The Prisoner of Eldaron: Crimson Worlds Successors II (11 page)

The officer took a step toward the bed. “Now, we must go, Mr. Vallen. These two gentlemen will accompany you while you get dressed.”

Vallen paused for a few seconds, but he didn’t have the courage to push the captain any further. He moved to the side of the bed and stood up, wrapping a sheet around himself as he did.

“What about me?”

It was the girl. Vallen stared over at her with a blistering expression on his face. He was too scared to challenge the Marines standing in his room, but he had no such hesitation in dealing with his recent bedmate. She was the daughter of one of his retainers, sharing his bed half out of awe at snaring Vallen’s interest and half out of intimidation, about the fear of what a refusal would have meant to her family’s position.

“Shut up,” Vallen snapped at her, his voice dripping with venom. He’d enjoyed the lopsided nature of their relationship. Boris Vallen was a bully at heart, and now that he was standing here and submitting to these Marines, his anger had to come out somewhere.

“That is not necessary, Mr. Vallen,” the Captain said sharply. He turned toward the girl. “You will be released as soon as we leave. You are to return to your quarters and remain there until you receive other instructions.” His tone was softer, not quite soothing, but close enough for a Marine in full combat gear.

He turned and stared at Vallen, momentarily allowing his true feelings to slip onto his face. “Hardesty, Jamis…please help Mr. Vallen get to his feet and assist him in getting dressed. We are on a timetable.” He stood there and watched as the two burly Marines grabbed Vallen’s shoulders and half-walked, half-pushed the whimpering man toward the closet.

“You can go,” he said softly to the still-sobbing girl. “Go home…and stay there for the rest of the day.”

*  *  *  *  *

“Admiral Campbell, sir…” The sentry was clearly surprised when Campbell emerged from the shuttle’s hatch, but he quickly snapped to attention. “It is quite a surprise to see you, sir.” Duncan Campbell was a legend in the Martian navy, but he had been retired for several years, and now he was standing in
John Carter’s
shuttle bay, clad in his full dress uniform.

Duncan Campbell nodded and smiled. “As you were, crewman. I’m just here to pay a visit with Admiral Melander.”

“Yes, sir…welcome aboard. I will advise Admiral Melander that you have arrived.”

Campbell nodded, struggling to keep his face from betraying the tension he felt. He knew Xavier Melander well. Indeed the top Martian admiral had been his protégé, and his self-chosen replacement when he’d finally stepped down from the top job. But friendship only went so far, and Campbell wasn’t sure how Melander would react to what he had to say.

“That will be fine, crewman.”

Tell him his old friend is here to lure him into a treasonous plot…

The sentry turned toward the com unit and announced Campbell’s arrival. A few seconds later he turned toward the admiral and said, “Admiral Melander will see you immediately, sir. I will arrange an escort for...”

“I think I remember my way to the admiral’s quarters well enough, crewman.” Those rooms had been Duncan Campbell’s home for many years.

“Very well, sir. As you wish.” The sentry seemed uncomfortable letting so august a personality as the Confederation’s legendary fighting admiral walk alone through the corridors, but he simply stepped out of the way and stood at attention. Arguing with flag officers wasn’t in his job description.

Campbell walked down the corridor toward the central lifts. He knew he could take one of the intraship cars, but he preferred to walk.
To procrastinate. You’re in no rush to see if your friend of thirty years has you clapped in irons
.

The corridor was long. It was almost half a kilometer from
Carter’s
shuttle bay to the main lift. The Martian behemoth, and her sister ship
Sword of Ares
were the largest and most powerful vessels ever built by man, eclipsing even the Alliance’s vaunted Yorktown class battlewagons. But the Yorktowns were all gone, the last of them during the Second Incursion, along with
Sword of Ares
.
John
Carter
was a vestige of a lost time, before the Fall, when mankind’s industry and military might was vastly superior to what it had become.
Carter
was a symbol, a statement to any who looked upon her awesome presence that the Martian Confederation alone retained the power to field such a ship. It was an image that required one to forget the vessel was a fortunate remnant, a freak survivor, forty years old and patched together with a hodgepodge of different systems. Still, even in her weakened state, she was the strongest thing in space. By far.

