The Prisoner of Eldaron: Crimson Worlds Successors II Page 5

  Cain snapped back to his feet, his own stick out in front of him, waiting for an opening. He’d been holding back in the fight, as he had been since he’d begun training his newest student. But his protégé was getting better, and each time Cain had been obliged to expend a bit more effort to fend off the increasingly well-aimed attacks.

  Axe was older than Cain, by more than twenty years, and he hadn’t had the course of rejuv treatments the leader of the Black Eagles had enjoyed. But he acquitted himself well, and Cain was proud of his trainee. Axe didn’t look much like the average new recruit that made it to the Nest, but Darius saw through age and infirmity to an inner quality, one he felt was strong and clear.

  Despite his years and the lack of a chemical age-fighting regimen, Axe looked great. The former gang leader turned village elder had been a wreck when Roderick Vance’s spy had taken him to Mars from the post-Fall ruins of Earth. Axe was in his mid-fifties, and he’d been suffering from several aggressive cancers, the result of severe radiation exposure, both during the Fall and in the years that followed. He was malnourished, plagued by a dozen nutritional deficiencies and hobbled by a leg that had been twice broken and poorly set both times. He’d had less than a year to live if he’d remained on Earth, and probably substantially less.

  The Martian doctors had treated the cancers, saving Axe’s life and restoring him to moderately good health. But when he’d gotten to the Nest, the Black Eagles’ medical staff practically rebuilt him. He was too old to start rejuv therapies, but they’d rebroken and fused his leg and pumped him full of vitamins, micro-nutrients, and supplements. They’d induced selective internal regeneration to restore his internal organs to perfect condition. When he walked out of the infirmary, he felt twenty years younger. But that had just been the start.

  The Eagles had outstanding doctors by any standard, but their training staff was without equal. They put Axe through an intense regimen, six hours a day of running, lifting, and combat simulations. Within two months he was 85 kilos of pure muscle. He’d pushed himself brutally, tirelessly taking advantage of any training the Eagles offered.

  Cain understood his new friend’s determination. He’d been the founder and leader of a settlement called Jericho, one of the largest villages on post-Fall Earth, and he’d been left for dead by the slavers who had destroyed the town and taken his people off-planet, destined for a life of bondage. Including Ellie, his wife.

  Left behind, wounded and sick, he’d had no prospect to save any of them, but then fate intervened, first in the form of a Martian agent sent to investigate the destruction of Jericho and later by an unlikely confederation of powers, including the Black Eagles. Cain’s mercenaries had attacked and destroyed the slavers’ base on the planetoid of Eris, but they’d gotten there too late to save Ellie and the others. Axe’s beloved wife and the rest of his people were out there somewhere, probably living and working under appalling conditions. And despite the apparent hopelessness of ever finding them somewhere in the vastness of man’s dominion in space, he was determined to try.

  Thanks to Darius Cain’s sponsorship, he was stronger than he had been in decades…and he had the resources to mount a credible search. Darius knew Axe realized he was looking for a needle in a haystack, but he was just as sure his guest didn’t care. The sequence of events that had taken him from a sick old man prowling around the outskirts of Jericho to a strong and capable warrior had been equally unlikely, surely. Darius didn’t expect Axe would give up easily. Or at all.

  Hope doesn’t die…not until you surrender. And that will never happen. Not while there is breath in his lungs.

  Suddenly, Darius saw his chance, and he lunged, smacking his pugil stick against Axe’s face. The Earther went down hard.

  “You’ve got to pay attention, Axe,” Darius said, keeping most of the scolding tone from his voice. “I know you’ve got a lot to think about, but against an enemy less friendly than me, one of those zone outs of yours will cost you your life.” He reached down, offering his opponent an assist. “And if you get yourself killed, you’ve got no chance to find any of them. Take care of yourself first and foremost. For them as much as you. Remember that.”

