by Jay Allan
Bear waved his rifle in the air and lurched forward, out of the cave. He knew he shouldn’t be the first one out, but it would have taken a direct order from Taylor to push him farther back. He ran quickly, his enhanced leg muscles powering his massive body over the scrubby grasslands at 30 kilometers per hour. He didn’t have to worry about leaving anyone behind since all his men had the same mods.
He ran toward a small rock outcropping. That was the signal point. When Bear passed the rock, the unit would lift radio silence, and the section and team leaders would organize their attacks. It was halfway to the objective, which would give them about 90 seconds before they hit the outer perimeter of the Portal complex.
The enemy still hadn’t started firing, though Bear figured they would any time now. There was no way they hadn’t spotted his people yet. Still, every second got them closer, and cut down on the losses his guys would take going in.
Bear zipped past the 2 meter high sliver of rock, blasting a thought to activate his com as he did. “Alright, boys, let’s go. Form up your attacks.”
Then the enemy started firing.
*
Taylor stood in his command post, listening to all the reports coming in. He was mostly concentrating on the chatter among Bear’s people. They had the toughest job. Taylor could only hide two strike forces in the caves, so Samuels had to take the Portal with fewer than 300 men. The UN forces had been careless about their defenses, but they still had at least 1,500 troops deployed in the immediate area. Bear had a hand-picked crew, Supersoldiers and veterans all. But it was still a tough fight.
“Let’s go, 1st Section.” It was Samuels’ voice on the com. His people had just made it to the Portal itself, the UN units in full flight, leaving at least 200 dead behind them. “I want that defensive perimeter up NOW.” There was a short pause, then: “HHVs there, there…and there.”
Taylor had total faith in his closest friends, but it still surprised him sometimes listening to their cool competence. His people had spent their time on Erastus battling the Machines. This was the first time they were fighting against other humans…and it struck Taylor just how good his veterans were. These UN troops were well trained and equipped, but they were glorified bullies and secret police, not soldiers. The Erastus forces were tearing them apart everywhere they fought.
Bear’s people had drawn the hardest duty, and they’d taken the heaviest losses. One in five of Samuels’ men were down, but that was far less than Taylor had feared. They’d taken the Portal. Now, they’d have to hold it against the inevitable counterattacks. The UN command would freak out when they realized they’d been cut off from the Portal. But that was about to become only one of their problems.
Taylor moved toward the command console and activated the main com unit. “Attention, Army of Erastus…” That was the first time he’d called his forces that. He’d never considered a designation, but he sure as hell wasn’t going to call them UNFE, with or without UN Central’s blasted colon. He didn’t know it then, but the name he gave them would stick. “…Objective Z is secured.” He paused and took a deep breath. It was time. “Execute Plan Alpha-Omega.”
Chapter 24
From the Journal of Jake Taylor:
A crusade. Many struggles have been so called, yet few, I suspect, have lived up to the purity of purpose implicit in the name. Our war will be a true crusade, and we shall not rest until our enemies are vanquished and the terrible wrong they wrought has been eradicated. My devotion is pure. I don’t seek permission or approval, and I will not be deterred by apologies and pleas for mercy. I am what I am, and I have made my peace with that. I am ready to do whatever I must.
If the wrong done to you is bad enough, the primal need to seek some sort of redress can be overwhelming. Sitting and thinking about grievances, planning and devising the means of your enemy’s destruction…it all feeds the beast inside. But when it is time to actually do it, to deal out massive death and hideous suffering, to make the decisions that threaten your very humanity…that is when we encounter the greatest test of our resolve.
But there is another aspect of zealotry, of the insatiable need to attain victory at all costs…one that can be the hardest to live with. You must give all to the crusade, holding nothing back. Risking your own life is easy, but sacrificing a friend…that is the hardest thing to live with. And it is just such a friend who is likeliest to be the one you can rely upon in the most vital, the most desperate situation.
The closest I have come to abandoning my calling, of giving in to my own desires over the needs of the crusade was when I was trying to save a friend…a brother who walked into a firestorm because I asked him to.
*
“Pour it into ‘em, boys!” Sergeant Harrigan was firing as he encouraged his men. “Don’t let the fuckers breathe.”
The 45th Strike Force had the enemy battalion – what was left of it – pinned. The ridge was high and steep, much too rugged for the panicked UN troopers to retreat over, and every other avenue of escape was over flat, open plateau. Perfect killing ground.
Harrigan’s forces had been attacking all day. He was part of the force driving hard toward the Portal, trying to reach Captain Samuel’s forces before they were overwhelmed. There were four pincers, approaching Bear’s beleaguered survivors from every direction. Taylor was on the com every few minutes, pushing Harrigan and his people, urging them to make the absolute maximum effort. No one had ever heard Jake so determined. Taylor was going to get through to Samuels’ people if he had to smash the entire army to bits to do it.
The battle plan had been a success so far…the entire UN force was onplanet and cut off from the Portal. When they realized what Jake’s people had done, they launched massive counter-attacks, seeking to retake the transit point. Samuels and his small force had been fighting like banshees against 20-1 odds, beating back every charge. But they paid a price each time, and fewer than a third of them were still in the line.
