Schism of Blood and Stone (The Starfield Theory Book 1) (39 page)

Claire

The Barn, Goteborg, Magdeborg Commonwealth

______________

Claire sighed wearily as the last of the casualties was finally taken back to the surgeon's table. Running triage in a destrier hangar, commonly referred to as “the barn,” had finally begun to take its toll. She was tired, partially from the work involved, but also emotionally drained. Too often she and the others here had been required to mark a young man or woman as beyond help and usher them to a corner of the hangar for morphine and a quiet place to die.

I'm surprised I made it this far. After seeing the first few come in, torn up, broken, I didn't think I could handle it. We processed dozens, hundreds of soldiers today. Am I numb to it now?
She thought, then cringed.
I don't want to be numb to human suffering. It's so cold.

She glanced over to the entrance of the barn where the dead had been arranged. Many of them still had only a blanket to cover them; the staff here had run out of body bags. Every few minutes a truck would come to collect the dead and take them away to a morgue. Claire wondered if there would be time to bury them all. From what she heard from the incoming soldiers, the battle was not faring well. The Dominion forces still had the numerical and tactical edge on the defenders. House Evers was fighting bravely, but losing. She could see it in the eyes of the survivors. Defeat was coming. And it'd only been the first day.

She stood up from her chair and walked into the hallway, just to get away from the blood and death that hung in the air. She could remember something similar on the
MacCleod,
but this was on an entirely different scale. She'd dissected plenty of creatures during her studies and patched up the injured Theorists on their excavations. Each of them had its unique smell, its own set of guts. But this was very different. These were not lab rats, they were living human beings being cut up and broken on the battlefields of a giant's war.

Most of them were not career soldiers, just militia. They were just young men and women summoned from home to fight, relying on some long forgotten military training they might have had years ago. The houses tended to avoid large standing armies because they were a liability to the state and extremely expensive. Instead, most required some form of military training for civilians in case they were needed in times of crisis. Most of these kids seemed to have been pulled out of their jobs and classes just a few weeks ago, given some refresher training and tossed back into the meat grinder. She, Chris and Nick had avoided the training when they were younger since there was no eminent threat to Goteborg and because they were at Goteborg University, at least that's what the Goteborg authorities had told them in a letter. They were lucky. Others were being pulled out of school.

Claire sighed again, but didn't notice the man who came to stand next to her until he spoke.

“I hope we're done for the day,” he said quietly.

Claire wasn't sure if he was talking to himself or to her, but decided on trying to be friendly. The words of a stranger who wasn't hanging on to his guts and screaming would be comforting. She knew no one else here.

“I know,” she said, brushing her blond hair out of her face. It was a stupid thing to say, but her mind couldn't think of anything else.

The man closed his eyes. “I've seen enough for a life time I think. I'm a scientist. I have a doctorate, but these people think I'm some sort of medical doctor.”

“You're not?”

“No,” he said, half laughing. “I wouldn't have the stomach for that. I like seeing how things work, you know, what makes things tick, but I'm an astrophysicist. I want to know what makes the universe tick.” He paused. “Sorry, I'm sure that sounded dumb.”

“It's not. I'm just the opposite I think. I had some medical training, but I'm a micro-biologist and chemist.”

“You're with the Evers then?” The man asked.

“No. I'm, uh, Claire. I lived in Mannerborg, down the road a few hours drive from here.”

“Alexander Corwin,” the man said, extending a hand. He stood about Claire's height, with sandy brown hair and a tight face, like plastic wrapped over bone. He was slender, tired-looking, but clearly intelligent.

Claire shook it, ignoring the blood stains – hers were no cleaner – and noting the strong calluses. He certainly did live a life of manual labor for an astrophysicist.

“You have a last name. You're not from here then?”

“Oh no,” Alexander said, waving his hand. “I'm from Strathclyde, in the Treth Federation. I work for the Harding Corporation now, locating and designing suitable locations for mineral extraction. The Evers people probably got my name off a ship manifest and tracked me down,” Alexander explained. “I was here meeting a client and some House Evers people came looking for me. Apparently they believed I would be happy to help them fend off the Dominion.”

