My army is being destroyed. The battle we fight is one to the death, against an enemy well-equipped to face us. The easy victories are a thing of the past, and my soldiers die now…they die in the thousands.
I knew when this crusade began that we faced an almost impossibly difficult road, that few of those who followed me would survive the journey. Nothing happening on this field of battle should be a surprise to me, yet it always is. There are some horrors you cannot prepare yourself to endure, some nightmares that shock and scar your soul no matter how much you expected them.
But there is no choice, no alternative I can embrace. I am the only one who knows the doom of which T’arza spoke, and I will shoulder that burden myself for now. But UNGov must be destroyed and Earth united to face another challenge, the Darkness that is coming from the depths of space.
I must get my people back home, back to Earth. But I cannot leave live enemies behind me. I will not. I must find a way to end this battle, to destroy our adversaries before they do the same to us.
The black, moonless sky was lit every few seconds by blinding flashes, as the battle continued unabated deep into the night. The ferocity of the fighting hadn’t ebbed, not a bit. If anything, darkness had brought an increase in intensity as both sides, exhausted and bled white, threw in their last reserves, hoping to maintain their effort, to outlast the enemy.
The ridgeline in the distance was alive with explosions and the sounds of war. The two sides had been fighting since dawn, when Taylor’s army launched an all-out attack on the main enemy positions. The front was vast, over 20 kilometers, and battle raged over every centimeter of that bloodsoaked ground. But the ridge was the key. If the enemy held on, the attack would falter. If it fell, Taylor’s troops would break through into open country and have a chance at victory.
“Get your battalion forward now, Sanchez.” Tony Black shouted into the com, his voice barely audible over the din of battle. He was exhausted and wracked with stress, and his urban Philly accent was thick as he barked out commands. “You are to reinforce and support Major Young’s forces.” Young’s men were advancing steadily, but Black knew their losses had been brutal. They’d need reinforcements to keep their forward momentum, and Sanchez’s group was all he had left to give them.
“Yes, sir.” Sanchez’s reply was crisp, immediate. His people were still fresh, the last of the uncommitted veterans from Erastus. Now the army’s reserve was down to a few battalions of unmodified soldiers, formations assembled from the men who’d responded to Taylor’s recruiting on the other worlds. Black knew they were good soldiers, but they were unmodified, and he couldn’t have the same confidence in them he did in men who’d fought on the burning sands of Erastus. Black knew, almost better than anyone, just what it meant to be a veteran of Gehenna.
He stared out over the darkened plain, at the grim silhouette of wrecked vehicles and abandoned weapons. He could see the devastation in the flickering light of the fires, the shattered and pockmarked ground where the Army of Liberation had been fighting a horrific battle of annihilation for almost 18 hours without a pause. Soldiers were battling on that line, low on ammunition, with empty water bottles and parched throats. He knew the men of the army, and he was sure there were hundreds still fighting with wounds that should have sent them to a field hospital. One thing he knew for sure – if the battle was lost, it would not be for lack of good men giving all they had.
Taylor had surprised him with the orders for the attack. Black didn’t understand what had gotten into his friend. He knew as well as Taylor that time wasn’t on their side in this fight. The enemy would only grow stronger and they weaker and lower on supplies. But Taylor was possessed now, insistent the attack continue without stop until the enemy forces on Juno were completely destroyed. He kept pushing more forces forward, driving his men past the breaking point. Black had tried to talk to him, but he’d gotten nowhere. Taylor had been adamant. The battle would continue without pause until the enemy was defeated.
Black watched as Sanchez’s soldiers began to file past his position. Young’s people were about four klicks forward, assaulting the fortified enemy positions on the ridge. Black didn’t like releasing his last real reserve force, but he couldn’t see how Young’s 1,300 troops – how any 1,300 men – could take that position. And smashing through on that sector was crucially important. A breakthrough there would open up the battlefield and get some maneuver back into the operation. Black knew there was no way they were going to win the battle charging fortifications nonstop. Maybe, just maybe, if they could punch through on a wide enough frontage, they might break the stalemate and gain the upper hand.