  Axe grabbed onto Cain’s hand and hopped up to his feet. “I know you’re right, Darius. It’s just hard. I saved her life just before the Fall, and we’ve been together ever since.” A sad look came over his face. “Were together.”

  Cain nodded. “I understand what you are feeling.” He paused. “No, perhaps I don’t, at least not completely. But if you will take a bit of advice, I would give you some.”

  “Of course, Darius.”

  “You need to think clearly. I know you’re planning to go running off in search of Ellie…and the rest of your people. But I think that is poor thinking…cloudy, driven by emotion and not rationality. Yes, you want to find them, but I think you should wait.” Cain paused, seeing the uncertainty in Axe’s eyes. “Listen to me…I know it feels unnatural to delay. Every emotion inside you is screaming to go now, berating you for not going yesterday. But feelings do not design sound tactics, and you have to ask this question…do you just want to make yourself feel better by running off—and probably getting killed—just to act like you are doing something? Or do you want the best chance of finding and rescuing them?”

  Axe took a deep breath and hesitated, wiping the sweat from his forehead. “To find them, of course,” he finally said.

  “Are you sure? Because if that’s the case, you need to use your head and not your heart. If you leave now, alone, you know you’re not going to find them. And even if you do, you don’t have the power to rescue them. But there is something far vaster going on out there, some enemy that has not yet revealed itself. We fight the same war, my friend, and patience will serve your goal better than zealotry. If you rush forward, if you get yourself killed needlessly, the search is over. Your friends—Ellie—they will die in some hellhole, an iridium mine on a frigid asteroid or working sixteen hour days in a factory on a remote moon.”

  Cain could see his words cut at Axe, but he knew his friend needed to hear the truth, or at least some of it. Darius was a realist, and he realized Axe’s chances of finding his wife and friends were almost non-existent, no matter what he did. But he was a leader of soldiers too, and he knew sometimes illusion could be important, that a lie told to oneself could bolster morale…and in turn contribute to ultimate victory. Some losses were best absorbed gradually, and he knew Axe’s self-delusion would give him time to adjust, to become accustomed to the losses he had suffered. Then, after time had passed, after he had exerted all his efforts in the search, perhaps he would be able to make peace with the loss of his people.

  Besides, war was coming. Darius didn’t doubt that for an instant. Every military instinct he had was twitching, warning him that the fight on Eris was just the beginning of what was to come. He was a veteran, and his Black Eagles were the best soldiers in Occupied Space, but they had never faced a struggle like the one he could feel gathering. The Eagles had fought contained conflicts, disputes between worlds, and they were almost always far superior to their adversaries. But his gut was telling him this new war would be different—widespread, cataclysmic, a true fight for survival. The kind of war his father had fought…and his mother.

  He didn’t have much information about this new enemy, but he was sure they were out there somewhere. And the fact that they almost certainly knew more about him—and the Eagles and Roderick Vance and the rest of the forces that would stand against them—was deeply troubling. Darius knew it was a massive strategic advantage, one he intended to do something about. He knew he had to learn more, and he had already dispatched some of his most trusted people to track down the few vague leads he had. He was asking a lot of them, to turn the scraps he’d given them into solid information, but they were Black Eagles…which meant he never expected anything less than excellence.

  He intended to try to keep Axe at the Nest, at least until his agents returned with what
ever intelligence they could collect. Whatever meager possibility there was to rescue Ellie and the rest of Axe’s people, it would be much stronger when they knew more about the enemy. And if Axe was going to risk his life chasing after a phantom, Darius was determined to give him at least some chance of success.

  Axe had been standing silently, clearly considering Darius’ words. Cain smiled and reached out, slapping his friend lightly on the shoulder. “Come on, let’s grab a shower and get something to eat. We’ll talk more over dinner.”

