by Jay Allan
Akawa opened his mouth, but he closed it again.
“What is it, General? You may speak freely with me.”
Akawa hesitated. Then he said, “It’s just that…” His voice was nervous, tentative.
“That?”
“When I first met you, I saw the freedom fighter in you, the man struggling to bring liberty to a world. But when you speak in such absolute, merciless terms…you seem more like those you wish to destroy.”
Taylor nodded. “And you were scared to say that to me…but I let you speak, and I have no anger at your words. Ask yourself how Secretary-General Samovich would respond in my shoes.”
Akawa looked back silently. Finally, he just nodded.
“And there is one other difference, General,” Taylor said. “UNGov seeks to acquire power, to rule over mankind. It does what it does to attain and keep that power. I seek to destroy a great evil. I have no desire to take Samovich’s place, no intention of becoming a dictator. Once I have destroyed UNGov, I will…”
“You will what, General?” Akawa interrupted. “You will kill every government official of any significant rank and then walk off into the sunset? Is that what you would bequeath to the world? Anarchy? Brutal power struggles? How long before people start dying by the thousands? The millions? A week? Less? UNGov is evil, I have no argument with that. But are you any better? If you destroy it as thoroughly as you intend to do and you do not put something in its place, you will be responsible for the deaths of more innocents that UNGov has killed in forty years.”
Taylor didn’t reply. He just sat opposite Akawa, silent. He knew the general only spoke the truth. It was something he’d realized all along but suppressed. A realization he simply could not bear to consider. But now he was close to the victory that had seemed only a dream four years before. He knew he would have to step in, to take control until a legitimate government could be formed to take UNGov’s place. The thought of it made him sick to his stomach.
I don’t have time for this, not now. He pushed it back, drove the thoughts from his mind.
“I will see that the UNGov personnel among your people get fair trials. Those who have not killed innocent civilians, who have not used their power to terrify and intimidate the people…they will not die. The others will pay for what they have done.
Akawa nodded. “That is fair, General Taylor.” He stood up and extended his hand. “I pledge you my continued support…to the end.”
Taylor nodded. “I am glad to have you, Gen…”
“Jake!” Hank Daniels burst into the room. “You’ve got to see this.” He hit a switch, turned on the large display in the room.
Anton Samovich filled the screen. He had an odd look, not at all the cool, composed figure Taylor had seen lying about the murders of twenty-thousand Earth soldiers weeks earlier. His expression was distorted and his eyes were wide open, almost glittering in the light. Taylor watched and one thought went through his mind. He is insane.
“You share the guilt in this, all of you,” Samovich said. “You have failed to support your government. You have allowed rebels and traitors to threaten the established order. And now you must all pay the price. UNGov is the legitimate government of Earth, and it will never yield to insurrection. And the time has come for drastic measures.”
Taylor got a cold feeling in his stomach. He had no idea what Samovich was talking about, but he knew it would be bad. He glanced over at Akawa, silently inquiring if he had an idea, but the former UNGov general just shook his head.
“And now, I have a message for you, General Taylor, as I have no doubt you are watching this broadcast. I am certain you believe you have defeated Earth’s legitimate government, that your band of murderers and traitors have prevailed. But UNGov is not so easily vanquished. There is a security program, a resource of last resort, put in place forty years ago against the possibility that a rebellious city could threaten the new world order. That program remains in place.
“Under each of Earth’s cities there is a secret chamber, one containing a number of high-yield nuclear warheads. They were placed there to allow the destruction of a city in revolt from spreading its dangerous disorder to other locations. But now I have activated the entire system. In twelve hours, every one of these caches will be detonated, resulting in the complete destruction of every city in the world.”
Taylor stared at the screen, his eyes fixed on Samovich, unable to avert his gaze for even a moment. For years he had planned the destruction of UNGov, raged at the evils of Earth’s government…but this was beyond anything he’d imagined. His mind raced, seeking for a solution, a way out. But there was nothing. Nothing but the sounds of the madman on the screen.
“Twelve hours, General Taylor. You have twelve hours to surrender your forces, to disarm and submit yourselves to be tried for your crimes. If you do not comply, the deaths of billions will rest with you. Your treason, your refusal to submit, will bring mankind to the verge of extinction.”
Taylor felt tightness in his chest. He’d been so focused, so determined. And now he had no idea what to do. And no time…
“And just to prove this is no idle threat, in one hour I will destroy a single city, a demonstration of the power of this final defensive system.”
No, Taylor thought…no…
“And to the people of Earth…it is your duty to remain in your homes, to serve your part in this strategy to defeat the invaders. All cities are under surveillance…and any signs of a mass exodus will result in the immediate detonation of a city’s explosives. If you flee, you will die. Stand firm, stay put, and serve your government.”
Samovich turned and walked away. A few seconds later, the transmission ceased.
Taylor turned and looked around the room, exchanging glances with everyone present. Finally, he locked eyes with Hank Daniels, the most fervent of his inner circle. But Daniels looked as lost as Taylor, shocked by what he had just seen, unsure what to do.
