Stars & Empire 2: 10 More Galactic Tales (Stars & Empire Box Set Collection)

by Jay Allan

  “Arm EFAs.” The enhanced fuel-air explosives were an area effect weapon, designed to cover a large section of ground with an intensely hot fireball. The EFA’s were like Napalm on steroids, and they were extremely effective at clearing out sections of a battlefield.

  MacArthur stared straight ahead as his gunboat headed for the approaching enemy. The Machines didn’t panic, at least not the same way humans did. But they could evaluate threats and respond appropriately. They were running now…scattering and trying to flee anywhere they could. It might not be a rout, at least technically, but it damned sure looked like one.

  “Sergeant…” MacArthur didn’t turn to face his gunnery chief, didn’t even move a muscle as he gave the order…he just stared at the enemy survivors 100 meters below helplessly trying to flee the death he was bringing them. “…commence EFA drop.”

  As soon as the last of the ordnance dropped, MacArthur increased the antigrav power, arcing the gunboat up and away from the inferno it had just unleased. The billowing flames reached 100 meters into the sky, and the explosions obliterated everything in an 80 meter wide swath across the plain below. MacArthur checked the scanner. All four of his attacking boats had completed their runs. It was impossible to see anything on the ground but the flames. A wicked smile crossed his lips. He couldn’t imagine how anything could have survived down there.

  “MacArthur to Battalion Command. Attack run complete…destruction total. Raptor Squadron, returning to base.” MacArthur took one last look back at the stricken field. He didn’t like Jake Taylor…he didn’t like him at all. But the man knew how to wage war.

  Chapter 10

  From the Journal of Jake Taylor:

  When I was home, I never gave much thought to the things my father complained about. I tried to keep him quiet, just as my mother did. We were both scared he’d end up at a reeducation facility. I heard it all, of course, over and over, but I never really thought much about what he was saying. He was always talking about obscure things…things I’d never heard anywhere else, topics it was hard to learn anything about.

  It’s easy to dismiss what you are told, to tune out the rantings you hear over and over. Almost everything my father said was contradicted by what I learned in school or saw on television. To believe what he was saying, I had to disregard virtually everything else I was taught. I had to ignore my teachers, the news…everything. It’s easy to discount an extreme opinion, even when it’s from someone close to you. Of course, just because a statement is extreme doesn’t mean it’s wrong. But that’s not how it seems when you’re listening to it, especially when you’re 18 or 19, and you think you know everything. When you think you have your whole life ahead of you.

  My years on Erastus have given me lots of time to think. War consists of short bursts of intense effort and terror separated by long periods of boredom and inactivity. My father’s rants don’t seem so unfounded anymore. I know UN Central can’t be blamed for the Tegeri and the Machines. Indeed, a united mankind has been far more able to fight off the alien menace than a fractured and squabbling world could ever have managed. But now I think about the monitoring, the assembly restrictions, the endless list of rules and regulations, the seemingly random enforcement of sometimes draconian laws. Now I wonder why all that was necessary. I started to think about the things I was taught in school, and the more I thought, the more questions I had. I understood the need for mankind to stand together and face the Tegeri, but I started to realize that didn’t explain everything. It didn’t even come close. Now I question how I ever thought it did.

  Pre-Consolidation history is a heavily proscribed topic, and back then I generally believed the official texts, just like everyone else. Everyone but the old-timers like my father. The government can rewrite the history books and tell as many lies as it wants…but it can’t erase the memories of living people. Or perhaps it can…perhaps that is what the reeducation camps are for.

  I wish I could see my father again, talk to him, truly listen this time. He had so much to teach me, so much life experience…and I threw away the chance to learn. He’d lived through incredible times, but no one would listen to what he had to say. I was young and stupid, and I thought everything I’d been taught at school and heard on the media was true. I regret it. I regret it all.

