Most of I Corps command staff had managed to maintain better relations with their minders than Cain had, but none of them really got along, and there was an overall feeling of discomfort. Holm found the whole thing very upsetting; he’d put an enormous amount of effort into forging a team that enjoyed mutual respect and worked well together, and the assignment of the political officers had stripped away that comfortable environment. He didn’t appreciate the added stress on his people.

  Captain Warren sat on the opposite side of the room from Cain with an expression on his face that could curdle milk. He avoided looking over at Erik and remained silent during the entire meeting. Cain simply ignored the political officer as if he didn’t exist.

  “I want to thank you all for coming.” General Holm stood at the head of the large table and looked out at his assembled staff. He was wearing gray duty fatigues; they all were. Sarah had given the all-clear regarding the supposed pathogen that had wiped out the population. Whatever it was there was no sign of it in her multiple tests, so with combat operations ending Holm could allow his people to shed their armor. Living in a fighting suit for weeks on end was almost unbearable, and Holm’s announcement was met with universal acclaim.

  “It has been an extraordinary campaign.” The general’s voice was slightly hoarse. There’d been no heavy combat for over a week, but he had still been overwhelmed with tasks, and he was tired…tired to the bone. “I just wanted to assemble you all to tell you personally how proud I am of I Corps. We faced extremely difficult and unexpected conditions here, and at no time did any of our personnel perform with less than total professionalism and preparedness.”

  The officers in the room were grizzled veterans, but Holm’s praise touched them all. They had fought together on multiple worlds, and they had become a cohesive team. Forged in the inferno of some of the most brutal fighting in history, and led by a man they trusted utterly, they had evolved into the most elite fighting force ever deployed. Their enemies had set a trap for them here, one that was foolproof on paper. But I Corps didn’t cooperate; they didn’t yield to the mathematics that mandated their defeat, and they overcame the odds to survive and ultimately prevail.

  After Cain’s stand on the plateau, and the subsequent breakthrough by the Scottish brigade, the enemy’s lines were compromised, and they fell back 100 kilometers to regroup. I Corps had suffered heavy losses, but the carnage they had inflicted on the enemy was far worse. The Imperial and Europan units, mostly raw and untested, were not remotely prepared for the intensity of the fighting.

  When Admiral Garret and General Holm broadcast the lenient surrender terms, it was almost impossible for their commanders to refuse. The CAC and Caliphate leaders, commanding veteran units and facing dire consequences if they failed, tried to intimidate their allies into continuing the fight. It took a tense few days of negotiations, but in the end, 55,000 Europan and Imperial troops marched out and surrendered.

  The CAC and Caliphate hardcore units dug in, however, and refused to give up. No longer strong enough to take the offensive, they dared the Alliance forces to dig them out of their mountainous strongpoints. They were motivated to hold out. The officers faced harsh reprisals if they surrendered. Their orders were clear; they were to hold Epsilon Eridani IV at all costs. All costs.

  The engagement transformed from a pitched battle to a series of costly search and destroy missions against scattered enemy positions. The Alliance forces were re-provisioned by the returned supply and transport fleet, while the CAC and Caliphate holdouts were cut off.

  Cain commanded 1st Division, or what was left of it. General Gilson had been in the hospital and Brigadier Slavin was dead. The special action battalion was assigned to onsite security at the cave, and the rest of the division was taken out of the line and assigned to guard the prisoners until they could be loaded onto transports and shipped out.

  Holm assigned 2nd Division and the Oceanian units to dig out the last of the defending units. The outcome of the battle was no longer in doubt, but there was still a month of brutal fighting before the general was able to declare combat operations concluded.

  He looked out over the assembled officers, their job done, at least for now. With Garret’s victory in space and the total defeat of the enemy ground forces, it was possible they had won the climactic victory of the war. Though no one dared say it out loud, everyone present wondered if the fruit of this victory might be peace.

  “I Corps will be remaining here indefinitely, so we’re going to start reorganizing and rebuilding. We will be expanding our facilities here significantly to accommodate a long term presence, so we have hard work ahead, though I daresay it will be a little easier than the work we have done to date.” The officers around the table smiled grimly. The work they had done had been difficult indeed, and costly.

  Holm reached down and picked up the cup that had been sitting on the table in front of his seat. He motioned for the other to rise and do the same. “To our fallen brothers and sisters.” He raised his glass as his officers repeated his toast.

  Still holding his cup aloft Holm smiled. “And to the Corps. Now and forever!”

