Portal Wars 1: Gehenna Dawn (10 page)

“Yes, sir.” Daniels flipped down his helmet
and checked his tactical display. “I’ll send Gomez’ team.” He
flipped the com circuit. “Gomez, I’m sending you coordinates. Get
your team over there immediately and support Corporal Danton.”

“Yes, Sergeant.” Gomez was one of the most
junior team leaders in the 213th Strikeforce, but he was fast
developing into one of the best. “We’re heading there now.”

“Gomez’ people are on the way, sir.” Daniels
held Taylor’s gaze for a few seconds…a silent acknowledgement.
Neither one said anything, but they both knew what Taylor had
done…and that Daniels understood and appreciated it.

“Lieutenant, we’ll be finished in ten
minutes…twelve tops.” Graves’ voice was loud, and the message
startled Taylor. The engineer sounded distracted. He and his men
were working as quickly as possible to set the nuclear mine so they
could all get the hell out. Graves – and Taylor too – would have
much preferred to nuke the factory with a missile, eliminating the
need for the bloody ground attack or for any of them to be deep
within the facility standing around a 3 megaton warhead. But the
base was dug into a mountain, and it was far from certain any nuke
in UNFE’s arsenal would penetrate sufficiently to destroy it. And
if they had tried and failed, the surprise so essential to the
operation would have been lost. By the time they came in on the
ground, the enemy would have massively reinforced. The assault
would have quickly turned into a bloody disaster.

“Acknowledged, sir.” Taylor signaled Daniels
while he spoke to Graves, holding up both hands, all his fingers
upright, indicating 10 minutes. “Be advised that we are engaging
substantial enemy forces, Captain.” A brief pause. “Any minutes you
can shave off will make our withdrawal less problematic.”

“We’ll do what we can, Lieutenant. You don’t
want us rushing too much with this thing.” Graves cut the line.

Taylor nodded. He wasn’t going to waste his
time thinking about what could go wrong with the mine. The nuke was
Graves’ problem. The Machines were his.

“Let’s go, Gomez. Your people are moving like
a bunch of old ladies.” Taylor knew he wasn’t being fair – the
corporal’s team was shot to pieces. Danton was dead, and Gomez was
leading the survivors of both crews. They had more wounded than
able-bodied personnel, and it was hard to withdraw under fire while
carrying your comrades. But fair was bullshit, and Jake knew it.
There was getting out of here and not getting out. Those were the
two options. Fair had nothing to do with any of it.

“We’re on the way, sir.” Taylor could hear
the pain in Gomez’ voice. The corporal had reported he’d taken a
minor wound in the leg, but Jake had a feeling it was a lot worse
than that.

They’d killed a lot of Machines, but there
were more coming. They were far less effective than typical
Machines. Taylor figured they were fresh off the manufacturing
line, and they had enough more than enough numbers to make up for
reduced efficiency. There was no way to win a protracted fight and,
besides, the nuclear warhead was going to blow in less than 15
minutes. The thing was booby-trapped to prevent the enemy from
disarming it, but UN Command had ordered a short detonation
countdown anyway. They didn’t want to take any chances on the
Machines deactivating the mine in spite of the defenses. If that
put a lot of pressure on Taylor and Graves and their people to get
the hell out, so be it. Destroying the facility was vastly more
important to the high command than a section of infantry and an
engineer crew.

Taylor and the main force were almost to the
entrance. He didn’t want to send anyone back, and risk more of his
men not getting out. But he couldn’t leave Gomez and his people
behind. There was only one thing to do. “Hank, get everybody out
and onto that transport.”

“You’re not thinking about…”

“Just do it.” Taylor had already turned
around. “And you lift off and get everybody out of here five
minutes before detonation.” He stared right at Daniels. “Not one
second later. Do you understand me?”

Daniels stood silently, shifting his weight
nervously back and forth. “Do you understand me, Sergeant Daniels?”
Taylor’s tone was imperious, almost angry. He didn’t have time to
argue.

“Yes, sir.” Daniels answered grudgingly, his
voice sullen.

