Portal Wars 1: Gehenna Dawn (30 page)

He’d never seen anything like these Erastus
soldiers. They ran far faster than his troops, and they did it at
high noon under the blazing light of both suns. Their aim was
uncanny, and they functioned together with inexplicable fluidity.
There was no way his people were going to be able to clear the rest
of the objective.

“Colonel Graves, sir, I must advise you that
my forces have almost no chance of completing your orders.” He was
nervous, trying to speak with as much false confidence as he could
muster. Officers in the UN Internal Security forces didn’t prosper
by questioning the orders of superiors…especially in the elite
paramilitary units.

“There is no alternative, Captain.” Graves
wasn’t angry. Shinto was just telling him the truth. But Kazan was
on the com every twenty minutes, pushing for faster progress.
Graves was starting to get pissed about being pushed so hard to
pull the bureaucrat’s ass out of the fire, but there was nothing he
could do about it. “Launch the assault immediately.” Graves took a
short breath, running through his OB quickly in his mind. “I’m
sending you Lieutenant Garcia and his men as reinforcements. That’s
another 550 troops, Shinto…don’t you ask me for any more. That’s
all you’re getting. Now, just take the rest of the objective.”

“Yes, sir.” Shinto’s voice was still tense,
but there was relief there too at the prospect of support. “I will
launch the attack in ten minutes.”

“Very well.” Graves cut the line.

Shinto activated the unit-wide com.
“Attention, all personnel. We will be advancing in ten minutes.” He
could practically here the groans among his exhausted troops. “We
have reinforcements incoming to support the assault.” He had no
obligation to let the men know, but he figured it would help
morale.

He walked up to the edge of the trench,
peering out cautiously at the enemy-occupied buildings on the
eastern edge of the compound. What, he wondered…what is waiting
over there?

Carson Jones lay perfectly still, his
cybernetic eyes fixed on the jagged edge of the enemy trench. He’d
been stalking his target for over an hour. An enemy officer, the
one commanding the whole attack in this sector. He was confident
about his ID on the target, but the bastard hadn’t shown himself
enough to give a good shot. Jones was more than four klicks away.
He could make the kill, but he needed a decent opening.

They called Jones “The Surgeon.” It wasn’t so
much because he was a great sniper, but because he was a great
sniper with an uncanny ability to get a fix on the highest value
targets in a formation. His list of kills included a roster of
Machine officers and two Tegeri. And over the last few days, 14 UN
Internal Security unit commanders.

His NIS was linked to the SK-11
computer-assisted sniper’s rifle, providing him with real time
adjustment to wind conditions and other variables, all controlled
through the direct neural connection. All Carson needed was the raw
marksmanship and the patience to wait for his shot, both of which
he had.

He was lying in the rubble of a wrecked
storage shed on the outskirts of the UNFE headquarters complex. The
invading UN troops had taken the western half of the compound, and
now they were massing to assault the eastern perimeter. The Erastus
troops weren’t really defending the place; they were falling back
slowly, bleeding the attackers. Taylor had been clear…the orders
were to inflict as much damage as possible and withdraw before
taking serious losses. Those orders had been carried out to the
letter. The enemy had taken at least 300 casualties so far, in
addition to half their strength incapacitated by the heat. The
defenders had 7 KIA and about 25 wounded.

“C’mon you SOB…” Jones muttered softly to
himself. …show me some skin, baby.” Jones had immense patience, but
he knew he was running out of time. The Erastus forces would start
pulling back once the attack began, and that meant he’d have to
retreat too. If he didn’t take his target down by then, he’d lose
the chance.

He was listening intermittently to the
chatter on the unitwide com. The enemy had already advanced on the
far flank, and there was a sharp firefight developing. The Erastus
forces were dug into strong positions. They’d probably repel the
first assault, but then they’d pull back while the enemy
regrouped.

Jones was thinking, analyzing, trying to
figure how long he could stay where we was…how far he could stretch
his orders without actually breaking them. Then he saw it. It was
almost pure instinct. The target was moving, raising his head to
peer over the trench. Jones flashed a thought to the NIS, making a
last second adjustment. His cybernetic eyes focused intently,
peering through the targeting scope. There it was…the top of his
target’s head…moving slowly up. Forehead, eyes…up over the edge of
the trench.

