Portal Wars: The Trilogy

by Jay Allan

  Samovich felt a surge of adrenalin. “And?”

  “We just got word, sir. They are emerging from a previously unknown Portal on Juno.”

  “Thank you, Colonel.” A smile crept on Samovich’s lips as he cut the line and punched in another connect code. Juno was just two transits from Earth. The Black Corps could be there in a matter of days. “Colonel Patel, it is time. You are to assemble the Black Corps at dawn and prepare for immediate transit. Taylor’s army has just emerged on Juno.”

  Chapter 6

  From the Journal of Jake Taylor:

  When I was a kid, I used to get a strange feeling whenever a blizzard was coming. My mother used to tease me about it, and my brother and sister used to tell me I was crazy. But I knew it was real. Whatever the weather report said, my instinct was always right. I could never explain it, or even describe the feeling very well. But it was always there in my gut, right before the storm.

  I almost forgot what snow was in my years on Erastus, the idea of a blizzard slipping away like some distant memory that no longer seems real. I may have grown up in the chilly hills of New Hampshire, but I truly came of age in the sunbaked hell of Gehenna, and my childhood memories of winter storms and snowball fights slowly faded away to shadows.

  I hadn’t thought of that feeling in years, not until the other night. I had it again. I almost didn’t recognize it after all these years, but then I realized what it was. I talked to the weather team, but they told me there was no chance of a storm. None at all.

  But I am still troubled. My feeling was never wrong before, and I don’t expect this to be the first time. There is some kind of storm coming, a big one. I can feel it. I don’t know what it is, but it will be here soon.

  “Attention all personnel serving in the formation currently known as UN Force Juno. This is General Jake Taylor, commander of the Army of Liberation.” They’d changed the name, part of an overall attempt to recruit more personnel from the planetary armies. Every man who came over to their side wasn’t just a soldier added to the cause – it was one fewer they had to kill, one less weight on their consciences. Taylor hated anything that seemed like propaganda, but he couldn’t argue that recruitments were up sharply since the first encounter on Alantris. I will use the tools of my enemy, he thought, to destroy him.

  Taylor stood on the smooth ground in front of the main headquarters tent. He clutched the amulet T’arza had given him in his left hand as he spoke. The alien device had turned out to be much more than just a short-ranged projection system. Indeed, its reach was at least planetwide, and its power was enormous. It was the mechanism Taylor used to communicate with the planetary armies, and the signal it generated burned right through any jamming attempts.

  Taylor finished his speech, the same one he’d used on the other worlds. He’d refined it a bit here and there as he’d become a better propagandist, but the essence remained the same. He was telling them all the truth, sharing with them the bitter realizations that had come to him when he was a captive in T’arza’s underground complex on Erastus. It all made sense once you understood, but it was a lot to accept so abruptly. He was stripping the soldiers of Juno of the one thing that made sense in their lives, tearing away the solace they drew from the belief that their sacrifices were protecting Earth from a terrifying enemy. It was a harsh reality he was delivering, but one he knew every soldier on the Portal worlds needed to know.

  He was hopeful as he finished speaking and signed off. The drone reports suggested the army on Juno was large, over 25,000. Perhaps 5,000 of them, or even 10,000 would come over. Taylor felt a rare flush of optimism.

  “You’re getting good at that, Jake.” Black smiled and nodded to his friend. “I almost believed you this time.” He winked at Taylor and let a short chuckle escape his lips.

  Taylor nodded. “Let’s hope. Every one of them that comes over is one less we have to fight.” One less we have to put in a grave, he thought, but didn’t say.

  “Yep.” Black glanced back toward the spot where Taylor had made his speech. “We should know soon enough. I’ll launch a flight of drones in an hour. We may be able to get some idea of movements from their bases.”

  Taylor nodded. He knew it was more than just convincing a few troopers he was telling the truth – he had to reach a critical mass of sorts. It took enormous courage for a soldier to walk out of a base alone, abandoning his post because he realized the cause for which he fought was a bad one. If only a few scattered troopers tried to leave, they might be detained by the other men, prevented from simply walking away from their positions. Many of those who believed Taylor’s words would still refuse to leave their comrades behind, and they would be hesitant to argue out loud for their fellow-troopers to join them in deserting.

