The Fall: Crimson Worlds IX

by Jay Allan

  He would kill again, he was sure, but only to serve his own purposes, to survive and to bring his people through the destruction and chaos that were spreading everywhere. Even killing for a flashlight made more sense to him than playing the twisted game with Alliance Government. His act had been a brutal one, unforgivable perhaps, but there was at least a base honesty to it. He had needed the light to survive in the tunnels, and he had done what he had to do to get it. He knew the Cogs would turn on each other when they began to run low on plundered supplies. Men would do what he had done and worse. They would do what they had to do to survive. And he intended to be long gone from the city before things reached that stage.

  Chapter 11

  Flag Bridge

  MCS John Carter

  Near Saturn

  Sol System

  Duncan Campbell stared at the display, watching the report of Rhodes’ destruction in stunned silence. It all felt strangely detached, a small icon disappearing from a computer screen, along with a stream of data confirming that the Martian battleship had lost power to its fusion core containment. The reality – that one of his oldest friends, and over 900 veteran spacers had just been vaporized – seemed an amorphous concept.

  The Martian admiral felt the emotion welling up inside of him, and he clamped down hard, driving it into a deep place in his mind until he had time for it. He had ships in the fight that needed his attention, and live crews fighting an enemy that still outnumbered them. He would mourn the dead later.

  His eyes scanned the tactical display. The battle was going fairly well overall, better at least than he could have dared hope. But well was a relative term when you were badly outnumbered, and he knew his fleet was on its last legs. Celestia and Rhodes were gone, and every other ship in the battleline, including John Carter and Sword of Ares, were heavily damaged.

  He panned across the icons representing enemy ships. Stark’s vessels had all been stolen from various other powers, and most of them were in the Martian naval database, making them easy to pick out. His eyes stopped on one battleship, a Yorktown class behemoth. It was positioned behind the battleline, and it was the last of the big Alliance ships in the fleet. Liang’s flagship.

  “Get me Captain Oswald now.” It was time to up the ante, time to see what Liang Chang was truly made of.

  “I’ve got Captain Oswald, sir.”

  “Captain, do you see that Yorktown sitting behind the enemy battleline?”

  “Yes, sir. She’s tucked in there nice and neat.” Oswald had a deep booming voice, and it lost nothing in the transmission across 20,000 kilometers of empty space.

  “Would you say that’s Liang’s flagship?”

  “I’d bet money on it, sir.”

  Campbell took a deep breath. “Let’s find out. I want you to head straight for that ship, Brian. Ignore everything else. I’ll do the same.” His eyes darted back to the display for an instant. “It’s time to give Admiral Liang something to think about.”

  “Yes, sir.” Oswald emphasized both words with a tone of deep approval. He was all for taking the battle to Stark’s admiral and damned the consequences.

  Campbell knew those consequences could be severe. As soon as Liang realized they were coming after him, all hell would break loose. He’d probably order every ship in his fleet to attack the two huge battlewagons. Carter and Sword of Mars were tough vessels, the largest and most powerful tools of war ever built by man, but they weren’t indestructible. If they took enough damage they could be obliterated, just like Celestia and Rhodes.

  “Good luck, Brian.”

  “And to you, sir.”

  Campbell took a deep breath and dialed up John Carter’s bridge. “Will, set a course directly toward contact Sierra-2. I want all batteries targeted at that ship.”

  Will Cartwright had taken over command of John Carter when the newly minted Admiral Campbell moved to the flag bridge. Cartwright had been Campbell’s first officer, and there was no one he trusted more. In fact, he’d asked Roderick Vance point blank to promote Cartwright and make him his flag captain. There had been a number of senior officer on the list waiting for a battleship command, but Vance acceded to the wishes of his new Admiral. If Campbell was going to take control of the whole fleet, Vance had reasoned, he had the right to the flag captain of his choosing.

  “Yes, sir. Target Sierra-2.” There was a brief pause. “Initiating 3g thrust in twenty seconds.”