  * * * * *

  “Mmmmm.” Darius was lying face down on the bed, his eyes closed. Ana was hovering over him, her hands working their way across his back…creating something he was sure had to be magic. Darius Cain had always been tightly wound, even as a child, and the tragic cost of the Second Incursion had only made things worse. He’d been overcome with grief when word arrived that his father had died on his way back from the victorious war against the First Imperium, and he’d withdrawn even more completely from normal relationships with the people around him. He’d grown more and more insular, standing up to the authorities on Atlantia, stubbornly refusing to do as he was told until he’d been compelled to leave his home world one step ahead of the police.

  His military career had been about focus and the drive for excellence. Wounded in battle several times, he’d felt pain, the loss of friends, the joy of victory. He lived like a king, the master of an invincible army, showered with riches by those who would enjoy its favor. He’d had mistresses from a dozen worlds, some of the most beautiful and exotic women in Occupied Space. But he couldn’t recall ever feeling true relaxation, not like this at least. Ana Bazarov had magic fingers. It was the only explanation.

  “You really need to get more rest, maybe get away for a while. I’d swear this back of yours is so knotted up it’s harder than your armor.” Ana had been his guest, a refugee he’d plucked from the fighting on Karelia two years earlier…just as a pack of Raschiddan soldiers had been ready to assault her. She’d caught his eye right away, and for reasons he still didn’t understand, the thought of her being hurt enraged him, so much so he’d had the offending troops summarily executed. Then he’d brought her with him, feeling guilty about not giving her a choice, but absolutely refusing to leave her behind on a Karelia now under the control of the Raschiddan government.

  “There’s a lot going on right now. I’m a little tense.” He twisted his head as he spoke, and his neck cracked loudly.

  “A little?” she asked, trying and failing to suppress a chuckle as she did. “You think?” She managed to hold back some of the laugh, but none of the sarcasm.

  He pushed her playfully to the side and rolled over, his eyes finding hers. “My, aren’t we the sarcastic one today? Is that where we’ve ended up?” He leaned in and kissed her, putting a hand on her cheek as he did. Things were indeed tense, and he’d been under a lot of stress, even by the standards of his life as a mercenary…and as one of the most feared men in Occupied Space. Cain didn’t care much what people thought of him, beyond his soldiers and his few true friends. Still, he had to admit Ana had upset that near-invulnerability. He was still trying to convince himself she was just another mistress, a pleasant diversion he would tire of eventually, but his mind was too logical to accept what it could tell was nonsense.

  But it wasn’t the recent developments in his love life that had him so stressed. Darius Cain hated unanswered questions, despised the notion that he had an enemy he didn’t understand. It was anathema to how he conducted his affairs. He always had the best intelligence, the most detailed and carefully-crafted plans. Now he was feeling around in the dark, ceding the initiative, waiting to see what his adversaries would do, where they would strike. It was driving him mad, pushing him to take action, any action, just to feel like he was doing something. His logic had held him back so far, and his discipline. But he couldn’t wait forever, and if he didn’t get some decent intel soon, he knew he was going to have to start shooting blindly. And that sequence of thoughts was taking him around in a circle, one that cranked up the tension with every frustrating lap.

  Ana’s touch was the one thing that gave him relief, and his time with her was the only bit of true relaxation he got. He’d wondered more than once if he would have been able to maintain his judgment without the brief periods of calm she gave him.

  Would you have mobilized the Eagles and headed off half-cocked, following an emotional need to strike anywhere rather than to stay here idle? He didn’t know the answer.

  She had been with him almost two years now. She’d hated him at first, an understandable reaction since the Eagles had just invaded her world, a lightning assault that had crushed the native army and ended thirty years of Karelian independence in less than one of the planet’s twenty-two hour days. But he’d surprised her, first by finding her thirteen year old sister, who’d been lost and wandering through the burning city, and then by respecting her wishes…in everything except his refusal to leave her and her sister behind on Karelia, alone and at the mercy of the new Raschiddan overlords. He hadn’t forced himself on her nor required her to do anything…nothing except accompanying him and his soldiers when they departed. She’d been treated like an honored guest, and it had only been months later the two had shared anything more than a brief conversation.

