by Jay Allan
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 turn 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.
“I’ve got the 213th and the 173rd dug in on the heights.” Black was out of breath. He’d positioned the two strikeforces himself; then he’d run back the 3 klicks to HQ.
“Well done, Blackie.” Taylor’s voice betrayed an odd combination of emotions…determination, anger, confidence. He was fighting hard to keep his other feelings hidden. For all the anger and bravado about destroying any who stood in his way, Taylor dreaded firing on other units from Erastus. It was one thing to call for a crusade, to declare all who oppose you as enemy…but these were his brothers in arms. They had suffered the same injustice he had…their only difference from him was ignorance about what had been done to them. They were only here following orders, and they had no reason to doubt those commands. He was about to start a civil war…soon his soldiers would be killing men they’d fought beside. He was about to set brother against brother.
Taylor looked out over the terrain and sighed. He didn’t fear defeat…he was certain he could win this fight. He’d set a trap, one he was sure would work. The approaching force was commanded by Major Simms. Taylor knew Simms well. He was a moderately capable officer, but nothing more, and he’d been promoted beyond his natural competency level. At best he would effectively, but unimaginably, manage his forces. But his chances of defeating a tactician of Taylor’s ability were nil. Still, he was a good man, and Taylor was sick at the prospect of having to destroy him…and all the men serving with him.
“Jake, they’re coming through the valley, just like you said they would.” Young’s voice was a little tense but, compared to his norm, it was downright calm. Like every soldier on Erastus, Young had been forced into the army. More than any of the inner circle other than Taylor, Young also wanted vengeance. He didn’t relish the idea of fighting other Erastus units any more than Jake, but if they chose to stand with UN Central, Frantic was ready to send them all to hell. “I’ve got two drones up. Looks like 3 battalions…maybe 3,200 total strength.”
“Thanks, Frantic.” Taylor was having trouble keeping the lingering sadness out of his voice. “Keep me posted as you get new data.” He wouldn’t get much more info, Taylor thought…those 2 drones won’t last. His forces had to preserve their equipment, at least until they found some source of resupply. So, unless something unexpected happened when the battle started, there weren’t going to be any more drone launches.
Taylor stood silently for a few minutes, staring out in the direction of the approaching enemy. He couldn’t see them yet, but it wouldn’t be long. His own people were dug into a makeshift trenchline…all except the ambushing force up on the hills. He’d considered marching out of his defensive zone to begin the pacification of Erastus, but he knew UN Central would go ballistic at his rebellion, and he decided to take advantage of the predictability of their response. As expected, they’d thrown the first force they could assemble at him prematurely. He was anxious to get the war for Erastus over, but he wasn’t about to interrupt when his enemy was making a mistake.
He started walking forward. “I’m going up to the line, Blackie. I want to get a closer look.”
“Jake, this rebellion is over if we lose you. You know that.”
“I’ll be careful.” Taylor was lying. He had something in mind, a bold move that was anything but safe. He’d rejected it when it first came to his mind, but the closer he got to having to start shooting at fellow-Erastus men, the better an idea it seemed. Now he’d decided. If it worked, he’d save thousands of lives and advance the cause. If it didn’t, he’d be dead in half an hour.
Taylor peered over the trench. Here they come, he thought…it could be a diagram from the training manual. Major Simms didn’t disappoint. His men were perfectly – and predictably – arrayed for an attack. They were going to march right into the ambush Taylor had set for them. And they were going to get massacre
d.
“Jake…” It was Blackie on the com. “…Lieutenant Davison is asking if he should commence fire.” Davison commanded the heavy mortars…and the enemy was starting to move into effective range.
Taylor was silent, staring out at the approaching forces. He closed his eyes tightly, longing to shed the tears he was no longer able to produce. He’d been grappling with a choice. Should he give the orders…and watch his men slaughter their old brothers in arms? No…he’d decided on another option.
“Negative, Blackie.” Taylor’s response was tentative, uncertain. “Tell him to hold fire. All units are to hold fire until I order otherwise.”
“Jake?” Blackie sounded confused. He was going to argue, but he just sighed and replied, “Yes, sir.”