“And then what?” he whispered grimly to himself. The enemy will just fall back to another position, he thought. Yes, they would take heavy losses in the retreat, but they could afford the casualties, and they could always get more reinforcements from Earth. Black was well aware that the men Taylor had brought to Juno were all he had, all he could get. Every casualty was irreplaceable. They were pushing forward, driving the enemy back, meter by meter. But they were losing too many men in the process.
“Too many,” Black whispered to himself, watching the last of Sanchez’s people jog by.
“You outnumber the enemy 2-1, and they are attacking your prepared positions.” Keita was angry, and it was apparent in his tone. “Yet your forces keep yielding ground, General.” Keita stared at Ralfieri, his eyes ablaze. The political disasters of the past year had tempered some of Keita’s arrogance, but now he was on Juno, the only member of the Secretariat on the entire planet. Far away from his political rivals and clearly the highest ranked individual present, his pride and ego were waxing once again. He spoke to Ralfieri, veteran commander of two victorious Portal world campaigns, almost as if issuing commands to a servant.
Ralfieri bit back on his anger, trying to ignore the heat building around his neck. He wanted to grab the loud-mouthed politician by the throat and choke the life out of him. But he’d served too long to allow himself to give in to such desires. He understood the arrogance of politicians, and he also realized it was they – not the soldiers, not the citizens – who truly held power. Dealing with them was a necessary evil, and he was too seasoned a veteran to let his temper lead him into an argument with a member of the Secretariat.
“But, Secretary Keita, the situation is far more complex than that.” Ralfieri paused. He, too, was shocked at the fighting ability of Taylor’s men. The Supersoldiers of the Black Corps were the physical equivalent of their adversaries, but Taylor and his warriors had been forged on Erastus. Throughout all the Portal worlds, the name Erastus had been synonymous with hell itself. On a dozen planets, grim warriors prodded each other with sayings like, “At least we’re not on Erastus.” But for all the token acknowledgements of the brutal conditions faced by the soldiers who’d actually been sent there to fight, Ralfieri hadn’t realized just how hard and grim those veterans had become. Until now.
“No excuses, General. You have numbers, better supply and, currently, the advantage of defending.” Keita was motivated by more than self-entitled arrogance. There was fear too, the dread of what would become of him if the battle on Juno was lost…or even won too late. He was on shaky ground already on the Secretariat, and he knew he’d never survive if his sponsor lost his long power struggle with Chang Li. Indeed, if Keita returned from a defeat on Juno, he had no doubt Samovich himself would have him killed, before Li even got the chance.
“Secretary, these soldiers we are fighting are veterans of the harshest place men have ever fought. Even my Black Corps troops cannot match them evenly.” Ralfieri’s voice was becoming softer. He knew he wasn’t getting through to Keita, and he was starting to give up the effort. “It is more than just the experience of Erastus. They fight with a spirit I cannot explain. They have a motivation, some kind of inner fire than drives them to push beyond normal human endurance.”
Ralfieri was grasping at an understanding of what truly drove Taylor’s men. Belief in a cause was something that had largely vanished from human culture. The war against the Tegeri was driven by fear, not by inspiration. The feelings of patriotism and pride soldiers had felt in some of the old nation states had been largely forgotten in the decades of UNGov rule – and the idea of men sworn to fight tyranny had been lost utterly, brutally eradicated by years of reeducation camps and terroristic internal security.
“Nonsense excuses, General. Yes, these men were hardened by their years on Erastus, but your soldiers are veterans also. Your numerical and supply advantages should be more than sufficient to counter whatever X factor you assign to service on Erastus.”
Ralfieri was just beginning to comprehend what his forces were facing, but he knew Keita was beyond understanding any of it. The politician was a creature of the system, and he would never be able to rationalize that there was more to success on the battlefield than numbers and equipment. Keita knew only the UNGov way, that of self-serving expediency, of constant politics and maneuvering for personal power. He was ill-equipped to understand what drove fighting men, the sense of brotherhood that gave veterans their true strength. The spirit and camaraderie that made men rush back into the killing zone they had just escaped to carry a wounded comrade back to safety.
Anan Keita could never comprehend what made Taylor’s soldiers so formidable. But Antonio Ralfieri was beginning to see…and he started to wonder if his people were fighting on the right side.
