Crimson Worlds Collection II

by Jay Allan

  Chapter 12

  Western Alliance Intelligence Directorate HQ

  Wash-Balt Metroplex, Earth

  Gavin Stark sat behind his desk in near darkness, the only light in the room coming through the windows from the nearby towers. There was a glass full of very expensive Scotch sitting untouched next to him. He stared out at the Washbalt skyline, but he wasn’t really seeing anything. His mind was focused on his recent frustrations, and his thoughts were dark.

  The rebellions had turned into a complete disaster for Stark. It was bad enough to be forced into accepting the Confederation Agreement, but he had also seen all his carefully assembled military assets destroyed. The Marines had beaten off all his strike forces, despite being surprised and low on supplies. He’d underestimated those damnable Marines again, and he’d paid the price for his arrogance. Now the Corps was less accountable than ever before, though at least its power and combat readiness were reduced. The Marines would have their hands full protecting the Alliance colonies from the other Powers. Stark would have time to prepare before they became a major threat to him again.

  Even worse than the situation with the Corps, Augustus Garret had aggressively hunted down and destroyed every ship Stark had managed to seize from the Strategic Reserve. Millions of tons of warships were destroyed and all the crews Stark had carefully assembled were wiped out. Garret had refused any surrenders or negotiated agreements…he’d outright forbidden any communications at all with the target vessels. Stark’s kidnapping plan had backfired, and he’d turned the naval commander into a blood enemy and a raging paranoid. Augustus Garret had become more dangerous than ever, and now he was unpredictable as well. But just like the Marines, Garret’s navy was struggling to cover its basic defensive obligations with its remaining force. Augustus Garret hated Stark, but he didn’t have the time or resources to do anything about it right now. Again, Stark had time.

  The Garret kidnapping had remained a secret at least, the admiral no more willing than Stark to publicize what he considered embarrassing carelessness on his own part. Garret had discussed the matter with General Holm and Admiral Compton, and they all agreed…without proof he’d just look like a madman making wild accusations.

  However the loss of so many warships couldn’t be hidden, and Stark had to answer a lot of questions from the highest levels. Only his massive storehouse of dirty secrets – and his willingness to utilize targeted assassinations – had enabled him to survive as head of Alliance Intelligence. One Senator in particular, who’d been determined to see Stark removed from his post and prosecuted, had gone missing without a trace. Stark smiled when he thought about the pompous windbag. No one was going to find the fool; that much he knew for sure.

  But Gavin Stark wasn’t one to brood over dashed hopes. He still had a number of plans, and he was determined to see them to fruition. But now he had another problem. Something was going on out on the Rim, and Stark had absolutely no idea what. Whichever power was attacking Alliance frontier worlds, Stark’s organization was completely in the dark. How, he wondered, was it possible for one of the Superpowers to take such a quantum leap in technology without his people even hearing about it? He had spies and double agents everywhere…it just couldn’t be.

  Yet the reality was unavoidable. Sol was far back from the frontier worlds the enemy was attacking, and even Commnet took weeks to get a transmission through. But it was clear that the Alliance had a full-fledged emergency on its hands. Stark had to find out what was happening, and he had to do it immediately. But, for the first time in a very long time, Gavin Stark didn’t know what to do. He was low on reliable agents, at least at the highest level. Jack Dutton had been his mentor and closest confidante, but the ancient spymaster had finally lost his long battle with age. Stark missed the old man’s council and friendship even more than he’d expected. He was alone now, in a way he’d never imagined.

  Rafael Samuels had proven to be a useful addition to the Directorate, despite the failure to bring down the Marine Corps. But he was off in the Dakota Foothills, managing the development of Plan C. That was far too important to interrupt. Plan C was the future…Stark wasn’t going to allow anything to interfere with that. It would be his final revenge on those accursed Marines…and it would give him the tools he needed to seize total power.

