Portal Wars: The Trilogy

by Jay Allan

  Samovich gasped loudly for air. “We are together, all of us…the men and women of a united Earth, and here we stand and shout, ‘No!’ Loud enough to rattle heavens. We will not be defeated. We will not allow the basest of traitors to complete their work of death and destruction.

  “Now I must go, my fellow citizens, back to the war room to direct the defense of our Earth. To each of you I can only offer my solemn promise that if it takes my last breath, I will see these traitors destroyed…and our world safe.”

  He paused a moment, waiting until he was sure the camera was off. Then he scooped up a glass hidden behind the podium, and he took a deep drink. It was only water, but it was cold, and it soothed his raw throat. He drained it in two quick gulps and set it down where it had been.

  Then he stepped off the stage, a cautious smile on his face. He’d outdone himself, he was sure of it. If any of Taylor’s traitors made it out of Siberia, he suspected they would encounter a level of hostility they were ill-prepared to face. And when they were forced to defend themselves against the deluded partisans who would attack them, the word would spread, stories of the invaders firing on the locals, gunning them down. And the massive UNGov propaganda machine would see that these tales spread throughout the world.

  Yes, he thought, his grin widening…I do feel optimistic.

  It didn’t last long. He’d only taken four or five steps before he saw Alexi Drogov standing just inside the door of the studio, looking around for him. As soon as Samovich saw his friend’s face he knew. Something was terribly wrong.

  * * *

  “Half of them destroyed…the rest turned tail and ran?” Samovich roared. “How is that even possible? We had, what, three to one odds? Four?”

  “Just over three to one, sir, but the enemy is equipped with ground-based batteries of considerable effectiveness. We’ve never seen anything like them.” General Ahmad stood before the Secretary-General, clearly nervous about having to report that the UNGov forces had been repulsed in the first major battle against Taylor’s army. Like all UNGov military Earthside, he was a political appointee, not an experienced soldier. He’d been as confident going into battle as Samovich, sure his forces would prevail with such an advantage in numbers. But fewer than half his aircraft had returned, and most of those that did were badly shot up. UNGov had gambled by sending in its airpower by itself, hoping to catch the AOL still coming through the Portal, with its heavy equipment crated up and vulnerable. Instead they’d handed the enemy a victory, a morale boost that would make those veterans even deadlier in battle. And now it would be weeks, perhaps months before UNGov could hope to launch a similar strike.

  “What should I do, General?” Samovich’s tone was menace itself. “How should I respond to a level of incompetence that goes well past carelessness…past stupidity? Almost treason, I call it.”

  The general cringed before Samovich’s angry tirade. He looked around, his gaze finding Drogov. But there was no comfort to be found in that killer’s cold eyes. If anything, Alexi Drogov was less tolerant of failure than his master.

  “Secretary-General, I assure you, I made every effort…took every step to ensure our forces would win the victory.”

  “And yet, did you lead your air wings from a Dragonfire? From a high-speed flyer?” Samovich started at the quivering officer with an intensity that turned the man to jelly. “No, wait…you didn’t. I believe you were here, General, thousands of kilometers from the scene of the fighting. What was it, General Ahmad? Was it simply cowardice? Laziness? Or was it something more excusable? Perhaps the seats of a Dragonfire are insufficiently comfortable. You should have said something. I would have had a special silk-lined chair installed for you.”

  Samovich’s hand slid slightly to the edge of his desk, his finger pressing firmly on a small button. And instant later, the door opened, and four guards came in. They wore UNGov livery, but they were Samovich’s own men, handpicked from his private security force.

  “Gentlemen,” he said, his voice calm. “General Ahmad is relieved of command. Further, he is hereby judged guilty of treason and cowardice in the face of the enemy. His sentence is death, to be carried out immediately.”

  “Sir!” the lead guard snapped, gesturing for two of the others to take hold of the officer. Ahmad stared back at Samovich, his eyes wide with terror. “No, Secretary-General…please!”

