Battle Earth X (5 page)

Taylor shook his head. “You’re a big fucking help.”

Jafar seemed to right his back and take offence at the comment before settling down.

“Still not got a full grasp on sarcasm, hey?” Taylor asked.

He looked back to Rains, noting as they approached the structure just how vast and imposing it really was.

“The Warrior, she still with us?”

“Yes, Siree.”

“Good, any signs of life?”

“Negative. It looks…well, abandoned.”

“What do you mean? Surely the Krys wouldn’t leave a gateway like this to rust out and fade away?”

He turned and looked at Jafar to answer him, but the alien only shrugged.

“What do you want me to do?”

“Take us in for a closer look. I want to know for certain what the status of this thing is before we put boots on the ground.”

As the words came off his tongue, he realised what a bitter thought that was. Stepping foot on real solid ground seemed like a pipe dream now. It had been less than a day since he had left Earth, but it felt like it could be years before he ever did again.

If ever,
he thought.

“Right then, here we go,” Rains finally added.

He put power to the reverse thrusters and brought them in quickly but calmly until they were less than fifty metres from the structure.

“What the hell is that?” Rains asked.

On the screens beside him he could see what looked like some kind of lettering across the surface of the ring of the structure.

“That mean anything to you, Jafar?”

Taylor could see the confusion in Jafar’s face, and that worried him. It was clear he had never seen them before.

“Those are not Krys symbols. Nor anything I have seen before.”

Taylor wasn't sure whether to feel grateful it wasn't Krys, or fearful that another unknown threat now existed.

"Look at this thing," said Rains.

He pointed to damage over multiple parts of the structure.

"Has that been hit deliberately?"

"I'd say more likely it's been hit by space debris, and a lot over a long time period. I think we're looking at some kind of ancient artefact, Mitch."

"What is keeping it where it is?" Morris asked.

The thought hadn't even occurred to Taylor.

"I couldn't say, but it's definitely anchored to this point somehow. What do you want to do?"

"Take us in, Eddie. More than anything right now we need information."

"Well, okay."

He brought them in cautiously towards what looked like some kind of opening ten times the size of their gunship.

"Looks about the best place to put down."

They began their approach, but Taylor was feeling uneasy.

"I don't like this. Old tech of an unknown race, it looks dead, but it’s somehow holding its position in space. I don't like it at all."

As he said it, there was a glimmer of movement ahead of them.

"Break, break!" Taylor shouted.

Rains put all power down and banked hard as they saw a dazzling flash ahead of them, and a beam weapon almost the width of their craft narrowly missed them.

"Jesus Christ!" Rains swore under his breath.

He banked again, and another beam rushed past them. As they soared back towards the Warrior, a third beam struck their starboard side and tore off one of the engines and wing. They immediately lost most of their power, went into a spin, and continued to barrel towards the frigate.

Taylor knew they were helpless now and could only hope they would not be hit again. Lighting began to fail, and they lowered their visors, expecting to be blasted into space any second, if they survived at all. The seconds went by, and they felt nothing. Finally, Rains broke the silence.

"Well, that went well."

"What can you do?"

"Nothing, Colonel, it's out of my hands now."

They felt an impact on the ship as if they had collided with something, but there was nothing visible out of the pilot's cockpit until he looked up and could see the lower hull of the other Mercury gunship overhead. They began to slow as they approached the Warrior and they were out of their spin.

"They've got us," Rains said in relief.

None of them said a word as they were escorted to the docking bay of the Warrior. The hatch opened, allowing the access to the ship, and they stepped aboard thankful they were still alive.

"Abandoned my ass, Eddie," said Taylor.

"Hey, I said it looked that way. I'm no expert."

Taylor looked to Jafar. He opened his mouth to ask a question, but he could already see the alien was as surprised by it all as they were.

"Let me guess, you have no more clue than us, right?"

Jafar nodded.

"Where the hell have you brought us?" Morris demanded.

Jafar did not respond, but they all thought it, too. It was hard to think of what else they could have done, but that did not stop them from thinking on it over and over again.

"Wherever the hell we are, it ain't home," said Taylor, "It truly is alien, and we need to start treating it with a little respect and a little caution. That was too close a call."

Taylor stepped aboard the Washington to find Huber waiting to greet him. As he did so, he could see the badly damaged Gerty being manoeuvred into a repair bay a little further long the landing bay. The Admiral opened his mouth to welcome Taylor aboard, but stopped and stared at the wreck.

"What the hell happened out there?"

"We got our asses kicked is what happened. Whatever that thing is, and whoever it was made by, it ain't too friendly."

"Casualties?"

"Thankfully not, but we came too damn close."

"Well is it hostile, can we expect further trouble?"

