by Jay Allan
Taylor stood still for a few seconds, the angry look on his face giving way, yielding to an amused smile. Pompous ass, he thought…if only he knew how much I didn’t give a shit.
He turned back toward Black. “Don’t look so glum, Blackie.” He walked toward his oldest friend. “I know what I’m doing.” He paused, noting the doubtful expression on Black’s face. “Really, I do.”
“Whatever you say, Jake.” Black still sounded concerned…and even more confused. He’d been worried about Taylor for some time, and he was afraid his friend had finally lost it. Still, he wasn’t ready to challenge him. “You know I’ll do whatever you say.”
“I know.” He reached out and put his hand on Black’s shoulder. “Just trust me, my friend. I’ll fill you in on everything.” He panned his head around, looking at the faces staring in his direction. “Just not here.”
Chapter 19
From the Journal of Jake Taylor:
Back on Earth I was an obedient citizen. More or less, at least. I had the occasional gripe, as most people do, but basically I believed what I was taught and did what I was told. That began to change on Erastus. I saw things, not just the suffering all around me, but the gulf between the UN staffers and the lifers, like my men and I. I saw the injustice, the culture of superiority among them. I began to realize the inadequacy of the justifications we were given. I became bitter. I began to resent – and later hate – the system that sent me to this terrible place...without even the hope of coming home. I finally resolved to quit, only to be blackmailed into returning to my post…on pain of my closet friends being persecuted if I refused.
I long had my doubts about much of what the government and the high command did, the decisions they made and the often callous way they treated the soldiers fighting this war. But even in my angriest moments…even when Kazan was threatening to murder those closest to me…I had never perceived a shadow of the ghastly truth. No matter how upset I was or how much I chafed under the directives of UN Central, I had always believed, at least, that I was here defending mankind from an alien doom. Now, even that has been stripped away from me. My faith in our cause, and all the times I sought refuge in that belief…it all seems like the worst sort of idiocy now. Why was I such a fool?
Why are people so easily led? Why do we believe the things we are told, demanding no proof, no evidence? How do we fail, time and again, to think for ourselves? Why do we discover one fraud, only to willingly accept the next one without question? Because we’re told to…taught to? Because our parents did…or, in the case of my father and I, because he didn’t and I wanted to rebel against his constant tirades?
How much of what we are told is true? Government, teachers, family…how many are honest? How many lie? How many unwittingly pass on their own ignorance? The history we are taught…what of it is true, and what is fabrication? What ethical codes that we follow are truly just, constructed from our core beliefs, and which are constructs, created by evil men to control people’s thoughts, their actions? The smarter, the wiser among us…those with the foresight and intelligence to see through what our world has become…do they languish and die in the reeducation facilities, ignored by the masses, who obediently write them off as crazy fools, menaces to society?
Is there even such a thing as “reeducation?” Or are those dark places simply death camps, where any who stand against the established order are sent to disappear?
I have changed in many ways since I was sent here to fight an unjust war. I have mourned the loss of my family and watched friends die in agony, terrified and far from home. There is almost nothing left of me, of Jake Taylor, the man. I have become soulless death.
But I have one thing left to live for, one force that drives me forward with relentless determination. I will have vengeance. For me. For the thousands who have died on Erastus and the other Portal worlds. For the men and women who fought alongside my father and saw all they loved about their nation stolen from them, for the billions forced to live under the yoke of UN Central. For the Tegeri, who sought only to be mankind’s teachers, but became their victims instead.
I will destroy the creatures who have wrought this…and those who have come after them, filled their shoes and perpetuated this monstrous war for their own gain. I will tear down this unholy evil stone by stone, and I will see UN Central burned to ashes before these eyes close for the last time. This I swear, with all that remains to me.
