by Jay Allan
He followed, gasping at the air, still heavy with debris, but breathable once the door was closed. Then he felt Wickes pulling again, leading him down into the old subway station…and to the long-abandoned tunnel that would lead them to safety. Or whatever passed for safety for a group of rebels, outnumbered and on the run.
Part Two
A World at War
Chapter 8
Jake Taylor’s First Words as He Stepped from the Portal onto Earth:
I have returned. After eighteen years, I have returned. And I wield the bloody sword of vengeance against the wicked.
John MacArthur gripped the airship’s controls tightly, his eyes locked on the scanning display. He was looking at a small dot, a UNGov flyer, one that was heading directly for the AOL’s positions. MacArthur was the army’s overall air commander, and he knew he had no place in the cockpit of a single Dragonfire attack craft. But one ship was all he had, all the army had…at least until the engineers managed to reassemble more. It had been somewhat of a miracle that they’d managed to get even one bird up in less than two days. The Dragonfire was a fiendishly complex piece of machinery, and it had to be completely disassembled to get it through the Portal. But Taylor had urged his technicians on, imploring them to get him some air power as soon as possible. And they’d responded by doing virtually the impossible. By all accounts the second ship would be airborne tomorrow, and another half dozen a day after that.
But tomorrow isn’t the problem, MacArthur thought, staring at the icon on his scanner. The army had been in an uproar when he’d transited through the Portal, with rumors of some spy who’d managed to get off a transmission to UNGov, warning them of the AOL’s arrival. MacArthur was a colonel, part of the army’s command structure and privy to the most confidential information. He knew very well the rumors were far more than that. Though various versions of the story were circulating, it was true that a UNGov operative had snuck away from the advance guard…and managed to send a brief signal before he’d been caught and killed. He’d only had his field com, and it was unlikely there had been anyone in range to receive the fleeting transmission. But Jake Taylor was not a man to take unnecessary chances. The army had been ordered to accelerate the pace of the transit, and the whole thing had turned into an example of barely managed chaos.
For two days the army had labored day and night, units moving into defensive positions, widely-separated from each other as a precaution against nuclear attack. The soldiers had dug and cut trees and erected heavy weapons, as even more of their comrades streamed through the Portal. And for every moment of those two days, MacArthur and the other senior officers had waited each minute, expecting an enemy strike that hadn’t come. Until now.
One flyer wasn’t a strike, not exactly. But it was enough to confirm to UNGov that the AOL was here. MacArthur was jamming the airwaves with every watt of power he could spare, but he knew that didn’t matter. Even if he shot the thing down before it could get off a signal, its failure to return would be its own message. And his jamming would cut off the bird’s homing signal back to base…which meant UNGov already knew something was wrong.
He moved his arm, angling the throttle and bringing the airship around on a direct course for the enemy bird. “Arm air-to-air missiles,” he snapped. “And I want all defensive systems on full.” He knew he had a crack crew, a one-time assembly of airship commanders gathered for this mission, the most experienced personnel he had. Still, he believed in seeing to every detail himself.
“All defensive systems active and under AI control, sir.” A short pause. “Air-to-air missiles one and two armed and ready to launch.”
MacArthur stared at the display, watching the crosshairs move slowly together as the ship’s AI worked on acquiring a target lock.
That ship’s got a good pilot, he thought grimly. I hope all their crews Earthside aren’t that good.
He nudged the thrust again, trying to improve the ship’s position, help the AI get a lock. Then he heard the familiar whine…the lock signal. Fire, he thought to himself as he depressed the trigger, feeling the ship buck slightly as it released the ordnance.
“Reload,” he said, angling the throttle again, closing the distance. He had two missiles in the air, but he was going to fire two more. He had to get that ship.
“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 com
manded.
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 when 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 a
nti-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.