  However, if he convinced enough of the soldiers in a given post, the momentum swung the other way. Men would go along, follow their fellow-troopers, even if they were unsure it was the right thing to do. Taylor was telling them the truth, so he was sure he could convince any doubters who came along with their comrades. All he could do was hope he’d reached enough of them to make a difference, to save some lives.

  “Alright, Blackie, you’re in charge.” Taylor started walking back to his tent. “Come get me when the drone reports are in.” In the meantime, he had work to do. He knew the Juno forces weren’t all going to come over…and he had to finish the plan to kill the ones who didn’t.

  * * *

  Lucius Vanderberg stood bolt upright as he addressed the assembly, his scarred face twisted into a vicious scowl. His uniform was jet black, from head to toe, the two small platinum fists on his collar identifying him to all as a UN Inquisitor.

  Few of the soldiers on Juno had ever seen one of UNGov’s top enforcers in person. Most of them had been pressed into offworld service for unpaid taxes or other petty offenses, hardly the kind of thing that got the attention of the likes of Vanderberg. Inquisitors dealt with crimes like sedition and treason, transgressions UNGov took very seriously indeed. Empowered as judge, jury, and executioner, an Inquisitor was a grim figure, one who inspired fear wherever he went. Merciless, pitiless, and relentless, they were the iron fist of UNGov’s control over mankind.

  Vanderberg had arrived a few weeks before Taylor and his people came through the Portal. Anton Samovich had deployed his elite security forces to the various planetary armies, seeking to curb the growing desertions. With Taylor using Portals unknown to the UN forces, there was no way to predict where his people would emerge. So Samovich pulled enough Inquisitors from their normal stations to cover every world currently occupied by UN armies. Vanderberg and his team had drawn Juno.

  The black clad figure stared at the lines of troops standing at rigid attention before him. There was an angry restlessness in the formation, but fear kept any open defiance in check. He turned, looking back at the blood-spattered wall…and the several dozen bodies piled up a few meters away, next to a freshly dug pit.

  “I repeat, no disloyalty will be tolerated in this army. You are UN soldiers, engaged in a virtuous battle against the alien enemy, and you are expected to behave as such.” His voice was cold, emotionless. “All traitors will be dealt with in precisely this manner.” He moved his arm, motioning toward the mass of bodies, as his deputies shoved another ten soldiers toward the wall. The prisoners’ eyes were downcast as they shuffled forward, the shackles on their legs restricting them to tiny steps. They were wearing the brown uniforms of UN Force Juno, but all insignia of rank or unit affiliation had been torn off. They had cuts and bruises all over their arms and faces, the marks of brutal interrogation and harsh captivity.

  They had abandoned their posts, attempted to flee to the enemy after Taylor’s address. A few of their comrades had made it, but most of the escapees were apprehended by Vanderberg’s patrols. Many of them were slaughtered in the field, gunned down where they stood, but the Inquisitor’s orders had been clear. He wanted live prisoners. He wanted to show the rest of the army how he intended
to handle disloyalty.

  The deputies pushed the prisoners against the wall, hooking their arms into the shackles protruding from the bloodstained concrete. A squad of ten of Vanderberg’s men stood silently, watching as the last of the prisoners was chained in place. The squad commander looked back at the Inquisitor, waiting for the order to proceed.

  “Pay close attention, all of you…or you will end up chained to this wall.” He turned to face the squad. “You may proceed, Lieutenant.” His voice was utterly without pity.

  “Detachment, attention!” The lieutenant’s voice was sharp and crisp, like the crack of a whip.

  Vanderberg panned his eyes out over the assembled soldiers. They were restless and angry. The men against the wall were their comrades, whether they had attempted to flee or not. But Vanderberg had kill squads positioned behind the formation, and the soldiers were drawn up without their weapons. Any resistance would be futile. It could only serve to line up more men against that wall.