  Alex Linden had been his closest ally since Dutton’s death, but she’d been off-planet for more than six months, trying to get intel on the restructured Marine Corps and navy. Alex was the sister of Sarah Linden, chief of staff of the Marine hospital on Armstrong…and the longtime lover of Erik Cain. Sarah believed her sister had died as a child, and Stark had planned to use a surprise reunion to get Alex into the inner circle of the Corps. It was a perfect setup for espionage, save for one inconvenient fact. Alex had run into Erik Cain on Carson’s World during the war and, with her tremendous resemblance to Sarah, he was sure to remember. Stark thought of Cain as a stubborn, pain-in-the-ass jarhead, but he knew the Marine wasn’t stupid. He had to be patient and wait for the right time to send Alex in. The time would come…indeed, he thought, it may have come already. It appeared Erik Cain was heading out to the Rim to deal with the mysterious attacks. With Cain gone, there was nothing to stop Alex from making contact with her sister…and then she would not only sabotage the Marine Corps…she would be in position to rid him once and for all of Erik Cain.

  Rodger Burke was also deeply involved in Plan C. He was Number Seven on the Directorate, but Stark had promised him a position in the top three if he successfully shepherded his section of the plan to completion. He’d anxiously accepted, even though it meant virtual exile from Earth for years to come.

  There were vacant Seats as well. Several Directorate members had made moves against Stark when he was at his weakest. But even with all his problems, he was too clever to fall into their traps, and three of the conspirators met with very unpleasant ends.

  With his most capable people committed elsewhere and the Directorate otherwise nearly vacant, Stark was forced to look to other means to investigate this new situation. He still had Troy Warren, though Warren wasn’t really a spy. An enormously successful Corporate Magnate, he’d bought his way onto the Directorate. Still, Stark trusted him as much as he trusted anyone, and there was no question that Warren was smart. Stark would find a way to use him.

  He had to figure out which power was launching the attacks, and he had to do it now. He’d been thinking about it for days, and his mind kept working its way back to the CAC. They must have found something themselves on Carson’s World, he thought. Stark couldn’t imagine any other way for one of the Superpowers to leapfrog so far in technology so quickly.

  He suspected Li An was involved. She had called a meeting of representatives from the RIC, the empire, and the Caliphate. She thought she’d kept the whole thing under wraps, but Stark had an informant there…one she would never have anticipated.

  Mahmoud Al’Karesh was the Chairman of State Security for the Caliphate and a relative of the Caliph himself. He was also the mastermind behind a 30 year campaign of graft and theft so extensive that the Caliph would have his head if the true extent of it was ever discovered. Unfortunately for Al’Karesh, Gavin Stark had quite a little file on his escapades…enough to blackmail the Caliphate security chief into working for Stark, at least as an informant. Stark had refrained from asking Al’Karesh to spy on his own nation…he just wanted to know what the Caliphate knew about the other powers. And that included Li An’s secret little meeting.

  He hated the little midget, as he called her, but he had to admit that she was the closest thing he had to a rival. Brilliant, cunning, and as reptilian as he was, Li An was the enemy he worried about most. If anyone slipped alien technology out of Epsilon Eridani under his nose, it was probably Li An. And now she was trying to persuade the other Powers to mobilize on the Alliance’s borders. The more he considered it, the more he convinced himself she was behind the whole thing.

  He reached out for the com
unit and pushed the button for his assistant’s line. “Jamie, call Peter Hillman. Get him in here immediately.” Hillman was the chief of intelligence gathering on the CAC.

  “Yes, sir.” Like all of Stark’s assistants, Jamie Larken never questioned the chief’s orders; she just carried them out. The fact that it was well past midnight meant nothing to Stark. Intelligence was a 24/7 business, and he expected his people to be on the job whenever he needed them.

  Stark leaned back and looked out over the skyline. “I don’t know what you’re up to Li An, but I’m going to find out if I have to burn every asset I have in Hong Kong.”