  Samovich looked back at the general for an instant. Then he turned back to the senior guard. “You have your orders. Take him away…down to the large parade ground. They are setting up the scaffold now.”

  “No!,” the pathetic officer screamed, twisting in vain in an effort to get free of the guards, then collapsing entirely, forcing his captors to virtually carry him out of the office. Samovich watched as they dragged him out in the hall, still screaming. Then the door closed, and General Mahmoud Ahmad was gone.

  “I would have given the fool the slow death he deserves,” he said, looking toward Drogov as he did, “but I believe a public hanging will prove far more useful than a private death in the prison levels.” He took a breath and sighed. “See that his execution is transmitted live to all military units…especially the ones moving toward Taylor’s forces. It is important that they see the price of failure. And I believe this might be a good first assignment for some of your Shadow Company recruits, don’t you?”

  “I concur. I will see it done, Anton.”

  “And Alexi?”

  “Yes?”

  “I particularly want all officers to watch. Not just in the active units, but all those fools down in headquarters who got their fancy uniforms through political favors and bribes. They wanted to be soldiers, so now they will have that chance.”

  “Yes, Alexi.” Drogov nodded, and he turned and slipped through the door.

  * * *

  “They have Tegeri technology, that’s the only answer. And it appears the aliens have some capabilities they’ve never shown us before.” Colonel—actually, for the past forty minutes General—Akawa stood before a large screen, displaying the best image available of one of the AOL’s anti-aircraft batteries.

  “I am inclined to agree with you, General,” Samovich said quietly. “Yet to cursory inspection, it looks like a normal vehicle of human manufacture. Taylor and the Tegeri are clever…they aid his army in any way that is not obvious, but they do not join him…or give him weapons that would seem out of place.” He gestured toward the screen. “Even if we were to capture one of those, it would have no propaganda value. To the people it just looks like some kind of military vehicle.”

  “Yes, Secretary-General, I believe you are correct. We will have to rely on your speech to sufficiently…motivate…the people. I do not think either Taylor or the Tegeri will give us anything substantive to add to that.”

  Samovich nodded, looking down at his desk for a moment. Then he said, “So, General…what would you have me do now? What course of action would you order if yours was the last word. Would you send our ground forces in without air cover…or would you commit what we have that can still fly?”

  “That is a difficult question, Secretary-General.” Akawa paused, thinking. “If we commit what air assets are currently operational, we will likely be outnumbered, and the enemy will still have their ground batteries as well as their Dragonfires. But if we hold back the flyers and attack only with ground forces, Taylor’s army will have total air superiority, which will severely impede our operations.”

  “Yes, I know it is a difficult question,” Samovich said, staring intently at Akawa. “That is why I am asking you, General.”

  Akawa paused. Then he said, “Permission to speak freely, sir?”

  Samovich nodded slowly, a hint of approval in his eyes. Here is a man with some balls, at last…a lion among these sheep. “Permission granted, General.”

  “Sir, I understand what you have been told, what the general staff has advised you. But I think they are wrong…and if you follow their advice I believe we will simply see an o
ngoing series of defeats that will attrite our strength and leave us too weak at every point to ever land a crushing blow.”

  The other officers in the room fidgeted uncomfortably, and there were some sighs and sounds of discontent…and more than one nasty stare toward Akawa.

  “Quiet,” Samovich said, in a voice that dared any of them to draw so much as an audible breath. “Go on, General. Speak your mind.”

  “Akawa looked over at his fellow officers, but only for an instant. Then he returned his gaze to Samovich. “Well, sir, ideally I would also be in favor of striking at the enemy position, attacking and destroying them before they are able to disperse and move toward multiple targets. A successful attack in the near term would offer an opportunity to destroy much of the enemy’s ordnance before they are able to reassemble it.”

  “That is what I have heard already, General.” Samovich glared at the cluster of officers standing against the far wall. “It is why we have two full divisions already in central Russia…and two more following those.”

