by Jay Allan
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Portal Wars: Book III
Jay Allan
Copyright 2016 Jay Allan Books
All Rights Reserved
Contents
The Far Stars Series
Also by Jay Allan
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Part One Return
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Part Two A World at War
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
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
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Epilogue
Shadow of Empire (Far Stars Book 1)
The Far Stars Series
Book I: Shadow of Empire (Nov. 3, 2015)
Book II: Enemy in the Dark (Dec. 1, 2015)
Book III: Funeral Games (Jan. 19, 2016)
The Far Stars is my new space opera series, set in the fringe of the galaxy where a hundred worlds struggle to resist domination by the empire that rules the rest of mankind. It follows the rogue mercenary Blackhawk and the crew of his ship, Wolf’s Claw, as they are caught up in the sweeping events that will determine the future of the Far Stars.
The trilogy will be released in consecutive months, beginning on November 3, 2015. The Far Stars is my first series of books with HarperCollins Voyager, and I think they are the best thing I have written.
All three books are available now for preorder. All preorders are eligible to receive a free copy of Red Team Alpha, a Crimson Worlds short story that is not available anywhere else.
Read chapter one of Shadow of Empire at the end of this ebook
Buy Shadow of Empire
Also by Jay Allan
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)
The Fall (Crimson Worlds IX)
Tombstone (A Crimson Worlds Prequel)
Bitter Glory (A Crimson Worlds Prequel)
The Gates of Hell (A Crimson Worlds Prequel)
MERCS (Successors I)
The Prisoner of Eldaron (Successors II)
The Black Flag (Successors III) – June 2016
Into the Darkness (Refugees I)
Shadows of the Gods (Refugees II)
Revenge of the Ancients (Refugees III) – March 2016
Gehenna Dawn (Portal Worlds I)
The Ten Thousand (Portal Wars II)
The Dragon’s Banner (Pendragon Chronicles I)
Homefront (Portal Wars III) – February 2016
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It is fatal to enter any war without the will to win it.
— Douglas MacArthur
Part One
Return
Chapter 1
From the Journal of Jake Taylor:
I sit here writing this on the eve of our return. Soon we will go through the Portal, step from the steaming jungles of Ghasara, and onto the frozen steppes of Siberia. It is an undiscovered Portal on Earth, or at least it appears to be, and though we will emerge in a deserted wasteland far from our objectives, we shall have time to bring our forces through unopposed. Then the war for Earth will begin.
Earth. My home. Home to all of us. And yet now, to my mind, barely the fading sinews of a dream almost faded from remembrance. We have spent years in hell, my soldiers and I, the lives we once knew sacrificed on the pyre of aggrandizement and power for the corrupt politicians who rule Earth. I know where I was born, where I lived before I was sent to Erastus. But I’m not sure I even have a home anymore. Looking at a whole world is one thing, but the thought of walking through the New Hampshire woods and back to that house, so full of memories of childhood and family, is terrifying. I don’t know what has become of my family, if they are still there—or indeed, still alive—but the thought of truly going home terrifies me more than any battle. I left a boy, gentle in nature and bookish, and I return a warrior, a killer, part machine and so far from that mild-mannered kid I must remind myself that he was indeed once me. What will they think of me? Will they know me? Will they fear me?
But there is more of concern than my own possible homecoming. We have much to reckon with, the men of UN Force Erastus, and the other soldiers who have rallied to our cause. For years we fought an unjust war, feeding our own brethren into the fires even as we slaughtered thousands of the Machines, the disrespectful name we created for the Tegeri’s genetically engineered allies. We cursed the Tegeri, called them murderers, aggressors, and yet it was we who filled those roles, and though the soldiers of Earth sent to war were lied to and deceived, it is yet our hands awash with the blood of the innocent. I shall carry that to my grave, the fading, partial recollections of the Machines I killed, the stench of death on the battlefield, the feeling in my stomach when I first learned the truth…all of it.
I have sworn vengeance on those who caused this tragedy—all of us have—and we shall have it, or none of us will survive. We shall spill the blood of our enemies, watch as the life slips from their eyes and they breathe their last painful, gasping breaths. And we shall never cease, not until all responsible are dead, and all who aided them and are stained with their guilt.
Our ranks have swelled, and we now number almost 60,000, a vastly greater force than escaped the terrible battle on Juno against the Black Corps. My officers have used the Tegeri knowledge of the Portal network to travel to other embattled worlds, to seek out the commanders of each Earth force, to rally our brothers to our side. And on each planet, as they told the Earth soldiers the terrible truth, the Tegeri and their Machine allies disengaged and began to withdraw through the Portals. Whether the warriors on those worlds joined us or not, their wars were over. They would lose no more men to the ravages of battle. They would slaughter no more of the Machines, the creatures they had reviled but who were only defending themselves.
