MERCS: Crimson Worlds Successors (2 page)

Any soldier of his who behaved that way would do well to be lost in the conflagration.  It would be a better fate than that which awaited him at Cain’s hands.  Darius Cain was idolized by his men, but not because he was easy on them.  He disciplined them mercilessly, not hesitating to execute any who broke the code of conduct he had established.  They loved him because he had taken them in as scum, the detritus of a hundred worlds, and he’d made them into the best, a legion of brothers and sisters feared everywhere men dwelt among the stars.  It was his iron hand that had turned this group of refugees and misfits into the most respected warriors in human-occupied space.

Erik Teller stood next to Cain, looking out over the dying city.  He sighed, the sound of his breath coming through the com slightly amplified.  “You sound tempted.”  He snorted with an abortive laugh.  “I don’t imagine it would take us more than an hour.”  His voice was dripping with contempt for their allies and employers, just as Cain’s had been.  “Still, I suppose that would be a breach of contract, don’t you think?  The spirit of the agreement, at least.  I’m not sure the document itself expressly forbids firing on the Raschidans.”

Cain didn’t respond right away; he just stared out over the city and its environs.  Finally, he turned toward his second-in-command—and only real friend.  “I guess we need fools like this.  If they had any idea how to fight a war, the Emir wouldn’t be paying us 60% of his GDP to do it for him now, would he?”

“No,” Teller replied.  “I don’t imagine he would.”  He paused, taking a quick look out over the field.  “Speaking of which, the contract calls for us to capture Petersburg and reduce the enemy armed forces below 10% effectiveness.”  He turned and looked toward his friend and commander, though the gesture was a relatively pointless one in armor.  “I think we’re already there, but we will certainly be by dawn.  That makes the final payment due.”

“The Emir will pay.”  Cain sometimes wondered which of the two had affected the other more.  They’d been friends for as long as either could remember, inseparable almost from birth.  Cain was the colder of the two, at least in most circumstances.  But Teller always knew to the milli-credit what they were owed and when it was due—and he had no patience for deadbeats or excuses.  He’d made some truly horrifying threats against employers who’d tried to get out of making payments and, to date, no one had dared to call his bluff.  Stiffing the Black Eagles took more courage than most politicians or petty dictators possessed.

“Send a message to Commodore Allegre.  He is to send down the first retrieval wave at 0700 planetary time tomorrow.”  Cain had considered ordering his forces to break off immediately, but he was meticulous about meeting the terms of a contract.  If the Eagles had agreed to a 90% degradation of Karelian combat capabilities, that is what they would deliver.  “And order Vandeveer and Cornin to pursue any enemy military units that attempt to flee from the city.  Two regiments should be enough to round up any holdouts by morning.  I want the rest of the troops out of the city tonight.  Raschid’s toy soldiers will be running wild, and I don’t want our people anywhere nearby when it happens.”

“I’m on it, Darius.”  Teller’s voice went silent.  Cain knew his friend was switching channels on his com, sending out the orders.

He saw sudden movement off to the right, and his head snapped around instinctively.  Half a dozen Raschidan soldiers were chasing someone.  He’d seen a thousand incarnations of something similar and, while he didn’t approve of such conduct, he knew it was part of war.  But something caught his attention this time, and he cranked up his visor magnification to get a better look.  It was a young woman running from the soldiers, and his eyes fixed on her the second she came into his view. 

She looked to be in her early twenties.  She was caked in mud and bleeding from a wound on her arm, but even so, Cain could see she was beautiful.  Still, he wasn’t one to be distracted from his work by a pretty face—or anything else she might have to offer.  He had half a dozen mistresses back at base, and no taste for anything more binding than a night’s passion.  Indeed, he had multiple partners for just that reason, to prevent any problematic attachments or emotional baggage from developing.

Nevertheless, he found himself walking slowly down the hill, directly toward the approaching party.  His eyes moved from the girl to her pursuers, and he quickened his pace.  He knew what would happen when they caught her.  The Raschidan animals would do it right on the ground, wherever they managed to take her down.  And for some reason, Darius Cain decided to stop it.