“I guess you weren't,” Claire said.

“No. I don't suspect you are either. You and I are different, you see. We're scientists, intellectuals. We belong in the universities, not the militias. I don't think either of us had much of a choice,” Alexander said with a hint of wistfulness.

You have no idea,
Claire thought.
That Sir Aaron dragged us down here and put us in danger for nothing.

“I'm not even a Commonwealth citizen – or peasant as they seem to like to call us here.”

“Can they impress you into service like that? Legally I mean?”

“I doubt it. But what is Strathclyde going to do about it? The nobles control everything around here,” Alexander laughed. It seemed funny to laugh when covered in blood and gore and men dying on the other side of the door, but Claire offered a smile regardless.

“How did you come to be here?” Alexander asked her.

Claire shrugged. “It happened pretty quickly,” she said.

“Lots of things do.”

“Well, I was on a star ship, the
MacCleod
, with my brother. I was their medical officer. Something happened to the last one so I volunteered to replace him. We were stopped on a cargo run and then brought here.”

“Your brother was taken, too? Is he here?”

“My brother is a jerk,” she said flatly. “He's let power go to his head. The kinds of people he associates with...”

“He likes money then? I know Greed is one of Amrah's sins, but it seems to be the most common, and most forgivable.”

“No. He wants to feel important. He's not. He's a nobody like me and you. He's easy to manipulate so he ends up with these dangerous, twisted people doing terrible things so he thinks he might have some sort of influence, some sort of power. I guess it's Greed, but not for wealth,” Claire admitted with a pang of regret. She felt bad speaking so of her twin to a stranger, but she had no one else to talk to.

But why protect him? Chris took a war criminal back to his army and now they were here, killing and butchering the people of this world. She ached to tell Alexander, ached to tell Sir Aaron, or even that woman who seemed to pull his strings. She needed to tell someone that she was against it, hated Pershing and her brother for what he did. She needed to do it to absolve herself. She needed to wash the blood off her hands.

“I'm sorry,” Alexander said.

“So why are you still here? Why didn't you just get out before the Dominion attacked? There were still civilian ships leaving Garda station right up until the Dominion shut it down,” Claire asked abruptly.

Alexander shrugged. “I suppose I could have gotten off if I really wanted to.

“So why are you still here I mean? I don't think they're actually guarding the barn. It wouldn't be hard to slip out. Maybe bribe the truck drivers?”

Alexander glanced over at the trucks, their crews were still loading bodies into the back. He watched them for a few moments as if considering Claire's suggestion.

“Maybe it's stupid, I don't know. I thought I might be able to help some of the people here. You know, make less work for those guys loading bodies. I've seen enough death before I came here, believe me. It bothers me,” Alexander nearly whispered.

Claire looked down at Alexander. Tears had begun to roll down his face, causing the dirt and blood to run.

“I'm sorry,” Claire said. “I didn't mean-”

“It's fine. It's just all caught up to me now. I'm so busy working in there that it doesn't hit me until after. The adrenaline kicks in. You don't realize you were up to your elbows up someone's bloody wound trying to clamp an artery until hours later. Now I'm sitting next to a beautiful woman acting like a fool.”

Claire slid down the wall to sit next to him. She wasn't quite sure how to comfort him or if she should even bother. This was not a situation with which she was entirely familiar. There were other men in her life who seemed simpler, Chris, even Nick. There was something else about this Alexander, more complicated. He wasn't just a businessman, not even only a scientist. Why in Amrah's name he ever really wanted to stay here was anyone's guess. Maybe he was simply stuck like she was.

A helicopter buzzed overhead then landed on the tarmac outside.

Carefully, she put her arm around his shoulder and waited quietly for Alexander to compose himself.

“It's not a weakness to care about other human beings,” she said.

There was a bustle of activity and frantic shouting. A man in a bloody uniform stepped into the hall. “You two! Get in here!”

