MERCS: Crimson Worlds Successors by Jay Allan Read Free Book Online Page A

“Sergeant,” he yelled.  “And I have something else for you as well,” he said, looking back at her.  He watched her reaction, confusion at first then shock.
    “Tatyana,” she squealed.  She threw her arms out, wincing at the pain as she did.
    “Ana!”  A young girl ran toward her.  She had the same flaming red hair, but she was no older than 13 or 14.  She ran to the bed and wrapped her arms around her sister.
    Cain turned and walked away, allowing himself another uncharacteristic smile as he listened to the joyful reunion behind him.
     
     
    *        *        *        *        *
     
     
    “Black Eagles don’t just disappear,” Cain roared.  “They don’t run, they don’t desert, they don’t hide.”  He stood at the head of the folding table, staring out at the assembled officers.  “I want to know what happened to those men, and I don’t care if you have to take Karelia apart down to the mantle to find out.”
    Teller sat to Cain’s right, silently listening to his friend’s tirade.  Most people in Occupied Space had heard of Darius Cain and the Black Eagles.  The vast majority of them knew him as a dark figure, a butcher—a conqueror whose trade was human suffering.  But Teller knew this was the real Darius, his concern first and foremost for his soldiers.  He knew Cain didn’t care what people thought of him, but it upset him to see his oldest friend so mischaracterized.  Cain had spent years training his troops, honing them into a scalpel rather than a sledgehammer.  The Eagles ended confrontations quickly, with far less death and destruction that the other companies, or worse, the amateur armies of the colony worlds.
    “General, we have searched the area twice.  We found traces—a few fired rounds, some scorched areas on the ground, but someone did a pretty fair job of cleaning up after whatever happened there.”  Colonel Evander Falstaff was the senior regimental commander, and he’d personally directed his people in scouring the apparent battle area.  “We also found some scraps of armor, mostly bits and pieces.  Some of it ours…”  He stared right at Cain.  “…and some of a different design.”  He paused.  “I’d bet the pay from our last ten jobs there was a nasty fight there, and whoever hit our troops…they were also powered infantry.”
    The room was silent.  The implications were sobering.  Powered armor had become rare in Occupied Space since the Fall.  Few planets had the economic might to fund such expensive military units.  It was a major cause behind the growth of the mercenary companies, but even among those professional forces, only a few, the Great Companies, could field more than a handful of powered troops.
    Teller looked up at Cain.  The commander of the Black Eagles was deep in thought, no doubt reaching the same conclusion as his second-in-command.  This was no rogue group of Karelians surprising one of their platoons.  Someone was fucking with the Black Eagles.  One of the other big companies—or another power, one that possessed secret military tech.  Either way it was trouble.
    “I want to know who was behind this.  I want every scrap of that armor inspected.  I want every scorched patch of grass analyzed.  I want to know what kind of explosives these people use, the alloys in their armor, the types of guns that fire their ammunition.  And I want it now!”
    “Yes, General.”  Falstaff’s voice was hesitant, and he looked at Cain nervously.
    “What is it, Colonel?”  Cain’s eyes drilled into the regimental commander’s.  “Speak!”
    “Sir, we are not properly equipped to analyze these materials here.  We did not come prepared for scientific study.”  He paused.  “I know you don’t want to give up on those Eagles, sir, but I don’t see how they could still be alive.  We’ve searched everywhere.  Whatever was out there is gone.”  He hesitated again.  “But if we get