The Prisoner of Eldaron: Crimson Worlds Successors II (55 page)

Trax could see the officers in his headquarters dropping around him, as the Endgame sequence reached its final stage. He hadn’t given any warning…there was no purpose in allowing any of them to try to stop him, to make a hopeless play for survival.

He looked all around him, and he knew that he was the only one left. In the headquarters, and all across the battlefield, not an Omega soldier remained alive save him.

Another thought invaded his mind, a last attempt of fear and self-preservation to win the day. He could surrender. He was the Omega commander, invaluable to the enemy. They would spare him…indeed, if he bartered what he knew, he might obtain a pardon. He could survive the debacle, escape the retribution that surely awaited him on Vali.

But then he felt a pain in his head, and a voice speaking to him, from the very depths of his mind. It was more conditioning he knew, though he had no knowledge of what it was. It was strong, far more powerful than his ability to resist…and its purpose was clear.
Endgame
, he could hear in his head.
Endgame
.

And he felt his hand slipping toward the workstation, a single finger moving to the flashing red button…

*  *  *  *  *

“General Gilson, I don’t think I’ve ever been so happy to see anyone in my life.” Erik Teller walked across the field, stepping over at least half a dozen enemy bodies before he reached the Marine commander.

“And you, Colonel Teller. I feared we were too late.” Her voice was hoarse, the fatigue in its tone betrayed her years.

“And you almost were. But almost late is another way of saying just in time. So, again, thank you.” His voice became lower, more concerned. “What do you think happened to them all at the end there? I’ve never seen anything like that before.”

“I have,” Gilson said grimly. “In the Shadow Wars. Some kind of suicide program, intended to kill any soldiers before they surrendered or were captured. Gavin Stark had something like it for his Shadow Legions.”

Teller was silent. He knew that Catherine Gilson was one of the Marines’ best, an officer who had seen action for sixty years, and who had served alongside—and against—the greatest warriors mankind had fielded. He thought about the kind of leaders who could recruit soldiers, train them, enjoy their loyalty…and then dispose of them in such a frigid way. But it was too disturbing. And he didn’t have time now for soul searching or philosophical exploration. The mysterious offworld forces were gone, apparently dead to a man. But the Eldari still sat in their battered defensive lines…and in the massive ramparts of the Citadel.

Teller knew that Darius was almost certainly dead. The plan had been to take the Citadel on day two, but it was now day seven. He couldn’t imagine that Darius and two hundred Eagles, even the best of the best, had managed to hold out inside the enemy’s main fortress for so long. It seemed impossible. But none of that mattered. Darius Cain was Erik Teller’s commanding officer…his friend. His brother. And until he knew for certain, until he looked upon Cain’s body with his own eyes, he would never give up.

“If you’ll excuse me, General, my people are about to move against the enemy fortress.” He paused. “We must…see to…General Cain.”

“With your permission, Colonel Teller, I would join you.” Gilson paused. “We will see now if Erik Cain was ever here. He was my comrade for many years, and I would be there when we…when we find out what has happened to him.”

“Of course, General Gilson…it would be an honor to have you along.”

Chapter 39

The Citadel

Planet Eldaron

Denebola System

Earthdate: 2319 AD (34 Years After the Fall)

“Your Excellency, General Davidoff’s forces have surrendered. The enemy is moving toward the Citadel itself.”

The Tyrant leapt to his feet and thrust his fist into the air. “That coward! That miserable traitor. If he ever falls into my hands I will have him devoured by sand wolves!”

He stared around the command center, and his insanity was clear in his eyes. “What am I going to do,” he stammered, oblivious to those around him. “What am I going to do?” His voice was thick with fear.

“Excellency, we must look to the defense of the Citadel.” It was General Calman. He stood and stared at the Tyrant.

“Indeed, General Calman? Is that what we must do? Should I take your advice? It was you who recommended that traitor Davidoff, was it not?”

“There is no time for that now, Excellency. The Citadel is strong…and they will not bombard us with heavy weapons, not while their people are trapped down on the detention level.”