  An instant later, the message repeated on the shipwide com. “All personnel prepare for immediate 3g maneuvers.”

  Campbell could hear Cartwright shouting commands through the open com. A few seconds later: “All batteries are targeting contact Sierra-2, Admiral.”

  Campbell closed the com line and stared straight ahead, imagining Liang’s reaction. The former-CAC admiral wasn’t a fool, but he wasn’t known for his personal courage either. Campbell wondered whether the fear of Gavin Stark was enough to stiffen his spine.

  “Sword of Ares is on a parallel course, 20,700 kilometers to our port, Admiral. Both ships on a direct vector for enemy contact Sierra-2.”

  Campbell’s expression morphed slowly into a hard, feral gaze. I’m coming for you, Liang Chang, he thought. And the shades of David Ross and the crews of Celestia and Rhodes are with me.

  “Time to see what we are all made of,” he whispered to himself.

  Cain was thinking, wracking his brain trying to figure out how Stark was planning to come at Mars. The fleet battle now raging was a diversion, he was sure of that. Stark was too subtle, too clever to wager such a crucial part of his plan on the vagaries of success in battle. Stark was a lot of things, but he wasn’t a soldier, a warrior. He didn’t have the capacity to trust in the men serving under him to do what was necessary. No, Cain thought, he would have planned something else, something sleeker, more direct.

  “We’re getting close to Mars.” Teller walked up behind Cain. “I had the captain do a full scan. Nothing. The scope is clear.”

  “Of course, it’s clear. Stark knows he could never have gotten a ship through the Confederation’s net without being detected.” He paused for a few seconds, looking up with a strange expression on his face. “A normal ship, at least.”

  “Normal ship?” Teller was confused.

  “How did he get away on Armstrong?”

  Teller walked around Cain’s chair, staring down at his friend. “He slipped past the fleet, I guess.”

  “Slipped past Augustus Garret?” Cain’s voice was becoming firmer, his conviction growing. “Not likely.” His eyes darted up toward Teller’s. “No, James, not just any ship. Stark must have some kind of stealth ship, something that can evade normal detection.”

  “A stealth ship?” Teller sounded unconvinced. “That’s a bit of a stretch, wouldn’t you say?”

  “Not really.” Cain was nodding as he spoke. “What else could it be? After Stark killed Elias, Admiral Garret clamped down the tightest blockade occupied space has ever seen, but the son of a bitch got through it somehow anyway.” Cain knew he was working a hunch, but the more he thought about it, the more he was sure he was right. “We know the navy’s been working on stealth technology for a long time, and Stark would have had access to everything through Alliance Intelligence.” The pieces were beginning to slide into place in Cain’s mind. No one in the Alliance would have been better positioned to steal promising new technologies – and eliminate anyone who knew anything about them. “Think about it. Who would have had an easier time diverting any new research to his own purposes?”

  Teller was listening, but his expression remained skeptical. It just seemed too out there for him to embrace.

  “Think about it, James. We’re always underestimating Stark, always one step behind him. I’ve fallen into that trap before, but never again.” He paused and stared at Teller with icy eyes. “Never.”

  Cain stood up. “That’s why his fleet is invading the system. Stark wanted to draw the Confederation’s warships away from Mars.” He pau
sed again. “That means he must be planning something…now.” He moved quickly toward the door. “Come on, James. We’ve got to get to the bridge.”

  He slipped through the open hatch and into the corridor, heading for the ship’s small control center.

  Teller chased behind. “Erik, wait. Don’t you think we’re moving a little too quickly here? This is only a guess after all.”

  “It’s the best thing we’ve got.” Cain didn’t break a stride. “And my gut tells me I’m right, James.” Cain waved his hand over the plate next to the bridge entrance, and the hatch slid open. He walked inside and looked over toward the command chair. “Captain Jennings, I need to speak with Roderick Vance. Now.”

