by Jay Allan
He looked down with a start, realizing there were a lot more rebels than the three or four he’d been told to expect. They were strung out along the stairs, which gave his people a chance. Maybe.
He saw one of the Resistance fighters drop…then another. He’d had the advantage of surprise, but it didn’t last long. There were two rebels down, but now the return fire was heavy. He heard one of his troopers yell, followed by a thud…and the sound of a body rolling down the stairs.
He kept moving forward, ducking back against the wall, out of the enemy’s line of sight. He knew the rebels were just below him…each side pinning the other in place. Whoever moved forward would be right in his enemy’s line of fire.
He sucked in a deep breath, feeling the sweat pouring down his back. He was terrified, and he had no idea what to do. He glanced quickly behind him. Two of his people were still with him. Aames and Olsen were crouched down right behind him, covering the stairs just below. Heaton was dead, or at least he looked dead. And Gomez and Dougherty had taken off.
If I get out of here those two are going to die…
He leaned back against the wall, holding his rifle out, covering the section of stairs opposite him. It was a standoff. All he could do was hope help got there and retook the building before the rebels decided to try and force his position.
He was still thinking that when he saw the flash of action from below…and he heard something bouncing around on the floor down a quarter flight from where he sat.
“Grenade!” he yelled, an instant before the explosion. The shockwave slammed him against the wall, and he felt searing pain as bits of hot shrapnel dug into his legs, his midsection. He fell back on the stairs, and his rifle rolled down, out of reach. He was dazed, in pain, grabbing for his pistol when he saw the shadowy figure above him. He looked with a start as he saw the long gray hair, the wrinkled, worn face. It was an old man, not what he’d expected. He was still confused when he saw the gun in the man’s hand…pointed toward him.
* * *
“Are we ready yet?” Rod Charles was nervous, edgy. The firefight in the stairwell had been a surprise, one that cost them three of their comrades, including Carson Jones. He wasn’t dead, not yet. But Charles knew the rebel wasn’t going to live either, not without a hospital. He’d done all he could to stabilize his new ally, but he didn’t see how they were going to get the critically-wounded man the medical assistance he needed.
But the attack meant more than losses…it meant UNGov knew they were there. Wickes had hoped they’d get at least an hour before the UNGov forces realized they’d taken control of the building. But clearly that wasn’t going to be. And that made time even more of the essence.
“Just a minute, Captain.” Devon Bell was hunched over a workstation, his fingers rapping quickly on the keys. “Go get on the stage. I’ll have you live in sixty seconds.”
Charles nodded, glancing around the large room before he walked over to the podium his comrades had hastily moved into position. There were about a dozen members of the usual staff, tied up and sitting along the far wall, guarded by two of the Resistance fighters. Another two stood guard over the only entrance to the studio, and Carson Jones was lying on a large sofa, covered with a makeshift blanket and drifting in and out of consciousness. Wickes was next to Charles, and he put his arm on the AOL captain’s shoulder. The old Marine had caught a round in the fight on the stairs, but he’d just tied an old rag around his arm and, as well as Charles could tell, he was simply ignoring it.
Wickes had sent rest of the Resistance fighters, fourteen of them, to help defend the building. Four of them were on their way down to the lobby to reinforce the three men already there. With the attack on the stairs it seemed likely they’d face an assault on the building a lot sooner than they’d expected. The others were hunting the rest of the UNGov troops, the ones who’d run…and any others that might be hiding somewhere, planning something.
“Alright, Captain…and Captain…we’re ready.” Bell motioned toward the podium, and Wickes and Charles walked over, standing next to each other and looking into the small globe that would transmit their broadcast throughout North America.
“Okay, Dev,” Wickes said softly. “Let’s do this.”
The studio had no windows, but Charles knew it was morning now…perhaps not as good a time for a live broadcast as early evening, but millions of UNGov citizens would be watching the morning broadcast. It was usually full of UN propaganda, and people were strongly encouraged to tune in.
“We’re connected to all relays. You’re live now throughout North America.”
Wickes cleared his throat. “My fellow citizens, I am Captain Stanley Wickes, United States Marine Corps, retired. I am also a member of the New York City Resistance, a rebel group struggling to overthrow UNGov. We have taken control of the state media facility in New York so we could broadcast this message to all of you. For too many years we have lived under the iron fist of UNGov control, endured the censorship, the draconian regulations, the poverty and lack of opportunity. We have seen friends and neighbors dragged off in the night…and tried our best to look the other way. For too many years we have done nothing. Those of you who are my age remember something different, freedom, liberty. Your children have never known this wonder…your grandchildren never will. Unless we do something.”