The Admiral looked to Jafar, then Rains and Morris, but no one had any answers.

"From what I could tell, we just triggered a self defence mechanism. My advice, we keep on eye on it, but stay well wide."

"So just ignore it?"

"It's trouble we don't need, right now. It's out there in the middle of nowhere. Who cares? Leave it be."

Huber nodded in agreement. It was just another uncertainty to add to the list of their new location. He paced over to the wrecked ship and Taylor joined him. Rains was close behind them and could only shake his head in despair.

"Just when I thought I'd found my girl for life," he muttered.

"Don't you worry, we'll get her flying again," replied Huber.

Rains was shocked to hear it. "We can't afford to lose a single bird. She'll be patched up and repaired anyway we can," Huber continued.

It wasn't quite the good news Rains had hoped for, as it was such a short term and desperate measure. Huber stopped before the gunship to take a good look over it, but Rains continued on. The Lieutenant carried on until he reached his ship and ran his hand along the fuselage, as though feeling some deep personal connection to it. He located the damage where the wing and engine had been either ripped off or obliterated.

“Look at her. The metal has been melted away like it was nothing at all. Gerty is one of the toughest little birds I’ve ever flown, and I’ve flown a few. But that thing, that weapon. We might as well have had paper walls. If it had hit us dead on, none of us would be here to discuss it.”

“It was a damn good bit of flying,” Taylor murmured, attempting to reassure him, “damn lucky flying.”

Rains slowly turned and looked back to Taylor. His face was pale, and he quivered a little as he responded.

“Luck! How many times can we expect to survive by luck? It can’t last forever.”

Taylor stepped up and laid his hand on Eddie’s shoulder.

“Tough day, but not nearly as tough as it could have been. We all came back alive. Take a few hours. Get some food and sack time. The Admiral is finding us bunks, use them.”

Eddie nodded in appreciation and staggered off to do as ordered. Taylor looked around to the others who had gone with him.

“That goes for the rest of you. Get your heads down. Rest, and get some chow. We have a long way ahead of us. I want you ready for anything we have to face!”

None of them moved for a moment.

“Fall out, go!”

They scattered before him, and he was left with Huber and his detail.

“Your people have done some fine work throughout all this, Colonel. Do not think it has gone unnoticed.”

“Appreciated, Sir, but we don’t ask for anything. All we want is to win.”

Huber looked surprised.

“Win? The battle or the war?”

“Everything,” Taylor replied dryly.

With that, he turned and left without as much as a salute to the Admiral or request of leave. Huber did not question it. He felt humbled before the Colonel and knew he would have to rely on him for so many things in the times to come.

Taylor carried on in a weary fashion. Only Morris strode beside him. For a moment he imagined it was Jones walking alongside him, and he turned to make a crack at his British comrade, and then realised it could not be.

“You okay, Colonel?”

Taylor stopped. He was exhausted and wanted nothing more than to lie down where he stood and sleep. But he turned to Morris, who he knew needed a lesson in being an officer within his unit.

“Being okay isn’t a luxury we can afford, Captain. Being okay is for the civilians to feel while we protect them. While we fight for the survival of our race so that they can go on living. So that there is still a human race left after all this. So, yes, I am okay. I am okay as any man or woman in the Inter-Allied Regiment is entitled to feel. I am glad to have you with us, Captain, but do not forget your duty.”

Taylor turned and left. Morris could not help but feel abandoned and alone. Taylor knew he would, but he was too exhausted to explain it any further. More than that, he knew Morris had a strong will, but not yet strong enough.

He carried onwards. The Washington was roughly familiar to him. He knew where to find the officers’ quarters and made his way there. Somehow he expected to have someone guiding him to his quarters, but it never happened. Finally a Sergeant of the marines approached him.

“Can I help you, Sir?”

“Looking for…where I can call home, I guess.”

“Sir, your unit are back the way you came and port side. Sector 34F.”

He looked surprised and more than a little puzzled. The Sergeant could see it in his face.

“I’m sorry, Sir, but there isn’t any accommodation available in the officers’ quarters at present. We’re already running pretty tight and cycling beds through duty rosters.”

“I…uh…see, Sergeant, thank you. Thirty what was it?”

“34F, Sir, it’s just…”

“I got it, thanks.”

"You okay, Sir?"

He nodded before turning and wandering on. He finally saw a familiar face. Sergeant Silva giving orders to a squad outside the entrance to 34F. He looked as wide-awake and lively as ever.

A good Sergeant Major,
thought Taylor.

It was an inspiration to him, too. As he reached Silva, the others were sent off about their duties.

"Colonel, you look like shit."

"Always the charmer," he replied sarcastically, "This our lot?"