  Jennings turned toward the unexpected visitor. “Immediately, General Cain.” Vance had sent Jennings to aid Cain, with the specific instructions to do anything the Marine general asked. The head of Martian Intelligence respected Cain and trusted his judgment, perhaps even more in some ways than his own Marine colleagues. Cain and Vance were similar creatures, the ‘cold fish’ of their respective services. Vance knew Cain was deadly serious in his pursuit of Gavin Stark, and he wanted to help any way he could. And he knew if anyone could track stark down and rid the universe of Stark’s loathsome presence, it was Erik Cain, by sheer determination if nothing else.

  “This is Sand Devil to Confederation Control. I have a clearance level one communique for Roderick Vance.” Sand Devil’s captain handled the communication himself. A clearance level one message could only be made by a ship’s captain or higher. It was the Confederation’s top priority communications protocol, used only for serious emergencies. Vance had been clear that Jennings was to use the channel for any messages from Cain.

  “Vance here.” The communications desk rerouted the message almost instantaneously.

  Jennings handed Cain a headset. He reached out and grabbed it, strapping it on. “Cain here, Roderick.” He paused, but only for an instant. He was about to hurl the Confederation into frenzy of activity, like a child kicking an anthill. He wondered for a second if Teller was right, if he was overreacting. But he shoved that aside. He knew he was right. He just knew it.

  “I believe Stark’s attack is a diversion, Roderick, an attempt to draw your fleet away from Mars.”

  “Why would he want to…” Vance’s voice stopped suddenly, and Cain could hear alarms in the background. Erik turned and looked at Teller then his eyes shot over to Jennings. “Captain, run a scan of…”

  “Already doing it, General. We’re picking up multiple missile launches from high orbit.” He snapped his head around toward Cain. “We can’t detect any launch platforms, sir, but we’re tracking 36 inbound delivery vehicles entering the Martian atmosphere. “It’s like they came out of nowhere.” The captain’s voice was loud, brittle. “Preliminary analysis suggests multiple surface targets, including the Ares Metroplex, Argos, Tharsis City, and Olympia.”

  Cain felt his stomach tighten as Jennings rattled off the names of the four largest cities on Mars. My God, he thought. We’re too late.

  “I said a planetwide level one alert.” Vance was shouting into the com unit. He almost never lost his composure, but now he was facing the most dangerous crisis of his life, and he’d let it happen. He’d sent the entire fleet to face Stark’s invading ships, secure in the knowledge that nothing could come through either of Sol’s warp gates without being tracked every kilometer by his detection grid. He’d played into Stark’s hands again, and this time hundreds of thousands of innocent Martians would pay the price.

  “I want all personnel into the shelters immediately.” There were klaxons sounding off all around, and he could hear the scrambling of boots in the corridor outside. His hands worked the com controls. “All planetary defense units, we are tracking 36 incoming enemy missiles. Interception is absolutely essential at all costs. Fire at will.” He knew the anti-assault batteries would get some of them, probably most of them. But he also knew some would get through, especially since they were probably MIRVs, with at least half a dozen warheads each.

  “All atmospheric fighter squadrons are to scramble at once.” He knew the aircraft would be too late, but there was a small chance they might pick off one or two of the enemy missiles, and anything would help right now. Besides, they’d be safer in the air than on the ground anyway.

  The door slid open and a squad of armed and armored Martian Marines poured into the room. “We’re here to get you to a secure location, Mr. Vance.” The sergeant waved his arm, and four of his men surrounded Vance, gently leading him toward the door.

  “Wait,” Vance yelled. “I have…”

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Vance, but there is no time.” The sergeant stepped out of the way, motioning for the Marines to move the head of Martian Intelligence out into the hall.

  Vance was going to argue, but he knew the standard procedures even better than the sergeant did. All council members were to be taken to the underground shelter in the event of a level one alert. Vance knew the Marines would do whatever they had to do, but they would get him to safety whether he wanted to go or not.

  He followed along, flipping on the portable comlink on his wrist. “I want full updates,” he yelled as the Marines hustled him down the corridor toward the emergency lift.