Taylor stared out for another few minutes. It’s now or never, he thought…Simms’ people will start firing any second. “Once it starts, I’ll never stop it,” he whispered to himself.
He directed a thought to his implanted com, opening a channel to Major Simms. The com units were hardwired to link with each other, and neither side was able to shut out the other’s communications. “Don, this is Jake Taylor. Are you reading me?”
He climbed up over the trench, the soldiers around him watching in horror as he stood straight up and started walking toward the enemy. Taylor’s heart was pounding, but he kept his pace steady. To any onlooker, he was as calm as a man out for a pleasant stroll.
“I read you, Colonel.” There was suspicion in Simms’ voice, but curiosity too. “What do you want? Hurry it up. My orders are clear.”
Taylor felt like a card player, shoving all his chips into the center of the table. He didn’t know if he had a good hand or if this was a bluff, but he was damned sure it was the biggest gamble of his life.
Now, he thought…directing his com to expand the channel to every soldier present, on both sides. “We are not enemies, Major.” Taylor’s voice was firm, but friendly. “There is no reason for us to fight each other…today or any other day.” He kept walking forward as he spoke. He was 50 meters ahead of his line now. Blackie was calling frantically on the com, but Taylor ignored it, remaining on the open line.
“Colonel Taylor, this is pointless. As I said, my orders are clear. Unless you are planning to surrender yourself along with your entire force, we have nothing to discuss.” Simms didn’t realize at first that Taylor was broadcasting to his entire army. “What is this, Taylor?” There was anger in Simms’ voice now. “If you wish to communicate you will do so with me and me alone. Is that understood?”
“What I have to say is for every man here.” Taylor’s tone remained calm, friendly. He refused to take any bait…losing his temper would be disastrous now. “Many of you know me, have served under me. And the rest of you are familiar with me…with my reputation.” Jake paused, taking a deep breath, trying to stay cool as he continued walking forward.
“I am no traitor. Certainly not to anyone on this battlefield today.”
“Colonel Taylor…this is pointless. We have our…”
“Major Simms, allow me to finish. I am walking alone toward your lines. If what I say does not convince you, I will be exposed to your forces. You can end this fight before it begins.”
Taylor was almost 200 meters from his own troops, and moving into effective assault rifle range of the opposing forces. He was making himself a sitting duck, risking all to make his entreaty.
“I did not take the actions I did for no reason. My officers and the men facing you here today did not take the actions they did for no reason.” Taylor took a deep breath. OK, he thought, here goes.
“I was recently captured by the Tegeri.” He continued to step forward, moving well into firing range now. He slowly slid his rifle off his back and let it fall to the ground. “I discovered something terrible…something that changes everything.”
“Colonel, that’s enough.” Simms was getting annoyed, that much was obvious from his voice. “None of this has any bearing on why we are here. Now, are you going to surrend…”
“To the contrary, Major, it has tremendous bearing, and it is something everyone here must know before deciding how to proceed. But first, I will demonstrate my sincerity.”
Taylor paused again. “Attention 213th and 173rd Strikeforces. Every man is to fire five shots straight up at the sky. Now!” There was a short pause before the fire started. It was sporadic, increasing with each second before peaking and tailing off. The whole thing took ten, perhaps twelve seconds.
“You all know what your orders were. Your entire force was going to assault my trench line…and you would have been attacked on the flank by those hidden strike forces.” Taylor was practically screaming now. He’d gone all in, and he was working it with everything he had. “You would have been defeated, destroyed. You all know this now. I could have won this battle…but I sacrificed my advantage. I have done this to prove my sincerity to all of you. Because I did not want to harm any of you.”
Taylor kept moving forward. He could make out individual soldiers now. A thousand assault rifles were aimed in his direction. He felt a shiver in his body as he took each step. All it would take was one soldier…one shot could end Taylor’s rebellion before it even started. Keep going, he thought, forcing his feet forward.
“The Tegeri and the Machines did not attack the first colonies, as all of you were told.” He shouted as loudly as his strained voice could manage. “It was a UN force that destroyed the settlements. It was done to create a crisis…one that would compel the remaining nations to yield to UN Central’s control.”