Campbell slipped into one of the lift cars. “Deck ten,” he said softly, feeling the acid in his stomach as he got closer to his old friend.

“Deck ten,” the AI said as the doors opened.

Campbell stepped out into familiar territory. Deck ten, officers’ country. He walked down the hall, back toward the ship’s outer hull.
John Carter’s
flag bridge was deep within the center of her two million tons, as protected as a space could be. But the ship’s designers, no doubt assuming the admiral would be at his station on the bridge in battle, had put the fleet commander’s quarters right up against the ship’s hull, allowing them to provide such an august personage with a panoramic view of the majesty of space through a pair of expansive hyper-polycarbonate windows.

Campbell had scoffed at the idea the day he’d moved in so many years ago, wondering why anyone would worry about such things on a warship. But he’d come to truly appreciate that view, the relief from staring at cold metal walls…especially on long voyages. He knew Xavier Melander well enough to suspect he felt the same.

He walked down to the end of the hall, stopping at a door with a Marine guard standing in front of it. It was tradition to post a sentry outside the admiral’s quarters, one Campbell had always thought unnecessary. But now he wondered if this Marine would be the one who’d end up arresting him when Melander heard what he had to say.

“Admiral Campbell!” The Marine snapped to attention. “Admiral Melander is waiting for you, sir.”

Campbell nodded as the guard stepped aside, pressing the button to open the door. The steel hatch slipped open, and Campbell stepped inside.

“Duncan!” Xavier Melander was slightly disheveled, his tangled hair hastily combed and his off-duty uniform a bit rumpled. He was a tall man, and slender. He stood a good five centimeters over Campbell’s own considerable height, but the Scot outweighed his taller friend by ten kilos. Most of that was his large build…and a bit the slight paunch that had been a side effect of retirement.

“How are you, old friend?” Campbell stepped forward and extended his hand. “It’s been a long time.”

“Far too long.” Melander paused, his smile morphing into a concerned expression. “But I don’t think this is a social call.” He ran his eyes up and down over Campbell’s uniform. “Dress reds? At least you still fit in them.” He stared at his old comrade for a few seconds. “Barely,” he added, with the sort of slightly mocking humor common between old friends.

Campbell knew he wore his tension on his face, but he couldn’t stifle a small laugh at Melander’s friendly jab. “Yes, I had to wiggle around a bit to get into the pants, but you know these damned things are uncomfortable no matter what.”

“That I do…that I do.” Melander paused. “I’d offer you a Scotch if it wasn’t so indecently early.”

“Maybe you’d better…” Campbell’s voice was tight. It was time to tell his friend what was going on…and see what the commander of the Confederation’s navy did about it.

“So it’s that kind of visit, is it?” Melander took a few steps over toward a small counter, reaching up and pulling two small glasses out of a small rack. He leaned over, and a few seconds later he pulled out a bottle, about half full. “From Earth…my last, I’m afraid.”

The Fall had effectively destroyed all Earth industry, leaving little behind but radioactive debris and tiny villages of survivors scratching out sustenance-level existences on a terribly wounded planet. There had been an active market for Earth products, wines and liquors and various foodstuffs, but that had long ago petered out. Thirty-four years later there was little left, save the odd bottle stashed somewhere…and generally not for sale at any price.

Campbell felt a twinge of guilt. Melander was a good friend…and he was about to put him on the spot in an incredibly difficult way. Still, he needed a drink first. “You are too generous, old friend. My own stash is long gone.” He walked toward the small bar as Melander poured two drinks, and offered him one. He took it gratefully and held it up. “To friends,” he said softly.

“To friends,” Melander repeated.

Campbell gulped the Scotch, savoring the smoky liquid as it slid down his throat. He nodded and set the glass on the bar. Melander followed suit. Then he looked right at his friend, his eyes wide. “So tell me why you’re here, Duncan. The thought of something having
you
so nervous is unnerving.”

Campbell nodded and took a deep breath. “You are familiar with the episode with the slave ring on Earth and their base on Eris, aren’t you?”

Melander nodded. “Of course. Bad business all around. There was a lot of grumbling about it. Some people in the fleet didn’t like the Black Eagles coming in and cleaning up what should have been our mess to deal with. There was even talk about chasing them out of the system if they come back.”