“Darius, where are you going?”  There was concern in Teller’s voice.  The Karelians hadn’t put up much of a fight, but it was
still
a warzone.

“Just walking down here a bit,” Cain replied, clearly distracted.  “I’ll be back.”

Teller turned and gestured for Cain’s guard to follow him.  There were half a dozen on duty at any time, the pick of the Black Eagles.  It was the one item on the organizational chart that Cain himself hadn’t specified.  The bodyguard had been Teller’s idea, and he’d argued for it until Cain had gotten so sick of hearing about it, he’d agreed.

The heavily-armored soldiers trotted off down the hill after their commander.  Two pushed forward, running ahead of Cain, while the others fell in around him.  They carried their assault rifles at the ready, prepared to blast anything or anyone that threatened their commander.

Cain moved swiftly down the hillside.  “Hold, you men,” he yelled to the approaching Raschidans.  The AI in his suit translated the command into the soldiers’ native Arabic.  They ignored him, and a few seconds later, he repeated the order.  The AI translated again, but it failed to replicate the frigid threat embedded in Cain’s tone.

“Who the hell are you?” one of them shouted back, still chasing the girl.  “Go fuck your brother, mercenary.  We are the Emir’s men.  This planet is ours now.  And this woman is for us.”  The AI was translating for Cain as well, though multiple jobs done for former Caliphate colonies had given him a working knowledge of the language.  His accent was terrible, so he rarely tried to speak it, but he was fairly adept at understanding what he heard. 

Cain ran up the rest of the way, reaching the girl just as one of her pursuers managed to grab her and knock her to the ground.  The Raschidan was worked up into a frenzy of rage and lust, and he barely paid attention to Cain, reaching down toward his victim and tearing at the simple dress she wore.  He had it halfway down when Cain’s armored hand grabbed him like a vice and tossed him three meters across the ground.

The others reacted, reaching for their guns.  Cain’s guards were faster, and two of the Rashidans burst into clouds of red mist, their bodies almost disintegrated by the hyper-velocity rounds of the Eagles’ assault rifles.  The others dropped their weapons and raised their hands, staring at the armored soldiers in abject terror.

Cain looked at the motionless soldiers, his eyes quickly picking out the commander.  “Now, who was that you wanted me to fuck?” His voice was like the cold of space itself, but the AI’s translation spared the Raschidans the worst of it.

“I…we…are sorry.  Sir?”  The hapless soldier was guessing.  The Eagles’ suits were identical, from the lowliest rookie private to their general and commander-in-chief.  Cain had never had the ego-driven need for fancy uniforms, and he saw no reason to give gifts to enemy snipers.  He knew what his people did to enemy officers kind enough to advertise their presence on the field, and he had no desire to see that done to him—or any of his people.

Cain ignored the petrified soldier, and he knelt down next to the woman.  She’d fallen hard, and it looked like her arm was broken.  She’d been shot too, and while it didn’t look life threatening, he was willing to bet it hurt like hell.  He flipped the com to his guards’ channel.  “Get a med unit over here immediately.  He toggled the com back to the external speaker.  “Are you OK?”  He could see she was in pain—and terrified as well.  “Stay calm.  No one is going to hurt you.”

She turned and looked back up at him with hatred in her eyes.  “Do you think I’m scared of you?”  She spat at him.  “You are murderers, barbarians.  You only know death.”

Cain let her continue her tirade.  She was even more beautiful than she’d looked from a distance.  “Yes, I am all those things, I suppose, but for right now I intend to help you.”  There was something about her that piqued his interest.  He had just saved her from being gangraped and probably murdered, but she’d launched right at him with all the piss and vinegar she could muster.  There was little Cain respected more than courage, and this young woman seemed to have more than her share.

“Is that why you came here?  To help?”  She leapt toward him and slammed her fist into his armor, recoiling in pain as she did. 

