There was an honor guard, of sorts, though it had been cobbled together from base security instead of the Marines who normally would have filled the role. Half of Archellia’s Marines were on the way to Santis, and the other half were on full alert, manning their defensive positions.
He thought of his own Marines, at least the few that remained. He’d read the reports of their final battle, of another victory that seemed bitter because of its cost. His ground forces had lost no less than seventy percent of their number, and the Marines originally posted to the planet had four survivors out of forty. But, miraculously, they had defeated the enemy, in a fight that had gone on to the death.
He had hated to leave his battered troops behind, but there had been no choice. He couldn’t leave the planet unguarded, and even thirty-seven exhausted Marines could put up a fight if necessary…as the original garrison had proven. The reinforcements bound for Santis would garrison the tritium facilities and retake the battered space station, and the ships carrying them to the Rim would return with Dauntless’s survivors. That esteemed group included four hardy souls from the original force, including Sergeant Clete Hargraves and the officer that worthy non-com had saved beyond all hope, Lieutenant Luke Plunkett. Barron had been sorry there hadn’t been time for him to meet those Marines, and he hoped he’d have the chance one day.
He was confident the Alliance threat had evaporated, that Commander Rigellus’s words had been truthful and accurate. But he couldn’t argue against taking precautions. Any Alliance invasion would depend on taking and holding Santis, and after what the outnumbered Marines had accomplished there, he had little doubt the five hundred now en route could hold the place indefinitely against any attack the Alliance mounted over such a distance.
His eyes panned around the cavernous room. Many of the crew were there, silently paying their respects to fallen comrades. But there were no crowds of families, no groups of mourning friends. None of his crew had been from Archellia, save one. And in all the great vastness of the bay, there was only one person not part of Dauntless’s crew and not on duty. No, two people.
Barron looked across the bay at Sam Carson’s widow. Lise Varov was a naval officer too, and she was clad in her dress blues, standing silent, motionless, an infant cradled in her arms. She stood almost at attention, clearly struggling to keep herself together. Barron knew he would only shatter her tenuous control if he went over and spoke with her, but he also knew he had no choice. He owed it to Sam.
He walked across the room, conscious of the sound his boots made on the metal floor. Varov saw him coming about halfway there, and she turned to face him.
“Lieutenant Varov…I just wanted to express my deepest regrets for your loss.” Barron could see the tears welling up in her eyes, her efforts to hold them back.
“Thank you, Captain, but please, call me Lise.” Her voice was soft, tentative. “You’re very kind.”
“Sam was an extraordinary officer, Lise. You should know he was truly a hero. He died saving his comrades—everyone on Dauntless. Our survival likely averted a war with the Alliance, which means he died to protect Archellia as well. To protect you, and his son.”
Varov gasped a breath, losing her struggle to hold back the tears. “He will never see his son, Captain. And my child will never know his father.”
Barron was fishing for words, knowing nothing he said would be adequate. “I can’t imagine your pain, Lise. And please call me Tyler…none of this captain foolishness.” He hesitated, again unsure what else to say. “I considered Sam my friend, Lise, as well as one of my crew. Whatever you need…if there is ever anything I can do for you, now or ten years from now, all you have to do is ask.”
She looked back at Barron, tears streaming down her cheeks now. “Thank you, Ca…Tyler. You are a good man. I can see why Sam felt he needed to go with you.”
Barron felt her words like daggers. He knew she meant them as a compliment, but they only reminded him that he had led his people to Santis. They had followed him there, and nearly a quarter of them had come back in sleek, metallic coffins. Including Sam Carson.
Words failed him, and he stood silently for a moment, finally saying simply, “Remember, if there’s ever anything you need…”
Lise nodded and swiped at the tears on her cheeks. “Thank you, Tyler.”
Barron returned the nod…and he stood quietly for a moment. Then he turned and walked slowly toward the exit. He’d never been the kind of officer to crave battle, to seek glory. But he felt empty now, desolate.
Can this be what you felt, grandfather? Amid the parades, the celebrations, the endless honors, were you as hollowed out inside as I am now?
He wanted to flee, to resign his commission and retire to his family estates…anyplace where no more men and women would die because they followed his orders. But he knew he couldn’t, and now another person was there in this thoughts, one he hardly knew but also one he was realizing had a great impact on him.
There would be no resignation, no retreat to the family manor. Barron was a creature of duty, as fixed on his path as Katrine Rigellus had been. She’d been a noble warrior trapped in bad cause, an example of the cost such devotion extracted…and he knew in her words he had seen his own future.
Epilogue
Tyler Barron sat at the small desk in his quarters. It was quiet, peaceful—at least when the repair crews weren’t in some nearby compartment, repairing one bit of battle damage after another.
His workstation’s screen displayed repair reports, requisitions, supply manifests…all the things that made command of a battleship seem like drudgery. But his eyes had glazed over, drifted to the tablet in his hands. The small display held text, the final chapter of the history volume Dauntless’s captain had been carrying around for over a year now. He’d finally gotten through it, almost, and he was determined that nothing would stop him from finishing. Not this close to the end.
He was glad, at least, to be back onboard Dauntless. His battleship had been a wreck when he’d gotten her back to Archellia base, it’s corridors and compartments shattered wastelands, as often as not stained red with the blood of those who had died at their stations. Barron had been relieved at first to get off Dauntless, to flee from the haunting of those whom he had led to death. But four months in the Starfire Suite had been more than he could take. The Archellians had fawned over his as the descendant of the great Rance Barron, but now he was the man who had saved them from Alliance invasion. At least that’s the way they’d insisted on seeing it. The steady stream of dinners and other festivities grew to a veritable avalanche, one which had begun to threaten his sanity. It had been nothing but a relief when Fritzie had told him Dauntless’s officers’ and crews’ quarters were again habitable.
Barron had executed a hasty retreat, thanking the local authorities for the luxurious accommodations and assuring them he would have stayed longer had the vital repairs to his ship not called. In truth, Barron was just about useless amid the crowd of engineers and technicians gradually rebuilding Dauntless. But it was a good excuse, and he jumped on it.
He glanced down at the tablet, leaning back in his chair, his eyes finding the last spot he’d read. He’d gotten through perhaps fifty words when the com unit buzzed.
“Yes?” He tried, with limited success, to keep the annoyance from his voice.
“Captain, it’s Atara.”
He knew immediately something was wrong. Atara Travis was the steadiest officer he’d ever known, as cool as a block of ice, even under fire. But he could hear the tension in her voice.
“What is it, Atara?” But he knew already.
“The base just received a Priority One flash com, sir.” She paused, and he could hear her swallowing hard. “The war…it’s begun. Union forces have invaded Confederation space all along the border.”
Barron put the tablet down on the desk, carelessly. It slid off a stack of reports and fell to the floor, shattering.
“Get the word to the crew, A
tara. All leaves are canceled. And find Fritzie. I think she’s somewhere on alpha bay. The two of you get up here. We just ran out of time. We’ve got to figure out how quickly we can get Dauntless underway, repairs finished or not.
“Yes, sir. I agree.” There was a short pause. Then: “Travis out.”
Barron took a deep breath and looked down at the floor, at the shards of glass that had been his tablet.
I’m never going to finish that book…
Call to Arms
Blood on the Stars Book II
January 27, 2017
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The Crimson Worlds Series
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Dec 3, 2016
Blood on the Stars Series
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Table of Contents
The Crimson Worlds Series
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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
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Chapter Forty
Chapter Forty-One
Epilogue