Red Team Alpha: A Crimson Worlds Adventure Read online

  Red Team Alpha

  A Crimson Worlds Story

  Jay Allan

  Copyright 2016 Jay Allan Books Inc.

  All Rights Reserved

  Contents

  The Crimson Worlds Series

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  Author’s Note

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Red Team Alpha Duty Roster

  Free Martian Confederation

  The Crimson Worlds Series

  (Available on Kindle Unlimited)

  Marines (Crimson Worlds I)

  The Cost of Victory (Crimson Worlds II)

  A Little Rebellion (Crimson Worlds III)

  The First Imperium (Crimson Worlds IV)

  The Line Must Hold (Crimson Worlds V)

  To Hell’s Heart (Crimson Worlds VI)

  The Shadow Legions (Crimson Worlds VII)

  Even Legends Die (Crimson Worlds VIII)

  The Fall (Crimson Worlds IX)

  Crimson Worlds Successors Trilogy

  MERCS (Successors I)

  The Prisoner of Eldaron (Successors II)

  The Black Flag (Successors III) – March 2017

  Crimson Worlds Refugees Series

  Into the Darkness (Refugees I)

  Shadows of the Gods (Refugees II)

  Revenge of the Ancients (Refugees III)

  Winds of Vengeance (Refugees IV)

  Storm of Vengeance (Refugees V) – May 2017

  Crimson Worlds Prequels

  (Available on Kindle Unlimited)

  Tombstone (A Crimson Worlds Prequel)

  Bitter Glory (A Crimson Worlds Prequel)

  The Gates of Hell (A Crimson Worlds Prequel)

  Crimson Worlds Adventures

  Red Team Alpha

  Blood on the Stars Series

  Duel in the Dark (Blood on the Stars I)

  Call to Arms (Blood on the Stars II) – January 2017

  The Far Stars Series

  Shadow of Empire (Fars Stars I)

  Enemy in the Dark (Far Stars II)

  Funeral Games (Far Stars III)

  Far Stars Legends Series

  (Available on Kindle Unlimited)

  Blackhawk (Far Stars Legends I)

  The Wolf’s Claw (Far Stars Legends II) – February 2017

  Also By Jay Allan

  Gehenna Dawn (Portal Worlds I)

  The Ten Thousand (Portal Wars II)

  Homefront (Portal Wars III)

  The Dragon’s Banner (Pendragon Chronicles I)

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  at www.crimsonworlds.com

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  Author’s Note

  For readers of the previous books of the Crimson Worlds series, I wanted to offer a bit of guidance on placing Red Team Alpha in the overall timeline. The setting is in the years preceding the outbreak of the Third Frontier War, which places this book 3-4 years before the beginning of Marines. It is therefore, somewhat of a prequel, though it is more of a standalone adventure set in the universe (and using some of the same characters).

  Prologue

  Roderick Vance stared at the intelligence report. He was sitting in the study—his father’s study—reviewing the pile of work that had fallen on him. The room was dark, lit only by the flickering light of his workstation’s screen and the dying embers of the untended fire in the hearth behind him.

  It had been barely a month since he’d gotten the call in the middle of the night telling him his parents where dead…just over thirty Martian days since he’d inherited the responsibility for one of Mars’ largest conglomerates, a sprawling enterprise involved in trading, manufacturing, and finance. One that employed thousands and accounted for just over two percent of the Confederation’s GDP. It was overwhelming, but right now it was the least of his concerns.

  His father had bequeathed another job to his only son, a position far less public than the other, one that had been held by a Vance since the early days of the Martian Confederation. Roderick’s father had spoken to him only a few times about his role as the director of Martian Intelligence, and he’d done almost nothing to prepare the younger Vance for a job he hadn’t been expected his son to fill for several decades.

  The Council had almost selected another director, fearful that Vance was too young, too unprepared. But Roderick felt the call of family obligation, and he resolved to follow in his father’s footsteps. He began his new career by teaching himself a central tenet of his new craft…lying. He stood before the Council, assuring them with unchallenged sincerity that his father had schooled him in espionage since he’d been a child. It was a wild bluff, and he held his ground, hiding his nerves, completely unprepared to answer any incisive questions. But Martian society was based heavily on tradition, and a Vance had always run Martian Intelligence. Roderick’s confidence, the stone cold nature of his performance, had silenced his doubters. There had been no questions, none at all. He’d been confirmed in his new role almost at once, the necessary security clearances approved moments before he was sworn into the job.

  Now he faced his first great challenge. The report displayed on his glowing tablet was disturbing to say the least, even stunning…but it was not conclusive. It would be a few days before he had more information…a period he was sure would seem like the longest of his life. If the find was what it appeared to be, it was impossible to overstate its importance…to the Martian Intelligence, to the Confederation, even to history itself. Things would never be the same again.

