by Jay Allan
“Missiles three and four, armed and loaded.” A short pause. “Ready to fire, sir.”
MacArthur flashed back briefly to some of the battles he’d fought with the AOL. They’d been perpetually low on supply then, and he’d had to ration every missile like it was his last scrap of food or drop of water. But now the Tegeri had resupplied the entire army, delivering vast quantities of virtually exact copies of all weapons systems…missiles, autocannon rounds, even three dozen brand new airships, indistinguishable from the Dragonfires he already had save that they were new and not patched back together half a dozen times.
He tapped the throttle slightly to the left, and an instant later he heard he the tone again. Locked. He pulled his finger tight, firing again. Now he had four missiles in the air.
“Autocannons ready,” he ordered. The four missiles were more than enough to take down the enemy craft, but MacArthur wasn’t taking any chances.
“Autocannons loaded and ready, Colonel.”
“Very well,” he replied as he shoved the stick forward, pushing the thrust to maximum. His screen displayed the UNGov ship trying to escape with the four missiles closing on its tail. And behind that, MacArthur’s airship, moving steadily closer.
He took a deep breath and locked his eyes on the targeting screen. His focus was almost total, but there were thoughts floating in his head, around the edges of the intense concentration, realizations of what was happening now.
He was back on Earth. They all were. And the final war had begun.
* * *
“Let’s go…we need to get you on your way.” Bear Samuels stood next to the row of newly-assembled trucks, watching as his people handed out packs and directed the three to six member teams to their designated vehicles. There was noise in the background, and bustling activity as “Frantic” Young directed the troops along the front line as they dug trenches and set up rows of heavy weapons around the perimeter of the army’s position. There were more than six thousand men deployed on the forward lines, stretched out in an extended order designed to limit potential damage from nuclear or chemical attack. There was an attitude of grim determination in the ranks of those men, a sense that they were outnumbered and outgunned, but that they would still prevail somehow.
But the small groups now mounting up and driving away in the transports had an even more dangerous job, and possibly one upon which the true chance for victory depended. These men would leave the camp, they would drive as far as they could before they ran out of fuel or had to abandon the trucks to hide from enemy patrols. Then they would walk, moving through woods or brush when possible, doing everything they could to hide from the enemy as they made their way to their old homes.
The infiltration teams had two missions. First, to avoid being killed or captured while they made their way, however they could, back to the cities and towns where they’d lived before they were drafted. And second, to seek out family, old friends, teachers…anyone who’d known them, who could identify them and would listen to what they had to say. They were the vanguard of the battle of hearts and minds, a desperate struggle that would be fought in cities and towns across the world.
Jake Taylor was a gifted leader, victorious in battle and loved by the men under his command. But he was also perhaps the only man in the AOL who recognized the true evil his army faced, the levels to which the politicians of UNGov would go to preserve their power and privilege. His troops were, for the most part, simple soldiers, men who’d come into the military without much in the way of advanced education and who had learned the way of the warrior…devotion to duty, loyalty to comrades. But Taylor knew how different his adversaries were from the straightforward fighting men he commanded.
He’d spent as much time in the months and years leading up to this moment thinking about the information war his people would face as he had the actual fighting. He knew his soldiers expected to be greeted as liberators, or at least welcomed by throngs of curious townspeople who would listen to their rallying cries, and welcome them home as heroes. But Taylor was far less optimistic. For four years his forces had advanced across the Portal wars, fought a dozen battles…and for all that time, he suspected, the UNGov propaganda machine had been in full swing.
The Tegeri had been insistent that their connection to Taylor be a secret, lest UNGov be given the chance to link his people to the terrible alien enemy men had feared for four decades. But Taylor knew even the gifted aliens didn’t understand what men like those who ran UNGov were capable of. He expected not only caution, but fear from the people his troops encountered…even hatred. His worst fears were that his army would be compelled to open fire on civilians, normal people they had come to liberate, turned into misguided partisans by UNGov’s unceasing lies and deceit.
He was determined to do whatever was possible to prevent such tragedies, but his options were limited. The yells and shouts of his soldiers wouldn’t carry far, and they wouldn’t be very convincing to civilians conditioned on UNGov propaganda. Taylor had a few tools that might help him, technological marvels given to him by the Tegeri. But he knew he had to exert tremendous care in their use. And they were far from enough to win the support of a world.
But the connections between mothers and sons, fathers and sons. The joy of seeing a brother, long thought lost forever. Childhood friends, embracing for the first time in years. These were the kinds of things that could stand up to government lies, and Taylor was determined to utilize this great power for all it was worth.
His army had soldiers from every corner of the globe, from what had once been Russia and China…and Japan and Poland and Germany. He would send these men out, to their homes, in those places and more. To France and England. To the rugged Highlands of Scotland and the warm, sunny coasts of Spain. And even across the oceans…to the remnants of the United States, Canada. Mexico. And South America.
He would send them home, selected groups, veterans with the skill and ability to make a long journey behind enemy lines…with some chance of success. He knew for many it would be a suicide mission. Thousands of kilometers lay between most of them and home, a long way to journey behind enemy lines. They would be found, and when they were they would be killed…or worse. UNGov had many skilled interrogators in its ranks, and Taylor had no doubts the horrors his captured men would face.
