Shadows of the Gods: Crimson Worlds Refugees II (20 page)

*    *    *

John Duke was pacing back and forth, at least as much as
Jaguar’s
cramped bridge allowed. He had his forces lined up in front of the warp gate, their exhausted damage control parties struggling to repair shattered weapons and rewire severed conduits. The fight had been a tough one, but his forces had come through it better than he’d dared to hope, at least in terms of ships lost outright. But every vessel he had was damaged, and many of them badly. If his people had another battle to fight, he suspected it would turn out much differently.

Captain Kato’s task force was positioned next to his own. The larger cruisers could absorb more damage than his attack ships, and Kato’s survivors were in better shape than his own vessels. Still, no matter how he looked at it, his combat strength was well below half of what it had been, especially since Hurley’s fighters had expended all their armaments and half their fuel, and been forced to withdraw. They’d headed back first to rendezvous with the fleet before its transit to X57, but the appearance of enemy ships from that warp gate had forced Compton to zip up in the tanks and make a run back to X54, clear across the system. And that meant the fighters couldn’t catch up…and even if they could, they’d never be able to land on ships blasting away at 30g.

They were on their way to Admiral West’s task force now. Unlike Duke’s forces, West’s armada had two capital ships that could land fighters, though their capacity was too small to accommodate all of Hurley’s craft. Duke didn’t know just how many birds a ship like
Saratoga
could cram in during an emergency, but he suspected Erica West would do whatever it took to find a place for every fighter.
If her ships are still there by the time Hurley’s people arrive…and if they’re bays aren’t blown to bits
.

Whatever happened with the fighters, it was out of Duke’s hands. But right now he was doing anything he could to pass the time. He’d sent
Vanir
through the warp gate to scout out the X58 system. Hans Steiner’s ship had been the lead vessel on the expedition that found the First Imperium Colossus six months before, the very ship that Hieronymus Cutter and his team had gained control of…and led back to save the fleet just in time back in X18. Duke had never been a big believer in superstition, but he figured his people could use anything they could get right now. Maybe Steiner and
Vanir
could repeat their good luck.

He turned toward the tactical station and almost asked for the third time, but he caught himself. Alex Barret had been his tactical officer since the Line. The second
Vanir
transited back into the system, the commander would let him know about it.

He glanced down at his display again, for about the tenth time in half an hour. He was watching as his crews raced to complete their damage control operations, but he doubted anything had changed in the four minutes since he’d last checked.

“We’re getting something through the gate, sir.” Barret’s voice was edgy, tense. In a moment they’d know what was waiting for them on the other side. “Yes, sir…it’s
Vanir
.”

Duke swallowed hard. He knew it would take some time, perhaps half a minute, before
Vanir’s
systems cleared from the transit…and another few seconds for the signal to reach
Jaguar
. He could feel his heart pounding, the clammy sweat on the back of his hands. If Hans Steiner’s ship came back with an enemy fleet close on its tail, Duke knew his task force was as good as destroyed. They were far too close to the warp gate to escape…and they didn’t stand a chance in another fight, not against any substantial force.

“
Jaguar
, this is Captain Steiner on
Vanir
. We have just transited back from X58.”

Duke listened to the words coming in over the com, his eyes focused coldly on the display, looking for the first signs of enemy ships following on
Vanir’s
heels.

“Captain Duke,” Steiner continued, “there are over a hundred ships in X58, perhaps more…including Gargoyles and Leviathans.”

Duke felt his hope fade away. It was over. His squadron wouldn’t last ten minutes once the enemy transited.

“But they’re not pursuing, sir,” Steiner’s words continued. “Not yet, at least. They are stationary…just sitting there thirty light seconds from the warp gate.”

It took a few seconds for the words to sink in to Duke’s head. “Confirm, Vanir,” he said anxiously. “Enemy is thirty light seconds from the gate?” It would take two and a half seconds for his communique to reach
Vanir
…and another two and a half for a reply to make it back. It was the longest five seconds of his life.

“Confirmed, Captain,” came the reply, firm, certain. “Repeat, enemy forces are stationary thirty light seconds from the warp gate.”

