by Jay Allan
“I know we’ve had our differences, Colonel.” MacArthur’s voice had an odd tone to it, like the pilot was still trying to figure out exactly how he felt. “But what UN Central has done transcends any of that. We may have argued, but we were always on the same side…and we have all been used in the most horrendous manner.” There was heavy emotion just below the surface…MacArthur was barely restraining his anger. “I believed I was here defending Earth, just as you did. Do you know how many thousands of Machines my gunships have slaughtered?” He was staring plaintively, desperately looking to Taylor to make some sense of what he was feeling. Jake’s retelling of T’arza’s description of the Machines had hit MacArthur hard. He’d always considered them almost as robots, created solely to fight. Now he realized they were much closer to sentient beings than he could comfortably accept, that they’d been created to live something like a normal life and only turned into soldiers when mankind attacked their welcoming parties and started a war. “I was a soldier, Jake…” Taylor blinked in surprise as MacArthur used his first name. “…at least I thought I was. But I’m nothing but a mass murderer, am I? That’s what we all are.”
Taylor took a deep breath. He didn’t know what to say. He found himself wanting to reassure MacArthur, but he wasn’t sure his own opinion was all that different. It was easy to tell yourself you were misled, that you didn’t know what you were doing…but the blood on your hands was still there, and the thousands you massacred were still dead.
“John…” Taylor hesitated, still not sure what to say. “I don’t have any wisdom for you. We’re all going to have to learn to live with what we’ve done. One way or another.” Taylor looked down at his feet for a few seconds before meeting MacArthur’s gaze again. “But now isn’t the time to sink into remorse and self-pity. We can’t undo what we’ve done, and some crimes are beyond atonement.” Taylor’s gaze narrowed, and a firmness returned to his voice. “But we can avenge the dead…and punish the guilty. We can put a stop to this insanity before it drags on for decades on the other Portal Worlds. We can cleanse Earth. We were unwitting parties to this great crime, but not those back at UN Central. They knew…they did this intentionally. They are truly those who bear the monstrous guilt. If we allow them to escape judgment, we will compound what we have done. This is our mess to clean up.”
The anger was rising again in Taylor’s voice. It was never far below the surface anymore, a bubbling rage ready to escape at the slightest instigation. “That is my purpose now, John. Nothing else matters to me, and there is nothing I will not do to achieve what must be done.” His expression softened slightly as he gazed into MacArthur’s eyes. “And if you and your people are truly willing to join us, I for one, will be very grateful.”
MacArthur nodded his head slowly. He was silent for a moment, but his face looked calm, settled. “Like I said, Jake, I’m with you.” He paused briefly. “But it’s not just me. We’re all with you. My aircrews, the engineers, the transport teams. Everybody.” He extended his hand toward Taylor, even managing a thin smile. “Now let’s make the bastards pay.”
“Jake, you’re wrong this time.” There weren’t many people with the balls to tell Taylor to his face he was wrong, but Tony Black was one of them. “We’re better off spreading out, manning all the strong points. Make the bastards run all over, sweating their balls off trying to dig us out.” Black’s voice had a vindictive edge to it. Clearly, he relished the thought of unacclimated UN enforcers trying to assault strongholds under the burning Erastus suns. “The troops they send through are probably going to be inferior on a man for man basis, but you know they’re going to outnumber us. Probably by a lot. Why not let the planet wear them down as much as possible?”
Taylor sat quietly, listening to what his second in command had to say. Finally he waved for the short, stocky officer to take one of the seats next to him. He trusted Black’s judgment, and he knew there was sense in what his friend was saying. But Taylor had decided exactly what he wanted to do. His anger had cleared his mind, and his focus was razor sharp.
“You’re right, Blackie.” Taylor wiped the back of his neck with a small white towel as he spoke. They were down in the equatorial zone, gathering equipment and supplies from the garrisons moving north. Years in the desert had weakened his acclimation to the extreme humidity, and he was really feeling it. “Or at least you might be if I wanted to fight a conventional campaign. But that would take too long. Besides, if they were smart they’d just mask our strongpoints and wait us out. Our supplies are limited; theirs aren’t. Not if we hole up in our bases and give them unchallenged access to the Portal. If we let them pin us down we’re screwed.”
