by Jay Allan
“Men of the Black Corps, by now you are all aware that we have been surgically altered, rendered incapable of refusing orders issued by designated authorities from UNGov.” Evans looked out over the men assembled in front of him. All the survivors of the Black Corps were there, just over 4,000 out of 20,000 who had marched through the Portal. “What has been done to us cannot be undone. There is no cure, no way back. UNGov has made slaves of us, puppets waiting to dance for their masters.”
Evans looked out over the soldiers before him, standing silently. “We cannot follow General Taylor and his army. There is too great a danger our conditioning will be used against them, and we cannot allow that. Taylor and his forces are the only chance to destroy UNGov, to free all the generations that follow from tyranny, to ensure that they can never do to others what they did to us. We will not be the cause of that effort’s failure.” His voice was grim, determined.
“We have two choices, brothers, and each of us must decide for ourselves what road we will tread. Even as I speak, new soldiers are marching through the Portal. These forces will undoubtedly be accompanied by UNGov personnel, probably another Inquisitor team. If we do nothing, if we remain here, they will give us orders…commands we will be unable to disobey. They will tear from us our free will, makes us slaves to their purposes. They will compel us to follow General Taylor and his forces, to continue to fight a dishonest and evil war. To kill men who are the only hope to end this nightmare and lead Earth to a better future.”
Evans took a deep breath. He was scared and sad, but anger was his strongest emotion, fueled by a deep and growing hatred for UNGov. He thought about Taylor’s men reaching Earth, rallying the people of the world, destroying those who had done this to him, to his soldiers. He didn’t know if they could do it, a few thousand men taking on a world, but he liked to believe they would prevail.
“I will give you no orders. Each of you must make your own choice…and choose well, for whatever you decide, it may be the last decision you make for yourself.”
Evans reached down to his side, pulling his pistol slowly from its holster. “Here then, is my decision. I shall never live as a slave again, never surrender my free will, never be made to serve such an evil master again.”
He looked out over the soldiers assembled before him. A murmur rippled through their ranks when he pulled out the pistol, but now they stood frozen, silent, watching their commander in terrified awe.
“Goodbye, my brothers. I have been honored to serve with you and, briefly, to command your ranks. You deserve far better than that which fate has given you.” He paused for an instant, his eyes panning across the assembled ranks one last time. “Fortune go with you wherever you go, my friends.”
He took one last breath and raised the pistol to his head. A second passed, possibly two, seeming impossibly long to the men watching their leader. Then a single shot rang out, and Major Thomas Evans fell to the ground.
The men of the Black Corps stood in stunned silence for a moment, staring at the body of their leader. Then a single shot rang out, as if in answer. And another, and another. Throughout the massed ranks, men began to fall, singly at first then in clumps, following the example of their commander, choosing death over slavery.
When it was over the air was still, and in the silent, fading twilight, 4,000 men lay dead by their own hands, a last rebellion against those who had taken their humanity and made them into slaves.
* * * * *
Keita stood before Taylor, trying to maintain his composure despite the panic building inside him. He was exhausted and more than a little disoriented. He couldn’t reconcile with how he’d gone from discussing Taylor’s army in the safety of UN Headquarters months before to being their prisoner. He was scared, wondering what the rebels would do with him. Years of arrogance as one of Earth’s masters wouldn’t let him believe they might seriously harm him. It didn’t occur to him that Taylor might ask himself what treatment he would get at the hands of UNGov if he had been captured. If it had, Keita’s meager control would have broken down completely.
Taylor walked toward Keita, his stride grim and purposeful. When Keita saw the expression on Taylor’s face, his heart sank, and he began to shake with fear. This was a man like none he’d ever seen before. It wasn’t the fiery heat of rage the captive saw on Taylor’s face. It was something far worse, an icy stare as cold as death itself. There was no humanity in the man approaching, no pity, no mercy. Only grim purpose. And a hatred Keita couldn’t begin to understand.
Taylor stopped about a meter from Keita and looked over his shoulder, toward a small cluster of officers. “The army will prepare to march toward the Yanvar Portal. We’re moving on as soon as possible. No more delays.” The new forces arriving on Juno would eventually pursue his people, and he wanted to be off Lorus before that happened. The Yanvar Portal was in a remote area. It would take any pursuers a long time to find it. By the time they did, Taylor and his men would be on Earth.
Taylor didn’t know if his battered group of survivors from Juno qualified as an army anymore, but he didn’t know what else to call it. The remnants of Force Juno had brought his numbers up, but the ranks of his Supersoldiers were sorely depleted. No more than a third of the Ten Thousand had survived the holocaust of Juno, but those men were as grim and deadly as any who had ever taken up arms.
“We have a job to do on Earth, and it’s past time we got there.”
“Yes, sir.” The senior officer of the group replied crisply. “With your permission, sir.” He snapped off a salute and, at Taylor’s nod, he turned and trotted off to carry out the order.
Taylor turned toward one of the guards standing next to Keita. “Escort Mr. Keita to storage hut 7. It has been prepared for him.” There was a menace in Taylor’s voice so terrifying, Keita’s legs gave out and he slumped to the ground. “He and I have much to talk about.”
