Portal Wars 1: Gehenna Dawn (26 page)

Emotion was creeping back into Taylor’s
voice. Anger, certainly, but urgency as well. He spoke like a
zealot exhorting his companions to join a crusade. “Think of the
Tegeri. You have fought them…been brainwashed to hate them, lied to
and convinced they were genocidal creatures. But it is we, my
friends, who have been the monsters. Our souls will bear that guilt
forever, for what we have done, we have done, despite the false
pretexts that drove us.”

His voice began to crack slightly. Taylor had
always carried guilt for the soldiers he lost; now he bore the
burden for all those his people had killed as well...the thousands
and thousands of Machines they had murdered in cold blood.

He could see the expressions change on the
faces around him. His friends, his loyal companions…only now were
they beginning to comprehend what he had told them, the true scope
of what had been done to them all.

“We must destroy this evil…and nothing must
be allowed to stand in our way. The shades of the dead scream for
justice…for vengeance.” Taylor was practically screaming. “Follow
me, my friends...trust in me. We must act. For therein lies our
sole hope for redemption…for absolution of the sins for which we
all share the guilt.”

He could see in their eyes. He was reaching
them…digging, unleashing that pain they kept buried deep. Karl
Young was the first. He stood up, thrusting his fist into the air.
“Jake is right! We must set things to right…we cannot allow this to
stand.” He looked right at Taylor. “I am with you, Jake. Wherever
this takes us…whatever we must do.”

Taylor stepped forward, grasping Frantic’s
arm, turning his head, looking toward the others.

“Of course we’re with you, Jake.” Blackie
rose, and walked toward Taylor. “Always.”

Bear stood next. “Always.” He moved to Jake,
throwing his massive arms around Taylor, Black, and Frantic.

Hank Daniels sat, watching the other four
embracing. He had an odd smile on his face. Taylor turned his head,
looking at the last member of his inner circle. “Hank?”

Daniels’ smile widened. “I’m just sitting
here waiting for you to tell me when we start, Dog.”

From the Journal of Jake Taylor:

I’ve tried for years to write about
the feeling of battle, but every time I started, the words just
wouldn’t come. It’s a hard thing to describe, especially to one who
hasn’t experienced it. I knew almost nothing about war when I
enlisted. I was familiar with a bit of the history, at least the
stuff on the approved list, but that’s more of who fought who…not
the actual experience of war. That part was a complete
mystery.

The biggest surprise to me was the
boredom. Actual combat is enormously stressful, but most of a
soldier’s life is spent on routine. In base, on patrol, doing
maneuvers. In a place like Erastus, that routine is miserable, and
long breaks between action can sap morale quicker than battle. If
you sit in base long enough, you forget how terrible combat is…then
you get into a nasty fight, and the routine doesn’t seem so bad
anymore. For a while.

Battle. How can I explain how that
feels? You’re scared, for starters. Even in a place like Erastus,
even when your hope and your will to live seem to be gone…you’re
still scared shitless. Anybody who says he’s been in battle and
wasn’t terrified is lying or crazy. Or both.

Surviving combat requires
concentration…or luck. And luck never lasts. It’s not easy to
maintain a cool focus when your heart is pounding in your ears and
sweat is pouring down your face. To make it through the battlefield
you need to think about every step you take, every move you make.
When you stop paying attention, even for a second, you do something
stupid. And that’s usually when you die.

That’s the hardest part for the
rookies. Most of them manage the fear…at least well enough. But
they get rattled…they get distracted. They forget to keep their
heads down or they get sidetracked, turned around. It’s not easy to
think straight, crouched behind a rock with hyper-velocity rounds
tearing into the ground all around you. You can be sharp as a razor
99% of the time, but the other 1% will get you killed. It just
takes one of those heavy projectiles moving at 3,000 mps to turn a
large chunk of your body to red mist.