But some would get through. He believed that, though he wasn’t sure if that belief was born of knowledge or simply from his need to have some kind of faith. And those who did would spread the word, not to terrified civilians facing phalanxes of armed troops but one on one, to friends and loved ones. People who would believe them, who would burn hot with anger when they understood what had happened to their sons and brothers and husbands.
Samuels moved down the column of transports, stopping at each and shaking the hands of the team members. Bear’s shoulder bore the two stars of a major general, but the giant hadn’t forgotten his roots as an enlisted man. These soldiers were going into extreme danger, running a gauntlet by themselves, with only a few fellows at their sides. Samuels knew the entire army was in grave danger, that they faced a terrible struggle that would claim many of them. But there was something different about facing danger surrounded by thousands of comrades. The infiltration teams would be alone…alone on the world that had once been their home. And General Chuck Samuels figured the least he could do is wish them each well before they departed.
“Good luck, boys.” Bear grasped the hand of a soldier standing just outside the next transport in line. “Where you guys headed?” He knew they were going to Warsaw…he knew where all the transports were going. But he wanted to let the soldier talk about home, even for a few seconds.
“Thank you, sir. I’m from Otwock, sir. It’s a town just outside Warsaw.” He gestured toward the three others standing by the transport. “The rest of the guys are from the same area.”
“Any family back in Otwock?” Bear almost didn’t ask. Most of the soldiers had left friends and family behind whe
n they’d gone to war…but they’d fought for years with no contact with home, no real hope of ever returning. He knew they were all thinking the same things…what has changed, who is still there, still alive? And how will they see me? As what I was before…or as the creature war made me?
Bear himself had those same thoughts. He’d left a mother and a father behind, and two sisters as well. Were they still alive eighteen years later? If they were, they no doubt mourned him as dead, not daring to hope he’d managed to survive so long. If he made it back there, his arrival would be a shock…and he would bring with him the fire of rebellion in his wake. Certainly, UNGov was a cancerous government, but Taylor and Bear and the soldiers of the AOL would plunge the world into war. People would have to choose sides. Men like Bear, inured to hardship and violence, had an easier time casting themselves into battle. But he had come from simple folk, and he wondered, will they embrace this rebellion? Or will they fear it…and curse it for engulfing their world in fire.
“Yes, General…my father. And a brother. My mother got sick a few years before I got drafted. Her medical rating was too low, and we didn’t have the money to buy drugs on the black market. She hung on for a while, a month…a bit more. But then she passed.” Bear had drifted off into thoughts of his own family, but he pulled himself back, catching the last of the soldier’s words…and feeling a surge of strength from them. It was outrages like the man had described that made the army’s crusade a noble one…and he would follow it through to the very end.
“I’m sorry about your mother…but that’s why we’re here, isn’t it soldier? To make sure things like that don’t happen to anyone else.” Bear patted the man on the shoulder and looked over his comrades. “I’ll keep a good thought for your father and brother, son. For all your fathers and brothers…and mothers and sisters and friends. Remember, boys, we’re all with you. To the very end.”
He held his gaze for a few seconds, and he could see the animation on their faces as they boarded the transport. Bear was always amazed how a few words could drive men to face hellish danger with a determined stare. But then he realized, Taylor could do the same to him.
Perhaps that’s how we do the things we do.
He walked up to the next vehicle, and he smiled again. “Hello, soldiers…where you guys headed?” His eyes glanced down the line of trucks, stretching almost out of sight. Bear was tired, but he was also determined. None of these men would go, not until he wished them well personally. He didn’t know if it would make a difference, if his little rallying cries would save lives, keep the men focused on their objectives. But as long as there was a chance, Bear Samuels was going to see it done.
* * *
“Colonel MacArthur shot down the flyer, sir, and he says he is almost certain our jamming prevented it from sending any kind of warning. So it is unlikely UNGov has received any reports on our dispositions.” Hank Daniels was following after Taylor, matching his commander’s swift pace. Taylor was edgy…even more than he had been since the army began to transit back to Earth. Daniels was trying to reassure Taylor, but he didn’t even sound like he’d convinced himself.
“Come on, Hank, you know better than that.” Taylor’s voice suggested he appreciated his friend’s efforts, but also that he wasn’t buying a word of it. “The damned thing’s disappearance is its own signal. What do you think is going to happen when it doesn’t come back? What would you do if MacArthur’s bird hadn’t returned from a scouting run?”
Daniels exhaled loudly, a signal that one of the AOL’s grimmest realists was done trying to find the silver lining. “Okay, okay, I agree. So what do we do now?”
“We get ready, that’s what. First, I want those anti-air vehicles reassembled…they have priority over everything except the Dragonfires. When UNGov realizes we’re here, they’re going to be able to hit us by air long before they can get appreciable land forces here.”
Daniels nodded. “I agree. The Reapers will be a big surprise to the UNGov forces.”
