Portal Wars 1: Gehenna Dawn

by Jay Allan

  In ten years, Taylor had never been sent anywhere on Erastus that didn’t already have a name. He wondered how many more years he’d have to fight before he got to give someplace its title. Probably never. Maybe it was the prerogative of those first waves coming through a Portal into the teeth of an entrenched enemy. If so, he thought, it’s the least those poor bastards deserve. Taylor knew it was rough when UN Central first invaded a new Portal world. He didn’t know just how bad, but he’d heard a few rumors he wished he could forget. Though UNFE denied it, Jake had been told more than once that the life expectancy for newbs during the first month of the war on Erastus had been 31 hours.

  He shook himself out of his daydream and focused again on the data feed from the drones. It wouldn’t last much longer…they’d put up a dozen of the sophisticated aircraft, but there were only two left. As soon as the enemy targeted that last pair, he’d be blind again. He could launch another spread, but his supply was limited, and he wasn’t planning to burn them all this early.

  His objective was the bottom of the canyon. It was the only route within 3,000 klicks that offered terrain passable for a large force…and it led directly toward the largest Machine factory yet discovered on the planet. The ground closer to the enemy base was rugged, too broken for transports to land. The only practical avenue of attack was a march right through the canyon.

  But the riverbed was perfect ambush country too, and the enemy was dug in all along both sides of the canyon. Taylor and his people had to clear them out completely and take undisputed control of the heights, or any force moving through would be hit from both flanks and destroyed.

  “They’re really dug in there, Blackie.” Taylor’s voice was grim. A lot of his boys were going to die in the next few hours.

  He stood quietly for a minute, maybe two, then he let out a loud sigh. “Alright, Blackie…sitting around here’s not going to accomplish anything. Let’s kick off this dance. Send in the Dragonfires.” Taylor’s people were only getting one pass from the gunships. The canyon was a deathtrap for antigravs making low-level attacks…and the battlefield was too constricted for effective higher altitude support. Long-range fire would hit as many friendlies as enemies once the battle was underway.

  Black switched on his com. “Raptor, Condor squadrons…commence attack run. Blackhawk squadron, assume covering position.” That was 12 gunships inbound, weapons blazing…and six more protecting them from enemy air units.

  “Frantic’s strike forces will move out under cover of the bombardment.” Lieutenant “Frantic” Young was leading two reinforced strikeforces set to move up the north side of the canyon. The ground was less steep there, and his people were going to climb up and hit the enemy flank. Taylor paused, waiting while Black relayed that order as well.

  “When do we grab the heights?” Black turned and looked right at Taylor. The 213th was dropping onto the edge of the canyon. Taylor and Black had a special affection for their old unit, though there weren’t many guys left there from the old days.

  Taylor hesitated. He was worried about the drop. The personal antigravs were a new system, never before tested in combat. If everything went according to plan, the strikeforce would jump from hovering transports, dropping slowly – and safely – to the ground as the antigrav harnesses slowed their descent. Tested or not, the drop was the only way he could get men up there quickly, so the 213th was going in no matter what.

  “As soon as Frantic’s boys are in place.” He paused. “Then we drop onto the heights.” He looked out over the field…in the direction of the main enemy position. “Then it’s a fight to the death.”

  The Dragonfires streaked along the top of the canyon, moving at 800 mps. “Prepare for attack run.” Captain MacArthur was edgy, more so than usual. This was a rough gauntlet for his gunships to run. They were going in low, flying below the edge of the canyon when they attacked. Their firepower at such close range would be enormous, but they’d be tightly packed, with no room to maneuver. They’d be easy targets to AA fire from the ground.

  “Arm all weapons.” They were only making one run, and MacArthur was going to make it count. Taylor’s troops were coming in right after the air assault, and they needed his people to do as much damage as possible. He didn’t envy the ground pounders this one. This was some of the worst terrain he’d ever seen.

