Prologue
The unity of the Alliance seemed utterly destroyed when the Cholan Empire was beaten into submission and turned on the remaining races. The Morohta and their terrifying Queen Bolormaa had been cut off, buying the Allies valuable time to recover and rebuild their forces. But the Cholan betrayal threatened to end the Alliance before it could even survive long enough to face the Queen and her legions.
Colonel Mitch Taylor is a man out of his own time, resurrected hundreds of years after his glory days, but he knew that without unity, there was no chance of survival. Increasingly finding himself attached and bonded to those around him by comradery and love, he gave everything to bring the Cholan Empire back in line. His outrageous and aggressive plan was a success, and the Alliance held firm once again. But from the very beginning, they all knew more than just ships and soldiers would be needed.
Stories of a long forgotten weapon began to arise, a weapon forged by Bolormaa's mother, and one that could kill even the most powerful of the Morohta Lords. With little faith, but nothing to lose, Taylor set out on a quest to find the weapon few believed ever existed. It almost cost him his life, but in their final hour, the comradery he had come to rely on saw them through. Taylor and his Immortals discovered the weapon, and with it slayed one of Bolormaa's offspring - Prince Sarnai, a seemingly invincible warrior of the Morohta people.
Despite that encounter, when Taylor barely survived, he and his friends remain standing in defiance of Bolormaa. A cry of hope has rung out across the Alliance, a shockwave the Queen herself must hear from the far side of the universe. Taylor has shown the way forward, but the price on his head could be more terrifying than any yet. He is the number one target for all who serve the enemy Queen, and she will do anything to avenge the death of her son and recover the weapon that she fears so much.
All eyes now look to Taylor. He has won the trust and belief of the people of the Alliance, but can he live up to their expectations? Time is counting down to the return of the Morohta, and the question still remains, can the Alliance stand against their Retaliation?
Chapter 1
"Lieutenant Jones to the bridge, Lieutenant Jones to the bridge," a voice commanded with no sign of urgency.
Jones was awake but lying flat out on his bunk. He couldn't sleep any longer, but neither could he find the motivation to get up.
He sighed as he spoke to himself, "Great, another empty rock to look at."
He thought back to his first adventure into space. He remembered how excited he had been to explore so much of the universe he had not been to before, and even some that humans had never seen. That excitement felt like a lifetime ago. The chance and thrill of finding new life and new worlds replaced by a fear of an enemy lurking in the shadows waiting to pounce. His youthful exuberance had been ripped from him, and coldness now filled that space.
Jones groaned as he got up and began to pull on his uniform. He could understand Taylor's weariness. He had spent his life dreaming of space travels and the adventures he could experience. He imagined the euphoria he had dreamed of, but now he would give anything to be back on Earth on firm ground and with fresh air. He clipped his duty belt on with sidearm and strolled out of his quarters with zero enthusiasm.
As he strolled down the corridors of the brand new warship, he could see the crew were as fresh and untested as the vessel herself. Morale was low, nothing like he had ever seen aboard a newly launched ship. Few had experienced combat, and yet they already looked as drained as he did. He stepped aboard the bridge to find a projected display of a planet ahead. It looked bleak and dry with nothing but sharp canyons and rock.
"Lovely," he said.
The ship's Captain turned to greet him.
"We are getting a transmission from the surface. Someone or something is down there," he said in a mild Russian accent.
Jones looked back at the planet and shook his head.
"Captain Lushkov, the only thing that is down there is more rock."
The Russian smiled. He was a tall man. Not bulky in build, but strong, and he held himself upright and proudly. He was almost bald, despite the fact he was only forty years old. He bore no scars, but it was clear he was one of the few aboard that had seen real action.
"This time I really mean it. There is something down there," he added.
Jones sighed.
"All right, send down a drone."
"We already have," he said, pointing to a video feed attached to a vessel approaching the planet at a fair pace.
Jones' interest was finally spiked. He tapped a button on the communicator on his wrist.
"First and Second Platoons gear up and report to the cargo bay. Fourth Platoon, remain on duty and be vigilant," he ordered.
"What are you expecting to find? An army?" Lushkov asked.
"I don't expect to find anything, but it usually finds me. It doesn't cost anything to be prepared."
"No, but after more than twenty such occasions, we haven't found anything. There are no enemy here, not yet."
"Yes, and being around Taylor long enough there is one thing I do know. In his words, things can go from slick to shit in a second."
The Russian smiled, clearly appreciating the analogy.
"You are not bored yet of this endless routine?"
"It's what we signed up for, isn't it?" he replied half-heartedly.
They watched the video feed as the drone descended into the atmosphere. Neither expected to find anything. Jones sat back against one of the consoles and crossed his arms. The drone's forward camera soon revealed exactly what they had expected, the vast cavernous features they could see so clearly from a distance. It was a dry and dusty world that didn't look capable of supporting any kind of life.
I got out of bed for this, Jones thought.
He watched the craft soar across the barren surface and close in on the signal. It passed over one canyon to reveal the wreck of a craft in the valley below. Jones suddenly righted himself and sprang up, walking closer to study what he was seeing.
"It's human," said Lushkov.
"Yes, but from when?"
"It's hard to tell exactly, but it looks something like a type 18 frigate."
"Type 18?" Jones asked, sounding surprised, "I don't think I've ever seen one with my own eyes. I thought they were scrapped long before you or I were born."
"Further back even than that."
"Check the Alliance records. If a ship was lost in this area, there should be something."
"If the distress beacon is still active, then nobody ever found this wreck?"
The Captain nodded.
"But how?"
"We didn't even pick up the beacon until we were almost on top of it. I guess nobody else ever had a reason to visit this rock until now."
The ship was covered in so much dust from the surface, it was beginning to blend in and become part of the scenery. The drone circled around the vessel but could find no way in.
"Not a breach I can see," said Lushkov.
"Anything in the records yet?"
The Lieutenant looking into it shook her head. "No, Sir."
"Records for when that old thing was in service are far from complete. This could date back to the Krys Emergency."
Jones' eyes widened.
"That far back? Surely not!"
"Why not? If it was anything much more recent, we would know about it. But that was a wild time. A lot of ships were provided to loyalist forces. That might even explain why we don't have records for her. Not much more the drone can tell us, though, what do you want to do?"
"I'm going down there for a look."
"It's off mission. Nothing to do with the Morohta."
"We don't know what it is, when or where it came from. We need to at least check this out. It'll only be an hour or so to do that. Not like we are finding anything anywhere else. This is the first semblance of life we have seen since we came out here. Fact is, the Morohta are coming, but not yet. We took out their navigation capabilities, and they won't be getting them back anytime soon."
"Then what are we doing out here looking for them?"
Jones smiled.
"Better safe than sorry. Keep scanning the surface. I'm heading down there now."
Lushkov didn't argue with him. Jones had built a formidable reputation as a combat officer. Everyone understood that despite officially only being in command of a modest Marine detachment, the intention was for him to lead the way.
He soon reached the docking bay in full armour to find the two platoons fully equipped and waiting for him, just as he had asked. Half of the faces were new recruits. It was Alita Hariz who called them to attention. With Taylor out of action, she had filled Jones' shoes while he had assumed command of the Immortals. A name now almost universally accepted and marketed to inspire potential recruits. Their official title was fading rapidly from common usage, and they were recruiting from all services.
Five of the platoons were Krys, including Babacan. Still there were no Cholans. None had yet lived up to their standards and passed their tests.
"We finally found something!" Jones announced.
"Can we kill it?" Babacan asked.
Jones laughed, his Krys friend was not joking.
"A crashed vessel, one of our own. It's been down there sometime. It could be something. It could be nothing. I don't want any one of you letting your guard down because you think this is going to be easy. Easy operations tend to have a habit of biting back."
"You heard. Move it! Let's go, go, go!" Alita yelled.
The two platoons leapt into action and rushed aboard the two Stormers awaiting them. They were the latest models, with better armour, more powerful engines, and the latest countermeasure defences. The paint was like new, as they were yet to be used in anger. Jones was the last to board with Alita.
"Anything serious?" she asked him quietly.
"Doesn't look like it, but it's got me curious."
"Curious? That doesn't usually end well."
"You're getting as cynical as Taylor."
She smiled, but he knew it was more at the mention of Mitch's name than anything else.
"You think we'll have him back anytime soon?"
"Docs say he needs a few more weeks, but I doubt they'll be able to hold him down that long."
"Good, we need him, more than ever."
"Not like there is anyone to fight quite yet."
"There's always someone to fight. He taught me that. A moment of peace is just a dream.
She climbed into the pilot’s seat as the door sealed shut behind them. The engines soon fired up, and they rushed out into the blackness of space. They banked steeply until the light of the planet lit up the pilot’s display screens, and finally the vast barren world came into view.
"What an ugly planet," stated Alita.
"Yeah, I guess nobody ever comes here for a reason. It's got no air, barely any resources of note. No water."
"Yeah, and all kinds electrical interference coming from somewhere. Talk about a backwater."
"Well, we didn't come here for a vacation."
"Just as well."
They soon passed through the atmosphere and followed the path the drone had taken.
"What are you expecting to find here?"
Jones shrugged.
"Something...nothing."
She yawned. "You aren't getting tired of this yet?"
"I am, but at least this time we get to look at something other than more rock and space. Not every dustbowl has an old Alliance shipwreck."
"Hoping to find some treasure?"
"We certainly shouldn't find any life."
They passed over the top of the last valley and dropped down to hover a hundred metres above the surface of the wreckage. Alita studied the ground all around before launching scatter probes. Twenty small drones the size of a marble that dropped to the surface and provided readings on the ground.
"What were you expecting?"
"I wasn't expecting to find anything, doesn't mean we won't. You know the number of times we have landed somewhere that is supposedly safe and turns into a hell hole?"
Jones nodded in agreement as she began to descend to the surface.
"Not going to be much to breath out there."
"Visors on!" Jones ordered.
He pressed a button on his helmet, and the visor locked down to the collar of his armour.
"I still hate these things; they feel so claustrophobic."
"Not quite as much as Taylor, though."
Jones couldn't argue with that. She checked a few more readings outside before hitting the door release. A thick cloud of dust blew in through the opening and coated their gear thoroughly.
"You always bring us to the nicest of places, Sir," said Watkins.
"Yeah, a real prime holiday spot," Antos joined in.
"All right, let's get our heads in the game," said Jones.
He stepped out onto the surface with his rifle held at the ready, as if expecting the kind of trouble that he would need it. Alita Hariz stepped out casually beside him, and the others spread out around them.
"Ain't nothing here that draws life. I have scanned the whole area. Whatever was here is dead."
"Yeah? I always used to rely on sensors and scans, and those 'knowns' we take for granted. But you should know from Taylor not to rely on all that."
"It can get you killed," they said together, remembering the number of times the Colonel had tried to drill it into them.
"He's made it hundreds of years, so he must be doing something right," added Jones.
She nodded in agreement, following him a little more seriously and determined than before. As they approached the stricken abandoned vessel, they had a sense of scale. It was a substantial warship, as large as the one they were serving aboard, but it looked simplistic and antiquated compared to their frontline vessels. It was listing a little from where it had crashed down on an uneven rock outcrop. Several of the larger jagged rocks beneath had speared the craft when it had crashed.
Even through the dust, scorch marks and indentations were visible from where heavy ordnance had hit the hull, yet there seemed no breaches in the thick armour.
"Tough old girl must have suffered from engine failure."
"Why do you say that?"
"Well, look at it. She wasn't shot out of the sky. Must have lost power and dropped. Something was hitting her hard, but she held out," said Alita, and she rubber her gloved hands over the hull and the impacts.
"Name and ID have been cut off!" Bailey called out.
Alita turned back, surprised to see her brushing back an ID plate. It looked like it had been attacked with a saw. Jones took a few steps and then leapt using his boosters. He cleared ten metres and landed on a flat section on the port side of the hull near an access door. Alita jumped up beside him and watched him open a thickly armoured access hatch that revealed a keypad.
"How did you know about that?"
"Lushkov told me. He said all these old boats had an emergency override key that kicks in once an emergency distress beacon has been activated. To let search and rescue crews in."
"Well, why the hell haven't I been told that? I'm a damn pilot."
"Need to know basis, I guess."
She didn't look impressed.
He tapped in a long set of keys and stepped back, watching smugly as the lock prised open. The half metre thick armour door opened just a centimetre and was not powered at all. He reached forward and took hold of the thick steel handle, ready to swing it open.
"No!" Hariz yelled.
She had seen something he hadn't. She leapt at him, tackling him so hard they were thrown off the ledge of the hull. An explosion burst out from the opening just as they passed over the ledge. Flame and debris burst out above them as they crashed down to the surface below. Jones' landed hard with Alita on his back. His armour saved him from serious injury, but the impact stunned him, and he felt pain soar through his body. He blacked out for a moment, coming to as he was turned over onto his back.
He gasped for air, and his suit couldn't provide all he wanted. He instinctively reached for his visor release, but Alita grabbed his hand and tapped his helmet until he came to his senses. There was a long crack running the length of his visor, but it was still sealed.
"What the hell was that?" he asked.
"Booby-trap...thing was wired to blow."
It suddenly dawned on Jones how close they had both come to certain death, and it silenced him.
"That was pretty close, huh?" she asked as they looked around at the debris. The remains of the door lay ten metres away from them, as well as several other parts of the framework around it.
"Everyone okay?" Alita shouted.
She looked around in amazement to see they hadn't taken a single casualty.
"That was too close a call," she whispered quietly to him.
Lushkov's panicked voice came over their comms.
"This is the Navarin. What the hell is going on down there?"
After a few moments, Jones managed to get a few words out.
"We're okay, no casualties. It's fine."
"It doesn't look fine to us. That is an empty ship, a dead old empty ship. It almost just cost you your life. May I suggest we give up and move on. There is nothing more to be gained here."
"No, this thing was left as a trap for some reason, and I want to know why," he replied as he got to his feet.
He jumped back up to where he had been standing before the blast. There was a two-metre breach where the door had been and nothing left of whatever device had caused the explosion.
"It's tried to kill us once, don't you think it's best left alone?"
Alita was standing beside him, and he hadn't even heard her arrive. Before he could respond, the Captain's voice rang out from his comms link once again.
"We just received a jump signature from the far side of this world."
Jones looked questioningly at Alita.
"Who would be coming to join us out here?"
"Probably just another Alliance ship patrolling, like us. If they made it out this far, then maybe they tracked the same beacon."
"Negative, this vessel it not using Alliance transponders. Whatever this is, they aren't Alliance."
The Captain's voice was suddenly drowned out by the crack of engines from something entering the atmosphere. They looked up to try and spot what it was, but they were too deep into the valley.
"I don't like this at all," stated Alita.
They both rushed forward, scrambling over the craft and up the rockfaces to get a view into the next valley. The engines were getting louder, but no closer as they reached the crest. Jones finally reached the top to peer over, and he felt his heart sink. A jet-black and almost crab shape craft lay in the canyon below. He didn't recognise the particular shape, but its construction and style was exactly that of the Morohta. He turned back to talk to Alita, but as he did, he noticed a glimmer of movement out of the corner of his eye. He turned just in time to see a blade swing for his head.
He dropped down onto his back and fired a burst into the creature looming over him. Alita joined him. It was a large and robustly built bipedal creature, not unlike the Krys in size. It wore a mask over half of its dark red-skinned face and long locks of hair. Black body armour was adorned with garish jewels and animal hides. But he didn't have any more time to study it. It lifted a gun with its other arm to take aim, but the burst of gunfire riddled the creature with bullets until it collapsed down dead.
Even before it had touched the surface, a call came in from Lushkov with a serious and hurried voice.
"We've got incoming enemy craft!"
"No shit," replied Jones as he had heard Taylor snap back so many times.
As he got up, a dozen more of the red-skinned warriors were running up the embankment towards them. Even more poured out from the hull of the ship, and Alita lifted her rifle over the edge to take aim, but Jones grabbed her and hauled her back.
"Run!"
She didn't argue, and they rushed on down into the valley. The platoons below needed no orders. They had already taken up position ready to defend themselves. Jones and Alita kept running past the frontlines and made a break for their aircraft. When they were near enough, they jumped off the side of the old frigate and hit the ground running. They made it half way across the open plain when volleys of gunfire rang out from those behind them.
Jones looked back for just a moment. Five of the barbaric looking enemy collapsed dead over the knife-edge of the canyon top. They carried on running and rushed into the cover of the thickly armour Stormers, and then looked back to survey the situation and gather their bearings.
"Who the heck are they?" Alita asked.
"Got to be Morohta forces."
"How many?"
"Enough that we can handle," he replied, lifting his rifle and laying down fire on those rushing to get over the edge. They were cut down before they could even bring their weapons to bear. Their body armour seemed to offer little protection against the powerful rifle rounds they were using. Jones was relieved for a moment to know they could hold, but even as he thought it, they heard the roar of the engines of several other craft fly overhead and swoop in to outflank them. Lushkov's voice came over the comms once again, and it was even shakier than before.
"We have more ships on approach."
"We've got our own troubles here. We need assistance."
"We can't give it. We need you back here."
"We've got problems," said Alita.
Jones watched three enemy ships descend to ground level. They seemed to have no fixed weapons of any kind, but ramps dropped down. Enemy soldiers, just as they had seen before, came rushing out.
"Lushkov, we're coming to you. Jones out."
"Everyone back to the boats! Move, move, move!"
He activated the shield on his arm. It flashed to life as a volley of fire smashed into the Stormer beside him. The enemy fire seemed poorly aimed but was thundering in at quite a rate. They opened up on full auto and rushed forward as if with no care for their lives. Jones looked back to see the two platoons advancing in good order, still keeping up their fire. He wanted nothing more than to jump aboard the Stormer and get out of there, but they were coming dangerously close to being swamped before they could all get aboard. Those who had reached the craft had to keep laying down cover.
"Take them down!" Jones hollered.
He slammed in a new magazine. A bullet struck his leg, and he slipped down onto one knee. His armour had glanced the round, but he felt the joint click, and pain shot through his leg. The horde was rushing towards him. They were cut down in great numbers, but still they came. He fought through the pain but stayed on one knee. He pushed his rifle out from around his shield and continued firing. Two of theirs were down, and more ships were coming in to land all around them.
"We can't stay here!" Alita shouted.
"Not like we can get aboard right now, either!"
"If we don't go now, none of us will make it!"
He looked around. Hundreds of the barbaric looking enemy were rushing at them. Gunfire was landing all around them. He felt a shot bounce off the side of his helmet, and his shield flashed with light as it brushed off yet more rounds.
"Fall back. Everyone inside now, double time it!" he yelled through the comms.
He ran to the door of their Stormer but stopped short of climbing inside so that he could cover the others as they made a break for it. Alita rushed in to fire up the engines as they began to pour in. They were half full when his magazine ran empty, and he reached down for a fresh one. As he lifted it, a burst of fire ripped through his rifle, and he felt one of the rounds penetrate the inside of his arm. He let out a cry of pain as the broken weapon dropped to his side. Antos stopped at the door beside him.
"I'm okay," he insisted, "Get inside!"
He grimaced at the pain and gritted his teeth, drew out his pistol, and took the next enemy in his sights. He fired three shots and dropped it. The gruesome looking foes seemed to be roaring and screaming all sorts of intimidating and primal war cries.
I can't imagine what they might do if they get close enough.
Watkins was the last of his platoon running towards him. He carried another of their wounded on his back. Blood seeped from a wound on Watkins' leg, and he was limping all the way, yet still managed a jogging pace.
"Come on!" Jones shouted.
Two of the enemy rushed at Watkins with gun and blade in hand. Jones fired two shots at each and dropped them quickly. They were still ten metres out when a burst of gunfire raked Watkins' back. He collapsed forward and slammed into the dirt. Even then, he kept a firm grasp of the wounded woman on his back. He fought to get back up, and Jones leapt forward to assist but was stopped dead by a firm grasp of his armour. Before he could see who it was, he was hauled back through the doorway. As the door slid shut, he saw Watkins shake from impacts smashing into his torso from multiple directions. His armour stopped many, but not all. The door sealed, and Jones turned furiously to find Antos behind him.
"You'd only die with him," said the biggest man in the unit with a tear in his eye.
Jones pushed past him and rushed to the cockpit to the view screens. As he reached Alita, the engines were roaring, and they were lifting off. Enemy soldiers obscured two display screens. They had leapt onto their craft like wild beasts. Then he spotted Watkins. He held his rifle in one hand and pistol in the other and was firing in all directions, as dozens of them rushed at him. More rounds pierced his armour, and yet still he went on until finally one of the enemies reached his back and delivered a brutal cut down into his collar. It pierced deeply and drove him down onto his knees. He vanished beneath the horde.
Alita squeezed the trigger on a second joystick controlling Gatling guns fitted in the nose of the craft. They raked the enemy, but did little against their vast numbers. They watched as the two hangers-on fell as they ascended. They knew they were safe, for now. Alita looked to Jones, though they were both too shocked and horrified to speak of it. He turned back to his platoon. The veterans among them looked as stunned as the raw recruits. None of them had expected a battle, and seeing Watkins get cut down was an image they would never forget, but Jones could think of nothing to say. He looked down at the broken rifle hanging at his side, unclipped it, and threw it aside.
"Weapons check!" he yelled, "The Navarin is under attack. We're gonna be going in hot. Don't think this is over yet. If we want to get out of this alive, then you will keep doing your job. Do what you were trained to do!"
Chapter 2
Lushkov’s voice rang out over the speakers. He was effectively narrating the entire progress of the battle for them as they rushed back to join the fight. There was a solemn silence aboard the Stormer as every one of them clung to his words.
"We've got a second breach and fires across three decks. Batteries A and C are damaged. We can't take much more of this."
Jones did not respond, knowing there was nothing of value he could say. The other two platoons were aboard the ship, and he had every faith in them doing all that they could to repel borders.
"Almost there!"
As the words came out of Alita’s mouth, a heavy impact struck the ship that shook them violently. The interior lights flickered for a moment. The structure appeared to hold solid, but they were soon hit by a second and third impact. Alita tried to duck and weave, but the heavy assault craft wasn't agile enough to avert any of the fire coming at them. Another two impacts rocked them badly, and Alita looked back at Jones. They both knew they couldn't take many more.
"Making final descent, thirty seconds!"
A lot could happen in thirty seconds. Another impact caused a circuit above Jones to fizzle with sparks and splash over his helmet. Flames gushed out. The auto extinguishers quickly kicked in to their relief. Another impact rocked them, and the lighting went down to low emergency only.
"We've lost flight controls!"
Jones leaned in to see they were at least heading on a direct path for the landing bay. They just had to hope nothing knocked them off course. She hit the landing thrusters to slow them down as they made their final descent, but another impact caused them to power down completely.
"I've got nothing, nothing at all. We're flying blind," Alita screamed.
There were no viewing ports on the Stormers at all. They could see nothing of the outside world, but the thick hull had kept them alive so far.
"Brace for impact!"
They activated the restraints. It was an awful gut wrenching feeling for all of them. They didn't know if they were on course or if they would miss entirely. Worse still, they might crash and burn into the Navarin herself. Nobody said a word as they each prayed and hoped to make it out alive.
After what seemed an eternity, the bow smashed violently into the Navarin. They were sent into a spin as they crashed down onto the landing pad and rolled several times, smashing into a bulkhead and rocking to a halt. Jones looked around in amazement to see nobody was hurt, though he still didn't know for certain if they were aboard. He rushed to the door and hit the emergency release. It popped open slightly and jammed.
