by Jay Allan
Taylor forced a smile. He knew this might be the last time he spent with these three good friends. Tomorrow, Karl Young would lead the vanguard through the Portal. And the others would follow. They would be scattered, possibly around the world…and some of them, all of them, could die in battle. So if this was to be the last night, he was determined to make it one worthy of the designation.
“I will start,” he said, scooping up his glass from the table and taking a deep drink. “Do you guys remember that skinny little corporal from the 207th? You know, the one who thought he was such a good card player…”
Chapter 3
From the Office of the Secretary-General:
It is hereby ORDERED that All UNGov internal security units undergo a program of supplemental military training, commencing immediately. Each unit will detach one-half its strength to its designated training facility within 72 hours. The program will take six weeks, after which the remaining half of each unit will report.
All units are further advised that no relaxation in internal security objectives and standards will be tolerated, and personnel remaining on duty will be held fully accountable for any lapses that occur. Security staff should be prepared for extended work periods and suspension of all leaves.
This action is deemed necessary in the interests of planetary security, and all UNGov personnel are expected to make whatever efforts are necessary to maintain order and stability planetwide. –Anton Samovich, Secretary-General, UNGov.
Anton Samovich stared out the floor-to-ceiling windows of his massive office. The view from the top of UNGov’s kilometer-high headquarters was magnificent, and Samovich could look out north, over the sparkling blue of the lake or southeast, to the snow peaked magnificence of Mont Blanc. But the Secretary-General, the most powerful man in the world saw none of it. His vision was directed inward, his thoughts not on Earth’s capital nor the beauty and splendor of its surroundings. Earth’s effective ruler saw other images, blasted deserts crisscrossed with trenches, thick sweltering jungles with massive trees and strange, alien-looking vines. He saw the Portal worlds men had discovered, and the armies UNGov had sent to each of them. But now many of those armies weren’t fighting the Machine enemy. No, they were on the march, moving steadily through the Portals, one world at a time…back to Earth. And at their head was a single man, a soldier with metallic gray eyes and an old, worn uniform.
Jake Taylor. The name had become a curse to Samovich. Taylor had somehow taken control of UN Force Erastus, and then he defeated the army the Secretariat had sent to destroy him, a force that outnumbered his own by three to one. Fifty thousand men had marched through the Portal to Erastus…and not one had returned. Not a single survivor, not even a message.
It had been months before the Secretariat managed to gather a new force large enough to send to Erastus, and when they arrived on that sunbaked world they found nothing…nothing save debris and the burnt out remains of Taylor’s abandoned camp. His army was gone. They had marched through some other Portal, one unknown to the UN forces. That had been four years before…and Taylor’s army was still at large, somewhere out there, on an unknown Portal world. His people had invaded half a dozen other planets, rallying the conscripts of the local forces to their side…and defeating any who opposed them. Even the Black Corps, the invincible army UNGov had sent to destroy Taylor’s rebels on the planet Juno.
Samovich reached into his desk and pulled out a small canister, tipping it over and dumping two pills in his hand. His stomach was on fire, the constant stress turning his indigestion into a swirling vortex of pain. He popped the pills in his mouth, washing them down with a gulp of water.
He leaned back and closed his eyes, feeling relief almost immediately. The drug was attuned to his own DNA, a customized treatment that had been created by the Secretariat’s medical staff after he’d complained of the ineffectiveness of the other drugs they’d prescribed. The cost had been astronomical no doubt, but the notion that millions of creds shouldn’t be squandered treating the heartburn of one man while most of the people in the world received grossly inadequate medical care was utterly lost on him. Samovich had clawed his way to the pinnacle of the government, and while he was once focused on the power and privilege rank would give him, now he simply considered it his due. As for those dying in ghettoes and decaying towns and suburbs…he rarely gave them any thought at all, save perhaps how to keep them in line and suppress any riots or protests that occurred from time to time.
“Taylor,” he whispered under his breath, his tone dripping with hatred. Samovich had no tolerance for rebels. In his view, the government was to be obeyed. He and his fellow officials certainly knew better how to run the world than the seething masses, and their constant whining over rations and housing and medical care. If only they would accept their place in the scheme of things, so many resources would be freed for more productive pursuits.
For decades his internal security forces had pursued just that goal, rooting out groups opposing the government…and sending their members to the “reeducation camps,” where most of them were terminated as “hopeless” cases. But still, dissent had refused to die, and now, after forty years, the threat of alien invasion, for so long a shadow UNGov used to keep the people in line, was losing its potency. The wars still went on, but after so many years, the belief that the monstrous Tegeri were on the verge of bursting through the Portals slaughtering—and in the most shamelessly excessive UN propaganda, eating—people wherever they went had faded. Fear was a powerful weapon, indeed it was the tool the original Secretariat had used to gain world domination. But now that had faded. The Tegeri were still thought of as bloodthirsty aliens, but most people considered the threat contained, a position supported by UNGov’s own propaganda touting its successes in chasing the enemy from numerous Portal worlds.
