by Jay Allan
UNGov kept watch over the population closely, seeking to cut off any dissent or rebellion before it had the chance to grow into something dangerous. Schools encouraged children to report any suspicious behavior by their parents, neighbors were recruited to spy on those who live around them. And when armies were sent to the Portal worlds to fight the Tegeri, they carried in their own ranks UNGov agents who fought alongside their comrades, but watched them closely too.
For several years, he’d thought his posting was a waste of time and resources. There were few opportunities for UNGov’s stranded soldiers to do anything but fight the Machines. He’d seen plenty of despair and demoralization, and even grumbling about UNGov, words that would get people sent to reeducation camps back home. But he wasn’t back home, and UNGov wanted as little disruption in its planetary armies as possible. So Klein allowed the mildly seditious behavior to go by without intervention. He was there just in case something major ever occurred, widespread mutiny or the like.
Then Jake Taylor and the Army of Liberation arrived. They told their story of UNGov perfidy, and they rallied the warriors of Force Phillos to join them. Klein hadn’t been sure what to do. His directives covered a wide array of potential acts of disloyalty, but none of them addressed an invasion by another Earth force, one in open rebellion against UNGov. His first instinct was to stay behind—Taylor had announced that anyone who didn’t wish to join his crusade would be allowed to remain on Phillos, unmolested by his forces. But Klein, thoroughly indoctrinated in UNGov’s way of doing things, couldn’t believe that Taylor would leave those who didn’t join him. He suspected a force of Taylor’s loyalists would remain behind, that they would attack and kill the soldiers who had stayed. So he joined those flocking to the AOL’s banners.
Klein had even considered truly committing himself to Taylor’s cause. He had to admit, the AOL’s commander was a charismatic individual who had an almost hypnotic effect when he addressed soldiers. It would be easy to accept what Taylor said, allow himself to be swept up in the same wave of enthusiasm that embraced the other men around him. But Klein was a pragmatist. For all the roaring of the troops, even for the steadily swelling ranks of the army, he knew they didn’t have a chance. UNGov didn’t have much of an army on Earth—the lack of quarreling nation states made that need obsolete. But it did have extensive internal security forces and the resources of an entire world to deploy. Even with Taylor’s skill, and the experience of 70,000 hardened veterans, he couldn’t see how they could win in the end.
No, Klein decided to retain his allegiance to UNGov, to continue in his role as a spy, now monitoring the AOL as it made its way closer to Earth. He had no way to report anything to his superiors on Earth, not yet, at least. But he’d had some success at finding his fellow agents, his counterparts who had been deployed to the other armies that had supplied recruits for the AOL. His clandestine signals had been answered, and now he had half a dozen operatives in his nascent cell.
They operated slowly, cautiously. The small number of agents he’d found was proof of how effective Taylor was at rooting out treacherous elements in the army. UNGov had deployed dozens of agents to each planetary force, yet only a few appeared to remain. To what extent the others had decided to remain behind with their respective forces…or whether Taylor and his people had discovered and killed them, he didn’t know.
Klein had exercised caution up to now, and his handful of agents had done little but have the occasional clandestine meeting. But now the army was about to move back to Earth. If he was going to accomplish anything, now was the time. He thought of the rewards UNGov would shower on its agents if they managed to help defeat the AOL…promotions, cash donatives, power. His greed pushed back against his fear, driving him to make a move now, to reach for the chance to advance himself, and his small group, to the upper ranks of Earth’s privileged class.
He would meet with his people tonight, at the spot they had chosen outside the camp. They would all have missions. Most would try to contact UNGov as soon as the army began transiting to Earth. The Portal led to a very remote location, and Klein was certain Taylor would try to get as much of his army through and in place before they were discovered. The sooner UNGov knew where the invasion was coming from, the quicker they could crush it…and reward their loyal agents.
But Klein had set his own sites higher. He had a plan, one that would ensure him not just rewards, but a route to the highest levels of government and power, possibly even a seat on the Secretariat one day. It was the stuff of dreams, power and luxury unimaginable. And all he had to do was complete the mission he’d set for himself.
All he had to do was assassinate Jake Taylor.
* * *
“This reminds me of old times, of simpler times.” Taylor never thought he’d refer to his days on Erastus with anything like fondness, yet something of the sort had managed to work its way into his mindset. “Back with the 213th at firebase Delta.” His thoughts drifted across the years, his general’s stars fading away, replaced by a non-com’s stripes. There had been six of them among those stationed at base Delta, men who were more than friends, closer than brothers. Four of them were gathered now, poking at the last scraps of the closest thing to a celebratory dinner possible using Tegeri-supplied field rations.
Two other chairs sat at the table, placed there at Taylor’s command, but empty. The first paid homage to Tom Warner, a sniper Jake and his closest friends had called ‘Longbow.’ Warner had been dead many years, killed in action long before Taylor’s rebellion. But his comrades still remembered him, still missed him. He was still one of them, as he would always be, as long as even one of them remained. They spoke of him often, of his adventures, of how his often-extreme cockiness somehow never rendered him unlikable. Longbow Warner had never served a day with the Army of Liberation, yet to Taylor and his comrades, he was as woven into its history as any of them.
The second chair was Tony Black’s. The former street tough from the Philadelphia slums had fought under the AOL’s banner. Indeed, he had been Taylor’s second in command since the day they’d raised the flag of revolt. He hadn’t always agreed with Taylor’s decisions, and the two had sometimes clashed over how to proceed, but Jake had considered Black his best friend. He still did.
Black had been killed on Juno, in the final stages of the campaign. He’d been far from Taylor as he lay dying, and their final words were via the com unit. Taylor still ached for his friend, and he regretted that he hadn’t been there to comfort Black at least, if he couldn’t save him. But he’d become used to loss. War was all he knew now, and in war men died. Even old comrades. Even best friends.