There’s another feeling, one that’s
especially hard to describe. It’s related to the fear, certainly,
but it’s more than that too. When you’re in a firefight, or you’re
advancing across a field, you know you could take a hit at any
time. You can almost feel the projectiles coming at you. Your body
gets an odd series of urges, trying to somehow pull in on itself,
get out of the danger zone. But there’s nowhere to go. It’s almost
like the shakes, but not quite. When you’ve been in enough fights,
you can more or less control it, but it never goes away entirely.
At least it hasn’t for me.

At its heart, combat is primal. Our
primitive ancestors fought. Animals will fight if provoked. The
basic impulse is in all of us, waiting for a flood of chemicals
from the brain, calling the body to battle. Thinking, remembering
your training, is something else entirely. It requires harnessing
the wildness, controlling some of it and directing the
rest.

Instinctive combat is a solitary
affair. Your reflexes are designed for individual action. Your mind
wants to fight alone…and to flee alone when advisable. A
significant part of military training is learning to overcome this
and operate as a team. We are soldiers, not boxers or
streetfighters. Working together magnifies combat ability, and it
makes it far likelier for each individual to survive…though that
part must be forced into your brain…often by experience as well as
education.

A great Gallic warrior would
probably have defeated a Roman legionary in single combat. But a
full legion would have shattered an equal number of barbarians in a
pitched battle. The experience of combat for a soldier is a shared
one. We are stronger as a whole. If a part of that whole falters,
all are at much greater risk. When we don’t work together, when we
are not as one…that is when we fall.

“
I’ve
got the 213th
and the 173rd dug in on the heights.” Black was out of breath. He’d
positioned the two strikeforces himself; then he’d run back the 3
klicks to HQ.

“Well done, Blackie.” Taylor’s voice betrayed
an odd combination of emotions…determination, anger, confidence. He
was fighting hard to keep his other feelings hidden. For all the
anger and bravado about destroying any who stood in his way, Taylor
dreaded firing on other units from Erastus. It was one thing to
call for a crusade, to declare all who oppose you as enemy…but
these were his brothers in arms. They had suffered the same
injustice he had…their only difference from him was ignorance about
what had been done to them. They were only here following orders,
and they had no reason to doubt those commands. He was about to
start a civil war…soon his soldiers would be killing men they’d
fought beside. He was about to set brother against brother.

Taylor looked out over the terrain and
sighed. He didn’t fear defeat…he was certain he could win this
fight. He’d set a trap, one he was sure would work. The approaching
force was commanded by Major Simms. Taylor knew Simms well. He was
a moderately capable officer, but nothing more, and he’d been
promoted beyond his natural competency level. At best he would
effectively, but unimaginably, manage his forces. But his chances
of defeating a tactician of Taylor’s ability were nil. Still, he
was a good man, and Taylor was sick at the prospect of having to
destroy him…and all the men serving with him.

“Jake, they’re coming through the valley,
just like you said they would.” Young’s voice was a little tense
but, compared to his norm, it was downright calm. Like every
soldier on Erastus, Young had been forced into the army. More than
any of the inner circle other than Taylor, Young also wanted
vengeance. He didn’t relish the idea of fighting other Erastus
units any more than Jake, but if they chose to stand with UN
Central, Frantic was ready to send them all to hell. “I’ve got two
drones up. Looks like 3 battalions…maybe 3,200 total strength.”

“Thanks, Frantic.” Taylor was having trouble
keeping the lingering sadness out of his voice. “Keep me posted as
you get new data.” He wouldn’t get much more info, Taylor
thought…those 2 drones won’t last. His forces had to preserve their
equipment, at least until they found some source of resupply. So,
unless something unexpected happened when the battle started, there
weren’t going to be any more drone launches.

Taylor stood silently for a few minutes,
staring out in the direction of the approaching enemy. He couldn’t
see them yet, but it wouldn’t be long. His own people were dug into
a makeshift trenchline…all except the ambushing force up on the
hills. He’d considered marching out of his defensive zone to begin
the pacification of Erastus, but he knew UN Central would go
ballistic at his rebellion, and he decided to take advantage of the
predictability of their response. As expected, they’d thrown the
first force they could assemble at him prematurely. He was anxious
to get the war for Erastus over, but he wasn’t about to interrupt
when his enemy was making a mistake.

