MERCS: Crimson Worlds Successors (13 page)

The two men stood staring at each other, silent except for the din of the machinery.  It was obvious they had both known what they were talking about, but Vance had finally said it out loud.  The Martian Confederation had declared the entire Sol system quarantined.  But now, someone had violated that order.  It was a direct challenge to the Confederation, though the council’s shortsightedness masked it.

“But,” Girard finally said, “that means they’ve been able to penetrate our scanning grid.”

The Confederation tracked all traffic going through the Sol system’s two warp gates.  In theory, nothing should be able to get through without the Martian navy knowing everything about it.  But the Martian Torches had partial stealth technology, and the ships Gavin Stark had used to attack Mars thirty years before had been even more proof against detection.  Perhaps this enemy had something similar.  Vance was about to say something to that effect when he realized his friend was already there.

Girard stared at Vance, a growing look of shock on his face.  “You mean we are dealing with someone with stealth ships?”  As far as anyone in Martian Intelligence knew, Stark’s vessels had all been destroyed, the technology lost.  And the other worlds in Occupied Space were too busy trying to become self-sufficient with food and basic industry to pour resources into staggeringly expensive R&D programs.

Vance nodded, exhaling hard as he did.  “It would seem.  So now you understand my concern.  If we are dealing with an enemy with stealth technology, our potential dangers increase geometrically.  It goes well beyond humanitarian concerns for the survivors on Earth.”

“But the council…surely they…”

“They won’t believe it, Andre.  Not without some kind of proof.  I’ve been trying to convince them to expand the Earth support efforts for too long.  They will see it as an attempt on my part to stir up fears to win support for my programs.  And the destruction we saw thirty years ago, the long, slow struggle to rebuild since then…it has made them insular and defensive in their thinking.  They are convinced no one can threaten the Confederation if we put all our efforts into home defense and, as long as that is the case, they will resist all entreaties to divert resources to anything else.”

“So,” Girard said, “you want me to go to Earth.”  He spoke bluntly, without reservation.  He knew they were alone.  That’s why Vance had chosen such an inconvenient spot to meet.  “You want me to investigate, to find out what is going on.”  He paused.  “To get you that proof.”

“That is exactly what I need, Andre, but it is not that simple.”  He hesitated.  “You would be violating the council’s orders.  You would be in danger not only on the mission, but upon your return as well if any word of this leaks out.  You could lose everything.  You could end up in prison.  I am asking a great deal of you.”

Girard nodded.  “Bullshit.  When have either of us let personal risk get in the way of duty?  Real duty, not pandering to a bunch of political hacks.  Just tell me everything you know.  And I’ll need to get there without being noticed.  Perhaps I could slip onto one of your relief ships.”

Vance put his arm out, setting it on Girard’s shoulder.  “You are a true hero, Andre.  And a patriot.  A real one.”  He paused.  “I don’t know how to thank you.”

“Then don’t do it at all.  I’ve served Mars since you were chasing schoolgirls, and I’ll serve her until I die, in whatever manner I must.”

Chapter 9

“All reserves forward now.”  Cyn Kuragina was standing just behind the front line, watching her troopers blaze away at the approaching enemy forces.  They were outnumbered almost ten to one at the point of impact, and now ammunition was running low.  She’d been steadily feeding in the last of her fresh reserves, but now she was down to the final two platoons.  Once those 80 troopers were on the line, she’d have everything committed.  Falstaff’s people were moving around the flank, but there were enemy delaying forces holding them up every klick or so.  And her people weren’t going to last much longer.

She pulled her assault rifle from her back.  She’d been doing a Colonel’s job all day, but now that was done.  Everybody was committed and fighting like hell, and they would stand or fall where they were.  She could accomplish more as another rifle in the firing line than standing around playing commander. 
A single soldier might not seem like much
, she thought,
but one Black Eagle is a force to be reckoned with.

She moved up to the small lip of ground her people were using for cover, and she stared out over the plateau.  The enemy was pounding her positions with rockets and mortars, trying to cut down on her people’s fire while their infantry moved toward the ridge.  The ground had been savaged by two days of constant battle, and the enemy soldiers were using the craters and mounds of disrupted earth as cover.

Half her autocannons were out of action, and the others were running low on ammunition.  She had them firing aimed bursts now, trying to conserve.  The soldiers moving forward were good, really good.  They were maximizing the shattered ground, advancing in short bursts, leapfrogging while their heavier weapons tried to suppress her people along the defensive line.

The approaching soldiers were all the unidentified enemy, the ones with the brown armor.  There were no Gold Spears anywhere.  She’d gotten a dozen attempted communiques from various officers of the Spears—attempts to surrender, no doubt.  But General Cain had issued his orders, and as far as Cyn Kuragina was concerned, that was like the word of God.

