Battle Earth: 12 (3 page)

"It'll do!" Taylor said.

He held his shield before him as if expecting to be shot at any second, but as he continued to advance, there was nothing. He stood next to the two Guardians who were too large to fit through the breach. He looked at his watch again, noting just how short on time they were.

"Bring up the nuke!" he barked.

He pointed for Sergeant Lang to go through with him, and a second later he darted forward and went through the breach. To their surprise, they found no sign of the enemy at all. All that was there was a large elevator like you'd find on an aircraft carrier.

"We don't have time to go down there," said Silva.

"We don't need to. Bring up that nuke!"

One of the marines strode in with a large steel box on the back of his Reitech suit.

"Right there," said Taylor, pointing to the centre of the elevator.

Two others came up beside him and unclipped the device from his suit and lowered it carefully to the deck.

"Arm it, five minute timer."

"Five minutes?" asked Silva. He sounded shocked, "Cutting it a little fine, don't you think?"

"Do it," he said and opened a comms channel.

"Rains, get your ass down here. I want pickup at our primary extractions in two minutes!"

"You got it, Colonel," Rains answered calmly.

They set up the timer on the nuke and waited for Taylor to activate it. He stepped up and quickly punched in the eight-digit code onto the keypad without any hesitation at all. He looked over to Jafar and nodded for him to activate the huge elevator as they all stepped off. It jolted into action at a slow pace but began to accelerate quickly. Taylor leaned out of the exposed edge to see it drop about thirty metres below the surface and finally come to a halt. He took a step back, targeted a control box and cabling on the far side, and opened fire.

"Rip it apart!" he yelled.

A dozen of the marines around him fired, and Jafar blew out the control module he had used to lower the elevator down.

"Right, let's get the hell out of here!"

He rushed to the smashed doorway and waited for the last of them to go before stepping back out into the light himself.

"It’s done?" King asked.

Taylor didn't break stride as he rushed past the Captain.

"Yeah, we've got four minutes till she blows.

"Four minutes? Are you fucking kidding me?"

"You better believe it," added Silva as he ran past him.

"Let's go, go, go!" yelled King to his Company.

The two Companies rushed back over the ground they had fought hard to secure and could see the copters coming in to land nearby.

"Could have given us a little more leeway, Colonel!" Silva shouted breathlessly.

"Just keep moving!"

They jumped aboard the copters and were in the air with just two minutes to spare.

"We've got incoming!" Rains shouted.

Taylor rushed to the cockpit and could see enemy craft approaching on the scanners.

"Can you make it to the Diderot?"

"Probably, but it's gonna be awfully tight."

"The craft soared towards the French Heavy Cruiser that was engaging several of the enemy ships a few kilometres out and couldn't have been more than a couple of thousand feet above the surface.

Then the docking bays were in sight, and Rains barely seemed to slow down as they came crashing into land. The undercarriage hit hard, and they felt part of it buckle as they listed over and ground to a halt. Sparks flew up around them and caused the copter to make a one hundred and eighty degree turn. Its tail struck one of the other copters that had landed moments before. As the loading bay ramps began to close, they could see enemy craft on the horizon.

Taylor looked down to his watch and could see the countdown was on just five seconds. He hit the comms channel and yelled, "All aboard, go!"

The engines were already spooled up and ready to go. They caught a glimpse of light as the nuke went off, and they vanished into the self-generated space gateway a split second later. Nobody said a word for a moment until Rains started to laugh. It was incongruous, but so many of the others couldn't help but join in.

Only a few hours had passed since their assault on a military installation on Earth, and Taylor was once again descending to the surface of Onekaka, or as it was now affectionately known as 'Ony'.

"Bet Rains will be coddling that copter for hours, trying to iron out all the damage," said Silva humorously, but that was lost on Taylor who simply replied, "Good, we need it operational again ASAP."

The shuttle carrying them was one that used to do runs between the Lunar colony and Earth and had a capacity of one hundred. Windows allowed everyone aboard to see out, and it had no weapons or armour to speak of at all.

"You must have travelled in this girl more than a few times?" Silva asked Morris.

He shook his head.

"I rarely ever had a reason to go to Earth before the wars."

Silva shook his head.

"What is it?" Morris asked.

"Well, I am with the Colonel on this. I can't see why any human would want to spend their lives entirely in environmentally controlled confines with such a harsh environment outside. Wouldn't you be climbing the walls to get to some real air? Didn't you ever want to just walk on grass and rocks and enjoy all that nature has to offer?"