He threw all his weight against the door. It buckled and swung out so that he crashed to the floor and rolled until he landed on one knee. He lifted his arm to tell Lushkov to jump, but he could already feel the jump sequence beginning. A flash of light lit up the bay. A pulse from an enemy ship was heading right for them as well as several missiles, just seconds from impact. They could do nothing but wait and hope. A bright white light flashed, and they felt the impact of the jump begin. It was the biggest relief they could have hoped for. Seconds later, they appeared in open space, and all was quiet.
"We made it," said Alita incredulously.
The other Stormer had crashed similarly on the other side of the docking bay a little further in. A fire was raging at a console beside the bow and already starting to engulf it.
"Come on, give me a hand!" Jones shouted.
He rushed towards the stricken craft, but before he had got more than a few paces, a burst of gunfire landed at his feet. One shot ricocheted off his shoulder armour. More than a dozen of the barbaric enemy soldiers rushed towards them in a frenzy and with guns blazing. He activated his shield and shouted out, "Hold position, Babacan with me!"
The two of them rushed onwards with their shields at their sides to provide cover as the rest of the platoon laid down fire. They reached the burning craft. The door had been released slightly but was jammed.
"Everyone okay in there?" he shouted.
"We've got casualties, but we're all still breathing!" Bailey shouted through the narrow gap.
"Give me a hand," he said to Babacan. He took hold of the edge of the door and tried to lever it open. He could feel his arm weaken slightly from the wound, but he tried to fight through. He put in everything he had, and Babacan did the same, but it wouldn't budge. The flames had spread another metre across the vessel. They didn't have long. The black smoke and fumes were spreading.
He could taste them now. The crack in the glass of his visor had opened slightly. He was losing air from his suit and taking in foul fumes. He tried one last time to pull the door open, but he could see it was futile. He pressed his head up against the opening and shouted through.
"Move back! We're going to have to blow this thing!"
He didn't wait for a response, for he knew they didn't have time. He drew out a breaching charge and primed it, jamming it as far into the open doorway as possible. He ducked back away and watched as his platoon cut down the enemy with ruthless efficiency. And yet for as many as they killed, they did not stop coming. His people hadn't taken a casualty yet. The charge blew precisely and rocked the door just a little but did not open it.
Once again the two of them got a hold on the rim of the door that was now full out to get a better grasp and heaved with all their strength. It lurched and swung halfway open before seizing to a halt. Bailey was first out with one of the wounded over her shoulder. Jones drew his pistol to cover them as they made a dash from the burning craft.
"Where are the deck crews?" she asked as she went past.
"Ship is under attack, they must have sealed off all access!"
The rest were pouring out, and two others were carrying wounded team members. He took one last look inside. The flicker of flames in the interior was quickly spreading. He was content no one was left inside. He rushed on after the others but did not waste the ammunition in his pistol; his people were getting the job done well enough.
As he reached them, the firing finally stopped as the last of the enemy dropped dead. It was a strange sight to see so much bloodshed, as Jones had gotten quite used to fighting the robotic warriors of the Morohta. A door rose beside them, and they all turned with rifles at the ready. A deck crew team rushed out with extinguishers and tools. They passed through the Immortals ranks to get to work without a word.
"What the hell are those things?" Alita asked, "They’re not like anything we have seen before."
"The war with the Morohta has barely begun. I am sure there is plenty we haven't seen yet. Just be thankful these things are more manageable than some of the creatures we have had to deal with."
"Forgive me if I don't feel thankful."
"Lieutenant Jones, are you still with us?" Lushkov asked over the comms.
"Yeah, we're still here. A little battered and bloody, but most of us made it back."
"Your work isn't done yet."
Alita scowled at the words as she realised they weren't in the clear yet.
"What do you need, Sir?" Jones asked.
"We've got multiple breaches and enemy reported across several decks. Your people are already working to clear the upper decks, but there is only so much ground they can cover. We have sealed the bridge and all areas possible. We..."
An explosion rang out. It rocked the vessel, and the lights went out for a few seconds before emergency lighting kicked in.
"What the hell was that? Lushkov? Lushkov!"
Nothing came back.
"Must have knocked out power to the bridge."
Jones looked over to the docking bay doors. They had sealed. He checked the readings on the console on his arm. He was almost out of air, but life support on the ship was still working. He raised his visor. It was much more comfortable having it away from his face. Their medic was already working on the wounded. All but one was still conscious.
"All right, listen up," said Jones, "Ship's borders have been compromised. This is going to be a sweep and clear operation. We don't know the enemy strength or exact location. We are going to need all the hands we can get. Wilcox, you keep tending to the wounded."
He looked over to the five casualties. They were relieved to stay put.
"But we can't spare anyone to take care of you. You keep your weapons in hand and be ready to defend one another, you hear?"
"Got it," said Wilcox.
She didn't look bothered at all by the prospect and lifted one of the wounded women's rifles into her hands.
"Okay. We have a lot of ground to cover, so we do this in five-man fireteams. You know what to do, and Babacan, you're with me. Spread out, sweep and clear."
They were vague orders, but he couldn't be any clearer. He had no idea where the enemy really was. He rushed to the main access door and punched in the code, half expecting to find the enemy standing there, but the bodies of three crewmembers slumped out from where they had been cornered.
"Poor souls," he said as blood seeped out across the deck and encased his boots. Seeing the enemy’s blood made him uncomfortable, but this turned his stomach.
"Let's get these bastards," he said to the others.
He understood how Taylor could be so cold towards the enemy, all of his enemies. Seeing the carnage created by the enemy made his blood boil, just as it always had done for Taylor. He wanted blood now. He wanted revenge, and he didn't think any less of himself for doing so.
"Whoever sent us there really screwed up, didn't they?" Antos asked.
Jones shook his head.
"I'm not sure anyone could have predicted we would find any enemy resistance, let alone this kind of trouble."
His mind was already trying to calculate how and why they were able to strike there, but the puzzle was starting to hurt his head, and many of the possible answers were terrifying.
"Let's just deal with what's in front of us, and go from there."
They carried on and reached an elevator. Two crew, one an officer from the bridge lay dead inside, and the power was out. One of the enemy was slumped dead beside them. He wanted to stop and study the fallen enemy at his feet, but he did not have time, and his blood lust was not yet fulfilled.
He rushed on without another word and soon heard screams from crewmembers fleeing towards their position. Jones took a fork and then another bend. Three of the crew were running towards him in a panic. They were unarmed. One was cradling a wounded arm, and another was covered in someone else’s blood.
“Move, move, move!” he bellowed at them, but he needn’t have.
They were running as fast as they could. Two made it past him, but the last was still blocking his line of sight. Before he could get past, the crewmember was raked in the back by a burst of gunfire and collapsed forwards. This was Jones' opportunity. Three of the enemy were ahead and rushing towards him in a frenzy. He fired two shots into the head of the nearest.
A hail of return fire bounced from his shield. Two more shots and another dropped, but a lucky burst of gunfire from the last clipped the barrel of his pistol and ripped it from his hands. He could have stepped aside and let the others deal with the final enemy for him; instead he reached for his Assegai, letting out a war cry and running full speed at the creature.
Jones smashed into the charging alien with all his power, and they both crashed to a halt as if completely matched in strength and mass. He didn’t want to think what that would have been like without the power assistance his suit gave him. His shield smothered the creature, and he quickly reached around and thrust his Assegai into its flank. It roared in pain and anger, smashing down its primitive blade to strike him. But Jones lifted his shield aloft and drove the upper edge into its arm. Almost all the strength of the cut was taken out of the impact as it hit the surface of his shield.
With the creature’s lower body exposed, he drove his blade down into its right leg. He then drew it out and thrust the blade into its stomach, pushing until he drove it back against the far wall. The creature was pinned and losing strength. He drew out the blade and thrust it through the side of the warrior’s head. Blood poured out of his shield and left arm. He drew back the blade, and the creature fell to his feet. There were just a few seconds of silence before the snarling cries of the enemy rang out, and a group rushed around the corner ahead.
Babacan lifted his Hydra as Jones turned and slammed into the wall to clear the line of sight. A devastating hail of fire rushed past him. The multi-barrelled machine gun rained death down on all who were attacking them. Less than ten seconds and all were dead. Smoke rose from the super heated barrels of the weapon, and Babacan looked and marvelled at his work like an artist would his canvas.
"Thanks," said Jones.
He looked down at the blood dripping over his gloves. It was thicker than human blood, almost congealed.
"Disgusting," he said and knelt down, wiping it off on the body of his victim.
He picked up his pistol. The muzzle had been damaged from the shot. He threw it aside and carried on with just his Assegai in hand.
"Antos, lead the way."
The hulking soldier moved forward. He was larger than any of the humans in their unit, halfway to the size of the Krys. The rifle looked like a toy in his hands. They could hear gunfire echoing in the distance, but were glad to recognise the sound of familiar weaponry.
"Those are ours," stated Jones as he went forward at Antos' back.
He recalled the number of accounts where Taylor had found himself in similar circumstances, all the way back to his first encounter with the Krys at the Lunar colony. He remembered how invincible the enemy seemed in the combat reports, and he appreciated just how lucky they were now. However bad this was, it could be a whole lot worse.
They reached another sealed door, and Jones punched in the code from over Antos' shoulder. The door swung open, and they found themselves looking at a column of the enemy soldiers rushing past. Antos immediately opened fire at two of them. Another stopped to return fire but was riddled with shots. The next ducked back for cover.
Jones pulled out two grenades and launched them out each side. A single enemy leapt out to attack them rather than die at the hands of the grenades. He came out guns blazing, but just two shots hit Antos' shield before he was cut down by another burst. Antos was slamming in another clip as the grenades blew, and Jones rushed past him to get stuck in. Babacan was close behind. Jones took a right and Babacan a left. The Hydra roared at Jones' back as he surveyed the scene before him. One enemy stood along the corridor, trying to clear a weapon jam. Another lay wounded and barely breathing just a few paces in front.
He rushed ahead and didn't even break stride. He stamped on the wounded soldier’s head so that he crushed the skull and rushed onwards at the other. The enemy could see the speed at which he was advancing and threw his weapon down, swinging a heavy cut with his blade. Jones' shield took the full force of the impact. It forced him to veer off to one side and crash into the sidewall, bouncing off and tumbling into the enemy soldier.
They both landed hard, but the creature’s weapon lay pinned while Jones' nimble little Assegai was free to strike. The soldier hissed and brandished its teeth in defiance. He had no doubt it would rip his throat out given half a chance, but it was immobilised firmly under him. He drove his Assegai into the warrior’s chest and up towards the throat until it lay dead.
He pulled back the blade. The sound of the Hydra was still roaring at his back as Babacan slew a dozen of the enemy. They carried onwards. Gunfire rang out ahead, once again from their people, but a series of heavy impacts brought them to silence. They were not the sounds of explosions. It was if the ship was being rocked by some external source that was vibrating through the decks.
"What is that?" Antos asked.
Jones' had no answers. They led the way side by side now, and the thunderous noises were getting louder. Jones stopped them, and they waited and listened. Whatever it was, it was ahead and getting closer at a rapid pace. They looked at one another with astonishment, for they could not understand it. The heavy echoes were like the sound of something huge stomping and threshing around, but it made no sense. And then all of their questions were answered in the blink of an eye.
A huge four-legged creature with scaly skin and thick steel armour burst out around a corner. It crashed into the wall before getting its footing and rushing on towards them. It had thick hulking muscles and a jaw almost as high as its body. A head that seemed too large for its torso and a metre-long spike sticking out from an armoured plate on its nose. The skin was a dull black with haphazard red striping, and the armour was dulled and rusted.
"What on Earth is that?"
Jones shook his head at Antos in disbelief. It looked like some kind of prehistoric dinosaur that had been armoured up for war. There was no rider or seemingly any way for it to be controlled, and it was coming at them with speed. Had it been in the open air they might have laughed, for as dangerous as it looked, it was also a little comical. Yet in the confines of the ship, they all knew how terrifying the hulking beast would be if it reached them.
Babacan pushed them aside and quickly lifted his Hydra and opened fire. A hail of automatic gunfire rang out, but the creature kept coming. Many of the shots were bounced from its thick armour, and even the rounds that hit its skin didn't seem to penetrate. It was covering the straight distance between them quickly.
"Come on, move!" Jones screamed.
He pulled Babacan away down a side corridor, and the others quickly followed. It opened up into crew quarters. The door was wide open, and a few bodies lay on the floor. Babacan turned at the choke point. The creature clumsily crashed into the corridor but rushed onwards, and again Babacan opened fire. He began to roar as he stood his ground, but it seemed to have little effect. The creature smashed into him and ran right over him, crashing into a wall on the other side of the room.
Babacan wasn't moving, but there was nothing they could do for him yet.
"What the hell do we do, Sir?" Antos asked, as they stood circling the beast, and it looked at them with murderous intent. It stood two metres tall and twice as long with broad shoulders. It opened its jaw to show its long sharp teeth and barbed tongue. Jones looked down his Assegai. He had no doubt it would penetrate the creature’s thick hide, and yet he had no clue how to without being mauled or gorged.
"Nice beastie." Antos drew out his blade. They all knew their guns would do nothing, so he let his hang by his side.
"Really, what do we do?"
Babacan coughed and spluttered to life, but he looked stunned and unable to get up, and the creature was already taking an interest. Jones had to get the creature away from him.
"Stay here and look after Babacan.
"What are you going to do?"
"I don't know."
He quickly took flight and looked over his shoulder to check the creature had taken the bait. It couldn't help but chase him. He went back the way he had come. At first he seemed to outrun it, but as he sprinted down one of the long straight corridors, it began to gain on him. He took another turn and rushed past an enemy fighter without even attempting to strike him. The huge creature smashed into the warrior who bounced off the ceiling and was then trampled under its feet.
Jones was terrified, and he ran for his life now more than anything else. It had seemed like a good idea at the time to draw the creature away. He thought he would figure the rest out along the way, but the monster wasn't giving him a moment’s breathing space to figure something out. So he simply ran on, and as he took a bend, a most welcome sight came into view. Up ahead was an airlock. The inner door was open and the outer seal shut.
The creature was gaining on him again as they made a straight-line dash. He flicked the switch to lower his damaged visor as it had almost reached him. He got to the air lock and quickly leapt to one side. His forward motion was too much to stop as he veered off and crashed into the bulkhead. The creature could not stop or turn quickly enough as it barrelled onwards. Its head turned a little and snapped at him. Two of its teeth just skimmed the armour on his arm before it crashed through into the airlock, and with all its weight and momentum blasted through the outer door into space.
Jones was pulled quickly towards the opening as air vented to space. Several containers and bodies rushed past, but his boots locked down to the deck and held him firm. He reached up for the switch to close the inner door, but he felt his upper body being pulled away. He fought through it and with all his energy managed to reach it and smash his hand down on the button.
As the door sealed and pressure returned, he fell down onto the deck, the wind knocked out of him. He released the visor and gasped for air, utterly exhausted by both the run and oxygen starvation. He winced as he tried to get up, feeling the pain throughout his body. He stopped for a moment, as it was too much. He looked down at his arm. Blood was still pouring from the wound. He heard gunfire, and his head snapped up. One of the enemy stood before him with a gun pointed at his face. It was just out of reach, and he had no energy to try anything that would be quick enough.
A burst of gunfire rang out, and he closed his eyes on hearing the crack of the weapon. But he soon opened them, realising he was still alive, and that it was the familiar sound of their own rifles. It was like music to his ears. The enemy soldier slumped down dead. Alita and her team were now standing in front of him.
"What was that thing?" She looked through the glass of the airlock doors at the smashed inner air lock. Parts were hanging off with jagged edges.
"You don't want to know, just hope there aren't any more."
"Really, what was it?" she asked again, extending her hand and helping him to his feet.
"Something big, ugly, and powerful. I don't think you'd believe me if I told you. Best wait to see the photos for yourself, what is our status?"
She stopped asking questions, despite desperately wanting to know what he had encountered.
"We've swept eighty percent of the decks. The bridge is still sealed. We should have comms back up any moment now."
"Casualties?"
"Difficult to tell yet, but we've seen a lot of bodies along the way."
"Yeah, same," he replied wearily.
"And our own?"
"Nothing with us, you?"
"Let's go and find out."
He led them back to where he had left his team. They passed through several of their people until reaching the point where Babacan had been flattened. They found him propped up against the bulkhead and breathing faintly. Bailey was by his side.
"Thank you," he said softly as he saw Jones approaching.
"What for?"
"They said you led it away, saved me."
"All I did was run," he added with a smile.
Babacan smiled back, but it caused him to cough and splutter.
"You're gonna make it, you hear?"
Babacan nodded. "Of course," he replied defiantly.
"This is the Captain speaking."
Thank God! "This is Jones."
"Lieutenant, we are in friendly space. We've got no power to the engines, but help is on the way. We still need your teams sweeping the ship, but can you make it back to the bridge?"
"On my way, Jones out."
He saw the relief on all their faces. The barbaric warriors were nothing compared to some of the more formidable Morohta foes they had faced, but they’d struck in force and with the element of surprise. The death toll would be high.
"Bailey, Antos, you stay put. Hariz, you're coming with me to the bridge."
"And the other units?" she asked.
"Their orders haven't changed. We'll let them get on with it. Babacan, don't you die on me now. We need you."
He nodded and tried to grit his teeth though the pain, but he looked weak. He hauled the Hydra into his arms, but he could barely lift it.
"Carry on," added Jones before turning and leading the way.
Alita held her sidearm out for him. He sheathed his Assegai and gratefully took it.
"Guess I should be more careful with my weapons?" he said jokingly.
"Whatever it takes to stay in the fight, Sir."
He nodded in agreement and once again led the way. The ship was mostly quiet now. They hadn't heard any gunfire in several minutes as they made their way to the bridge. They passed many more dead crewmembers, but no wounded. Each had been shot or struck enough times to ensure there was no chance of survival. This was a brutal and savage enemy.
They rose up the steps to the bridge and suddenly heard fully automatic gunfire from multiple weapons. The rate of fire was far greater than their typical weaponry and sounded like a pair of Hydras or something similar. It was close by, as if coming from the bridge entrance. They waited for the sound to die down, and Jones crept up the last few steps with his shield held safely out in front.
As he reached the level of the bridge, he saw a pile of bodies, all enemies. The walls all around them were ripped apart by gunfire. He took the bend. More than a dozen bodies littered the entrance to the bridge door. Not a single one had gotten within two metres. He looked up to see two shortened Hydras mounted above the blast door, and they were trained on him.
"Lieutenant Jones coming through!" he yelled and stepped out into the corridor, but still keeping his shield up. The guns slowly descended, and he lowered his shield as the blast doors opened.
Two fully armoured marines lay in the doorway with rifles trained on him. They were not part of his unit, but stationed aboard the Navarin. He was pleased to see they were doing exactly what they were trained to do. He stepped aboard the bridge; Alita and his team took up position outside.
"Glad to see you held out, Captain," he said to Lushkov.
"This ship was built to last, and that includes boarding actions."
"And yet so many of your crew have fallen. How did so many of the enemy get aboard?"
Lushkov didn't look impressed. "They never would have were we not rescuing your people. The enemy got aboard because the shields were down and docking bays open for your arrival," he snapped.
Jones hadn't realised and calmed his tone somewhat.
"I am sorry, but none of us could have even suspected for a moment we would be attacked where we were. There is no reason for it. Where did they come from?"
"They came out of nowhere, jumped in just the other side of the planet, too close to it in fact. Half of their craft plummeted into the planet. Those who survived were masked by the atmosphere until they were almost on top of us."
"They jumped right into the atmo? Without the sort of power needed to get back out?"
"Taylor did it on the Cholan homeworld."
"Yes, as a crazy plan of attack, but he had a means of making it work."
"Nearly killed us all, though, didn't it?"
"We're still breathing, aren't we? Point is he did that because it was a gamble, why gamble here? We are one ship out on our own, no need to go through such danger. They could have come downright on top of us, and truly had the element of surprise."
"I don't think they chose to jump there," added Lushkov.
He was pointing at a map of the area projected around them.
"Go on," said Jones.
"Just look at it. Even with the nebula interference in the area, you would have enough knowledge of the paths of the planets and moons in the system to enable a safe jump with the right navigational aids."
"What are you saying?" Alita asked.
"That they jumped without navigation," added Jones in amazement.
"What? No way, they could have ended up anywhere. Cast into a sun or into the middle of an asteroid, anything. No one would be crazy enough for that."
"No one? There is always someone crazy enough to do anything. You should know that from Taylor, too."
"So what, they just happened to jump and land right beside us?"
"Maybe."
"But how?"
Jones shrugged.
"Throw enough of something in a vague direction, and one of them will find a target."
She shook her head. "No way. No one would do that."
"Well, I hope you're right."
Chapter 3
Taylor opened his eyes. He had been in and out of deep sleep for days now after having surgery. He was finally feeling like he had enough energy to sit up in bed. He tried to raise his upper body, but the pain caused him to wince. He reached for the rail of the bed and hauled himself up. He was still grimacing. His wounds were healing, yet were still not recovered. He looked up at Jones leaning against the wall in front of him. His arm was bandaged up. Taylor quickly hid the pain and smiled.
"What the fucking hell have you been up to while I’ve been away?"
Jones shrugged. He wanted to smile, but he hadn't gotten over their losses.
"They hit us, Mitch, hit us pretty hard."
Taylor couldn't believe what he was hearing.
"Not the Cholans again? I'll kill every last one of them!" he replied angrily.
But Jones' tone was still quiet and filled with sadness. Mitch was silent as Jones shook his head.
"No, not the Cholans. Something we haven't seen yet. I hear Councillor Irala knows more."
"Well who were they?"
"Some barbaric crazy fighters¸ sent by the Morohta we believe."
Taylor look flustered. He leapt from his bed. His legs buckled a little. Jones rushed to his side to help, but Taylor brushed him off.
"I'm fine," he snapped.
He grasped the bar that had helped him get upright to begin with and righted himself. His legs wobbled once again as he began to stretch and try to use them.
"You need to rest," said Jones sympathetically.
"I've rested long enough. There's a war going on out there."
"Doesn't change the fact that you aren't a hundred percent yet."
"Fuck that, I'll make do," he said, reaching for the fresh uniform lying folded on a table beside the bed. He pulled it on and was starting to feel more stable.
"You say Irala knows something. Take me to him."
"I don't think..."
"Don't think, Jones, just do it!"
He didn't want to argue any further, but he still shook his head at Taylor.
"Stop right there!"
They turned to see a doctor rushing towards them. Taylor scowled at the man with enough intent and ferocity that he was frozen stiff before them.
"Stand beside the Colonel, and behind him, but never in front of him," said Jones.
He was speaking from experience, and the doctor could tell. He stuttered a few times, but could not move. Taylor staggered on past him without another word with Jones beside him. As he took each pace, his legs started to soften up and his stride became smoother.
"You see; I needed to be up and about. Can't lie about all day."
Jones finally laughed at the absurdity of it. Taylor had brushed close to death once again, and he shrugged it off as if it were nothing more than a common cold.
"Where the hell are we even?"
But as Taylor took a turn, he recognised the junction and realised he was just disorientated. It was Ares 4. The base that had become his home since his resurrection, but it never really felt like home. Jones was leading the way and clearly knew exactly where to find Irala. He led them to Zenobia’s Garden. Had they been looking for anyone else, Taylor would have thought he was being played a prank, but he knew just how bizarre Irala could be.
They entered the gardens to find it busier than ever, awash with both military and civilian personnel.
"What the hell are they all doing here? Haven't they got work to do? They know time is not something we have much of, right?"
"You can't work people into the ground," replied Jones.
"And you can win a war without pulling out all the stops."
"Look at them. Look at their faces. They are exhausted, physically and mentally. They are just looking for somewhere to remind them what they are fighting for. Somewhere to get away from all the shit they have to deal with."
