Portal Wars: The Trilogy

by Jay Allan

  “Lieutenant, we’ll be finished in ten minutes…twelve tops.” Graves’ voice was loud, and the message startled Taylor. The engineer sounded distracted. He and his men were working as quickly as possible to set the nuclear mine so they could all get the hell out. Graves – and Taylor too – would have much preferred to nuke the factory with a missile, eliminating the need for the bloody ground attack or for any of them to be deep within the facility standing around a 3 megaton warhead. But the base was dug into a mountain, and it was far from certain any nuke in UNFE’s arsenal would penetrate sufficiently to destroy it. And if they had tried and failed, the surprise so essential to the operation would have been lost. By the time they came in on the ground, the enemy would have massively reinforced. The assault would have quickly turned into a bloody disaster.

  “Acknowledged, sir.” Taylor signaled Daniels while he spoke to Graves, holding up both hands, all his fingers upright, indicating 10 minutes. “Be advised that we are engaging substantial enemy forces, Captain.” A brief pause. “Any minutes you can shave off will make our withdrawal less problematic.”

  “We’ll do what we can, Lieutenant. You don’t want us rushing too much with this thing.” Graves cut the line.

  Taylor nodded. He wasn’t going to waste his time thinking about what could go wrong with the plan. The nuke was Graves’ problem. The Machines were his.

  “Let’s go, Gomez. Your people are moving like a bunch of old ladies.” Taylor knew he wasn’t being fair – the corporal’s team was shot to pieces. Danton was dead, and Gomez was leading the survivors of both crews. They had more wounded than able-bodied personnel, and it was hard to withdraw under fire while carrying your comrades. But fair was bullshit, and Jake knew it. There was getting out of here and not getting out. Those were the two options. Fair had nothing to do with any of it.

  “We’re on the way, sir.” Taylor could hear the pain in Gomez’ voice. The corporal had reported he’d taken a minor wound in the leg, but Jake had a feeling it was a lot worse than that.

  They’d killed a lot of Machines, but there were more coming. They were far less effective than typical Machines. Taylor figured they were fresh off the manufacturing line, and they had enough more than enough numbers to make up for reduced efficiency. There was no way to win a protracted fight and, besides, the nuclear warhead was going to blow in less than 15 minutes. The thing was booby-trapped to prevent the enemy from disarming it, but UN Command had ordered a short detonation countdown anyway. They didn’t want to take any chances on the Machines deactivating the mine in spite of the defenses. If that put a lot of pressure on Taylor and Graves and their people to get the hell out, so be it. Destroying the facility was vastly more important to the high command than a section of infantry and an engineer crew.

  Taylor and the main force were almost to the entrance. He didn’t want to send anyone back, and risk more of his men not getting out. But he couldn’t leave Gomez and his people behind. There was only one thing to do. “Hank, get everybody out and onto that transport.”

  “You’re not thinking about…”

  “Just do it.” Taylor had already turned around. “And you lift off and get everybody out of here five minutes before detonation.” He stared right at Daniels. “Not one second later. Do you understand me?”

  Daniels stood silently, shifting his weight nervously back and forth. “Do you understand me, Sergeant Daniels?” Taylor’s tone was imperious, almost angry. He didn’t have time to argue.

  “Yes, sir.” Daniels answered grudgingly, his voice sullen.

  Taylor spun around and jogged down the corridor. He unslung his assault rifle, holding it at the ready in front of him. The tactical display showed Gomez’ group about 200 meters back. He also had blips showing enemy forces another 300 meters behind them. The data points on the Machines were courtesy of the nanobot detectors Gomez had dropped behind as his people ran for it.

  He covered about 150 meters and rounded the corner. There they were, about 30 meters ahead. It was worse than he thought. There were only six of them, all the survivors from two 8-man teams. It looked like 2 were unhurt, and each of them was carrying a badly wounded comrade. Corporal Gomez was in the back, struggling forward slowly, his fatigues soaked in blood. He was waving ahead, yelling for the rest of the men to move faster and leave him behind.