Death to all who are complicit in this horror. To any who work to perpetuate it…for any who are part of this are stained with the guilt, as are those who offer them aid or succor. They must be eradicated from the universe, hunted down wherever they may seek to hide and utterly destroyed. Like an infection. There can be no pity, no mercy…and any who offer such are as guilty as those they comfort.
This is my oath, and I pledge to it my blood, and all of my soul that remains to me. Nothing shall stand in my way…and any who try will become my enemies. My victims.
The room was silent except for the faint hum of the ventilation system. Taylor stood in the center, staring down, moving his eyes over his seated friends. He’d just told them. About T’arza, the Tegeri, the war. Everything.
“So…” He broke the silence after a minute or two. “…you guys believe me? Or do you think I’m crazy?”
“Jake, you know we’re with you 100%.” Blackie spoke after another uncomfortable silence. “But this is a lot to absorb.” His tone was confused, uncertain. Tony Black would never disbelieve anything Jake told him…but this was truly extraordinary. Black had already been worried about Taylor’s mental state, and now this?
“Blackie…all of you…I know you guys have my back. You’re the best friends I’ve ever had. And I know this sounds crazy.” Taylor’s voice was calm, focused. He reached into his pocket and pulled something out. “But it happened exactly as I said.” He held up a small medallion hanging on a chain. It was silvery in color, but unlike any metal they’d ever seen. It seemed to be constantly changing its hue, giving it a shimmering effect. “T’arza gave me this before the Tegeri released me. The design is the sigil of his house.” He paused, looking over toward one of the blank featureless walls. “But it is quite functional as well as decorative.”
As he finished speaking, images appeared in front of the wall. Holograms…three dimensional video, depicting the first human colonies on New Earth. They were under attack…not by the Machines, but by heavily-armed soldiers. Human soldiers.
Every eye was on the projection, watching…wincing at the atrocities portrayed before them. No one spoke…they barely breathed as they stared in shock at the horrors Taylor displayed for them.
“This device is pretty strong proof I was with the Tegeri.” Taylor spoke softly. “It’s certainly nothing built by man.” He took a shallow breath. “And the revelation they provided me was simply this…it wasn’t the Tegeri and the Machines who started this war…it was UN Central. It was all a plan to facilitate the Consolidation.”
“Jake…” It was Hank Daniels, sounding shaky, uncertain. “…how do we know this is real? I mean, we believe you, of course, but how do we know the enemy isn’t playing all of us?”
Taylor walked toward his friend, taking a seat on the edge of the long sofa. “We don’t, Hank.” He looked over at the others. “The truth is, we have to decide what we believe.”
“But you’ve decided.” Karl Young looked over at Taylor. The excitable officer was uncharacteristically calm. “Haven’t you, Jake?”
“I have, Karl. But you all need to make your own choices.”
“Why, Jake?” It was Black, sounding skeptical. “Why do you believe this is true? It could all be a fabrication, an attempt to sow confusion in our ranks. If UN Central could make fake vids to show us, so could the Tegeri.”
“You’re right, Blackie.” Taylor didn’t argue...he just nodded as he spoke. “I was skeptical too, at first. But the more I heard, the more sense it all made to me.”
“This makes sense
to you?” Bear spoke slowly, softly. “Could men really be responsible for this? Can we take an alien’s…an enemy’s…word for something like this?”
“No, Bear. We don’t take anyone’s word.” Taylor stood up, the calmness in his tone giving way, showing a sliver of the suppressed anger. “For anything. We’ve done far too much of that already. We’ve accepted what we’ve been told…followed orders without question. We have aided this fraud in our own way, as have all Earth’s citizens. That must end.”
Taylor paused, looking around the room, seeing the uncertainty in his friends’ faces. “You must each decide what you believe…and what course of action you will pursue.” He hesitated again. “But think about all you know. Remember the way the UN staffers have treated you. The disrespect, the contempt. Think about the time before you came to Erastus. How much of your life was ruled by fear. Fear of penalties, of persecution…of ending up in a reeducation camp? How many of you went hungry? Blackie…how many nights did you sleep in the streets, just trying to find someplace safe enough to close your eyes. How many people went to reeducation camps and never returned?” He panned his eyes, looking at each of them in turn before he continued. “Ask yourselves…is Earth’s government trustworthy?”
