The Fall: Crimson Worlds IX (22 page)

Stark stood up and walked silently from the command center and out into the hall.  It was time to get off the station.

“I said I want 3g thrust now.  Course 315,270,135.”  Jennings understood Verason’s hesitation, but he’d never been in the habit of repeating his orders, and he wasn’t about to start now.

“Yes, sir.”  The tactical officer acknowledged respectfully, but it was clear he still disagreed with the order.

Jennings didn’t like leaving the Marines behind any more than Verason, but he had priorities, and Erik Cain would have been the first to agree.  Besides, he wasn’t abandoning the Marines.  He was just going far enough to escape the station’s jamming radius and get word back to Roderick Vance.  Then Sand Devil would come back and support the Marines…if any of them were still alive.

“Three gee thrust commencing in five seconds.   Three…two…one.”

Jennings felt the force hit him, pushing him into his chair with the equivalent of 3 times his body weight.  Thrust at 3g was uncomfortable, but it was tolerable, especially for short periods.  He would have pushed the engines harder, to 5g or 6g, if he’d thought they’d take it.  Sand Devil had won her duel with the enemy vessel, but she was severely wounded herself, and Jennings knew he had to treat her with care.

He knew Vance would want to know where Gavin Stark was, but he was less sure the Martian leader would be able to use that knowledge effectively.  The fleet was still out at Saturn, and Jennings hadn’t heard any reports on the status of the battle there.  He didn’t have any updated information on the situation on Mars itself, but he couldn’t imagine it was good.  The Martian emergency services were very well trained, and he was hopeful most of the population had been saved.  But what about the cities they’d been building for over a century?  Were they completely lost?  Would the next generations of Martians live in holes in the ground, as the original colonists did?  Was the civilization they’d created, a source of pride to every Martian, completely gone?

“I want 3g deceleration ready to go in 4 minutes, 30 seconds.”  In ten minutes they’d be outside Stark’s jamming range, sitting at a dead stop.  Then he could send his message and get back to the station.  He didn’t want to miss the final showdown.

Cain crouched down around the corner, his rifle poking just into the corridor.  His people had been halfway down the hall when he heard the enemy troopers approaching.  He snapped out a quick order, and they’d all gotten back under cover just in time.  Getting caught in the open would have been the end of them all.

He’d been exchanging fire with the enemy down at the other end of the hall for a few minutes, ducking around to take well-timed shots just as his opponent was doing.  He’d been faster and more accurate so far, and he’d managed to pick off two of the troopers facing him.  He guessed one was only wounded, but he’d practically blown the other’s head off.  He counted that one as a pretty solid KIA.

“This isn’t getting it done.  We’re stuck here, and they’ve got better intel.  They can watch us, but we’ve got no idea what they’ve got coming our way.”  Cain was peering around the corner as he spoke.  He took a quick shot and ducked back around, dodging a burst of return fire.

“We can’t go down that hallway, Erik, and the other way is a dead end.”  Teller was standing right behind Cain.  The only other way is back up to the surface.”  He didn’t add that the way back was blocked by a pair of massive blast doors that had slammed down to restore pressurization to the inhabited areas of the station.

“No.”  Cain’s voice was like iron.  “We’re not going back.  Gavin Stark is in here somewhere, and we’re going to find him.”  His voice dripped venom.  “And we’re going to kill him.”  He turned and looked past Teller.  “Elliot, give me one of those charges.”

Breyer reached into the container and pulled out another spherical explosive.  “This is pretty close quarters for one of these, Erik.”  He had a doubtful expression on his face, but he handed the globe to Cain.

Cain poked around the corner, spraying the corridor on full auto.  Then he reached back and took the explosive from Breyer.  He punched five seconds on the timer and threw the sphere down the hallway, ducking back around and waving for his men to hit the ground.

The explosion was almost deafening, and a blast of fire came back down the corridor.  An unarmored man would have been killed, or at least injured, but Cain’s armored Marines were fine.  He waited a few seconds, and he yelled, “Now, follow me.”

Cain leapt to his feet and spun around the corner, racing down the blasted corridor, firing on full auto as he did.  The walls were blackened and scorched and sections of the ceiling had collapsed.  He leapt over the debris and whipped around the far corner, firing wildly as he turned on the enemy position.