A wave of dirt and shattered stones pelted her armor, the result of an enemy shell that landed too close for comfort.  Her eyes flitted up to her display.  Another half dozen of her people were down since the last time she’d checked.  She knew they were taking out more of the enemy, but this wasn’t an even fight.  They couldn’t trade casualties, even at a 2-1 or 3-1 rate.

“Colonel Kuragina…”  It was Cain, and there was something odd in his tone.  A seething anger, malevolent, almost feral.

“Yes, General?”

“Colonel, you are to prepare to attack all across your line.  I want everything committed, nothing held back.”

She felt her stomach clench into a knot.  There was no way her people could charge, not against what was coming at them.  They’d been wiped out before they cleared the plateau.  “Sir?”

“Look at your scanner, Colonel.  The Blue Regiment is inbound.  They’ll be on the ground in three minutes.  When they hit dirt, I want your people to advance immediately and pin the enemy between your forces.”

She glanced at her display again, sending a thought to her AI to widen the scale.  There they were, along the top edge.  Waves of incoming troops, Ian Vandeveer and his 1,500 fresh Eagles.

The tactical situation had just changed.  Dramatically.  “Understood, sir,” she snapped back.  “It will be a pleasure.”  She flipped her com to the unitwide channel.  “White Regiment, we’ve got friendlies inbound.  ETA two minutes forty-five seconds.”  Her tone was changing, becoming more determined with every word, until it was downright bloodthirsty.  “And in two minutes thirty, we charge.  It’s time to end this, Eagles.”

*        *        *        *        *

“Stay on them…nobody escapes.”  Dan Sullivan flashed a thought to his AI, instructing it to administer another dose of stims.  His own adrenalin was pumping hard, but after two days of almost constant fighting, it needed all the help it could get.  “The general wants prisoners, so disable some of these guys and take them alive.”

Sullivan’s company was battered, down to roughly half strength.  It was the worst he could remember an Eagles unit being hurt, and he was proud of those still in action, fighting hard despite the losses and fatigue. At least the others weren’t all dead.  Maybe 20% of his people were KIA, the rest wounded or disabled.  And the Eagles’ wounded got the best care in the history of war.  From the leading edge trauma systems in their suits to the outstanding field hospitals Darius Cain maintained at enormous expense, if an Eagle could survive the first few minutes after being wounded, he had an 87% chance of returning to the colors.  Suit damage and equipment failure also drained strength from a combat unit.  You couldn’t exactly keep fighting if your six ton suit developed a malfunction or power failure.

Still, it had been a brutal fight, and one that had looked for a while like it might turn into the first defeat they had suffered, at least to Sullivan and the rest of Kuragina’s battered White Regiment.  But then the Blues landed.  Sullivan was still amazed at the magnificent accuracy of the drop.  Vandeveer’s people landed right on top of the stunned enemy forces, a level of precision almost unheard of.  The pinpoint landing was a risk, leaving them potentially vulnerable while they extricated themselves from their gear.  But then Kuragina’s people struck, and the shocked enemy found themselves fighting a confused running battle with the Black Eagles.

Sullivan had to admire the foe, at least on one level.  The battle was lost.  Their lines were pierced in a dozen places, and they had no chance to reform and reorganize.  But there hadn’t been a single surrender attempt, nor even one confused rout.  They simply continued to fight, wherever they were, at whatever disadvantage they found themselves.  As General Cain’s plan moved to fruition, it became a battle of annihilation, but still the enemy hadn’t run.  They just kept fighting until they went down.

He saw a cluster of the brown-armored troops caught in a crossfire between two of his squads.  They all went down in a few seconds.  “Kloster, Jing, move up there.  If any of them are alive, take them prisoner.”  General Cain wanted captives from the mysterious enemy the Eagles were calling simply, “the browns.”  And since they didn’t seem to surrender, the word had gone out to try and take them when they were wounded.

He watched his two troopers move forward, carefully, rifles in front of them.  The Eagles were trained to be careful, methodical—and wounded men could still be dangerous.  Sullivan moved up closer, watching his two soldiers.

“Looks like one’s still alive, sir.  Kloster was leaning down as he sent his report, pulling the rifle from the armored gloves of the wounded man.  “He’s hurt pretty bad, Lieutenant, but I think we can get him…”

A loud explosion cut him off.  Sullivan lunged forward, but it was too late.  Kloster had been blown several meters, and it was obvious from his twisted and blood-soaked armor he was dead.  Jing was lying next to the obliterated remains of the enemy soldier.  He looked badly hurt, but he was still alive.

“Medic!” Sullivan shouted as he ran up toward the cluster of enemy bodies.  He held his rifle out in front of him, looking for any signs of life.  He saw one of the figures move slightly, and he didn’t hesitate.  He opened up at full auto, riddling the soldier’s body with hyper-velocity projectiles.  He’d been driven half by rage, but he’d have done the same thing if he’d been totally calm.  He’d lost one of his men, maybe two, and he’d be damned if he was going to allow that to happen again.  He had no idea who these fanatics were, but he was more than ready to send them all to hell.