“Yes, they are still trapped aren’t they? Because your men have been unable to wipe out a small force of invaders. For almost three days you have fought them down there…and yet still they hold out.” There was an uncontrolled wildness to his tone.

“It is difficult to attack down narrow corridors, Excellency. It nullifies our numerical advantage…and the soldiers down there are highly skilled…even for Black Eagles.”

“Excuses, General? Is that what you have to offer me?”

Calman stood his ground, but he didn’t respond immediately. He just held his gaze and waited, his hand at his side, slipping closer to his sidearm.

“Of course!” the Tyrant roared. “Darius Cain is down there. If we control Cain we will control his Black Eagles.” His eyes locked on Calman’s. “Go down there, General. I command you to lead the forces. You must attack. Attack, attack, attack. Slay the Black Eagles…but bring Darius Cain to me as a prisoner.”

Calman took a deep breath. His expression was doubtful, full of disgust and repugnance for his leader. But after a few seconds he just nodded. “Yes, Excellency. At once.” He paused another few seconds. Then he spun around on his heels and walked away.

*  *  *  *  *

“Let’s go…move your asses! The General’s down here, and every second counts.” Bull Trent was at the front of his company, racing through the corridors of the Citadel. He knew there were data centers and weapons stations on the upper levels, but he’d pushed his way relentlessly downward, ignoring everything else. It wasn’t sound militarily, but he was driven by one thing above all others. Darius Cain had entered the enemy fortress seeking the detention area, and that was where Trent was most likely to find the general…if he was still alive.

Kuragina’s White Regiment had assaulted the Citadel a few hours before. The Eldari had put up a brief fight, but then the Eagles blasted their way in and chased the routing defenders deep into the old fortress. The colonel had dispersed her forces to find and seize control of the Citadel’s key facilities…and she had given Trent his orders. Find the general. At all costs.

Bull was as fearless as soldiers came, relentless and unstoppable. But now he was distracted. Danger didn’t affect him, nor pain, nor fatigue. But he had Colonel Teller with him…and General Gilson too. That was more top brass than he could handle…especially in a situation like this. He was moving recklessly, sacrificing all caution to try to find General Cain as quickly as possible. The last thing he needed was to get the Eagles’ acting commander killed, not to mention the Marines’ senior general.

His forces were moving up to an intersection, and he waved for them to stop while he crept forward. He leaned up against the wall and looked around the corner. There was a single enemy soldier about eight meters down the hall, clearly a sentry of some kind.

Guarding what? They’ve got worse problems now than guarding some hallway this deep. Unless
…

It was just a feeling, but suddenly he was convinced. They were close. He felt a surge of energy, a compulsion to do something, and without warning he lunged around the corner, running down the corridor toward the guard.

The Eldari soldier spun around, leveling his rifle at the onrushing giant. But Bull jerked his body to the side hard, and the enemy’s fire went wide. The guard tried to turn his weapon and fire again, but he was too late. Bull slammed into the unarmored man, sending him flying into the wall. The Eldari dropped his rifle and crumpled to the ground.

Bull reached down, his massive armored hand grabbed the injured man and pulled him from the floor. “Where?” he roared. “Where is the detention area?”

The man was disoriented and in pain. He moaned loudly, but he didn’t answer.

“You will tell me right now,” Bull said, the malice in his voice almost freezing the air, “or I will tear you apart.” He swung the helpless soldier around, gripping an arm in each of his hands. He pulled, careful not to put too much strength behind it. He didn’t want to tear the man in half. Not yet, at least.

“Down the corridor,” the terrified man said. “Then left.”

Bull turned and tossed the Eldari toward one of his Eagles. “Hold on to him,” he said, his voice a savage growl. “If his directions are wrong, kill him.”

Bull turned and moved forward, stopping after another ten meters or so. He cranked up his external microphone and listened. Gunfire.

“Alright Eagles, there’s some kind of a fight ahead of us…so let’s go find the General.”

He pulled his assault rifle from his back and checked the cartridge. Then he started down the hallway.

