by Jay Allan
There was something in his mind other than the pride, something darker. He thought of the men who should be sitting out there with their comrades, soldiers who now lay dead across the ten kilometers of bloody battlefield behind them. Broken men in the field hospitals, struggling to survive their grievous wounds. What a waste, he thought, what a pointless sacrifice of good men. Is this how it has always been? How it always will be?
He tried to understand the sequence of events that brought him to this battlefield. The lies, the great fraud that sent him to an alien world not to defend mankind against a bloodthirsty alien enemy, but to provide propaganda to allow a worldwide coup to succeed. To put a cabal of evil men in total control of the human race. And now he and his brethren were fighting other men like them, misinformed conscripts of the totalitarian regime that ruled the world.
My God, he thought grimly, we are wretched creatures, men.
* * * * *
“You must counterattack now, General.” Keita was furious, waving his arms wildly as he shouted at Ralfieri. The two were alone in Keita’s makeshift office, and the politician had lost all restraint. He was unnerved by the ferocity of Taylor’s attack, of the gains his troops had made, and he was terrified that news would reach Samovich and the Secretariat. “We have been pushed back all across the line. Ten kilometers. Your pathetic soldiers have turned tail and run ten kilometers from an enemy with less than half their strength. It must stop. It must stop now. You will order an attack, General. At once.”
Ralfieri was sick of Keita’s non-stop, mindless pressure. The politician had no idea of the realities of combat, no understanding of what his men had endured over the past several days. He was tempted to drag Keita out to the front, to show him the battered remnants of units that had lost half their strength or more, the field hospitals overflowing with shattered men. Maybe then, he thought, the pompous ass would stop using words like pathetic to describe the soldiers fighting and dying for him. But probably not. Politicians like Keita considered the men who fought for them to be tools, nothing more.
“Secretary, with all due respect, my forces are in no condition to attack. We’ve lost over 10,000 men in the last three days, more than half of them from the Black Corps. The rest of my forces are exhausted and demoralized.” Ralfieri’s own self-control was wavering. Fatigue was wearing down his ability to deal with Keita and his constant harangues. “We are in no condition to go on the offensive right now.”
“And what condition do you suppose Taylor’s forces are in after their constant attacks? Have they not suffered losses too? Are their men not tired and worn down by the fighting?” Keita didn’t know a thing about combat, but he spoke with the arrogance of an expert on the subject.
“Of course they are tired too, Secretary. And low on supplies. But they have momentum. It is a wiser strategy to withdraw slowly, to allow them to expend the last of their strength and ordnance. When their attack has finally exhausted itself, when they have no energy left to continue to advance and they have used up their supplies…that is the time for a counter-attack.” Ralfieri knew from Keita’s expression his argument wasn’t getting anywhere, but he wasn’t finished trying. Not yet. “I don’t know why they are attacking so aggressively, Secretary. It seems to me they are taking unnecessary chances. But we will do them a favor if we attack now.”
“Nonsense, General.” Keita’s voice dripped with arrogance. “Your timidity does not serve you well. You are to launch a counter-attack across the line. It is time to end this battle, to destroy this outlaw and his rebels. Now.”
“Secretary, most of our units in the line are disordered. They need time to reorganize and resupply.” Ralfieri couldn’t imagine the confused mess if he ordered all the retreating units to turn and attack. He wasn’t even sure how many of them would – could – obey such a command. And the only reserves were…
“Then commit your reserves, General. At once.”
“Secretary, those troops are protecting our lines of supply. If we commit them and the enemy gets around our flank, they could cut us off from the Portal.” Raflieri’s stomach was clenched into a knot. He knew Keita wasn’t listening.
“That will not happen, General, because our attack will destroy the enemy utterly.” Keita’s face turned down to look at the tablet on his desk. “You have your orders, General. That will be all.”