He opened a channel to headquarters.  “This is Lieutenant Sullivan, commanding Third Company, 1
st
Battalion, White Regiment.”  His eyes were focused on the shattered remains of what had been Private Kloster a moment before.  “I need to speak with Colonel Teller or General Cain.  Now.”

*        *        *        *        *

“General, we’re getting reports from across the field.”  Teller was usually the epitome of cool during battle, but Cain could tell he was upset about something.

“What is it, Erik?”

“The enemy, the unidentified troops.  They’re booby-trapped, Darius.  Every time one of our people tries to take a prisoner, some kind of charge detonates.  We’ve got ten dead and two dozen wounded already.”

“Cancel the order to take prisoners immediately.  Terminate them on sight and at a distance, if possible.”  Cain’s voice was harsh, angry.  He wanted prisoners, but he wasn’t willing to lose any more of his people to get them.  Casualties had already been too high, and his first priority was ending the battle.

“Yes, Erik.”

Cain walked across the command post, and the anger grew inside him.  This was the second mission in a row where someone was fucking with his people.  He had no idea where the unidentified enemy forces had come from, but his gut told him when he dumped a pile of debris from Lysandria on Tom Sparks’ worktable, it was going to match the scraps he’d brought back from Karelia.  And that would prove what he already knew.  Someone was messing with the Black Eagles. And that meant someone was going to die.

“Get me an open line to the Lysandrian forces.”  His people had broken the enemy encryption and compromised their communications networks an hour into the fight, for the native forces, at least.  Breaking the Gold Spears’ security had been a lot tougher, and the unidentified “browns” used a security protocol that had so far defied the Eagles’ best efforts to crack.

“You’re live, General.”  Lieutenant Camerici’s voice was sharp and alert, despite the fact that she’d been on duty 40 of the last 48 hours.

“Attention Lysandrian forces, this is General Darius Cain, commander of the Black Eagles.”  He knew the message would go out on every communications network on the planet—military, civilian, government.  He suspected the authorities would scramble to try to block it, but to no avail.  He had the best technology experts in Occupied Space on his team, and no group of locals was going to beat them.

“The Gold Spears have been defeated.  They are reduced now to scattered bands of refugees begging my soldiers to accept their surrenders.  General Ling, their commander is dead, as is their entire senior leadership.  The unidentified force that fought alongside them has also been destroyed, and my soldiers are now hunting down and wiping out their last remnants.”  His voice dripped with venom, his tone evoking pure menace.  Normally, it would be theatrics, intended to scare the civilians.  But this time it was real.  Darius Cain was livid about the losses his people had suffered.  The Lysandrians had one chance.  One.  And then he would kill them all.

“You have not yet been attacked, but that is only by my order.  Now, the moment of choice is upon you.  My soldiers have suffered considerable losses facing your hired defenders, and at my word, they will fall upon you to claim their vengeance.  Your laughable defenses will not stop my Eagles for an instant.  Your pitiful weapons cannot match our armaments.  You have but one chance to escape total annihilation, for if you spurn this offer, there will not be another.  And your friends and families will share your bitter fates.”

Teller was standing a few meters away, his armored form turned toward his friend as he listened.  Everyone in the command post was doing the same.  Darius Cain wasn’t a man to be trifled with—they all knew that much.  But the pure malevolence in his voice was intimidating on a new and terrifying level.  The Eagles had not lost so many of their number in a fight in years, and their general was not a happy man.  And he was determined to see someone pay.  Preferably whoever was responsible, but if the people of Lysandria wouldn’t help him track down the guilty parties then he would make them all pay.

“All Lysandrian military units will lay down their arms and surrender immediately.  All civil and political leaders will surrender at once and cooperate fully, providing all information requested by my interrogators.  All civilians will consider themselves under martial law and will remain in their homes, leaving only during hours to be posted and announced, and then only on vital business.”

He paused for a few seconds, and when he continued his voice was even darker, more threatening.  “Failure to comply at once and in full will result in the destruction of Lysandria’s cities, the extermination of its armed forces, and incalculable suffering of its people.  If I receive complete and total cooperation, my forces will leave your world intact.  If I do not, I will turn Lysandria into a graveyard.”

Cain turned toward Camerici and moved his hand across his throat.  She hesitated, staring back at him for a few seconds before she turned with a start and closed the com line.  Cain’s people knew there was a toughness and an icy coldness in their leader, even beyond the normal professionalism that governed him, but they had never seen such pure and unrestrained menace.

Somebody was targeting Darius Cain’s Black Eagles, trying to get his attention. 
Well, whoever you are, you have it now.  Let’s see how much you like it.