Homefront: Portal Wars III

by Jay Allan

  “Gentlemen,” he said, his voice calm. “General Ahmad is relieved of command. Further, he is hereby judged guilty of treason and cowardice in the face of the enemy. His sentence is death, to be carried out immediately.”

  “Sir!” the lead guard snapped, gesturing for two of the others to take hold of the officer. Ahmad stared back at Samovich, his eyes wide with terror. “No, Secretary-General…please!”

  Samovich looked back at the general for an instant. Then he turned back to the senior guard. “You have your orders. Take him away…down to the large parade ground. They are setting up the scaffold now.”

  “No!,” the pathetic officer screamed, twisting in vain in an effort to get free of the guards, then collapsing entirely, forcing his captors to virtually carry him out of the office. Samovich watched as they dragged him out in the hall, still screaming. Then the door closed, and General Mahmoud Ahmad was gone.

  “I would have given the fool the slow death he deserves,” he said, looking toward Drogov as he did, “but I believe a public hanging will prove far more useful than a private death in the prison levels.” He took a breath and sighed. “See that his execution is transmitted live to all military units…especially the ones moving toward Taylor’s forces. It is important that they see the price of failure. And I believe this might be a good first assignment for some of your Shadow Company recruits, don’t you?”

  “I concur. I will see it done, Anton.”

  “And Alexi?”

  “Yes?”

  “I particularly want all officers to watch. Not just in the active units, but all those fools down in headquarters who got their fancy uniforms through political favors and bribes. They wanted to be soldiers, so now they will have that chance.”

  “Yes, Alexi.” Drogov nodded, and he turned and slipped through the door.

  * * *

  “They have Tegeri technology, that’s the only answer. And it appears the aliens have some capabilities they’ve never shown us before.” Colonel—actually, for the past forty minutes General—Akawa stood before a large screen, displaying the best image available of one of the AOL’s anti-aircraft batteries.

  “I am inclined to agree with you, General,” Samovich said quietly. “Yet to cursory inspection, it looks like a normal vehicle of human manufacture. Taylor and the Tegeri are clever…they aid his army in any way that is not obvious, but they do not join him…or give him weapons that would seem out of place.” He gestured toward the screen. “Even if we were to capture one of those, it would have no propaganda value. To the people it just looks like some kind of military vehicle.”

  “Yes, Secretary-General, I believe you are correct. We will have to rely on your speech to sufficiently…motivate…the people. I do not think either Taylor or the Tegeri will give us anything substantive to add to that.”

  Samovich nodded, looking down at his desk for a moment. Then he said, “So, General…what would you have me do now? What course of action would you order if yours was the last word. Would you send our ground forces in without air cover…or would you commit what we have that can still fly?”

  “That is a difficult question, Secretary-General.” Akawa paused, thinking. “If we commit what air assets are currently operational, we will likely be outnumbered, and the enemy will still have their ground batteries as well as their Dragonfires. But if we hold back the flyers and attack only with ground forces, Taylor’s army will have total air superiority, which will severely impede our operations.”

  “Yes, I know it is a difficult question,” Samovich said, staring intently at Akawa. “That is why I am asking you, General.”

  Akawa paused. Then he said, “Permission to speak freely, sir?”

  Samovich nodded slowly, a hint of approval in his eyes. Here is a man with some balls, at last…a lion among these sheep. “Permission granted, General.”

  “Sir, I understand what you have been told, what the general staff has advised you. But I think they are wrong…and if you follow their advice I believe we will simply see an ongoing series of defeats that will attrite our strength and leave us too weak at every point to ever land a crushing blow.”

  The other officers in the room fidgeted uncomfortably, and there were some sighs and sounds of discontent…and more than one nasty stare toward Akawa.

  “Quiet,” Samovich said, in a voice that dared any of them to draw so much as an audible breath. “Go on, General. Speak your mind.”

