The Final Report of General Zacharias Fox:
We have been defeated on all fronts, and our inner defensive line is crumbling. This enemy is like nothing we have faced before. Our forces have been unable to stop them in any engagement. They move with great speed, and their endurance is astonishing. My forces have been unable to meet them effectively on equal terms, or even with a numerical advantage of two or three to one.
I estimate that approximately 20% of my effectives have deserted or surrendered, and the units remaining under my command are at or below half strength. The enemy is rapidly approaching, and I don’t know how long we can hold out without immediate assistance. I am urgently requesting reinforcements before it is too late to save…
Transmission terminated.
“The news from the Portal worlds continues to be uniformly disastrous. It would seem that we can now add Pacifica to the list of fallen planets.”
Raul Esteban leaned back in his plush leather chair, laying the glowing tablet and its disturbing report on the table as he stared thoughtfully at the snowy peak of Mt. Blanc in the distance. The top half of the mountain was shrouded with dark clouds. There was a storm heading toward Geneva, and Weather Division was predicting a bad one. Days of snow and sub-freezing temperatures. Esteban felt a touch of irony. There was another storm also, one currently lightyears away, but it too was approaching. And it was looking like a bad one as well. Far worse than anything he’d seen coming when Jake Taylor and his troops first rebelled on Erastus.
“I daresay we are witnessing the effectiveness of Secretary Keita’s Supersoldier program, though in a manner we did not anticipate.” Esteban’s voice was hard to read, but that didn’t stop everyone in the room from trying. They were edgy, nervous. The Secretary General was not a patient man, nor was he tolerant of failure. The other members of the Secretariat plotted and schemed, making their plans for the day when Esteban was gone…but there wasn’t one of them with the strength or courage to go up against UNGov’s unquestioned leader. “Taylor has managed to turn a considerable number of the soldiers on Alantris, Mariana…and now Pacifica, boosting his strength considerably.” He paused, still staring out across the Swiss countryside a kilometer below. “But it is the altered troops, the Supersoldiers, who are in every way the heart of his force.” Another pause, shorter than the last. “Ten thousand men. And they are beginning to threaten everything.”
Esteban was the most powerful man on Earth and the closest thing mankind had to an absolute ruler. He’d been one of the prime movers in the great fraud that induced Earth’s nations to surrender their sovereignty, to give up their freedoms and independence in exchange for protection from a bloodthirsty alien enemy…a danger, it turned out, didn’t actually exist. Esteban and his co-conspirators sent their thugs to murder colonists, and they framed the Tegeri for the crime. In the process, they instigated four decades of interstellar war, all in a ruthless bid for power. A very successful one. They had gained complete control over all mankind and imposed their own world order, almost bloodlessly – except for several generations of soldiers who died in the sands of distant worlds, fighting an unjust and unnecessary war. Esteban had always believed the greatest weapon for controlling people was exploiting their fears, and he and his cohorts had proven it decisively.
But political power had its limits, and mortality was the greatest. When the cancer that was steadily destroying his brain finally killed him, the last of the men responsible for the greatest lie in history would be dead of natural causes, having reworked human society and reigned for 40 years as a ruling elite. Esteban and his cohorts had tasted more power than anyone since man had first gathered together to build crude villages and begin civilization’s ascent. But in a few months, half a year at most, the last of them would be dead.
Earth had known many dictators and absolute rulers, but not a lot of them had managed to die peacefully in bed. Esteban drew satisfaction that not one of the members of the original cabal had been assassinated or deposed. They had seized control of mankind, and the miserable sheep inhabiting the world’s former nations largely obeyed their masters with almost no serious instances of rebellion. Until now.
He inhaled deeply, turning his eyes back toward the men seated around the table. The Secretariat of the United Nations, the supreme governing body of a united Earth. The first Secretariat had consisted entirely of his co-conspirators, but now Esteban was the last of the old guard. Soon, he knew, he would be gone as well, and the grand plan for world government would finally pass entirely to the next generation of chosen elites. He and his peers had made their bid for power and succeeded. He wondered if there was anyone else at the table with the same drive and ability as the men who’d forged UNGov’s supremacy. He and his original comrades had chosen all these men, promoted them through the bureaucracy, and carefully selected those few who would ascend to the ultimate height of power…the Secretariat itself. Some had been favorites, sycophants of the most powerful of his peers, but others had clawed their way to the top on the basis of ability and ruthlessness.