Taylor was surprised at his use of bad language. It was out of character, and yet he was more offended by the prospect that anyone had been overworked.
"If they think they've had it tough, then they need a good kick in the ass. The hardship hasn't even begun yet. What have they been doing all this time, building, managing resources, training? That's just the beginning."
"Yes, but they don't know that, and they need to be eased in slowly. Or at least I think so, don't you?"
Taylor sighed. He wasn't impressed, but he'd had enough when they eventually caught sight of Irala. He was standing alone, seemingly doing nothing more than staring into the trees and foliage, as if deep in thought or some kind of trance. They were approaching from his right hand rear side, and neither thought they had been noticed, but as they got within a few paces, he spoke.
"What can I do for you, Colonel?"
Taylor had to go round, as Irala seemed unwilling to break his trance or form of meditation.
"You seem to know more than the rest of us, care to share?"
He looked at Taylor and nodded. "Not here."
He turned and strode onwards with an expectation that they would follow. They did so; their curiosity could not have them do otherwise. They were led back to Irala's quarters in the VIP lounges. He opened up the door and led them inside a lavish apartment like structure, ten times what they had been given. It wasn't the stark and utilitarian interior Taylor had come to expect from the Aranui. There were large water tanks with exotic fish on either side of the room and all manner of curious artefacts on display.
"This isn't the Irala I used to know," said Taylor.
"It is true, and many have criticised me for it, that I have become...more human."
Taylor laughed. "You've got some way to go yet."
"You want to know about the creatures that attacked Lieutenant Jones and his team?"
"I do. Spit it out."
"We are familiar with their kind. The Morohta call them the Amitads. But we knew them as nothing more than primitive beasts. A blunt instrument available in great number for Bolormaa to cast out across the universe to wage war for her, without wasting her own kind or the technological marvels they have created."
"You sound like you respect her for it?" Jones asked, surprised.
"No harm in appreciating the prowess of an enemy," added Taylor, "You'd be wise to appreciate all they have achieved. It will help you understand how significant an enemy they are, and what a bastard it is going to be to beat them."
"I get that," replied Jones and turned to Irala, "But it wasn't just two-legged barbarians that came at us. Those looked like wild men of a sort. But it was a much larger creature, something on four legs and huge. Too thick a hide to penetrate with our rifles, and it barrelled around like some pre-historic dinosaur."
Irala nodded as if he knew precisely.
"The Gürveliin."
"Gruver what?" Taylor asked.
"The Gürveliin. They are what and how you describe them," Irala went on, "Foul and primitive beasts, even worse than their masters. Some ride them as mounts, and they use them at worst for their brute strength and resilience. A very simple creature, yet very effective at certain tasks."
"Okay, okay, so you seem to know plenty about these things, but how are they getting here? We knocked out the Morohta's ability to navigate for jumps, so there is no way they could reach us by now without faster than light travel."
"No," replied Irala succinctly.
"Well? Where did the fucking things come from?"
"You have already found your answer, Colonel."
"They jumped in? All right, I don't know how, but they can't have got there any other way. But why jump there? Empty space. Too few ships for a solid ambush, and too small a target to warrant a trap, anyway."
"Go on."
"You said they jumped into an atmosphere that killed plenty enough of them?" he asked Jones, who nodded in return, "So they jumped without navigation and hoped for the best?"
Irala nodded.
"That's insane. It's suicide."
"Not for all," added Jones, "Think about it. If you have enough of a resource, you can just cast it out. Scattergun approach. It's a callus and horrific thing to subject your people to. I wonder who could do such a thing."
"Erdogan would have, and all those who stood before him. No respect for those who served under them, no care for their lives."
"I had this theory, but it seems crazy that it's actually true."
An alarm began to sound violently, and a voice came over the tannoy system.
"All pilots report to deck. Launch intercept fighters. All bridge crew report to their stations."
"This can't be good," said Jones.
Taylor rushed to the door as quickly as he could. He still had a little hobble in his step, but it was getting better. Jones stayed with him, and Irala seemed to follow in a far more relaxed manner. They reached the bridge of the station and were allowed through without question.
There was a tall American officer in charge with a well-kept grey beard. He was calm and confident. He looked to be about fifty years old, but Taylor did not recognise him.
"Guess things have changed around here," he muttered.
"An awful lot has changed, and it keeps on doing so."
"Good, it needed to."
They watched the events unfold as the Captain went on.
"Where are the alert fighters, they should have launched sixty seconds ago?"
"That is Captain Wright," whispered Jones.
He spoke with an east coast American accent, and sounded well schooled and brought up. Though it was hard for Taylor to tell any more, as almost everyone he met sounded like the upper crust compared to his primitive ways.
"The pilots are making final prep now, Sir."
"This is unacceptable. When this is over, you will have the CAG report sent directly to me. His sloppy behaviour is endangering this station."
Taylor was a world apart from the Captain, nor had they even met, and yet he could already see they were going to get on.
"Fighters have launched, Sir."
The Captain watched every screen intently, studying all that was around him. As he turned from one station to another, he noticed Taylor.
"Welcome aboard, Colonel. I am sorry to say we have our hands full right now."
"No problem, Captain. You keep at it."
He looked down and realised he wasn't even carrying a sidearm nor wearing any armour, and that made him feel naked.
"We should gear up," he said quietly to Jones.
"You're not in any condition to fight."
"Fuck that, I'm breathing, aren't I?"
"Don't worry, Colonel. We have this in hand. This station is more than prepared to hold out against a well prepared attack, and this doesn't seem all to be that."
"Not to sound like an ass, Captain, but in my experience, these situations are rarely as simple as they appear."
"Agreed, but we can manage this."
Taylor was uneasy. He didn't like being a spectator, and even though he wanted to gear up was aware he wasn't ready. There was a scuffle at the entrance to the bridge. Alita was trying to break her way in through the guards.
"Let me through!" she bellowed.
But the two marines held her firmly in place. There was little she could do against an armoured up marine. The suits they wore provided a massive and necessary boost to human strength. Taylor was only glad that they were quickly becoming more widespread.
"Let her through!" he yelled.
The marines waited for confirmation from the Captain, but it was soon given. She rushed up to Taylor in absolute shock. He was just glad to see her, but she seemed furious.
"What on Earth are you doing here?"
"Wow," muttered Jones to himself, and he could see several of the crew smiling and a little embarrassed by the situation.
"I am precisely where I have chosen to be," he replied confidently.
"Are you fucking insane? You barely survived your injuries, and you could just as easily open them back up."
"I'm fine."
"Fine? You're not fine!"
Taylor was becoming increasingly frustrated. He could also see the base Captain was also getting irritated by the ruckus aboard his bridge.
"Lieutenant!" Taylor boomed.
She was silenced on hearing his angry and authoritative tone.
"Either stand beside us or leave this bridge."
She was shocked and surprised, and could not help but feel she had been brushed off. Yet when she looked around to the faces all around them, she had no choice but to step down. She had the right intentions but was out of line.
"Yes, Sir. Sorry, Sir," she replied for all to hear. She then took up position next to him.
"You know I'm right, though, don't you?" she whispered in his ear.
"Maybe, but if I am forced to stay in bed any longer, I am going to start killing people."
She smiled, but looking at his face, she realised he may not be joking.
"We have incoming, three enemy vessels, strike that, five enemy vessels at twenty klicks and closing."
"Activate all batteries. Order all support vessels to protect the civilian fleet. We will handle this alone."
He turned to Taylor who seemed more than a little surprised.
"This base is far more than last you knew it, Colonel. It is now a fully armed and armoured battle station that is more than capable of standing on its own. It may not have been built for that purpose, but the gears of war have been turning."
"I am glad to hear it."
"It's true," Jones added, "Without some of the changes I have seen lately, we may not have even made it back from that last mission."
He nodded in approval.
"Funny how things move on so quickly when you're at war, isn't it?"
"I am not sure that advancing the ability to cause death and destruction is progress."
"When the alternative is extermination, you can bet your fucking ass it is."
Irala had not said a word. He had been so still and quiet, he had forgotten he was even there.
"Got any light to shed here?" he asked his alien friend, who despite his age, didn't look a day older than the day they met.
"Your Lieutenant Jones was right the first time."
"But that's crazy. If they are just hurling these ships across space, they could end up anywhere. They'd have to throw out millions in order to score a lucky hit."
"Maybe not quite that many. Rudimentary navigation could have them placed in a rough area. It's still very dangerous. But if you sent a few thousand ships, then more than a handful would strike a target," added Jones.
"Fighters launched!"
They watched eighteen fighters soar out from the station to close the distance.
"Make sure the CAG knows to stay out of our fire solution!" Wright ordered.
He looked back to Taylor. "They aren't used to what this station can do yet."
Wright looked proud of the station he commanded, and Taylor appreciated that.
I just hope he can back up his claims.
"Bring our fighters into a holding pattern at five klicks."
They watched the fighters use forward thrusters to slow the descent and finally come to a halt.
"Those the same ships that attacked you before?" Taylor asked Jones.
"Yep, just the same."
"Lock the first four vessels. Fire when ready."
They waited and watched eagerly for something to happen. Taylor was becoming more and more agitated by the fact the enemy had not yet been engaged, but he had to sit back and let others do their jobs.
"I have a solution, Captain."
"Do it."
The space before them flashed with light as a hail of gunfire burst out from the ship. It was in such ferocious quantity that they lost close sight of their fighters below. The first two enemy ships were struck and blew apart immediately on impact. The third was cut in half, and the fourth smashed by a volley of fire, and yet somehow made it through. A second volley hit it with everything. It was struck by such an immense amount of fire that as the light faded, there appeared nothing left of the vessel; only the fifth remained and was still on the same intercept course.
"Why do they keep coming? Can't they see they have no chance?" Wright asked.
"Sometimes you meet an enemy that will come at you no matter what, until it draws its last breath. That is the most terrifying enemy of all, one that cannot be broken. It cannot be bought or bargained with or caused to flee."
"Target their engines, and fire when ready."
A small trickle of fire rang out, and their craft was struck. One engine was blown clear off the hull, and the other was powered down. It was knocked off path slightly but was still coming at them.
"Have our fighters close and bring them to a dead stop."
They watched the fighters move into position and fire grappling harnesses onto the hull of the enemy vessel, using their own engines to slow the vessel until it came to a halt three klicks from the station.
"Launch a Marine detachment. I want that ship captured intact, and I want survivors for interrogation."
"Captain, if I may say a few words?"
"Of course, Colonel."
"If you want what is best for all aboard this station, you will blow that vessel to hell, or at the very least hull her, vent to space, and leave her till you know there is nothing living inside."
"Why? This is an enemy we do not know much about. We can surely learn a lot if we capture their ship and them alive?"
Taylor shook his head.
"We learnt all we need to know from the dead ones we brought back," said Jones.
Taylor nodded in agreement. "It is a mistake to try and take the enemy alive. We still don't know their intentions, beyond their intent to do us harm. Destroy them now, and they can do no more harm."
The Captain looked uneasy. He didn't believe Taylor was right, and yet at the same time knew the power and control the Colonel held.
"Sorry, Colonel, but this is my decision. If we are going to face this enemy, I want to know what we are dealing with."
He looked back to his crew.
"Board her. Hold position until a full inspection can be carried out, and once our people are happy, I want her brought alongside for further investigation."
He turned back to Taylor.
"Colonel, I can understand your reservations, but we need information; the knowledge and an understanding of what we face here. This is the perfect opportunity for us."
"You do what you have to do, Captain, just don't underestimate the enemy, no matter what."
He left with Jones and Hariz, and once again Irala followed them, but he didn't know why. As he got off the bridge, he stopped and turned back to face Irala head on.
"Why didn't you back me up in there? You have plenty of sway around here and not a word, why?"
"To study the enemy is not a bad thing."
"Bullshit, you must have endless files on those things."
"Some, but from many centuries ago. If I based my opinion on humanity on my experiences of a thousand years ago, might that be an accurate assessment of your strength and abilities today?"
"No," Taylor sighed, thinking about it more, "I've just got a bad feeling about this. Study the dead ones fine, but don't bring live specimens in contact with us. That is a recipe for disaster."
"I am sure the Captain is more than capable of handling the situation."
"We'll see."
"So what now?"
"Now, Jones? I want a goddamn coffee!"
It wasn't long before they were sitting in a canteen with their drinks.
"I've been out for a while. Get me up to speed."
"It wasn't that long."
"And yet plenty has gone on. Seems like I have awoken to a shit storm. So tell me, what is the present situation of the Alliance? What enemy encounters have taken place, how goes the war effort? If I wanted to be fed a line of shit, I would go up the chain of command. I am asking you because I want it straight."
"Honestly, our encounter with the Amitads was out of the blue. Until then, it was much of the same. The war effort increases production every day. Ships are rolling off the lines, and troops are being trained. Technological advancements in anything to assist the war are always being worked on. Same old, really."
"And yet you ended up ambushed by the enemy. Right after we killed one of Bolormaa's sons, seems convenient, doesn't it?"
"I think the fact it was us that got hit was a coincidence, yes. But the enemy attacking in any way they can I think is no surprise at all."
Taylor shrugged. It made sense, but he didn't like to speculate with so little evidence.
"What are our orders?"
Jones shrugged.
"We don't have any," added Alita.
"And the spear, what was it called, the Tamir, where is it now?"
"The Pauri Tao," Irala corrected him.
He hated using the Krys language for anything.
"Whatever you want to call it."
"The Pauri Tao is under the protection of my people, in its rightful place."
Taylor looked appalled. "We risked our lives for that spear. A weapon your own people didn't even believe in."
Irala had no response, so he turned to Alita. It was she who used it to slay the Morohta Prince.
"Well? Why did you give it up?"
She shook her head. "I had no choice. The President ordered me to."
Taylor groaned.
"We could not keep it safe, anyway. We are a frontline combat unit. That spear needs to be protected, and a very closely guarded secret. It has to be kept safe for the time when we really need it."
Taylor was still not convinced, so he went back to Irala.
"Do you promise me that it is safe, and that when it is necessary, we will have it to hand?"
"If the time is right, you shall lay your hand upon it."
"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?"
"You need to understand, Colonel, the Pauri Tao is a holy relic, and even though many of my people did not believe in it anymore, now they do. It has led to the Aranui re-thinking all they know and believe. For if the great story of the Pauri Tao is true, what else might be? Open your mind, and let it dream about what could be."
"Open my mind? Bolormaa and her fucking Princes will be the only ones wanting to open my mind, with a blade."
"And yet the myths were true. The stories long lost, all true. What if such legends among your people are, too?"
Taylor laughed. "I know what you are thinking, and no, Excalibur does not exist."
"You know that like my people knew the Pauri Tao did not exist."
Taylor shook his head, threw back his coffee, and then stood up. He couldn't take it any longer. As he strode off, only Alita rushed to keep up.
"You need some rest," she insisted.
"I'm not this way because I am tired. I am pissed off because I am hearing crazy talk when it's the last thing we need."
She put her arm around his waist and helped him stand a little as they went on.
"Where’re we heading?" She could see he wasn't in the mood to be pushed around.
"Honestly?" he whispered, "I could do with my own bed."
She was sympathetic and glad he had finally suggested it, knowing he would never take the advice of anyone else to do so. He reached his quarters and found them spotless. A new set of armour lay hung beside the bed. It was not his. There was not a scratch on it, let alone the hole where the Morohta Prince skewered him in their personal combat.
He collapsed down onto the bed without even taking his boots off. He didn't want or feel the need to sleep, but his body was exhausted.
"Guess you couldn't save my gear?" he asked, looking over at the fresh armour.
"Yeah, sure, we saved it, but you won't be wearing it again. It has gone back to Earth."
"What for?"
"To be a museum exhibit. It is a highly valued artefact and symbol of an Alliance victory."
"Great," he replied sarcastically, "And if I seem to remember, it wasn't anyone's victory but ours. We went on a mission nobody believed in, not even those who fought with us. And now the President, the Aranui, all hailing it as a great success. Where are those fuckers when you need them?"
She lay down beside him with a smile, which only led him to scorn.
"What?"
"You, you're hilarious."
"How so?"
"You claim to be such a task master, without a care for anything but getting the job done, and yet you're one of the most caring and sentimental people I have ever met. Were their many others like you in your day?"
He smiled and nodded, but there was also sadness in his eyes.
"Plenty, good men and women that we could do with right now."
She could see it was a sore subject she would do well to pass over.
"So, you think Wright taking that ship and crew alive is a mistake?"
"I do."
"Why? You were always one to make the most of captured technology, pioneer new things from it, and get information from those who served them."
"There is a time and a place, and this isn't it. These primitive creatures have nothing useful to share with us. Nothing more than the bodies brought back from your last mission. Best-case scenario, they waste our time and require resources to be kept alive and detained. Worst case, well, you never know until it happens, do you?"
She didn't look convinced, and he saw the expression on her face.
"You don't believe me?"
"I just think you need to place a little more faith in those around you. I mean, you were out for count on our last mission, and we managed okay."
"Okay? Some of our best marines dead, and you call that okay? Watkins dead, too, he was one of the first in this unit. You think that is okay?"
"That's not fair." She sat up and wiped a tear from her cheek.
He sat up slowly and wrapped his hands around her.
"I am sorry."
"No, you are right. It isn't acceptable. No loss of life ever is, and yet how many times have you told me that you cannot win a battle without being willing to pay the toll in lives?"
"I said that? Well, yeah, I think it, but it sounds a little poetic for my tastes."
She finally smiled.
"I get it, I really do, but you know me. I feel as responsible for those losses as you do, and I wasn't even there. I have to live with that, too. There will be many more losses before this is over. Friends, family, no one will escape the reach of this war."
"The President is confident we can fight this away from Earth."
Taylor laughed.
"No one ever wants or plans to fight on home soil, and yet it is frequently the way it goes. We can make every preparation under the sun for this war, but when it comes, it will be fought everywhere you can imagine."
"That's a depressing thought."
Taylor shrugged.
"You don't think so?"
"For me, this is my family. We are in the fight, no matter what. I'll fight to keep civilians safe, and to keep Earth safe, and wherever else the Alliance is. But that isn't what I care for, it isn't why I do what I do."
"Why do you do it? This was never your war. Have you really come to enjoy it, like so many have said you would? Have you become that much of a machine?"
Taylor seemed to partially agree. "Is that such a bad thing? It's what we need."
"But do you really enjoy it?"
He thought about it.
"I enjoy winning. I enjoy seeing what a difference I am making. Do I enjoy the fighting? I dunno, maybe. Maybe if I didn't, I would have gone crazy or be dead by now."
It wasn't the first time his motivations had been questioned, and he frequently did so himself. Maybe it didn't matter anymore. He had a cast iron will to live and a desire to see those around him to keep living, too. He looked over to Alita. She was lost deep in thought.
"What's on your mind?"
She shook her head.
"Just thinking about Bolormaa."
"How so?"
"She is not just coming for us. She is coming for you. You have humiliated her. You have turned this around. You are the one who has caused her so much trouble."
"Yeah," he replied with a smile.
"I am sure she will know your history well enough, or will do before long."
"What of it?"
"You have beaten some of the most formidable warriors in history in personal combat. Don't you think she might pick up on that? I cannot help but feel she will want to make an example of you, to cement her reputation in the history books."
"You've really given this some thought, haven't you?" he asked, still smiling.
"I'm serious," she replied with a deadly stare.
But he brushed it off.
"Maybe she will, maybe she won't, but I'm not going to start worrying about what might be."
"And if it does happen. If Bolormaa does come looking for your head, what will you do then? Fighting one of her offspring nearly killed you, what will she do to you?"
He agreed with her, but wasn't going to wallow on it too much.
"I just can't afford to lose you. The Alliance can't either. You have given us hope, but where will we be if you fall?"
He tried to comfort her.
"Don't you worry; we'll be ready for her."
"How? We are hanging by a thread as it is."
"Hardly. The Alliance is stronger than ever."
"Yes, and if we were to be fighting another Krys or Cholan war, we might be well prepared, but you know this is different. This is as bad as the dark days, the ones you yourself lived through, the days when total annihilation and extinction seemed like a very real possibility. I know the people of the Alliance don't see it yet, but Jones has shown me the history."
Taylor shook his head.
"Bastard."
She looked surprised.
"Why? What is wrong with looking into the past?"
"What's wrong? It's making you think like this. Distracted, worried, confused. That’s no good to anyone."
"Maybe we should be. Maybe it's right to be worried, to question what we do. We just lost Watkins, one of our very finest and best. We almost lost you. Promise me you'll make it through this."
He looked uneasy.
"You know that's one promise I cannot make. If I could promise any one of you that you would make it through, then I would."
"But, I just..."
She was interrupted by an emergency alarm. Taylor shot upright out of bed as if the sudden rush of adrenaline had washed away the pain that had overcome his body. Wright's voice came over the comms.
"This is the Captain speaking. Enemy combatants have boarded this station. All personnel report to your stations. All civilians, remain in a safe location and seal all doors until I inform you otherwise."
He was trying to sound calm, but Taylor could hear both fear and embarrassment in his voice.
Taylor jumped into his suit. It quickly clamped on and sealed around him.
"What are you doing?"
He picked up his rifle from the rack on the wall and chambered a round.
"It's time to go to work."
Chapter 4
"Get back inside and seal the door!" a voice yelled from up ahead.
Taylor went forward quietly but in a determined and confident manner, his rifle held down to avoid friendly targets, but ready to use when the time came. He looked back over his shoulder just briefly to check Alita was still with him. She had no armour and only a pistol to hand, so he made sure she stayed well back, protecting her like he would a VIP.
Screams rang out down the hall. The same voice repeated the command from before, but more frantically. They took the bend to find a single crewman with a carbine ushering people through a door. As the last got through, he began to take aim around the turn of the corridor at a target Taylor could not see. He managed just two shots when return fire struck him in the arm. The carbine was thrown from his hands as he recoiled back.
Taylor sped up to the fallen man and held him, pulling him back as two of the barbaric looking Amitads took the bend. He was unfazed by their presence and fired a burst into one, killing it instantly, but the other came at him with a quick swing from a crude looking sabre. He ducked under the blow, shot out its right kneecap, and then put two in its head. Alita fired another two to be certain, despite the fact it was obviously dead. He could see a bitter hatred in her eyes, one he knew all to well.
The crewman was cradling his arm, and blood trickled out from between his fingers where he was trying to apply pressure. Taylor picked up his carbine and thrust it into his arms, forcing him to take it into his possession, before shoving him through the door where the frightened civilians were hiding.
"Patch him up, and don't open this door for anyone until you hear from the Captain himself that it's clear, you hear?"
They nodded gratefully as he stepped out of the doorway and hit the switch beside it. He waited a few seconds to hear the locks were activated before turning back to Alita.
"I told Wright to blow that ship to hell, why won't people listen?"
"Hey, you aren't always right. I'm sure he'll be happy to hear you say you told him so, if we get through this."
"And how many lives will that cost? This is not an enemy to toy with. You don't take prisoners, and poke and prod these animals."
She nodded in full agreement.
"Then let's make that happen," she added.
Taylor opened a channel directly to Wright.
"What are we dealing with here?"
"We haven't even docked with the enemy vessel yet. We just towed them in for closer inspection. I don't..."
Taylor interupted him.
"We can worry about the reasons later. What is the enemy strength and location?"
"We have three breaches at air locks along the port side. I am sending location information to you now. I have already despatched Marine detachments to those locations. We are tracking them on surveillance, but everywhere they go, they destroy our camera feeds. They aren't as primitive as they look."
Screams and gunfire rang out along the corridor.