  “Yes, sir…but despite the reasons offered in favor of immediate action, I do not believe we should attack now, not a full scale assault in any event. I said it is what I would do in ideal circumstances. Our situation is far from ideal.” Akawa stopped, staring cautiously at the effective ruler of the world, but Samovich nodded for him to continue. “I do not believe we have the capability to launch a strike within the next week, even two. Not one that offers any hope of victory. And I believe those who have told you we do are either incompetent, or they fear to tell you the truth.”

  Another round of mumbled protests came from the other generals.

  “Silence,” Samovich roared. “The next one of you that makes a sound, who so much as breathes in a way I don’t like, will find himself out on the parade ground, next to General Ahmad.” He turned his head. “Please continue, General Akawa.”

  “Yes, sir. As I was saying, while catching Taylor’s army at the Portal would be desirable, I do not believe we can win that fight. Not now. His troops are all veterans, and despite his…ah…misguided ambitions, there seems little doubt he is a charismatic leader who commands the respect and devotion of his men. Our soldiers, on the other hand, are almost all raw…or they are police and security forces drafted into the army.” He glanced again over at the cluster of irate generals watching silently from the other side of the room. “And, with all due respect to my colleagues, our command staff is also inexperienced. They are no match for Taylor’s people. Not one on one. Not even two one on. We much maneuver and concentrate, and wait until we have assembled a truly overwhelming army. Wherever we finally fight his forces we must have a significant advantage in numbers and ground.”

  “So you are saying we should just let him march wherever he wants to go? To occupy any cities or objectives he may target?”

  “No, sir…not precisely. Clearly we must fight him, but I suggest we conduct raids, place forces just outside of his reach. That we set up artillery emplacements and bombard his positions, withdrawing when he moves against them. We must sting him, threaten his supply lines and rear areas when we have the opportunity.” Akawa paused.

  “Please go on, General.” Samovich stared at the other officers. “I find this insight fascinating.”

  “Yes, sir. There are disadvantages to allowing Taylor’s forces to advance, but there are opportunities as well. If we allow them, they will move toward population centers…and away from their supply line through the Portal. We may even have a chance to slip behind them and cut them off entirely. And when they reach towns and cities…and occupy them as you said, what will they find? The people of Earth believe they are murderers, traitors to their own people. By allowing them to advance we force them into confrontations with the civilians, which can only further inflame opinions against them…and which will almost certainly be severely demoralizing to Taylor’s troops, who must expect, at least on some level, to be treated as liberators.”

  “So, you would gather strength, shadow Taylor’s forces, harass them when you could, and move against their lines of supply if they give you an opening?”

  “Yes, Secretary-General…in essence that is what I would propose. And once we have gathered irresistible forces…either in one location or in many, depending on what Taylor’s people do, I would attack, and crush them at all costs.”

  “Very well, General…do it.”

  “Sir?”

  “I said do it. I am in total agreement with you. So see to it.”

  Akawa had a confused look on his face. “Do you want me to draw up plans for the general staff? To advise…”

  “No,” Samovich interrupted. “The general staff consists of a bunch of pompous fools, politicians like me…who are too arrogant to admit they don’t know what to do. I need a soldier, one who can appreciate the rewards of victory…wealth, power beyond imagining…a seat on the Secretariat.”

  He stared at Akawa. “I hereby appoint you Marshal of all Earth armies and supreme commander of the war against General Taylor and his Tegeri allies. Effective immediately, you will take command of all operations.”

  Samovich looked across the room, his eyes daring the stunned generals to challenge him. He could feel their rage, but none had to courage to argue. He turned to face Akawa. “You may do with this group as you will, Marshal Akawa. Use the ones that are worth something, dismiss the others.” A short pause. “And if any of them gives you trouble…” He glared back at the generals. “…you have my authorization to have him summarily executed.”