Taylor walked slowly across the room. “T’arza told me the Tegeri and the Machines would leave Erastus in four days.” He stopped and turned back to face the others. “It has been two days. Have you seen a report of any enemy activity? You all saw the enemy withdrawing in front of us. Every one of you knows full well they had enough force there to give us one hell of a fight.”
There was another long silence, everyone present deep in thought. Finally, it was Black who spoke first. “OK, Jake.” His didn’t sound convinced, but the skepticism was mostly gone from his voice. “Suppose we agree with you. What do we do about it?”
“We take our vengeance Blackie.” Taylor’s tone turned dark, ominous. “We destroy them…all those responsible for this abomination.” He glared at the seated officers, his eyes on fire.
They all stared back at Taylor, stunned looks on their faces. Bear was the first to respond. “Jake, we’d follow you to hell…you know that. But how are the five of us supposed to take on UN Central?”
“A step at a time, Bear.” Taylor spoke confidently. “First, we unite the forces on Erastus.” His body tensed, his anger filling him with determination. “Let the revolution begin here…on this hell to which we were consigned.”
“Some of the boys will follow, Jake…most of our guys probably.” Black looked at Taylor, staring right into his eyes. “But UN Central will brand us as traitors…they will order all the other forces on Erastus to oppose us.” He paused. “You know we will never convince them all. What do we do with the rest?”
Taylor stared back at Black, a pitiless cold in his eyes. “We fight them, Blackie. We kill them.” His voice was unemotional, almost deadpan. “They must side with us…or become our enemies. Any who stand in our way must be destroyed.”
The room fell silent again. Taylor gave them a minute to consider his words before continuing. “I know that is an upsetting prospect. But this is no time for half measures. There is no way to overstate the horrendous evil that has been perpetrated…upon us, upon all the citizens of Earth, upon the Tegeri.”
Taylor began pacing across the room as he spoke, stopping to look intently at each man present. “Think about the scope of what has happened. Remember the families you left behind…those of all the soldiers on Erastus. Imagine your mothers – or sisters or girlfriends – looking up at the stars, eyes raw from crying, thinking of you, the pain of loss still fresh. All that suffering, all that sacrifice. And not just Erastus…but on 40 worlds. The thousands dead. Every bloody, scared kid any of us has held as he took his last rattling breath. All a waste…an endless parade of horrors. So a few men could make themselves the world’s masters.”
Emotion was creeping back into Taylor’s voice. Anger, certainly, but urgency as well. He spoke like a zealot exhorting his companions to join a crusade. “Think of the Tegeri. You have fought them…been brainwashed to hate them, lied to and convinced they were genocidal creatures. But it is we, my friends, who have been the monsters. Our souls will bear that guilt forever, for what we have done, we have done, despite the false pretexts that drove us.”
His voice began to crack slightly. Taylor had always carried guilt for the soldiers he lost; now he bore the burden for all those his people had killed as well...the thousands and thousands of Machines they had murdered in cold blood.
He could see the expressions change on the faces around him. His friends, his loyal companions…only now were they beginning to comprehend what he had told them, the true scope of what had been done to them all.
“We must destroy this evil…and nothing must be allowed to stand in our way. The shades of the dead scream for justice…for vengeance.” Taylor was practically screaming. “Follow me, my friends...trust in me. We must act. For therein lies our sole hope for redemption…for absolution of the sins for which we all share the guilt.”
He could see in their eyes. He was reaching them…digging, unleashing that pain they kept buried deep. Karl Young was the first. He stood up, thrusting his fist into the air. “Jake is right! We must set things to right…we cannot allow this to stand.” He looked right at Taylor. “I am with you, Jake. Wherever this takes us…whatever we must do.”
