Read Portal Wars 1: Gehenna Dawn Online
Authors: Jay Allan
Tags: #Science Fiction, #starship troopers, #Dystopian, #space war, #marines, #future war, #powered armor, #space marine, #crimson worlds
Portal Wars 1: Gehenna Dawn
Gehenna Dawn
Portals Wars I
By Jay Allan
Gehenna Dawn
Jay Allan
Copyright © 2013 Jay Allan Books
Published by System 7 Publishing at Smashwords
Tombstone (A Crimson Worlds Prequel)
Bitter Glory (A Crimson Worlds Prequel)
Marines (Crimson Worlds I)
The Cost of Victory (Crimson Worlds II)
A Little Rebellion (Crimson Worlds III)
The First Imperium (Crimson Worlds IV)
The Line Must Hold (Crimson Worlds V)
To Hell’s Heart (Crimson Worlds VI)
The Last Veteran (Shattered States I)
The Dragon's Banner
The Shadow Legions (Crimson Worlds VII)
(December 2013)
The Gates of Hell (A Crimson Worlds Prequel)
(January 2014)
Even Legends Die (Crimson Worlds VIII)
(March 2014)
Join the Jay Allan Mailing List at
www.crimsonworlds.com for publication announcements and free copies
of select stories throughout the year (email addresses are never
shared). Please feel free to email me with any questions at
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www.jayallanbooks.com
www.crimsonworlds.com
“If tyranny and oppression come to this land it will
be in the guise of fighting a foreign enemy.”
― James Madison
A Warrior in Hell
Chapter 1
From the Journal of Jake Taylor:
There are two suns here, and no
night. The brightness is constant; it wears you down until you can
feel the madness building inside you…a craving, a painful longing,
willing in vain for it to be dark. Then the wave of frustration, of
anger and bitterness when there is nothing but the light, the
unending light. Even when you close your eyes you can still see the
hazy orange glow, constant, unceasing.
But it's not the light that's
hardest to take; it’s the heat. Erastus is a hot world, hotter than
the most sunbaked desert back home. When you first get here you
can't breathe, and when you do force air into your lungs it feels
like fire exploding in your chest. Your instincts conflict…first
trying to stop you from taking another searing, agonizing breath,
then succumbing to the irresistible need for air. You think you are
going to die then and there, to yield to natural forces you were
never supposed to survive. But you don't. A world like Erastus
teaches you just how adaptable man really is.
On Earth I loved the night, the
quiet darkness, the cool stillness, a field of twinkling stars the
only light in an inky sky. Now I can hardly remember what it felt
like, sitting on the porch breathing the crisp air. I always loved
autumn, the first chill of the year that sent me to the closet to
fetch another blanket. Now all I know is a hellish perversion of
eternal summer. Cold? A memory almost faded now. The concept
remains, a lingering vestige, but the recollection of how it felt?
Gone.
The FNGs were dying…they were dying like
flies. The 213th Strike Force was pinned down on Blackrock Ridge,
and they were catching hell. The Machines were attacking from three
sides, trying to cut off the only line of retreat. The strategy was
predictable - most of their operations were - but that didn’t mean
it wouldn’t work. If they closed the circle, no one from the 213th
would make it back to base.
“Sergeant Taylor, get your section into that
gap. Keep it open, whatever it takes. The ground’s too rugged here
for evac.” Lieutenant Cadogan’s voice was raw. He was trying,
without much success, to hide his fatigue. Both suns were in the
sky, and the strike force had been fighting on the open ridge for
over an hour. Half the troops were almost incoherent with heat
exhaustion, and the rest weren’t far behind. The Machines felt the
heat too, as much as they did anything, but they were less
vulnerable to its effects. Which made fighting during midday a big
advantage for them.
“Yes, sir.” Jake Taylor’s voice was gravelly,
somber. He hated to see the new guys getting themselves massacred.
His people had been in reserve, so he couldn’t see everything
happening up on the forward line. But he bet himself over a dozen
of the rookies were down already, and probably more.
Taylor spent a lot of time lecturing the new
recruits when they first arrived, but not many of them listened…and
that meant not many of them survived. Not on Erastus. Not against
an enemy like the Machines.
“Let’s go, 2nd Section.” Taylor took a deep,
searing breath. He’d been on Erastus a long time, long enough for
his body to adjust to the harsh environment. His was muscular, but
lean and wiry, his physique adapted to the constant dehydration. It
didn’t matter how long you stayed on Erastus, how used to it you
became…the air was still goddamned hot. “Follow me…into the gap.
We’ve got to hold the door open.”
Taylor’s troops snapped into position,
following him down the jagged rocks of the ridgeline into the small
gully behind. The narrow depression led back toward a small
plateau…flat ground where the evac ships could land. The strike
force could withdraw that way under cover…as long as the Machines
didn’t break through and block the route.
Taylor’s troops were veterans mostly, though
none had been on Erastus as long as he had. Jake had been onplanet
five years, a tenure that made him part of an elite group. Men
didn’t survive that long in the battle lines. The Machines killed
them…or Erastus did. Or they went mad from the heat, the thirst,
the fear. Not many men could survive that long on the front lines
in hell.
He waved a sunbaked arm, worn assault rifle
gripped firmly in his hand. “I want two lines. First team left,
second team right.” His voice was hoarse and scratchy…everyone got
that way on Erastus sooner or later. Yelling felt like broken glass
on his parched throat, but it was the only way his people could
hear him, even with the com implants. “I want 3rd and 4th teams in
reserve, ready to move to either flank.”