He had once thought a few of them might be worthy, but now he was questioning that assessment. They’d proven unable to deal with Taylor’s Rebellion, as it had come to be called in the closed confines of the Secretariat. And they still seemed far more interested in their internal power struggles than addressing the matter forcefully. He understood. Anyone who took the lead on solving a problem also risked taking much of the blame for failure. Esteban saw it throughout the layers of the bureaucracy he and his cohorts had built. They had been men of action, unafraid to stake their claim to power and do whatever was necessary to make it reality. But those who had come after were ruled more by caution than courage. They had been given power; they hadn’t seized it. And they lacked the dynamism of their predecessors.
“It is essential that we destroy this upstart and his band of fugitives before they are allowed to progress any closer to Earth.” Jake Taylor had led his ten thousand warriors from the hellish inferno of Erastus through Portals that had been held by the Tegeri, routes unknown to anyone on Earth. There was no way to predict where Taylor’s army would appear, no rational method for planning a defense. And Taylor’s force, led by the Ten Thousand, the surgically altered Supersoldiers, was slicing through the standard UN forces like a knife through butter.
“Gen…Taylor…” - Samovich thought better of according Taylor his self-proclaimed rank – “…is a significant threat, but not one we cannot handle.” Anton Samovich was one of the top members of the Secretariat, with a strong chance to succeed to the Secretary-General’s chair when Esteban finally died. He’d been damaged politically by the insurrection, but he was a survivor. He had sponsored Anan Keita’s appointment to the Secretariat, and Keita had been responsible for the Supersoldier program. A lot of the stink of the current crisis had splashed on Samovich, but the wily operative had managed to limit the damage. Samovich’s portfolio was internal security…and he’d used his resources not only to hold down the masses, but also to build up considerable dossiers on his associates on the Secretariat. Corruption was endemic throughout UNGov, but that didn’t prevent the dogpile when someone was exposed. Blackmail was a highly effective form of political power…and no one on the Secretariat doubted Samovich’s willingness to follow through on a threat.
Chang Li sat on the opposite side of the table, staring skeptically at Samovich. Li was another senior member of the Secretariat, and Samovich’s primary rival for the Secretary-General’s chair. The rivalry – and seething hatred - between the two was well known, and the Secretariat was divided into three camps. Samovich had four solid supporters, as did Chang. The neutrals, the other three votes that would decide who became the next Secretary-General, would go to whomever could offer the highest price. Even in a thoroughly corrupt system, there were those who had mastered the art better than others, and Li and Samovich were two of the best.
Li was about to speak, but Esteban beat him to it. “What action would you propose to contain this problem, Secretary Samovich?” Esteban turned back from the window, his eyes focusing on the Russian’s like two lasers. “Because your efforts to date have not exactly inspired confidence.”
Samovich sat firm, unmoving under the Secretary-General’s withering gaze. “I propose we match like with like…that we confront Taylor’s Supersoldiers with our own.”
A murmur rippled across the massive table. The enhancement program had been suspended immediately after the army on Erastus rebelled. UNGov was accustomed to whipped supplicants, not dangerous and defiant rebels, and the Supersoldier program had taken most of the blame for the disaster on Erastus.
Esteban continued his stare. “Do you think that is wise?” His tone was sincere.
“Yes, Secretary-General, I do.” Samovich returned the hard gaze. “Taylor’s men have been far more dangerous and troublesome because they have had the modifications…” – he glanced around the table, settling his gaze on Li – “…but blaming the rebellion itself on the mods, as if stronger muscles and greater endurance drove these men to insurrection, is a foolish political game, beneath the dignity of this august body.” His eyes did not waver from Li. “One we no longer have the luxury to pursue. It is time for us to put aside petty political squabbles and take decisive action to end this costly and destruction revolution before it spreads further. And to do so, we must be able to match our adversary in every way.”
Li stared back, his face flushed with anger. Samovich had boxed him into a corner. He’d used the Supersoldier program against Samovich every way he could, but now he remained silent. It was played out, and he knew it. Things were getting serious…Taylor and his people were beginning to look unstoppable, and UNGov had to do more than just sit and hope one of the planetary armies pulled off a miraculous victory. If Li argued against Samovich’s proposal, he’d be expected to offer an alternative. Inaction was no longer a luxury they could afford, and simply reinforcing every colony world, waiting to see where Taylor’s people might emerge, was untenable. And Li didn’t have anything else. He struggled to remain calm on the outside as he nodded to Samovich.