*  *  *  *  *

Darius Cain crouched down inside the doorframe, his rifle poking out. He was using his ears as well as his eyes, waiting for an enemy to show himself…even to peer around a corner. He was firing single shots…all his people were. Their ammo was almost gone. Indeed, if the enemy had been more aggressive—less afraid of the Eagles’ deadly-accurate fire—they would have been overrun already. But this was a contest between Black Eagles and vastly inferior soldiers. Numbers could sustain a force, keep it in the battle until victory finally came, but it didn’t create courage. Cain and his people had held the enemy off for several days, killing at least twenty for every one they lost. But Darius knew the brave stand was almost over.

His people wouldn’t give up when their ammunition was gone. But the enemy would push down the corridors, firing on full, driving his Eagles back into each of the cells. There would be dozens of last stands, desperate hand to hand engagements as the enemy poured into each of the small rooms. His people would fight like wildcats, slashing with their blades and punching with their nuclear-powered fists. They would kill hundreds of the enemy…but in the end they would lose. The numbers they faced were just too great. And he had less than fifty of his original two hundred still in the fight.

His thoughts drifted to Alcabedo, to the terrible final duty he had charged his officer to undertake. He felt sick to his stomach. Of all the things he’d done, of the fateful decisions he’d made, nothing could compare to ordering his father’s own death. It was an act of mercy, he knew, but he still felt somehow…unclean. His mind went back over the operation.
We came so close…what could I have done differently?

No, we didn’t come close, not really
.
The Eagles must have been defeated outside the Citadel. Otherwise, Erik would have been here
. He felt a wave of regret, of futility. But he knew that he’d had no choice.

He saw an Eldari soldier peer around the corner, and he snapped up his rifle and fired…almost on instinct. The enemy had barely extended one eye around the edge, before Darius put a hyper-velocity round right through it. The man was thrown back, and he fell into the middle of the intersection with a thud.

Darius heard his autoloader pop out the empty clip, replacing it with another. His last.

He took a deep breath.
Soldiers have come to this moment throughout human history. Some die suddenly, without warning, shot by a sniper or obliterated by an exploding shell. But many have stood as we do, facing certain death but remaining firm to the end. And now is my time. Our time…

Suddenly, his com erupted. The jamming that had limited communications to twenty meters’ range was suddenly gone, and a familiar voice was speaking.

“General Cain? Darius?” The voice was hoarse and worn, but Darius recognized it at once. Erik Teller.

“Erik?” he answered, not entirely able to keep the stunned disbelief out of his voice.

“Yes, Darius.” The voice on the com was heavy with relief. “My God, old friend…I was sure you were dead.”

“Not dead yet…but I doubt it’s going to be long now.”

“No,” Teller snapped. “We’re on the way. Maybe a hundred meters…moving straight for the detention area.”

Cain was stunned. “You’re here?” His discipline failed him and he stood there, trying to comprehend what he had just heard.

“Yes…the battle outside the city is over. We’ve got units moving throughout the Citadel, but I’m with Bull Trent and a company of Kuragina’s troops. We’re on the way to your position.”

Darius’ head turned abruptly. He’d been listening to Teller, but now he heard something from down the hallway. It was gunfire. And not just any gunfire. He’d have recognized his Eagles’ assault rifles anywhere.

“I can hear you coming,” he said, his voice filled with emotion…relief, gratitude. “I can hear your rifle fire.”

He forced his mind back to focus, and he took a stim, feeling the almost instant wave of artificial energy. He snapped his rifle back up and moved toward the door. This was it…the final battle. The last few minutes. His Eagles were coming for him, for all their brethren trapped in this detention area.

And for you too, Father. For you too
.

He whipped around and fired at an Eldari who had been too careless. And as he did, he could hear Teller’s people, their fire becoming louder as it approached.

My God
, he thought, trying to stay focused on the fight but finding it difficult.
We did it…we actually did it.

Chapter 40

The Citadel

Planet Eldaron

Denebola System

Earthdate: 2319 AD (34 Years After the Fall)