Aaron Jamison crept forward, holding his assault rifle at the ready. It was dark, the battlefield lit only by explosions and fire. Jamison’s mechanical eyes adjusted to the low light levels, and he was able to see well enough to get around. He kept reminding himself the enemy had the same ability. Jamison and his people had fought in all of Taylor’s battles, but they hadn’t faced a foe with their own capabilities until Juno.
He heard a gunship approaching. His enhanced ears picked it up kilometers away, but it sounded like it was heading his way. It was coming from behind, which probably meant it was one of theirs. But not definitely.
“On your guard, boys.” Jamison spoke with a heavy Irish accent, but his men were used to it, and he knew they all understood what he was saying. “Airship incoming.” There was no way to know for sure if the aircraft was friendly or not, and if there was any chance the enemy was about to drop a batch of FAEs on his position, he wanted his men ready.
He looked ahead, but it was still quiet. The enemy had pulled back on this section of front. There was no knowing how far, or where they would stop and form another defensive line. For all he knew, they could be hiding just over the hill he was climbing, waiting on the reverse slope to ambush his men. The scouting reports from the drones had come pretty frequently earlier in the battle, but now they’d slowed to a crawl. He knew the captain had requested a flight three times, but the high command had to conserve its supply of the recon devices. And that meant Jamison had no idea what was waiting over that hillside. That’s where I’d be if I was them, he thought warily.
“Conover, Gupta…scout forward and check out the downslope of this ridge.” Gupta was the platoon’s scout, and Conover was its most experienced enlisted man.
“Yes, Lieutenant.” The two replied almost simultaneously.
Jamison turned again, looking at the sky behind him. The sounds of the gunship were louder. Indeed, now it sounded like at least two craft incoming.
He flipped his com to the platoon frequency. “I want everybody to take cover now.” He wasn’t taking a chance of his people getting caught out in the open by an air attack. He still figured the gunships were friendlies, but he’d started to doubt his judgment when there was still no contact.
Just then his com crackled to life. “AOL ground units, this is Red Squadron Leader inbound. You are instructed to take cover. We are bombing enemy units 600 meters forward of your position.” Jamison still wasn’t used to the Army of Liberation designation, but he sighed with relief that the birds were friendlies.
So there are enemy troops over that hillside, he thought. “Everybody down. We’ve got FAEs coming in just over the ridge.” Six hundred meters was close, very close.
Fuck, Jamison thought an instant later. “Gupta, Conover, return to your former positions immediately.” On the unitwide com: “Repeat…everybody get down. We’ve got friendly air about to bomb enemy positions on the other side of the hill.”
He jogged toward a small crater and jumped into it. “Gupta, Conover,” he repeated, the urgency in his voice increasing.
He heard the gunships streaking across the sky, coming in low. It sounded like they were just over his head, but he knew they’d be at least 100 meters up.
“Order received, Lieutenant. We’re on the way...” It was Conover, and his report stopped abruptly, just as the top of the hillside erupted into billowing flames.
Jamison dove down into the crater, shouting into his com as he did. “Gupta? Conover? Respond!”
He felt the wave of heat surging down from the hillside, and he tried to imagine the inferno raging just over the crest. The whole area was as bright as day for half a minute before the roiling flames began to subside, and darkness slowly crept back over the field.
Jamison was still crouched in his crater, shouting madly into his com. “Gupta? Conover? Respond!” But there was no reply, nothing but the static.
“Charge!” Bear Samuels’ shout ripped through the com lines and, as one, 975 enhanced soldiers leapt over a small rise and ran toward the enemy position half a klick away. The enemy was withdrawing, retreating from the ridge they’d held for the past 6 hours. Samuels was determined to hit them hard before they got away. He was as uncomfortable as ever with the killing, but he knew the only way to end the fighting was total victory. Taylor’s actions and orders were clear. The fight would continue without a stop until the battle was won. And anyone Samuels let escape here would only come back to fight his men later. Mercy now would only condemn more of his own men.
He ran across the field, leading the charge himself. He and his Supersoldiers would cover the distance in less than a minute, and then they’d have a clear field of fire on the fleeing enemy troops. If his people stayed close, if they exacted a heavy enough toll, maybe they could extend the breakthrough and bring this nightmare of a battle closer to an end.