  *

  “I must congratulate you on the continued success of the Supersoldier program on Erastus.” Anan Keita stood next to Kazan, wearing a finely-crafted black suit. His expression was solemn, even mournful, as befitted the funeral of a member of the UN Secretariat. It was a mask, however, the kind he’d worn so often in his tenure at UN Central…a career that saw him rise from a low-level operative to the verge of a Seat on the Secretariat. Raj Patel had been Secretary of Military Affairs since the Consolidation, and that meant he’d been in Keita’s way for at least the last decade. Keita had waited with growing frustration as the sick old fool took his sweet time about dying.

  “Thank you, sir.” Kazan often called Keita ‘Mr. Secretary,’ but the obsequious exaggeration seemed misplaced at the previous Secretary’s funeral. “Progress on Erastus has outstripped our most optimistic projections.” Kazan caught himself speaking too loudly and lowered his voice. “As you know, the original tactical plan set forth a 40-year timetable for total pacification. We are currently in year 12, and I have just completed the newest modeling.”

  Keita was looking forward, pretending to listen to the protracted eulogies and glancing only occasionally toward Kazan. He was getting impatient with his subordinate’s pointless chatter, but his eyes opened wider when Kazan mentioned the projections. He was extremely anxious for the revised tactical estimates, and he hadn’t expected them for at least another few days. “What is your current timeframe for completing the conquest of the planet?” He spoke softly, but he couldn’t hide his interest.

  “Five years, sir.” Kazan was still whispering, but the excitement was obvious in his voice.

  Keita had been looking straight ahead as he listened, but now he turned his head and stared at his subordinate. “Five years? Are you certain?” He was a master at containing and disguising his emotions, but he couldn’t hide all his excitement. This was incredible news…and it couldn’t have come at a better time. Keita was the logical choice to succeed Patel to the Secretary’s office, but in politics you could never be sure. This would clinch it. No one could challenge him. His political enemies would have to retreat. Keita had been acting-Secretary for five years, and under his supervision, the Supersoldier program had been a stunning success. The implications of a rollout beyond Erastus were staggering. Keita had a fleeting thought – might he ride this triumph not only to the top of the Military Secretariat, but ultimately to the Secretary General’s chair itself?

  Kazan couldn’t keep the smile off his face. “Yes, sir. We ran it through the central planning computer three times with identical results. I have the findings and all the supporting documentation. No one will be able to contest the projection.”

  Keita saw the obnoxious smile on Kazan’s face. The news was good for both of them. Kazan wanted the under-secretary’s seat that Keita would be leaving. The little worm would sell his grandmother for that promotion, Keita thought. He felt derision for his grasping underling, even as his own lust for the Secretary’s chair was no less consuming. But he knew there was no way to deny Kazan the step up. And he had to admit the creepy little bastard had earned it. He’d done a superb job on selecting the pilot specimens for the program…and they had done the rest. Keita had always been amused by the soldiers…at the superhuman efforts a pat on the head and a flag to follow could generate from ordinary men. They are simple, he thought, but useful tools nonetheless.

  “I have a Secretariat meeting tomorrow, and I want to be prepared. They will undoubtedly wish to explore expansion options for the program.” Keita was speaking softly, trying not to draw attention to himself. It wouldn’t serve his purposes to offend anyone, certainly not before he was formally confirmed.
No one had really liked Patel, and he seriously doubted anyone cared that the old fuck had finally died. But he had been a Secretary, and the bureaucracy required respect for the position, not the man.

  “I will have the data ready for you first thing in the morning, sir.” Kazan spoke quietly as well, his eyes focused forward, watching as the 7th or 8th dignitary began speaking about the life of Raj Patel. Kazan couldn’t wait to get away and go back to his office. He and his staff would be up all night as it was, but he didn’t mind. Supersoldier had been his project, and he was going to see it through. And ride it as far as it could take him.