"Yes, Sir, temporary quarters for additional marine contingents. Haven't been used in a few years. Hardly luxurious, but we've had a lot worse. I'm chasing the crew to get you your own quarters, but for now you'll have to rough it with the rest of us."

Taylor nodded in appreciation. He could see Silva was working hard to maintain order. He stepped through into the bunkroom and found it was more basic than he expected. It reminded him of the boot camp when he had first joined the Corps. Beds were built into the walls and three high all the way to the ceiling. The space between each column of beds was just a metre wide, and every three beds a cross roads leading to the others either side.

Reitech armour lay piled up on the floors, as it was too bulky to fit in the narrow lockers beside the beds. It wasn't an old vessel, but it was a sign of how much technology and equipment had changed since it had been laid down. Every bunk in sight was taken. Half the marines filling them were asleep; the others were desperately trying to get to the same state. Few had even taken the time to draw the curtains across for privacy. The light was dimmed anyway, so few cared.

Considering how many of them were awake, it was eerily quiet, with just one quiet conversation going on in the distance. He carried on down the line until he stopped on finding a small plaque with his name on it beside one of the beds. He looked around to see it was the only one. The bed had been reserved for him. It was a middle bunk and therefore at waist height, for the lowest lay almost on the deck.

Taylor stowed his rifle in the locker and pulled off his armour. But as he opened the curtain to his bed he stopped in surprise to see someone inside. It was Eli, wide-awake and staring at him.

"And I thought this one had been saved for me?" he asked jokingly.

"Oh, it is, as long as you don't mind sharing."

He climbed into the bunk, but even with Eli on her side, they could only just squeeze in, but he didn't care.

"Time to learn how the rest of us live," she said with a smile.

"Sure beats a muddy trench or some bombed out wreck of a town."

"Got that right."

"And anyway, not like you have had to rough it like this in over a decade, Sergeant."

She only smiled in response and cuddled into his shoulder. Taylor was exhausted and falling asleep with seconds of lying down.

"Do you think we'll ever get home? Do you think we'll ever step foot there again? Stand on real earth and sleep in a proper bed?" she asked.

Taylor at first grumbled and then realised what she had said.

"Damn right we will."

He then nodded off to sleep.

* * *

"They're here! They're here!"

Kelly didn't move or flinch. He knew the enemy was coming and had expected it. The only thing that surprised him was that he was still alive.

"Sir, what the fuck are we gonna do?"

Kelly did not respond.

"Sir!"

Finally, he looked up. It was Doyle; a man who had been with him since it had all began. He turned and looked to Lewis who was sat opposite him in his own home.

"What do we do, Sir?" Doyle asked once again.

"What would you do?"

Doyle was dumbfounded.

"Me?" he answered before a long pause, "Sir, you're the Commander. You are our leader. You must know what to do?"

Kelly shook his head.

"We have to do something," Lewis added.

"We stayed here as to not abandon our home again, but we might as well have gone if we're gonna sit around here and wait to die," said Doyle.

Kelly was trying to consider all their options and could not find an answer or solution.

"There are millions of people left on Earth. We can fight," Doyle said.

"With what? Our infrastructure is gone. What armies are still fighting have been shattered."

"Then we fight them in a different way," said Lewis.

"Kelly looked up at the comms officer desperately wanting to hear an answer to their problems. He was tired of the responsibility that hung so heavily on his shoulders. He didn't say a word, but waited for Lewis to go on.

"We can't win in a straight up fight. So don't. Those bastards see an army, a city, or a stronghold, and they send everything they have at that target and flatten it. So let’s not give them that luxury. Let's scatter and hit them where they are weak, and at a time and place of our choosing."

"You're talking about a guerrilla war?"

"Yes, why not? It's worked so many times before, why not? It's that or lay down and die."

Kelly thought about it for a moment. He wondered if he even had the energy left in his body. He was still fit and strong, but he was pushing seventy and weary of it all.

"Sir?" Doyle spoke softly.

Kelly turned to him.

"We've fought, and bled, and lost friends. Lost our colony. But we fought on. We earned the right to be here, to live. Was it all for nothing?"

Kelly shook his head.

"Then what are you waiting for, Sir? The fight is here. It is on us, here and now. If you were going to give up, you should have done it years ago. You've dragged us this far, and I won't let you give up now."

Kelly was utterly surprised by Doyle's words that cut so deeply. He looked to Lewis who only nodded in agreement.

"So you want to fight? Fight, knowing we probably can't win. That we will only prolong ours lives by maybe a few days or weeks?"

"I don't think it's about survival anymore. Taylor and everyone who got off this planet are survivors. I want to hurt those alien bastards. I don't care if I live or die anymore, but I want them to suffer."