"Captain, you need to isolate all sectors with enemy presence and all decks either side. Seal this up now before they spread."
"But you are in that zone, Colonel, as well as hundreds of civilians."
"If they know what's best for them, they will already have found shelter. Seal off these sectors now!"
"Got it..."
Two gun shots rang out behind him, and he saw an enemy fall at Alita's feet before taking a third shot to the back of the head.
"That's it, Colonel. Three decks, three blocks wide. You're sealed in. You've got two Marine squads in there with you. One of mine and one of your own."
"Got it. Keep a track of enemy movement while you can."
"You sure you can handle this?"
"Don't worry about us, worry about this station and that enemy ship. Get rid of it, now!"
"Affirmative. I have ordered our escort craft back."
"Don't wait, destroy it now!"
"Our ships are still too close. Wait...we are getting an energy signal from the enemy craft..."
"Hit them, now!"
"Oh, no..."
The lights went down, and they felt the floor beneath them shake as something impacted with the station.
"That's not good," said Alita.
"Wright? Come in, Wright?"
There was no response.
"Fuck’s sake! Why couldn't he just have blown it out of the sky when he had the chance? Come on, we need to reach a hard line."
Taylor strode onwards with a grunt. He was angry, and not just with the enemy. He went forward with such speed that Alita had to run to keep up. She watched him activate his shield and rush towards two of the enemy while firing on full auto. The first was riddled with bullets, but he reached the second under a hail of gunfire and swung his rifle into the creature’s neck, causing it to be smashed into the bulkhead. He fired a burst into its torso and carried on.
He looked over to see Alita looking at the console they had been trying to reach. Smoke was bellowing from it, and it was completely fried.
"Goddamn it, can we not catch just a little luck?"
The corridors were quiet now. They had passed the mostly empty officers’ quarters and could see a medical station ahead. As they approached, the door slid open. They half expected more of the enemy pile out, but in the doorway stood a familiar shape - Babacan. He was bandaged up and had a spinal repair module still strapped to his back, and yet he carried a rifle in each hand as if he was on the prowl.
They eagerly rushed to his side. Five bodies of the enemy were just inside the room where they had tried to get in. The beds had been overturned, and many of the wounded and medical personnel were huddled behind them with small arms. Most were too badly wounded to fight, and the medical staff looked terrified.
"Nice work, hold this position, and take care of these people," ordered Taylor.
It was clear Babacan wanted to weigh in on more of the action, but he did as asked.
"You got a hard line to the bridge here?" Taylor asked the nearest doctor.
He shook his head. "It went down a few moments ago."
"Fuck!"
"Must have knocked out some of the couplings, what the hell did they hit us with?" Alita asked.
"I don't know, but it's done a number on us, hasn't it? What did I say, don't toy with the enemy!" he yelled as if making a point to all those around them, "Right, we need to make contact with the bridge again and workout what the hell our situation is. Just remember, you take no prisoners. You give no mercy. Shoot to kill!"
Alita reached down and picked up a brutish looking enemy blade to use in her offhand as they rushed on.
"If this is what one ship can do to us..."
"No, this isn't one ship. It's one stupid decision. Our people are still underestimating the enemy. You all seem to think they will adhere to some civilised norms that have become accepted through society. This is war, total war. A war where the enemy will do anything to take you down, at any cost."
He could see she agreed and so wasting his words. They soon reached five bodies. Two were enemy, the other crewmembers cut down fighting the foul creatures.
"How many more of them can there be?"
But she knew he had no more of an idea than she did. A door slid open behind them, and there was a whole squad of the enemy, as if waiting in ambush. Taylor shoved Alita. She launched through the air and tumbled to a halt well out of the way. As he lifted his shield and hunkered down, the gunfire erupted. Dozens of shots hit his shield, and many more struck the wall and open doorway behind him where the walls were sprayed with blood.
He could do nothing, not even get the barrel of his rifle around the rim of his shield. The enemy were hitting him with everything they had and shots skimmed by. Alita was back on her feet and holding her ground. She looked fraught as she saw the beating he was taking, but not a single shot penetrated his shield.
The gunfire finally died down. The enemy had either run low on ammunition or realised the folly of continuing. Five rushed at him, the rest not far behind. He quickly thrust out his rifle and gunned down one with a burst and then turned it on another. By the time the second one had fallen, the third was on top of him. He ducked down and thrust up with his shield, driving it up and under the enemy’s weapons. The barrel of his rifle connected with its stomach, and he immediately squeezed the trigger. A burst of shots tore through its body and struck another behind it. He spun around and smashed one with the rim of his shield before firing a burst into another, but as he came around, one of them struck his rifle, and it was torn from his grasp.
Mitch kept moving, knowing he would be a dead man if he stayed put for even a moment. He stamped down on the kneecap of one of them. As it fell, he took its head in his arm and snapped its neck. A blade was coming right for his head as the enemy fell from his grasp. He stepped aside so that the heavy blade clashed with the deck beside him. He punched his attacker square in the face, giving him just enough of an opening to draw out his Assegai.
He thrust it into the creature’s neck before it could recover. But as he did, a blade was coming right for him. Wielded in two hands, and with such a swing, it could crush a man. He lifted his shield just in time for the blade to impact across its surface and save him. But the power of the blow knocked him several feet to the side, and he tumbled into another one. He was face-to-face with the creature, and it was hissing and spitting at him. He quickly head butted the beast so that the rim of his helmet connected with its nose.
As the enemy soldier tumbled backwards, he kicked it so that it was driven back against a bulkhead. Its back almost snapped as it arched over. He leapt forward and thrust the blade into the centre of its chest. He heard a cry that could only have come from Alita. It almost broke his heart. His head snapped around to find the source of the sound. She was down on one knee, and there was a deep laceration her right arm. She had dropped her pistol, but she defiantly took the enemy blade in two hands and rushed forward at her attacker. She cut down against him with all her strength. It parried the first, but she kept wailing down on it until the blade cut into it head, and it was slain.
But it wasn't her only problem. Another two went at her, but there were many more between Taylor and her. He powered down his shield and drew his pistol into his left hand so he could put out as much damage as possible, at the cost of protecting himself. He fired two shots into the nearest one's head, as he heard Alita scream a manic war cry as she weighed in against her attackers. This only attracted their attention, and more turned to face her, like flies to a honey pot.
Taylor drove his Assegai deep into the back of another, giving him line of sight to Alita's attackers. One had a jagged blade lifted high above its head about to smash down on her, a strike she would have no chance of stopping. He fired two shots into its arm. It collapsed down, and he followed with another shot to its head. He took aim at the next but was tackled with such force he was smashed back against the bulkhead, just as he had done to one of the enemy.
He was pinned by his attacker, who was larger in build than any of the others. It held Taylor's Assegai hand firm while smashing its other against a protruding hull support. The third impact was too much, and Taylor felt his grip falter. As his pistol fell from his hands, he watched Alita still flailing around in a wild attempt to hold off the enemy. She was fighting with a determination and fanaticism Taylor had never seen in her before. She had a will to live, and that spurred him on to find more strength deep down.
He smashed his elbow into the creature’s face three times. As each impact landed, he felt the grip on him weaken. It was just enough to reach the combat blade on his chest. He drew it out and thrust it into the side of the beast's head through its ear. The creature screamed in agony, but Taylor was not done yet. He drew out a grenade and primed it, stuffing it through the collar of its clothing. He spun the beast around and booted it back the way it came.
The huge Amitad warrior landed on two others and flattened them. A second later the charge blew, and the creature was lifted half a metre off the ground by the blast, killing it and both it had fallen on. He turned is attention on Alita's attackers, now with nothing more in his hands but his trusted Assegai. He parried off with one of the enemy’s blade and spun around its back, thrusting down into its collar without breaking stride.
Alita thrust her captured blade deep into one. The blade almost ran up to the hilt and became stuck, just as Taylor stabbed another through the back. Alita's attacker grabbed hold of her with one hand to stop her fleeing and raised its blade high into the air to bring down upon her head. It began to descend, and she closed her eyes, knowing there was nothing left she could do. But at the last moment she heard the clang of steel on steel.
She opened her eyes. Taylor had stopped the blade dead with one he had taken from them. With the blades locked, he thrust his Assegai into the enemy’s chest and let go so that he could take up the captured blade in two hands. He lifted it up and screamed out a deafening battle cry, smashing the blade down with all his strength. The blade cut into the soldier’s collar and drove half a metre down into its body. Its torso split apart. He put his foot on the body and levered the blade out, withdrawing his Assegai at the same time before it collapsed dead.
He felt Alita clinging to his leg and looked down. She was crying. Her arm was bleeding profusely. Another smaller cut had opened up her left cheek and a third on her right shoulder blade. He reached down and helped her up, and noticed a fourth deep cut on her left thigh.
"On your feet, Marine," he said.
She gritted her teeth and took his help. She was hurt and in a bad way, but still very much alive. More than a dozen enemy lay dead. He leaned her up against the sidewall while he collected their weapons. He passed her pistol back to her and picked up his own, reloading it after sheathing his Assegai.
"Is it over?" she asked.
"We can only hope."
He put her arm over his shoulder and supported much of her weight as they went onwards, each with one hand free with a pistol in hand. Taylor still held onto the captured enemy blade, holding it in the hand he was carrying her with. They could only hope they didn't have to face any more. He couldn't easily protect her and fight at the same time, and they both knew it.
Gunfire raged in the distance. Neither wanted to go on, but they knew they must. They took a turn and found a line of bodies, all enemy. At the end of the dead stood a man with rifle and shield in hand. They couldn't believe their luck, and both sighed in relief. It was Jones and four of their people.
"Medic!" Jones yelled.
A team of marines from the starbase’s own crews rushed around the bend with two corpsmen. Jones led the way and helped Alita down to the ground.
"What are you doing out here alone?"
"Wasn't by choice," added Taylor.
"Looks like you have been through hell. How many of these things did you fight?"
"Enough," he replied, turning his attention to Alita.
The medics were already patching up her wounds to stem the flow of blood, but she looked weak, as if the adrenaline had been all that was keeping her up. But knowing she was now in good hands, he turned his attention to the larger matter at hand.
"What is our status?"
Jones shook his head.
"It's bad."
"How bad?"
"That ship was rigged to blow. Hit us pretty hard, and in the chaos we got boarded. This wasn't an accident."
"No shit!"
"We couldn't have known."
Taylor shook his head. "Of course we could have known. Always assume the enemy means you harm. Always assume they can hurt you while they still draw breath. I told that son of a bitch to blow them to hell. If he had just listened, we wouldn't be in this mess. We've lost a lot of good people because of his curiosity."
The Corpsmen couldn't believe what they were hearing and turned to look up at him in disbelief.
"What the fuck are you looking at? Get back to work!"
Jones took his arm and led him a few steps away, leaning in close to whisper in his ear.
"Don't you think Wright has suffered enough here? We all make mistakes, and I am sure he will learn some valuable lessons from this."
"Valuable lessons?"
He was still furious.
"Tell me you haven't ever gotten people killed that you needn’t have?"
"That isn't fair."
"No, it isn't. But you get my drift, don't you?"
Taylor grunted in approval, although he wasn't particularly happy about it.
"We'll finish up here. You go with her."
He wanted to do so, but he knew he couldn't.
"Not until the job is done."
The two corpsmen lifted her on a stretcher. She reached out with one hand to touch him as they went past, and the station’s Marine detachment escorted them.
"You take care of her, you hear?"
He knew he didn't need to say it, but he hated having to leave her. He looked back to Jones and his team.
"These assholes are really starting to piss me off. Let's end this."
He signalled for Jones to lead the way on the sweep they had been carrying out. They soon found two of the enemy and riddled them with holes.
"This is it, just have to circle back around to the blast doors ahead, and we're clear."
Taylor picked up his pace and rushed past Jones. He was eager to finish the enemy, and even more eager to draw more blood before the battle was over. There were three backed up against the blast doors, trapped. Jones opened fire with his pistol and shot the first before they had even noticed their presence. The second turned and was hit by two more shots. The third almost got his weapon around when Taylor had closed the distance and cut down across with a heavy cut that decapitated the creature. The swing was so powerful the blade embedded in the outer wall of the blast doors.
The head dropped and bounced on the deck, landing before Jones. They watched the body drop, and blood spewed out as the body twitched. It was a sickening sight, but Taylor was more interested in the blade. The impact had sent a shudder through his arm and seemed to have cut into steel without taking any damage. He took hold of the grip with both hands and tried to lever it out, but it was stuck firmly in the frame. He put a foot against the door and put all his strength in until finally it broke free, and he was catapulted back a few paces.
He stood admiring the blade. The edge was perfect, as if made of some diamond like material. He had already used it to parry and strike many times, and yet it looked like new. Its design was crude, almost as if made stylistically, for its construction was perfectly made by an artisan.
"I guess they aren't as crude as they look, then?" Jones asked.
The huge blast doors creaked and began to prise apart. Captain Wright stood waiting on the other side with a dozen marines escorting him. Taylor wanted to give him a piece of his mind, but he thought back to Jones' words, and remembered the mistakes he had made. Wright wasn't the first one to get people killed unnecessarily, and he could see the sorrow in his eyes.
He’s punishing himself. There’s no need to pour salt onto the wound.
He looked horrified at the bloody mess Taylor was in.
Mitch hadn't even noticed, but he looked down. He was covered in blood, but none of it was his. It was a mix of the enemy and Alita's, both of which merged into the same colour. Not even he was used to seeing so much red blood. He had become so used to fighting creatures that were so removed from humanity, he could slay them without a second thought. But now he looked like a butcher with his cleaver still in hand.
"Is it over?"
"Ye...ye...yes, Colonel. All sectors are secure. We're still trying to get in and recover the wounded."
"You won't find many," he replied solemnly.
Wright at first thought he was trying to be an ass, but he could see Taylor's tone was something very different. There was sadness in his voice, and that really scared Wright, for he was starting to imagine how bad things really were.
"Do you know how the enemy got aboard yet?"
Wright shook his head.
"I have teams out there making sure there is no longer any threat to this station. Once I am completely satisfied, only then will we get to the bottom of it."
"Best guess?" Jones asked, striding up beside them.
"The blast took out a lot of our sensors and security cameras. They could have blasted in through air locks or even the hull in that time. It's hard to tell what damage was done by the blast and what they did after it."
They fell silent. Several more marines and medical orderlies rushed past. Wright studied the body of the decapitated enemy at Taylor's feet.
"I don't understand."
"Understand what?" asked Jones.
"Why they even tried. They could never have succeeded in taking or destroying this station. So why? They threw their lives away for no reason."
Jones agreed, but Taylor didn't share their assessment.
"Not without reason," he replied firmly, "They hit us when we least expected it. Showed you that you are not untouchable."
He pointed to the marines with Wright.
"And look at them, scared, and they should be. You think they came here to win, to take or destroy this station. I don't believe they had any such grand ideas. I am not sure they even knew where they would be jumping."
"So they just got thrown in front of our guns?"
Taylor nodded.
"Look at us. It's chaos, exactly what the Morohta need. But the question you have to ask yourself, Captain, is not how hard were we hit, but where else was hit?"
Wright couldn't believe what he was hearing.
"You think this is not an isolated incident?"
Taylor shook his head.
"My god, come on, follow me."
They arrived at the bridge and found repairs already underway. Two of the crew were being given treatment at their stations for superficial wounds.
"We need intel, pronto. You can bet your ass this isn't an isolated incident."
"What should we do?"
The Captain had no shame in looking to Taylor for some advice. But Taylor looked distracted. It was as if he was shocked and stunned. He was thinking of Alita, that much seemed clear.
"Despatch a fleet to Earth. Three ships. Enough that they can defend themselves if need be, without weakening our position here. We need to know what the hell is going on."
"I'll get on it, and to the bottom of what happened here, Colonel. We can take it from here. Go to her."
Taylor hadn't even noticed his last comment. But he soon snapped out of it as he noticed the silence that followed.
"Go," Wright repeated.
He didn't need any more prompting. He rushed off the bridge. Jones was waiting for him. He ran past without a word, and that prompted his friend to follow.
"Get our people ready! I want everyone on duty and on full alert."
"Ready for what?"
"Anything."
Jones slowed to a halt as Taylor strode on ahead. He finally reached the medical bay where he knew she would be. Screams rang out as a wounded woman was carried inside, but as he passed through the door, it was just as he expected. There were only a handful of wounded.
There must be bodies stacked high in the morgue. It’s an awful thought, and yet I doubt I’d know a single name of those resting in peace.
"Alita Hariz, where is she?" he demanded.
He didn't wait for a response and stomped through the hallway, looking through each of the cubicle windows. He found her without any help. She was inside a treatment capsule, with just her head visible. She looked calm and comfortable. He stepped inside and could see her smile as she spotted him. He was just glad to see she was still breathing.
"How are you doing?" he asked.
"I'm good. You know they pump you full of enough drugs, and you can't feel anything at all."
He looked down to a screen on the device that showed the work being done. She was suspended in the middle of the capsule that held her horizontal at bed height. Her injuries were being worked on simultaneously. Muscle strands and skin being repaired. He didn't understand how it worked, but he was impressed nonetheless.
"She lost a lot of blood, but we'll have her back on her feet in no time. A lucky escape, she couldn't afford to have lost much more."
A doctor stood in the doorway.
"Lucky? We aren't in the business of luck."
The doctor shrugged. "However you like it," he said and walked away.
The device finished, and lights flashed as final checks were carried out.
"See? Almost done."
"He watched the screen. She was being wrapped in some form of compression suit from ankle to neck. Finally, the machine finished and prised open. To him it looked more like a tanning booth than anything else. Yet she sat up, reaching out to take his hand to help her stand up. She looked a little sore and stiff, but there she stood, alive and well.
"Good as new," she said, still smiling.
Taylor shook his head.
"What?"
"You. No armour, no gear, and yet you went at them like a raging beast."
She quivered a little, and a tear dropped down her face.
"I just wanted to live."
He could tell she really meant it. Her survival instinct was strong, but not for the reason he thought.
"I just wanted another day with you," she added.
It almost brought him to tears, a feeling he had rarely ever known. He wiped the tear from her face and that brought her smile back.
"You've got many more yet. But you can bet your ass we are going to be needed right about now, and on top form. Are you up to the task?"
"Always." She stepped away and reached for the clean uniform that had been set beside her bed.
He could see she wasn't really ready, and she tried to hide her pain and stiffness as she pulled the clothes on. But he would rather have her by his side where he could protect her, than risk leaving her in the hands of others.
"Lead the way and I will follow," she said, finally strapping her sidearm on and gesturing for him to go onwards.
He was glad to see her enthusiasm. But as they stepped out of the medical facility, the extent of their situation weighed on him. The uncertainty was even worse.
"What now?"
"We wait and hope for the best. We've despatched ships to Earth."
"What are you expecting?"
He shrugged. "Let's not speculate, but wait and see."
It was a long wait, and there was little to do with their time but assemble and clean their equipment in preparation for their next task. Taylor sat cleaning the blade he had claimed from the enemy. It was in part a trophy, but it also intrigued him. The blade was lightly curved and tapered out to a broader tip. There was no crossguard of any kind, just a grip that looked like bone or horn, long enough to be wielded in one or two hands. As he looked closer, he could see an intricate weave and pattern in the metal.
"Beautiful, isn't it?" Alita asked; as she studied her own that was much the same.
"Simple, but perfect," he added.
Compared to their powered Assegai it seemed primitive, but the steel was of such a construction or quality they had not seen before. It only now dawned on him just how lucky an escape they had had. The weak Amitad guns had made him believe their blades would be no better, but now he understood he was almost as vulnerable as Alita had been.
"Such primitive people, and yet look at what they produce," said Alita.
"Not so primitive as you might think."
They both looked up. Jones was observing them, and they waited for him to continue.
"You know the Romans looked down on the Celts as primitive barbarians, but even they could marvel at the quality of their blades."
Taylor smiled.
"What?"
"Nothing, you just sound like the Jones I used to know. Could always rely on him for these useless little bits of info from a never-ending wealth of history books he would read."
Chapter 5
"Colonel Taylor to the bridge."
It was the call he had been dreading. He wanted to know where they stood, but the news would almost certainly be bad. He jumped out of his chair and headed to the bridge with Jones and Alita at his back. He stepped aboard to find a dire tone. Things were worse than bad and everyone knew it.
“Give it to me straight,” he said abruptly to the Captain.
“I am sorry to say the attack on this station, and the one on the Navarin, were not isolated incidents.
“Well, how many more attacks have their been?” Jones asked impatiently.
Wright seemed uncomfortable, and his lip quivered.
“Well, come on, man, spit it out!”
“All over, Colonel. Hundreds of sightings have been recorded.”
“Where?”
“Planets, stations, transport convoys. There are new encounters every few minutes. But they are crazy.”
“How so?” Jones asked.
Taylor already knew it was exactly as they had both feared.
“We’ve got reports of ships crashing on impact, jumping half into the surface of moons. One even jumped right into a Cholan battlecruiser. It’s like they are just randomly being thrown out there without any rhyme nor reason.”
“Oh, there is a reason to it.”
Everyone waited intently for Taylor to explain.
“If you have no regard for the lives of those you command, you can merely throw them in enough numbers in the rough direction of the enemy.”
“But the losses, they must be massive?”
“Almost certainly, Captain. But if they have so many, then they can afford to waste them. Every single death on our side is a tragedy. We cannot afford to lose people nor ships.”
“You think anyone would be as callous and selfish as to rule that way?”
Taylor nodded. He knew very well. He had experienced it first hand. Jones went on with another reference to their history.
“Just like the Romans. Lose as many mercenaries in a battle as you like, but spill no Roman blood and win that battle, and it is a total victory; that is the value these creatures must have to their masters.”
It was a dreadful notion. Not just that they could well be used the same way, but that the enemy was a cold and calculating one that could not been beaten into submission.
“You all need to get this through your heads right now!” Taylor said firmly, seeing the fear on their faces, “You cannot scare this enemy. You cannot break them, nor make them run from you. They will come at you, and keep coming at you until you are dead. So it’s really quite simple. You lie down and die because there is nowhere to run, or you fight with everything you have. Fight until they have nothing left to throw at us.”
“And if this is just a numbers game, and they have more?” Wright asked.
“Bullshit. You think every battle, every war, has been won with the side with the most numbers. Everyone likes an underdog, and we’re it. And it ain’t half bad. The underdog knows he has a mountain to climb, and an opponent who has an awfully long way to fall.”
His words had helped a bit, but they would only carry the morale so far, and he couldn’t stay with them forever.
“What do we do now?”
“Did you receive no orders through the vessels that were sent out? Nothing from the President even?”
Wright shook his head.
“Everything is in chaos. No one even knows where the President is, but I have no doubt he is safe.”
“I need to speak with you privately, Captain.”
Wright handed command over to his number two and led them to his quarters. He sat down at his desk, sighing as the three stepped in beside one another. They were an intimidating sight, but Wright’s attention turned to a picture on his desk. Taylor could just make it out, a family shot. The Captain slowly looked up at the three of them.
“So what do we do?”
“You have no standing orders, no plan for this?”
He shook his head.
“When I took this command, I was told we would not see the enemy for some time. My job was to administer this station and service the fleet. To make the necessary improvements to defensive measures where I could. I have done precisely that. This wasn’t supposed to happen. We did not expect to make contact with any enemy for some time.”
“Yeah, well, the enemy have a tendency to do their own thing. They don’t like to follow your plans any more than we do theirs. That is war,” stated Taylor.
“For now I am going to do what I was ordered. What I was sent here to do. We have learnt some valuable lessons, and I am eager to implement a number of changes that will ensure we do not suffer casualties when and if this happens again.”