  *

  “So you see, gentlemen, not only has the rate of pacification increased almost 350%, but this has been accomplished with a corresponding 55% reduction in casualties.” Keita stood at the head of the polished teak table, addressing the assembled Secretariat of the UN, the 14 men who ruled the world…currently 13 men and one empty chair. Keita was still acting-Secretary, at least officially. He’d been nominated to succeed Patel, but the wheels of bureaucracy moved slowly. He knew he had six votes locked up, so he only needed one of the others…and the news he was delivering today had a good chance of delivering him a unanimous appointment.

  “Your report is very impressive, Under-Secretary.” Anton Samovich was Secretary of Internal Security and generally considered the number two man on the council, after the Secretary General. “It is not my intention to catch you unprepared, but do you feel you can offer some insight on how quickly the program can be rolled out to the other Portal worlds?”

  Keita suppressed a smile. He’d wondered for some time if Samovich was a potential ally. The wily old Secretary was unpredictable and hard to read, but he was a formidable force to have on your side. Now he had his answer. Samovich knew very well Keita would have the data he requested. He was providing a chance for Keita to elaborate on his success.

  “Certainly, Secretary Samovich.” Keita spoke deliberatively, making sure to keep any trace of arrogance out of his voice…anything that might offend anyone. Now wasn’t the time to be careless, and he was well aware of the size and the volatile nature of some of the egos in the room. If Samovich was in his corner, he had a great shot at a unanimous confirmation vote. He’d take the chair any way he could get it, but if he squeaked in, he’d have a target on his back from day one. With all 13 votes, he’d have a lot more freedom to pursue his agenda. “We have examined the situation from two perspectives, depending on the aggressiveness the Secretariat wishes to employ.” He glanced around the room, adding the body language to back up his faked, but convincing, respectful deference to the Secretaries.

  Samovich nodded. “I believe we should examine both options. I am certain we can consider the pros and cons for each approach.”

  Keita waited until he was sure Samovich was done. “We can certainly implement the Supersoldier program on a single additional world fairly quickly.” He moved his eyes up and down the table, looking at each of the Secretaries in turn. “Constructing a new production and implantation facility will take a minimum of six months, including transport time through the Portal.” Half a year was a tight schedule, but Keita was sure he could make it work if he had to. “While construction is underway, we can select our initial candidates from the forces currently engaged.”

  “And if we wish to extend the program simultaneously to all currently disputed Portal worlds?” It was a new voice. Chang Li was Secretary of Finance, and probably the third most powerful member of the Secretariat, after Samovich and the Secretary General. And a world-class prick, Keita thought. He tried to maintain good relations with all the council members, but if he had an enemy lurking out there, Keita knew it would be Chang.

  Keita paused, carefully considering his response. “Simultaneous introduction on all disputed worlds would be an enormous project, Secretary Chang, and the costs involved would be astronomical. Probably exceeding any…”

  “But it funding were made available, Mr. Keita, how long would your people require to implement.” Chang again, interrupting.

  “In that case, I would estimate a minimum of five years to reach full implementation.” Keita had no idea…he was pulling guesses out of his ass. He’d never considered a project on the scale Chang was suggesting. It was unfeasible at best, impossible at worst. It would require an investment exceeding gross world product, and there weren’t enough specialists available with the required skills. It was a stupid hypothetical being floated by an arrogant ass for reasons Keita couldn’t quite divine…at least not yet. “Just training a sufficient number of personnel would be an enormous project. And the investment required would be truly enormous, far beyond the scope of any project yet undertaken.”

  “I don’t think we need to consider such a massive expansion anyway.” It was Samovich. He glared at Chang as he spoke. There was something going on between the two, some kind of dispute. That much was clear. “I believe we are in agreement that the ongoing struggle with the Tegeri serves a valid social purpose, one that it is in our best interests to continue for the foreseeable future.” Samovich’s department was responsible for maintaining order in a world that just 30 years before had been divided into almost 200 separate, often warring nations. Much of the propaganda continually pumped out by his ministries was based on the alien threat. If sustaining that useful crisis cost an annual toll of dead soldiers, so be it. “Accelerating our progress is a useful goal, however total victory is not desirable.”