Taylor’s hand moved to his neck, fingering the talisman T’arza had given him. He touched it as he spoke. “I will…”
“This is enough, Colonel.” Simms was angry, though Taylor could hear the uncertainty in his voice as well. “This is my last warning. Surrender now.”
Taylor pressed the button on the talisman. “See for yourself…this was given to me by the Tegeri, who then departed from this world as they promised me they would.” The images appeared behind him, the same ones he had seen in T’arza’s lair…the ones he’d shown his own people. The image expanded, towered 30 meter over Taylor’s head…scenes of murder and destruction, carried out not by Machines or Tegeri…but by other humans.
“This is what truly happened to the first colonies.” There was silence, save for Taylor’s voice, every eye riveted to the video projected behind him. “These soldiers you see are pre-Consolidation UN special forces…troops the Tegeri should never have seen. This war is a terrible fraud…a lie perpetrated by a small group of people so they could make themselves rulers over us all.”
Taylor stared out at the entrenched forces deployed before him, eyes still focused on the graphic images behind. “It is corruption, deceit…murder. Your brothers who poured their lifeblood into the sands of Erastus, your families left behind, the thousands of men who will follow us through the Portals to their deaths…all for lies. For the base greed and lust for power of those who would be our masters.”
Now, Taylor thought…make your play. “It must stop! This unholy evil must be destroyed.” He was shouting into the com, struggling to keep him voice firm, confident. “My forces have sacrificed their surprise, their guarantee of victory because you are all our brothers.” He took a deep breath and balled his fists in a mighty scream. “Join us, my brothers. Stand up with me, with all of us…” He held his arms outstretched, gesturing toward the forces deployed before him. “You are our brothers, all of you. You have shared hell with us, and now we will march out together.”
Taylor took a few steps forward, flipping the latches on his armor and letting his breastplate and exos fall to the ground. “Join us!” He held his arms out, exposing his unarmored chest. “Or shoot me now…kill your brother and serve those who have made you slaves.”
Taylor stood stone still, staring at the helmets peering out over the trenches in front of him. There wasn’t a sound…nothing. All Taylor could think about was Black
ie going crazy back at the command post.
The silence continued, seconds feeling like hours. Then he heard it…a scream, and the glimpse of an assault rifle flying through the air as a single soldier climbed up over the trench and ran toward Taylor. The whole thing was surreal, slow motion. Taylor was transfixed on the solitary figure moving toward him. Then, slowly, another…and another. Then hundreds…a tumultuous surging mass running toward him, cheering, screaming. “Taylor…Taylor…Taylor!”
Chapter 21
From the Journal of Jake Taylor:
I hated the Tegeri…at least I thought I did. They had attacked us for no reason, murdered my people in cold blood. Destroying them was a cleansing, the one thing that made my consignment to hell bearable. Until my encounter with T’arza, my hatred was resolute. Whatever gripes I had against UN Central were subordinated to the crusade against the alien enemy.
Still, now that I look back, I realize there was always a sliver of doubt. They are aliens, I told myself in my most introspective moments…their perceptions are different from ours. Perhaps we unknowingly offended them. Could we have destroyed sacred religious sites or hidden nesting grounds? They had been there before us, after all. How would humans have reacted if an alien raced swarmed onto worlds they had long occupied? Could there be a reason for the hostility, one more justifiable than pure xenocide?
Such meanderings tended to end abruptly for me, usually accompanied by the scenes of dying colonists. No, I would say to myself. There is nothing that could justify what they did. Nothing. And yet that tiny doubt remained, surfacing again every so often.
Now I know it was all a lie, that the Tegeri were blameless. In their place I have a new enemy to hate…and for them there is no doubt, however small. The men who ordered the deaths of the colonists – who lied to the world and sent me and thousands like me here to fight and die on an alien hell far from home – there is no misunderstanding about them. They are human monsters, hideous creatures devoid of morality. They crave only power and dominion over others. No lie, no atrocity, is too much for them to employ in their foul and base schemes.