  “Akawa looked over at his fellow officers, but only for an instant. Then he returned his gaze to Samovich. “Well, sir, ideally I would also be in favor of striking at the enemy position, attacking and destroying them before they are able to disperse and move toward multiple targets. A successful attack in the near term would offer an opportunity to destroy much of the enemy’s ordnance before they are able to reassemble it.”

  “That is what I have heard already, General.” Samovich glared at the cluster of officers standing against the far wall. “It is why we have two full divisions already in central Russia…and two more following those.”

  “Yes, sir…but despite the reasons offered in favor of immediate action, I do not believe we should attack now, not a full scale assault in any event. I said it is what I would do in ideal circumstances. Our situation is far from ideal.” Akawa stopped, staring cautiously at the effective ruler of the world, but Samovich nodded for him to continue. “I do not believe we have the capability to launch a strike within the next week, even two. Not one that offers any hope of victory. And I believe those who have told you we do are either incompetent, or they fear to tell you the truth.”

  Another round of mumbled protests came from the other generals.

  “Silence,” Samovich roared. “The next one of you that makes a sound, who so much as breathes in a way I don’t like, will find himself out on the parade ground, next to General Ahmad.” He turned his head. “Please continue, General Akawa.”

  “Yes, sir. As I was saying, while catching Taylor’s army at the Portal would be desirable, I do not believe we can win that fight. Not now. His troops are all veterans, and despite his…ah…misguided ambitions, there seems little doubt he is a charismatic leader who commands the respect and devotion of his men. Our soldiers, on the other hand, are almost all raw…or they are police and security forces drafted into the army.” He glanced again over at the cluster of irate generals watching silently from the other side of the room. “And, with all due respect to my colleagues, our command staff is also inexperienced. They are no match for Taylor’s people. Not one on one. Not even two one on. We much maneuver and concentrate, and wait until we have assembled a truly overwhelming army. Wherever we finally fight his forces we must have a significant advantage in numbers and ground.”

  “So you are saying we should just let him march wherever he wants to go? To occupy any cities or objectives he may target?”

  “No, sir…not precisely. Clearly we must fight him, but I suggest we conduct raids, place forces just outside of his reach. That we set up artillery emplacements and bombard his positions, withdrawing when he moves against them. We must sting him, threaten his supply lines and rear areas when we have the opportunity.” Akawa paused.

  “Please go on, General.” Samovich stared at the other officers. “I find this insight fascinating.”

  “Yes, sir. There are disadvantages to allowing Taylor’s forces to advance, but there are opportunities as well. If we allow them, they will move toward population centers…and away from their supply line through the Portal. We may even have a chance to slip behind them and cut them off entirely. And when they reach towns and cities…and occupy them as you said, what will they find? The people of Earth believe they are murderers, traitors to their own people. By allowing them to advance we force them into confrontations with the civilians, which can only further inflame opinions against them…and which will almost certainly be severely demoralizing to Taylor’s troops, who must expect, at least on some level, to be treated as liberators.”
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br />   “So, you would gather strength, shadow Taylor’s forces, harass them when you could, and move against their lines of supply if they give you an opening?”

  “Yes, Secretary-General…in essence that is what I would propose. And once we have gathered irresistible forces…either in one location or in many, depending on what Taylor’s people do, I would attack, and crush them at all costs.”

  “Very well, General…do it.”

  “Sir?”

  “I said do it. I am in total agreement with you. So see to it.”

  Akawa had a confused look on his face. “Do you want me to draw up plans for the general staff? To advise…”

  “No,” Samovich interrupted. “The general staff consists of a bunch of pompous fools, politicians like me…who are too arrogant to admit they don’t know what to do. I need a soldier, one who can appreciate the rewards of victory…wealth, power beyond imagining…a seat on the Secretariat.”

  He stared at Akawa. “I hereby appoint you Marshal of all Earth armies and supreme commander of the war against General Taylor and his Tegeri allies. Effective immediately, you will take command of all operations.”