Black dropped hard into the chair, letting out a deep breath as he did. “OK, Jake.” There was partial capitulation in his voice. “Maybe you’re right…maybe we’d just end up besieged. But then why not defend the Portal, hit them as they emerge? Why let them come through and deploy? Do we need to give up all that advantage when we can be waiting just this side of the transit point and hit them as they come out?” Black wasn’t arguing with Taylor. He was genuinely questioning, his tone one of confusion, not debate.
“I don’t want to hold them back, Blackie.” There was a confidence and a coldness in Taylor’s voice that sent a chill down Black’s spine. He couldn’t tell if Jake was sure he was right, or if he just didn’t care enough about surviving to worry about it. “If we defend the Portal, we’ll bottle them up. They won’t get a fraction of their total force through.”
“Isn’t that the point?” Black sounded even more confused. “Doesn’t that give us an edge, balance out their numerical superiority?”
“Conventionally, yes.” Taylor’s voice was cold, analytical. “But I don’t want to defend against them, Blackie.” There was a short pause. “I want to annihilate them. I want to kill every soldier they muster to send here.” There wasn’t a shred of doubt as he spoke, just icy determination. “If we hold the line at the Portal, the fighting will drag on forever. But there’s a limit to the force they can put together on short notice, and the arrogant bastards will send it all through at once if we let them…I’m sure of it.” Taylor paused for a few seconds. “I intend to let them transit every man they can assemble. Once they’re all through, we’ll retake the Portal and cut them off.” Taylor looked right into Black’s eyes as he spoke. “Because I’m going to let them in…” His words were pure venom. “…but not one of them is getting out.”
Chapter 23
From the Journal of Jake Taylor:
I thought I hated the Machines. I despised them for what I believed they had done, and for more than a decade I gleefully gunned them down. I don’t know how many I personally killed, but it must have been dozens…if not hundreds. And the men I led killed thousands, tens of thousands. Whatever else I felt, whatever questions I had about UN Central and the way my men and I were treated, my anger for the Tegeri and their bio-mechanical soldiers always flared hot.
I thought I hated them…until I experienced true hatred. Alien creatures, served up by Earth’s best propagandists, reach down into a dark place inside us all, stirring up anger, fear, righteous indignation. But it is human monsters who have tapped into the true veins of boiling, surging, molten rage deep inside me. Traitors who betrayed their own people and massacred thousands of innocents…all so they could enslave the rest of mankind.
Now the real battle is about to begin, the fight against the hideous evil that rules mankind. They turned my men into cyborgs, soulless killing machines to serve their own purposes. Now they will taste irony as that force is turned upon them. My soldiers shall be avenging angels, cleansing the universe of their filth.
I am ready. I am anxious, almost gleeful at the chance to destroy these soldiers my enemies have sent to murder my people. I feel the rage day and night, making my body shake with such force it is all I can do to hold myself still. Now I know what real fury is. Anger so profound, so primal, it scares me to my core. I don’t know who or
what I am anymore. I feel as though my soul has been possessed…consumed…by some force, some demon. The hate I felt for the Tegeri served me, it gave me strength in my fight, drove me on. But it is I who serve this hatred, this terrifying lust for vengeance. It is the master, I the willing slave.
Am I sane? I don’t know. But I am sure of one thing. I don’t care.
John MacArthur lurched hard to the side as his Dragonfire gunship loosed two Ripper air-to-air missiles. The sleek weapons zipped over the scrubby hills below, homing in on the light fighter he’d spotted. They swung wide, each looping around and approaching the target from a different side. The fighter pilot banked hard, trying to evade the fiery death zooming in on him. He zigzagged past one of the missiles, a temporary respite, as the Ripper arced around to make a second pass. His efforts were in vain anyway. The second missile slammed right into his small craft, practically vaporizing it.