“Well, you’d be well advised to quash that kind of nonsense. The Eagles are better than us, Xavier. The last thing Mars needs is a conflict with them.”

Melander was silent for a few seconds. Campbell knew his friend didn’t like being told the Martian forces were anything less than the best in Occupied Space. Campbell wasn’t any happier about it than Melander. But he was too old an officer to ignore fact. And the fact was, Darius Cain’s warriors were the toughest outfit that currently existed, possibly that had ever existed.

“I know you’re right.” Melander’s voice was soft, with the slightest hint of defeat for having to acknowledge the Black Eagles’ superiority. “But it still hurts to admit it.”

“Well, fortunately the Eagles are more likely to be on our side than lined up against us.” He looked right at Melander. It was time to get to the point. “But the Eagles had to do it, Xavier…because we couldn’t. Because the council wouldn’t let us. Roderick Vance tried his best, but they are dead set on worrying about Mars and Mars only…as if what happens in the rest of Occupied Space—and even the solar system—doesn’t affect us.”

Melander nodded. “So we get to the heart of it. Roderick Vance is planning something…so why don’t you tell me what it is? I know General Astor has been moving troops around, positioning his most loyal units around the Metroplex. So tell me…is this a power play, some kind of bear hug to influence the council?” He paused, staring straight into Campbell’s eyes. “Or is it a full-blown coup?”

“How do you know all this?” Campbell stood there with a stunned look on his face.

“You didn’t think you left the fleet in the hands of a fool, did you Duncan? A large base on Eris? Slaving parties on Earth, right under our nose? The council may be full of fools, my old friend, but I knew Roderick Vance would do something.” A pause. “Though if it is a coup, I must say, I am surprised he chose such an audacious path. And you’re here to secure my participation…are you not?”

“I am impressed, Xavier. And yes, that is why I am here.” Campbell felt his stomach twist into knots. He’d imagined dozens of times how he was going to break the news to Melander, but he’d never imagined an exchange like this.”

“Is there no other way?” Melander’s voice was deadly serious.

“No. Roderick has tried repeatedly to sway the council. They’d rather bury their heads than deal with the fact that we likely face a new threat.”

Melander stood unmoving, taking a deep breath…then another. Finally, he said, “I wouldn’t do this, Duncan, not for anyone but Roderick Vance. He’s the only one I’d trust, myself included, not to abuse the power he seizes.”

Campbell felt a wave of relief. “You know, all the way up here I was imagining myself getting dragged off to the brig…”

“You underestimated me, my friend. But I will forgive you.”

“No. I’d never underestimate you. But you are a patriot…and I had a difficult time with this myself. We live our lives, and we rarely imagine moments like this, where we must look past what we believe in, take actions we might have condemned in normal circumstances.”

“Duncan…I’ve never told you much about my past, before we became friends.” Melander’s voice was soft, a heavy sadness clinging to his words. “I was a young officer when the bombs fell…I was with you when we fought the Shadow fleet. On
Ranger
.

“I know.” Campbell’s voice was sympathetic.
Ranger
had lost over 60% of its crew in that fateful battle…and she returned when the rest of the fleet limped back to find Mars’ great cities destroyed, their magnificent domes shattered.

“But you don’t know I was married then…”

Campbell’s eyes widened. He hadn’t known. Few naval officers married, especially back then, before the Fall. It was just too difficult to balance family and a career that took one away for years at a time. And he’d never known Xavier Melander to have a wife…

“Yes,” Melander continued. “Julia. And a daughter…Maria.” He paused, taking a quick breath and fighting back emotions that still clearly plagued him even after so many years. “Whatever you say about Roderick Vance and whether he should have been able to prevent the attack, he did a remarkable job of evacuating the people that day. To save ninety-seven percent of the population in such circumstances was extraordinary.”

Campbell felt his stomach tense up again. He knew where this was going…

“But three percent was still a lot of people, Duncan. About six hundred thousand.” He was looking right at Campbell, but his friend knew he was seeing something else. “They died, Duncan. They died in that rubble, both of them. I know billions were killed on Earth during the Fall, and my pain is no different than anyone else’s. But they were
my
family.”