  General Isaac Merrick walked down the hall, his boots echoing loudly off the polished marble floor. His uniform was impeccable – perfectly tailored and neatly pressed. It was the only thing in his life that was as it should be. Merrick had been the federal commander on Arcadia, charged with using any means necessary to defeat the revolution and return the planet to its status as an obedient colony. He’d fought a war and almost won, but he’d refused to inflict institutionalized atrocities against the rebels, as federal commanders had done on other worlds. He was a soldier, not a butcher, and he knew he would make the same choices all over again.

  Unfortunately, in the wake of an embarrassing defeat, Alliance Gov looked for scapegoats, and Merrick’s refusal to torture and murder civilians had been recast as incompetence and weakness. There were even whispers that he had sympathized with the rebels. Ironically, that had not been the case at all when he’d been fighting on Arcadia, but in the aftermath of the conflict he’d come to look at things in ways he never had before….thoughts that turned his entire way of life upside down and forced him to question everything he believed.

  His family was very influential, and they had expended the money and political capital necessary to save him from any serious problems. He kept his rank and avoided any official reprimand, but he knew he’d never again see a serious command or meaningful assignment. His career, both in the army and in politics, was, for all intents and purposes, over. He could remain a well-dressed figurehead, carrying some made up title and walking the halls of one army base after another, or he could retire and live comfortably and quietly on his family’s resources. Or he could emigrate.

  That last option was unthinkable to a member of the Political Class, especially one from a family as highly placed as Merrick’s. But Isaac Merrick was thinking about it nevertheless…he was thinking about it very seriously.

  He’d been unsettled since his return to Earth. At first he thought it was stress from dealing with the intense criticism, but all of that had passed by now, and he was as restless as ever. He’d seen things on Arcadia that had challenged everything he’d believed all his life. He had been disgusted with the casual brutality and ineptitude of many of his officers…all Political Academy graduates and members of the privileged class. He began to have serious questions about the system that created such people. At the same time he’d been impressed with many of the colonists he fought against. They’d had their share of closed-minded fools too, but their ranks produced some truly extraordinary people.

  Merrick truly mourned for Will Thompson. The enemy commander had proven to be a capable and honorable opponent. The news of his death at the Second Battle of Sander’s Dale had been greeted with laughter and derision at federal headquarters…but not from Isaac Merrick. The federal commander in chief spent the hours after the battle alone, locked in the office of his mobile command center, paying silent tribute to his fallen counterpart.

  Merrick had always considered the Cogs inferior…the descendants of the lowest levels of humanity. But William Thompson had been born a Cog in one of the most notorious slums in the Alliance, and he had become a better man than any of Merrick’s peers. The same was true of Kyle Warren and Gregory Sanders…they all had a strength of character that Merrick found to be quite rare among his colleagues.

  He wasn’t sure emigrating was even possible. His family would go along; he was sure of that much. He was an embarrassment to them now anyway. But would he be accepted anywhere? It had been barely a year since the end of the rebellions, and less than two since he’d been in the field as federal commander on Arcadia. Could the colonists overlook that fact so soon and allow him in as one of them?

  He opened the door to his office and walked to the desk. A glance at his screen confirmed he had no messages. Apparently being a supernumerary figurehead didn’t entail much actual work. He sat down in his chair and turned to face the window. Work…that was another issue. What would he do if he emigrated? He wasn’t enjoying being useless on Earth; he didn’t expect to appreciate it any more as a colonist. But his only trade was soldiering. Was it possible to somehow to be a part of the colonial military establishment so soon after he was their enemy? He couldn’t go to Arcadia; he was sure of that much. It was too soon, and the wounds were too fresh. Maybe another world. But where?

  The Marines and navy had selected Armstrong for their new joint headquarters. Both organizations were rebuilding and frantically trying to expand the facilities they needed to become independent of Earth-based supplies and manufacturing. They needed skilled personnel badly, and Merrick liked the idea of being part of something dynamic and growing.