Claire got to her feet and Alexander dashed in front into the barn. A stretcher was being rushed to one of the operating tables. Claire pushed clean gloves onto her hands and hurried to the table just as the soldiers were transferring the wounded man. He was in bad shape. His torso was partially ripped open and there was a gaping wound in his leg. Part of his right arm was missing. He was unconscious and bleeding. His damaged chest still heaved and breathed raggedly. Other soldiers around the barn started to gather and murmured to themselves.

“We need to stop the bleeding, now!” Claire shouted.

A hand grabbed her elbow. The bloodied man glared into her eyes. “Do you know who this is?”

“I don't care who he is. Now leave me alone!”

Claire ripped her arm free and ordered instructions to the other medical personnel. Blood vessels were tied off, a cap was places on the missing right forearm. Immediately, they began to work on stabilizing the gaping chest wound. Alexander was knuckle deep in the wound, working desperately to stop the bleeding. Field medics had been able to do some work, but it wasn't enough.

Sweat poured from her brow and she wiped it away quickly.

Come on, please. Not another one.

Then he flat lined.

Claire stopped. Alexander looked up then shook his head.

“He's gone,” he said quietly.

The barn fell silent except for the whine of the cardiac monitor. One of the soldiers removed his cap. Claire dropped the instruments and tossed her gloves on the body. She sighed deeply and shut off the machine.

“That was Sir Ian Evers,” one of the sergeants said. “Heir to Goteborg.”

Claire held her head in her hands. “I know,” she whispered.

Sir Aaron Mercer-Sten

Knight Scion of House Mercer

Verland, Goteborg, Magdeborg Commonwealth

______________

Disasters came on very quickly and Aaron wondered if he was watching one unfold now. The command center was nearly empty, just a few assistants puttered around in the background, updating charts and performing basic repairs. Most of the nobles were in the field with their sections. Kristoffer was in his bunk which left Aaron largely alone with his thoughts and battle plans. Never had he planned an operation as large as the defense of Goteborg and the stress of it was beginning to wear him down.

Over the past week, Commonwealth and Dominion forces had pecked away at each other. A few sections had been engaged in skirmishes here and there and the Evers were biting at the bit to get into the fight. Yesterday a force under House Adelheim launched an uncoordinated attack against the Dominion flank. Earl Erik Adelheim did not inform Aaron of his attack so he was just as surprised as the Dominion when four Adelheim sections broke into the lines of House Farald, partially collapsing it. Unfortunately, Pershing had been quick to send reinforcements and by the time Aaron learned of the attack there was nothing he could do to control it. Even though they killed three Dominion nobles and almost knocked House Farald out of the fight, Adelheim was nearly annihilated. The army cheered Erik Adelheim, who had miraculously survived, but no one was dumb enough to think the sacrifice gained them anything. It was worse than a military loss. It was a blow to Aaron's ego. Erik Adelheim disobeyed his orders and only proved Lady Evers correct. He couldn't control his army.

Now he watched one of the satellite monitors. Red squares, circles, and triangles moved slowly across one of the grid boxes into another. It was nearly three full companies, Aaron knew, a mixture of Houses Bish, Madet and a few sections from the Caeph Royal Hussars. Lord Morlan was launching a major flanking attack. It was late, much past midnight and Commonwealth recon elements were watching Pershing's troops make their way slowly towards the line of resistance. He was hoping Aaron would commit troops to stop the advance.

Of course, doing so would weaken the center of the Commonwealth line so that Pershing's own units could overrun them. House Evers had already suffered losses on the left flank along with the other houses. A SAR helicopter had located the remains of Sir Ian Evers' destrier and raced the young noble back, still alive. He died on the operating table apparently under the hands of Claire. This sent Lady Diana Evers into a rage, demanding the deaths of the two Jericho brothers who'd killed her son and nearly launching her own counter attack alone and unsupported. Had Aaron not stopped her, she would have led the remnants of her house into the waiting jaws of the fresh Dominion Second Caeph Guards' six sections.