  “Detachment, ready!” The lieutenant’s eyes were fixed straight forward, staring at the wall, and the ten men chained there, about to die.

  A couple of the condemned men were sobbing softly, but most of them were silent. They stood almost motionless, in a state of shock, confused looks on their faces. They’d been badly beaten in captivity, and many of them were barely aware of what was happening.

  “Aim!” The lieutenant glanced briefly back toward Vanderberg, acknowledging the Inquisitor’s brief nod with one of his own.

  “No! Please, no!” One of the men against the wall broke down and begged for mercy. He lunged forward, but the chains held fast and he fell back, losing his footing. “Please…”

  “Fire!” The lieutenant’s command drowned out the prisoner’s pleas, and the squad opened fire at full auto, the hyper-velocity rounds ripped into the writhing bodies, almost tearing them to shreds. It was over in a few seconds, the ten prisoners dead, their riddled corpses hanging grotesquely by their shackled wrists.

  Vanderberg glared at the lines of troops as a detachment unshackled the bodies and hauled them away. His gaze was a taunt, a dare for them to try something, but they just stood in place. Some were silent, others gently sobbing, but none broke their ranks. Their will to resist was broken.

  “Next group.” Vanderberg’s voice was grim but matter-of-fact. He was ordering the death of ten more men with no more emotion than he might show reading a stack of reports. He was fairly certain he’d made his point, but he was going to be damned sure before he was done. There were another 200 prisoners to go.

  * * *

  “How many?” Taylor’s voice was shrill, stunned. He was usually unflappable, but he couldn’t believe what Black was telling him. He stood motionless in the center of the camp, his mind racing to grasp the data his number two had given him.

  “About 300, Jake.” Black was looking down at his feet as he spoke, his own surprise and disappointment obvious in his tone. He forced himself to look up and make eye contact with Taylor. “That’s it. There’s no other activity, no sign of any other troops moving in our direction.”

  Taylor felt as if he’d been punched in the gut. What had he done? How had he screwed up? They’d gotten thousands of converts on the last two worlds, small percentages of the total forces involved, but considerable numbers nevertheless. Now almost nothing. Something was wrong.

  “We’re still studying the drone data, Jake, but it looks like they’ve pulled back into their primary base areas and abandoned their peripheral positions. With the Machines gone, they’ve buttoned up in the forts near the Portal, and there’s almost no external activity.” Black stood next to Taylor as he spoke. He knew his friend was blaming himself, wondering why so few had responded to his appeal this last time.

  “Jake…it’s nothing you did. We don’t know what’s going on. Maybe they’ve got a strong commander here, and they wouldn’t abandon him. Or a martinet who clamped down hard and prevented most of them from getting away. UNGov might have gotten the word out to the planetary armies, warned them about us.” He paused. “We just don’t know yet. Maybe we’ll have a better idea after we review the rest of the drone footage.”

  Taylor nodded but didn’t say anything. I’m going to have to kill them all, he thought grimly. It had been no different on the last world, not really. About 3,500 troops had surrendered on Tannenberg, but that wasn’t even 20% of the overall forces present. Still, Taylor had drawn solace from 3,500 lives saved, even as he’d massacred the 15,000 who’d remained in the ranks against him. But 300? That was so few there was no comfort to be gained, no way to even lie to himself. He was going to have to destroy the entire army on Juno, all of them.

  “Maybe we’ll get a surge later.” Black’s voice cut through Taylor’s dark thoughts. “It’s still early, Jake.” He managed to sound almost convincing, but Taylor knew his friend didn’t really believe it. Almost all the troops who’d come over on the other worlds had done so almost immediately. Time only gave the commanders on the scene more time to regain control over their soldiers.

  “No.” Taylor’s voice was like ice. “No, Blackie. They had their chance.” He was staring off across the empty plain. “They had their chance…and we have a job to do.” Taylor could feel the change inside him. The conflict was falling away, at least for the moment. Jake Taylor, the man, didn’t matter. His petty guilt and grief were of no account. He was the leader of the Crusade, and the cause was more important than any man…than any 10,000 or 100,000. The future of all Earth’s people hung in the balance. Victory was all that mattered, whatever the cost.