Taylor stepped forward, grasping Frantic’s arm, turning his head, looking toward the others.
“Of course we’re with you, Jake.” Blackie rose, and walked toward Taylor. “Always.”
Bear stood next. “Always.” He moved to Jake, throwing his massive arms around Taylor, Black, and Frantic.
Hank Daniels sat, watching the other four embracing. He had an odd smile on his face. Taylor turned his head, looking at the last member of his inner circle. “Hank?”
Daniels’ smile widened. “I’m just sitting here waiting for you to tell me when we start, Dog.”
Chapter 20
From the Journal of Jake Taylor:
I’ve tried for years to write about the feeling of battle, but every time I started, the words just wouldn’t come. It’s a hard thing to describe, especially to one who hasn’t experienced it. I knew almost nothing about war when I enlisted. I was familiar with a bit of the history, at least the stuff on the approved list, but that’s more of who fought who…not the actual experience of war. That part was a complete mystery.
The biggest surprise to me was the boredom. Actual combat is enormously stressful, but most of a soldier’s life is spent on routine. In base, on patrol, doing maneuvers. In a place like Erastus, that routine is miserable, and long breaks between action can sap morale quicker than battle. If you sit in base long enough, you forget how terrible combat is…then you get into a nasty fight, and the routine doesn’t seem so bad anymore. For a while.
Battle. How can I explain how that feels? You’re scared, for starters. Even in a place like Erastus, even when your hope and your will to live seem to be gone…you’re still scared shitless. Anybody who says he’s been in battle and wasn’t terrified is lying or crazy. Or both.
Surviving combat requires concentration…or luck. And luck never lasts. It’s not easy to maintain a cool focus when your heart is pounding in your ears and sweat is pouring down your face. To make it through the battlefield you need to think about every step you take, every move you make. When you stop paying attention, even for a second, you do something stupid. And that’s usually when you die.
That’s the hardest part for the rookies. Most of them manage the fear…at least well enough. But they get rattled…they get distracted. They forget to keep their heads down or they get sidetracked, turned around. It’s not easy to think straight, crouched behind a rock with hyper-velocity rounds tearing into the ground all around you. You can be sharp as a razor 99% of the time, but the other 1% will get you killed. It just takes one of those heavy projectiles moving at 3,000 mps to t
urn a large chunk of your body to red mist.
There’s another feeling, one that’s especially hard to describe. It’s related to the fear, certainly, but it’s more than that too. When you’re in a firefight, or you’re advancing across a field, you know you could take a hit at any time. You can almost feel the projectiles coming at you. Your body gets an odd series of urges, trying to somehow pull in on itself, get out of the danger zone. But there’s nowhere to go. It’s almost like the shakes, but not quite. When you’ve been in enough fights, you can more or less control it, but it never goes away entirely. At least it hasn’t for me.
At its heart, combat is primal. Our primitive ancestors fought. Animals will fight if provoked. The basic impulse is in all of us, waiting for a flood of chemicals from the brain, calling the body to battle. Thinking, remembering your training, is something else entirely. It requires harnessing the wildness, controlling some of it and directing the rest.
Instinctive combat is a solitary affair. Your reflexes are designed for individual action. Your mind wants to fight alone…and to flee alone when advisable. A significant part of military training is learning to overcome this and operate as a team. We are soldiers, not boxers or streetfighters. Working together magnifies combat ability, and it makes it far likelier for each individual to survive…though that part must be forced into your brain…often by experience as well as education.
A great Gallic warrior would probably have defeated a Roman legionary in single combat. But a full legion would have shattered an equal number of barbarians in a pitched battle. The experience of combat for a soldier is a shared one. We are stronger as a whole. If a part of that whole falters, all are at much greater risk. When we don’t work together, when we are not as one…that is when we fall.