Not all believed us. Our story is a difficult one to accept, and these men had spent years fighting the Machines, watching their own friends and comrades die at the hands of the Tegeri’s manufactured soldiers. The hatred spawned on the battlefield grips deeply, and it takes long to fade. Still, thousands flocked to our banners, swelling our ranks.
Now it is almost time. Time for our return. Time to take the war to our true enemies, and bring this nightmare to its final conclusion. There is just one more battle. One more front.
Homefront.
“We’re at 50% strength, sir. I need evac now…our me
dic got hit and I’ve got six seriously wounded.” Lieutenant Lyle Webster was crouched behind a rock outcropping. His platoon had been on the line for three straight days of nonstop combat, and only twenty-one of the forty-three men who’d marched out of Firebase Sigma with him were still standing. His six wounded were lying in a row, in the most protected spot he could find, and Private Haas was doing his best to keep them alive, despite his complete lack of medical training or equipment.
“I’ll get a bird out there as soon as I can, Lieutenant. We’ve got units in the same shape all along the line, so you might be on your own a while.”
That’s just great, Webster thought grimly, glancing back at his makeshift aid station and completely unqualified medic. “Yes, sir,” he replied simply. There was no point in arguing. He knew Major Tomms would do whatever he could for his soldiers. “Sir, we’re running low on ammo too…”
“Logistics are backed up now too, Webster.” A pause. “I’ll see if I can get you something in the next couple hours. Can you hold until then?”
Webster swallowed hard. The answer to that question depended on a lot of things, not the least of which was what the Machines did next. “Yes, sir. We’ll hold.” Webster wasn’t sure bravado was much of a substitute for reality, but it was all he had right now. Besides, if his men didn’t hold they’d get run over by the Tegeri. Their position was strong, but the ground behind was wide open—a perfect killing ground for pursuing a broken force.
Webster had no idea what had prompted the all-out attack orders from UNGov. The war on Samar had been proceeding satisfactorily, with progress almost a year ahead of schedule. But the new offensive threw all of that out of whack. Casualties were through the roof, and as far as Webster knew, no reinforcements had been sent in months. It felt like an act of desperation, but why? Nothing happening on Samar certainly. So what?
“Rizzo, I want you to move to the left. Grab a good spot with decent cover. Just in case they decide to hit us.” The Machines had been standing on the defensive all along the line, retiring from one covered position to the next, yielding ground but taking a terrible toll from the attackers in return. But Webster wasn’t going to get careless. The enemy had to know how battered his people were. If they chose to counterattack now, he was far from sure his savaged platoon could hold. He damned sure wanted his only surviving sniper ready for them.
“Got it, Lieutenant. Maybe up on that small ridge.” Rizzo pointed upward to a jagged line of rock about fifty yards north.
Webster nodded. “Looks good to me, but it’s your call. Just be ready in case those bastards decide to come at us.”
“Yes, sir.” Rizzo grabbed the heavy sniper’s rifle from where he’d leaned it against a rock, and he slipped around the nearest outcropping, crouching low and heading for the spot he’d chosen.
Webster slid down and sat behind the rock, reaching behind him into his pack. His hands rooted around for a few seconds and came out with a small nutrition bar. He hated the things…they were dry and mealy, and they tasted like shit. But it was all he had left, and even with his stomach twisted in knots, he was too hungry to ignore it any longer. He knew the thing would sit in his gut like a rock, but he couldn’t afford to let his energy levels slip. Not now. He tore off the wrapping and took a small bite, making a face as he began to chew.
“Lieutenant, we’ve got activity along the enemy line!” It was Barofsky, the scout, on the comlink. His voice was pitched with excitement. Webster had sent him forward to reconnoiter along a narrow defile that offered cover at least halfway to the enemy position.
Webster shoved the rest of the food bar into one of his pockets, and reached out for his rifle, spinning around and looking cautiously over the rock. The enemy line was at extreme range, but that didn’t mean a bullet couldn’t find your forehead if you got careless.
He expected to see Machines climbing out of their cover and moving toward his line, and his body tensed, reacting to thoughts of incoming enemy shells that might begin falling any second. But nothing was coming his way. He reached down to his belt and pulled up his scanning goggles, setting them for Mag 10 and slipping them on his head.
The Machines were retreating! At least that’s damned sure what it looked like.
He tapped the com unit on his shoulder, flipping it to the battalion command line. “Major, the…”
“The Machines are retreating,” Tomms replied before Webster could finish. “I know, Lieutenant…we’re getting reports of the same thing all across the line.”