The unit facing Harrigan’s forces began to melt away under the murderous fire. They weren’t even fighting back anymore, nothing but a few sporadic shots. A lot of them were down from the heat, and the ones still standing were routing, trying desperately to escape the 45th’s trap.
“This is Sergeant Harrigan.” He was shouting into the com, his excitement boiling over. “Lieutenant Nguyen, Sergeant Harrigan here…the barn door is open, sir.” He turned back toward the disintegrating enemy formation and added his fire to that of his men. They’d opened the way for the 111th Strike Force to move through the gap and reach Samuels’ perimeter. All he had to do now was make sure none of these troops regrouped and hit the 111th on the flank. He gritted his teeth and slapped a new clip into his magazine. He knew just how to make sure of that.
*
The fighting had been brutal along the curving ridgeline just east of the Portal. The dead were piled up everywhere, and the advancing troops had to climb over the bodies to push their way forward. Samuels’ troops had performed wonders along this line, holding the outer perimeter against 11 charges. By the time the enemy launched number 12 there only 8 men left manning the position.
There wasn’t a lot of doubt…this time the enemy was going to get through. There was no military reason for Corporal Sebastiani and the 7 troopers under his command to stand…they didn’t have the slightest chance of holding back the 1,200 enemy soldiers formed up for the final push. But all 8 of them were of one mind. There was no way they were pulling back. If the enemy wanted to take their position, they were going to have to take it. Not one of them was ready to give it away for free.
“Well, Private Ramirez, we’ve earned our pay these last few days, haven’t we?” Sebastiani had walked up behind Ramirez. The private had been part of an HHV crew, but his teammate and the weapon itself had been blasted to bits a few hours earlier. Now he was crouched down with his assault rifle. He didn’t have the firepower he’d had before, but that didn’t matter. He’d be standing here with a knife if that was all h
e had.
“Yes, sir.” Ramirez was focused, ready. Somehow he had mastered the fear, at least for the moment. He knew just as well as Sebastiani that they all had about ten minutes left to live. “I think Colonel Taylor will be pleased with us.” There was an almost eerie contentment in his voice.
“Yes, private.” Sebastiani’s tone had become thoughtful, almost serene. “I think you are right. We did our duty for the colonel.” He looked out across no man’s land, but he wasn’t seeing anything…at least nothing on Erastus. He saw images of home, memories he’d long since thought were lost to him. The rolling hills of Tuscany, the small town where he was born…the place from which he’d never traveled more than 20 kilometers before they came and made a soldier out of him. He knew he was going to die, but he’d made his peace with it. The fear was gone.
Perhaps it would return at the instant of death, when he was staring at the advancing enemy soldiers…when he was lying in the hot sand, feeling his life slip away. But for now he was satisfied. He’d done his duty…for his comrades and for Taylor. There were worse ways to die.
“Corporal, there’s something going on over there.” It was Private Vick on the com. “Look.” His voice was rising in pitch, becoming excited. “It’s us, corporal. I mean Erastus troops. They’re attacking the enemy from the rear.”
Sebastiani snapped out of his daydream and stared out at the enemy lines. Vick was right. The enemy was falling into complete disarray. Then he heard it, a series of low rumbles…explosions all along the enemy rear.
“They’re here.” Sebastiani shouted into the com. “The relief column is here.”
Vick was the first one to start cheering, but it was only a few seconds before all 8 of them were shouting joyously. Sebastiani let it go for a minute…they deserved it.
All they had to do was hunker down and wait. The relieving force had caught the enemy in a difficult position. There wasn’t a doubt in Sebastiani’s mind that the forces coming to their aid were going to defeat the units facing them. But sitting around and watching their saviors fight it out wasn’t how he was wired.
“Alright boys. This isn’t over yet.” He grabbed his rifle and cautiously moved forward. “Let’s move up and help our boys out. What do you all say?”
He was shocked how loudly seven men could cheer.
*
The Surgeon had been at work all day. Jones was ranging all along the front lines, scouring the enemy position for choice targets. Conditions were perfect…Taylor’s forces were attacking the enemy at every point, driving them back in utter disarray. Nothing made officers more careless than panic and disorder in the ranks…and Jones only needed one slip up to put his target down.
He was back near the old UNFE headquarters complex. There wasn’t much left of the buildings but, even though it was militarily useless, Taylor figured it would be a psychological strongpoint for the UN forces. As usual, Jones thought, he turned out to be right. There were at least 10,000 enemy troops trying to rally in the area, half without weapons, all in complete disorder. A perfect environment for hunting.
Jones was after a very special target, and he figured this was where he’d find him. Taylor’s army didn’t have any real intel on the enemy OB or command structures. But Jones had done some research…mostly with a notched blade and a few carefully selected prisoners. He was pretty sure he was hot on the trail of his prey.
He was crawling very slowly, concentrating hard on staying concealed. Carelessness could be as deadly to him as his target. He pulled himself just behind the crest of a small rise and peered over cautiously.