Aaron shook his head at the display and called up his available forces. A list of sections, strengths and people appeared and he carefully selected those whom he would send. He had no choice, he would have to weaken the center to make sure Pershing did not get around the flank. It was an impossible choice; damned if he did and damned if he didn't.

“Trouble ahead, huh?” Reyna said, appearing at his side.

“Three companies, at least twenty sections if not more. We're going to struggle to keep them away from the flank. The Evers militia is going to try to slow them down while we maneuver forces, but they're going to lose a lot of their strength.”

Aaron paused.

“And?”

“One of them is marked as Pershing's command section. He is personally leading the maneuver,” Aaron said with more calmness than he felt.

Reyna slunk around into view and took a seat next to him. She kicked her feet up onto the bank of monitors and closed her eyes. “So who gets to defend the flank?”

Aaron glanced at his force lists, trying to see around the boot that blocked his view. “Well there's the troops under Houses Canton and Odronik.”

“And?”

“And what?”

“There's another house that hasn't been in combat, yet.”

Aaron narrowed his brow in confusion. “You mean House Evers?”

Reyna rolled her eyes. “No, try again.”

Aaron sighed and leaned back in the chair. “Reyna, please, I don't have time for these games again.”

“You have your own house sections at your command as well, Aaron. Have you forgotten?”

Aaron blinked. Of course there were the three Mercer sections. He did not own them in the feudal sense, but his family had loaned them under the command of knights to Lord Damien and his border army as a show of solidarity. Aaron had accompanied them, but he'd hesitated to deploy them. They were the last remnants of his house.

“They're not broken, yet, our own house. They were hurt badly in the loss of Haberton, but they're itching for revenge.
I'm
itching for revenge, Aaron,” she said poking her chest with her thumb. “What else would stop the attack cold than two angry sections of Mercers led by the commanding knight himself? Why haven't you deployed us in combat, yet? If that is Pershing himself, who better than to kill him in combat than you?”

Aaron looked away.
Because I'm damn afraid of losing more Mercers to the Dominion,
he answered silently.

“Because we've needed to keep a healthy reserve in case they break through,” he lied. Badly.

Reyna raised her eyebrows.
Oh please
, he knew she was thinking.

“If that's going to be your defense then consider the very real possibility that Pershing will break through that flank and take this entire army from the rear. We already traded Ian Evers and his sections to knock House Jerricho out of the fight. If we can knock out Bish and Madet in this next exchange we might be able to at least level the playing field.”

Aaron nodded. “That would lave them with Houses Dreyfus, Nowitski, Moriarti as well as the Second Guards and Royal Hussars. It doesn't really tip the odds in our favor, but it certainly helps things.”

“While we still leave House Evers largely intact along with the other minor houses that have donated troops,” Reyna said. “That's at least a fair fight. We may even convince Pershing to back off the planet or stall the invasion long enough to rally more border troops.”

“And then who would command the defense here if Pershing decides to use the flanking attack as a feint for a larger frontal assault? Kristoffer?”

Reyna snorted, apparently ignoring his attempt at sarcasm. “Your new charge might think he is a fast learner, but this is not to be his trial by fire. Right now he's barely fit to guard the latrines with a pea shooter.”

Aaron smirked, for just a moment imagining the young Archduke in full regalia, valiantly defending the toilets from the onslaught of Dominion forces. “I suppose Lady Evers would be perfectly capable.”

“She ought to be,” Reyna said leaning in until she was practically in his lap. Aaron felt himself becoming suddenly aroused. His heart rate jumped and his mind focused on things that were strenuous, but not of a military nature. “Deploy us, Aaron. The other Mercer warriors want to fight, have been
begging
to fight. After what Pershing did to us on Haberton, they want to balance the scales in deaths a bit.
I
want to kill them, because I'm sick that they can rampage across the border unchecked.”

Aaron weighed the option. She smelled sweet, he realized. Intoxicating. His head swam.

“Do it for me?” She asked so quietly he strained to hear her.