“Very well, Secretary Samovich.” Esteban leaned back in his chair. “What do you specifically propose?”
Samovich let out a quiet breath. He’d won this round. If his plan worked, if he was able to stop Taylor’s Rebellion in its tracks, he’d be halfway to the Secretary-General’s Seat. If it failed…well, that would be a problem, not only for him, but for UNGov as well.
“Taylor has approximately 9,600-9,800 modified soldiers remaining per out latest estimates. He had almost exactly 10,000 when he left Erastus, and he has fought three planetary campaigns since. His losses have been disturbingly light, and mostly among his non-modified troops.” Samovich paused, thinking for a second how much speculation he cared to offer. “I would estimate, based on desertion reports and strength levels on the planets involved, that approximately 6,000 soldiers have deserted and rallied to him, adding to the 3,500-4,000 unmodified personnel he had on Erastus.” A wild guess, he realized, but he was sure his numbers were close. “Of those, perhaps 1,500 of the non-modified personnel have been killed or permanently incapacitated by wounds.”
There were scowls around the table, mostly on the faces of Li and his allies. “These numbers are wild supposition,” he interrupted. “There is no factual basis to back these estimates.”
Samovich was going to argue, but Esteban beat him to it. “Secretary Li, we are attempting to craft a viable response to the current crisis. I agree that Secretary Samovich’s numbers represent his best guesses, but I question if there is better data available to us.” He stared at Li. “Do you have a methodology to suggest that offers greater accuracy?”
Li sank back into his chair, a sullen look on his face. “No.” He sighed softly. “I do not.”
“Then I suggest we put political infighting aside and allow Secretary Samovich to continue.” He looked back at Samovich, motioning almost imperceptibly for him to go on.
Samovich looked at Li then back at Esteban. “Thank you, Secretary-General.” He shot another lightning-fast glance at Li before he continued. “I propose that we produce our own force of 20,000 enhanced soldiers and keep them ready to intervene when Taylor’s people hit a world we are able to quickly reinforce from Earth.” He ignored the stunned looks around the table. “It will be an expensive project, I realize, but a necessary one. I do not see another reliable way to defeat Taylor and his forces.”
“The cost will be astronomical.” The voice was a different one, deeper, with a heavy Spanish accent. Enrique Cruz was one of Li’s cronies, a man who hadn’t had a thought of his own in years. “On a program that has failed utterly?” He paused, glancing back at Li before he continued. “You do recall that Taylor’s soldiers on Erastus were the field test for the program. Look how that worked out.”
“Yes,” Samovich snapped back. “Look how that worked out. They have obliterated every force they have engaged, with a ratio of casualties inflicted to those sustained of 20-1. I submit that the program itself is a profound success and, further, that we stand little chance of defeating Taylor’s people within an acceptable time frame unless we can match their abilities.”
“I believe Secretary Samovich is correct.” Esteban’s voice was firm, confident. He had made a decision, and he wasn’t inviting further debate. “I do not believe it will be overly difficult to add a course of mental conditioning to the program to prevent a repeat of Taylor’s unfortunate treachery, do you Secretary Samovich?”
The Russian nodded gently. “No, sir.” A short pause. “Not at all. Indeed, I believe there are a number of options to ensure obedience among the modified troops.”
“That should address the concern over another Taylor incident.” Esteban panned his eyes across the table. “Indeed, perhaps we should introduce a program of conditioning to our normal training regimen.” UNGov had never bothered to indoctrinate or brainwash its draftees. They were all sent offworld, to planets they would never leave. They had no options but to fight. There was no retreat, no mustering out. Defeat meant death for them all.
That was before the Tegeri intervened and turned a UNGov planetary army into a dangerous rebel force. The game had become more complex, and there was no room for carelessness. “Yes,” he continued after a few seconds’ thought. “I believe we should institute an immediate program of mental conditioning for all inductees.” He looked down the table. “Does everyone agree?” It was a perfunctory question. No one was going to argue with the Secretary-General.
Samovich nodded and joined the chorus of “Yes, sirs.”