  “Let’s go, you guys.” Jake shouted down the corridor, gesturing wildly for the men to run toward him. He kept moving, passing them by, stopping next to Gomez.

  “Lieutenant, you shouldn’t be back here, sir. We might not make…”

  “We’re all going to make it, Corporal.” Jake sounded sincere, but he was far from sure. He gave them about a 50/50 shot of getting to the transport before it lifted. Getting out too late was the same as not getting out at all…a front row seat to a 3 megaton blast.

  Taylor grabbed Gomez and threw the wounded corporal over his shoulder. At least he’s small, Taylor thought to himself. Jake was 2 meters tall, and he had at least 9 or 10 centimeters on the stricken non-com. He ignored Gomez’ howls of pain and ran forward on the heels of the other troopers.

  They rounded the corner just as the pursuing Machines began firing down the hall. “Turn left up ahead,” Taylor shouted. They were almost there, but they were running out of time. They weren’t going to make it.

  He turned the corner and felt the pain in his back, the sudden weakness in his legs. He’d been hit. Ignore it, he thought…nothing you can do about it now. He gritted his teeth, trying to run harder, to disregard the pain.

  He could see the light up ahead. It was late in the day, well into twilight, but even with only one sun in the sky, it was always bright on Erastus. “Move!” He screamed at the men in front. He knew they were tired and hurting, but they only had 30 seconds left. They ran down the last hallway and out into the bright sun of the valley. Taylor glanced at his chronometer and groaned. They were too late.

  But he could hear the engines of the transport, and he looked up, seeing its hulking form just ahead. “Run!” His legs were on fire, and back was sheer agony. He could feel the slickness, his blood flowing down his back, his legs. Every step was torture, but he kept moving, running hard. Gomez had lost consciousness, and Jake was having a hard time keeping a grip on him.

  He couldn’t understand why the transport was still there. The countdown clock was at 4:15 to detonation…they should have taken off 45 seconds before. He could see the shape of the Mustang getting larger as he approached. Gomez’ troops were reaching the open hatch of the hold, grabbing onto the outstretched hands of the men onboard.

  Taylor still couldn’t understand. He wasn’t surprised that Daniels was ignoring his order to leave them behind, but the transport crew would have taken off on the dot, and no arguments would have stopped them.

  Jake handed Gomez to the troops inside the hold and grabbed onto the handrails, pulling himself up. The strength wasn’t there, and he started to slide. Then he felt the hands grabbing him, hauling him up and in. As they pulled him up, he got a view through the open door into the cockpit. He saw the two man crew…and Hank Daniels holding his gun on them both.

  “OK…” Taylor shouted so loudly it wracked his stricken body with pain. “Let’s get the hell out of here!”

  Chapter 8

  From the Journal of Jake Taylor:

  Have you ever watched anyone die? I don’t mean a grandparent, old at the end of a long and happy life, lying in bed, surrounded by family. Have you ever seen a young person die violently, decades before nature intended?

  Have you looked into the eyes of a boy, barely a man, and witnessed the terror, the pain, the confusion? Seen the look in his eyes as he begs you to help, to save him? Listened to him cry for life, even as death was taking him? Stared down at your clothes, now stained with the life blood of a dead friend?

  I expected to die when I got to Erastus. My life wasn’t mine anymore anyway…I’d signed it away to save my family. UN Central owned it. If they wanted to
throw me into the burning sands of Gehenna to die, that was their decision.

  But I didn’t die. Battle after battle, I survived. I was wounded a few times, and thought I was done for more than once, but I’m still here. When I got to Erastus, the guys who’d been on-planet awhile took me under their wing. They taught me how to survive. They became good friends, all those guys. We fought together, lived together, watched each other’s backs.

  They’re dead now. All of them. Burying your friends is one of the rewards of surviving on Erastus. There’s a pain I can’t describe in watching a friend die…19 years old, 20, his body mutilated beyond recognition. The bond between men who fight alongside each other, who bleed together and man trenches and share the same slop to eat…it can’t be understood by someone who hasn’t experienced it. Those men were more than friends, more than brothers. And I watched every one of them die.