* * * * *
“Lieutenant, we’ve got a large body of enemy troops heading toward us, company strength at least.” Sergeant Brand’s voice was calm and professional as always, but Jamison could sense the concern the veteran was hiding. Brand’s platoon was out on point, about a klick forward of the rest of the company.
Jamison turned instinctively to look toward their position. His people had advanced through the remains of a section of woods. There wasn’t much left of the forest, just a few charred and splintered trunks still standing, but there was a small hill beyond, and Brand’s people were on the other side of it.
“Pull back to the hill and form a defensive line. I’ll bring the rest of the company up.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Fuck,” Jamison whispered under his breath as he cut the connection. “What the hell is going on?” The last thing he expected was a counter-attack, even a localized one. As battered as his forces were, the enemy was even worse off. His people had been doing nothing for the last day but chasing routing and withdrawing enemy formations.
He felt a flash of anger over the lack of drone reconnaissance. He understood the army’s logistical limitations, at least in theory. But when his men almost ran into a major enemy force with no warning, frustration overwhelmed understanding. He knew General Taylor couldn’t launch drones he didn’t have, but that didn’t stop Jamison from feeling anger and resentment.
He flipped on the companywide frequency. “Company C, we are moving forward to the hilltop, now. Prepare for action.” He’d thought his men were finally going to get some time to rest, maybe even time to eat a hot meal. But it didn’t look like it was in the cards. “Move out.”
He jogged forward slowly, reminding himself as always just how fast and high his enhanced leg muscles could propel his body. He was about halfway to the hill when all hell erupted.
“Lieutenant, we’ve got at least two companies attacking, and it looks like they’ve got a second line coming up.” Brand’s cool demeanor was gone, replaced by the hurried report of a combat commander in the heat of battle. The sounds of gunfire and explosions were almost drowning out his words.
“Find the best ground you can and hold out, Danny. I’m bringing the rest of the company up to your position now.” Jamison flipped the com back to the company line. “Let’s move it, people. We’ve got enemy coming in just beyond the hill.”
Jamison ran up the slope, diving to the ground as he reached the crest. Brand’s men were already there, at least the ones who’d made it back up the hillside. At least ten of them were dead on the slope below.
“Open fire, everyone.” It was a superfluous order – most of the company was already firing on full auto. They’d seen the same thing Jamison did. Hundreds of enemy soldiers, racing across the plain and up the hill, right at their position, firing up at them as they came on.
Jamison crawled toward a large rock, a spot that offered decent cover and a good vantage point for shooting. He stared out at the approaching enemy forces, firing at those closest to the hill. The field was already covered with dead. Brand’s men had made their fire count. But there were hundreds of fresh troops behind those in the front, and more moving up in the distance.
“Keep firing, boys,” Jamison yelled in his thick Irish accent. “They’re not taking this hill. No fucking way.” His voice was confidence itself, but his mind was full of doubts.
* * * * *
“Jake, we’ve got enemy counter-attacks coming in all across the line.” Black was tense and out of breath as he rushed into the headquarters tent. “They’re hitting us in strength everywhere.”
&n
bsp; Taylor looked up from his makeshift desk. “I’m monitoring the company commander reports now. They must be committing the last of their reserves.”
“I’ll issue the orders to pull back. We can retreat to Grayhill Ridge.” Black walked over to the desk and held out the tablet he was carrying so Taylor could see the map it displayed. “We can build a strong position there and…”
“No.” Taylor’s voice was like iron. “We’re not falling back. Not a centimeter.” Taylor stared at Black, his mechanical eyes focused on his second in command. “We’ll fight it out on the current line.”
Black stared back at Taylor, his mouth open in surprise. “But, Jake,” he finally said, “we’ve been pursuing the enemy as they withdrew. Our forces are strung out all across the battlefield, disordered and low on supplies. If we regroup…”
“No.” Taylor slid back his chair and stood up. “Our goal is to destroy the enemy army. Falling back will only give them time to reorganize their own shattered units. A pause will make them stronger, not weaker. We’ll shake out some disorder, nothing else. They’ll get reinforcements and supplies through the Portal. We’ll get nothing.” There was no emotion in Taylor’s voice, none at all. “We must maintain the pressure until they surrender…or until they are destroyed.”