  Chapter 29

  C1 Headquarters Building

  Wan Chai, Hong Kong

  Central Asian Combine, Earth

  Li An sat at her desk, a crystal glass of bourbon sitting untouched off to the side. She was frustrated and angry. Her plans, so carefully prepared and well-conceived, had completely unraveled. “Liang, you incompetent fool. You almost succeeded in your mission and you threw it away and let Garret escape in a lifeboat?” She was taking to herself, her voice soft but dripping with anger and bitterness. “If I get my hands on you, hell itself will be a relief when I finally let you die.” Garret’s survival, and his subsequent
actions, had turned her grand plan in Epsilon Eridani into a total disaster. They had been on the verge of a stunning success; instead, they lost the war there.

  Liang was, by all accounts, a prisoner of the Alliance now. Not only had he allowed Garret to escape the trap she’d so carefully planned, he’d managed to get his task force obliterated as he withdrew. He’s probably in one of Stark’s dungeons, she thought, giving up every secret he has. She couldn’t even take it out on his family. His parents were dead, and his wife was the daughter of a Committee member. And the last thing Li An needed now was more trouble with the Committee. She knew where enough bodies were buried to survive this, but there was no question that the series of debacles had seriously damaged her position.

  The war had been a disaster. The CAC navy had been virtually destroyed, and its ground forces were sorely depleted. It would take years, and financial resources they didn’t have, to recover. The Caliphate was also prostrate, crippled by the loss of the vital resource-producing worlds that had been its primary source of wealth.

  Europa Federalis and the Empire had made their own peace, quickly accepting the lenient terms offered by the Alliance. But the treaty being negotiated at the Ares Metroplex was anything but lenient. The Alliance was dominant, its victory decisive. The CAC and Caliphate would pay dearly for the peace both desperately needed.

  Worst of all, the Alliance had control of the alien artifact. She didn’t know much about it except that it was a technology thousands of years ahead of Earth’s. That game, at least wasn’t over. None of the Powers would allow the Alliance to monopolize such a find, and even with Garret and Holm to fight their battles there was no way they could stand up to all of the Superpowers long enough to research and adapt the new technology. She’d never actually gotten anyone inside the facility, though, and she didn’t have the proof she’d need to put together a grand coalition against the Alliance. She didn’t have it now, but she was determined to get it.

  She looked over at the credenza, two boxes sitting opened on its polished wood surface. The first was a case of bourbon, a very rare and expensive one. There was a card attached: With all my love, Gavin.

  Stark had gotten the better of her, she had known that already. But it wasn’t until she opened the second box that she realized just how he’d done it. It was a large cube of clear polymer, and inside, suspended artfully, was a head. A pale-skinned face framed with white-blond hair stared out at her, lifelessly. Carillon.

  All the effort to turn a member of the Directorate and the fool gets himself caught. She figured that Carillon’s death had likely not been a pleasant one. Gavin Stark did not take kindly to betrayal; she knew that much.

  She hated the smug bastard, and she was determined to have her revenge. She turned her chair and leaned back, looking out over the harbor to Kowloon. “This is not over, Stark,” she muttered to herself. “Enjoy your success while you can, because the wheel will turn.” She reached behind her, taking the bourbon in her hand and raising it to her lips. “Yes, my friend. The wheel will definitely turn.”

  Thirteen thousand kilometers away, two old friends were sharing their own drink, though it was Scotch, not bourbon.

  “To victory.” Gavin Stark sat behind his massive mahogany desk, smiling broadly. He raised his glass, admiring the caramel color of the Scotch in the almost priceless ancient crystal glass. Stark admired antiques; his office was furnished with old and extremely valuable pieces. His desk had been salvaged from the wreckage of Langley; it had belonged to the last director of the old CIA, and before him to a U.S. president.

  His companion was standing at the side table, another priceless antique, pouring his drink. He added a splash of water to his Scotch, something he had been doing more often in recent years. It brought out the flavor of the fine single malt, he felt. “To victory,” he responded, raising his glass before taking a drink and walking over to one of the guest chairs. “But not arrogance,” he added as he sat, slowly lowering his aching joints into the plush leather seat.

  Stark laughed. “Do you think I will let success go to my head?” He leaned back, stretching out in the massive leather chair. “You know me better, my friend.” He picked a small piece of lint off of his otherwise spotless tuxedo. “I am well aware of the many problems we still face.”

  The older man smiled. “Yes, there are always more challenges. But it is a moment for limited celebration.” He ran his eyes over his companion’s perfectly tailored suit. “You should be leaving soon.”

  “Are you sure you won’t come?” Stark was looking forward to the Presidential reception, even if he was going under his cover as a megacorp executive and not the mastermind of the Alliance Intelligence services. “It should be amusing.”