  MacArthur still didn’t like Taylor, but he was finding it difficult not to at least respect the hardassed cyborg-soldier. Besides, he wouldn’t put it past Taylor to track him down and settle things if his birds didn’t give 100%. He’d almost certainly blame MacArthur for any extra casualties he suffered because the gunships did a half-assed job. And MacArthur didn’t want any piece of that kind of grief.

  He stared at the command console. All 12 ships confirmed readiness. The drones had fed him the enemy positions, and the coordinates had been downloaded into the attack computers. Target visibility was terrible. It was almost impossible to pick out the Machine forces hidden among the rocks, so he was going to let the AIs handle the targeting.

  “Squadrons, follow my mark.” He grabbed the controls, easing off on the antigrav, dropping into the canyon. “Here we go.” He was muttering softly, mostly to himself. He pulled back on the throttle, dropping to 400 mps. “Commence firing.”

  The autoguns opened up, raking the steep hillsides below with hyper-velocity fire. It wasn’t like the last fight…that had been shooting fish in a barrel. But the enemy troops were saturated with fire nevertheless…even with their cover, they had to be taking heavy losses. It was hard to assess the damage, but MacArthur knew his people were hurting the enemy.

  An alarm sounded in the cockpit. Incoming fire. MacArthur could see the missiles tracking on the scanning display. He banked the Dragonfire hard, angling its path away from the approaching ordnance. “We’ve got interdictive fire coming in,” he shouted into the com. The missile zipped past, and MacArthur turned his ship back, moving toward his original course. “Keep your eyes open. And target launch sites for return fire.”

  He turned to his own gunner. “Take out those launchers, Sergeant.” He angled the ship again, swerving to avoid another pair of incoming rockets. “Now.”

  “Yes, sir.” Sergeant Toomey was a solid gunner…one of the best in the force. He was already targeting the enemy rocket batteries when MacArthur issued the order, and it wasn’t more than a few seconds before the ship lurched hard….half a dozen sprint missiles launching, homing in on the ground batteries.

  MacArthur turned his body 90 degrees, flipping the switches that armed the EFAs. He wanted Toomey focused on taking out missile sites, not dealing with the fuel air bombs. “All units, prepare to drop EFA’s on my mark.” He flipped the last switch, slaving all the drop controls to a single button. “Three…two…one…mark.” He flipped the last control, and the ship pitched side to side as it dropped the full weight of its EFA complement.

  The gunship raced along and slowly rose as MacArthur gunned the engines and started feeding power to the antigrav. He’d made it through. He looked at the scanner. There was nothing on the screen but a series of large white blooms, the massive heat signature of the inferno below. It was a straight line…all his people had dropped right on target, blanketing the entire enemy position with fiery death.

  He fed more power to the antigrav, arcing his ship up and away from the gorge. One after another followed…eight…nine…ten. Ten. And then nothing.

  “Raptor 05, report.” There was nothing but staticky silence on the com. “Condor 03, report.” Still nothing. “Raptor 5, Condor 3…report immediately.” MacArthur was yelling, but there was still no answer.

  Finally, a voice responded. “Raptor 01, this is Condor 04. I saw Condor 03 go down, sir.” His voice was tentative, cracking. They crashed right into the firestorm, Captain.”

  MacArthur was silent for a few seconds. “Acknowledged, Condor 04.” He was staring straight ahead, his right hand on the stick, his left balled hard into a fist. He’d never lost t
wo birds in one battle. The Dragonfires were state of the art both offensively and defensively, and they outclassed anything the Machines had to throw at them. But the battles on Erastus were getting more intense. Taylor and the rest of the Supersoldiers had won a series of big victories, and the enemy was getting more and more desperate.

  MacArthur took a deep breath. “Raptor and Condor squadrons, assume pre-programmed covering positions.” His people had done their part to hit the Machine ground forces. Now they had to make sure no enemy air got through to Taylor’s people.

  “Alright, boys…on my mark…” Lieutenant Riley Bergen was leaning out of the transport, looking down 200 meters to the jagged edge of the canyon below. “...three, two, one…mark.”