  But there’s a different pain too, the agony of watching these stupid, unprepared kids stumble out of the Portal, knowing almost 2/3 of them will be killed or wounded in their first battle. UNFE training is fairly comprehensive, but it is woefully inadequate to prepare young men for the reality of this hell world.

  The anguish is worse because I have lived so long. The good men who took me in didn’t fail me. They taught me what I needed to know. They kept me alive until I could survive on my own. When I watch a cherry die, I know I have failed him, as I myself was not failed. I have failed a bewildered, terrified kid who needed me. And I have failed the dead men who saved me and asked nothing more than that I pay forward for what they did.

  Why should I have survived so long when there are so many I cannot save? I thought fighting in hell was a terrible fate, but commanding there is worse. Watching men die, seeing the terrified looks in their cold, dead faces…it’s more horrible than anything the Machines can do to me. If they kill me, I’ll consider it a mercy. But if I have to look at one more dead kid, face transfixed in fear, in agony, I think I will lose my mind.

  Taylor sat quietly, watching the desert whip by as the Mustang raced along at 1,200 kph. He was strapped in, sitting alone in the cavernous hold of the otherwise empty transport. His back hurt like crazy, but Doc had cleared him for the flight. The round that struck him went right through his back and out the front without so much as nicking a vital organ. It took Doc about 30 minutes to patch everything up and fuse the wound closed. Jake would be sore for a couple weeks, and off combat duty, but he was more or less fine for normal activities.

  UNFE HQ was 3,500 klicks from Firebase Delta. Taylor knew the destruction of the enemy base was a major victory, but he’d never seen a transport dispatched such a distance to pick up one lieutenant…especially not one escorted by a Dragonfire gunship, like this one was.

  It had occurred to Jake they might give him a medal or some type of award. They loved giving out decorations…something for the cherries to look up to, another reason for them to throw their lives away heroically.

  Taking out the first Machine production facility on the planet was certainly a major win, and a crucial turning point in the war on Erastus. The first phase was over…from now on, it would no longer be a continuing fight just to hang on. The war had morphed into an ongoing effort to chip away at enemy strength until their defenses collapsed. It was too early to say the momentum had shifted entirely, but it was definitely a move in that direction.

  Taylor understood the implications, and he appreciated the tactical significance. But all he could think about was how many of his boys didn’t come back from the glorious victory. The thought of smiling while some asshole from UN Central did a drive by on Erastus to pin a piece of silver on his chest was more than he could stomach.

  The Jake Taylor who had just arrived through the Portal might have valued a shiny new medal. But the war weary lieutenant was repulsed by the idea of accepting a reward that was bought with the blood of his men. He had no choice, but there was no part of him left that wanted any of it. He wished he could go back to base to be with his shattered unit as the men mourned their dead. That was where he belonged.

  “We should be on the ground at HQ in about 20 minutes, Lieutenant Taylor.” The pilot’s tone was half-disinterested, half respectful. Antigrav jocks didn’t usually pay much attention to ground pounders. But Taylor was one of the heroes of the Battle of Shadow Valley, as they were calling it, and he rated a transport all to himself. That was worth a little respect. And the story of him running back into the facility to rescue his men – then getting wounded himself – was taking on the status of a legend. It irked the hell out of him, but there was nothing he could do to stop it.

  The air crews weren’t lifers like Jake and his people. That didn’t mean they weren’t real combat soldiers, though. Their loss rate didn’t equal the infantry’s, but no one would call their duties safe. But if they survived a tour of duty on Erastus, they’d go back to Earth. Jake and his brothers could only imagine a hope like that.

  Taylor picked up the small mic and flipped it on. “Thank you, Lieutenant.” He leaned back and mopped his forehead with a small cloth. The units on Erastus didn’t have dress uniforms or anything like that. There was just no need for them. But Jake was wearing his full duty uniform, not just light combat fatigues. He was getting some air from the small vents in the Mustang’s hold, but it was still damned hot, especially wearing the uniform’s high-collared jacket.

  He’d been surprised when he arrived on Erastus to find that virtually nothing was air-conditioned. Not the barracks, not the transports. Nothing. Even the infirmary was only moderately climate-controlled…better by a considerable margin than anywhere else, but still pretty hot.