  Samovich looked across the room, his eyes daring the stunned generals to challenge him. He could feel their rage, but none had to courage to argue. He turned to face Akawa. “You may do with this group as you will, Marshal Akawa. Use the ones that are worth something, dismiss the others.” A short pause. “And if any of them gives you trouble…” He glared back at the generals. “…you have my authorization to have him summarily executed.”

  * * *

  “I want you to expand your Shadow Company, Alexi. At least double its present size, and more if you feel you can use them effectively. I will give you authorization to reassign any UNGov personnel. If anyone gives you a hard time, refer them directly to me.” Samovich smiled. “Or, just…handle it…yourself.” Samovich was on edge, facing the final struggle, and angry at the reverses his forces had suffered, but he allowed himself a smile thinking about some regional commander, or even an Inquisitor, trying to stand up to Alexi Drogov. UNGov had a lot of arrogant personnel in its ranks, and more than a few cold, hard killers. But Drogov was something different, an incarnation of death itself. Cold-blooded didn’t come close to the truth. Indeed, whatever strange liquid flowed through Drogov’s veins, Samovich suspected its temperature was near absolute zero.

  His oldest colleague—and his only true friend—had an ability to set aside moral concerns, pity, mercy. Drogov wasn’t bloodthirsty…he’d as easily allow a foe to live if it served his purposes. But he would also kill…anyone, everyone, who stood in his way, and he would do it without the slightest hesitation or a hint of satisfaction. For all Samovich’s ruthless pursuit of power, he’d never seen anyone, including himself, as able to separate emotion from actions. If they hadn’t grown up together, he’d have sworn his friend was some kind of robot.

  “I anticipated your orders, Anton…and I have already begun. I’m afraid I’ve left a few stubbed toes and bruised egos, but you know me. Diplomacy is such a waste of time when fear and intimidation are so effective. I came close to shooting one of the Inquisitors, but he backed down just in time.” He looked over at Samovich. “I told him I’d come for him if he complained to the Secretariat, but I was only playing around with him. Still, just in case he scrapes up the courage to come crying to you, I wanted you to know.”

  Samovich smiled again. He didn’t believe for an instant Drogov would fail to follow through on a threat, whatever he was saying now. But he also suspected there were few UNGov operatives, even Inquisitors, with the combination of courage and stupidity to truly cross Alexi Drogov. They might as well put a gun in their mouths themselves and save the pain.

  “Very well, Alexi. As I said, you have carte blanche on resources and authority. I believe Marshal Akawa will prove to be far more competent than that pack of politically-connected lapdogs he replaced, but I’m still not sure he’s a match for Taylor, not to mention the rest of his officers and Supersoldiers.

  Samovich felt a surge of amusement at the disgust he felt for the political creatures around him, the men and women who had lied, cheated, and bought their way to power in UNGov. He was the worst political creature of them all, the one who had ascended to the greatest heights of power. But now he looked down on those beneath him, the hoard of backstabbers and liars who would do anything to take a step up the ladder of power. He saw how useless most of them were, at least when challenged by an adversary as capable as Taylor and his people. Sure, they were adept at stepping all over civilians, men and women beaten down for two generations, penned into small neighborhoods, dependent on UNGov rationing. But they were fools nevertheless, not wolves like himself, like Drogov. Like the men and women who had seized power, who had perpetrated the great deceit that had gained them control over a world.

  Drogov sat staring at his friend, an odd expression on his face.

  “What?” Samovich asked? A few seconds later…“What…what is it with you?”

  “I’m just waiting for you to tell me what you really want.” Drogov’s expression was impassive, perhaps a hint of amusement on his otherwise poker-ready face.

  “What I really want?”

  “Anton, we have known each other, what, almost fifty years? Yet you never tire of playing these games, of acting as if I don’t already known what you want before you ask.” Drogov was the only person who characterized the Secretary-General’s commands as ‘asking.’ But despite Samovich’s almost limitless power, he and Drogov both realized that everything he sent his friend to do was a request. If they hadn’t been lifelong friends, Samovich would tread carefully around the operative, and even fear him. Drogov had never refused his friend, and he’d been instrumental in eliminating political enemies during Samovich’s rise…but they both knew he could refuse it he wanted to, would refuse if the Secretary-General ever asked him to do something he didn’t want to do.