“All ships, shout out those sightings as soon as you have them.” MacArthur’s birds were deployed on combat air patrol around the Portal. The UN forces had been pouring through for two days. They outnumbered the Erastus forces 3-1, and they were still coming. On the ground, Taylor had positioned only light forces near the transit point…snipers and small, fast-moving teams. He didn’t want to stop the enemy’s advance, or even seriously hinder it. He was just looking to pick off as many as he could, and put up a show of some sort of defense. Enough, at least, not to arouse any suspicion that might instill caution in whoever was commanding the UN force.
The air battle was a different story. Taylor wanted all those invading ground troops to transit onto Erastus, where he could engage and destroy them. But he was determined to keep the enemy air power contained, and prevent as much of it from transiting as possible. He had the Dragonfires patrolling in shifts, keeping constant pressure on anything that flew through the Portal. He’d suspected the UN force wouldn’t anticipate the Erastus air units would have rallied to him, and he turned out to be right. The waiting squadrons had quite an element of surprise.
The enemy air units MacArthur’s people were battling were lighter…small antigrav fighters that were no match for the massive Dragonfires. Gunships and other heavy craft had to be brought through in pieces and assembled on planet, and MacArthur and his birds were keeping the transit zone way too hot for anything like that to succeed. Taylor didn’t know how much airpower UN Central would be able to muster on short notice, but he was determined to keep most of it pinned back behind the Portal.
“I’ve got two bogies just through. They’re climbing hard.” It was Lieutenant Stewart, skipper of Condor 06. A good pilot, and probably the best spotter in MacArthur’s entire force.
“Condor 01 and Condor 02, move to support Condor 06.” MacArthur snapped the orders into the com. He didn’t want those enemy birds slipping through. The fight around the transit point was different than any air battle he’d ever seen. The immense energy pumped through the Portal to sustain matter transmission gave off extensive interference, rendering normal detection equipment inoperative. Even old-fashioned radar was useless. The only thing that worked was eyeballing targets, and that meant getting a lot closer than normal.
“Bogie one intercepted.” It was Condor 06 again. Stewart got the first one himself.
MacArthur was happy with his crews. They weren’t used to fighting almost blind, but so far not an enemy antigrav made it past them. And he was determined to keep it that way.
“Bogie two down.” Stewart again. His bird had gotten both kills before the support even got there.
MacArthur smiled.
“The resistance we have encountered is extremely light, Mr. Kazan.” Laurence Graves was an imposing figure, at least 10 centimeters taller and 20 kilos heavier than Kazan. “The enemy antigravs have been attacking our fighters and supply shipments incessantly, but we have faced minimal ground forces so far.”
Kazan stood outside his command vehicle, sweat pouring down his cheeks. There was an angry scowl on his face, a mask of arrogance he wore to cover his fear and insecurity. He had absolute power over the forces invading Erastus, but he had no illusions about what he faced back home if he returned with anything short of total success.
“They are a rabble, Colonel Graves.” Despite his position in the Department of Military Affairs, Kazan understood remarkably little of the realities of war. “Your forces should have no difficulty sweeping them from the field.”
Graves was uncomfortably silent for a moment. His career had been spent putting down protests and riots, not fighting veteran armies. He wasn’t sure what to expect from these Erastus soldiers, but he suspected they were going to be a lot tougher than Kazan suggested. These weren’t civilians armed with clubs and knives, rioting for food…they were seasoned soldiers defending a battlefield familiar to them and unrelentingly hostile to his own troops.
“Sir…” Graves had enough experience dealing with government officials to know he had to tread carefully with an arrogant ass like Kazan. “…I strongly advise caution, at least until we can get a good idea of what we face. We don’t want…”
“What we face are criminals, Colonel.” Kazan interrupted, his voice heavy with arrogance. “Nothing more. And we will not delay any further.”
