Portal Wars 1: Gehenna Dawn (7 page)

“Yeah, Bear, half of 2nd Section’s fine.”
Black answered before Taylor. “Even 3rd and 4th teams are in decent
shape. I wouldn’t call them veteran formations by a long shot, but
the guys are coming along OK.” Black’s eyes shifted to Taylor,
catching the slight nod of agreement. “But your section’s gonna be
a handful. They got ripped to shreds at Blackrock.” The 3rd Section
had been on the forward line when the enemy ambush hit. They’d
already had a high proportion of inexperienced troops, and they
lost over 60% casualties in the fight. There weren’t more than 3 or
4 real vets in the whole section.

“Look, there’s no point bitching about
things.” Taylor made sure to beat Bear to a response. He’d seen
Black and Samuels spar like this for hours. They didn’t have time
for that now, and Taylor didn’t have the patience. “Blackie’s
right, Bear. I need you to do anything you can to whip your team
into shape….starting tomorrow with maneuvers. You need to get them
used to the heat, at the very least. We don’t have much time.”

“Can I get supplies for an exercise, or do
you just want me to do some ferocious PT?” Samuels had a jovial
personality, but he was dead serious now. Pleasant demeanor
notwithstanding, everyone in the room knew Bear would mercilessly
drive his troops in the field.

“Plan an exercise. I’ll get you whatever you
need.”

“Seriously, Jake?” Blackie sounded surprised.
“After all the ammo we blew through last week?”

“Not a problem.” Taylor glanced down at the
pad’s screen. “I’m authorized to draw whatever I feel is necessary
to have the strike force ready for action in one week.” Jake
glanced around the room at the surprised and concerned faces. None
of them had ever seen such generous logistical support. “I told you
guys this thing was trouble, didn’t I.” Limitless supplies from HQ
could only mean one thing. They were about to march into hell
itself. “But there’s nothing we can do but make sure we’re as ready
as we can be.”

He turned his head, looking toward a tall,
skinny man leaning against the wall. “How about your people,
Hank?”

“They’re OK.” Hank Daniels commanded 1st
Section. He didn’t sound too convinced, but he wasn’t despondent
either. “With your permission, I’d like to get them out for some
maneuvers as well. I don’t have as many newbs as Sergeant Samuels,
but I have enough.”

Taylor nodded. “I think that’s a good idea.”
He looked over at Bear then back to Daniels. “You two plan a joint
wargame, one section against the other.” He let a small smile creep
onto his lips. “Make it a two-day exercise. I’ll see how far I can
push this unlimited supplies thing.”

Taylor had known Daniels for almost a year,
but he was just beginning to work closely with him and form a real
opinion. So far he liked the guy immensely. Daniels seemed like a
conscientious team leader, and he had a good personality too.

Jake was a little worried about his overall
force makeup, but he was very comfortable with his non-coms. They
were crack veterans, and he trusted them to a man. He was still
nervous about the upcoming mission, though, especially since he’d
gotten almost no details. His orders were simple…be ready for a
major operation by the entire battalion, commencing in
approximately one week. That was pretty damned vague. And that
could only mean trouble.

From the Journal of Jake Taylor:

We try to fight when one of the suns
has set, when the temperature is closer to bearable. We call this
time twilight, though it is hotter than noon in any Earthly
jungle.

Sometimes the machines attack us,
sometimes we attack them. Erastus was still a fairly new Portal
world when I transited. I wasn’t part of the original forlorn hope
sent in to carve out a beachhead, but we were definitely still on
the defensive when I got here. Back then the Machines attacked
every day. I didn’t think we could hold out for those first two
years, but the reinforcements kept coming…new recruits, cherries
like I was…feeding the slaughter.

When they discover a new Portal
world, UN Central starts sending troops through. The first few
times, before the Consolidation, the nation-states sent colonists
and researchers…and the Machines slaughtered them all. The Machines
protect the Portal worlds; they protect them by killing anything
that sets foot on them.