  “We are not all in agreement on that.” Chang again, challenging Samovich directly. “There are other ways to control the masses. And the potential to exploit the full technology of the Portal worlds unhampered is extraordinary.”

  “Enough.” The Secretary General’s voice was deep and commanding. He was getting older, and perhaps it was a little weaker, hoarser than it had once been. But one word was enough to silence the room. Raul Esteban was the most powerful man in the world, Secretary General of the UN, chief executive of UN Central. His demeanor was always flawlessly measured and professional, but his ruthlessness and brutality were well known, at least among the inner circle.

  “We are not going to have that debate at this time. Mr. Keita is here to brief us on the status of the Supersoldier program, a project he appears to have handled quite well.”

  Keita had been listening respectfully, but he had to catch himself when Esteban mentioned him. I have the Secretary General, he thought excitedly. Esteban’s support made his elevation to Secretary a dead certainty.

  “I suggest we focus on the matter of reasonable expansion for now.” When Raul Esteban used the word ‘suggest,’ everyone present took it as a command. “We should not take any more of Mr. Keita’s time than we require. I am sure he has much to do, since he will likely be assuming the Military Affairs portfolio formally in the near future.”

  The room was silent for a few seconds. “Thank you, Your Excellency.” Keita managed to speak in a calm and relaxed tone, though every bit of it was false. The Secretary General had as much as promised him the elevation. He was about to become a member of the Secretariat. Get control of yourself, Keita, he thought nervously…don’t screw up now.

  “Your Excellency, esteemed Secretaries…if you will indulge me, I will try to provide some meaningful insight into the details of expanding the program at various rates.” He glanced at Esteban, who nodded ever so slightly. “If you gentlemen will refer to page 11 in the reports I have provided, we can begin.”

  Chapter 11

  From the Journal of Jake Taylor:

  I had friends back home. Not a lot of them, but a few good ones. My enlistment turned them into one more group of people sharing a tearful goodbye. I still think of those guys from time to time, remembering things we did together…how close we were. In my mind, they’re still my friends, though I know that’s just something I tell myself. Is an old buddy still a friend when you haven’t seen or talked to him for years? Or even exchanged a letter? Would I really know any of them if I saw th
em again? Would they know me?

  I want to think it wouldn’t matter, that we’d all go back to where we left off…but I know that’s a fool’s dream. I’m dead to them…I died a long time ago. The Jake Taylor who remains - jaded soldier and half machine – would be a stranger. Oh, they would embrace me and act as if nothing had happened. But the closeness, the brotherhood we used to share? I know that is gone forever. Better that they never see me. Let them remember me as I was…as one of them.

  I have new friends now. They’re all soldiers…condemned men like me. We share a fate, and we stand together in battle. As tight as I was with my friends back home, I’ve never experienced anything like the closeness I feel toward these men. I can’t imagine how I would survive the blood and pain and death without them.

  They all look at me like a rock, some kind of invincible robot…the man who’d survived Erastus for a decade. But I’m not any of that; I’m just a man…and a worn out, sad, exhausted one at that. Sometimes I wish I could tell them how much I hurt inside, how bone tired and soul sick I really am. I wish I could make sure they understand how important their support and companionship is for me, how it is the only thing that keeps me going. But I can’t. They need me as that invincible monolith; I have to stay strong…to perpetuate the stupid legend, the Ten Year Man. I have to do it for them…and for the rest of the troops. They draw their strength from me, and I have to maintain the illusion. I have no real strength left to give them.

  The burden of command is like nothing I’ve ever experienced. Back home, the closest I came to being responsible for anyone else was watching my little brother. Now, my decisions determine whether men live or die. Sometimes they die no matter what I do…though I never know for sure. Would they have survived if I’d made a different choice, if I’d read the situation better?