Webster felt his stomach clench slightly, half expecting the major to order his people to attack immediately. But exhausted, low on ammunition, and with half a dozen wounded comrades to worry about, an attack was the last thing his people needed. And if his soldiers went forward and it wasn’t a real retreat…if it was a ruse…
“I want your people to stay put until further notice, Lieutenant,” Tomms said over the com. “At least until we can figure out what’s going on.”
Webster felt a wave of relief. “Yes, sir. Understood.” He flipped his com to the platoon line. “Everybody stay put. Nobody gets careless, nobody does anything stupid, got it?”
He peered again over the top of the small outcropping, eyes looking through his scanner. No doubt…the enemy was pulling back, abandoning the strong defensive line that had essentially stopped the human offensive. Webster was grateful for any break, but still there was one question looming large in his head.
What the hell is going on?
* * *
“My God, it’s as hot as the sun here.” Captain Lars Hampton stood in front of the Portal, the shimmering dance of lights still visible from the passage. He rubbed his hand across his face, wiping away the beads of sweat that had already begun forming.
Hank Daniels let out a deep laugh. “You, my friend, have never been on Erastus.” Daniels stepped out on a thick ledge of rock and looked out over the yellow, sandy desert lying before him. Samar’s sun was huge in the morning sky, and its rays beat down remorselessly on the blasted landscape below. The Portal was built into the side of a small desert mountain, perhaps fifty meters above the seemingly endless expanse of flat sand. “This is like a bracing blast of refreshing air.” Daniels turned and smiled, but despite his words, he too was sweating profusely.
The veteran colonel was one of Jake Taylor’s inner circle, one of the men who had been with the legendary leader since the beginning. Though he didn’t want to admit it, to himself or anyone else, he’d been off Erastus for years now, and he’d marched and fought across worlds with cool breezes and stinging rains…and even snow. Erastus, the world he and his brethren had called Gehenna, was indeed hotter than Samar, its two suns denying it any real night, providing only a pair of brief twilight periods, when only one was in the sky. It was the hottest world men had ever lived upon, and while Daniels wore his service there as a badge of honor, deep down he knew he was no longer as adapted to the hellish climate as he had once been.
Many of the men in the Army of Liberation, most now in fact, had flocked to the colors once the crusade had already begun, and they looked up to Taylor almost as if he were somehow divine, an avatar sent to lead them to destroy those responsible for the terrible injustice they had suffered. But Hank Daniels had known Taylor when he was a mere corporal, blissfully unaware of the fraudulent nature of the war he and his fellow-soldiers were fighting. Daniels was a Supersoldier, just like Taylor, just like the other surviving Erastus veterans. And that made the troops from the other Portal worlds view him almost as they did Taylor, with a sort of nervous deference. But Hank Daniels wasn’t the quiet, philosophical warrior Taylor was, and his easily provoked and often foul mouthed diatribes were known and feared throughout the army.
“It’s not refreshing me, sir. I feel like I’m going to pass out.”
“You won’t.” Daniels turned and looked at the rest of the half dozen soldiers who’d come through the Portal with him. “None of you will. I thought I was going to die when I
first stepped out into the heat of Erastus. But you’re more durable than you think, your bodies more adaptable.” Daniels paused. “I’m not saying you’ll be comfortable, but you’ll survive well enough.”
Unless the troops of Force Samar don’t listen to our entreaties and decide to shoot us instead. He decided not to share that last dark thought with his comrades.
“So, let’s go. The sooner we get the airship assembled and find the Samar HQ, the faster we can get out of here.” Daniels fully intended to complete his mission, to rally Force Samar to the Army of Liberation’s banner. But he knew he didn’t have time to waste. The army would be moving on Earth soon…and the idea of missing the final invasion was more than he cared to contemplate. Daniels had been with Taylor from the start, and he was determined to be at his friend’s side when they stepped foot on the green grass of Earth.
* * *
“Start with that crate.” Captain Yantz pointed toward one of the large boxes they had brought through the Portal, glancing at his two assistants. Yantz was one of the AOL’s tech officers, and he and his comrades had worked wonders keeping the army’s vehicles and equipment working using a combination of parts cannibalized from wrecked units and some bits and pieces provided by the Tegeri. Hank Daniels was on Samar to convince as many of the members of its planetary army as he could to come over to the AOL, but first Yantz had to get him more than two thousand kilometers to the coordinates T’arza had provided marking Force Samar’s nearest major concentration.
Daniels turned and watched as Yantz’ people worked. He knew they wouldn’t have a single transport or airship still functional without the supply line from their former enemies. It had taken Daniels a bit longer that Taylor to trust T’arza and the other Tegeri, but he’d eventually come around, and now he felt the same guilt Taylor did, relived the hundreds of times he’d killed Machines, and the satisfaction he’d felt gunning them down, feeling as though he was wiping out alien monsters, creatures who would come to Earth and spread death and destruction if they got past him and his comrades.