“They were simpler times, Jake.” Hank Daniels sighed and pushed back his plate. “We’ve seen a lot of things since then none of us could have imagined, friends, but I’d wager not one of us could have foreseen sitting around the table reminiscing about Erastus. We called the place Gehenna…hell! Now, I’ll be damned if part of me doesn’t wish we were back there. I used to say some pretty nasty stuff about senior officers back then, but now I understand. The responsibility is crushing, it wears you down. There was a certain freedom in just following orders. We faced danger on the field, certainly, but at least when we got back to base we had a break. Yeah, the food was lousy…” He poked at his plate. “…not that it’s all that much better now…but we could drop down on our bunks and just sleep. I haven’t had a decent night’s rest in years.”
Taylor nodded. “Nor I. I used to think it was miserable rolling around in the heat, trying to get to sleep. But there are worse things than physical discomfort, aren’t there? Soldiers fight, they die and they watch friends die. But now the fate of an entire world rests in our hands. It’s a burden, a heavy one.”
“You have done well, Jake. Whatever happens in the days and weeks to come, what you have accomplished is remarkable.” Karl Young looked across the table at Taylor. “Our road has been a difficult one, and we have not come this far without loss, certainly. B
ut we are here, and tomorrow the first boots will pass through the Portal…and the final chapter will begin. You should take some time, a few moments even, and reflect on all you have accomplished.
“Thank you, Karl…but I—we—set out with a single purpose, and that purpose still lies before us. When we stand in Geneva, when the worldwide apparatus that enslaves mankind lies in ruins, the men and women responsible dead at our feet…then I will do as you say. Though no victory, no success will erase the price we have paid, will continue to pay. Is there joy in such a victory? Or merely relief, grim satisfaction that a great evil has been vanquished.
Taylor’s thoughts were darker still. He knew destroying UNGov would be enormously difficult, but even if his people were successful, what would follow? UNGov had exploited mankind’s fear to seize control of the world—but men and nations had yielded their freedom voluntarily. For all UNGov’s evils, hardly a shot had been fired on Earth in its rise to power.
What would follow its destruction? He suspected there would be cries for him to take power, to create a new government to replace UNGov. But Taylor was a soldier, not a politician. He understood war, fighting against an enemy, battling for the comrades at his side. But he had no idea how to govern a world, and even less desire to try. What would he do? If he simply walked away, disbanded his army, would a disordered world find its way to some kind of just government? He might have convinced himself to believe that at one time, but no longer. He suspected if he didn’t take power he would just leave the way open for a new UNGov to fill the void. But if he stepped into the place of those he deposed, would he be anything different? Or would he just become what he’d hated, what he’d fought to destroy?
He forced the thoughts from his mind, the same way he usually did, by reminding himself he should focus on the battle at hand, which had to be won before the future of Earth would even become a factor. But it still loomed heavily, closing in on him…the realization that even victory against overwhelming odds would only bring him to a new crisis.
“Well,” Taylor said, looking around the table at his three closest friends, “I do have some official business while we are here.”
The other three men looked back at him, with the rapt attention—the almost hero worship he’d come to so despise. Taylor, more than anything, just wanted to be one of them, like he’d been years before. But he knew he wasn’t anymore, not really. Even those closest to him had fallen under the spell of the great leader. They called him Jake, they joked around, with him at the dinner table…but he knew they saw him differently than they had back on Erastus. When they’d fought in that desert hell, he knew any of these men would have risked their lives to save him…but now he suspected any of them would walk off a cliff if he ordered it. Tony Black had been the only who really resisted Taylor’s transformation to larger than life commander, and even he had repented as he lay dying.
“Something for each of you, before we begin the final war.” He reached down to a small sack at his feet, pulling out three tiny boxes. He tossed one to each of his friends, and leaned back. “Well,” he said a few seconds later, waving his hand as he did. “Open them.”
The three men paused another few seconds and then, almost as one, they opened the packages. Each one of them contained a small silver insignia, the two bright stars of a major general. It was a rank that hadn’t existed for forty years, not since UNGov had taken control of Earth and dissolved the national armies. The planetary forces in the war against the Tegeri had each been commanded by one general, who wore a single brigadier’s star, and the AOL had followed the same custom. But as various planetary armies had rallied to the cause, several former theater commanders had joined the AOL, confusing the chain of command with additional one-star generals.
“The three of you are my executive officers, and your rank should make that clear. I cannot lead this army alone, and though we have added some excellent officers to our ranks, there should be no doubt that the three of you are my most trusted companions.”
He looked around the table, and he could see his friends had become a bit emotional. Bear Samuels, the gentle giant, looked as if he might throw the table aside and rush to embrace Taylor…and Young and Daniels seemed like they just might do the same.
“You deserve it…but there is more than just friendship and appreciation to this.” Taylor paused. “We face a titanic struggle, and we all know the vagaries of war. If I am killed, there can be no doubt. The three of you are in command after me.”
“Jake…” Young’s voice trailed off, as if the words he’d expected had failed to come.
“I am just a man, Karl,” Taylor said. “If I die, the three of you will keep the army together, and continue the quest. What we do is more important than any of us, and as long as one man remains in the army, it must continue.”
The room fell silent as Taylor’s comrades stared down at the bright metal stars in their hands. Finally, he said, “Okay, that’s the business of the evening. We all know what to do tomorrow…and in the days to come. So, let us set aside duty…for just a few moments. Let us just be soldiers, gathered together on the eve of battle. Let us sit and tell stories, and if our exploits are a bit exaggerated, we will forgive each other the embellishments!”
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 bee
n 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.