Had he not had greater concerns, Samovich suspected he would be spending most of his time cracking down on cells of resistance and the proto-rebel groups he knew were forming all around the world. But he had more pressing matters. Jake Taylor was more than just a rebel, more than some insurgent plotting impotently in a dark hole somewhere. He was a trained warrior, an experienced officer…and a Supersoldier, a cyborg created by UNGov itself. He had defeated every force sent against him, including the Black Corps, a unit composed of cybernetically-enhanced soldiers like himself. The few reports trickling back suggested that many men of the UN planetary armies had defected to his cause, replacing his losses and swelling his ranks.
And worse, Samovich knew, it appeared that the Tegeri were helping Taylor. Indeed, that was almost a certainty. How else could the rogue have kept his army supplied and replaced the ordnance they had expended in battle? That connection spelled trouble, not only because it gave Taylor a supply source, but also because the Tegeri weren’t truly the monsters UNGov had made them out to be. Samovich was party to the dark secret, one few people on Earth knew. UNGov had orchestrated the war with the Tegeri, even going so far as to kill their own operatives who had actually conducted the assaults the aliens were blamed for. Anything to keep the secret. The Tegeri lie was incredibly useful propaganda. The truth, should it ever get out, would light a match on the fuse of rebellion. The secret had to be preserved…at all costs. But Samovich suspected Taylor’s army knew the truth, from the mysterious commander himself down to the lowliest private.
How can we keep the secret? How?
“No,” he said softly to himself. “There is no way.” He breathed deeply as he attacked the problem, trying to decide on his best strategy to counter Taylor. Training the security forces was a step…defeating Taylor’s army, killing his traitorous followers, that was certainly necessary. But crushing the invaders when they finally came would be only a partial solution. He’d never manage to destroy Taylor, to chase down all of his followers, even the scattered survivors who fled the battlefield…not before the word spread. Samovich knew Taylor would do everything possible to tell the people of Earth the truth, to rally th
em to his cause. And that could cause disaster, even after Taylor himself was dead.
Samovich got up and walked over to the window wall behind his massive desk, a small smile slipping on his face as he did. He stared out over the magnificent vista, for the first time in days taking a moment to appreciate what was laid out before him. Forty years of rule by UNGov had made Geneva and its environs the capital of the world, and the Secretariat members who ruled the planet had turned their enclave into a virtual paradise. If there were slums in other areas of the world, if once-great cities had deteriorated into ghastly nightmares where those with no place else to go picked through the ruins and tried to survive, them men and women entrusted to rule—and protect—Earth had little concern for any of it. They lived in luxury that shamed dukes and kings of old.
Protect, Samovich thought, as his smile grew. Of course. That is the answer. The same answer they came to forty years ago…
He suddenly knew what he had to do to defeat Taylor, and he cursed himself for not realizing it sooner. The answer was the same as it always was, as it had been decades past when UNGov had become the sole government on Earth.
They are the same gullible sheep they’ve always been. I had forgotten the lesson taught us by the original Secretariat.
He would devote whatever resources it took to defeat Taylor in the field, to hunt down and kill every last man who followed him. But even before that he would launch a full scale propaganda war, one that would turn all humanity against the rebel commander. Jake Taylor, the tool of the Tegeri, the man who slaughtered his fellow soldiers. The human being the Tegeri had suborned when they were incapable of defeating UNGov in the field. Images were racing through his mind, lies after lies…the things he would see repeated a million times, until the name Jake Taylor was synonymous with treachery, with evil. Taylor, the man who’d agreed to provide millions of humans as slaves, even as food sources for the Tegeri young…all in exchange for the aliens’ assistance in making him mankind’s absolute ruler.
Samovich felt a wave of excitement. Yes, this was the answer. It was the way. He’d already set the wheels in motion to prepare his forces to fight Taylor’s army. Now it was time to begin another war, one fought with words and broadcasts and information networks. It was a struggle he was uniquely prepared to fight. And win.
* * *
“Something is definitely going on. I don’t know what, but there have been too many sudden changes. They’re up to something for sure.” Carson Jones stood in the middle of the small circle, turning as he spoke to look at his companions in the flickering light of a dozen candles.
The meeting was in the basement of an abandoned building, a damp, musty space with a low-hanging ceiling of half-rotten wood. Jones was tall enough that he had to crouch, and he’d banged his head twice already. It was far from an ideal meeting place, but UNGov’s intelligence agencies were extremely efficient, and more than willing to dangle large sums in front of desperately poor citizens to coax them to inform on those around them. Jones wanted to hate people who took government payoffs, who helped to send their neighbors to the reeducation camps. But he knew deprivation wore down a person’s strength and their morality. Most people would do things they were ashamed of to put food in their children’s stomachs, and Carson Jones didn’t feel completely comfortable condemning them out of hand.
The Resistance had been close to wiped out over the nearly forty years of UNGov rule. Jones had known calling the meeting was a huge risk, but if there was an opportunity, a chance to launch a truly credible challenge to the Earth’s totalitarian rulers, he knew they had to take it. He’d almost sent out the signal, the call to other cells worldwide. But he didn’t know enough yet to take such a dangerous step.