  He was confused at first, but he came to understand. Adapting to the heat of Erastus was the most important thing a soldier could do to survive. Those who failed to do so, who became weak and fatigued on the battlefield…they were the first to die. The men of Erastus, especially the life-service infantrymen, had to make the inferno into their natural habitat. And popping in and out of comfortably air-conditioned areas was not at all conducive to effective acclimation.

  I wonder what headquarters is like, Jake thought idly. It had been five years since he’d felt truly cool air, and he wondered if HQ might have some to offer. He found himself hoping so, but when he thought about it a bit more, he decided it might be better not to be reminded of things that were lost to him.

  Jake watched the terrain passing below the transport. Firebase Delta was situated in the deep desert, an area so devoid of moisture, the time between rains was measured in years. The last measured precipitation had been before Taylor even arrived on-planet.

  He’d served in the jungles of Erastus too, a steaming hot equatorial belt, brutally humid and filled with venomous predators. It was the only area of Erastus with a significant number of lifeforms. The rest of planet was virtually lifeless, like the desert, or was home to a limited range of plant life, like the grass-covered polar plains he was now passing over.

  UN Command Headquarters was built near the center of the northern polar region, the closest thing Erastus had to a temperate area. The Portal from Earth was located very close to the planet’s north pole, and HQ had been built near the transit point. There were other advantages as well…the slightly more moderate temperatures were easier on the specialist troops and UN brass based at headquarters.

  “We’ll be landing in just a minute, Lieutenant Taylor.” Taylor could feel the antigrav turning slowly. He could see the flat paved area ahead. Most of HQ was subterranean; only the landing pads were above ground.

  The Mustang flew over one of the flat areas, and it gently descended in place as the antigrav generators slowly cut power, gradually restoring the effects of gravity. It was a soft landing…Taylor had to look outside to confirm they’d actually hit ground. He unstrapped himself and slowly stood up, wincing a bit as he did. It was time to see what the high command really wanted from him.

  Taylor walked into the room, removing his hat as he did. He was
distracted by an unfamiliar feeling as a wave of cool air rushed over him. He fought the urge to close his eyes and stand there savoring the blissful sensation. The crispness brought back a flood of memories, things he’d thought long-forgotten. For an instant, he was back in New Hampshire in autumn.

  He’d expected to meet with a middling-high level officer, a major, or even a colonel. Instead, he’d been advised that an assistant UN under-secretary named Kazan was waiting to see him. To almost anyone on Earth, such a creature was unimaginably lofty, a senior Admin and a powerful and respected member of the government. To a grunt on Erastus such a meeting was without precedent.

  “Greetings, Lieutenant Taylor. It is a great pleasure to finally meet you.” Gregor Kazan was extremely polite, but Taylor was immediately uncomfortable around him. His tone sounded sincere, at least on the surface. But there was something unsettling about him, something that made Jake suspicious.

  “I feel we have known each other for quite some time.” Kazan walked toward Jake, extending his hand.

  Taylor reached out and took Kazan’s proffered hand, a confused look on his face. “Welcome to Erastus, sir.” It was all Taylor could think to say. Then: “Known each other? Have we met before?”

  Kazan pointed to a small table with two chairs. “Please, Lieutenant, sit.” He turned and walked toward the table himself. “You have had a hard time of it these last few days, I’m afraid. Kazan stood and watched as Taylor walked over and pulled out a chair, slowly lowering himself into it. “And to answer your question, no, we have not met. But I have known of you for some time.”

  Kazan sat down, harder and less gracefully than Taylor had. He noticed Jake taking a deep breath. His eyes darted to the air vent and back. “Yes, Lieutenant, I am sure my air conditioning is quite a change for you. I’m afraid I would be quite unable to function without it.” He smiled. It was intended to make Taylor comfortable, but there was something odd about Kazan’s thin lips. The official had been nothing but flawlessly polite, but Jake just wanted to get out of there, air conditioning or no. Something about Kazan made him uncomfortable.