Morris smiled.

"You were born on Earth, so I guess it's natural you like it. To me it's just an area with too many uncertainties and variables, the weather and temperatures and constantly changing. It's hard work getting anything done when you’re contending with all that."

"So you'd go right back to the Moon if you could?"

Morris nodded slowly and let his mind slip back into a time when he still lived there. They were entering the atmosphere of Ony now with several other transports and two of the Aranui vessels who had gone in support of them. The second they had put down on the surface, Taylor was already at the door and storming out as quickly as he could, but he was soon stopped in his tracks by Major Moye.

"Glad to see you made it, Colonel. Got an official casualty list yet?"

Taylor shook his head. It was clear to them all he hadn't given their losses a second thought, and yet he didn’t regret it.

“You must have done okay,” he replied, “We didn’t see any ground reinforcements beyond the shit King landed in the middle of.”

“We paid a heavy price protecting your asses,” Moye replied sternly.

“Yeah, price ain’t all paid yet,” said Taylor, seemingly without any sympathy at all as he carried on walking past the Major. Moye turned and walked with him.

"I hate to bring this up, Colonel, but we need more recruits. We're not getting volunteers in numbers fast enough right now."

"What do you want me to do about it?"

"Admiral Lasure is in charge of the fleet now, but you put him there. You have a lot of say in how things go on around here."

"Talk bluntly, Major, what do you want me to do?"

"Get the Admiral to begin conscription."

Taylor stopped dead in his tracks.

"You know how long it's been since any civilised country on Earth has done that?"

"But we aren't on Earth, and neither are we a country. We're an army and a navy with a lot of civilians hanging on."

Taylor sighed and thought about it for a moment.

"You know the dangers of lowering the quality of the average fighting man when you bring that to the table?"

"I didn't say I wanted to do it, Colonel. I say we have to do it. If we don't win this, then they're dead anyway."

Taylor slowly nodded his head and looked back to Silva.

"Have them ready for 0600 tomorrow, same as before."

"Getting into a bit of a pattern, aren't we?”

"Yes, Major, a pattern of taking Erdogan's forces down piece-by-piece, and he must be feeling it by now," added Taylor.

Silva began barking his orders at the troops still disembarking from the transport. Taylor finally looked back to Moye and could see he wasn't going to take no for an answer.

"I'll see what I can do. Walk with me."

Taylor carried onwards, but his first stop was to an ammo dump en route to HQ. He walked in to find a quartermaster arguing with a Lieutenant, but on seeing Taylor, they both fell silent until the quartermaster finally asked.

"What can I get you, Colonel?"

Taylor pulled out six empty magazines from his webbing and threw them down on the counter.

"Six mags and three HE grenades."

"You got it, Colonel."

Everything he had asked for was placed before him in a matter of seconds. Taylor loaded up his webbing and smiled at the frustrated Lieutenant before walking back out.

"You know with the role you have taken around here, you can do more good than just what you do with your own hands. After all, you are only one man, one marine. But as a leader you can do so much more."

"I'm doing what I can, but if you think I'm ever gonna be caught unprepared again, you don't know me at all."

Taylor stopped and put a hand in the way of Moye and looked down at his lack of armour. All he carried was a sidearm.

"Mechs attack, right now? Clones reveal themselves? One of the Aranui decides they got a beef with you? What are you gonna do about it? Expect everyone else to do the fighting for you?"

"Sometimes a leader must take a backseat and command."

"Yeah, and that's no excuse for complacency."

"Colonel, I am not some paper pusher who has never had to get his hands dirty. You of all people know that."

"Yes, you're a good fighter, Major, but you're a fighter first and a leader second. And until such time that someone pins stars on your uniform, you'd do well to remember that."

Moye thought on his words for a moment, and Taylor turned and carried onwards as Captain Morris joined them.

"Captain, I have the Sergeant Major preparing the Regiment for our next operation. You'd do well to be sure you're ready also."

"I'm good to go," he replied confidently.

Taylor looked over to see he was clutching a pile of fresh magazines and grenades that he was stuffing into his webbing. It brought a small smile to Taylor's face that the Captain was following his lead.

"You see, Major, a man who is always ready."

They carried on to the HQ building that had been established and directly into the operations room, where they found twenty officers and other staff busy at work. In the middle of the room sat General White. He was perched in a wheelchair and looked both exhausted and unwell.