  He’d met Erik Cain on Arcadia, when he surrendered to Kyle Warren and the rebel forces. Cain’s troops had turned the tide and saved the rebellion, but the Marine general had remained virtually silent, respectfully leaving the negotiations to Warren and his officers. They had exchanged only a few words, mostly polite pleasantries, but Merrick had a good impression of Cain. Perhaps he could work with him somehow. He knew the Marines would never make him one of their own, but maybe he could be a consultant or planner of some kind.

  He looked out at the afternoon sun dancing off the pine trees. It was a beautiful day, early spring and just a little chilly. He sat there staring through the window, and the enormity of what he was considering hit him. Leaving Earth…it was almost inconceivable. Yet that is just what he was planning. He knew it would be a one way trip. Those who emigrated where rarely permitted to return, at least not for permanent residency. As a disgraced member of the Political Class, he almost certainly would not be allowed back. He’d be ostracized even more by his peers for his choice to leave Earth. If he went, he went for good.

  He sat there for hours thinking as the dappled sunlight gave way to dusk and then to a clear, crisp, starlit night. Finally, he hoisted himself out of his chair, his joints and muscles stiff and aching from the long day spent sitting. His choice was made. He would go to Armstrong.

  Chapter 13

  1st Division HQ

  Iron Gate Valley, North of Landing

  Farpoint - Epsilon Fornacis III

  It was a beautiful day, sunny with a gentle breeze. Men had colonized Farpoint because of the six warp gates in the Epsilon Fornacis system – the magnificent climate was just a bonus. Few worlds man had discovered offered the kind of paradise Farpoint did, and that made it easier to coax colonists out to what was then the very edge of the frontier. Several decades of expansion had pushed that line much farther out, to the extent that Farpoint was not really even a Rim world anymore. The changes in the map of occupied space had rendered the name obsolete and a little silly, but the locals wouldn’t give it up.

  With the practicality common to Rimworlders, the original settlers had unimaginatively named their first settlement Landing. Built on the site where the first colony ship hit ground, it had grown from a small cluster of huts into a true city, at least by colonial standards. Farpoint, with its half dozen transit points, had become the primary hub for new colonization efforts and commerce with the resource worlds on the frontier. And the navy base was the largest in two sectors, charged with the defense of the entire Rim.

  Farpoint Base had once hosted an entire fleet supported by a reinforced brigade of Marines, but the gains made in the Third Frontier War had eliminated most enemy threats to the Rim. The Alliance outer colonies now
bordered only unexplored space, and the forces stationed at Farpoint had been steadily reduced until only token contingents remained.

  Now, however, the base hummed with activity once again. Admiral West’s Third Fleet had arrived and, if her second line vessels were old and past their prime, they still represented the largest force Farpoint had seen in a generation. Sections of the station that had been long closed were now reopened, and Farpoint’s extensive orbital defenses were fully active. The system’s massive scanning array was operating at full power, searching for any incursion through one of the warp gates.

  On the planet itself, the lush valley north of the capital was now an armed camp. Colonel James Teller’s 1st Brigade had arrived with 3rd Fleet, and their encampment stretched over 10 square kilometers of rolling grasslands. In the center of this small, bustling city, Erik Cain sat outside his headquarters structure, staring down at a large ‘pad set on a folding table.

  Cain had been having difficulty focusing on tasks with his usual intensity. His mind wandered, often to things and people he hadn’t thought about for years. He was troubled, and it was weighing heavily on him. His skills were still there, and his devotion to duty, but something of the motivation that had once driven him was gone. He felt lost.

  But now he was getting ready to send his Marines into harm’s way, and his thinking was razor sharp. Nothing was more important to him than the lives of his men and women, and he was grimly determined to do everything in his power to prepare them for this new ordeal. He felt deep in his gut that many of them wouldn’t survive what was coming. Perhaps most. More ghosts to haunt him in the night.

  The ‘pad displayed the map of local space on the Rim, with large circles representing solar systems, connected by thin blue lines denoting the warp connections that made transit between them feasible. The whole thing looked like a bizarre glowing spiderweb, but Cain saw it for what it truly was…a battlefield.