Taylor laughed for a moment, but his expression soon became stern.
“If you think you can win a war without taking losses, you are in for a shock.”
“What do you want from me, Colonel? Tell me.”
“I need to get out there. We need to get out there. My team and I, and the fleet of warships you have at your disposal.”
“They will remain in position to protect this station as they were ordered.
“But you don’t need us. We’ll go. You can manage just fine without us.”
“And lose the Navarin? She’s barely refitted and back in action. You want me to give up one of our best ships of the line for some…what? Hunting trip?”
Taylor could see he wasn’t getting anywhere. He desperately tried to think of something.
We need to get in the fight.
“Give me the Guam.”
Wright coughed at the thought of it and had to reach forward for a glass of water to clear his throat.
“The Guam? She is a wreck. Patched up and suitable as a support vessel yes, but nothing compared to the Navarin.”
“Then you can afford to lose her, can’t you?”
He said nothing, but Taylor advanced and put his hands down, leaning forward over the desk in an intimidating fashion. It made the Captain uncomfortable.
“Look, Captain. I am going. I need a ship to take me, and I am sure the Guam will be more than happy to have us. I am going either way. So you can authorise it, or you can refuse and look like a total ass when we go anyway.”
The Captain looked past him to Jones and Alita as if expecting some support from them, but he soon realised Taylor was not bluffing.
“Okay…okay. Take the Guam. But please get a message out from Earth. The status of the Alliance, the whereabouts of the President, and our orders.”
“We’ll do what we can, but you’re gonna have to buck up and do some of the work yourselves. You have many means of communication, use them.”
With that, he up and left.
“Did you really have to grill him so hard?” Alita asked, as the door shut behind them.
“He’s a good officer, but he wasn’t ready for this command.”
“Do you think he can rise to the task?”
“We’ll soon find out. I reckon he’ll find his balls soon enough.”
* * *
The door of their craft lowered, and Taylor was glad to see the welcoming face of Captain Song as she smiled upon making eye contact. Welding torches flashed either side of them as crews continued to carry out maintenance. There was no ceremony to welcome them aboard, only the Captain herself.
"Welcome home," she said as he approached.
It was a nice feeling. Taylor looked around at the well used and battle worn vessel. It was certainly more home to him than anywhere else felt anymore. He reached forward and shook Song's hand.
"Glad to have you back, but I thought a man with your reputation could get his hands on one of the flag ships of the fleet by now."
"Yeah, you'd think so, but the fact is nobody knows what the fuck is going on. Wright is staying put. He's been tasked with protecting that station, and he’s already had a nasty taste of things to come. He is just holding on to what he's got."
"And us? What are we to do?"
Taylor smiled.
"You didn't think we were going to lay about doing nothing, did you, Captain?"
"Not for a minute, Sir."
"Then fire up those engines. It's time to go hunting."
"What is our destination?"
"Anywhere that the enemy is."
"Yes, Sir," she replied confidently.
Taylor could see the crew were just glad to be doing something. They were already battle hardened from the many missions they had taken part in with Taylor. Every one of them was familiar with his commitment to fight on the frontline, and confident he would look after them just the same as he would his own Immortals.
"Initiate jump to Gateway 12."
She looked at Taylor to explain.
"From there we'll get reports from all over. It's the go-to hub for emergency frequencies."
Taylor nodded in appreciation, for he had no idea.
"Prepare to jump...jump."
Their stomachs turned as they always did, but a few seconds later they appeared in a nebula like portal. He glanced at Jones, and he seemed as much in the dark as he was.
For once it’s nice to know I’m not the only one.
"No contacts."
The Captain looked surprised.
"What were you expecting to find?"
"Something, Colonel. Some fleet or ships gathering on their way to assist where they are needed."
"Are you sure you have the right coordinates?"
"Positive."
There was silence as everyone waited for news from the navigation teams.
"I'm picking up a distress beacon."
Taylor was relieved they had finally made contact of some sort.
"Wait...more than one. I've got five, no..."
Oh, shit!
He saw the look of fear on Jones' face, but the not knowing and uncertainty of their situation made it worse.
"Captain, we have seventeen distress beacons."
Song turned to Taylor for answers.
"Where do we go? Which one do we help? There should be fleets of vessels here to respond to these, but there is only us."
Taylor sighed.
"Whom do we assist?" she asked again.
They all knew how tough a call it was. They were the blunt instruments that could turn the tide at one location, but condemn all the others to make it on their own.
"Do we prioritise military targets, civilian? What?" Song asked.
Taylor shook his head.
"Identify the largest enemy force, because that's where we are going."
They all knew how calculating a decision that was. It was a tough call, but nobody questioned it. Song nodded for her navigation team to do as Taylor had asked, and it wasn't long before one of them came back with a hurried answer.
"Sir, the shipyards on Ulsan are reporting heavy enemy presence in orbit and on the surface of the planet."
"Ulsan?" Taylor asked.
"Previously known as Gliese 581 d, I believe."
"Is that supposed to mean something to me, Jones?"
He smiled. He had forgotten how simplistic and lacking Taylor's knowledge of their existence really was.
"Ulsan is home to the largest shipyards in the Alliance. In fact, there is little else there. It is an industrial world. Bleak, barren, and absolutely essential," added Song.
"Who operates it?"
"Mostly government assets crewed by a mix of Human and Krys workers."
The communications officer, Osborne butted in before they could continue.
"Sir, one of the distress beacons."
"What of it?"
"...Civilians, fifteen thousand souls aboard the transport Liberation."
All eyes turned to Taylor. It took him just a few seconds to respond.
"Carry on."
Nichols, the XO, couldn't believe his ears. He had been silent until now.
"Colonel, we have a responsibility to protect those whose cannot protect themselves."
Taylor understood Nichols was not being confrontational as he had been in the past. It was a sentiment shared throughout all around them. Jones' face had turned to stone. He knew the dilemma that Taylor faced, and exactly how he was going to handle it. Taylor was aware he had to explain himself, as nobody was moving to enact the orders he had already issued.
"Don't think I like this any more than the rest of you. But you tell me Ulsan is vital to ship building, and that means it is vital to the war effort. If we do not protect those assets, then how many more will die as a result of having fewer ships in the sky? This is a numbers game. More ships, better chance we have. More fighting men and women, better chance we have. Now, Captain, plot a course to Ulsan, and let's do our jobs."
Song agreed and began relaying the orders. No one questioned Taylor anymore, but it sickened them all. Jones leaned in close beside him as they watched and waited to arrive at Ulsan.
"That is going to come back and bite us in the arse someday."
"Yep, and I am not the one that's going to take the shit for that. If I had been given a fleet like we needed, then this wouldn't be a problem. As it stands, we have one ship to use, and we are going to put it to full effect."
"Send a message back to Wright. Tell him what is happening here."
"If he knew how bad things were, he'd be even less likely to send a single ship away from his precious station. No, we are on our own for now. Get our people ready. All shit is about to hit the fan."
The engines began to spool up. It was an increasingly high-pitched whirling sound that caused vibrations through the entire hull. They jumped, a light flashed ahead, and then they appeared before the vast world of Ulsan. Far larger than Earth, its surface was covered in industrial cities and vast ships under construction. Their attention was soon turned to an explosive flash.
Volleys of fire from several vessels were blowing one of the planetary defence barges apart. Another already lay in ruins, with escape pods being jettisoned several dozen at a time. Two intercept vessels were engaged with the enemy, but they were already being overrun.
“We’ve got seven enemy vessels still active,” said Nichols.
Song looked hesitant. The odds were not in their favour.
“Launch fighters and drones. I want a firing solution on the nearest two vessels. Take us forward.”
“You want to close with them?” Nichols queried the Captain.
“Just do it!” she bellowed confidently.
Their guns soon opened fire and quickly soared towards the enemy.
“What is she doing?” Jones asked.
Taylor smiled.
“She’s taking us right into the middle, so we can bring all our batteries to bear and engage them in boarding actions.”
“What? With one ship?”
“This isn’t any ship!” Song answered.
Jones was silenced.
“The Guam is one of the greatest warships ever to sail, and she has many years left in her yet.
Taylor appreciated her confidence and willpower, for he thought exactly the same.
“Seven warships? Most of which we will have to deal with ourselves? I think you are getting a bit ahead of yourself,” said Nichols, “Colonel, I have learnt to appreciate that you are more of an officer and fighter than I ever gave you credit, but you cannot pluck victory from disaster without the resources to get the job done.”
“Well, we’ll see about that. Captain, how many of these ships can you take on at range?”
“Three, maybe.”
“Then we’ll handle the rest.”
“We cannot spare the Marines. If we are boarded, we will need to repel borders or all will be lost.”
“You can keep your Marines. I have every faith that Capek will look after you.”
“You have four platoons,” stated Nichols in amazement.
“Yeah, and sometimes it isn’t always about the numbers.”
Nichols was shaking his head, but Taylor was glad to see that Jones was with him.
“God isn’t on the side of the big battalions,” Jones confirmed with a slight smile on his face.
The quote was lost on Nichols. Taylor couldn’t remember the rest of it, but he remembered its meaning. It was something Charlie had said many times. It warmed his heart to hear it from the young Captain.
“Let’s go,” he ordered and rushed off the bridge towards the docking bays.
“So we’re really going to do it, four platoons to take on four respectably sized warships?”
“Nice to have a challenge, don’t you think?”
Jones shook his head, knowing Taylor wasn’t joking.
"Can you handle it from here?" Taylor called back to Song.
She nodded confidently, though they could all see the fear in her eyes.
"Remember what we are fighting for. All of you! I'll see you on the other side."
He left at a jogging pace. It wasn't long before they felt enemy gunfire rocking the ship, but they were soon at the boats. He nodded to Jones as he split off to one of the other craft. He and Alita boarded another. She could rightfully command her own platoon now, but he was more than happy for her to remain his personal pilot.
"I don't know why some doubt you will go through with these crazy plans," she said, slipping into the pilot’s seat.
"Why's that?"
"Because you're crazy enough to do it every time."
He smiled as the loading ramp sealed shut and the engines powered up. The ship was rocked again by two heavy shots in quick succession, but the hull held firm. The docking bays rose before them, and they were met by the flashes of gunfire being exchanged. They were almost inline to come alongside the enemy craft now. Alita took a deep breath, knowing they were about to take a leap into the fire.
"Do it," stated Taylor.
She reached for the power, and in one swift burst of acceleration they were out of the doors. She descended below the hull of the enemy ship to stay out of the Guam's firing solution, putting down all the power she had to go on past it and towards the next ship.
"Think the Guam can handle that much?"
"Damn right I do, Alita. She's seen us through far worse."
She ducked and weaved the bulbous and weighty craft. It was about as agile as a brick, and yet somehow she managed to avoid all but a few shots that were shrugged off by the heavy armour.
"Making a pretty big assumption about these ships, aren't you?"
They'd reached the halfway point.
He shrugged.
"Best we can do. They look like the Amitad vessels we have already encountered. No reason to think they are anything else. We know we can take them."
"And if there is something else on board? Something far nastier?"
"I guess we'll deal with that when we come to it, just like we always do."
"I don't know where you find your confidence."
She didn't doubt him, and he could tell she really meant it.
"Sometimes when there is no other way, then being confident is all you can be."
"I don't believe that. Not when I have seen other good men and women collapse and crawl into a hole and weep. No, I can’t believe it."
He shrugged again. He had no more answers. He looked around at the team he had with him. He nodded towards Babacan, glad to have him back, despite the fact he was not one hundred percent, same as Alita.
"When those bastards hit us, they do so with immense speed, in an attempt to overwhelm our ships and our stations. It's time we gave them a taste of their own material!" he yelled.
A few grunted in approval, but they were too busy getting into the zone ready for combat to say anything more.
"We aren't going in to take prisoners, nor take the ship. We don't have the firepower to take it on at range. So we get on board and raise hell. We do whatever we have to, to destroy that ship and all aboard, and then get out. Not for our safety, but for all those who are depending on us. This ship is just the beginning."
He turned back to Alita and her screens to see they were making their final approach. The enemy vessel was vast in comparison to their assault craft, and yet that did not seem to bother Taylor. She imagined he had become used to such things, but the truth was he had just learnt to hide his fears from those he led. Their craft was rocked by a burst of gunfire from the enemy ship, but it was not enough to stop them. They swooped in and came to an abrupt halt, smashing into the hull and bouncing slightly. Alita activated the clamps, and they were locked firmly in place on the ship's lower hull. She made to get up and join them, but Taylor held her down in her seat.
"I need you to stay here."
"Why? I can fight."
"I know you can, but I need to know we have someone here ready to get us the hell out of this piece of junk when the time comes."
She begrudgingly agreed, as he stood up ready to begin their mission.
"Prepare to breach!"
The floor of the craft had slid open and charges placed directly onto the enemy ship. A few seconds later they blew, and two of his platoon leapt through without hesitation. He was the fifth man to the breach and looked back briefly for a split second to make eye contact with Alita. He didn't need to say a word. That moment meant more than if they’d had a chance to speak.
Lights flashed and two shots hit the bulkhead beside him as Taylor stepped aboard the enemy ship. Automatic gunfire was raging on both sides, but he was glad to see his people hadn't ground to a halt. They were moving ahead with shields held before them in an implacable advance. He powered up his own shield and stepped out onto their left flank to join in the slaughter. Three enemy bodies lay ahead, but many more were rushing at them in a manic charge. They fired wildly as they sprinted towards Taylor's platoon, and were gunned down almost as quickly.
Dozens of rounds were thrown at them in a frantic attempt to stop Taylor and his people. For a moment the weight of it brought the front rank to a halt from a new wave of Amitad savages that had rushed to join the battle.
"Keep moving!"
He desperately wanted to know how the battle was unfolding, but he had to keep to the task at hand. He was firing bursts when he reached the front of the line and led the way. He dropped another two of the enemy when his magazine ran dry. He lowered it, slammed in another, keeping up the assault.
"There’s so many of them!" Antos cried out in amazement.
"Clear the way!" Babacan yelled.
They stepped aside. He lifted his Hydra and immediately opened fire. The room lit up even brighter than before as hundreds of shots were hurled at the enemy. The rest of them watched for a few brief seconds before joining in with the slaughter. It wasn't satisfying, not since they had fought the Morohta themselves. These barbaric creatures seemed like nothing more than mindless drones thrown at them with no care or tactics at all. A hindrance that had to be dealt with before the real war began, and yet for all their weaknesses they were causing plenty of damage to the Alliance.
"Mitch, we've got a problem!" Alita called over the comms.
He ducked back two ranks so that he could listen better as the battle raged on.
"What is it?"
"The ship you are on. It hasn't stopped to engage the Guam."
"Where are they taking us?"
"To Ulsan, at full speed."
Taylor frowned as he tried to understand their intentions.
"What do you think their plan is?" he finally asked.
"I...I don't know."
"You think they are crazy enough to put us nose first into the ground?"
She’d clearly thought it but didn't want to say it, hoping it was not true.
"They seem to have no fear of death. To kill a platoon of our best, would it not be worth it?"
They're crazy enough to do it.
"I might be able...argh!" she screamed, and the line went dead.
Taylor couldn't believe what he was hearing. He rushed to the back of the line and to the access point where they had breached. An inner door that was not previously closed sealed it.
"Alita? Alita come in!"
There was a long silence before she finally came through.
"I'm all right!"
He breathed a sigh of relief.
"Can we blow this hulk and get the hell out of here?"
"I got hit pretty hard. Landing gear and clamps are down. I can't dock with you now."
It was dawning on Taylor how dire their situation had become in such a short space of time.
"Can you slow us down?"
"How? I have a fraction of the power of that ship. You'll have to get to the bridge and sort this yourself."
"What if we blow the engines?"
"I...I,"
"Just tell me!"
"If you cut them before we get too close to the atmosphere, maybe, if I can get a little extra help."
"Then do it. We'll try and take the bridge and engines."
"I still don't think..."
"Don't worry. Stay calm, and we'll get through this. Contact Song and see if you can get some help. We may need it yet, Taylor out."
The gunfire had almost completely died down. The last few shots rang out as he reached the front of their platoon.
"Listen up! Time is not on our side. We're on course to crash on that planet at a speed none of us can hope to survive, but we aren't out of the game just yet. Sergeant Fry?"
"Yes, Sir," he quickly replied.
"Take two squads. Your job is to reach the engine bays, and be ready to blow them if you do not hear that the rest of us have taken the bridge."
"Yes, Sir."
"That's it. Let's get moving!"
They all knew what they had to do, despite the few words he had shared with them.
"I don't want to die on a stinking industrial planet like Ulsan," Antos said, keeping pace with Taylor.
"I'd rather not die anywhere, so let's make all our dreams come true," replied Taylor with a slight grin.
Antos couldn't believe he could stay so calm in the face of death, but he was glad to follow such a man.
"Whatever you do, don't stop. We haven't got a second to waste!"
They took a bend and came to a metal stairway ahead. Taylor rushed at it without any hesitation. He rushed up it three steps at a time. When he reached the top, he opened fire on the welcome party he found there. A dozen shots impacted on the surface of his shield as he closed with a party of the enemy hunkered down behind a hastily built barrier. It wasn't like them to fight in such defensive measures, but he understood precisely why they were doing it. Every second they could be delayed would increase the chance of killing him and his platoon. It was a race to survive that he had not foreseen. He was so used to the enemy standing their ground that this plan had rocked him.
Taylor held down the trigger as he sprinted at the defensive line. He hit two in the head as dozens more rounds struck all round them. As the magazine ran dry, he let the rifle drop down by his side. He didn't have time to reload. He snatched his pistol from its holster and kept firing, but that too ran empty when he reached the defences. He took a running jump, and the shots continued to bounce from his shield. As he flew through the air, he holstered his pistol and drew his Assegai as he descended on the first of the enemy. The warrior collapsed under his weight, and he drove the Assegai deep so that it pinned the creature to the floor.
A burst of fire struck him, and he felt one round penetrate the weak articulated armour plates on his neck. A single bullet passed through the side of his neck and went right through.
That stung like hell, but it can’t have struck anything vital. I’m still breathing normally.
He stood up and rushed on at his attacker, thrusting his Assegai deep into its torso. He forced it back against the sidewall, and Antos and Babacan piled in beside him.
He reached up and touched his neck. He felt a stinging sensation, and it caused his head to jolt back in pain. There was blood all over his glove. It wasn’t ideal, but he knew he could go on. The others hadn’t noticed his injury in the flurry of combat. He watched three of his team gun down five of the enemy from inside the barricade. Another two came rushing at them with swords held high over their heads and roaring their battle cry. But his people showed no mercy, just as he had told them to do.
The noise of gunfire filled the room once more as the remaining enemy were mercilessly cut down. He pointed for Antos to lead the way, doing his best to go on and ignore the pain, and reloading his rifle and pistol on the move. With two others he was making such good headway that the gap between them began to open until gunshots rang out ahead. Antos ducked back for cover.
“Looks like we found what we were looking for!” he shouted triumphantly.
Taylor nodded in appreciation. He pulled out a grenade and armed it, throwing it without even checking for his targets.
“Ready, Antos?”
“Yes.”
The charge ignited and echoed throughout the corridors. A second later Taylor was around the corner and running towards the bridge. It was a dust cloud ahead. He went to squeeze the trigger for covering fire, but before he could even fire a shot, a small steel javelin rushed towards him. He was too slow and distracted to move aside. The javelin penetrated his shield and into the gap between his shoulder spaulder and gorget. In the heat of the moment, and with his adrenaline up, he was able to go on as if nothing had happened. Deep down he knew he would soon pay the price for it.
He opened fire with a long burst and broke through the smoke. A small artillery piece was set up ahead. It looked like a ballista. A weapon he was only familiar with because of Jones’ continuous ramblings. The javelins were in fact bolts fired from a high power weapon, and it was aimed right at him. Taylor leapt aside as it was fired, and it missed him by several centimetres. But he turned back to see Antos stagger into the room with the bolt protruding from his stomach. He dropped down onto one knee before defiantly standing and returning fire.
“Motherfuckers!” Taylor screamed and joined in the action, gunning down the two crew of the weapon.
As he watched their bodies fall, he suddenly remembered why they had come. The pain was causing him to lose focus, or maybe that was the blood loss. He saw the door to what looked like the bridge. It was unguarded now. He rushed at it and crashed into it in desperation. But he bounced back off. He raised his rifle and fired a burst around the frame before pointing to Babacan. He knew exactly what he was asking. The huge Krys warrior stormed forward and barrelled through the doorway with little resistance at all.
They were met with just one fully automatic weapon. The shots bounced from Babacan's armour until he raised his Hydra and returned fire to silence their attacker. Taylor knocked another two down until there was just one left who came rushing for him. He was taller than the other creatures, more lavishly decorated in colourful sashes, and with a skull hanging from his belt.
He must be in charge.
He came forward with nothing but a sword in hand. Any other time, Mitch would have given him the satisfaction of single combat, but they did not have the time. He raised his rifle and fired three shots into the creature's torso, and another two in the head as he fell. It wasn't the honourable thing to do, but the thought hadn't even occurred to the others at his back.
Bailey rushed to the controls, but she looked confused as she tried to interpret it.
"What is this?" she asked, frantically trying to make sense of it all. Babacan strode up to her.
"Can you read this?" she asked.
"Some of it."
He pressed a few keys and looked up as if expecting some result. When nothing happened, he rushed across the room and stopped. Sparks were flying from where the bridge wiring had been severed. Taylor stepped up beside him.
"We did not do this," stated Babacan.
"They've jammed the controls, haven't they? Put us on a course to destruction?"
Babacan nodded.
"Sergeant Fry, come in!" Taylor yelled through their comms.
"Sir, we have reached the engines. What are your orders?"
"Blow them. Blow them now!"
"Yes, Sir."
"It won't slow us down," said Babacan.
"No, but if we can at least take out the power, we might get some help to stop us yet."
He lifted up his hand to speak to Fry once again.
"Blow them now!" he barked.
"Affirmative, Colonel."
Everyone went silent and waited for the inevitable impact. They had to hope and pray that hitting the engines wouldn't ignite the whole ship before they had a chance to avert the next disaster. Almost thirty seconds later the ship rocked as the explosives went off. They felt the vibrations through the decks.
"This is Fry. Engines destroyed, I repeat, engines are destroyed."
Taylor nodded.
"Alita, come in!"
He knew he was being very informal with the way he addressed her over open channels, but he didn't care anymore.
"I'm here, Mitch. I'm going to try and use the harpoon harness and bring you to a standstill. I have another pilot helping me out."
"Can you get the Guam to give you a hand?"
"Negative, she is still engaged in combat."
"Then do whatever you can."
He looked around. Babacan was messing with a load of wiring behind one of the consoles. It looked like he had no idea what he was doing, but seconds later a light flashed, and a projection of the view ahead was visible. It crackled and spluttered, but it gave them an insight into what could well be their deaths. They were rapidly closing on Ulsan now.
"Can you get anything else working?" Taylor asked in desperation, but Babacan shook his head.
"Then it is out of our hands now."
They continued their descent.
"Alita, how long will you be?"
"We have been attached for the last minute. It's too late. We are being dragged into the atmo."
It was a terrifying prospect, knowing they may plummet to their deaths and there seemed nothing left that they could do.
"If we can make a breach, we could jump it, use our boosters," suggested Antos.
Taylor shook his head. "Not at this speed, we'd never get enough lift."
They broke through the atmosphere and could see plumes of thick smoke coming from fires raging on the surface. Tracer fire flashed across the ground from the colony defences engaging the enemy.
"We've got a third craft!" Alita shouted.
There seemed no hope as they still soared towards the ground.
"Third cable engaged!"