Taylor nodded, even allowing himself a brief grin. “Yes, I’m inclined to agree.” Reaper wasn’t an official name, just something that had caught on somehow. The new weapons system didn’t have any name, and certainly not one Taylor or his people were likely to pronounce. The Tegeri had given them the forty vehicles, basically armored half-tracks mounted with an array of anti-aircraft weaponry. They were built to fit in alongside the human-designed ordnance, to not give away the fact that the Tegeri were supporting Taylor and his people…at least not in any way that offered propaganda opportunities to UNGov. Taylor had no doubt the Secretariat was well aware of his Tegeri connection, but as long as he didn’t offer them alien-looking equipment they could capture and plaster all over the information nets he figured it was okay deploying whatever he could.
“I think we’ll be in good shape if we can get them in place in time. MacArthur should have a full squadron up before they can hit us, and if he’s got the ground support network backing him up we should be able give them a hell of a bloody nose.”
Taylor knew UNGov didn’t have a large air force to throw at his people. Earth’s only government didn’t maintain an army of any substance outside of the disputed Portal worlds, only internal security forces designed to spy on the people and put down riots and rebellions. He suspected some gear originally intended for the armies on the Portal planets had been diverted to whatever defensive forces his enemies had managed to assemble to face his people. But he also knew, for all the resources at its disposal, UNGov couldn’t match the battle experience of his warriors. And they had spent a fortune creating the Black Corps, resources that did not go into raising earthbound armies. That investment was now lost, not a single soldier left. Taylor’s people had an uphill fight, no doubt. But the more he thought about it, the more a small spark of a thought formed deep in his mind. They had a chance…a real chance.
“So it’s a race then? Can we get our vehicles and airships built in time…or will the enemy get a shot at all of it while it’s still sitting around in crates?” Daniels had a way of keeping things brutally succinct.
Taylor was used to his friend’s blunt mannerisms, but he couldn’t hold back a wince as he thought of his priceless Tegeri technology being blown to bits before it was even assembled. “Hank, I want you to go over there. They’ve really got to pick up the pace and get these things in the field.”
“You got it, Jake.” There was a twinge to his voice that made Taylor smile. He couldn’t imagine a better kick in the ass to get things done than having Hank Daniels hovering around scowling.
Chapter 9
UNGov Worldwide Media Broadcast:
I have just received word in the studio that Secretary-General Samovich himself will address the world in the aftermath of these terrible attacks. The Secretary-General will be live in just a moment, but before we cut to him, I would like to take the chance to recap for viewers just tuning in. Over an approximate twelve-hour period, eighteen government installations around the world were attacked by terrorist groups acting in an apparently coordinated manner. The attackers targeted major institutions in the world’s largest cities, and they appear to have timed their strikes to cause maximum casualties, not only to UNGov staff, but to citizens conducting business at the facilities. The death toll exceeds 41,000, mostly clerical workers and others employed at the various sites…as well as over 1,000 children in a special school at the London UNGov building.
The Secretariat has been in emergency session formulating a response to these wonton acts of destruction, and around the world, UNGov field teams have been working around the clock, tending to the wounded and counseling the loved ones of those lost. It is indeed a black day for the entire world, one which causes us all to imagine just what kind of evil exists among us, the terrible monsters who lash out at our noble experiment in world government, heedless of the death and suffering caused by their unbridled extremism.
And now, Secretary-General Anton Samovich, live from UNGov headquarters i
n Geneva…
Anton Samovich walked into the massive studio, his eyes darting back and forth, watching the staff run around in a barely controlled frenzy. They were shocked, certainly…and scared too. In forty years of UNGov rule there had never been a domestic crisis like the one that had unfolded over the past sixteen hours. The media was just another tentacle in UNGov’s massive machine, and now it was in full operation, making certain the billions of people in the world came to the ‘correct’ conclusions about the Resistance’s attacks.
Samovich was still a little shaken himself, though he’d been a master politician long enough to hide whatever he was feeling, and to any who looked at him, he appeared totally in control. He’d been worried enough about Taylor and his army, focused on that danger almost to the point of obsession, but now he realized he had another problem, a domestic one. He’d been shocked enough when he’d gotten word of the first attack, but a few minutes later his aides returned with word of a second, and then a third. Within twelve hours, reports had streamed in from around the world, and by the time it was over, there had been no fewer than eighteen incidents. UNGov facilities all around the world had been targeted by coordinated groups, and for the most part, obliterated.
His first reaction had been rage. For years he’d driven his internal security units hard, giving them more and more power—searches, seizures, field judgments, summary executions…anything to maintain control, to prevent exactly the sort of thing that had just happened. He knew there was still an active underground, but he’d considered them to be a few holdouts, able to gather occasionally and complain about UNGov, but without any real capabilities. But in a few hours that theory had been proven completely wrong. The rebels had access to powerful explosives, and enough intelligence to gain entry to sensitive facilities. He still doubted the traitors had the power to threaten the government in any real way, but they’d certainly had enough to create a worldwide incident. One they expected would draw attention to their cause. But the Secretary-General had no intention of allowing their actions to increase their support. Quite the contrary, he had every intention of turning it all against them…and he didn’t have a doubt the masses would buy everything he told them…and ‘showed’ them.