We’re not part of the official UN
security forces. The offworld command is organized differently,
each planet having its own dedicated military. UNFE. United Nations
Force: Erastus. That’s what we’re called. They’ve changed the
nomenclature at least half a dozen times since I got here, mostly
dropping the colon then adding it back again. I imagine there were
some savage bureaucratic battles in New York and Geneva over that,
but then no one ever accused UN Executive Branch of an inability to
waste time and resources on useless red tape.

The wars against the Machines are
relentless battles of attrition, so the first soldiers through just
try to hang on, outnumbered and under constant attack. These
vanguard units don’t last long, maybe a few weeks. But UN Central
keeps sending troops through; a steady flow of manpower until there
is enough strength to hold a series of defensive bases. Then the
stalemate begins; months, years…sometimes decades…before the
deployed strength is enough to go on the offensive and take out the
Machine bases. They’d found the first portal world before I was
born; they’d secured five since that time, wiping out the Machines
entirely. There were troops fighting on 27 more when I transited to
Erastus. I used to wonder about those other worlds, what it was
like on them, how their wars compared to ours. But the longer I was
on Erastus the less it seemed to matter what went on anywhere else.
This was my home now, and I knew I’d never leave it.

“Alright, mount up everybody.” Blackie stood
on the ledge of the antigrav, shouting so the troops could hear him
over the sound of the engines. There were four of the big
transports lined up next to each other, and the 2nd Section of the
213th Strike Force was lined up outside the rightmost one, waiting
to board.

It was almost high noon, and both suns were
baking the flat, sand-covered rocks of the landing area. Black’s
light, moisture-wicking fatigues were already soaking wet and stuck
to his skin. He was wearing his body armor, like everyone else in
the strike force. The long-chain polymers of the armor were
self-healing, providing the ultimate personal protection in battle.
The downside was weight and, on Erastus, heat. The breastplate and
limb coverings tended to trap the heat inside, making it even more
difficult to withstand the brutal temperatures.

“Begin boarding.” Black’s order was
straightforward, and he spoke softly. The antigravs ran quietly,
and his troops heard the command on their implanted com units, so
there was no need to shout.

The troops of the section marched quickly to
the waiting transport, climbing onboard and strapping in on the two
long benches along the inside of the hull. The Mustang-class troop
transports had been one of the first weapons systems to incorporate
the anti-grav technology found on New-Earth. The first Portal world
discovered had been given a painfully unoriginal name, but it had
also provided humanity with a 100-year leap in technology. Powered
by an onboard nuclear reactor, each of the big vessels carried 40
men, plus weapons and supplies.

The rest of the strike force was boarding the
other transports, one section per, plus one ship for the support
forces. The gunships that would escort them to the insertion point
were deployed 500 meters to the north, just outside the strike
force assembly area. The Dragonfires were awesome vessels, 60
meters long and bristling with weapons.

Black watched the last of his troops climb
through the Mustang’s hatch and, with a final look around the
staging area, he pulled himself through and sat in the command
seat. He quickly scanned the interior of the ship, checking, making
sure all his troops had strapped themselves in.

The men were mostly quiet. Some of the
veterans were talking, quietly laughing every now and then. A few
of the other guys were speaking softly to themselves. Blackie knew
they were praying. Religion was tightly controlled on Earth, but
when you dumped a bunch of guys in a place like Erastus, a lot of
them found God. Fast. Black himself had never drawn comfort from
his beliefs, mostly because he didn’t believe in anything. At least
nothing besides his brothers in arms. But he was glad when he saw
his rookies praying. Anything that distracted them, helped them
manage the fear…that was good.

“Last call to get strapped in boys.” The
pilot’s voice was loud on the speaker. “We’re lifting in 30
seconds.”

Black instinctively checked his harness,
though he knew it was good. He’d strapped in a hundred times. He
sucked in a deep breath, taking a few seconds to get ahold of his
own fear. The rookies seemed to think the seasoned troops weren’t
afraid in battle. The ones who survived long enough to become
veterans themselves would look back and realize what idiots they
were. Everyone was scared…everyone. The experienced troops just
knew how to control it…they realized that their chances of survival
were far better if they could manage the fear. For all the mystique
of crack troops, that was the primary difference…the triumph of
logic over terror. The mind over instinct.

