The Fall: Crimson Worlds IX

by Jay Allan

  “Stay on it, Captain. This course leads into the asteroid belt.” Cain’s voice was solid, definitive. There wasn’t a doubt in his mind they were following a vessel, and he was equally certain Gavin Stark was aboard.

  “It’s a perfect place for a secret base. It could be an asteroid in a thinly explored region or even one disguised as a mining base.”

  Cain’s obsession with Stark was driving him to push Jennings hard, but there was another reason too. Cain was no stranger to pain and loss, but he couldn’t imagine what Jennings was feeling, having witnessed the devastating attack on his homeworld. In his experience, there was no better way to handle personal pain than diving in and surrendering to duty. Cain was a normal man in many ways, but when he stepped onto a battlefield, he shoved his humanity away, into a deep part of his mind. The warrior had little use for the man and his weaknesses.

  “Yes, General.”

  Jennings had his orders, and those were to do whatever Erik Cain requested. His mind kept drifting back to Mars, wondering how bad the damage had truly been, but he was a warrior, and he would do his duty. He didn’t have Cain’s ability to bury his pain, but he was a veteran, and it showed. “If they are heading for an asteroid base, we will know soon.”

  Cain sat down at one of the workstations. He was edgy, jumpy. He’d been up and down 20 times during the short trip from Mars to the asteroid belt. He’d been pursuing Gavin Stark for six grueling months, from one end of occupied space to the other, and for two decades before that, he and his Marines had struggled against the bastard’s schemes. He could feel the excitement of bringing the long battle to an end. His hands were shaking with anticipation, and deep inside him, the monster that gave Erik Cain his strength was ready to taste blood.

  “General, it appears the enemy vessel is decelerating.” The trail of debris was thicker, denser, and Sand Devil’s scanners were picking up something that might be a tiny leakage of energy from the stealth vessel.

  “Cut all power. Now.” Cain’s voice was soft, an instinctive reaction to his desire to hide from the enemy’s scanners. The Torch wasn’t a stealth ship, but on minimal energy output it would be hard to detect at this range. “Scanners on full passive mode.”

  Cain’s nervous energy almost drove him out of his seat again, but he forced himself to stay still. He was watching the scanning report, waiting. The seconds seemed to stretch into an eternity as he sat there staring at the screen. Had he finally found Gavin Stark?

  “Stand back, Captain.” Vance roared, almost shaking the very foundations of the bunker. “I am going to suit up, and I am going to the surface, and no one is going to stop me.” He glared at the Marine officer with eyes that could melt solid plasti-steel. “Do you understand me?”

  The officer stood firm. Anyone else would have cringed and obsequiously surrendered to Vance’s demands, but the Marine was made of sterner stuff, and he returned the stare with equal resolve. “If you are going out there, sir, I must insist that you take an appropriate escort. I will assemble a reinforced company to go with you.”

  “A company?” Vance respected the captain, and he realized the officer was only doing his duty to protect him. But he also knew there weren’t any Marines to spare right now. The whole planet was in crisis, and he couldn’t even guess at how many emergencies were waiting to be addressed. “How about a squad?” He stared at the officer for a few seconds. “Come on, Captain. We both know no one landed on the surface. The enemy did what they intended to do, but this isn’t an invasion. A squad is more than enough escort.”

  The captain nodded grudgingly. “Very well, sir. But you need to wear armor.”

  Vance was going to argue, but he knew there was no point. The captain was right. He had to wear an enviro-suit anyway, and some kind of radiation shielding as well. He might as well get it all in one with a Marine fighting suit.

  “Very well, Captain. If it doesn’t take too much time to find me one.”

  The officer spun around. “Sergeant Givens,” he snapped.

  “Yes, sir.” The Marine stood at attention.

  “You are to escort Mr. Vance to the armor bay and assist him in getting into one of the all-purpose suits.” The captain’s voice was like steel amid the crisis. “You will then assemble a squad and escort him to the surface. You are to stay with him anywhere he chooses to go.” His eyes narrowed. “I hold you responsible for his safety. Understood?”