  If he did get the confirmation, he knew he had to move quickly…and quietly too. There was no time to spare. It appeared that the precious information had already leaked. One of his agents was on the detention level even now, suspected of passing the news to Alliance Intelligence. Vance wasn’t sure, but he knew finding out would be another baptism of his new job. He’d trembled slightly as he signed the order authorizing level one enhanced interrogation on the suspect, but he knew there was no choice. He simply had to know for certain if the news had been divulged. And, if he’d ordered the torture of an innocent man, of a loyal agent, the part of him that was already older in spirit than his years realized that, too, was part of the job, as was living with the guilt from his actions.

  He put such thoughts out of his mind. He had to decide what to do, how to inspect the mysterious site, and how to get there first. His first urge was to mobilize the fleet, to send every bit of force he could scrape up. But he k
new that wasn’t possible. A massive operation would destroy whatever secrecy remained. No, he couldn’t mount a large expedition. A small group could move faster, maintain tighter secrecy. He wasn’t comfortable yet with all the various specialized assets and resources available to the head of Mars intelligence, but he knew of one, small but also the very best. A secret force, operating under the direct command of the intelligence chief. A unit with an unbroken record of success Twenty men and women—warriors, veterans, killers.

  Red Team Alpha.

  Chapter One

  From the Personal Journal of Alex Vandenberg

  The Scotch had a bite to it as it slid down my throat. I’m not much of a drinker, usually only a glass of wine with dinner, if that, and almost never hard liquor. But a promise is a promise, even when decades have passed…and one made to brothers standing with you in hell is sacrosanct. We swore to each other that night, and I have not missed a single year since then. Not one.

  I am wearing my uniform, as I have every year…even in the near decade since I retired from active duty. The style is much the same as the one I wore on that night so long ago. The jacket just a bit longer, with a wide gray stripe down each side the earlier design lacked. The brightly gleaming, brand new lieutenant’s bars of that evening have been replaced by two platinum stars, older and, I ashamed to say, far less polished than that young officer’s insignia. I was all excitement and dash back then, obsessed with the drive to gain acceptance, to go into battle against the enemy. Any enemy. To prove myself. To show I was as good as those who came before me.

  Now I am old, and I have seen more death than any man should witness, fought deadly struggles against enough enemies to last a lifetime and more. Now I seek only quiet. Peace. But I still remember that mission, every agonizing moment of it, my first and only one with Red Team Alpha.

  This is the fiftieth toast I have drunk, the fifty-first counting the one I made will all my comrades that night. I had to crack open another new bottle to make it, and I am fortunate indeed to have it. I long ago ran out of what we had set aside, and now it is getting difficult—no, damned near impossible—to find more. I wouldn’t even have this one if Roderick Vance hadn’t given it to me. Since the Fall, old liquors, like most of the luxuries we once took for granted, are extremely rare, and almost beyond price. Certainly beyond the means of a retired general’s pension.

  I don’t know how Roderick knew…or how long he has been aware of my ritual. It was a secret oath, only between the members of the unit, and I certainly never told anyone else…not friends, not my wife, nor my children. But I long ago realized it was pointless trying to understand how the head of Martian Intelligence—and now the effective ruler of the Confederation—knew the things he did. Roderick Vance is the most gifted spy I’ve ever known…save perhaps for one, whose name I have tried with all my ability—and little success—to forget.

  I held the cut crystal glass up to the light, admiring the amber liquid for a few seconds, remembering the first toast, the one we all drank together. We were all still alive then, comrades in arms, though my entry into the Team hadn’t been without its bumpy moments. I’d come to those brave men and women as an unblooded rookie, and to them I seemed a privileged elite, excused from the years of combat and suffering they had endured to gain their places. I can’t blame them, not really. I doubt I, a veteran now for many decades, would feel any differently in their position. I had hoped to gain their acceptance without divulging the full truth of who I was, but in the end I could only find my place among them by sharing my legacy.

  I drank again, deeply. I hated it, the Scotch, not the toast. But I forced it down. I didn’t like it any better fifty years ago, but I’d had enough trouble fitting in, and once my comrades had finally begun to accept me, I wasn’t about to do anything to lose what I had gained. I would have tossed back a glass of battery acid if that’s what they’d been drinking, but there was no way I was going to stand out as different, as I had so starkly in the weeks leading up to that moment.

  We knew the mission would be a dangerous one, even more so than the usual disasters the Team was called upon to handle. The mood was somber that night, hours before we were scheduled to land, and we all agreed to the pact, then and there. Once a year, the survivors would gather together and drink a toast, one to those who didn’t make it back…and to comrades the Team had lost on other missions too. And that oath has been kept, for half a century and through three cataclysmic wars the eighteen men and two women gathered in that room so many years before couldn’t have imagined. It has been kept despite combat, disasters, and mass death, through the struggle against the First Imperium and the final wars leading to the Fall.