Snap. Jones depressed the trigger, loosing a
single hyper-velocity round. The target’s head exploded as the
projectile slammed into it at 3,000 mps, sending the lifeless body
careening up and back before falling to the ground inside the
trench.

“Gotcha.” Jones had the same feral bloodlust
as any great sniper. He believed in the cause…and even more, he had
unshakeable faith in Jake Taylor. But once he was in the field it
was all about the kill. Politics didn’t matter, nor grievances. He
would track his prey with unrelenting determination.

He scooped up the sniper’s rifle and rolled
to the side, out from under the pile of debris and behind a heavy
chunk of broken masonry. He pulled himself up prone and slung the
rifle over his back. Time to find another target.

“He’s dead, sir.” Lieutenant Smythe was
beyond edgy…he was nearly in a panic. “One second he was giving me
orders, preparing for the assault…the next he was dead.” Smythe was
covered with blood and gore…all that remained of Captain Shinto’s
head.

“Control yourself, Smythe!” Graves voice was
tense on the com…he was getting overwhelmed, panicked calls coming
in from units all over the field. His forces were advancing on all
fronts, breaking through every defensive position. But he was
besieged with frantic communiques from his officers. Casualties
were high, much worse than expected, and the troops were dropping
by the thousands from the heat. Even worse, the enemy snipers were
picking off his officers everywhere. The last thing he needed was
widespread panic among his commanders.

“Take charge immediately, and lead that
assault in.” His voice was harsh, commanding. He didn’t have the
time or patience to wipe every junior officer’s nose. “Lieutenant
Garcia will take command when he gets there.” Garcia was the senior
of the two, plus he had a calmer personality than Smythe. And
Graves was desperate for officers he could trust.

“Yes, sir.” Smythe was starting to get a grip
on himself, brushing Shinto’s remains off his shoulder the best he
could. “Launching the attack now.”

Smythe flipped his com unit to his unit
frequency. “Bombardment teams, commence firing.” He was shouting
into the com, using volume to cover up his fear. “All units,
prepare to advance in five minutes.

The whoosh of the light rockets whipping
overhead made Smythe feel better. At least his forces were striking
at the enemy, hopefully softening them up before lunging out of the
relative safety of the trenches and charging.

He trotted over toward the center of the
formation. He found himself flinching self-consciously as he moved
around. The sniper’s shot that killed Shinto had come out of
nowhere, and Smythe felt like he was in the crosshairs every
second.

“Prepare to attack.” Smythe dredged up all
the courage he could muster and spoke clearly and firmly into the
com. He rubbed his hands on his pants, wiping off the dripping
sweat, and he pulled his pistol from its holster. “Charge!”

He climbed up over the trench as he shouted,
running forward as quickly as he could. He glanced behind, seeing
his troops following, yelling as they ran, and firing forward, more
for the morale effect than any real chance of scoring a hit.

Men started dropping, slowly, sporadically.
The fire was light, but it was extremely accurate. Smythe’s troops
could cover most of the ground under cover of a low rise, but there
were a few spots where they came out into the open…and they paid a
price each time.

Running in the heat was almost as much as he
could bear. His chest was heaving as he gasped for air, his uniform
drenched in sweat. The men he still had with him were the ones
who’d withstood the heat best, but now they too started dropping.
Men simply fell to the ground where they were, unwounded, but no
longer able to stand or walk another step.

Still, Smythe pushed himself forward. He
didn’t think he had more than 70 or 80 men still moving, but he
could see on the tactical display that Garcia’s fresh troops were
less than 1000 meters behind. That gave him the morale boost he
needed. He was almost to the objective, and he could see the enemy
forces withdrawing. He’d though he was facing at least a
strikeforce, but there were only a dozen or so enemy troopers
scurrying away as his forces reached the first row of
buildings.