Taylor watched the guards drag Keita’s limp and cowering form toward the hut, but he wasn’t really seeing it. Taylor couldn’t see anything but Tony Black, one instant the cheerful, smiling image of his friend, the next his imagining of the dead and bloodied face of his second in command, lying unretrieved and unburied on the battlefield. Whatever was left of Taylor’s humanity, of his ability to grant an enemy mercy, had died in that bloodsoaked mud with his friend.
He turned and walked grimly toward the storage hut. He had a lot to discuss with Keita.
* * * * *
Taylor walked slowly away from the hut, wiping his hands on a small cloth, once bright white, now almost completely covered in red. It was blood mostly, but other fluids too. Keita’s interrogation had not been an easy one, but Taylor was sure he’d gotten everything the prisoner knew. It was all there now, stored in the eidetic memory UNGov’s scientists had implanted in his brain. Names, locations, vital government installations, force strengths…everything. It really had been foolish, Taylor thought, for UNGov to allow a member of the Secretariat to fall into his grasp. He couldn’t even begin to assign a value to the information he’d gotten from Keita.
The UN Secretary had talked, almost from the start, but Taylor had been forced to press harder to get the truly classified data. There were others Keita was afraid of too, and Taylor had to work his way through that before the dam burst, and the prisoner hemorrhaged truly sensitive information. By the time Taylor put a bullet in Keita’s head, it was nothing but a mercy, a thank-you for the tremendous intelligence Taylor would now use in the quest to bring down UNGov.
He gave a passing thought to the brutality he’d just employed, the soulless expediency with which he’d tormented his prisoner. He tried to imagine his younger self, what he would have thought. But he quickly put it aside. That boy had been a fool, a child with no idea how dark the universe truly is. Still, Taylor had interrogated Keita alone. He would allow himself to become a monster to see the Crusade achieve victory, but he wouldn’t ask any of his men to tread down that path with him. Those nightmares would be his and his alone.
He’d done what he had to do, and there was no use whimpering about it. He had work ahead, so much work. They’d won the battle on Juno…or at least they’d escaped from it. He had no idea what Evans and the remnants of the Black Corps had done. He had some suspicions, but they were too dark, too terrible to think about. He hated himself for hoping they made the choice he thought they had. It was horrifying, but it also meant there was no chance he would have to face them again, that more of his men would die. The holocaust on Juno had been enough.
He didn’t have time for such musings. There was still a long way to go. And whenever he felt his resolve weakening or pity creeping into his soul, there was the image of Tony Black, his friend, his brother, alone, lying dead on the cold ground.
The battle for Earth would be next, and it would be like nothing Taylor’s people could imagine. His army had left almost 70% of its strength dead in the sands of Juno, thousands of loyal soldiers, dedicated fighters…friends. He didn’t begin to know how he could destroy UNGov with what was left. But he knew he would try, his men would try…and if they didn’t succeed, none of them would survive. They owed nothing less to the thousands who had died on Juno, giving their lives so the fight could continue.
He knew victory on Earth would only be the start, that the Darkness was coming, and man had to be ready to face it. He still bore that burden alone, the only human being who knew what was coming. There was a limit to what men could endure, and his soldiers had enough to carry.
He stopped and turned to look back toward the Juno Portal. “Well, my friend, we are on our way back to Earth, as we planned when this all began back on Gehenna.
He had a picture in his mind, Tony Black the day he’d reported for duty fresh out of the Portal. He’d been a cocky little shit, plucked straight from the streets of the Philly Metrozone. Taylor had been a newly promoted sergeant, eager to prove he had what it took to whip new recruits into shape. They’d clashed at first, but it wasn’t long before they’d become fast friends. For more than ten years, they’d marched together, fought together, ate together, pulled each other through the hell of Erastus. Taylor knew he would never have survived so long in Gehenna without Tony Black.
“Goodbye, my friend.” Taylor’s voice was soft, mournful. “I will drink that toast to you standing in the wreckage of UNGov HQ.”
Also By Jay Allan
Tombstone (A Crimson Worlds Prequel)
Bitter Glory (A Crimson Worlds Prequel)
The Gates of Hell (A Crimson Worlds Prequel)
Marines (Crimson Worlds I)
The Cost of Victory (Crimson Worlds II)
A Little Rebellion (Crimson Worlds III)
The First Imperium (Crimson Worlds IV)
The Line Must Hold (Crimson Worlds V)
To Hell’s Heart (Crimson Worlds VI)
The Shadow Legions (Crimson Worlds VII)
Even Legends Die (Crimson Worlds VIII)
Gehenna Dawn (Portal Worlds I)
The Dragon's Banner
Stars and Empire
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Dragon Rising
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Into the Darkness
(Crimson Worlds: Refugees I)
The Fall
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MERCS
(Book I of Crimson Worlds: Successors)
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Table of Contents
Also By Jay Allan
Upcoming
Part One
Anabasis
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Part Two
A Place Called Armageddon
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Part Three
My Enemy, My Friend
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