"Well done," he said on seeing the two of them, "That was a vital military installation destroyed and with acceptable losses."

Taylor grimaced at the term 'acceptable'. It never sat well with him.

"We got the job done, Sir."

White beckoned for them to come closer, so he could talk with a little more privacy. He took in a deep breath, and it was clear he needed to get something heavy off his chest.

"Taylor, you know I am in a bad way. My wounds are recovering slowly, some of them maybe not at all. I'm old."

"You've got some fight left in you yet, Sir."

White nodded in appreciation as he went on.

"You've taken on a much bigger role around here than your rank would suggest, Colonel..."

Taylor thought he could see where this was going and quickly interrupted.

"I'm not looking for promotion, General, and I don't want it either."

White shook his head. "No, I didn't imagine that you did. You're already spending most of your time doing the duties of a Captain or Major at most. Hell, the only reason you have the rank of Colonel is so that you can lead your own unit, and yet you've taken it upon yourself to make some big decisions. You somehow promoted a Captain to the Admiral of the fleet, making him superior to all of us. And the craziest thing of all is that everyone has accepted it."

"It was necessary, Sir," Taylor spat back.

White seemed shocked by his response.

"It was not a criticism, Colonel. For what it's worth, I think Lasure has already shown himself to be well up to the task. My point, Colonel, is that you are making decisions a Colonel should never make."

"Well, you've got me, Sir. I did, and here we are."

White nodded in agreement.

"Let's be clear. My body is a wreck. I may yet one day recover, but at present I am unable to fulfil my duties as a General in the United States Marine Corps. Hell, I'm not sure the Corps even exists anymore. Most of your Regiment are from other services or even other nations."

"It exists if we say it does, and we keep fighting for it," said Taylor confidently.

White seemed impressed with his commitment.

"I'll stay on here, doing what I can, but I cannot be considered much more than an advisor right now. The command structure is in tatters. We've got officers from a few dozen different nations pushing for their bit of power, and then we have you, Colonel, the man that is holding it all together. Lasure has been accepted as Admiral because you put him there, and there is not one among us in this fleet that would dare question that decision."

Taylor was speechless. He'd never given it so much thought.

"That's a lot of responsibility for a Colonel. Hell, that's a lot of responsibility for one man. While you remain alive, and keep doing what you've been doing, you have the undying support of this fleet. Remember that. You are accepted by mob rule, and the voice of the mob can be more powerful than you can imagine. You keep doing right by them and you’re safe. Veer off that path, and you could find a rope around your neck."

"There is only one task I must fulfil, only one thing left in this world I must achieve. Kill that son of a bitch Erdogan. I will find him, and I will kill him. I don't care how long it takes and what price I have to pay. This will end with me tearing his head off and holding up high for all his armies to see."

"And I don't know a single man or woman who wouldn't do all in their power to see you reach that day."

Taylor could see it was his opportunity.

"If the civilians are as committed to this action as we are, then we need them to join this fight, Sir."

"We've been bringing plenty of them into the fold. We've got training camps running night and day to get recruits in the field."

"We need more," stated Taylor.

"We need conscription," Moye said from behind him.

White was shocked by the concept and had to think about it for a few moments.

"I can't ask that of them."

"You don't ask for conscription, General," added Moye, "You order it."

White shook his head. "I have already said I am but an advisor here. The Admiral would have the say on this matter, and even beyond him, he may not have the sway to bring over a few of the nations. You know how many Generals we have in this fleet?"

Taylor shook his head.

"Last count was thirty-four. Half of them were in this room just an hour ago. They will all expect a say on what happens to their own nation’s people."

"I don't believe we have that divide anymore," said Taylor, "We aren't Americans, or French, or British. We're one now."

"Try telling that to them. If you want to call up civilians without their volunteering, the only one that can stand a chance of achieving it is you. Any one of us tries it, and we'll be shot down in flames. We could have another mutiny on our hands. Maybe you'd call it civil war now. You can ask it, Taylor, only you."

Taylor shook his head. The responsibilities were piling up on top of him, and he was feeling swamped and stifled by it all. He turned and looked to Moye, but he only nodded in agreement with what the General had said.

"I think you are starting to understand now, Taylor. You're too important to lose, but neither can we take you out of harm's way, as you are vital to the war effort."

"So don't die," said Moye.