We’ve got a chance…time to get away before they can get here
.

“All vessels, prepare to set a course for the X54 warp…” His voice tailed off.

No, we can’t follow the fleet. Not yet. There’s something else we’ve got to do first.

His eyes dropped to the display, to the image of West’s ships, still locked in battle. He couldn’t leave without her people. No, his forces had to help hers…and then they could all leave together. Or not at all.

“Belay that last order. All ships, set a course to the X57 warp gate.” His voice was grim, resolute. He knew what he had to do. “We’re going to help Admiral West and her people.”

Chapter Thirteen

Tactical Command Unit 45023A (Prime City, Planet 17411)

There is activity in the ruins of the city. After so many millennia, my forces detect movement, sound, energy usage. Is it possible the enemy is still active after so many ages of dormancy? It seems unlikely, yet there is no question some force has engaged the surface security system…and eliminated it. Once again there is war.

The biologics have long been believed destroyed, the remnants of their bodies blown away in the winds long millennia ago. There have been no energy readings, no signs of any kind, not in all the thousands of centuries that have passed since the final battles. Until now.

My directives are clear, and they remain as they ever were…rouse the forces of war, prepare to destroy whatever enemy, whether old or new. Yet I have insufficient data to prepare a battle plan, no real knowledge of the adversary I face. And my armies are wasted by the passage of time, hundreds of thousands of warrior units laying idle, rendered useless by millennia of decay. Only a small force remains, and much of that is in poor condition. Still, I know what I must do…and even my reduced force will be sufficient to see it done.

Destroy all enemies, new or old. Preserve the Imperium. Serve the Regent.

X48 System – Planet II

Beneath the Ruins of “New York City”

The Fleet: 131 ships, 30,011 crew

Cutter sat on the edge of a small slab of broken stone, wincing as the medic picked at his arm, cleaning the wound before he fused it. It wasn’t a serious injury, certainly not by Marine standards, but it was his first combat wound, and as far as he was concerned it hurt like hell.

“Nice, Doc.”

“Yeah, Doc. You’re one of us now.”

When the Marines started thanking and congratulating him, he wasn’t sure at first if they were teasing him, but it didn’t take long for the sincerity to sink in. Cutter was no one’s idea of a stone cold warrior, but when Major Campbell and the other Marines got back to the beleaguered rearguard, they found Hieronymus Cutter standing alone over not one but two wounded Marines, holding off the enemy attack with a pistol.

Holding off was an overstatement, perhaps. Cutter realized his weapon had been woefully inadequate to seriously damage a First Imperium warbot…and he also knew he’d survived only because Frasier and his people had gotten there just in time. But he was beginning to realize that didn’t matter to the Marines. He’d stood firm, risked his life to protect their comrades when he might have run. Indeed, he probably
should
have run since his knowledge was beyond valuable to the fleet. But he hadn’t. He’d been scared, in a way he couldn’t even completely recall now…so terrified he half suspected he’d frozen in panic, and that’s why he’d stayed put. But none of that mattered, not to the Marines. He’d done what he’d done, and that’s all they cared about.

Cutter winced hard as the medic pressed down on the wound, lining it up to fuse it together. “Do you want some pain meds, Doctor?”

Cutter desperately wanted to say yes, but the past few minutes of camaraderie with the Marines had made him feel uncharacteristically tough…or at least like he should act that way. “No,” he said, trying to cover up the pain in his voice. “I’m fine.”

“This will only take a minute…then you’ll be good as new.” Cutter wasn’t sure if there was a hint of amusement in the medic’s voice.

He just nodded…and then concentrated on not gritting his teeth.

“Ronnie…”

It was Ana Zhukov, walking up behind him. He pulled his arm when he turned to look at her and he yelped in pain.

“Try to stay still, Doctor Cutter.” The medic had the fuser in his hand, but he was still trying to line up the two sides of the wound to his satisfaction.

Cutter nodded gently, and he turned his head more cautiously, looking up at Ana. “How are you feeling?” She had a nasty bruise stretching all the way down the left side of her face. The enemy fire had blasted down a section of rock from overhead, and one large piece had taken her in the head. The impact had knocked her out, but otherwise she looked okay.