He stopped shooting almost immediately.  The corridor was shattered, and there were a dozen enemies down.  Most of them were dead, but two of them were moving, trying to crawl away down the hall.  Cain raised his rifle and riddled them both without hesitation.

“Erik…”  Teller’s voice expressed his disapproval.

“We don’t have time for prisoners, James.  We’re here to kill Stark.  Nothing else matters.”  Cain’s voice was without emotion, nothing there but cold-blooded focus.

He turned and moved down the smoky corridor.  “Let’s go,” he snapped.  “It’s time to find Stark.”

“This is an urgent communique from Captain Jennings aboard Sand Devil to Roderick Vance.”  Jennings sat in his chair, speaking into the small microphone on his workstation.  “I repeat, this is a top priority message for Roderick Vance.”

Sand Devil had just cleared the jamming radius from Stark’s base, and Jennings had directed all available power to the long range com unit.  It would take about 12 minutes for the signal to reach Mars and another 12 for a response to travel all the way back.  But Jennings had no intention of staying in place that long.  He was going to send the message and get back to the asteroid base as quickly as possible.

“We have followed Gavin Stark to a previously unknown base in the asteroid belt.  The Marines landed on the surface and are attempting to find Stark now, but they are heavily outnumbered.  We broke away to send this message and will be returning as soon as transmission is complete.  I am sending coordinates with this message, and I request any assistance that is available.”

He took a deep breath.  He doubted Vance had anything to spare, but the chance to destroy Stark was too important to pass by.  He wondered if his communique would draw resources away from rescue operations.  Would civilians die because of his message?

“Jennings, commanding Sand Devil, out.”  He turned toward the Verason.  “Let’s set a course back…”

“New contact, Captain.  Bearing 135,180,090.”  The officer’s face was pressed down to his scope.  “Make that multiple contacts.  Tracking 30+ ships now, sir.”

Jennings felt his morale sink.  Sand Devil was normally one of the fastest ships in space, but with her battle damage, she wasn’t going to outrun anything.  He took a deep breath.  He knew his ship couldn’t battle its way past a lifeboat right now, but he’d be damned if they were going down without a fight.

“Battlestations, Lieutenant.”

Vance stared out over the battered buildings of the Ares Metroplex.  The city wasn’t destroyed, not completely.  Many buildings were hardly damaged, and others were battered but clearly repairable.  But the enormous dome, built of pure hyper-polycarbonate at an almost incalculable cost, was a total loss.  The material was almost indestructible under normal use, but multiple nuclear explosions in close proximity had been too much, and it had collapsed in on itself.

It had fallen completely on one side, with massive shards raining down on the buildings below.  Many of the structures in those areas had been flattened by the huge chunks of clear polymer, and most of the others were damaged.  The center of the dome had fallen as well, but most of one side still stood, despite the loss of structural integrity, a testament to the strength of the material and the tremendous engineering that had gone into its construction.  Mars’ low gravity helped as well.  Vance doubted any of the dome could have remained standing on Earth.

Vance had always been unemotional, able to focus on the facts of a situation, and push aside anything not pertinent to the matter at hand.  He had a reputation for being cold and unfeeling and, while he understood why people had that opinion, it wasn’t the truth.  Vance was a true patriot, and he loved the Martian Confederation.  His calm rationality, coldness to some, had always been used in service of his nation and his people.  His rational mind approached things differently than most people, and his ability to remain calm and clear-minded was his most defining characteristic.  Those who viewed him as cold were likely to substitute pointless emotion for rational action.  They would tell themselves they cared more than a cold fish like Vance, but the Martian spymaster would do more good, and save more of his people, by remaining calm and rational.

Even Vance’s legendary self-control was being put to the test now, as he looked out on the gray, broken remains of his city.  He was silent now, grateful to be locked up in armor, his reactions hidden from everyone else.  A century of work, over a hundred years of constant effort and toil, and it lay before him in ruins.  The city was salvageable…possibly.  But the dome was a total loss.  The remnants still standing defiantly were a hindrance, not an aid.  They would have to be taken down, slowly and carefully, and replaced.  But replaced with what?  Mars was prostrate now.  Her industry was half destroyed and the rest lay abandoned under the shattered domes.  He had no idea how they would manage the rebuilding.  It would be many years before Martians returned to live on the surface and looked up to see the sun and the stars above them once again.