  “Yes, Captain. Understood.”

  The captain turned toward Vance. “If you will go with the Sergeant, sir, he will see to your needs.”

  “Thank you, Captain.” Vance looked over to the waiting non-com. “Lead on, Sergeant.”

  “Sir!” The Marine nodded and turned around, leading Vance out into the hall toward the armor bay. The corridors were busy, filled with Marine personnel and emergency service workers rushing from one disaster to the next.

  Vance still felt sick, and he was struggling to come to terms with the enormity of the catastrophe he had just witnessed. He blamed himself for it all, for letting Gavin Stark get the better of him. If he’d been more careful, considered the situation more deeply, maybe things would have been different. He knew better intellectually. War was war, and if it went on long enough, destruction spread everywhere. But he still couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d missed something, been duped by Stark once again. Perhaps he should have suspected Stark’s stealth ships, or at least realized the invasion force at Saturn was just a diversion.

  Things could be worse, he thought grimly. For all the devastation that had been wrought on the surface, most of the people had been evacuated in time. The original settlers had built underground cities and only years later constructed the great domes on the surface. There were kilometers of semi-abandoned corridors and old dwellings that had sat empty for half a century.

  Vance and his predecessors had been extremely cautious, ever fearful of a war with one or more of the Earth Superpowers, and the tunnels were well-stocked with emergency supplies and equipment. The population was far larger than it had been when the subterranean dwellings were last inhabited, but Vance knew they would manage somehow. Most of the people would survive, though standards of living would plummet. Mars’ economy was in ruins, and its people would live in overcrowded apartments and depend almost entirely on government aid to survive. Freedom would be lost, at least for a generation or more. He and the council would have to rule like dictators, control every resource the planet still possessed. If they didn’t, Martian civilization would never survive.

  The domed megafarms had not been damaged, at least. That was something to be thankful for. Stark had clearly been out to destroy Martian industry, not to depopulate the planet. Mars was already dependent on imported food. If the farm domes had been cracked, the situation would have been impossible.

  “We’re here, sir.” The sergeant’s voice pulled Vance from his thoughts. “The general-purpose suits are against that wall. The armorer will help you with the adjustments.” He gestured across the room. “With your permission, I will go assemble the escort squad.”

  “Yes, Sergeant. Thank you.” Vance walked across the room toward the row of hulking suits lined up in racks against the wall. The fighting suits were an imposing sight, the ultimate weapons of war. The Martian armor was the most advanced of any of the Superpowers, better even than the suits of the Alliance Marine Corps. A trained Marine wore his armor like a second skin, but Vance knew his would be cumbersome and uncomfortable. The Marine suits were customized to be a perfect fit for their wearers, men and women who’d been trained in their use for years. Vance would wear a generic suit, designed for emergency use. Still, he’d be far better protected than he would in an enviro-suit.

  “Sir, it is an honor.” The Marine armorer stood at attention.

  “Relax, Corporal. We’ve no need for ceremony now.” Vance took another look at the hulking suit, it’s osmium-iridium armor plating covered with a deep black coating, the material of the programmable camouf
lage system. “Let’s see if we can squeeze me into one of these monsters.” He sighed softly. “I need to get to the surface and see what is going on up there.”

  “Let’s get the boys suited up, James.” There was grim anticipation in Cain’s voice, and an ominous tone that chilled the room around him.

  The ship they’d been pursuing had finally landed, and Cain’s guess had been right. They touched down on an old asteroid base. A quick scan of the asteroid and its history only increased Cain’s confidence. This was Gavin Stark’s base, and he was there to oversee the final phase of his plans on Earth. He was sure of it.