  The old man laughed. Jack Dutton had been a power in Washbalt for seventy years. “I have been going to these things since before you were shaving. They have all been interminable. Now I am old enough to have an excuse to stay home.” He took another drink. “But by all means, you enjoy watching that pompous ass take credit for the victory.”

  Stark smiled. “The president can do whatever he wants. The more he struts around and plays a role, the less he interferes with our running things.” He paused for a second. “When he is no longer necessary, we can deal with him.”

  Dutton smiled. “I suspect that will be your game, my friend. That plan is a little longer term than I am, I think.”

  “I’m not sure I really believe you are capable of dying. You’re too grouchy.” Stark smiled for a minute, then he straightened in his chair, his face suddenly serious. “You are right about having some problems, however. The war was won; there is no doubt about that. But we still have Garret and Holm to deal with, and both have become even bigger heroes.” He paused, his brow furrowed in thought. “I’m not sure how to get rid of them now that we will be at peace.”

  “We will just have to watch for our opportunity.” Dutton shifted slightly in his seat, trying to get comfortable – something that was becoming more difficult with each passing year. “We will need to be patient. And watchful. They must be carefully monitored.” After a brief pause, he added, “And I would put Erik Cain on that list as well. He does not have Garret’s rank, but he is enormously popular within the Corps, and he is famous on Earth too, thanks to that stupid press tour a few years ago.”

  Stark frowned. “I think you are right. By all accounts, he is not a fan of government authority. I have a report here from his political officer…” He sifted through a pile of data chips on his desk. “...well, it’s here somewhere. Anyway, he complains quite vociferously about Cain’s disrespect for him, and he urges that he be dismissed from the Corps.” He looked up from his desk. “Of course, that is out of the question right now. Cain is the hero of Carson’s World, and his service record is spotless.”

  Dutton’s eyes met Stark’s. “Yes. We will have to do something about that, won’t we?” He put his glass down on the desk. “We need a plan to sabotage Cain’s career.”

  Stark’s eyes widened. “Alex ran into him on Carson’s World. She mentioned he acted strangely around her. She thought it was odd, but she wasn’t able to get anywhere with him.” He hesitated, thinking. “But I know something she doesn’t. Erik Cain is involved with Alex’s long lost older sister, a doctor in the Corps. Isn’t that an interesting development?” His expression hardened. “I think I will assign this to our sexy little Alex. She may be able to find a way to undermine him, maybe through her sister.” His mind was moving quickly now. “Indeed, if we can get control of Cain, we can get to Holm too. Cain is his protégé, and from what I hear they are almost like father and son.”

  “That is interesting. Very interesting.” Dutton’s eyes fell to the desk as he considered the possibilities.

  “On the topic of Alex, do you think I should appoint our little vixen to Carillon’s Seat?” Stark had usually decided what to do before he asked for advice, but this time he was really not sure.

  Dutton laughed. “It migh
t be worth it just to see Number Ten go apoplectic.” He paused while Stark let out his own laugh. “I would say do it or leave the Seat vacant for now. You really can’t move Samuels up, and Number Five is stretched to manage his current duties.” He smiled wickedly. “Alex is a capable operative. She did very well to keep the CAC out of the facilities on Carson’s World. If Li An had any evidence other than her word…” He snickered as he said word. “…she could get all the other Powers lined up against us. We cannot allow that to happen.”

  “No.” Stark’s tone became very serious. “The secrecy of the site is not what it was. If the other Powers have evidence of what is there we will face a serious crisis. We can overcome Li An’s unsubstantiated claims – she’s been lying to everyone for fifty years, and no one is going to believe her. But if she gets proof we are in serious trouble.”

  “You’re planning to use Samuels to get the Marines out of there, right?” Dutton had been surprised when Stark told him he’d managed to flip a high-ranking Marine…and downright shocked when he found out just how high-ranking. It was the first time Alliance Intelligence had pulled that off, but it wasn’t for lack of trying. The Marines were a fiercely independent and tight-knit organization. Stark had never shared how he’d gotten to Samuels, and Dutton didn’t ask.

  “Yes. We’ll let them stay a while. Samuels will order the facility sealed up. We’ll have a delay, but we’ll get them off-planet and move our own people back in.”

  “How about the colonies?” Dutton reached out for his drink, slowly lifting it to his lips.

  “I plan to move forward aggressively with bringing them in line.” He rubbed his temples as he spoke. “It is time they learned their place. But we will have to move carefully. The military will be resistant. Samuels will be a big help there, too.”

  Dutton glanced at the chronometer. “You really need to get going.” He stood up, slowly and with significant effort. “So we’ve closed a chapter, but the book goes on.” He smiled at Stark. “Enjoy the victory, but not for too long. We have a lot of work to do.”