Taylor knew surrender meant death…for him and for all his people. He’d sworn hundreds of times that mankind must pay for its foolishness in allowing UNGov to come to power. But how much of a price could humanity pay? How much could he allow it to pay? He’d realized, in his nightmares if nowhere else, that many would die in the climax of the crusade, perhaps even millions. But billions? Most of the population of the world, blasted out of existence in the fires of nuclear death?
No…I can’t.
He felt despair as he had never before imagined. He’d considered the possibility of losing, of being defeated by UNGov. But yielding? Surrendering meekly and allowing Earth’s masters to continue to rule. To face execution…or whatever terrible fate awaited him, and to watch his friends and comrades go through the same thing.
Better I had never lived at all, he thought, distraught, miserable. Better if T’arza and his people had killed me that day…
* * *
Wickes ejected the spent clip and slammed another in place. Then he opened fire, dashing for the steps as he did. He’d dropped four security troopers, and the others had pulled back, through the door. One of them was at the edge of the doorway, returning his fire from cover.
Stalemate.
His resistance had served its purpose. His people were all down in the subway tunnels by now. It was just a few minutes’ head start, but it was something, all he could give them. There was no guarantee, but he’d bought them all a chance…which was more than they had fighting it out in the cellar.
His wounded arm was giving him trouble. He’d ignored it at first, but now it throbbed, and he found it difficult to keep his mind focused. He’d lost blood, not enough to be life-threatening, not yet at least. But he felt his strength slipping away. He’d stayed behind the crates and held his position for as long as he could, but he only had one clip left. If he was going to make a run for it, now was the time.
He considered staying, a last stand, a fight to the death, but the truth was, there was no point. He wouldn’t hold long with one clip, a
nd that meant staying was throwing his life away. He’d sacrifice himself if he had to, for victory or to buy his people their escape. But the Marine in him wouldn’t let him give up…and sacrificing himself for a few more seconds, making no attempt to get away…that would be giving up.
He jumped down the opening in the floor, grabbing hold of the creaking rail as he leapt half way down the stairs in a single bound. He’d spun his head around as he dropped, taking a last glance at the room. He’d surprised the enemy…none of them had burst into the room yet. But they wouldn’t be fooled for more than a few seconds. He had a headstart of his own, but his was measured in seconds, not minutes.
He almost stumbled as he leapt down the wreck of a staircase, feeling the impact of the concrete floor vibrate up his body. His injured arm radiated pain. He felt his legs almost buckle, but he struggled and managed to stay on his feet. He ran toward the half-collapsed wall, jumping over chunks of shattered concrete, crawling through the opening and out into the half-flooded subway tunnel.
He turned instinctively at the sound of shooting behind him, but then he swung around and ran down the tunnel, splashing wildly as he did.
It’s over. They’re right behind me.
He looked around the tunnel, his eyes seeking anywhere to go but straight. There was some old equipment, now little more than debris. But it was cover of a sort, so he made for it.
He heard the gunfire behind him, louder, more of it.
What the hell are they shooting at?
He ducked behind the broken metal carcass of what looked like a part of a train carriage, and he turned and looked back. Nothing. Just more gunfire, still from inside the passage, muffled now with more distance.
He pulled up his rifle, ready to spend his last shots as well as possible, to take as many of the enemy down with him as he could. But nothing came. Then he saw movement, slow, cautious. His finger tightened.
“Resistance fighters…”
The voice echoed off the walls of the tunnel.
Wickes was surprised. He didn’t expect the UNGov security to give the rebels a chance to surrender, not after the losses their comrades had taken. But he had no intention of being taken prisoner…and seeing the inside of a UNGov interrogation chamber.
“Resistance fighters, do not fire,” the voice continued. “I am Lieutenant Davis Stevenson, Army of Liberation. We’re here to get your people to safety.”
Chapter 24
From the Journal of Jake Taylor:
When I embarked on this quest, I swore to myself I would bring all the guilty to justice, that I was sweep the world clean like some avenging angel. And through all the battle, the terrible loss, I never wavered in that resolution. I have sacrificed friends, thousands of my soldiers…I have endured pain and devoted all I have to the fight. And in the end, even my own convictions. For I had refused to deal with UNGov and its corrupt minions…until a deal with the devil became the only way to save four billion human beings.
Drogov stared out from behind the brush, looking out at Taylor’s camp. He’d planned the approach for days, taking every detail into account. Evading the AOL’s Supersoldiers was a major undertaking, but Alexi Drogov had been a master of covert ops for thirty years. Of course, his preparations had been intended to get him close enough to kill Taylor. Now he planned to get even closer.
He’d snuck as far as he could, and now he was ready for the final tactic of his approach…surrendering. He could have done that kilometers out, but there was no guarantee some sergeant on picket duty or junior officer commanding a patrol would have listened to him and brought him to General Taylor. He would solve that problem by surrendering to Taylor himself. Now.