“Blackie, get your HHV set up between those
two rock outcroppings to your south. That should give your guys
good cover and a nice field of fire.” Taylor tended to micromanage
his teams. He couldn’t help himself. His grasp of the field was
extraordinary – as it had been from the day he stepped out of the
Portal into the blazing sunlight of Erastus. He was a raw cherry
with no military training other than what he’d gotten in Basic…but
there was something in him, some hidden talent that suddenly
emerged. His eye immediately focused on key positions, and his mind
rapidly assessed the strengths and weaknesses of the tactical
situation. There weren’t many things more important in small unit
tactics than a good feel for the ground, and Taylor was one of the
best. It was one of the things - one of many things - that made him
such a good natural soldier…and leader.
“Got it, Sarge.” Tony Black’s voice was deep,
with a heavy urban accent. “Deploying now.” Black was the senior
corporal in the section and the longest-serving veteran after
Taylor. He was Jake’s best friend…and his go-to man for anything
difficult or vital.
“I’m counting on you, Blackie.” Taylor
trusted Black…as much as he did anyone. The corporal was a little
shit, maybe 170 centimeters in his boots, but he was tough as
nails. Taylor had seen him cornered in a ravine by three Machines
and live to tell about it. Black had grown up in the streets of the
Philly Metrozone, just about the worst of the urban freezones in
the US sector, and his survival instincts were well developed long
before he ended up in UN Forces: Erastus. “They’re going to come
through right below that position. I can feel it. You should be
able to wipe the field clean.” As long as there aren’t too many, he
thought, keeping that part to himself.
“I’m on it, Sarge.” Black’s voice was
confident, definitive. He’d served with Jake a long time. If “Mad
Dog” Taylor said the enemy was coming through that ravine, it was
as good as a guarantee to him. “If they come this way, we’ll put
‘em down.”
“Fuck, it’s hot,” Taylor muttered to himself,
running his hand along the back of his neck, wiping away the sweat.
He grabbed his bottle, and put it to his lips. He was disciplined,
only allowing himself a small sip…barely enough to wet his parched
lips. Water was precious. In this desert, it was life itself.
He turned and trotted up over a small rise,
crouching low as he did. He wasn’t sure he was exposed to the
enemy’s line of sight, but there was no point sticking his head out
and taking chances. Carelessness got soldiers killed; that was
something he constantly reminded the cherries…and his veterans too.
It only took an instant of distraction to end up on the KIA list,
and he’d seen experienced soldiers, men who should have known
better, make the same mistakes as newbies straight out of the
Portal.
He scrambled down into the gully and up the
other side, coming out just behind the hulking figure of a man.
“OK, Bear, get your boys over to the east. Spread out and grab some
cover.” Taylor paused for an instant before he added, “My gut says
they’re going to hit us from the west, over by Blackie’s position.
But keep your eyes open, just in case they come in from both
directions.”
The big man turned and looked back, nodding.
The commander of Taylor’s 2nd team, Chuck “Bear” Samuels was a
giant of a man, well over 2 meters tall, with huge shoulders and
powerful, muscled arms. Erastus usually finished off the big ones
quickly…they just couldn’t take the heat. But Samuels handled
everything the planet and the Machines threw at him and kept right
on going. Another two-striper, he was the best natured guy in the
unit, cheerful and boisterous…when he wasn’t fighting the Machines,
that is.
“On the way, Boss.” Taylor was never sure why
Bear called him boss, but he always let it go. He got a kick out of
the way it sounded in the gentle giant’s slow southern drawl. “We
got some good cover over there. I’ll get the boys situated real
good. Just in case.” Like Black, Samuels considered Taylor’s
instincts a sure thing. If the sergeant said the enemy was going to
hit the other flank, then that’s what they were going to do. But he
was a veteran too, and he didn’t like taking chances any more than
Taylor did. So he wouldn’t let his guard drop, not for an instant.
Not after all the times Jake had pounded that into his head.
“Get to it, Be…” Taylor’s head snapped
around. It was fire…HHV fire. The heavy hyper-velocity weapon was a
tripod-mounted, rapid fire, infantry support gun firing depleted
uranium projectiles at 3,200 mps. In a good position, a skilled HHV
crew could sweep whole sections of a battlefield clean, tearing
apart anything foolish enough to show itself. It was particularly
effective against the Machines. The alien soldiers were far less
sensitive to casualties, and they frequently attacked in the open,
their dense formations attempting to overrun the human forces with
massive waves. Against a few well-placed HHVs, that strategy was
the rough equivalent of suicide.
“Get to it, Bear.” Taylor turned and jogged
down the hillside without waiting for an acknowledgement. He had
his other two teams and the support personnel stacked up in the
ravine. He slid down the rocky slope and ran along the bottom to
where he’d posted the reserves.
“Longbow, grab yourself a vantage point off
to the west.” Tom Warner was standing closest to Taylor, watching
the sergeant scramble toward the position. He was the section’s
sniper, the deadliest shot Taylor had ever seen. Warner constantly
insisted he was even better with a bow than a rifle, and he had a
seemingly limitless collection of stories to back the claim. No one
was sure what to believe or not, but eventually the name stuck.
“Yes, Sarge.” Warner strapped his weapon on
his back and trotted off past Taylor. The MZ-750 computer-assisted
sniper rifle was a long weapon, and the muzzle extended more than
half a meter over Warner’s head. In the hands of a well-trained
shot, the MZ-750 could hit a man-sized target in partial cover at 4
klicks. Warner was an expert.