They seemed to slow a little, but not enough to make a difference.
"Tell me something is changing."
"I...I can't stop you!"
"Do not die because of this. If there is no chance, then I want you and the other ships to detach, you hear me?"
"Hang on, I'm going to try something...if we use our afterburners, everything we have. It could burn our engines out, but it might just be enough."
"No, you do as you are ordered, you got that?"
There was silence on the bridge of the enemy vessel. A whole squad of the platoon was around him, and many of the second squad were listening in from the doorway. Finally, a response came from Alita. It was calm and calculated, and he knew there was no arguing with it.
"No, I will not. You told me to never give up just because something is tough. We are going to see this through. If we make it at all, it's going to be one hell of a hard landing, so secure what you can and hold on!"
Taylor smiled just a little, as it was the sort of blind faith and hope he always managed to muster in the most awful of situations.
"You heard the lady, buckle up!" he ordered.
They all clung to the walls and support beams. Anything they could find. They watched the screen. It was like sitting in a theatre, and yet living through a horror movie. They were at a few thousand feet when they saw they were heading for a half assembled warship in one of the dockyards. Much of the structure was built, but most of the outer skin missing, so it looked like the skeleton of a vessel.
"That'll certainly break our fall," said Antos.
Taylor looked across to see he was smiling. There was nothing left to do now but hope and make light of the situation. They were heading for the lower hull. They could not survive a nose first plummet into the ground. But as they descended further, their nose began to lift. A thousand feet now and only seconds left until impact.
"Brace!"
They crashed into the upper superstructure. They were thrown about the bridge violently, but the ship did not come to a halt. It punched right through the partly built vessel as huge chunks were ripped out of the hull. They heard steel being ripped from the sides until a man-size breach appeared to the starboard side. Taylor was flat on his face from where he had been thrown. The display screen flickered on and off violently. They were heading right for a construction tower arm. All he could do was hunker down and hope for the best. The impact tore into the vessel. He heard part of the hull above them rip off as they were thrown into a spin on their final descent.
They then crashed into the upper floor of a tall structure and pierced several floors. Each one they hit, they slowed a little further. Taylor was picked up like a ragdoll and thrown across the bridge from one side to another. He was finally launched into the centre of the bridge, and as he impacted violently, he was knocked unconscious.
Chapter 6
"Taylor! Anyone alive in here!"
The voice was faint and muffled, but it was enough to wake him up. He would recognise Alita's voice anywhere and anytime. He coughed and spluttered, putting his hands down to force himself up onto his knees. Antos was sitting only two metres away. His leg was impaled on a broken support of one of the consoles and bleeding as much from that as his stomach injury. He lay back beside it being given treatment by Bailey, whose face was a bloody mess.
"You okay, Colonel?" Antos asked.
He seemed completely unbothered by his injuries. Taylor couldn't tell if that was because of his constitution or the drugs he had been injected with. A pile of rubble and rocks clattered through the breach above them. Someone slid through and tumbled in before rolling onto their feet. It was Alita. Taylor tried to get to his feet, but he was weak and only managed to get onto one knee. She rushed to his side and helped him up.
“They’ll fix you,” he said to Antos, “They fix everything.”
He nodded. Nobody could tell whether he would survive, but no one wanted to dwell on the worst-case scenario. Alita helped him over to another breach in the side of the hull and stopped as they reached it. They were at some kind of viewpoint out across a scenic spot. It was indeed a tall viewpoint, but far from scenic.
Fires raged and gunfire still raced back and forth.
“We did it,” she stated.
He didn’t seem convinced.
“Really, the Guam has defeated the remaining vessels in orbit. Local forces are just cleaning up here. We did it. You did it!”
“Another disaster averted,” he replied.
She frowned in response. “You don’t seem too happy about it.”
He shook his head. “I am, I really am. But you have to wonder how bad things are elsewhere.”
“We aren’t the only ones fighting this war.”
“Feels like it sometimes, though, doesn’t it?”
She couldn’t disagree.
“We need to get back to the Guam. We have places to be.”
She seemed shocked as she recoiled and gasped.
“We barely just all survived this. We’ve lost two ships, and who knows how many casualties.”
“And the enemy doesn’t work to our schedule. Have the wounded evaced as a priority, but I want everyone off this world within two hours. There is a war still raging on out there, and we need to be in it.”
“We need to resupply, refit, and repair.”
“And we will in time. Get on it, Lieutenant.”
She didn’t like being addressed by her rank by Mitch. She knew why he did it. She nodded in agreement, knowing there would be no argument.
“You’ll be in the first wave?” she asked as a concession, and he begrudgingly agreed. He was starting to feel weak, and no matter how much he wanted to be the last out, he needed attention.
* * *
Taylor had been sitting in the medical bay for an hour and was getting restless. He kept looking at his watch until he was satisfied that enough time had passed for Alita to manage the withdrawal of their people from the surface. A doctor strode up to him and studied the wound on his neck and arm.
“You really are a lucky man, Colonel.”
“Luck’s got nothing to do with it,” he snarled.
“Yeah? Tell that to her,” he said, pointing to one of the recently recruited Immortals whose legs had been amputated. He couldn’t even remember her name, but he got the doctor’s point. He got up on his feet.
“You can’t leave, Colonel. We aren’t done with you yet.”
“Have you stopped the bleeding?”
“Yes,” the doctor replied in surprise.
“Then we are done.”
He stepped into his armour and took up his rifle from the rack beside his bed. No other crewman would have been able to keep their weapons and armour with them in the medical bay, but nobody dared question Taylor. The burnt and scarred armour clamped around him. It was already looking like the battle-hardened gear he had before his battle with the Morohta Prince. He strode over to the wounded woman. She smiled on seeing him approach.
She was fully conscious. Two wounds on her right arm had been patched up, and she looked enthusiastic, despite the loss of both of her legs from just above the knee. She must have been pumped up on a cocktail of drugs, but no amount of them would be able to lift her to the state of confidence she seemed to show. As he stopped beside her, he noticed a clean set of uniform with her name beside the bed. It read Private Andrews.
She looks just out of school, but she must be at least a year or two older.
“We won, didn’t we, Colonel?”
He nodded.
“Sure did.”
“Don’t let them send me home. I can get new legs. I will be back in no time.”
He was genuinely impressed with her resolve, but doubtful she would ever make it back to the Immortals.
“New legs? Yes, I am sure you will.”
“Where are we going now, Sir?”
Taylor shrugged.
“Wherever we are needed.”
“Thank you for letting me serve under you, Sir. It is the greatest honour of my life.”
“And it is an honour to have fought with you, Private. You take it easy. Forgive me, but I have work to do.”
“Go get ‘em, Sir.”
He smiled and saw the doctor looking disapprovingly as he left, but he didn’t skip a beat. He found Jones striding towards the entrance to come and see him.
“They let you out so soon?” he asked.
“You think they could stop me?”
Jones smiled. He knew there was no chance Taylor was supposed to leave, but he didn’t argue with him.
“What is the status of our people on the ground?”
“Hariz is lifting out the last of them now.”
“Good, then we can be on our way within the hour. What are our losses?”
“Four dead, eleven wounded. The Guam’s crew has thirteen dead, twenty-three wounded, and eight still unaccounted for.”
Taylor scowled. “It’s too many.”
They both knew it was a modest amount for what they’d achieved, but it was still more than they could afford.
“So what now?
“This was just the beginning. We find the next place that’s having a hard time and go help them.”
“You think we are ready for that?”
“Doesn’t matter what I think. We are needed, so we will go.”
He strode towards the bridge with Jones trailing close behind.
“You don’t think you could do with a little time to rest and recover?”
“Sure. I’d love a month’s vacation in a tropical paradise with half naked women serving my ice cold cocktails while I work on my tan.”
“Really?”
It made him smile because he could see it was a fantasy Taylor had given some thought to and not just blurted out.
“Wouldn’t you?”
Jones shrugged.
“Not sure my wife would be so fond of the idea.”
“Yep, and neither would the Alliance when they need us so badly. We have a job to do, and while we are living and breathing, we will continue to do it to the best of our efforts.”
They reached the bridge to find Song still organising repair efforts.
“How long until we can jump?” he demanded.
“Well…in theory we have the ability to do so now, but there are still a number of repairs we could do with making. There are plenty of repair drones on Ulsan, so given a day or two could have everything back in order.”
“Negative, we don’t have a day to waste. Recall anyone you have out there and prepare to make a jump to Gateway 12.”
Song looked taken aback.
“You want to get back into the fight so soon after barely making it through?”
“Barely made it? This crew, this ship, and my people all did what they were trained for and what they were expected to do. We have sustained minimal casualties, and the vessel remains in a jump worthy state. I would call that nothing short of a damn successful operation, would you not?”
“Well, yes, Colonel, but…”
Taylor did not let her say anymore.
“There are more people out there who are depending on us. Like those civilians we left behind. If they are still alive, then maybe we can go to their aid, but there will be many more like them who could do with our help.”
“Colonel, it is true that we can go on, but if we engage in another battle of that magnitude, then we may not live to see another,” added Nichols.
“Well, then we better make sure we kick ass. Captain, make the jump.”
Song didn’t look at all happy, but she ordered back the maintenance crews and fighters. The bridge fell silent as they waited for them all to return.
“It’s going to get a lot worse, isn’t it?” Jones whispered.
Taylor nodded.
“It’s barely even begun yet.”
“We’re ready to jump, Colonel,” stated Song.
Before he could respond, she strode up to talk to him more privately.
“Colonel, may I please ask you to reconsider? We can get fixed up here in no time. Give us the best chance we have in the next battle.”
“And what about all those who have no chance that are fighting and dying right now?”
Song had nothing to say.
“You can’t always be at your best in a fight. This isn’t sport. It’s war. You do the best you can. Now this old girl will hold together. She always has. Let’s get back in this fight.”
Song appreciated what he had to say.
“Prepare to jump to Gateway 12…on my mark…jump!”
Once again they appeared in the nebula like area, and once again it was empty. This time they knew what to expect and waited for news from Osborne.
“I am picking up…fifty-four distress signals.”
“Fifty-four?” Song gasped.
“and…”
They all waited with anticipation. It was killing them. They couldn’t understand what could possibly be worse.
“What is it?” Song demanded.
“A priority beacon, Sir.”
“From what destination?”
“From, from… Earth.”
They felt their hearts almost stop upon the news.
“What does it say?”
Osborne answered the Colonel.
“Earth has been hit by multiple enemy fleets. Reporting sixteen engagements on the surface and an on going battle in orbit with a sizeable enemy force. They are requesting all available Alliance ships to come to their aid.”
Song turned to Taylor.
“What are your orders, Colonel?”
“Set a course for Earth.”
“What about the rest of the fleet at Ares 4?”
“If they did as we ordered, then they will already have responded to this message. If not, it is out of our hands. Get us there, now!”
None of them wanted to imagine the horrors that had encompassed to what was for so many of them their homeworld, and yet none wanted to go there alone. But nobody argued any longer. They had accepted what had to be done.
“Make the jump,” Song said quietly.
Light flashed before them, and a few seconds later they emerged near Earth. It was partially obscured by something dark moving ahead of them, with several other objects of debris blocking their view. A siren sounded in warning.
“Take emergency manoeuvres now!” Song ordered.
But it was too late. They crashed into what they could barely identify as the burnt out hulk of a ship. One of the many casualties of a battle they were only just entering. They watched the pilot duck and weave through a field of debris, and finally the view ahead of them was clear. The wrecks of almost thirty ships lay between them and the planet, a mix of Human, Krys, and the enemy vessels. Some looked like those they had already encountered, others were larger.
“Where is the fleet?” Nichols asked.
“You’re looking at it,” said Taylor.
They could see the planetary defence ring was wrecked and inoperable, and it was starting to dawn on them all that Earth remained defenceless in space.
“And the enemy?”
They all knew the answer to the Captain’s question. Whatever had made it there was now on the surface, and it was a terrifying prospect.
“Get me a direct line to President Isaacs. Use my authentication code,” said Taylor.
“Is he on Earth right now?”
“Last I heard he was, Jones. It’s about time we knew what the fuck is going on. We need to hit these sons of bitches, but we need to know where.”
“You think you’ll reach him in the midst of this?”
“Yes, if there is one person he should take a call from, it’s me.”
“You think he thinks that highly of you?”
“No, I think he knows I am the one to dig him out of the shit.”
“Colonel, I have the President for you,” said Osborne to everyone’s surprise.
“Put him on screen.”
The President was projected before them for everyone to see.
“Colonel Taylor, perhaps we should do this more privately.
“No, Sir, this crew deserves to hear whatever you are going to tell me, so save us all some time and spit it out.”
Song couldn’t believe the way he spoke to the President, although he didn’t seem to draw issue with it.
“Okay, Colonel. I am at a secure location, and along with my staff, who are in the room with me here and continuing to coordinate the efforts on the ground.”
“What sort of numbers are we talking about?”
“From what we have seen so far, it is tens of thousands of enemy combatants on the down there.”
“And the defence platform? Why didn’t it stop them?”
“They jumped right on top of us. One enemy ship jumped into the defence grid, and it was disabled immediately. Others landed in the atmosphere, and the rest took out the modest fleet we had here. They’re crazy. It’s like they have no navigation controls at all.”
“That’s right. Best we can tell they are just hurling themselves into space and hoping for the best.”
“And they just happened to find Earth?”
“Gamble enough and you eventually get lucky. What can we do to help?”
“How many ships and troops do you have?”
“Just one, and a couple of hundred Marines at best.”
The President shook his head. “Then I am not sure how much you can do.”
“Don’t underestimate us. Where is worst hit?”
“At present, Reno.”
“Reno? Who the fuck would want to go there? It’s nothing more than a washed up dust shit hole.”
The President looked surprised, but Jones leaned in to explain.
“Reno is one of the most affluent cities on Earth. A communications centre, much like New York or London used to be in your day.”
“Well, well, I guess some things do change.”
“Reno is overrun, Colonel. Swarming with thousands of enemy combatants.”
“How many thousands?”
He shrugged. “Could be ten thousand, could be a hundred. We are getting mixed reports. All I can tell you is things are bad on the ground over there, and there isn’t much we can do about it.”
“All right, we’ll get on it. Have you sent for more aid?”
“Yes, but you are the first to arrive.”
Taylor wasn’t confident anyone else would be coming. The extent of the attacks was becoming apparent. It wasn’t enough of an invasion force to defeat them, but certainly capable of causing chaos and the loss of many lives.
“You know, fighting on Earth is something I have done all too much of. I’ll go to Reno, and I’ll put an end to the enemy presence there, but you have to give me free rein to do whatever is necessary to get the job done.”
“You have it, Colonel. Good luck.”
The transmission ended, but nobody said word until Taylor finally broke the peace. He thought back to the last time he had been in Reno. Hundreds of years ago, it felt like just a handful to him. It was a dusty abandoned old city of vice that they had used for exercises. He turned to face Jones and was reminded of the opposition they faced in that friendly exercise, none other than Jones’ descendant himself, Charlie Jones. Somehow it felt like he was finally going home.
“Set a course for Reno, and inform Lieutenant Hartley that I want a platoon of Marines and two service crews ready to board the remains of the defence grid.”
Song gestured towards Nichols to carry out the orders.
“What do you have in mind?” she asked Taylor.
“Got to be plenty of weaponry still active on that grid. It could be just the sort of advantage we need to even up the odds on the ground.”
“But the grid was intended to defend against fleets, not to bombard the ground. That is precisely what it wasn’t intended for.”
“And yet we both know it is quite capable of it. In the event of an overwhelming enemy presence on Earth, the grid is able to fire on Earth herself.”
Song didn’t want to admit it, but it was clear she was aware of that fact.
“That’s right. I’ve been round long enough to know how these things work. You just don’t admit them to the general public. People aren’t ready to hear that kind of shit, not until it is needed. Do you think you can get it operational?”
“Hard to know until our people are aboard, but if it is possible, we will find a way.”
“Then do it.”
“Where are you going?”
“To get ready. We are joining this fight on the ground. Contact all civilian vessels in the area and get them to help in the evacuation effort.”
“You want people to abandon their homes?”
“Leave them, Captain, or die inside. By the time this fight is through, there won’t be much of a home left for them.”
He strode off the bridge with Jones who was still in disbelief.
“Thousand, tens of thousands? What the hell are we supposed to do about those kind of numbers?”
But Taylor seemed calm.
“I am not going to lie to you, Jones. I don’t have all the answers. The Guam can provide support from the air. If we can get the grid up and running, that can help, too. I am sure there are National Guard forces engaging the enemy. We shouldn’t have to do all the work ourselves.”
“Good, because there is only so much we can handle. We have four platoons at our disposal, and a number of dead and wounded amongst them, too.”
They reached the assembly area beside the docking bay. All of their active personnel were loading up with ammunition and equipment. They froze and went silent as Taylor approached.
“Maybe some of you haven’t heard yet, but the enemy has reached Earth. Earth! The fleet has been destroyed. Whatever else we have out there is engaged or unable to come to the aid our homeworld. Ground forces have engaged the enemy at a number of locations. The President himself has requested that we go to assist at Reno. We’re going in hot. We don’t know the enemy or friendly strength. All we know is that they are there, and we are willing and able to help. So load up, and get ready to hit these fuckers. I fought too hard for too long to see Earth in danger once again. Are you with me?”
A roar of excitement echoed around the room. As it died down, footsteps approached. Andrews was striding towards him. She was in full combat order. He legs replaced with alloy bones and joints and supported by the exoskeleton of her armour. She walked as easily as any other, and bore her skeletal replacement legs with no shame at all. There was no attempt to cover them, and so she looked like part machine. She stopped before him and saluted.
“Private Andrews reporting for duty, Sir.”
He couldn’t believe her strength and commitment.
“Have you been cleared by the doctors for active duty?”
“Hell, no.”
He smiled. “Fall in, Private.”
He saw Hartley approaching.
"All okay, Lieutenant?"
He sighed.
"All apart from the fact that you are taking all our boats. You want us to retake that defence grid platform, and all we got is that shuttle. No armour, no guns," he said and pointed to a small craft likely intended for nothing more than shuttling civilians and VIPs during peacetime.
"We need 'em more than you do. Far as we know, you will see no resistance getting aboard that platform. The same can't be said for Reno."
"Just don't lose any more, or we won't be going anywhere."
Taylor laughed.
"Do what I can."
Taylor turned back around to see everyone on deck was eager to get into action, and he knew why. Fighting the enemy out on the edge of space was a very different reality to when the battle was brought to the home front. It was a feeling Taylor knew all too well.
"Load up!" he barked.
Once more they climbed aboard one of the Stormers and were greeted by Alita making her final pre-flight checks.
"Here we go again," she said light heartedly.
"Any sign of remaining enemy presence in orbit?" Taylor asked, jumping straight to the point.
"Nothing. Looks like they blew through here in no time at all. They knew what their target was."
"Yep, this is gonna cost us big-time."
"We have just been cleared for take-off."
"Then batten down the hatches and get us on our way."
He took his seat beside her as the doors shut and the engines fired to life. The doors opened, and once again they could see Earth, still obscured by the debris of so many fallen ships from both sides.
"We can only hope the defences on the surface are up to the task. You'd be a fool to rely on just a perimeter defence."
"Or you just don't know any better. You keep forgetting, we haven't had to deal with a war like this. Not in our lifetimes, nor our fathers or grandfathers. This is all still new to us. The very idea of Earth being threatened by anything just seemed a fantasy long lost to the history books."
"Jones always told me that history always repeats itself. How has that information been lost through the ages?"
"Same way a pilot loses their edge when they don't fly, and a sportsman loses their fitness when they no longer compete. When the need isn't there, it isn't maintained."
She’s right. It was much the same in my day when the Krys first arrived.
"If I could have left this world with one piece of advice, it would have been that you must always be ready for war. No matter how strong you think you are, how solid an alliance is, or how long you have enjoyed peace. I thought that would have been very obvious after all we went through back in the Krys wars. Do people learn nothing from history?"
She shook her head and smiled.
"We're only human."
That was the only relief he had. To know that their humanity had been retained, warts and all. They soared forward into space, and time passed quickly as they raced towards the atmosphere. Alita answered an incoming transmission from the Guam. Song was waiting to brief them.
"Colonel, the enemy is currently located in the west of the city of Reno. Most of the evacuation efforts are centred around the north and east. National Guard is flying civilians out from the rooftops in the centre, but the enemy is already five hundred metres from their location. The troops on the ground are being overwhelmed by their numbers. The Major in charge, Davis, tells me they may have to abandon the centre before long, but that will leave up to twenty thousand civilians stranded."
"Stranded! You mean left for dead?"
"That is my understanding, yes."
"Then I guess we have a target to aim for. Be ready to give fire support."
"On a civilian city?"
Taylor frowned.
"It's a warzone down there. We have to fight and contain the enemy where we can."
"And the civilians?"
"We'll do what we can. Taylor out."
He reached forward and ended the transmission.
"Get me that Major."
"He is already on the line waiting for you," Alita replied, reaching forward and opening a transmission.
Explosions rang out in the background as the Major hunkered down. He looked about the same age as Taylor. He was black, with a shaved head and a deep fresh cut running from his eyebrow up over his skull. His helmet was nowhere to be seen.
"About time we got some help, what is your ETA?" he asked before looking closely at the screen and recognising Taylor.
"Colonel Taylor?"
"That's right."
"We sure could do with your help. We're swamped right about now. We've evaced thousands of civis, but our job is far from over."
"What is the enemy strength?"
"As far as we can tell about twenty thousand."
Alita's jaw dropped.
"What? That's nothing like what we have seen till now," she gasped.
"We have orders to pull out as soon as the enemy got within half a klick of our position."
"How long until that happens?"
"About half an hour ago," he said wearily.
"How much more time do you need to get the civilians out of there?"
"Ideally, an hour, maybe two. But any time you can buy us can make a difference."
"Hold on in there, Major. We'll be with you shortly. Taylor out."
"They city has fallen, hasn't it?"
"Looks that way, Alita. Open a channel to our teams."
She reached forward and did as he asked, nodding to signal that he was live.
"This is Taylor. We're going in hot. Civilians in the centre are at risk of being overrun from the west. We are going to come down right on their positions. Create a perimeter and hold out as long as we can. Keep it tight and hold your ground. Good luck."
They watched with anticipation as they broke through the atmosphere.
"I guess this isn't how you imagined your return to Earth would be?"
"Actually, it's exactly how I expected it. War has been my life for as long as I can remember. The day I see blue skies and a peaceful path ahead of me is the day I start to worry."
"Why?"
"Because it probably means I am dead, and walking Elysium."
"I thought you didn't believe in all that?"
"Not until the day I can see it with my own eyes, which is why I would worry," he replied with a smirk.
They were closing in on the city quickly as they descended rapidly towards the surface. Trails of light and smoke flashed across the city. A dozen of the larger skyscrapers were bellowing with smoke as one collapsed. Dust and debris scattered out across several blocks, and the massive structure vanished within the chaos of the battle.
"My god," said Alita.
They could see battles raging across the entire western side of the city, a front stretching five kilometres. Though they knew much of it would not be a battle at all, but civilians being gunned down like caged animals.
"How are we meant to deal with all this?"
"Let's start by getting those civilians out, having a go at whittling down their numbers, and go from there. Once we are on the ground, I want you and the other Stormers to assist Major Davis in getting people out. While you are at it, have Song initiate ground bombardment of any enemy one klick to our west and beyond."
"One klick? That's far too close."
"And any further back and we may be swamped. Just do it."