Wickes turned and looked at Charles. “And now I wish to introduce Captain Roderick Charles. The captain is an officer of the Army of Liberation. These are our soldiers, men who were conscripted and sent off-world, never to return. They are brave warriors who have been libeled, slandered by UNGov’s propaganda machine. They are the friends and brothers and sons many of us thought lost to us forever, sent through the Portals to fight the Tegeri. These brave and honorable soldiers were accused of terrible crimes by UNGov. We were told they murdered their comrades, that they allied with the enemy to enslave mankind. But this is nothing but lies…lies from those who truly enslave mankind, who have done so for forty years. Captain Charles and his comrades have come back to Earth to free its people, to cleanse us of the unclean government that has ruled with brutality and tyranny.” Wickes paused and took a breath. “And Captain Charles has something else to say, a truth long hidden, and one all men and women must hear. Listen to what he has to say…and then spread the word, makes sure all know the truth of this war.”
Charles looked right at the camera. “Hello, North America. I am Captain Rod Charles. I am one of you, was one of you, at least. Long ago. I was born in New York City, in the Bronx. In the kind of neighborhood some of you would recognize only by description. It was—is—a violent place, an area where people died every day. That is where I was born. It was where I grew up.
“Eleven years ago I was arrested because I was walking home when a food riot broke out. Two federal security troopers were attacked, and in the response, over a hundred civilians were killed. I was wounded, shot in the leg…and I was arrested and charged with assaulting federal officers, though I was nowhere near where the two troopers were attacked. I was given a choice…twenty years at hard labor, or I could ‘volunteer’ for the off-planet military, and repay my debt to society by helping to defend Earth.”
“I agreed to join the military, to do my part to keep Earth…my family, my friends, safe. I went through training, and then I shipped out, stepping through the Portal, leaving the home world I thought I would never see again. I was despondent at leaving my family, but at least I was serving a noble purpose. At least I believed that I was…and it was years before I discovered how terribly wrong I had been. But finally, so many years later, I learned the truth…as I am about to tell all of you…”
Chapter 22
From the Writings of Jinto Akawa:
I will never forgot my first impression of General Taylor. There is something about the man, some inner strength, a power that is irresistible. When I look back on the war his people waged against UNGov I cannot help but wonder at the odds…at the crazy fluke of histo
ry that placed a man with his unique abilities at the right place and time. I later learned that the Tegeri had long sought a contact, a man who could lead his people to freedom. As with so many others in his army, I began as his enemy…and now I stand behind him, my loyalty and admiration absolute. I once tried to fight Jake Taylor, to destroy him. Now I would die for him.
“General Akawa, I must confess, I find your proposal surprising coming from a UNGov official of such senior position. I would expect you to be willing to do anything to see us defeated.” Taylor sat across the table from Akawa, his best poker face rigidly in place despite the uncertainty and confusion he felt.
“I am not a senior UNGov official, General…or at least I wasn’t until three weeks ago when Secretary-General Samovich promoted me from a staff colonel to the supreme command.”
“And why would he do that, General?” Taylor was suspicious, but something inside him was telling him Akawa was different. He didn’t necessarily trust the general yet, but he wanted to hear what the man had to say.
“I really don’t know, General Taylor. If you pressed me for an answer, I’d say that faced with the very real danger of your invasion he didn’t trust the political appointees who dominate the high command on Earth. As I said before, I am not a political officer. I am career Earth military, though I had never served in combat before, as you and your soldiers have.”
“Why would you surrender to Colonel MacArthur the way you did?”
“Because I believed it was the quickest way I could think of to see you. It would have been difficult to contact you over the com system without our conversation being…overheard. Also, I felt that placing my trust in you that way would be a show of my good faith.”
Taylor nodded. “And you want to surrender your entire army?”
“Yes, General. Provided certain conditions are met.”
“You’re not in a particularly strong bargaining position, General Akawa. You are already my prisoner.”
“That is true. You can obviously do with me as you will. But I will not help you capture the rest of my forces, not unless I am satisfied they will be well-treated.”
Taylor looked across the table. He found his respect for this UNGov officer growing.
He’s concerned about his troops, about their safety…
“I’m afraid there may be little I can offer you in that regard, General. I would be more than willing to guarantee the safety of the conscripts in your force, the men who had been drafted for the planetary armies and then redeployed to face us. But UNGov enforcement units were also assigned to your army. These…soldiers…” He spat the word like it tasted bad. “…have spent their careers abusing civilians, dragging people to reeducation camps. They are part of what we came to destroy, and I have every intention of seeing that done.”
Akawa sat silently, looking down at the table. Finally, he nodded and looked back at Taylor. “Will you give me your word than none of my soldiers who were not previously UNGov enforcers will be harmed? And that any who are accused of such will be accorded some kind of due process to ensure no innocents are blamed and punished?”
Taylor returned Akawa’s gaze, trying to take his measure of the man. Finally he said, “Yes, General. I will give you my word on that. It has grieved me terribly that so many soldiers were killed in the fighting of the last week. Those conscripts swept up into your army are no different than I am, than any of my soldiers. They are victims, and now twice so for those killed fighting for an unjust cause. I would see them know the truth, be spared any more servitude to unjust masters. Will you help me save them? I have offered you all I can in return.”