  Bergen jumped through the open hatch of the transport. His body expected a gut-wrenching drop but, instead, he drifted slowly down. The antigrav was working. He turned and tried to look up, to confirm his people were dropping behind him. He caught a glimpse of a few of them, but he couldn’t bend his head back far enough to get a good look.

  His stomach jumped…the antigrav would keep him from smashing into the ground, but it was giving him a touch of motion sickness. It was an odd way to fall…unnatural. He looked down. The ground was still a good 150 meters below. His LZ was right along the rim of the canyon, but he was drifting south. Any farther and he’d come down in the gorge itself, and his antigrav didn’t have enough power to get him safely to the bottom. He pressed one of the small buttons on the harness, firing one of the small airjets…maneuvering himself back from the canyon edge. They hadn’t had a lot of time to practice the drop, and he hoped the limited training his people had on the maneuvering jets would be enough.

  The enemy wasn’t positioned to oppose their drop. Taylor’s entire force was approaching from the bottom of the canyon. All except for the 213th, which was doing the antigrav drop up on top. It was a surprise move, one Taylor had devised to insert forces where the enemy wasn’t prepared to face them.

  Riley gritted his teeth for landing. He was coming in a lot slower than he would have in freefall, but it was still hard enough to be unpleasant. His feet slapped down on the gravelly sand, and he felt the enhanced muscles in his legs tense, his knees bending to absorb the shock.

  He slapped the release button, ejecting the antigrav harness from his exos. His head snapped around, getting a bearing on his troops coming down. Most of them looked good, but he could see a few that were struggling…drifting out over the gorge. He tensed when he saw the stragglers, but there was nothing he could do. He didn’t have time to worry about it anyway…he had to get the unit organized. He reached around, pulling his assault rifle off his back. “Section leaders, form your units.” He could see that 2 of his 3 section chiefs were already down, climbing out of their harnesses.

  He walked slowly to the edge of the canyon and looked over. The terrain was as brutal as Taylor promised him it would be. There were large stretches where it was sheer cliff, but there were three or four functional paths down. They were narrow, often with deep drops on one or both sides, but they were passable. It didn’t look like there were any Machines this far up. The enemy wasn’t expecting an attack from this direction.

  The air was pungent with smoke. The Dragonfires had incinerated the enemy positions below with their fuel air bombs. There was no way to do a reliable damage assessment in terrain like this, but Riley could tell that the bombardment had been effective.

  He saw one of his men slip down below the top of the canyon, missing the LZ. There was no place near him to try and land, and the antigrav power wouldn’t last much longer. Riley was watching a KIA…he knew it, but there was no way he could stop it. He stared, paralyzed, trying to think of something…anything he could do. Then he caught another one in the corner of his eye. Then a third.

  He knew intellectually that three fatalities on a drop like this was a pretty good result, but those were his men he was watching. He was watching them die, and there wasn’t a damned thing he could do about it.

  He spun around and looked behind him. Most of his troops were down now, and the section and team leaders were trying to get them organized. The personal antigravs had worked as advertised…more or less, but the strikeforce was scattered and disorganized.

  Riley had been told that soldiers from some of the nation states had conducted similar operations before the Consolidation, using only cloth chutes to slow their descent. He couldn’t imagine keeping any semblance of order during a drop like that. Such tactics hadn’t been practiced by any armed forces for almost half a century, and even if they had been, the atmosphere on Erastus was too sparse for it to work anyway.

  “Section leaders, confirm readiness to advance.” He had to hold back a bitter laugh, glancing at the tactical display on his visor. There wasn’t a team in the 213th that was really ready. But there wasn’t time to waste. Organized or not, they were moving out in two minutes.

  “First Section…ready.” The answer was wobbly. Sergeant James’ section was less of a mess than it had been a few minutes before, but Riley knew James needed another ten minutes minimum. But it was time they didn’t have to spare. The enemy had almost certainly detected the drop. If the 213th didn’t hit them before they could reposition, the whole operation would be wasted.