The enemy fire was light and sporadic. Most of the defenders had already fled, many of them dropping their weapons as they ran for their lives. Samuels pushed himself, running as hard as his enhanced muscles could manage, and he bounded over the top, firing as he did. There were enemy soldiers all across the plain ahead, fleeing. It was a wholesale rout, and when Samuels stopped to look around, he understood what had finally broken these Supersoldiers. The entire ridge was blackened, the result of repeated FAE attacks. The AOL gunships had pounded this position, dropping load after load of fiery death on the defenders.
The airmen had paid heavily to punch this hole for Samuels’ people. He could see the wreckage of at least four of the giant airships, blackened smoldering hulks lying silently on the great plain. It didn’t take more than one look for Samuels to realize that none of the crews had made it out of those birds. They had paid a heavy price, and he’d be damned if he’d allow that sacrifice to be in vain.
“Pursue, men. Pursue and maintain fire.” He reached around and pulled a fresh clip from his belt, ejecting the spent cartridge as he did. “Let’s go, boys. Forward to victory!” He slammed the clip in place and ran down onto the plain, gunning down the fleeing enemy as he did. He knew he’d hate himself later, recount all the helpless, fleeing men he’d massacred. But there was no time for that now. Bear Samuels had a gentle soul, one the soldier side of him caused constant torment. But nothing was stronger to him than loyalty. Loyalty to these men he led…and to Jake Taylor. “Let’s go, boys. Pour it into them!”
“Jake, this is insane. We’re pushing the men forward without a break, without a chance to regroup. Even the enhanced troops are becoming exhausted.” Black was upset. He’d been holding his tongue, but the dam had broken, and it was all pouring out. “Friendly fire incidents are up 350%.” He stared at Taylor as he spoke, his hands clenched in frustration. “We’re so disorganized and tired, we’re gunning down our own men.”
Taylor stood quietly, impassively, listening to his friend’s protests. Finally, he just said, “Blackie, we’ve got no choice. We need to destroy the enemy, and we need to do it now.”
“I’m not saying not to attack, but I don’t understand this sudden urgency. We’re sending in FAE strikes as quickly as we can turn the surviving birds around. The crews are exhausted. It’s so rushed, we’re not even getting notice to ground units of incoming strikes.” Black paused. “Does it make you happy that we’re incinerating our own men in some of these attacks?” Black was immediately sorry for the last comment, wishing he could take it back. He disagreed with Taylor’s orders, but he didn’t for a second think his friend didn’t ache for all the soldiers he lost.
“Colonel Black, I am sorry you don’t agree with my tactical judgment.” Taylor’s voice was cold, unemotional. It was taking all his strength of will to keep it that way. He was mourning every one of his men who’d been lost. Every one. But there was no place for that now, no time to indulge emotions. Not after what T’arza had told him. “However, my orders stand. We will not let up the pressure on the enemy no matter what. All units are to continue to attack, and they will do so until we have utterly destroyed the UNGov forces on Juno.” He paused an instant, his mechanical eyes staring into Black’s. “Is that understood, Colonel Black?”
Black hesitated for an instant, returning Taylor’s hard gaze. “Yes, sir,” he finally snapped out, his voice hard and brittle.
“Then I suspect you have work to do, Colonel.” Taylor struggled to keep his voice firm. “Dismissed.”
Black raised his hand in a perfect salute and spun around on his heels. Taylor watched the man who had been his closest companion through the years on Erastus as he walked crisply from the room, and he tried to imagine what was going through his friend’s mind.
It tore at Taylor’s insides not to confide in Black, not to tell him all he’d discussed with T’arza. But he had resolved not to burden Black or any of his officers, with the terrible truth. All men had a breaking point. Taking on UNGov, resolving to free Earth from tyranny – that was enough for any man to bear. How could he tell them their sworn mission, as impossible a task as it appeared to be, was just the beginning? That if they somehow managed to liberate Earth, they would have to rally humanity to face another, graver threat.
Taylor wanted to tell Black, he wanted to share the burden with his friend. But he’d decided this load was his and his alone, and he was determined to stand by that. His men faced enough hardship and loss, and he wasn’t going to add to it. If they survived, if they managed to free Earth…then he would tell them. But not before.