Aaron chewed his bottom lip, trying to think over the plan and its potential consequences.
If
they managed to halt Pershing's flanking maneuver and
if
they managed to cause enough damage to Houses Bish and Madet
,
they
might
be able to convince him to retreat off planet, marking a major victory for the Commonwealth. It'd raise morale for the survivors and might be enough to convince more Houses to donate troops.
That's a lot of “ifs.”

“Alright, let's saddle up those sections and get this rolling,” he said determinately. “Have Lady Evers take control of the center while we block Pershing's flanking maneuver. I want Pershing left to me. Personally.”

Reyna smiled and nodded, pleased to get her way. She left the command center to get the attack organized.

But this is dangerous. Stripping the center to reinforce the fight will leave them vulnerable. But maybe she's right. Maybe we can stop Pershing here. Maybe when Damien returns, he'll find his enemy broken, beaten and suing for peace. That would be comforting.

Aaron leaned back, forcing himself to relax. If the Dominion was broken here, it would leave Haberton, his home, vulnerable. He had missed the fight, felt shamed that his family had died in his stead while he was among Damien's army. While they died, he was safe and being intimate with Reyna. He justified his situation by refusing to throw the last of House Mercer into the fight and seeing them die, too. No more. They were not museum pieces, they were warriors as was he.

Crushing or killing Pershing would bring justice for House Mercer, removing them from Haberton would be the final nail in the coffin. Aaron began to feel a bit giddy as he thought about leading the remnants of the Mercer armies against the Dominion, taking territory and establishing himself as a Commonwealth lord. But he shoved those thoughts away. He had a job to do here before deluding himself with such conquests.

“Sir Aaron,” the voice echoed in the empty room.

Aaron sighed and turned the chair to see Kristoffer standing in the doorway. “What is it?” Aaron asked as calmly as his tired state would allow.

“I wanted to ask you something,” he said, walking into the room. He was wearing a standard uniform with the markings of House Evers. The house's insignia, a flying eagle grasping a struggling snake in its claws stood out on his chest. On the tips of its flapping wings were written the names of the great battles in which the house had fought. Soon Goteborg would be added to another feather.

“Well, what is it?” Aaron demanded.

“I want to fight. If that means transferring me to the militia, I'll do it. I won't let my friend go into battle without me again. It's not fair. I'm the reason he's here-”

“No.”

Chris' brow narrowed. “That's it then? You won't even hear me out? You've taken me here, threatened me with-”

Aaron lunged, striking Chris with a closed fist and sending him reeling. Chris stumbled then collapsed to his knees. Aaron's mind had already gone red and he stalked towards his prey. He grabbed Chris by the collar and threw him against the wall.

“Listen to me you Ithix damned little bastard. If you ever question me again I will shoot you on the spot. No, you may not go and fight in the militia. You may not die on the battlefield with honor,” Aaron snarled, keeping his fingers tight on Chris' throat.

Chris struggled and Aaron suddenly saw himself as the eagle clutching the snake in its talons.

“Why?” Chris wheezed. “Why did you bring me here? What do you want from me?”

“I know what you did,” Aaron said flatly. “I know about Pershing and your secret mission.”

Realization sunk into the young Archduke's face. It slackened and fear ebbed into his eyes.

“You let loose the most dangerous man in the entire human core. He raped and murdered my house, took my homeworld and killed millions. And you let him free!”

Chris stuttered and gurgled like an infant. He scratched at Aaron's tightening grasp making his hands bleed.

Feeble.

“I'll tell you then. I don't want you to go die in the militias because I want you to watch Pershing destroy
your
homeworld. I want you to see the ruined cities and the broken bodies. I want you see what he will do here as he did everywhere else. I want you to share in my suffering. Then I want you to watch as I kill Morlan Pershing on the battlefield while you sit pitifully on the sidelines. You have no power, no importance, nothing. You are no body.”

Aaron released him and Chris dropped to the ground, desperately sucking and gasping in air. He coughed loudly and crawled away from Aaron.

“Get to the barracks and get my sections ready for battle.”

Chris scrambled away from Aaron and ran from the command center.

Pitiful.