The ride would be smooth, at least. Half the
rookies wouldn’t even know they were moving until they looked
outside. One of the techs tried to explain it to Black once. The
antigrav generators radiated a force that altered the graviton
particles beneath the ship, effectively canceling the force of
gravity exerted by the planet. Black had nodded politely, but none
of it meant anything to him. The technician could have been
speaking ancient Greek. The thing flew. That’s all Blackie cared
about.

The four transports lifted in a neat
formation, rising approximately 50 meters before they engaged their
engines and blasted across the desert at 1200 kph. Black knew there
was a similar scene taking place at each of the battalion’s bases.
Four small flotillas, with four transports and two gunships each
would soon be converging on the target.

That objective was still a mystery, but
rumors were rampant it was indeed a Machine production facility. If
that was the case, Black knew they could expect one hell of a
fight. The Tegeri weren’t going to let 2nd Battalion just march in
and take one of their key installations. Things are going to get
bloody, Black thought grimly. Then he put it out of his mind and
watched the featureless desert whip by.

“Let’s go!” Bear Samuels was shouting at his
mortar crews, frustrated with the time it was taking them to set
up. He’d worked them as much as he could, but they were just
inexperienced, and it showed in their performance. “I want fire on
that valley, and I want it now.” Unlike Blackie’s accent, Samuel’s
southern drawl tended to vanish when he was excited and under
stress.

“Almost ready, Sergeant.” Corporal Jarrod had
been onplanet around six months, which made him one of the closest
things 3rd Section had to a veteran. He was a good man, but his two
crewman were cherries who’d been on Erastus less than two
weeks.

“Ready, Sarge.” Isaac Stone was another
corporal, an 18-month veteran from 2nd Section. Taylor had detached
Blackie’s and Hank Daniels’ mortars and sent them to Samuels. Both
of the borrowed crews were outperforming his own less seasoned
team.

His section was advancing through a narrow,
rocky valley. It was a rough position, with the flanks on both
sides exposed to enemy positions on the heights. The overall
mission objective was on the left, built into a jagged peak rising
500 meters above the desert floor. The valley itself was narrow,
with a rugged series of small hills rising to the right. Although
it still hadn’t been confirmed officially, by now the entire
battalion knew they were assaulting one of the enemy’s Machine
production sites.

It was the right flank that was worrying
Samuels. There were enemy defensive positions up there, dug into
those hills covering the approach to the base. His people had to
take those out before the objective itself could be attacked. The
rest of the strikeforce was stacked up behind his people, along
with a section of the 1st and about half the battalion support
elements. They were going to hit the base itself, but only after
Samuels’ people cleared the hills to the right.

Taylor had taken a gamble, sending his least
experienced section in first, but he knew he needed his veterans
for the main attack. He’d have never gone with 3rd Section if he
didn’t have Samuels to lead it. Bear was one of the best small-unit
commanders Taylor had ever seen. The big man was new to handling a
whole section, but Jake had complete confidence in his friend. They
both knew what had to be done and, if anyone could do the job with
a bunch of rookies, it was Bear Samuels.

“Ready, Sergeant.” Jarrod’s voice was a
little wobbly, but it was loud and clear.

“Attention 3rd Section, prepare to advance
behind mortar barrage. Team leaders sound off.”

“Acknowledged.” Corporal Clark Hemmerich was
the first to respond, but the other three teams sounded off a few
seconds later. The leaders had all been onplanet at least 9 months,
though some of them commanded teams consisting entirely of new
recruits.

“Mortars…” Bear was standing right behind the
three deployed tubes. “…commence firing.”

It couldn’t have been more than a second
before Samuels heard the first distinctive whoosh, followed closely
by the other two. He pulled down his visor, flipping the switch to
kick in the magnification. He could see the explosions in a small
line along the rocky slope.