There it was, just as he expected. The command post was small, maybe half a dozen vehicles parked around a series of portable shelters. The area was clogged with soldiers, mostly wandering around, trying to find their units…or just walking in stunned shock. There were hundreds on the ground too, those who’d succumbed to the heat. Jones knew from his own experience, some of them would recover after a short rest and a few gulps of water…and some would never get up again. Indeed, he could see the burial details moving about, scooping up the bodies of those who had died from heatstroke.
His enhanced eyes peered through the scope of his rifle, panning along the confused mass. It was hard to get a view through to the central area past the crowds. There were a number of officers in his sights, but Jones was after one target, and he was determined to get his man.
“That’s the main command post,” he whispered to himself. “That’s where he’ll be.”
He watched, slowly moving from one figure to the next. He couldn’t just start dropping officers. He’d get one shot, maybe two, then all hell would break loose down there. He needed to spot his target first, and he would stay at it however long it took.
Then, just a few seconds later, his eyes locked on a figure. The uniform was right. He felt his heart beating faster, excitement building along with realization. He focused harder, bringing all the power of his upgraded eyes into play. The insignia looked right too. Suddenly, it all clicked…he was sure. It was him.
He stared intently, waiting for a cluster of soldiers to pass, opening the field of view. There it was…the shot.
He slowly tightened his finger over the trigger. “Say goodnight, Colonel Graves…”
*
Taylor stared out over the mass of miserable prisoners milling around behind the makeshift fencing. They stretched over a kilometer, huddled together and guarded by a dozen strikeforces. These men had been enforcers on Earth, privileged bullies who persecuted helpless citizens, but now their arrogance was gone. They were utterly beaten…broken and terrified.
“Jake, come on…” Blackie wasn’t quite pleading, but he was trying hard to convince Taylor. “…we’re not murderers. That’s the whole point of this, isn’t it? That we’re better than they are.”
Taylor was trying to show respect for the feelings of his best friend and second-in-command, but he was utterly unmoved. These men might not share the degree of guilt that Gregor Kazan had, but they were part of the same cancer and, as far as Taylor was concerned, they had to be cut out the same way. It was all well and good to aspire to loftier standards of mercy, but first they had to win the war.
Kazan had already been dealt with. Taylor’s men had dragged the whimpering bureaucrat from his hiding place and thrown him on the ground in front of their victorious commander. Some of them had probably expected Taylor to gloat to the pathetic fool, and others expected to see him mete out a horrible, lingering death to the UN leader, but Jake hadn’t obliged them. He simply walked up to Kazan and looked at him for a few seconds, though he didn’t share what he was thinking with anyone. Then he pulled out his pistol and shot the crying prisoner in the forehead without a word. “We are revolutionaries, not sadists,” was all he had to say afterward.
The army had expected Kazan to pay the ultimate price, but no one knew what to expect for the masses of enemy soldiers who had surrendered. More than three quarters of the enemy forces were already dead, slain on the battlefield or done in by the relentless heat. There wasn’t a live enemy soldier anywhere on Erastus outside this prison camp, Taylor was sure of that. Soon there wouldn’t be one anywhere.
“I’m sorry, Blackie. There is no choice.” He was a little annoyed by Black’s hesitancy, and yet he understood in a way too. “Those men out there…they are not like us.” He was looking at Black, but speaking to everyone present. “They were not yanked from home and family and conscripted to fight. They pursued careers as Internal Security troopers. For God’s sake, most of them probably needed some sort of influence to even get the job.”
Taylor took a breath. He was starting to get angry even thinking about the Internal Security forces. “We were all fools once, perhaps, but now we understand how Earth’s government works. And we know exactly what these men are.”
He stared around the room, seeing a mix of agreement and doubt. “How many people suffered and died in reeducation camps, dragged there by these thugs? How many
were shot down in street riots and demonstrations because they had the temerity to pour into the streets and demand food?”
Taylor stopped. He was willing to try and convince his officers…to a point. But he was in command, and that was just what he intended to do. Command.
“It doesn’t matter what anybody thinks about this anymore.” His voice was like steel. “The decision’s been made.”
Taylor had other motivations too. His forces were short on supplies. There was no way they could sustain another 12,000 men, and even if they had the logistical capacity, there were no soldiers to spare to guard them. Dragging along hostile prisoners was a security risk Taylor wouldn’t have considered, even if he’d had the resources to do it. The only other alternative was to send them back to Earth…and that was out of the question. Taylor was determined that any force the Earth authorities sent after his people would disappear without a trace. There would be no survivors to tell the tale. He wanted the UN authorities to know fear.
He turned toward Daniels. “Captain, the prisoners are hereby sentenced to death, to be carried out immediately. Assemble the forces you require, and see that it is carried out.”
Daniels snapped to attention. “Yes, colonel.” His answer was crisp. Taylor hadn’t designated the duty randomly. He knew that Daniels agreed with him completely. He didn’t make a habit of excusing soldiers from duty they considered upsetting, but he knew the magnitude of what he was ordering, and his people had lost enough of their souls already. Daniels would handle it better than Bear or Blackie or any of the others.
He watched as Daniels saluted and trotted out of the room. Then he took a quick look at the others and turned to leave himself. “Dismissed.”