Black stood stone still for a moment, looking at Taylor wordlessly. Finally, he said, “Have you completely forgotten what’s it’s like for the men out there, Jake?” He tried to stop, to hold his tongue, but once he started, it all burst out. “Whatever cold, inhuman logic you’ve got rattling around in your head, remember we’re still talking about men out there, human beings. Your men. Those boys have been fighting nonstop for over a week. We’ve got units up there at 25% strength, and still they’re pushing forward.” Black’s voice was hoarse, angry. “Don’t you care about the men anymore, Jake? Don’t you give a shit how much they suffer? How many of them die?”
Taylor felt each of Black’s words like a knife cutting into him, and the pain welled up inside. But he maintained his emotionless façade, his grim countenance. He was determined to keep what T’arza had told him from Black and the rest of his men. That was a burden Jake would bear himself. If Black and the others blamed him so be it, but they didn’t need the distraction and demoralization the truth would cause them. Telling them would only put them at greater risk, take their minds off the current battle. And they were in a fight to the death already.
“I’m sorry you feel that way, Colonel.” Taylor was struggling to hide his emotions. “I thought you understood that the crusade itself was more important than any of our lives, than all of our lives.” He stared coldly at Black, every bit of his will struggling to maintain his determined façade. “Nevertheless, despite your personal feelings, I expect you to obey my orders to the letter. Is that understood?”
Black looked back at Taylor, and his gaze hardened. “Yes sir, General.” He turned and walked toward the exit. He pushed open the small door and stopped. “I had a friend once, closer than a brother.” He paused for a few seconds then continued without turning around. “My friend was named Jake Taylor, and he bled inside for every man he lost. He agonized over every plan, struggled to save as many of his soldiers as possible.”
Black finally turned, looking over his shoulder as he went on. “But my friend is dead, gone. And all that is left in his place is a cold-blooded butcher, deaf to the cries of his soldiers.” Black turned and stepped through the door before Taylor could respond.
Taylor walked over and closed the still-open door. Then he sat down and put his face in his hands and sighed. Black’s angry words had hit him like spears, slicing into him, tearing at his soul. He wanted to chase his friend, to tell him why he was pushing everyone so relentlessly. But he just sat there.
He’d known from the start the Crusade would take all he had, every last bit of his endurance, but now he was beginning to doubt his strength, his ability to do what had to be done. It was too much, too heavy a load for any man to carry. But still, he had to try, he had to find a way to go on. And he would. Later. For a moment he just sat there, replaying Black’s words again and again in his head.
Chapter 19
From the Tegeri Chronicles:
The Ancients left us more than the Portals, more than the ability to explore the worlds of the galaxy. They left us all they had taught us, the wisdom they shared with our ancestors. They left us also a great responsibility. For we and the humans are not alone, not unique. The Portals lead to thousands of worlds, and upon many of these, far away, lie the seeds the Ancients planted.
The Other Races are younger than we, than the humans. They still reach toward true sentience, striving to take the first steps toward civilization. Primitive and helpless, their survival is in our hands, for the Darkness will not repeat its error and allow the lesser races to survive as they did millennia ago.
We Tegeri know our race is slowly dying, that we will one day follow the Ancients into the next plane of existence. But first we must rally to face the Darkness, to answer the Ancients’ charge to us to stand in their place, alongside our human brothers, to protect the younger races, those who have not yet come of age.
To fail those we regarded as mentors, as fathers, would be a great dishonor. The coming struggle will determine if the Tegeri race departs this universe slowly, gracefully, having honorably defended those destined to come after us or if we are destroyed quickly, in failure and disgrace everlasting.