  “I’m on it, Erik.” Teller slipped through the open hatch and headed toward the assembly area. The Torch was a tiny vessel, and he and Cain had only been able to bring a squad with them. It was a very special formation, all veterans, most with service dating back to the Third Frontier War. Every one of them was a volunteer, and they’d left their rank insignia, from sergeant’s stripes to colonel’s eagles behind. They weren’t Marines now. They were hunters. And they were about to begin the final battle with their prey.

  Cain stared at the data screen. The asteroid had been one of the first to be mined, back in the days of the old United States and its fledgling space force. It had been worked for more than 50 years before it was finally abandoned, all its easily extractable resources mined out. It had passed from the investment consortium that had developed it to the Alliance Government when all private businesses were nationalized. It had been ignored for decades, a forgotten piece of interplanetary real estate, long ago replaced by richer finds.

  Forgotten until Stark found it, Cain thought. The asteroid was perfect for his needs. There would be kilometers of mining tunnels already excavated, making it much easier to build a secure underground base. And it was in a remote section of the asteroid belt, far from the heavily trafficked shipping lanes. A perfect choice, he thought. Just what he expected from Gavin Stark.

  “I’m here, you son of a bitch.” Cain was whispering to himself, his voice a barely audible growl. “It’s almost time for our last dance.” His face was like a marble statue, twisted into a menacing frown. He took a deep breath, staring one last time at the viewscreen displaying the irregularly-shaped asteroid. Then he turned and walked toward the cargo hold.

  It was time for the final showdown.

  Chapter 15

  Dead Man’s Ridge

  Halfway Between LZ Holm and Weston

  Columbia, Eta Cassiopeiae II

  “General Tyler, it is a pleasure to meet you. Major Craig Mandrake, Alliance Marines Corps at your service.”

  Tyler stood in front of the armored Marine, and he allowed himself a rare smile. “It is my pleasure, Major. I can’t tell you how relieved I am to see Alliance Marines back on Columbia.” He exhaled loudly. “And just in time too. I don’t know how much longer we could have held out.” Tyler appeared to be an unstoppable force to those around him, a man without weakness, without emotion. But that was a show for the benefit of his people. Inside, he was exhausted to his core, and he doubted he could have held things together much longer.

  “Well, we are here, General. Almost the entire Corps.” That was technically true, though the Corps was a shadow of its former size and strength. “And we’re landing supplies for your people even now. Food, meds, weapons.” He stared at Tyler, and he could see through the façade, to the man below. He had an idea of the burden Tyler had been carrying for more than a year, and he had nothing but respect for Columbia’s military commander.

  “Again, Major, I don’t know how to thank you. We have a lot of hungry mouths to feed down here.” Tyler was still having trouble convincing himself that after all the time that had passed, help had finally come. He’d been rock solid in front of his soldiers and the civilians, but inside he’d all but given up hope.

  “We’re just doing our jobs, General. I’m sorry it took so long, but there’s been trouble all across occupied space.” Mandrake was one of the few Marine officers who hadn’t been surprised when he heard there were Columbian forces still holding out. He’d been the liaison to Kara Sander’s army on Arcadia, and he’d gotten a good taste of what desperate partisans fighting for their homes could accomplish.

  “I’ve got a reinforced battalion coming down at this LZ to support your forces, General.” Mandrake gestured south, toward the landing area. The stubby Liggett landers were still coming in toward the center of the field, with heavier transport sleds setting down on the perimeter. “My people are putting together a com center with an orbital uplink. You’re too far south for conventional ground communications with the primary LZ, but fleetcom will patch you through to General Gilson.”

  Tyler nodded. “I am very anxious to speak with the General.” Tyler had recognized a number of names among the Marines landing on Columbia, but there was one famous leatherneck no one had mentioned, a man Tyler had long respected and was anxious to meet. “Is General Cain with the invasion force, Major?”

  “I’m afraid not. General Cain is…ah…on another mission.” Mandrake paused for a moment, wondering himself where Cain’s desperate quest had taken him. He knew why the General had gone, and he suspected he would have done the same thing in Cain’s shoes. But many of the Marines landing on Columbia were Cain’s people, and they missed their legendary commander. They would do their duty, no one doubted that, but there was a spark missing, part of what had sustained them through their great battles.