A dozen, he thought…that was only a dozen
troopers we were facing? He watched as they ran, moving at least 3
or 4 times the speed of his troops. He was overwhelmed by the
accuracy and the physical capabilities of these Erastus soldiers.
What the hell are we fighting here? He was focused on that thought
when he felt the projectile slam into his neck. He didn’t feel
pain, just a sort of numbness…then he was floating. It went on,
seconds dragging out, feeling like much longer. Than dimness, cold,
blackness.

Bear crouched down near the mouth of the
cave. The network of tunnels was on every tactical map of Erastus,
but the enemy zipped right by without even scouting them. Just like
Jake had predicted. He moved his hand behind him, giving the
prearranged hand signs. The men lined up down the cavern relayed
the signals back, giving the word that the attack would begin in
one minute. Bear wasn’t going to risk detection, not with a
transmission, not even with a shout. His people were less than a
klick from the Portal, and his operation’s success depended on
speed and surprise.

He counted down in his head, reflexively
checking his rifle as he did. Normally, he’d be on the com right
now, reminding the rookies to check their weapons and ammo. But he
was on radio silence, and there wasn’t a newb to be found in the
force crouched down behind him. Every man was a veteran with
Supersoldier mods. Not one of them had been on Erastus less than
three years, and none of them needed to be reminded to load their
guns.

Bear waved his rifle in the air and lurched
forward, out of the cave. He knew he shouldn’t be the first one
out, but it would have taken a direct order from Taylor to push him
farther back. He ran quickly, his enhanced leg muscles powering his
massive body over the scrubby grasslands at 30 kilometers per hour.
He didn’t have to worry about leaving anyone behind since all his
men had the same mods.

He ran toward a small rock outcropping. That
was the signal point. When Bear passed the rock, the unit would
lift radio silence, and the section and team leaders would organize
their attacks. It was halfway to the objective, which would give
them about 90 seconds before they hit the outer perimeter of the
Portal complex.

The enemy still hadn’t started firing, though
Bear figured they would any time now. There was no way they hadn’t
spotted his people yet. Still, every second got them closer, and
cut down on the losses his guys would take going in.

Bear zipped past the 2 meter high sliver of
rock, blasting a thought to activate his com as he did. “Alright,
boys, let’s go. Form up your attacks.”

Then the enemy started firing.

Taylor stood in his command post, listening
to all the reports coming in. He was mostly concentrating on the
chatter among Bear’s people. They had the toughest job. Taylor
could only hide two strike forces in the caves, so Samuels had to
take the Portal with fewer than 300 men. The UN forces had been
careless about their defenses, but they still had at least 1,500
troops deployed in the immediate area. Bear had a hand-picked crew,
Supersoldiers and veterans all. But it was still a tough fight.

“Let’s go, 1
^st
Section.” It was
Samuels’ voice on the com. His people had just made it to the
Portal itself, the UN units in full flight, leaving at least 200
dead behind them. “I want that defensive perimeter up NOW.” There
was a short pause, then: “HHVs there, there…and there.”

Taylor had total faith in his closest
friends, but it still surprised him sometimes listening to their
cool competence. His people had spent their time on Erastus
battling the Machines. This was the first time they were fighting
against other humans…and it struck Taylor just how good his
veterans were. These UN troops were well trained and equipped, but
they were glorified bullies and secret police, not soldiers. The
Erastus forces were tearing them apart everywhere they fought.

Bear’s people had drawn the hardest duty, and
they’d taken the heaviest losses. One in five of Samuels’ men were
down, but that was far less than Taylor had feared. They’d taken
the Portal. Now, they’d have to hold it against the inevitable
counterattacks. The UN command would freak out when they realized
they’d been cut off from the Portal. But that was about to become
only one of their problems.

Taylor moved toward the command console and
activated the main com unit. “Attention, Army of Erastus…” That was
the first time he’d called his forces that. He’d never considered a
designation, but he sure as hell wasn’t going to call them UNFE,
with or without UN Central’s blasted colon. He didn’t know it then,
but the name he gave them would stick. “…Objective Z is secured.”
He paused and took a deep breath. It was time. “Execute Plan
Alpha-Omega.”