  Black just stood in the middle of the camp, looking back at Taylor but saying nothing. He knew the pressure his friend was under, and he’d seen the conflict inside Taylor, eating him alive. The mood swings, the long periods of introspection. Black knew there were two Jake Taylors fighting for control. The man, the loyal friend and comrade who had served so many years at his side. And the leader, the crusader…the dark psyche forged in the instant Taylor learned the terrible truth about UNGov and the war, a creature of pure duty and vengeance. He wasn’t sure which of them would win the battle for his friend’s soul. The crusader probably had a better chance of winning the war, but Black knew that would be the end of the man who had been his friend. Taylor would be consumed. There would be nothing left of the human being.

  “Let’s get the army moving, Blackie.” Taylor’s voice was cold, precise, completely without doubt or hesitation. The crusader was firmly in control now. “I want Hank Daniel’s people on the move in half an hour.” He was still staring off across the plain. “It’s time to destroy UN Force Juno.”

  * * *

  “Report, General.” Vanderberg’s voice was gruff. He stood under the harsh white light, reading a dispatch on a small tablet as he barked out the command.

  “The enemy force is advancing on our primary base locations.” General Samuelson stood in center of the command bunker, staring at a large display as he made his report. There was fatigue in his voice, and depression. Samuelson wasn’t a conscript; he was a UN appointee like all the planetary commanders. But he had led UN Force Juno for more than ten years, and his loyalty to his men was strong. Watching this UN thug execute over 400 of them had sickened him – and his failure to do anything to prevent it was weighing on his conscience.

  Samuelson took a deep breath as he stared at the main tactical display. “I am going to send ten battalions to set up a defensive line in the White Sand Valley…”

  “Negative,” the Inquisitor interrupted. “You will prepare to defend the inner perimeter…” – Vanderberg paused as he glanced up at the main display and its map of Juno’s close-in firebases – “…along a line from Base Echo-3 to Base Tango-4.”

  Samuelson stared at Vanderberg silently for a few seconds. The Inquisitor’s presence made him nervous and interfered with his concentration. Finally, he cleared his throat and said, “Do you think it is wise to allow them so close to our innermost positions?” T
he line Vanderberg had specified was very close in, less than 100 kilometers from the Portal. Setting the first defensive line there yielded an enormous amount of highly defensible terrain to the enemy.

  Vanderberg sighed, clearly annoyed at the need to explain himself further. “Yes, General, I do believe it is wise, or I wouldn’t have ordered you to do it.” Vanderberg stressed the word ‘ordered,’ emphasizing the fact that UNGov had placed him in command of Samuelson and all his people. “Please allow for the possibility that there are other factors at play, details to which you are not yet privy.”

  The Inquisitor’s arrogance was almost intolerable. Samuelson could feel the surge of anger, his hand twitching. He fought the urge to let it drop to his holster, to pull out his pistol and splatter the brains of the man who had murdered his soldiers all over the control room. Nothing would have pleased him more than putting a bullet between Vanderberg’s smug eyes. But that would be a moment’s satisfaction, followed inevitably by his own death. And UNGov would just send someone else to replace Vanderberg, probably an even harder-nosed SOB.

  “Very well, Inquisitor.” Samuelson felt futility push the rush of anger away, leaving only a deeper fatigue. “Then that is where we will stop them.”

  Vanderberg glanced up again. “Stop them?” There was a trace of amusement in his voice, a mocking tone he made little effort to hide. “You think your men will stop them?” His eyes locked on Samuelson’s. “No, General. Your men will delay them. Briefly. Then they will smash through your lines and advance on the Portal.” Vanderberg looked back down at the tablet, his eyes panning over the dispatch it displayed. “Which is exactly what I want them to do.”

  Chapter 7

  UN Directorate of Internal Security

  Field Report Summary – Secretary’s Eyes Only