Taylor spun around and jogged down the
corridor. He unslung his assault rifle, holding it at the ready in
front of him. The tactical display showed Gomez’ group about 200
meters back. He also had blips showing enemy forces another 300
meters behind them. The data points on the Machines were courtesy
of the nanobot detectors Gomez had dropped behind as his people ran
for it.

He covered about 150 meters and rounded the
corner. There they were, about 30 meters ahead. It was worse than
he thought. There were only six of them, all the survivors from two
8-man teams. It looked like 2 were unhurt, and each of them was
carrying a badly wounded comrade. Corporal Gomez was in the back,
struggling forward slowly, his fatigues soaked in blood. He was
waving ahead, yelling for the rest of the men to move faster and
leave him behind.

“Let’s go, you guys.” Jake shouted down the
corridor, gesturing wildly for the men to run toward him. He kept
moving, passing them by, stopping next to Gomez.

“Lieutenant, you shouldn’t be back here, sir.
We might not make…”

“We’re all going to make it, Corporal.” Jake
sounded sincere, but he was far from sure. He gave them about a
50/50 shot of getting to the transport before it lifted. Getting
out too late was the same as not getting out at all…a front row
seat to a 3 megaton blast.

Taylor grabbed Gomez and threw the wounded
corporal over his shoulder. At least he’s small, Taylor thought to
himself. Jake was 2 meters tall, and he had at least 9 or 10
centimeters on the stricken non-com. He ignored Gomez’ howls of
pain and ran forward on the heels of the other troopers.

They rounded the corner just as the pursuing
Machines began firing down the hall. “Turn left up ahead,” Taylor
shouted. They were almost there, but they were running out of time.
They weren’t going to make it.

He turned the corner and felt the pain in his
back, the sudden weakness in his legs. He’d been hit. Ignore it, he
thought…nothing you can do about it now. He gritted his teeth,
trying to run harder, to disregard the pain.

He could see the light up ahead. It was late
in the day, well into twilight, but even with only one sun in the
sky, it was always bright on Erastus. “Move!” He screamed at the
men in front. He knew they were tired and hurting, but they only
had 30 seconds left. They ran down the last hallway and out into
the bright sun of the valley. Taylor glanced at his chronometer and
groaned. They were too late.

But he could hear the engines of the
transport, and he looked up, seeing its hulking form just ahead.
“Run!” His legs were on fire, and back was sheer agony. He could
feel the slickness, his blood flowing down his back, his legs.
Every step was torture, but he kept moving, running hard. Gomez had
lost consciousness, and Jake was having a hard time keeping a grip
on him.

He couldn’t understand why the transport was
still there. The countdown clock was at 4:15 to detonation…they
should have taken off 45 seconds before. He could see the shape of
the Mustang getting larger as he approached. Gomez’ troops were
reaching the open hatch of the hold, grabbing onto the outstretched
hands of the men onboard.

Taylor still couldn’t understand. He wasn’t
surprised that Daniels was ignoring his order to leave them behind,
but the transport crew would have taken off on the dot, and no
arguments would have stopped them.

Jake handed Gomez to the troops inside the
hold and grabbed onto the handrails, pulling himself up. The
strength wasn’t there, and he started to slide. Then he felt the
hands grabbing him, hauling him up and in. As they pulled him up,
he got a view through the open door into the cockpit. He saw the
two man crew…and Hank Daniels holding his gun on them both.

“OK…” Taylor shouted so loudly it wracked his
stricken body with pain. “Let’s get the hell out of here!”

From the Journal of Jake Taylor:

Have you ever watched anyone die? I
don’t mean a grandparent, old at the end of a long and happy life,
lying in bed, surrounded by family. Have you ever seen a young
person die violently, decades before nature intended?

Have you looked into the eyes of a
boy, barely a man, and witnessed the terror, the pain, the
confusion? Seen the look in his eyes as he begs you to help, to
save him? Listened to him cry for life, even as death was taking
him? Stared down at your clothes, now stained with the life blood
of a dead friend?

I expected to die when I got to
Erastus. My life wasn’t mine anymore anyway…I’d signed it away to
save my family. UN Central owned it. If they wanted to throw me
into the burning sands of Gehenna to die, that was their
decision.