They swooped in low and weaved in between the skyrise buildings of one of the high streets. It was a lavish city indeed. Filled with expensive fashion stores, the likes of which Taylor would never think to step foot in, let alone hope to afford even if he wanted to. He could see a single National Guard squad laying down fire from behind a number of abandoned cars, but they were coming under a wave of fire. Two were killed as they flew past, and the others ducked down for cover.
Alita brought them to a hover just forward of the soldiers' position, less than fifty metres above the ground. He rushed to the door. It slid open as he smashed his hand on the button. He looked back to Alita. She wanted nothing more than to go with him, but she would not ignore his orders. He wanted to say something to her. As he looked into her eyes, he knew she could tell, and he didn't need to say a word.
"Come on, boys, let's show these bastards why you don't mess with Earth!"
He turned back with a smile and leapt out of the door.
Chapter 7
There was a crunch beneath Taylor's feet as he landed on the rooftop of a yellow cab. It collapsed slightly under his weight, jamming to a stop as it met with the seats inside. He fired up his shield and quickly targeted the first of the Amitad warriors with his rifle. He fired a burst, and it dropped dead on top of a dead civilian. Two dozen of the feral looking creatures came rushing towards them.
A hail of gunfire rained down on them as those descending from the craft laid down fire. Within seconds he heard the familiar and deafening sound of Babacan's Hydra spit into life and throw hundreds of rounds down the street. The enemy soldiers and cars around them were peppered with bullets. Eight fell in the first volley. But just as before, they did not seek cover nor try to hide from the onslaught. They just kept coming.
Taylor had emptied his first magazine without taking a step. He looked back to the Army squad watching in amazement at their work. He beckoned for them to come forward.
"Come on!" he yelled.
They initially looked hesitant, but as they watched the enemy being cut down by Taylor's troops, they seemed to gain a new sense of purpose, and advanced amongst the cover of a line of abandoned vehicles. Taylor slammed in a new magazine and looked down at the horde still advancing relentlessly towards them. The sun was going down, and they didn’t have a lot of light left.
“We’re in for a long night,” he muttered to himself.
He opened fire with his second magazine and leapt off the car, advancing as he saw the Army squad approach. More than anything he wanted to set an example for them to follow. He could see the fear among the unit, and he understood why. On the ground before him were the bodies of a number of their comrades, as well as a dozen more civilians.
It was unlikely any of them had seen combat before. They were weekend warriors in a time of peace. It made Taylor distraught, for he was beginning to realise just how weak the defence of Earth really was. This was nothing more than an opening attack to test the defences and raise a little trouble.
What happens when the real army turns up?
He watched them scurrying amongst the vehicle behind him.
“Do you want to die here? Get in this fucking fight!”
It was harsh, and he knew they must be hurting from their losses and the shock to their easy way of life, but he had no choice, if there was any chance they would survive like he intended them to.
* * *
The landing gear rocked as the Stormer landed hard in a rapid landing. The door dropped, and Alita rushed out with her rifle in hand. She was the only crew aboard and headed towards the person who seemed to be in charge. She could see his Major rank slides as she strode towards him, but she barged her way in to address him, shoving several other junior officers aside. She was the only one in powered armour and towered over them as a result. They were thrown aside, and the Major had no choice but to give her his attention.
“What can I do for you, Lieutenant?” he asked.
“I am with Colonel Taylor, here to save your asses. I’ve got three boats, enough to lift two hundred civilians at a time. Put us to work.”
“Yes, Ma'am,” he replied jokingly.
He pointed to two of his officers and starting barking orders. She had expected a little more opposition, but he seemed to treat her as if she were Taylor himself. A horde of civilians was unleashed from a stairwell nearby and ran towards the doorway of her craft.
“We’ve got an evacuee line set up ten klicks to the east. Get them there, and the troops on the ground will ensure they get to safety,” said Davis.
“And what about our troops on the ground here?”
“They will do what is necessary to save as many lives as they can. My people, and yours.”
She didn’t like it, but had to accept it. Her craft was already filling up, and so were the others she had arrived with. She turned back and grabbed Davis by the collar of his uniform and yanked him in close. The power of her suit allowed her to drag him round as if he was a child, and he was at her mercy.
“I will do what is required of me here, Major, but let me tell you this. Every ounce of blood that is drawn of my people, I will take out on you. They are there fighting because this city wasn’t ready for the war you knew was coming.”
The Major looked frozen and unable to answer.
“That is Colonel Taylor down there, fighting for you and yours. He is more important to this war than anyone else you can imagine, and if we stand any chance of getting through it, we need him alive. So don’t let them go to waste just for some stupid mission.”
The Major coughed to clear his throat and regain his composure.
“There is nothing stupid about this mission. We are trying to save lives, just as you are.”
Alita loosened her grip. She knew she was out of order, but everybody was too scared and unable to do anything about it. She stood as a giant among them in her armour.
“Good luck, Major,” she finally added.
She turned and ran back to her craft. It was dawning on her that the sooner she could get the civilians to safety, the sooner she could get back to help Taylor and the others. She powered up the engines and raced off the rooftop with rapid acceleration. The craft was loaded with many more people than it had seats, but they were packed so close there was nowhere to fall. They were shoulder-to-shoulder and compressed against one another as they rocketed off the building top. She had no words to console them. Her mind was focused on only one thing, getting the job done as quickly as they could so that she could get back to Taylor.
As she passed over the last of the tower blocks in the centre, she started to see the full extent of the evacuation. The streets below were packed with people trying to make it out on foot. The lines went on as far as the eye could see. To the west of the city was a vast staging ground where walls were being hastily erected by ground troops. Three large transport ships had landed beyond the wall and were being loaded with civilians.
There seemed little order to what was going on at the ground, so she looked for the largest opening she could see. It wasn't large enough to land her vessel, but she had to force her way in somewhere. She lifted the nose and brought the craft in for a quick landing. She hovered for just a second to allow people to clear the way below. The engines kicked up dust and blew several people aside, while others ran for their lives as to not be crushed. She couldn't tell if the landing area was clear, but there was nobody to guide her down. She just had to hope; time was a luxury they did not have.
She slammed her fist down on the door release, and people began to pour off the ship. She got up to usher them out even quicker, but as it began to empty, others were fighting their way through to get aboard. One man just got to the ramp and squeezed through several others and managed to get a foot in.
"Get out!" she screamed at him. He looked up for just a second, but carried on anyway.
"I am going right back into the city. I need this boat empty!"
But two more men climbed in beside him.
"Please, get us out of here. We need to get out of here," pleaded the man.
Another few civilians rushed up the ramp and more were trying to follow them. She went forward and pushed the man back. He was unable to fight against her, but still he tried as the others were driven back to the doorway. She was starting to feel the strain as the number pushing against her increased.
"Please help us!" the man begged once more.
She reached the edge of the ramp and stopped dead as the weight of numbers brought her to a standstill.
"Get off the ramp!" she screamed.
"You have to help us!" the man cried, pushing his way to get back on board.
Alita was irate. She drew her pistol and fired two shots into the air. The people panicked for a second, but they soon pushed back against her through desperation.
"Step away from the ramp, or I will shoot!"
But they kept pushing. She fired in the air again, but it was not enough to deter them. They were too desperate to care, and none of them believed she would truly do them harm. Or maybe the risk of it was nothing compared to being left to the mercy of the barbaric invaders. She shoved the man at the front back one last time, but he was going to come right back at her. She lowered her pistol and fired a single shot into his chest. The moment she had squeezed the trigger she regretted it.
The crowd froze in shock as the body of the man collapsed back into them. He was already dead. Many looked up at her with disgust. They wouldn't dare come at her, but their deathly stares would be enough of a punishment to haunt her for many years to come. She wanted to just break down and cry, but she had to keep going forward. She stepped back and hit the door release. She said nothing as it sealed shut and was finally saved from their judgemental faces.
She knew in her head that she did all that she could do. Every moment wasted endangered more lives. She told herself she would save many more than the one man she killed, but it still didn't make her feel any better. She shed a few tears as she got back to the cockpit and slammed the engines onto full power, wanting nothing more than to get out of there and put her mind on something else. Anything else.
"Idiots," she said, looking down from the cockpit at several civilians bunching around the man's body.
She wiped the tears away and took a deep breath as she turned the craft about and soared back towards the city, back towards Taylor.
* * *
"Keep firing. Give 'em all you got!" Taylor barked.
He could barely be heard over the volleys of gunfire from both sides. The buildings either side of them raged with fire, and the enemy dead were piling up. He had lost none, but the National Guard squad was down to half its strength. They were losing the will to fight, and the survivors rarely popped their heads out from cover. As he finished another magazine, he looked down. He had just one left. But in that moment of silence, he felt the ground shake, and they all felt a tremendous vibration.
Oh, no!
He slammed in the last magazine and rose up from the cover of an overturned car. The tremors were getting louder. It was the sound of not just one of the fearsome Gürveliin creatures, but several of them. He watched in horror as three of the creatures took the bend up ahead.
"Gurv!" he screamed.
It was a terrifying prospect that none of them wanted to imagine. The first creature took the bend too fast and couldn't turn quickly enough. It barrelled into a department store, crashing through the toughened glass and vanishing inside the shop. He knew it wouldn't be the last they saw of it.
The second and third creatures had howdah platforms on top. Two Amitad warriors were in each, riding them like they were war elephants from antiquity. They were firing wildly. Shots struck all around the Immortals' position.
"What do we do?" Antos asked as they watched the creatures hurtle towards them. They crashed into parked vehicles that slowed them down, but didn't come close to stopping them. There was nothing they could do to stop them. Taylor spotted a tramcar further back down the road.
"Fall back!" He pointed to the car.
No one hesitated. Even Babacan knew his Hydra was of little use against the thickly skinned monstrosities. They ran onwards and soon overtook the remains of the Army squad.
"Get to high ground now!" Taylor yelled to them.
They gladly took his orders and rushed to some nearby steps that led up to a rail line suspended above the street. Taylor reached the tram and tried to lift it from its tracks. He was barely able to lift the suspension a little, but his comrades were soon on hand to help. Eight of them got a grip on the front of the car and lifted it clean out of the rails and pulled it aside.
"Pull!" Taylor shouted, as they began to heave it across the street. The familiar sound of the Hydra burst into life to cover them while they manhandled the carriage into position. Another six got on the other end and shoved it along. They managed to heave it into the middle of the street. It blocked off the whole of the road, leaving just small gaps on the sidewalks. The first creature was almost on top of them. He leapt up onto the tram.
"Get back!"
They scattered either side of the road. Even Babacan's gun was out of ammunition, and he rushed for cover, too. Taylor drew out the Amitad blade from his back and held it up in a taunt to the Gurv heading for them.
"Come on!" he cried.
One of the crew laid slumped dead; the other had drawn a blade in anticipation, but Taylor stood firm.
Come on, you son of a bitch!
He was thankful of having the space to manoeuvre; unlike the last time they had met such a creature. The Amitad warrior was readying himself to pounce, and the Gurv showed no signs of slowing down. It got within two metres of the car when the warrior leapt up towards Taylor. But the Colonel launched himself vertically. The warrior flew underneath him and over the top of the car. It crashed down the other side where it found itself before a firing squad of those sheltering behind the cover.
The Gurv crashed into the car with all its weight and power. The car was rocked up but didn't tip. The creature’s back legs buckled up and slightly over before it crashed down onto its side. Taylor landed beside the creature as it staggered back. Its legs wobbled, and blood poured from several wounds it had taken from the impact. It looked weak and drowsy. Taylor didn't give it any time to recover. He raised his blade with both hands, and in one swing decapitated the creature.
Blood spewed out over the side of the wrecked tramcar as he sighed in relief.
"Colonel!" a voice yelled.
The other creature was rushing right for him. He jumped up onto the roof of the carriage, but as he landed, it smashed into the wrecked car. He was thrown over the top as the car itself rolled over. The creature tumbled over it. It rolled right past him, crushing its two riders. He was a little disorientated by the impact but was soon back on his feet. He could hear gunfire raging the other side of the car where his people were engaging the enemy who had gotten a solid opening to advance on them. But that wasn't his biggest problem. He had lost his sword in the tumble, and now he squared off against the beast alone.
He drew out his Assegai ready. It was far from the fastest or most clever enemy he had fought, but its brute strength, weight, and power were terrifying. He began to circle it as the creature grunted at him. It bore its filthy teeth that looked razor sharp. He had no doubt its powerful jaw would crush through his armour with ease.
"Good beastie," he said as he thought how he was going to take it on. The creature began to grunt more loudly and tap its foot like a bull about to charge. But out of the corner of his eye he saw Babacan leap on top of it and hold onto the front of its howdah. The creature bucked back onto its hind legs and fought to throw him off, but he held on with an iron grip. He had no weapons but his bare arms, but he wrestled it back down to the ground.
The creature then lurched forward and rushed at a nearby building. It tilted and crashed into the side so that Babacan was crushed against the wall. Part of the structure gave way and collapsed over both of them. Yet still it ran onwards so that he was dragged through more of the wall, but he refused to let go. Finally, the creature reached a dead end and turned to find open road.
Instead, it found Taylor. Babacan wrenched its head up to reveal the softer tissue on its neck, and Taylor drove his Assegai in deep.
The Gurv recoiled from the wound and began to gurgle. He drew out the blade and a pool of blood began to gather at his feet. He once again sighed, but as Babacan released his grip, the dying creature lurched forward and clamped his jaw down onto Taylor's left arm. Despite being almost dead, he could feel the powerful jaw tightening down on his arm like a vice. His armour had stopped him from losing it at the elbow, but he could feel his bones crunch as it was starting to crush the plates of his suit.
"Get it off!" he screamed.
Babacan leapt to his aid and got a hand on each side of the creature's jaw, trying to pull it apart with all his strength. It was enough to stop it closing any tighter, but the creature was still resisting any more movement. Taylor was trying to prise its mouth open with his other arm, but he couldn't get much of a grip.
"Whoa!" a voice yelled.
They looked back. Antos stepped out from behind the wreckage of the tramcar.
"Give us a hand!" Taylor hollered.
Antos looked around for something, anything to help. He spotted a rail tube that had broken loose from the car and picked it up. He rushed up to them and thrust the bar into the creature's mouth, levering it with all his strength.
"Come on!" Taylor screamed.
He lifted his rifle and put the barrel into the creature’s mouth. He fired two bursts to try and loosen its grip further. Finally, the light seemed to fade from its eyes, and its mouth was wrenched open. Taylor staggered backwards. The greave of his forearm was buckled and punctured in two places. The pain was starting to kick in, and blood was dripping, but he still had motor control. He clenched his fist to be certain.
"Close call," said Antos.
"Too close," he said, patting Babacan on the shoulder.
"Thank you, my friend."
He nodded in appreciation but said nothing. He was almost entirely coated in dust and debris from the buildings he had been smashed through, but he shrugged it off as if it were nothing. He went to the car and looked out through the windows the other side. Their people were still laying down fire, but the enemy numbers only seemed to be increasing.
Two of their own were being carried back to cover where they had been injured by the incoming fire.
"We can't go on like this. Time to get the fuck out of here," stated Taylor.
"You read my mind, Sir," added Antos.
"All units fall back. Back to the boats!"
It was an all too familiar situation, and his people were just as eager as he was to get out of there. Craft were still descending on the tower they had been defending. The ships came in thick and fast, and he could only hope they were close to completing the evacuation. They started to get up pace back to the tower and were within spitting distance of the doors when they heard a crash beside them. The final Gurv plummeted through a shop front and charged towards them.
Taylor ground to an abrupt halt, and the creature barrelled past them. It dug its feet into the road and slid to a halt, turning to face off against them once more. They couldn’t make it to the building or hope to get up a few floors before it would maul them. Their luck wouldn’t hold out forever. He’d barely survived the clash with the last one.
The creature grunted twice, but on the third time the thunderous echo of an engine drowned out its raucous tone. As it turned around, a main battle tank crash into it, eighty tonnes of hardened alloy, powered by two thousand horsepower of muscle. It smashed the creature back into the wall of a building, crushing it against the support pillars of the structure. There was no doubt it was dead on impact, as the vehicle reversed back out and a hatch opened on the turret. An officer climbed out and looked at them with a welcome smile. It was completely out of touch with their environment, and yet very welcome. A second identical vehicle rocked up behind it.
A hole had been punctured in the side as if the horn of a creature thrust through it, and burn marks adorned he armour plating.
“Where you boys heading?” asked the Commander of the first vehicle.
Taylor looked up at the building. Craft were still coming and going at a rapid pace. They still had work to do.
“Anywhere but here!”
“What about our ride?” Antos asked.
“There are people who need it more,” replied Taylor.
“Looks like we’re the last way out of here, you coming with us or not?”
“All aboard, boys. Let’s move!”
He clambered up onto the tank and took position beside the Commander. The others piled on. Between his people and the National Guard squad, they almost entirely covered the surfaces of the vehicles. As the last boarded, a wave of enemy warriors swarmed in from where they had first come. The main gun fired, and a massive HE shell ignited amongst the enemy. It must have killed ten or more, and the two machine guns were quick to follow it up.
“Time to move,” said the Commander.
The tank rocked forward and turned almost on the spot, the troops on top laying down fire. The vehicles could no longer turn their turrets for fear of knocking the men off the top.
“Alita, come in."
"Mitch?" her response quickly came, "Are you okay?"
She was being very casual, but he knew it was not intentional.
"We're fine. We've got our own wheels. Get everyone out you can. You don't have long."
"I will."
Her voice was a little shaky, and it was clear she was crying. He couldn't tell if it were out of sadness or happiness, but he was just glad she was still alive.
"Good luck, Lieutenant. Taylor out."
He looked over to the tank Commander. He was grinning like a fool. He could tell what was going on just from the few words they had spoken to one another, but Taylor didn't feel he had to justify himself to anyone. He looked down at the tank. It creaked and rattled as if it was of some vintage; its many coats of thick paint giving the impression it had been in service a long time.
"How many of you are there?"
"There were three when we arrived," he replied solemnly.
"Three? What are you supposed to achieve with three tanks?"
"I can only work with what I’ve got."
Taylor knew that feeling all too well and didn't press the issue. They watched aerial bombardments smash into the city just a few klicks west of them.
"The city has fallen, hasn't it?"
Taylor nodded. It was a familiar situation for him. He didn't know anybody that lived there, and yet it still felt gut wrenching. He could only imagine the civilian death toll. Aircraft were still fleeing from the city, and he noticed the familiar formation of their Stormers. But as they passed overhead, there was a massive explosion atop the roof where just moments before Alita had been rescuing civilians. He lifted his rifle and used the scope to get a better view. The Commander raised his binoculars.
"My god!"
Flames raged from the rooftop, and they watched in despair as an explosion burst out from one of the last ships on the rooftop as it took off. Taylor shook his head.
"We have to put a stop to this now."
"What do you mean?"
"This will spread like a disease. We don't want it. We can't afford it."
He tapped his communicator and opened a channel to the Guam. Song answered herself. She must have been awaiting his call.
"Glad to see you are okay, Colonel."
He skipped any niceties.
"Captain, what is the enemy strength in Reno, right now?"
Song looked loathed to respond.
"How many, Captain?"
"Best count is a massive offensive. As many as twenty thousand."
It didn't shock Taylor like it did her.
"Has Hartley regained control of the defence battery yet?"
"Yes, Sir, but most of the weapon systems are out of action."
"Still got access to nukes?"
Song's eyes widened. She was starting to understand his intentions.
"We can't use nukes against a city," she pleaded.
"Are they operational or not?" he demanded.
She bowed her head. She didn't want to answer the question, and Taylor knew exactly what that meant.
"What is the blast radius of the nukes aboard the grid?"
Song did not respond.
"Look, Captain. We have a major situation down here. The city has fallen. Anyone still left in it is already dead."
But Song shook her head.
"What is it?"
"I just didn't think I would ever hear you give up on people so easily."
Taylor gritted his teeth. He was well aware what he was asking for, and he didn't like it any more than she did.
"Prepare the nuke to launch."
She shook her head once more. She couldn't believe what she was hearing.
"If you do this, Colonel, you will kill every civilian still caught up in the city."
"And if we don't, many more will die. This isn't the only attack on Earth. How are we going to find the forces to repel such an assault? If we leave this any longer, it will spread out of control."
They were tearing across the open desert outside the city at an incredible pace. Up ahead, they could barely make out the walls of the defences, for between them were tens of thousands of refugees. A few ships lifted off from behind the wall, but they couldn't handle the numbers. He looked to the tank Commander for an opinion. He didn't need to say a word.
"We can't protect these people."
"Song, what is the safe distance from this nuke?"
"They're a lot cleaner than back in your day, Colonel. Stay out of the fifteen klick margin, and you'll be fine."
It was all he needed to know.
"Prepare the nuke, Captain."
She begrudgingly accepted.
"Captain Wirral," said the Commander, offering out his hand to Taylor.
Taylor took it gladly, but looked confused as to his timing.
"I would have you know my name before I condone this action, and you take my advice on the matter."
"Mitch Taylor."
The Captain nodded. "I know."
"Nuke is ready to launch, Colonel, but can I please ask you to reconsider? Can we at least get Presidential approval?"
Taylor shook his head.
"Do you know the last time a nuclear weapon was detonated on Earth? Not even tests are carried there anymore. They haven't been for God knows how many hundreds of years."
"We don't need a history lesson, Captain. We just need to get this job done. The President tasked us with dealing with this threat and saving as many lives as we can. That is precisely what we are doing."
"Is there nothing I can say to change your mind?"
"Not a chance in the world. You have my authority to launch when ready. I take full responsibility for this decision."
Song looked at him for just a few moments and began to realise there would be no going back. She wanted to believe there was another way, but she wasn't on the ground, and she trusted Taylor enough to accept his judgement without further question.
"Affirmative, prepare to launch," she ordered and stayed on the line.
Their vehicle rocked to a halt. The convoy of vehicles trying to escape the city had banked up ahead of them. Civilians continued to run past, but nobody aboard the vehicles moved.
"Ready to launch in five, four, three, two, one...missile launched."
Taylor nodded in appreciation.
"We just entered a new age, Colonel," she stated.
"No, we just got back to an old one."
They sat and waited. The civilians still ran and screamed in fear and panic, but not the troops. They waited calmly atop the two vehicles. They were the only ones looking back towards the city. It wasn't long before they spotted the trail of the missile break through the clouds above them.
"Visors down!" Taylor shouted.
They pulled the visors down from their helmets so that they locked in the halfway position, enough to protect their eyes without being stifled.
"Oh, my God!" a voice cried from the civilians ahead of them. One had turned back and saw the missile they were watching. The Immortals appeared indifferent to it, watching it like a movie unfolding before their eyes. None of them had seen a nuclear explosion before, or at least not over a living and populated target. Yet after all the death and destruction they had seen while serving under Taylor, it was as if it were an expected development.
The missile vanished between the gleaming skyscrapers and the smoke that bellowed from them. They heard a tremor as the explosion ignited, and a bright light flashed before their eyes. Everyone around them ducked for cover and shielded their eyes, but not the Immortals. They watched every second with a morbid curiosity as a deadly fireball engulfed the centre of the city. Many of the buildings collapsed as the impact rocked their foundations, and a dust cloud burst out, forming a thick mist. The remaining towers stood defiantly, but they knew nobody could have survived the blast. One of the last craft still atop a tower crashed into the side of a nearby structure and vanished into the fog.
"I sure hope you have the backing of the President. Because I wouldn't want to be the man who pressed that button without the right authority," said Wirral.
"I was here. They weren't. I'll deal with the consequences of what I have done. I always do."
"Mitch!"
He saw Alita pushing her way through the refugees to try and reach him. He leapt off the vehicle to meet her as she ran into his arms. She was crying, and it wasn't because of happiness.