“I have returned from Juno to address this Council.” T’arza stood at the ancient table, speaking to the other elders of the Tegeri. “Taylor and his army are engaged in a massive battle with the forces of the Earth government. Both sides are suffering enormous losses, yet the struggle continues. If we do nothing, Taylor’s force will be destroyed, or they will be too battered to meaningfully challenge the authorities on Earth. His quest will fail, even if he is ultimately victorious on Juno.”
The First nodded. “Indeed, T’arza, I believe all gathered here understand the situation. Yet, as before, I see no meaningful way we can assist Taylor without doing more harm than good.” The First gazed at T’arza with ancient eyes. “Have you any actions to propose that we have not previously considered?”
“Yes, Honored First. I would not waste the time of this Council if I did not.” T’arza looked down the table, at the heads of each of the great houses of the Tegeri. “You are all aware that I feel the Kzarn’ta to the human Taylor, for though I acted at the direction of this body, I was the instrument by which his current path was chosen. Yet, all here have known me for many an age. Never would I seek to influence the Council’s wisdom simply to alleviate my own dishonor.”
T’arza paused and turned his gaze back to the First. “I believe there is a way we can assist Taylor without damaging his quest.” He stood at the table, his gray robes hanging loosely about him.
The First nodded. “Please, T’arza, share your reasoning with the Council, for all here are united in our hope that Taylor succeeds in his quest and we are able to renew our brotherhood with the humans.”
T’arza returned the First’s nod. “My thanks, Honored First. I shall.” He paused and inhaled deeply. “The human government is supplying their forces and sending reinforcements to Juno through the Portal from the world they call Oceania. The struggle on that planet continues, though our forces have been retreating for several years, yielding territory to the humans.”
T’arza glanced down the table again and then back to the First. “I propose that we commit additional resources to Oceania and launch a major offensive there, with the goal of materially interdicting the human supply line between Juno and Earth. Such an action will not appear to be directly connected to Taylor, yet if we are able to slow or eliminate the flow of supplies and reserves to his opponents, we will substantially increase his chances of victory.”
T’arza looked at the First, awaiting his reaction. But a voice came first from down the table, from C’tar, the ancient Grandmaster of the S
eminary. The spiritual leader of the Tegeri spoke softly, but there was certainty and assurance to his words. “T’arza’s plan is wise.” C’tar stood at the far end of the table opposite the First, clad in the unadorned robes of a teacher. He looked down the table at his fellow elders. “It is a way we may aide the human Taylor and his soldiers while remaining, to all appearances, uninvolved in their conflict.”
All eyes were on C’tar. He had surprised the Council at the last meeting with his proposal to destroy the humans if Taylor’s crusade failed, and now, once again, he was taking an unexpected position.
“All here know that I proposed the destruction of Earth if Taylor failed in his mission. Such a course of action would be a horrendous crime, a stain on the honor of our race for all time. Yet to allow the war with the humans to distract us, to meet the Darkness with less than the total force we can muster, would be an even worse offense. For we stand against this nemesis of the Ancients not only for our race, but for the many others only now struggling to attain sentience and to move down the path toward civilization. The Darkness overlooked us ages ago, when we were a young and primitive race and the Ancients shielded us. They will not make such a mistake again. If we fall, so too do all those races, children of the Ancients as are we, and in all the galaxy there will be naught but the silence of death.”
C’tar nodded slowly, and he held up his ancient and withered hands to the Council, a gesture of sincerity. “Such is my counsel.”
The cavern was silent, everyone present slowing turning their gaze from the Grandmaster of the Seminary toward the First, awaiting the word of the eldest and most senior of the Tegeri.
“I thank you for your words, C’tar, on behalf of this Council. Your wisdom, as always, lights our path.” The First was the closest thing the non-hierarchal Tegeri had to a head of state, but the Grandmaster of the Seminary was considered the wisest of his race, one whose entire life had been devoted to study and contemplation. The First bowed slightly toward C’tar, followed by each member of the Council in turn.