  Things had gone well beyond that now. Darius had always tried to avoid emotional attachments, feeling they tended to overrule logic—and he’d always considered rationality to be his master. He was different than most of the people he’d met, and he prided himself on being free of the need most had to believe blindly in people and causes. That was their weakness, emotional need overruling realism, and it had no place in his life.

  He’d always felt that relationships caused needless pain too…the heartache of his father’s death, for example. Still, he’d found it wasn’t always possible to avoid them. He was close friends with Erik Teller, his second-in-command and a companion since childhood, and he knew the pain he would experience if his exec ever fell in one of the Eagles’ battles. And he loved his mother deeply, though he rarely saw her. It stirred up too many confusing emotions…guilt, regret, the pain of his father’s loss. He knew she disapproved of him, of the choices he’d made—it was clear to him, though she generally held her tongue about it. Of course, staying away just created more guilt, making the whole swirling brew that much more complicated…and reinforcing his view that emotions were best strictly controlled.

  He told himself he avoided his mother to spare her the difficulties a close relationship would cause, but he knew that explanation was incomplete—and that it let him off the hook far more easily than he deserved. Still, though he made no apologies for his life’s choices, he knew many people considered him little more than a butcher, a brutal killer. The less he allowed his mother into his life, the more he insulated her from the hatred people felt toward him.

  Then there was his brother…he wasn’t sure what he thought of Elias. They’d gotten along well enough as children, but they’d dealt with their father’s disappearance in wildly different ways, and that had driven a wedge between them. Darius would have described his feelings for Elias as casual hatred, and he hadn’t seen his twin for years before they’d been thrown together by Roderick Vance’s summons. Now, he found his feelings to be far more muddled than he’d thought before. He still had a healthy measure of anger and disdain for the man who shared his DNA, but he was more confused now. And that interfered with clear thought, crisp decision-making. It reinforced his desire to avoid emotional entanglements even as it caused him more.

  Now he had yet another confusing set of impulses to deal with, the strange cocktail of irrationality surrounding his feelings for Ana. He’d always kept his sexual relationships tight, focused. He’d treated his mistresses kindly and with great generosity, but he’d always been clear about the ground rules. There had been emotion involved, certainly. He wasn’t a cyborg. But there was no place in his life for the distrac
ting foolishness that so often accompanied dating rituals between men and women. He had affection for the women he bedded, but he’d never let one of them really get through his emotional defenses. At least until Ana Bazarov found her way into his life.

  His most recent group of mistresses still resided in the Nest, in conditions of considerable comfort and luxury, but he hadn’t seen any of them in months. They didn’t realize they’d all been discarded, cast aside in favor of another, though he imagined they wondered what had changed. Indeed, Darius didn’t understand it yet either. He and Ana had not discussed their relationship. She had not asked him where she stood in his life, if she was just another of his women or something more. She hadn’t even asked for any assurances the way the others had, no guarantees she wouldn’t be cast aside with nothing if he tired of her. But he’d moved her into his own quarters, a thing he’d never done before. And he spent his nights with her, all of them. He’d never done that before either.

  He leaned back on the bed, reaching behind his head and propping up a stack of pillows as he did. He sighed softly and looked around the room. His quarters were Spartan but comfortable, far more mundane than one would have expected for a man of his wealth and power. But he was a soldier first and foremost, and he was uncomfortable with excess frill. His mistresses all had far plusher suites. Indeed, the guest quarters Ana had occupied before moving into his were considerably more luxurious. But she’d never once said anything about the sparse and simple rooms. He found it refreshing.

  “Have you heard back from any of the scouts?” Ana had been sleeping with Darius a long time before she’d first asked any questions about Black Eagle business, and she still sounded uncomfortable when she did.

  “No, nothing yet. I had so little to give them, I wouldn’t be surprised if they all came back empty handed.” He sighed again. “I don’t know what we’re facing, Ana. I’ve never been in this position before.”