  “It is that obvious? Still, it will not be easy, and there will be great risks involved. But with most of the available nuclear arsenal expended, and the enemy’s anti-air defenses so strong, I can’t think of anything but black ops.”

  Drogov sighed, and for a passing instant there was an expression on his face Samovich had never seen, one of doubt. But it only lasted a few seconds. “It will not be easy, Anton. Indeed, it will be the most difficult operation I have ever attempted.” He paused. “But I will do it…I will do it for you, my old friend, and because I believe it is where our greatest hope for victory lies.” Alexi Drogov stared at his oldest, his only friend, his pale blue eyes betraying a human vulnerability he allowed few to see.

  “I will kill Jake Taylor for you.”

  Chapter 13

  Communiqué from Forward Position 3:

  This is Major Texera, in command of forward position three. My lead elements have encountered several small population centers. I have lost contact with several patrols, and have received reports from others that they have engaged in combat. Hostiles are not UNGov regulars, they are civilians from the nearby mining settlements. Repeat, we are being attacked by civilians…and we have returned fire…

  The shot rang out, echoing across the rolling hills…then another one. Calvin Garth dove to the ground, his instincts taking over instantly. “Down,” he shouted, “everybody!” But his orders, as immediate as they were, came too late. His troops had already thrown themselves to the ground for cover, their training and experience taking over as automatically—and immediately—as his own.

  Garth snapped his head around, his enhanced ears quickly triangulating on the source of the gunfire. “From the northeast,” he snapped. “I put it two meters west of that copse of trees.” He looked at the area intently, blinking once or twice at the strange sensation he still felt when his bionic eyes zeroed in on a small spot and kicked up the magnification. A normal man wouldn’t have seen more than a green blotch of trees, and a low ridge to their left. But Garth saw much more than
that…he caught movement, leaves rustling…just as another shot rang out.

  “The trees,” he snapped. “Target the tress…fire!”

  He angled his rifle toward the green area, his finger flipping the switch to semi-auto just before he pulled the trigger. He fired half a dozen times, perhaps twenty shots in all, and his troopers did the same. The trees were riddled with fire, he could see leaves flying around and branches splitting and falling to the ground.

  “Cease fire,” he snapped, his eyes panning the area slowly, carefully. “Lynch, Eddings…move forward, and scout those woods.”

  “Sir!” came the almost simultaneous replies. Even as they responded, he could see the two soldiers moving forward, lunging ahead twenty yards and dropping behind whatever cover or folds in the ground they could find. They stopped and waited for enemy fire before pushing on again. But there was none. Finally, they disappeared inside the wall of trees.

  “Captain Garth…” It was Eddings on the comlink. “Woods are clear, sir. We’ve got two bodies…and it looks like two or three more took off north. Should we pursue?”

  Garth paused. His instinct was to order his troopers to chase the survivors down…but if there were UNGov forces out there that was a good way to send his two men right into a large enemy force.

  “Negative, Corporal. There’s no way to know how close their parent unit is.” There wasn’t supposed to be any enemy activity in this area. All reports indicated the enemy was concentrating in the south. But there was no point in taking any chances.

  “Sir, they don’t look much like UNGov troops…they seem more like…civilians, sir. Some kind of miners or something like that.”

  “And how many UNGov soldiers have you seen, Eddings?” Garth paused, thinking. But Eddings is a veteran…he knows what a soldier looks like…

  “Very well, Corporal,” he added, more or less disregarding what he had just said. “Stay put until we get there.” He flipped the comlink to wide channel. “Alright, guys…we’re heading to that clump of trees to check things out. I want everybody wide awake and alert…but no happy trigger fingers, okay? You don’t fire without my order unless someone is shooting at you…and even then, make damned sure you don’t hit any friendlies.”