He waved off his guards, who he thought just might shoot her when she moved toward him.  “My armor is extremely tough.  I wouldn’t do that again.”  He glanced up at his tactical display, watching the med team approaching.  “I’ll make a deal with you, though.  My medics are going to take you back to one of our field hospitals so we can do something about that gunshot wound and that broken arm.”  He smiled, though his armor hid it.  “Go along with them quietly and, later, I’ll give you another shot once I’m out of my armor.”

“No,” she yelled.  “I can’t go.  I have to find my sister.  She’s alone in the city.”

Cain imagined her staggering through burning ruins, wounded and in pain, but refusing to give up the search.  His admiration grew.  This woman was no pathetic sheep, like most of her fellow Karelians.  “You’re never going to find her.  You’ll just end up dead somewhere in the middle of the chaos.”  He gestured toward one of his guards.  “But I will send this man with you to the hospital.  Tell him about your sister—her description, where you last saw her…everything.  And I will send a company of soldiers to find her and get her out.”

She stared at him, her expression a mixture of contempt and confusion.  “Why would I trust you?”

He stared down at her, though he knew all she could see was the bright reflective plate of his visor.  “Because you seem like a realistic woman…and I’m the only thing you’ve got right now.  And I have no reason to lie to you.  There is nothing you have that I couldn’t take right now.  Nothing I couldn’t make you do.  But I am just going to see that your wounds are treated…and send a party out to find your sister.”  He waved toward his guard, flipping his com unit as he did.  “Sergeant, accompany this woman to the aid station.  Get as much information about her sister as you can, and dispatch a special ops team into the city to find her.”

“Sir!”  The guard spun around and gestured to the med team, pointing toward the woman.

Cain watched as the medics moved to pick her up and lay her on the stretcher.  She stared at them suspiciously, but she didn’t resist.  The gurney had been designed to carry a fully-armored soldier, and she looked tiny laying in the middle.

“They won’t hurt you,” he called to her.  “And tell the sergeant everything you can about your sister.  My people will find her for you.”  He paused then added, “What is your name?”

“Ana,” she replied, her tone still bitter, but now also confused.  “Ana Bazarov.”

He watched as the medical team carried her away then he turned back toward the Raschidan soldiers.  His normally clear mind was clouded with anger. 
Ana Bazarov
, he thought, the image of her face lingering in his mind.

“What shall we do with them, sir?”  The commander of his guard stood at attention.  The Raschidans hadn’t moved.  They cowered under the guns of his troopers.

Cain stared at the pathetic creatures.  They had dropped their weapons and given themselves up.  But the image of them pursuing Ana was still in his mind.  They were creatures, and if he let them go they would just torment and kill more civilians.  He imagined what they had been about to do to Ana, and anger coursed through his body.

Ana Bazarov
.

“Kill them,” he said coldly.  Then he turned and walked away.

*        *        *        *        *

“Let’s move.  If we catch them at the river, we’ll bag the entire force.  And then we can all take a nice leisurely ride back to the ship.”  Sergeant Reaves was jogging along, shifting from side to side to keep from launching himself into the air.  His armor magnified his own strength exponentially, and a slow jog would bounce him 5 or 10 meters up if he wasn’t careful.  That was bad news on a battlefield, where it tended to make you a target for every bogie within half a klick. 
Not that any of this bunch is likely to shoot straight enough to pick me off
.  It was the general opinion of the regiment—and the rest of the Eagles, he’d bet—that these Karelians were just about the worst fucking soldiers they’d ever seen.

Still, if General Cain had drilled one thing into their heads, it was
always be careful!
  The worst half-assed toy soldier in Occupied Space could scrag your ass if you let your guard down, and none of the Eagles wanted to be some other fool’s lucky shot.

The whole section was moving quickly.  The Karelians were unarmored, and there was no way they could outrun the Eagles.  With Reaves’ section on the left, and Dolan’s on the right, there was nowhere for the refugees to run but straight for the river.  And they’d never get across before they were captured.  Or wiped out—that would be their choice.