He started walking forward. “I’m going up to
the line, Blackie. I want to get a closer look.”

“Jake, this rebellion is over if we lose you.
You know that.”

“I’ll be careful.” Taylor was lying. He had
something in mind, a bold move that was anything but safe. He’d
rejected it when it first came to his mind, but the closer he got
to having to start shooting at fellow-Erastus men, the better an
idea it seemed. Now he’d decided. If it worked, he’d save thousands
of lives and advance the cause. If it didn’t, he’d be dead in half
an hour.

Taylor peered over the trench. Here they
come, he thought…it could be a diagram from the training manual.
Major Simms didn’t disappoint. His men were perfectly – and
predictably – arrayed for an attack. They were going to march right
into the ambush Taylor had set for them. And they were going to get
massacred.

“Jake…” It was Blackie on the com.
“…Lieutenant Davison is asking if he should commence fire.” Davison
commanded the heavy mortars…and the enemy was starting to move into
effective range.

Taylor was silent, staring out at the
approaching forces. He closed his eyes tightly, longing to shed the
tears he was no longer able to produce. He’d been grappling with a
choice. Should he give the orders…and watch his men slaughter their
old brothers in arms? No…he’d decided on another option.

“Negative, Blackie.” Taylor’s response was
tentative, uncertain. “Tell him to hold fire. All units are to hold
fire until I order otherwise.”

“Jake?” Blackie sounded confused. He was
going to argue, but he just sighed and replied, “Yes, sir.”

Taylor stared out for another few minutes.
It’s now or never, he thought…Simms’ people will start firing any
second. “Once it starts, I’ll never stop it,” he whispered to
himself.

He directed a thought to his implanted com,
opening a channel to Major Simms. The com units were hardwired to
link with each other, and neither side was able to shut out the
other’s communications. “Don, this is Jake Taylor. Are you reading
me?”

He climbed up over the trench, the soldiers
around him watching in horror as he stood straight up and started
walking toward the enemy. Taylor’s heart was pounding, but he kept
his pace steady. To any onlooker, he was as calm as a man out for a
pleasant stroll.

“I read you, Colonel.” There was suspicion in
Simms’ voice, but curiosity too. “What do you want? Hurry it up. My
orders are clear.”

Taylor felt like a card player, shoving all
his chips into the center of the table. He didn’t know if he had a
good hand or if this was a bluff, but he was damned sure it was the
biggest gamble of his life.

Now, he thought…directing his com to expand
the channel to every soldier present, on both sides. “We are not
enemies, Major.” Taylor’s voice was firm, but friendly. “There is
no reason for us to fight each other…today or any other day.” He
kept walking forward as he spoke. He was 50 meters ahead of his
line now. Blackie was calling frantically on the com, but Taylor
ignored it, remaining on the open line.

“Colonel Taylor, this is pointless. As I
said, my orders are clear. Unless you are planning to surrender
yourself along with your entire force, we have nothing to discuss.”
Simms didn’t realize at first that Taylor was broadcasting to his
entire army. “What is this, Taylor?” There was anger in Simms’
voice now. “If you wish to communicate you will do so with me and
me alone. Is that understood?”

“What I have to say is for every man here.”
Taylor’s tone remained calm, friendly. He refused to take any
bait…losing his temper would be disastrous now. “Many of you know
me, have served under me. And the rest of you are familiar with
me…with my reputation.” Jake paused, taking a deep breath, trying
to stay cool as he continued walking forward.

“I am no traitor. Certainly not to anyone on
this battlefield today.”

“Colonel Taylor…this is pointless. We have
our…”

“Major Simms, allow me to finish. I am
walking alone toward your lines. If what I say does not convince
you, I will be exposed to your forces. You can end this fight
before it begins.”

Taylor was almost 200 meters from his own
troops, and moving into effective assault rifle range of the
opposing forces. He was making himself a sitting duck, risking all
to make his entreaty.

“I did not take the actions I did for no
reason. My officers and the men facing you here today did not take
the actions they did for no reason.” Taylor took a deep breath. OK,
he thought, here goes.