Akawa nodded. “Yes, General. I will help you. But there is little time. I expect to be relieved any moment now, and we must conclude a surrender before then. I will need to go back, to get to my headquarters to issue the orders. And you will have to have your troops ready…no doubt, some of the UNGov enforcers in the ranks will resist.”
Akawa stared at Taylor. “I have trusted you, General, placed myself entirely at your mercy. Now you must decide if you trust me.”
* * *
Magnus Jarn sat quietly in the back of the transport. He hadn’t said more than a few words since the convoy left Geneva. General Volkes sat across from him, but Jarn’s single word answers to his questions had shut the general up after a few attempts at conversation. Jarn didn’t have the temperament for pointless chatter. He had a job to do, and that’s why he was here. He was to apprehend General Akawa, and summarily execute the disgraced general. A simple task. He was clearing the way for Volkes to take command, but he wasn’t under the general’s authority—he reported directly to Secretary-General Samovich. Which made the relationship between the general and him essentially sharing a ride.
Jarn was a cold man. He’d always been that way, but twenty years as an Inquisitor had only increased those tendencies. His job was one only a few people could do well. Casual brutality was easy for many, but an Inquisitor had to have complete control. It was the job that always ruled, not pointless cruelty. People looked at Inquisitors and they saw the terror, the shadow of UNGov’s most feared enforcers. But the job required thought, patience, intelligence…and a willingness to do whatever was necessary to complete the mission.
The mission, a simple execution, didn’t seem like anything that required UNGov’s top Inquisitor, but Jarn had been ordered here by the Secretary-General in person. That made it important enough. Jarn had initially planned to bring just two of his people, but Samovich had insisted he take his entire team. There were a dozen transports, filled with over one hundred operatives. All to take one disgraced general out into the woods and shoot him.
“We should be there shortly,” General Volkes said, breaking about half an hour of silence Jarn had thoroughly enjoyed.
“Yes,” he replied. One word answers had worked so far, and he saw no reason to change his tactics. Besides, Volkes was right. They were almost there…and that meant it was time to prepare himself. It was an easy job, but that didn’t mean there was no danger. No doubt, General Akawa had surrounded himself with at least a few loyal soldiers. Jarn had always been surprised how many of the condemned went along without resistance, but some put up a fight. And if Akawa and a few of his officers preferred death in a gunfight to execution, so be it. Jarn and his people would be ready to oblige.
He glanced over at Volkes, the man who would take over the wreckage of the army. Would he do better than Akawa had?
Or will he be my next mission?
* * *
Akawa stepped out of the transport, the snow crunching under his boot. He walked toward the shelter that housed his office. At least he thought it was still his. No one had challenged him as he’d driven back into camp, so it seemed like he was still in command.
Good, he thought. That will make things easier.
He glanced back at the column of transports. The makeshift convoy had not been questioned—one of the advantages of having the C in C in the front vehicle. But Akawa knew there were a dozen of Taylor’s Supersoldiers in each. He wasn’t sure how much they were here to back him up…and how much to make sure he kept his word, but either way, he’d just snuck an enemy force into army headquarters. If the orders for his relief—and likely, his execution too—hadn’t been issued yet, this would do the trick, he was sure.
“Major Forbin,” he snapped as he leapt from the transport, “I want Colonels Elmsford and Chin to report to my office immediately.” Akawa considered the two colonels to be his best officers. There were a dozen other generals in the army, but they were all political officers. People he couldn’t trust. People Jake Taylor wouldn’t pardon.
“Sir…” The major’s voice was soft, distracted. Akawa knew immediately that something was wrong.
“What is it, Major,” he snapped.
“Sir, a convoy just arrived…ah…it is…”
“General Jinto Akawa…” Another voice, darker, grimmer. “…I am Inquisitor Magnus Jarn. I hereby infor
m you that, effective immediately, you are relieved of command. You are further instructed to accompany me.” The hulking figure extended an arm, gesturing toward a nearby transport.
Akawa felt a ripple of fear move through him. Just a few more hours, he thought…and we might have pulled this off…
“I’d like to see those orders, Inquisitor.” He was playing for time, trying to think of what to do. Anything…“It’s not that I don’t trust…”
“What you would like is of little account, I’m afraid.” The Inquisitor pulled a large pistol from his belt. Akawa could see half a dozen men behind Jarn, all of them armed. “I will repeat myself only once, Mr. Akawa. You are to come with me immediately.”
Akawa noted the ‘mister,’ that the Inquisitor had dropped his military rank.
My former rank…
He nodded, not wanting to risk any escalation. He didn’t doubt the Inquisitor was here to kill him, but if he was fated to die, at least he could buy a chance for the men Taylor had sent with him to escape. He understood now, far better than he had before. Taylor’s soldiers were Earth’s best hope…and most of his own troops belonged at the side of the invaders, not fighting them. If he’d had more time…but there was no point in such thoughts. He didn’t have the time. He would go, follow the Inquisitor to whatever place he chose as the execution spot…and he would hope with his last thoughts that Taylor’s soldiers escaped…