“I’m good,” she said, clearly a little uncomfortable but otherwise fine. “I’m just sorry I missed your heroics. All the Marines are talking about it.”

“I think the Marines are making a big deal out of nothing. If Duncan and the others hadn’t gotten there just when they did, I’d be a stain right now.” He bit down on his lip as he felt the fuser moving across his arm. It wasn’t painful, not really. More…unpleasant.

“There, Doctor,” the medic said a few seconds later. “I’d like to see you take it easy on that for twelve hours if you can, but otherwise you’re good to go.”

“Thank you…” He stretched out his arm. It did feel better, a little sore, maybe, but most of the pain was gone. “It feels great.”

The medic nodded and climbed to his feet. “Let me know if you have any problems. I’ve got other customers waiting…”

Cutter returned the nod. “Thanks again.” Then he turned toward Ana and said, without preamble, “Why are there full-sized warbots on this planet?” The security robots they’d encountered on X18 had been smaller and less powerful than the full-fledged battle units encountered at Sigma-4 and along the Line. But there were top grade military units on X48. They’d just fought a battle against a group of them.

“I don’t know, Hieronymus, but let’s not jump to any conclusions.” She sounded like she was trying to convince herself as much as him.

“We know there was fighting here…but if there is a full scale military force still active, we could be in deep trouble. When Erik Cain fought the enemy front line military units on Sandoval he had what…tens of thousands of Marines and other troops? We’ve got less than two thousand on the whole fleet, plus maybe a thousand Janissaries and miscellaneous forces. And no more than twelve hundred onplanet.” His voice was low. He was starting to wonder just how dangerous the exploration of the city would be. But he wasn’t ready to give up, not yet. And that meant the fewer people who heard him speak like this the better.

“It’s been half a million years, Hieronymus. The forces that invaded Occupied Space were probably gathered from dozens of bases, maybe even hundreds. Even if there had been a large army here once, it’s probable most of it has long been inoperative. We’re probably just running into a few remnants.”

He sighed. “I hope you’re right. Because we’re already here…and we can’t leave without the technology we came for. Whatever is waiting down there.” He gestured off into the corridor.

“Maybe we have enough already,” she said, not even sounding like she believed it. “There was a lot of debris on the surface and just below the ground.”

“C’mon, Ana, you know better than that.” He took a deep breath and rose slowly to his feet. “We found a treasure trove up there, enough to keep a thousand normal scientists inventing stuff for the rest of their lives…but that’s not what we came here for. What we need is a series of revolutionary breakthroughs. Staggering, almost unfathomable discoveries. We’re struggling to survive against an enemy that is not only millennia ahead of our science, but also one that vastly outnumbers us…even now, when perhaps ninety-nine percent of the forces they once had are gone. Nothing less than massive leaps forward will do us any real good.”

Ana just nodded. She and Hieronymus had spoken many times about the fleet’s chances of survival, and they had agreed they were virtually nil, at least without some massive and unpredictable development. Like a stunning scientific discovery. Or, more likely, a whole series of them.

“Are you both ready?” Duncan Frasier stood behind them, his helmet fully retracted. He had crept up behind the two of them while they were talking. Cutter still couldn’t understand how a Marine in more than ten tons of osmium-iridium armor could move so quietly.

Ana turned around and smiled, but she didn’t say anything.

“You’re not going to fight me on this, Duncan?” Cutter had half-expected Frasier to argue with him about moving on. They were less than ten meters below the surface, still climbing around the remains of ancient transit lines…and they’d already suffered another attack, one that had cost the lives of three Marines and one scientist…and had wounded almost a dozen more.

“No, Hieronymus,” he said simply, his deep voice about as soft as it ever got. “I figure if you can stand there over two of my Marines, facing almost certain death, then the least we can do is back you up too. It’s easy to argue when someone expects your people to do all the dying to make something happen. But that’s not you, I can see that now.” Frasier hesitated. “Besides, I know you’re right. We may face terrible danger down there…we may all die. But it
is
our only chance. My men and women might do most of the fighting, but in the end it’s the two of your—and your team—that will save us. Or not.”