He saw the general step out of the shelter he used as an office. It was time. He stepped right out of the woods, his hands extended well above his head. He walked slowly, taking care not to make any sudden moves. Taylor’s soldiers were good, and it wouldn’t take more than an instant’s overreaction for them to gun him down. He wouldn’t do anything that could be perceived as threatening.
“General Taylor,” he yelled. “I am one of Secretary-General Samovich’s chief lieutenants. And I wish to surrender to you.”
“Freeze,” one of the guards shouted. In an instant, half a dozen rifles were leveled, all pointing right at Samovich. Four soldiers were running toward him.
“I am here to surrender,” he repeated, taking care to keep his arms in the air. “I am unarmed.” He’d found it difficult to leave his guns behind. Drogov customarily managed to take a weapon with him wherever he went, the shower, a sexual encounter…anywhere. But since he’d decided to parlay with Taylor instead of killing him, he knew the weapons could only get him killed.
A dozen guards ran toward him, grim looks on their faces and weapons at the ready. Two of them grabbed him roughly and forced him to the ground. It took all his restraint not to fight back, to let the natural killer inside him out. But he knew what he had to do.
The guards searched him…twice. Then he felt four hands on him, pulling him back up to his feet. And Jake Taylor was standing two meters from him.
“You wanted to see me? You seem to know who I am…I’m afraid you have the advantage.”
“My name is Alexi Drogov, General.”
“Well, Alexi Drogov, would you mind telling me why you are in my camp? And how you got here without being spotted?” Taylor’s voice wasn’t hostile, but Drogov had the sense there was menace there.
Be careful with this man…
“I am here to see you on a matter of extreme urgency. And I was able to get here unseen because…that is what I do.”
Taylor shook his head and began to turn around. “I’m sorry, Mr. Drogov, but I’m afraid I have a crisis to deal with and no time for riddles.” He turned toward an officer standing next to the guards. “Put him in one of the cells…and…”
“General, your crisis is the reason I am here. To help you with it.”
Taylor turned back toward Drogov. “Help me with what?”
“With stopping Anton Samovich from destroying every city on Earth.”
Taylor’s expression turned deadly serious. “How do you know about that?”
“I have been Secretary-General Samovich’s senior operative for thirty years.”
The guards tensed, and the ones flanking Drogov moved between him and Taylor.
“It’s okay, boys,” Taylor said, his eyes locked on Drogov’s. “Stand back.” To Drogov: “You’ve been Samovich’s henchmen…his murderer…for thirty years, and you think there is any way I would ever trust you?”
Drogov returned Taylor’s gaze. “No, I don’t expect you to trust me.”
“Then what makes you think I’d listen to anything you have to say?”
Drogov stood stone still, his voice deadpan. “Because you have three choices, General. You can surrender…and I assure you if you do, the Secretary-General will show no mercy, not to you nor to any of your people, regardless of any promises he makes to you. You can refuse Anton’s demand and watch four billion people die in a matter of minutes.” He glared right into Taylor’s eyes. “Or you can let me help you stop it all.”
* * *
“The trip to Boston is less than forty minutes at full speed. The Resistance there is throwing everything they’ve got at the UNGov enforcers. But four airships and almost fifty more fighters will make a big difference.” Charles was animated, upbeat. New York was as good as liberated from UNGov control. His people had come to link up with family and old acquaintances, to try and work from the ground up. But now they had driven UNGov out of one city, and they were on the way to do the same thing to another. He’d left a few of his people behind in New York at the media center, trying to hijack a UNGov satellite and report back to army headquarters. He knew the AOL had won a victory of some kind, that much he’d been able to glean from media reports and classified UNGov documents his people had found. But as far as he knew, General Taylor had no idea that North America was virtually in
open revolt.
Wickes was sitting in the chair next to Charles. He looked tired and in pain, his arm freshly bandaged and held up in a makeshift sling. But there was no mistaking the satisfaction in his voice. “I want to thank you again, Captain. Your people saved my life last night.”
“They saved mine too,” Charles said, smiling. “A few minutes later and we’d have all been dead.” He glanced down at Wickes’ arm. “Are you sure you shouldn’t have stayed behind, gotten some rest?”
“What, this?” Wickes held his arm up, wincing a bit as he did. “No way,” he said, his tone becoming serious. “I’m old, I know that, and I’m beaten up and exhausted. But I’ve been fighting my whole life for this moment. I’ll be with you every step of the way. First New York, then Boston…then all of North America.”
Charles smiled and nodded. “Sound like a pl…”
A blinding light flashed through the cockpit. Charles blinked and he jumped up from his chair, moving toward the front of the flyer. “What the hell was that?”
The airship pitched hard to the side, slamming him into the far wall as alarms began sounding. The ship flipped over, Charles and half the other occupants thrown into the wall and the ceiling hard.
Charles felt a sharp pain in his leg, another in his side. He lay on the floor as the ship stopped pitching. “What the fuck was that?” he asked, trying to get up but falling back down again as a sharp pain ripped through his body.
“Holy shit,” the pilot said, staring out the cockpit. He was struggling with the controls, trying to keep the flyer steady.