  * * *

  “I want you to expand your Shadow Company, Alexi. At least double its present size, and more if you feel you can use them effectively. I will give you authorization to reassign any UNGov personnel. If anyone gives you a hard time, refer them directly to me.” Samovich smiled. “Or, just…handle it…yourself.” Samovich was on edge, facing the final struggle, and angry at the reverses his forces had suffered, but he allowed himself a smile thinking about some regional commander, or even an Inquisitor, trying to stand up to Alexi Drogov. UNGov had a lot of arrogant personnel in its ranks, and more than a few cold, hard killers. But Drogov was something different, an incarnation of death itself. Cold-blooded didn’t come close to the truth. Indeed, whatever strange liquid flowed through Drogov’s veins, Samovich suspected its temperature was near absolute zero.

  His oldest colleague—and his only true friend—had an ability to set aside moral concerns, pity, mercy. Drogov wasn’t bloodthirsty…he’d as easily allow a foe to live if it served his purposes. But he would also kill…anyone, everyone, who stood in his way, and he would do it without the slightest hesitation or a hint of satisfaction. For all Samovich’s ruthless pursuit of power, he’d never seen anyone, including himself, as able to separate emotion from actions. If they hadn’t grown up together, he’d have sworn his friend was some kind of robot.

  “I anticipated your orders, Anton…and I have already begun. I’m afraid I’ve left a few stubbed toes and bruised egos, but you know me. Diplomacy is such a waste of time when fear and intimidation are so effective. I came close to shooting one of the Inquisitors, but he backed down just in time.” He looked over at Samovich. “I told him I’d come for him if he complained to the Secretariat, but I was only playing around with him. Still, just in case he scrapes up the courage to come crying to you, I wanted you to know.”

  Samovich smiled again. He didn’t believe for an instant Drogov would fail to follow through on a threat, whatever he was saying now. But he also suspected there were few UNGov operatives, even Inquisitors, with the combination of courage and stupidity to truly cross Alexi Drogov. They might as well put a gun in their mouths themselves and save the pain.

  “Very well, Alexi. As I said, you have carte blanche on resources and authority. I believe Marshal Akawa will prove to be far more competent than that pack of politically-connected lapdogs he replaced, but I’m still not sure he’s a match for Taylor, not to mention the rest of his officers and Supersold
iers.

  Samovich felt a surge of amusement at the disgust he felt for the political creatures around him, the men and women who had lied, cheated, and bought their way to power in UNGov. He was the worst political creature of them all, the one who had ascended to the greatest heights of power. But now he looked down on those beneath him, the hoard of backstabbers and liars who would do anything to take a step up the ladder of power. He saw how useless most of them were, at least when challenged by an adversary as capable as Taylor and his people. Sure, they were adept at stepping all over civilians, men and women beaten down for two generations, penned into small neighborhoods, dependent on UNGov rationing. But they were fools nevertheless, not wolves like himself, like Drogov. Like the men and women who had seized power, who had perpetrated the great deceit that had gained them control over a world.

  Drogov sat staring at his friend, an odd expression on his face.

  “What?” Samovich asked? A few seconds later…“What…what is it with you?”

  “I’m just waiting for you to tell me what you really want.” Drogov’s expression was impassive, perhaps a hint of amusement on his otherwise poker-ready face.

  “What I really want?”

  “Anton, we have known each other, what, almost fifty years? Yet you never tire of playing these games, of acting as if I don’t already known what you want before you ask.” Drogov was the only person who characterized the Secretary-General’s commands as ‘asking.’ But despite Samovich’s almost limitless power, he and Drogov both realized that everything he sent his friend to do was a request. If they hadn’t been lifelong friends, Samovich would tread carefully around the operative, and even fear him. Drogov had never refused his friend, and he’d been instrumental in eliminating political enemies during Samovich’s rise…but they both knew he could refuse it he wanted to, would refuse if the Secretary-General ever asked him to do something he didn’t want to do.