  “I’m sorry I won’t have the chance to meet General Cain. He is quite famous on Columbia. He fought here under General Holm during the Third Frontier War, as a sergeant if you can believe that.” Tyler’s eyes flashed behind Mandrake, watching as a lander his the ground, and the ten Marines onboard leapt out and formed up in an instant. All the stories he’d heard about the Marines seemed to be true.

  “Yes, General Cain’s exploits on Columbia have found their way into Marine lore, along with many of his other battles.”

  “Is General Holm with the fleet? He is regarded as nothing less than a savior on Columbia. His birthday is a planetwide holiday.”

  Mandrake felt his stomach clench. He hadn’t thought about it before, but of course no one on Columbia could have known. “I’m afraid General Holm is dead.” His voice was gentle, touched with his own lingering sadness. “He was killed near the end of the fighting on Armstrong.” Murdered, Mandrake thought, by a psychopath after the battle was over.

  Tyler stared back for a moment, silent, his face blank with shock. “That is terrible news, Major.” His voice was a sliver of what it had been, and he stared down at the ground. “Columbia will always be deeply in the General’s debt. He will be sincerely mourned, and he will be remembered on this world as long as men live here.”

  Mandrake felt a wave of grief coming on, but he pushed it back. There was work to do, and no time to dwell on what couldn’t be changed. “General Holm would want us to focus on duty and not on him.” He extended an armored hand, gently touching Tyler’s shoulder. “Let’s see to getting these supplies distributed.” He gestured toward the LZ, where large piles of crates were already stacked up, waiting to be moved to wherever they were needed.

  “I will organize civilian details at once, so no combat strength is diverted.” Tyler was still in shock, but he was forcing himself back to the present situation.

  “It would also be helpful if you can share any intel you have on enemy strength and dispositions.” Mandrake’s voice returned to normal. “I suspect you have considerably more data than we do, and I’m certain General Gilson would find it extremely valuable.”

  The prospect of hitting the enemy energized Tyler. “Let’s go to my command post, Major. We have considerable information, and I’m sure it will be very useful to General Gilson.”

  The open field was engulfed with great billowing clouds of green steam, spreading out, obscuring the entire plain. The bilious gas was radioactive, and it interfered with most scanning devices. The Shadow Legion soldiers we
re dug in across the line, but they had never seen a bombardment like this before, and they were uncertain what to expect.

  The gas was called Smoke, and only one force used it in combat. Behind its creeping cover, serried ranks of Janissaries formed up for battle, their lines rigid and perfect. They were warriors with as proud and storied a history as the Marines they had fought for so long.

  Farooq stood just behind the first wave, wearing the same brown armor as his soldiers. They had been the Caliphate’s elite warriors for a century, and they’d faced the Marines in countless battles throughout occupied space. The two forces had hated each other and fought with unparalleled savagery, with no quarter asked or given. But there had been respect as well, and a grudging acceptance by each that the other was the only military formation that could fight them on anything like equal terms.

  Things had changed now, and the Janissaries were outcast, proscribed by the Caliph after they had rebelled, angered by an attempted purge of their senior officers. They had fought alongside their old enemies against the legions of the First Imperium, and by the time that war was won, old foes had become new friends. Now they were ready to fight alongside the Marines again, to help them sweep the Shadow Legions from Columbia.

  “First Orta, advance.” Farooq’s voice blared through the com units, and over 1,000 Janissaries advanced as one. They moved swiftly behind the rolling barrage of Smoke, closing the distance to the enemy as quickly as possible.

  Farooq stood and watched his vanguard advance into the swirling green mist. “Second Orta, advance.” He snapped out the orders, and the next rank of soldiers marched forward in lockstep, following their brethren onto the Smoke-covered battlefield.