Gavin Stark had his revenge.  Vance had destroyed Stark’s Dakota base, and now Mars had paid the price.  No, he thought to himself, that wasn’t completely true.  Part of Vance wanted to blame himself for provoking the attack by moving against the Shadow Legions facility on Earth, but he knew that wasn’t the case.  Stark would have attacked Mars no matter what.

His Shadow Legions would eventually win their war against the Marines, if only by overwhelming them with sheer numbers.  But there was no way Stark could defeat Augustus Garret, not if the great admiral could supply and maintain his fleet.  Sooner or later he would hunt Stark down, destroy the rest of his ships and strand all his people wherever they were.  Stark couldn’t win his war and establish his dominion across human space, not while Augustus Garret was still out there with his fleet.

No, he thought, cursing his own foolishness, Stark had to destroy any industry that could support Garret’s ships.  He realized now that Mars had always been part of Stark’s agenda, and he cursed himself for his stupidity in not seeing it sooner.  He had fallen for Stark’s trap, sending his ships out to Saturn to intercept the enemy fleet and opening the approach to Mars for Stark’s stealth vessels.  It had been one big deception, and Stark had gotten the better of him.  And his people had paid.

At least most of them were still alive.  Looking at the wreckage around him, he knew that was more than he could have hoped for, though he didn’t know how he and the rest of the council were going to keep them all alive.  The covered farms still stood, and they would continue to produce food, but they had never provided more than half the planet’s needs, even when the supporting services were functioning 100%.  He knew they’d produce less now, possibly not even a third of what it would take to feed the masses of refuges jammed into the overcrowded underground cities.

If Earth slipped into the abyss and the Superpowers finally destroyed each other, he didn’t know how the Martian government was going to feed everyone.  Brief images of food riots and lotteries to determine who would live flashed through his mind, but he quickly pushed them back.  He knew it was a likely future, but it wasn’t one he was ready to face now.

At least the orbital fortresses were still manned and operational.  Stark’s ships had approached through stealth, and Mars’ defenses were still strong, even without the fleet.  If an enemy tried to launch an attack, they’d have a hell of a fight on their hands.

“Mr. Vance, we have received two high priority communiques addressed to you.”  The com unit in the armor was loud, reverberating in his helmet, and he recoiled at first.

“From whom?”

“One is from Admiral Campbell, sir.”

Vance let out a long sigh.  Campbell was alive.  That meant some of the fleet, at least, had survived.  “What does he report?”

“Admiral Campbell advises that the fleet has suffered crippling losses, with half his vessels destroyed and most of the rest seriously damaged.”  The communications officer paused.  “He reports the enemy fleet suffered catastrophic damage as well, including the destruction of its flagship and the presumed death of Admiral Liang.  The surviving ships fled from the battle area, bound for the Centauri warp gate.  Admiral Campbell is on his way back to Mars with all his ships capable of making the trip.  The most heavily damaged fleet units remained behind and are continuing damage control efforts.”

Vance took a deep breath.  A victory, although a Pyrrhic one.  Still, it was good news.  Campbell had done a fine job, though he’d been facing a diversionary force and not the real threat.  But that had been Vance’s mistake, an intel error, and it took nothing away from the honor due to Campbell and his crews.

At least some portion of the fleet survived, Vance thought.  As badly damaged as he suspected most of the fleet units were, he was grateful now for any resources that remained available.

“Who sent the second communique?”  Vance looked up to the sky as he spoke, still trying to imagine the shattered wreckage of the Confederation’s once powerful navy.

“Captain Jennings, sir.  He reports his ship was able to track an enemy contact to a base in the asteroid belt.  He believes Gavin Stark is on that base.”

Vance felt the adrenalin flow through his body like a wave.  If Jennings had managed to find Stark…

  “He engaged an enemy vessel and destroyed it, though his ship was badly damaged in the fight.  He landed General Cain and his Marines on the asteroid, but he reports they are heavily outnumbered, and he fears they will be overwhelmed and destroyed.”