  The leaders of 2nd and 3rd Sections sounded off in turn, each bullshitting Riley, telling him they were ready, though neither one was any better a liar than James.

  “All sections, advance.” Riley started walking toward James’ position. He was going to follow 1st Section with the support elements. “You’ve all got your assigned paths on your tac displays. Make sure you stay on them.” The terrain was worse than rugged, but the recon drones had spotted the best routes down the cliff. It was still going to be a hard time, but it would be much worse if the troops strayed from their assigned positions.

  Riley watched as James’ men started on the winding trail, following along as the last of the 1st Section headed down. It was a narrow path, barely wide enough for two men abreast and descending at a 30% slope, at least. It was hard to get a good footing on the loose gravelly surface, though Riley’s enhanced legs increased his stability. The rookies, he thought, the ones who hadn’t gotten their mods yet…they were going to have a hell of a time getting down the path.

  “Lieutenant, are we sure this is the right way?” It was James, sounding nervous. “I thought those drones were supposed to find us the best ways down.”

  Riley sighed softly. “This is the best way, Sergeant.” They might manage to surprise the enemy, he thought, but they weren’t getting it for free. “What did you expect, a stroll on the beach?” He felt bad mocking the veteran sergeant, but the last thing he could do was lend credence to any doubts. His people were going down this cliff. Whether they did it in an orderly fashion or approaching terminal velocity was going to depend largely on keeping their cool.

  Riley shot a thought to his com, cutting the line. There was nothing more to talk about. He stumbled a little himself, sliding down about a meter on the loose stones before he caught himself. The path was getting worse…and from the sound of James’ voice, he assumed that was going to continue as they moved forward. There had been a fairly steep drop to one side when they started, but now the right was a sheer cliff of at least 100 meters, and the path itself was narrowing further.

  Riley could see that the tail of 1st Section had stopped completely. He reopened the com line. “Sergeant James, why has the column stopped?”

  “Sorry, sir.” James was distracted, clearly in the middle of something. “The path keeps getting smaller, sir. I had to put the men in single file.”

  “Very well, Sergeant.” Fuck, Riley thought…this is really the best route? That’s what he’d told James, and it was exactly what Taylor had said to him. But he was finding it hard to believe now. “Carry on. Let’s keep moving.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Riley stood, looking out over the terrain below, trying to spot enemy positi
ons. A minute passed, then two. Finally, he could see the men ahead begin to move. Looking carefully, he stared down slowly, waving for the troops behind him to follow.

  The path angled sharply, and suddenly it became a knife edge, steep drop-offs on both sides. Riley stared straight ahead, his eyes downcast, focused on the ground in front of him. He could feel his heart pounding in his ears. He didn’t like heights…didn’t like them one bit. It crossed his mind how silly it was to be so disturbed by a pointless phobia when he was on his way into battle. He was far likelier to get shot by a Machine than to lose his footing and fall. But it didn’t matter…all he could think about was getting down off the heights.

  “Lieutenant, we’re approaching the enemy line.” James again, sounding excited. “They’re on the move, trying to reposition. It looks like we caught them flatfooted. Request permission to attack.”

  Riley smiled. Young’s people must be engaged on the flank, he thought. “Permission granted, Sergeant. Attack.” He switched the com to the strikeforce command line. “All sections…attack.”

  “Keep moving…all of you.” Young’s voice was loud and urgent. They didn’t call him Frantic for nothing. His people had been attacking nonstop for over an hour, but he wasn’t about the give the enemy a chance to regroup. Or even breathe. “Forward! Now!”

  He glanced out from behind a jagged rock outcropping, spying another position about 60 meters forward. He’d be in the open, at least for a few seconds, but the Machines were disordered and pulling back. It was worth the risk.

  He leaned forward, keeping his head low as his surgically enhanced leg muscles powered him forward. The ground was steep and rugged. He wasn’t sure he would have been able to keep his footing before the mods, but his upgraded legs were more than up to the task. He knew stronger legs would make him faster, but he’d been surprised at how much the added power helped his balance.