  No, he thought to himself. This can’t be happening. He’d helped to design the Martian early warning systems himself, and there was no way a ship should have been able to get so close to Mars without being detected. He leaned over the wrist com and yelled, “Get General Cain on this line immediately.”

  “Roderick, I’m here. They’re missiles, and they’re tracking for your four biggest cities.” Vance already knew what Cain was telling him, but the words hit him like a sledgehammer anyway.

  “Who?” he stammered as the Marines shoved him into the lift. “Who launched the attack?”

  “We don’t know.” Cain’s voice was busy, distracted. “We can’t detect any ships in orbit. I think Stark has…” The high speed lift descended rapidly toward the secure underground bunker of the Martian Council, and Vance’s portable com lost the connection. He stared aimlessly toward the small control panel thinking one thing again and again. How?

  Stark sat in his chair on the bridge and watched the missile tracking data on the main display. He tended to remain impassive and unreadable in front of the crew, but he couldn’t keep a small smile off his face. His stealth ships had managed to sneak into Mars orbit and launch their ordnance. He knew the Martians would fire everything they had at his missiles, but they’d never get them all. And his barrage didn’t have to destroy every square kilometer of inhabited Mars or kill all the Martians. All they had to do was crack the domes of four cities, and single near miss was enough to do the job. There wasn’t any appreciable military support infrastructure anywhere else on Mars, and if the bombardment took out its targets, Garret and the Marines would lose their last hope of refit and resupply. And Stark would be one step closer to mastery over mankind.

  He watched the plotting screen. Soon, his 36 delivery vehicles would separate into 216 individual warheads. The stealth ships weren’t large, and they couldn’t carry a lot of ordnance. The bombs were small, 100 kilotons each, hardly comparable to the 100 megaton city killers the Superpowers would soon be hurling at each other, or the 500 megaton monsters the battlefleets were launching out by Saturn. But 100 kilotons was more than enough to shatter a city’s dome, even one built from reinforced hyper-polycarbonate.

  He could see the Martian response in action. Anti-missile rockets were streaking up through the sky, locking onto his launch vehicles with considerable accuracy. He knew the ground-based lasers were active too, tracking the inbound missiles and waiting for them to come into their shorter range. The defense was spot on, the reactions times extraordinary. The Confederation lived in the shadow of Earth, ever fearful of the navies of the Superpowers, and the Martian defensive systems were leading edge. But Stark knew all that, and he’d planned around it.

/>   “Separate MIRVs.” He spoke softly, matter-of-factly.

  “Sir, the entry vehicles are still…”

  “Separate MIRVs,” Stark repeated, every aspect of his tone a blood-chilling threat. “Now.”

  “Yes, Number One.” The captain gestured to the tactical officer who turned and worked the controls.

  “Vehicle separation complete.” The officer’s voice was cracking, tense.

  Stark smiled. Now Vance’s people had 216 targets to chase and less than six minutes to go. It was as good as done.

  He leaned back, and closed his eyes for a moment, savoring his impending triumph. Then his ship shook wildly, and the lights went dark for a few seconds. He bolted upright and looked around the small bridge, his eyes settling on the captain. “What the hell was that?”

  “We’re detecting something, sir. It’s very faint. It could be a small amount of debris or some frozen liquids, but we don’t have enough data to be sure.” Cain had ordered the Torch to target the area where the missiles first entered its scanning plot. The stealth ship had to be there, at least it must have been when the ordnance was fired. Cain knew Stark wasn’t the type to trust anyone else with a job this important. He’d be there himself. Cain was sure of it. And he was betting the psychopathic bastard would have stayed in orbit to make sure the job was done.

  “Fire again!” Cain’s voice was frightening, like something out a legend, the cold wailing of the undead, come to claim the living. “Blanket the entire area.”

  Cain knew the Torch was a lightly-armed ship, and he longed for something with more power, even a suicide boat. But he had what he had, and there was no use wasting time on idle wishes. “Maintain fire, full dispersion pattern.” Hopefully, Stark’s stealth vessels were similarly fragile.