  Even if it is now kept only by one man, a tired old veteran, worn out by a lifetime of war and ready to join his comrades.

  Martian Intelligence HQ

  50 Years Earlier

  “The Team isn’t going to like this, sir. They’re all veterans. There’s never been a rookie assigned to our ranks. Never. And so soon after we lost Colonel Warren…” Colonel John Reginald stood at attention, despite the fact that he’d been told to relax and take a seat. His tone had been firm, unwavering…until he’d mentioned Colonel Warren. Then his voice cracked a bit. The Team’s longtime commander had been killed on the last mission, and the loss had hit them all, and none harder than Reginald, who had been forced to step into his friend and commander’s shoes. “How can we give the colonel’s roster spot to a rookie, sir? That’s what it is, after all, isn’t it? His spot?” There was a pleading quality to his words now.

  “I understand your concerns, Colonel…and I know you’re still getting used to command, that the men and women are still mourning Colonel Warren. That is only fitting and proper. But I assure you, Lieutenant Vandenberg is an extremely capable soldier, and a very appropriate replacement for the colonel. He just graduated from the Officer’s Academy with the highest scores, not just in his class, but in Confederation history. He is intelligent, enormously fit…in every way, one of the very best we have ever had.” Roderick Vance sat behind a massive wooden desk, his posture perfect, his voice firm. There was only the slightest hint, easily overlooked, that he was uncomfortable, holding something back.

  “I have no doubt about his abilities, sir…and I’m sure he will have a long and distinguished career. But he’s not there yet. He has no combat experience. There has never been a member of Red Team Alpha who was not a combat veteran. You know that.” Reginald paused uncomfortably. “That was your father’s rule, sir.”

  “Yes, John…it was his rule.” Vance paused, his shield of cold logic failing him for just a few seconds. The Team wasn’t alone in suffering a recent tragic loss. Vance’s parents had both been killed only weeks before, when their landing craft lost power and crashed in the open Martian desert. It was still a mystery, one he suspected someone had tried very hard to make look like an accident. Vance didn’t believe the stories about instrument failure, not for an instant. There was someone out there to blame for his parents’ murders, and one day he would find out who.

  That will be a bloody day…

  The new head of Martian Intelligence had inherited his post—and control of the massive Vance business interests—suddenly, decades before he’d expected the burden to fall on him.

  “His rule,” Vance repeated. “If my father had the chance now to give me one piece of advice, I know it would be to use my own judgment, not try to figure out what I think he would have done. And this is my decision to make.” He paused. “Though I suspect my father would have agreed in this case. He was a man who knew when to break a rule.”

  Reginald shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “What if he panics the first time we get into a nasty fight? It’s not like a battle, with thousands of other troops in the line. If one of us bolts, or even hesitates at the wrong time, we could all get scragged. There’s a reason combat experience is a requirement for acceptance into the Team. No matter how good a soldier looks on paper, you
never really know until you see how he handles himself under fire.”

  Vance held back a sigh. He understood Reginald’s concerns, even sympathized with them. But he’d made up his mind. “Again, Colonel, I understand everything you are saying. Indeed, I would agree with you in most circumstances. But this is an exception. We have never had a fresh graduate with Lieutenant Vandenberg’s capability.” Now Vance paused and looked thoughtfully at his desk, as if trying to decide what he wanted to say, how much to divulge. “And I have other reasons, Colonel. You will just have to trust me…and leave it at that.”

  Reginald stood still for a moment, clearly struggling to hide his surprise. Vance knew he’d made an impression on the colonel, the same one he did on everyone, at least all save those very few close to him. The new head of Martian Intelligence was considered a bit of a cold fish, even a bit awkward, and he knew those around him were watching, waiting to see how well he would fill his father’s massive shoes.

  Vance watched as Reginald nodded grudgingly. Vance knew the colonel still disagreed, but he was also sure the officer realized there was nothing more he could do. He suspected Reginald had been prepared to argue facts, to make a case for enforcing the experience requirement for admission to the Team. But the spymaster’s last statement had made the facts irrelevant. He’d asked Reginald to trust him…and there was no way for the veteran soldier to say no. Not without openly challenging the new intelligence chief.

  “Yes, sir,” he said, clearly hiding as much of his doubt as he could manage before adding, “But I can’t control the Team’s reaction.” He paused, and a frown pushed its way through his discipline and slipped onto his face. “I’ll be surprised if they don’t give him a hard time. A very hard time.”

  Vance nodded. “You’re probably right, Colonel. They will be rough on him. But Alex is tough. He says he can handle it, and I believe him. And he’s on the Team.” The last sentence was spoken with a cold firmness that left no doubt the conversation was over. Whether Reginald liked it or not, the valedictorian of the Academy was now a member of Red Team Alpha…in all his unblooded glory.