“Secretary Kazan…” Under-Secretary was a cumbersome title to keep repeating, and Graves figured the informal courtesy promotion would only stroke the vain fool’s ego. “…I remind you that we did not expect the air units to rally to the rebel forces.” He paused for an instant. “Yet, it appears they have, and in significant numbers.” He could tell he wasn’t getting anywhere with Kazan, but he wasn’t ready to give up yet. “Do we know if the engineers have also joined this Colonel Taylor and his troops?” Graves paused, but Kazan just stared at him. “Sir, I am only suggesting that we hold some units in reserve back on the Earth side of the Portal. Just to be cautious.”
“I want the entire force together, Colonel. That means every man is to transit as quickly as possible.” Kazan’s voice was all bravado, but beneath there was a shakiness he was trying to hide. He wasn’t sure if Graves’ concerns were reasonable, but he did know that he was under considerable pressure to produce results on Erastus. Quickly. If he moved slowly, if no progress reports made it back to UN Central, it was only a matter of time before Keita – and Samovich – lost what little patience they had. That would be a bad day for Kazan…he was sure of that.
He turned toward Graves and stared at the colonel intently. “As quickly as possible. Do we understand each other, Colonel?”
“They’re pulling back, sir. We’ve secured the western half of the headquarters complex.” Captain Shinto was excited, but all his parched throat could manage was a hoarse croak. The heat on Erastus was like nothing he’d ever experienced. At least half his troops were down with hyperthermia, and the rest were barely effective. He’d expected to encounter a significant enemy force defending the HQ complex, but there couldn’t have been 200 in total, and most of those pulled back after a nasty firefight.
“Very well, Captain.” Colonel Graves’ voice was crisp and clear, but then he was in a climate controlled command vehicle while Shinto and his people were out in the blazing sun. “You are to push on and take the remainder of the complex.”
Shinto almost groaned out loud. He’d started his assault with 1,100 troops, but he doubted there were more than 300 left standing. Most of his losses were from the heat, but the Erastus forces had taken down at least 200 of his men before they pulled back. He had no idea how many casualties his forces had inflicted, but he was sure it was a lot fewer.
He’d never seen anything like these Erastus soldiers. They ran far faster than his troops, and they did it at high noon under the blazing light of both suns. Their aim was uncanny, and they functioned together with inexplicable fluidity. There was no way his people were going to be able to clear the rest of the objective.
“Colonel Graves, sir, I must advise you that my forces have almost no chance of completing you
r orders.” He was nervous, trying to speak with as much false confidence as he could muster. Officers in the UN Internal Security forces didn’t prosper by questioning the orders of superiors…especially in the elite paramilitary units.
“There is no alternative, Captain.” Graves wasn’t angry. Shinto was just telling him the truth. But Kazan was on the com every twenty minutes, pushing for faster progress. Graves was starting to get pissed about being pushed so hard to pull the bureaucrat’s ass out of the fire, but there was nothing he could do about it. “Launch the assault immediately.” Graves took a short breath, running through his OB quickly in his mind. “I’m sending you Lieutenant Garcia and his men as reinforcements. That’s another 550 troops, Shinto…don’t you ask me for any more. That’s all you’re getting. Now, just take the rest of the objective.”
“Yes, sir.” Shinto’s voice was still tense, but there was relief there too at the prospect of support. “I will launch the attack in ten minutes.”
“Very well.” Graves cut the line.
Shinto activated the unit-wide com. “Attention, all personnel. We will be advancing in ten minutes.” He could practically here the groans among his exhausted troops. “We have reinforcements incoming to support the assault.” He had no obligation to let the men know, but he figured it would help morale.
He walked up to the edge of the trench, peering out cautiously at the enemy-occupied buildings on the eastern edge of the compound. What, he wondered…what is waiting over there?
Carson Jones lay perfectly still, his cybernetic eyes fixed on the jagged edge of the enemy trench. He’d been stalking his target for over an hour. An enemy officer, the one commanding the whole attack in this sector. He was confident about his ID on the target, but the bastard hadn’t shown himself enough to give a good shot. Jones was more than four klicks away. He could make the kill, but he needed a decent opening.