“Well, they’ve definitely increased troop recruitment quotas. They’re blackmailing everybody under thirty who gets in any petty trouble or falls a credit behind on their taxes to enlist. I’ve also heard that they’ve been expanding the training camps, increasing their capacity to handle the increased flow of recruits.” Enrique Delacorte was sitting on an old crate, one that looked a bit wobbly but so far had held him up. Delacorte was a precious resource to the Resistance, a UNGov employee. He wasn’t privy to any secrets, just part of the cleanup crew, but any government job was far more lucrative than work anything in the private sector, and Delacorte had every reason to support UNGov, save for one thing. He detested the oppression, the complete lack of freedom, though he’d never known anything else.
He was thirty years old, and UNGov had ruled the world since before he was born. But then he’d found a stash of old books, history texts, mostly, all of them on the banned list. He’d almost panicked when he found them, unsure if he should run or if he should turn them in, and possibly risk suspicion that they were his. But instead he opened one up and read a few pages. Then he flipped through another…and another. The books were full of lies…that’s what UNGov’s propaganda said. But something rang true as he read, and it prompted him to continue. He took the books and found a new hiding place. One at a time, he snuck them home, reading every word five times before he went back to get another.
What he learned shocked him profoundly. He read of a world where people chose their jobs, where they went about their business more or less as they chose…where they could move about the streets without papers, travel without a special approval. A place where the population elected leaders…where the people voted, not just a small group like the Secretariat, but everyone.
He’d heard of such things before, when he was young and mostly from older people, the ones who’d been adults before the Tegeri attacked and UNGov took control. But such talk was forbidden, and people learned to keep their mouths shut…or they vanished in the night, taken to reeducation camps for “reorientation.”
“Are you sure, Enrique? About the quotas?” Jones’ words shook Delacorte from his daydreams.
“Ah…yes, Carson. I’m sure. It’s all classified, but they act like I’m not even there when I’m cleaning. I suspect if anyone high up in Intelligence saw how careless they are he’d have a fit.
Jones nodded. “So what does that mean? Maybe the Tegeri are winning the war.” UNGov broadcast a steady diet of news reports profiling military heroes and great victories pushing the Tegeri and Machines steadily back. But Jones didn’t believe a word UNGov said or published.
He stared down at the floor for a few seconds. “If that’s the case, perhaps there is nothing we can do now. UNGov is evil, but if the war is going badly…”
“That’s not it.”
Jones turned, along with everyone in the room, looking at the shadowy figure carefully climbing down the rickety stairs. Devon Bell was the newest member of the cell. He’d been excluded for a long time, mostly because no one else had trusted him. Bell was a UNGov employee just like Delacorte, but he was ranked considerably higher. He was a genuine beneficiary of the largess UNGov showered on its own, and he lived in the gated sector, in a home none of the others could even imagine.
He’d insisted he sincerely wanted to help overthrown UNGov, but none of the others, scared to death that he seemed to know who they were, believed him. Not until he told them the identity of a genuine double agent who was on the verge of infiltrating their cell. His warning got them out just in time…and it got him a long awaited invitation to join the group. There were those who still didn’t trust him, who thought he was just infiltrating, hoping to identity some of the other cells the group dealt with…but Jones had decided to trust him. And Bell had never given him cause for regret.
“Devon…how do you know that?”
Bell stepped into the dank cellar. “Sorry I’m late, by the way. I didn’t want to take any chances, and I had a hard time getting away.” He looked over at Jones. “I know because no reinforcements have been sent to any Portal world. Not in over a year.”
The room fell silent, save for the occasional sound of rats scurrying across the floor above. Finally, Jones spoke. “Are you certain about th
is?” He looked around the room, and he could see the expressions of his comrades. Clearly, some of them doubted Bell’s report.
“Yes, Carson. I’m absolutely sure.” Bell paused, everyone in the room staring back at him. “You—all of you—know I have…access…to UNGov’s information systems.” Bell’s work was in encryption, helping to develop the encoding systems that kept sensitive data secret. Upon occasion it also allowed him to—very carefully—decode messages he wasn’t supposed to see. It was deadly dangerous, and one slip up was enough to get him buried in a ditch somewhere, but he’d done his best to provide the Resistance with useful information. That had made him both more and less suspect, depending on the member of the cell making the determination. “I have seen three different communiqués. All troops coming out of the training program are being diverted somewhere…I don’t know where. But UNGov is trying to put together an army on Earth, there is no doubt of that.”
“But that could support the idea that the Tegeri are breaking through. UNGov is preparing for a last ditch defense…here on Earth.” Delacorte’s voice was shaky, tenuous. He’d grown up on propaganda about the Tegeri, about how they had attacked and destroyed the first colonies. He had come to despise UNGov as well, and to believe that a more open and just government could also lead mankind against the alien menace. But if Earth was about to be invaded…
“No,” Bell said, his voice stern. “Taken alone, I can understand that interpretation, but I have additional information. No troops have been withdrawn from any of the Portal worlds. None. The new recruits are completely inexperienced…if UNGov was truly preparing to face an imminent invasion, they would pull back veterans from the Portal worlds. Even if the Tegeri are winning, our forces could retreat, and the experienced soldiers would be spread out through the new units.”