But I didn’t die. Battle after
battle, I survived. I was wounded a few times, and thought I was
done for more than once, but I’m still here. When I got to Erastus,
the guys who’d been onplanet awhile took me under their wing. They
taught me how to survive. They became good friends, all those guys.
We fought together, lived together, watched each other’s
backs.

They’re dead now. All of them.
Burying your friends is one of the rewards of surviving on Erastus.
There’s a pain I can’t describe in watching a friend die…19 years
old, 20, his body mutilated beyond recognition. The bond between
men who fight alongside each other, who bleed together and man
trenches and share the same slop to eat…it can’t be understood by
someone who hasn’t experienced it. Those men were more than
friends, more than brothers. And I watched every one of them
die.

But there’s a different pain too,
the agony of watching these stupid, unprepared kids stumble out of
the Portal, knowing almost 2/3 of them will be killed or wounded in
their first battle. UNFE training is fairly comprehensive, but it
is woefully inadequate to prepare young men for the reality of this
hell world.

The anguish is worse because I have
lived so long. The good men who took me in didn’t fail me. They
taught me what I needed to know. They kept me alive until I could
survive on my own. When I watch a cherry die, I know I have failed
him, as I myself was not failed. I have failed a bewildered,
terrified kid who needed me. And I have failed the dead men who
saved me and asked nothing more than that I pay forward for what
they did.

Why should I have survived so long
when there are so many I cannot save? I thought fighting in hell
was a terrible fate, but commanding there is worse. Watching men
die, seeing the terrified looks in their cold, dead faces…it’s more
horrible than anything the Machines can do to me. If they kill me,
I’ll consider it a mercy. But if I have to look at one more dead
kid, face transfixed in fear, in agony, I think I will lose my
mind.

Taylor sat quietly, watching the desert whip
by as the Mustang raced along at 1,200 kph. He was strapped in,
sitting alone in the cavernous hold of the otherwise empty
transport. His back hurt like crazy, but Doc had cleared him for
the flight. The round that struck him went right through his back
and out the front without so much as nicking a vital organ. It took
Doc about 30 minutes to patch everything up and fuse the wound
closed. Jake would be sore for a couple weeks, and off combat duty,
but he was more or less fine for normal activities.

UNFE HQ was 3,500 klicks from Firebase Delta.
Taylor knew the destruction of the enemy base was a major victory,
but he’d never seen a transport dispatched such a distance to pick
up one lieutenant…especially not one escorted by a Dragonfire
gunship, like this one was.

It had occurred to Jake they might give him a
medal or some type of award. They loved giving out
decorations…something for the cherries to look up to, another
reason for them to throw their lives away heroically.

Taking out the first Machine production
facility on the planet was certainly a major win, and a crucial
turning point in the war on Erastus. The first phase was over…from
now on, it would no longer be a continuing fight just to hang on.
The war had morphed into an ongoing effort to chip away at enemy
strength until their defenses collapsed. It was too early to say
the momentum had shifted entirely, but it was definitely a move in
that direction.

Taylor understood the implications, and he
appreciated the tactical significance. But all he could think about
was how many of his boys didn’t come back from the glorious
victory. The thought of smiling while some asshole from UN Central
did a drive by on Erastus to pin a piece of silver on his chest was
more than he could stomach.

The Jake Taylor who had just arrived through
the Portal might have valued a shiny new medal. But the war weary
lieutenant was repulsed by the idea of accepting a reward that was
bought with the blood of his men. He had no choice, but there was
no part of him left that wanted any of it. He wished he could go
back to base to be with his shattered unit as the men mourned their
dead. That was where he belonged.

“We should be on the ground at HQ in about 20
minutes, Lieutenant Taylor.” The pilot’s tone was
half-disinterested, half respectful. Antigrav jocks didn’t usually
pay much attention to ground pounders. But Taylor was one of the
heroes of the Battle of Shadow Valley, as they were calling it, and
he rated a transport all to himself. That was worth a little
respect. And the story of him running back into the facility to
rescue his men – then getting wounded himself - was taking on the
status of a legend. It irked the hell out of him, but there was
nothing he could do to stop it.