“Very well.” Esteban looked back at Samovich and returned the Russian’s nod. “You may begin preparations for the selection process. I presume you will need veterans for the program.” A small frown crossed his lips as Samovich nodded his assent. Pulling 20,000 men from the planetary field forces wasn’t going to be easy. Most of those armies were still fighting the Machines and the Tegeri. UNGov couldn’t just withdraw all the veterans from those formations, not without the fronts collapsing on a dozen worlds. “We must be careful where we draw down the required forces.” He stared over at Anan Keita. “Your thoughts, Secretary Keita?”
Keita had remained silent during the meeting. His portfolio was interplanetary military, and the present crisis fell directly within his purview. But he was also dead center for taking the blame for the debacle on Erastus. He’d survived and maintained his Seat only because Samovich decided it would be more costly politically to sack his newest ally. Keita was grateful to dodge a bullet, but he didn’t fool himself. His position was still tenuous at best, and he’d made sure to tread cautiously.
“My thoughts, Secretary-General?” Keita was caught by surprise. Samovich’s influence and power had saved him from an ignominious impeachment – or worse - but he wasn’t expecting to be consulted on anything of import.
“Yes, Secretary Keita,” Esteban said, his tone impatient. “What are your thoughts on finding the 20,000 subjects for the reboot of the Supersoldier program?”
Keita cleared his throat. “Well, sir…I suggest we withdraw 25% of the two to five year men from each disputed colony world to form the required cadre. Then…”
“Some of those campaigns are still in the early stages of pacification,” Li interrupted. He spoke calmly, but his body language showed his tension. If Samovich’s plan was successful in destroying Taylor and his people, he would be a hair’s breadth away from Esteban’s Seat. Li had no illusions about long surviving Samovich’s ascension to the Secretary-Generalship, no more than the detested Russian would if Li won their power struggle. “Indeed, a withdrawal of that many veterans would severely endanger many of the campaigns.”
“Which is why I was going to propose doubling the numbers of new recruits sent to each world.” Keita glanced at Samovich, noting a slight nod of approval from his mentor. “I would expect casualties to spike sharply, especially among the new troops, but I believe that is an acceptable price to pay.”
“It’s not simply casualties among the recruits. It is logistics, supply, transport.” Li’s voice was marginally louder than before, and his hands were pressed flat against the table. “More troops require more equipment. They will overburden the training facilities.” He stared at Keita. “Have you considered all of this, Secretary Keita?”
Keita took a deep breath. He’d been silent for a long time, but the nod from Samovich and the attention from the Secretary-General encouraged him. It would take bold action to rehabilitate his political position, and now was as good a time as any to begin. “I have considered all of that, Secretary Li. However, despite such concerns, we are faced with a problem that must be addressed. Whatever the cost, whatever the inconvenience of our solution…it is almost certainly less destructive than doing nothing and allowing these rebels to continue their rampage.” He stared right at Li, mustering all his courage to do it. “Wouldn’t you agree, Secretary Li?”
Li looked like he’d tasted something sour, but he just returned Keita’s gaze and said, “Yes.” A short pause. “Indeed you are correct, Secretary Keita. Doing nothing is not an option.” Li suppressed his anger. He knew when to fold a losing hand.
“Very well…” Esteban rose as he spoke. “…then Secretaries Samovich and Keita are authorized to develop a comprehensive plan for the implementation of Project Supersoldier to create a force of 20,000 modified soldiers to face Taylor and his rebels.” He glanced briefly at Keita then settled his gaze on Samovich. “They will report to this body for final approval once the plan is ready for implementation.” He moved his head to the side, looking around the table and settling his focus on Li. “Are we all in agreement?” It was a rhetorical question. No one had disagreed with Raul Esteban in decades, at least not openly.
“Then it is decided.” He turned back toward Samovich. “Anton, we are all depending on you. I trust this plan will be carefully designed and flawlessly implemented.” There was menace hiding in the pleasant, businesslike tone. Esteban was giving Samovich another chance, but he was signaling he wouldn’t tolerate a repeat of the previous failure. “I want Taylor and his forces completely exterminated.” He paused. “Do you understand me?”
“Yes, Secretary-General.” Samovich felt a vice clamp down on his guts, but he fought to remain calm. “I understand perfectly.”