“Did he provide coordinates for this base?”

“Yes, sir.”

Vance turned abruptly and waved to his Marine escort, switching the com to the Marine channel.  “Let’s move, Sergeant, we’re going back down to HQ.”  He started walking toward the bank of lifts.  He had to get back to his office.  He had to reach Admiral Campbell.  Immediately.

“I think we’ve got the reactor stabilized, sir.”  Joseph Vandebaran was John Carter’s chief engineer.  Campbell could hear the exhaustion in his raw voice.  They’d had to cut their thrust twice on the trip back to Mars, so Vandebaran could take the reactor offline and repair cracks in the containment system.

Campbell was impressed with the lieutenant commander’s skill and tenacity. By all rights, John Carter should be in a scrap heap, or more likely blown to its component atoms.  Vandebaran’s efforts had kept the battered Martian flagship functioning and, despite the two short interruptions, on a steady course back to Mars.

Campbell sat in his command chair, trying to get a handle on things.  He’d gone from the mortal danger of an apocalyptic battle to the restrained joy of a marginal victory - then to the shattering news that his home had been destroyed.  Subsequent communiques had updated the initial reports, and Campbell and his people were relieved at the news that casualties had been fairly light, and most of the civilians had successfully withdrawn to the underground shelters.  But the thought of Mars’ great cities lying cold and deserted under shattered domes was too depressing to think about, at least while he was still responsible for the remnants of the fleet.

“Incoming communication, Admiral.”  Christensen had been at her station for 36 hours, and her voice was a raspy whisper.  “It’s from Mr. Vance, sir.”

Campbell’s head spun around toward the com station.  “Patch it through to me here, Lieutenant.”

“Yes, sir.”  She turned back toward her station.  “Coming through now.”

“Congratulations, Admiral Campbell.  We only have patchy information, but it is clear that you performed with your typical skill and bravery and that your people distinguished themselves.  Mars thanks you and your brave naval crews.”

Campbell could hear the fatigue in Vance’s tone too.  He couldn’t imagine what had been happening on Mars, the stress Vance was under trying to save the civilians in the wake of Stark’s devastating attack.  As hard a road as he had traveled the past few days, Campbell was grateful he wasn’t in Vance’s shoes. 

He appreciated Vance’s words of congratulations and support, but it was difficult to feel any joy after a battle so costly, and his victory, if that’s what they were going to call it, was marred by its ultimate futility.  They had destroyed enemy ships, possibly even killed Liang, but it had done nothing to protect Mars from attack.

“I cannot begin to understand the pain and fatigue your people are feeling right now or the enormous damage your vessels have suffered.”  Vance paused briefly.  “But I must ask you to undertake another mission, one of the utmost importance.  I am transmitting you the coordinates of a secret base located in the asteroid belt.  We have excellent intelligence that Gavin Stark himself is present there.  You are ordered to destroy the facility and to kill Stark.”  Vance’s voice paused, and when he continued, his voice was thick with emotion.  “This is the most important order I have ever issued, Duncan, and I am counting on you and your people to see it done, whatever the cost.  The future of Mars, of all mankind may depend on destroying Stark now.”

Campbell sat in his chair listening quietly as the message played.  He felt the rage inside him beginning to boil, the anger and hatred for Stark taking control.  The dead in his fleet, on Mars, even the thousands he himself had killed with his attack on the Dakota base – it was all because of Stark.  He wondered if any single man in history had ever caused such massive death and devastation.  His fleet was in no condition to undertake another mission, but that didn’t matter, not at all.  Gavin Stark had to die.

“I know your people are exhausted, and you have suffered terrible losses, but you must undertake this final effort.  All of us on Mars are with you in spirit, and you carry the future of your nation with you into this last battle.  Good luck to all of you, Duncan.  Vance out.”

Campbell stared straight ahead, all the doubts and pain gone, at least temporarily.  “Lieutenant Christensen, advise Commander Vandebaran that I will need as much power as he can give me.”  He paused, his hands gripping the armrest of his chair.  “And issue an order to all units of the fleet.  We are changing course.  We have one last battle to fight.”