"It's okay now. We're safe," he said, trying to console her.
She shook her head and pulled back from his grasp, still weeping.
"No it's not...I had to kill a man. A civilian. Or maybe I didn't have to. Maybe I made a mistake..."
"Hey!" he shouted and shook her until she stopped and listened to him.
He didn't want to be the one to tell her he had just ordered the attack which had killed heaven knows how many civilians. Somehow the fact he had done it from afar made it far less a tragedy than her single kill had been.
"You saved lives today, didn't you?"
She nodded.
"And how many would have been lost had you not been here to do your job?"
She shrugged.
"That's right. Plenty. You killed one, saved hundreds. That was a good day."
She seemed to get a little perspective on it and became less hysterical, but still wept as she buried her head in his shoulder.
"It's okay. It's over," he said to comfort her, but he looked up and over her shoulder. More than a dozen of the civilians around them were glaring at him. It was not over for them. Not in their eyes. They had just lost everything, their homes, their city, and likely many of their friends and family. He didn't have the heart to tell them they were lucky to have their lives. They looked ready to tear him apart, as if blaming him for the destruction of their city.
"It'll all be okay," he whispered to Alita.
Chapter 8
"No life remains in the ruins of the once great city if Reno; a beacon of civilisation that was referred to as one of the wealthiest and most desirable cities to live in on Earth. But we are receiving unconfirmed reports that it was not the enemy invaders who destroyed Reno. Not Bolormaa and the Morohta, nor any of their followers. Some people say the nuclear weapon that destroyed Reno was fired from our own Earth defence grid, the defence grid that was one of the most expensive joint building projects in recent history. The question remains. Who destroyed Reno, and why? I am Helena Burrows for Alliance Central News. Good evening, good luck, and may the souls of our fallen citizens find peace."
Taylor threw back his drink and looked out across San Francisco Bay. He had left behind his armour, but remained in uniform with his sidearm and Assegai at his side.
"This was a hell of a plan, Sir," said Antos. He sat down at the table with two shot glasses, one in each hand and both for himself.
Taylor didn't share his positivity, but he didn't respond. Many of their unit sat about the bar. Alita was in the chair next to him, looking as mindful and sad as he did.
"They are going to blame you for this, aren't they?" she asked.
"Most probably."
"It's not fair. You had no choice. It had to be done."
Taylor just took another sip of his drink.
"So what now?" Jones asked who was on his other side.
"Rest of the enemy attacks have been suppressed. We are off the line for a little while. Until the next disaster strikes," replied Taylor.
"Colonel Mitch Taylor?" a firm voice called.
He turned around, leaned back against the veranda fence, and sipped casually from his drink.
"Yeah, who wants to know?"
A man in a suit stood there. He was seemingly unarmed, but at his back were six armoured soldiers. Or what seemed to be soldiers. They wore no insignia. They looked well trained, but bore no sign of the scars of war that the rest of them did. Their gear was as spotless as the first man's suit. Pinstripe and cut with perfection. He wore a white shirt and dull blue tie, strictly business. He looked of South American descent and had dark tanned skin. His eyes were a piercing blue, and he seemed to stare as if that gave some gravity to his presence.
"I have orders to take you directly to the President of the Alliance."
Antos slammed his shot glass down and arose before the man. Several others of the unit closed ranks. Antos stood almost a head taller, and Babacan paced up behind the others in an intimidating fashion.
"What does he want with the Colonel?" Antos demanded.
"Let him through," said Taylor.
He was the only one among the Immortals who still looked calm and collected. The others were ready to draw weapons and start shooting. And yet the civilian dressed man did not flinch. He had an air of confidence, perhaps even arrogance about him. It was understandable, as clearly he held some substantial authority.
"I'm Taylor. What d'you want?" he asked sternly.
"My name is Vargas, and the President has sent me to personally escort you to him for a debriefing on your recent actions."
He was certainly some sort of secret service agent or equivalent. He held himself confidently and moved like he knew how to handle himself, but he was no soldier, nor sailor.
"And what if he doesn't want to go?"
Taylor gestured for Antos to back down.
"It's okay. I'll go with you...Vargas."
"Not alone," stated Jones, stepping up beside him, and Alita followed suit.
"As you wish," replied Vargas. He stepped aside and beckoned for Taylor to follow him.
Taylor looked to Fry who anticipated some final orders.
"Get back to the Guam and await further instructions."
"And if the ship is ordered elsewhere?"
"The ship is under my command. Nobody says otherwise but me."
"Yes, Sir."
The three were led away with an armed escort in front and behind. It wasn't the most comforting of feelings.
"You enjoy your work?" Taylor asked.
"I am just doing my job, Colonel. Satisfaction comes from seeing the results of my work."
One of those, tows the party line, and can't take a joke. Great!
"So where are we heading?" Jones asked.
"That is classified."
"Come on, this is bullshit. You expect us to just be dragged along wherever you fancy?"
But Mitch laid his hand on Alita's shoulder to stop her as Vargas continued.
"The Alliance expects much of us all, and the President is in charge of the Alliance. He asks any one of us to go somewhere, and yes, I expect those orders to be followed. Perhaps if others followed the orders of their superiors, we would not be in our current situation."
"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?" Taylor asked.
Vargas stopped.
"Go on, say it. Cut the bullshit out, and tell me what you are really thinking."
"You have an attitude problem, Colonel. You always have done. And you get people killed because you think you know best."
“Have a little respect,” snapped Alita, “You know Colonel Taylor has done more than anyone alive to protect this world.”
“Yes, I am aware of the Colonel’s history,” replied Vargas calmly, “But it would be rather rash to attribute success in a war to one man, don't you think?”
“Clearly you haven’t read your history books,” muttered Jones.
“But I have, Captain. Never assume for a moment that because you achieve victory that you did it the best way. You can lose ten times as many souls in a battle than you needed to and still win. That does not make for a great leader.”
“And I suppose you know what does?”
“I wouldn’t presume to know, Colonel. I analyse, I plan, I predict, and I shoot for the best results for everyone that must be affected by such decisions.”
“A stat man, great. Just what we need to win a war.”
Vargas would not be intimidated nor upset.
“But that is precisely what a war is, Colonel. Statistics. Number of soldiers, number of ships, number of casualties, balance one in favour of the other and find victory. Balance poorly and there's failure.”
“People aren’t numbers on a page.”
Vargas sighed.
“No, they are not, and that is what you will have to answer for. Reno was not full of numbers and statistics, but people. People with friends and families who will want answers as to why their loved ones didn’t make it out alive.”
“I guess you’d better go ask the enemy about those numbers, then!”
“It’s okay, Alita,” said Taylor.
They soon reached a landing lot and climbed aboard a lavishly expensive, but unmarked ship. The three of them took a seat in sumptuous armchairs. They were still armed, but they very much got the sense they were not free to go if they chose. Vargas’ bodyguards watched them like hawks, as the man himself took a seat opposite. Taylor already knew he would hate this man. He was the worst of the spin-doctors and paper pushers. An armchair general, but even Taylor knew he must abide by the laws of the Alliance. He pushed boundaries when he needed to, but nobody need get hurt here.
Taylor opened his mouth to ask a question of Vargas, but he stopped, knowing it was a waste of time. Instead, he hit the recliner switch, lay back down in the leather chair, and closed his eyes. Vargas shook his head at how quickly and easily Taylor was able to almost pass out into a comatose state. That at least brought a smile to Jones and Alita's faces.
"How can he sleep after all he has done?" Vargas asked one of his team.
He thought he had been quiet enough for them not to hear, but he had no such luck.
"How can you sleep at night after how little you have done?" she asked him.
Vargas did not respond. He knew he was wasting his time just as much as Taylor had realised. He got up and moved further along the ship so as to be out of hearing distance.
"That's right you little creep," said Alita.
"Best not anger these people. They can only do us harm," replied Jones.
"Yeah? And sometimes, someone needs to say something. Taylor taught me that."
"Yes, and Taylor frequently lands himself in the crap as a result."
"And always comes out smelling sweet."
Taylor wasn't quite yet asleep and smirked just a little before finally nodding off.
* * *
"Mitch...Mitch?"
He was ripped from his sleep and jolted up as if expecting a fight, but all he found was Alita by his side.
"We're here."
The door of the ship was opening and their armed escort awaiting them. Not even the landing had woken him from his deep sleep. He realised now how much he had needed it.
"Come on. We've got to go."
He rubbed his eyes and got to his feet. He wasn't going to like what was coming next. He stepped out onto the ramp. The light outside wasn't from daylight at all, but long lengths of strip lighting running along the roof of a concealed landing bay. He imagined they were below the surface in a well-armoured bunker.
"Well, this is new," said Jones.
They were led to the end of the docking bay where four guards stood protecting a steel door. It was little over the height of a man and just as wide and already open. It was half a metre thick and able to withstand an incredible amount of force.
"Your weapons," stated a guard.
Alita looked to Taylor in shock.
"Nobody but authorised personnel goes beyond this point with weapons about their body," Vargas said from behind them.
Still Alita looked to Taylor for confirmation.
"I guess killing a few thousand of the enemy doesn't prove loyalty anymore, but having the right piece of paper does?" Taylor asked him.
"Protocol, we all must follow it, Colonel. A fact that you seem to have lost track of."
Taylor felt himself getting angrier inside. He wanted nothing more than to grab Vargas by the throat, although any violence enacted upon him would only give weight to his argument. He saw Alita's right hand edge towards the grip of her pistol. Not to hand it over, but to draw.
"Give them up. This asshole is just trying to make us out to be the warmongers he wants to paint us as."
He turned and smiled at Vargas as he said it, and glad to see it cut deep into the man's soul. He was using his own methods against him, and finally there was a little anger in his eyes. He had sparked a nerve.
"Come on, move it. The President is waiting," he snapped, attempting to hide his bitterness. They each laid out their weapon belts on a shelf beside the door and proceeded to go inside with Vargas leading the way. They passed through yet another set of security until the narrow corridor opened out into a conference hall. The President was sitting at the far end with one of his aids and a General, but there was no one else to be seen.
"Colonel Taylor and two of his officers," Vargas stated.
His tone was disparaging and disrespectful, but Taylor let it go. They strode up the centre of the room into what was a mouth of a vast horseshoe table with seating for a hundred officials. Three chairs were laid out in the centre, as if an interrogation had been planned for them.
"Take a seat," said the President in a formal manner.
Taylor didn't want to. He already sensed they were being boxed in, but he obliged and took the middle seat. His comrades took his flanks. The President just looked at the three of them for a few moments before taking a deep breath and sighing.
"Colonel Taylor, you and I both know why you are here."
"Because we got a shit job done in the only way we could."
He shook his head.
"This is not a foreign world, Colonel. Reno was not some distant land with savage occupants that nobody cares for. My deputy's daughter was in that city for Lord's sake!"
"And I hope she made it out."
"Hope? Colonel, you launched a tactical nuclear weapon at a civilian target from a defence grid built at much expense to defend this world! Did you have authorisation from anyone to do such a thing? Because if you did, I need to know names."
"This was my decision, and mine alone."
"Then you must pay the.." the President went on.
But Taylor leapt out from his seat and rushed forward, slamming his fist down on the deep table that divided them.
"I'll be damned if you or anyone else expects me to apologise for that. I am sorry that people have lost their loved ones, but don't blame us. Don't blame our people, not a single one among us. Let's not forget who caused this. It was not a civilian target. Do you know how many enemy combatants had overrun that city? Thousands. Thousands! Barbaric troops that would have soon overrun the refugees fleeing the city outskirts, and they would have reached other population centres soon enough."
The President sighed.
"Sit back down!" Vargas commanded.
Taylor looked at him scornfully and turned back to the President.
"What am I to do with you, Colonel?"
"What I am best at, Mr President. Let me keep doing my job."
Isaacs was shaking his head. Taylor sat back down. He wasn't sure of any other way of making it right.
I know I’m in the right, but they just can't seem to see it.
"Taylor, you are a vital asset in this war. None of us are under any illusions of that fact, but I cannot keep you on active duty."
"Cannot? You are the President, you can do whatever the hell you want, Sir."
He shook his head.
"Only while I have the support of world leaders. Many see a close link between us, and there are rumours of a vote of no confidence in my administration."
"Nice to know you have your priorities in order. Covering your own ass," snarled Taylor.
"I can't do anything if I am deposed. Right now I count you among my allies, and I hope you do the same. I will call on you soon enough, when I can."
"And that might be too late. There is a war on, Sir, and that is not going to stop anytime soon. Not until we make it stop."
"I agree with you, but my hands are tied, Colonel. You made a tough call, and most people don't believe it was the right one."
"And you? What do you believe, Sir?"
He took in a deep breath and was weary of answering.
"I see, that's how it's gonna be."
"Look, Colonel, I have had calls from more than a dozen world leaders asking for your incarceration. Most of my advisors have recommended the same."
"I am sure they have." He gave an accusing eye towards Vargas.
"I am sorry, Colonel, but this is out of my hands. Your unit is being taken off the line. They deserve a break, anyway. Rest and recuperate, and keep your head down until this has blown over."
"Blown over? Mr President, you need to get out there and make people understand that this was the right call. We just saved God knows how many lives. If you don’t, you will undermine all our efforts.
"There is nothing more I can do for you, Colonel. Now, I have a lot more work to get done, if you will excuse me."
Taylor stood up, but he did not leave. He rushed forward towards the President's position once again. Vargas' team were quick to come forward with their guns pointing right at him, but he ignored them.
"Stop!" President Isaacs shouted at them.
The room fell silent as Taylor was allowed to speak.
"You're making a big mistake. You'll regret this. Trust me."
The President seemed to agree, but had nothing more to say. Taylor strode out with Alita and Jones close behind.
"Fucking asshole," Taylor muttered.
It was loud enough for the guards to hear as they stepped out of the main doors, but he didn't seem to care.
"You're going to take this?" Alita asked.
"We don't have a choice," added Jones.
"Of course we do."
Taylor was silent.
"We do, don't we?" she asked him.
"Not now. We cannot go up against this."
"That's right. You can't." Vargas was following close behind to ensure they boarded their craft.
"You murdered those people in Reno, and in time, I will ensure that you pay the price for your crimes."
Taylor had nothing to say. He would just be wasting words on the man. He ignored him entirely and took a seat aboard the craft, finally turning to Alita.
"They can't do this to us? Not after all that we have done. How can they be so ungrateful?"
"Because they only see numbers on a page. If we had let that city fall and all its inhabitants die, then they would be asking why we failed. Can't please everyone," he said and gestured towards Vargas, "And with creeps like that around, we will surely not have seen the worst of this yet. He means to destroy us."
"Why? What the hell is his problem?"
"He's a machine. A calculator. And we are living, breathing hot-blooded fighters. We don't conform to his plan."
"So what do we do?"
"For now, we do just what is asked of us. If people really believe we caused this, then there is nothing we can do to change their minds. All we can do is wait for the next disaster, when they will come calling. Because they know they need us. Just hope the day never comes when we see peace. We would be behind bars quicker than you can imagine."
"Is that the reality of it? That we must keep fighting just to stay free?"
"Yep," he replied cynically.
She looked to Jones for confirmation, but he was clearly on the same page.
"You know how many times I have seen this before? This is why I have never been any good at living in peace. I have been made the weapon I am. Sealed away for hundreds of years behind a glass seal that read 'break only in case of war.'"
She looked distressed by his words.
“There is more, you know.”
He wrapped his arms around her, knowing that in some ways she was right.
“Don’t you worry, this will all be resolved in time.”
He sat back in his seat. Jones was opposite and looked exhausted by it all.
“So that is it? We stand down? The whole unit?”
“Every action each of makes forms the reputation we have, and at present the people oppose us. We can’t help those who don’t want to be helped.”
“That’s crap. It has never stopped you in the past.”
“And what can we do from behind bars? You forget I know what that is like, seeing everything around me go to shit while I rot in a cell. I won’t let that happen again, not to any one of us. We sit this out for a bit. We stay ready and prepared for when the time is right.”
“And if Vargas has his way that could be never.”
“Trust me.”
Jones wasn’t so sure, and he could see Alita shared his concerns, but they didn’t want to talk about it anymore, not with Vargas and his goons so close to hand.
There was no sleep for any of them as they were transported out of the bunker and to a location that nobody would disclose to them. They were not allowed any windows open on the ship, and that at least was understandable. The location of the President’s bunker was a secret that needed to be closely guarded. None of them even checked the time. They had accepted that they were powerless for now. Eventually, Alita broke the silence.
“We’re coming in to land.”
The subtle changes of flight were something missed by the other two, but sure enough they touched down soon afterwards. Before the door opened they had Vargas lurking over them once again.
“You and your team are to remain on this island until such time as you receive orders otherwise. Your wounded have been moved to the local medical facilities, and further information will be sent to you shortly. You may maintain possession of your equipment and continue to carry out training exercises. However, you are forbidden to leave the island for any reason. You may not attempt to join in any combat, except in self-defence of this island. Those are your orders. Break these and you will find yourself on a charge, and behind bars soon after.”
“And for those with families?” Taylor asked, thinking of Jones.
“You may make communications as you wish and arrange for loved ones to come to you. But make no attempt to undermine the President’s orders. You are here until the President says otherwise. Am I understood?”
“Yeah, we got it,” Taylor snarled.
Vargas moved to the door and hit the release. They felt a blisteringly warm breeze blow in, and bright sunshine lit up the cabin.
“Enjoy your time here, Colonel. You might even like it, and feel blessed that you have been given such liberties, for I would not extend them to you.”
Taylor smiled. He was starting to realise how little Vargas had gotten his way. He stopped for one last line to Vargas.
“When the shit hits the fan, know that we’ll always be there to bail you out.”
Vargas looked a little surprised as if he had expected some witty insult.
“I just pray this mistake doesn’t cost the Alliance too many lives,” Jones said as he passed the man. Alita just glared at him. They stepped out of the craft to find beautiful blue skies and palm trees. The air was fresh, and there was no sign that any war had reached the place in hundreds of years. It was paradise.
“Where are we?” Jones asked.
“Hawaii,” replied Alita confidently.
Plenty of craft filled the skies, but nothing like a big city. Taylor hadn’t felt anything like it in years. The humidity of Reno had not been the same, and the threat of death somewhat diminished any such possible feeling, but Taylor was frozen.
“What is it?
“Nothing. It’s just beautiful, isn’t it?”
She didn’t believe him, and he knew why.
I remember back when I brought Eli here. Those fond memories don’t seem so long ago to me, and they make me feel distant towards Alita. Shit, that’s a dreadful thought! I can’t change things, but it still bothers me that Coco was left to live and die alone. At least when I look at Jones, I see her eyes and strength within him.
“You okay?”
Alita looked worried about him also.
“So strange, isn’t it?”
“What?”
“That such beautiful places still remain unspoilt by war. They seem to outlive us all.”
That didn’t help. They both looked at each other out of genuine concern for Taylor.
“I think you could do with a drink,” said Jones.
“That’s the only good thing I have heard said all day,” he replied and snapped out of the daze he was in. The engines roared at their backs and kicked up dust all around them.
“So what’s next?”
“Next?” Jones asked her.
“Yeah, we’re not just gonna sit around here and let them have their way, are we?”
“We have no choice,” Taylor said sternly and went forward.
They had been dropped in a civilian area of the island, and that said a lot. They had no contact with the military base on the islands.
“Hey, it’s not all bad,” added Jones, “I always wanted to come here.”
“We aren’t on vacation,” replied Alita.
“That’s exactly what we are on. A hiatus until the next shit storm comes, and they realise they need us.”
“Surely not? They wouldn’t be crazy enough to leave us out of this until it gets that bad?”
“Yep, this is the kind of shit I have had to deal with a hundred times before.”
“That’s crap. You slapped the President down and put him in his place once. You overthrew the Cholan Emperor, don’t tell me you are just going to fold now?”
But he said nothing. So she reached forward and grabbed his shoulder, tugging him around so that he had no choice but to address her.
“What do you want from me?” he demanded.
She sighed and spoke quietly, “Hope.”
“Yeah, well hope just took a beating today.”
He threw her hand off and brushed past her. She rushed on by his side, wanting to stop him once more, but saw Jones chasing them and shaking his head not to. They followed him. He was heading for the nearest beach.
As the sea came into view, he looked for the nearest bar and spotted a dozen of their people lying about beside it. Bailey was among them and leapt to her feet as he approached.
“Colonel, what are we doing here? It’s like we’ve been banished to this place.”
“That about sums it up, yep.”
He went straight up to the bar.
“Give me a drink!”
“What can I get you?” the smiling barman asked.
“Anything.”
He reached into his pockets as if to find some money and realised he had none.
“You’re Mitch Taylor, aren’t you?”
What now?
His back straightened and his fists clenched, as if he expected to have to defend himself, but the man reached forward with his hand over the bar in friendship.
“Do you mind if I shake your hand?”
He took it in surprise.
“You’ll never pay for a drink here, not you or any of your unit.”
“Appreciated, but you won’t want to extend that offer, or you’ll be out of business by tomorrow. This lot will drink you into poverty.”
The man laughed.
“No, no, you won’t,” he replied confidently, “I work this bar because I love it. I always get to meet new people, but I own another twenty on these islands and across the water. The name is Kai Hale.”
The man passed him a huge glass filled with fruit and straws. It looked silly to him, but he took it gladly. He was just relieved to not be faced with bitter and twisted bureaucrats.
“So what brings you here? Don’t you have men and women to train and a war to organise?”
Taylor sighed as he took a sip of the drink. It assaulted his taste buds with an array of flavours. It was like nothing he would ever order of his own accord, and yet it was soothing and instantly made him feel better.
“Yes, I do, but some asshole thinks it better to imprison us here. Keep us away from what we do best.”
“Why?”
Taylor sighed once again, and the man laughed.
“It’s okay. I didn’t mean to pry.”
Taylor took another sip.
“So why are you being so nice to us? Forgive me, but it’s not a treatment we are used to right now. For all our hard work, it’s like we get a mouthful and a kick in the ass if we’re lucky.”
“You are the reason I am alive and kicking today, Colonel.”
Taylor was curious and let him go on.
“It is a story that goes back a long way. Many generations ago my family were living in France and about to have a child, when the siege of Paris was at its worst.”
I’m not quite sure when that was. I remember fighting over it more than once, but it doesn’t matter.
“The city was falling. The hospital was being overrun. Not many were making it out, but it was you and your Immortals who fought to get out every last civilian you could. They saw you that day; saw you in person. Helping people to leave the city. Had it not been for you, I would never have existed, nor my parents, nor many generations before them.”
The war in France was such a haze now. He remembered fighting there early in Krys wars, and many times throughout.
I wonder if such a story passed down over generations is even close to accurate, but I’m glad to at least to find someone who appreciates my efforts.
Hale was shaking his head.
“Of all the people I could ever have expected to walk into my bar today, I would bet on anyone but you, Colonel. What an honour,” he said and poured a drink for himself. He saluted Taylor with it and knocked it back.
“So you’ve been sent here as a punishment?”
Taylor nodded, and the man laughed.
“Well, what a prison it is. Sand, sun, and sexy women everywhere you look. Kickback, Colonel and enjoy yourself. You deserve it.”
He was calmer, but he could not relax. He was still furious about how they had been treated.
“This is about Reno, isn’t it?”
Taylor shrugged.
“Okay, okay, I know I shouldn’t pry into military decisions. Sad times I know. All I wanted to say is I know in my heart that you would have done whatever necessary to save as many lives as you could. I know this, and I bet a lot of other folks do.”
“You see; we have plenty of fans.”
Alita took a drink from Hale, and they clashed their glasses together. It was far from a good situation, but at least they could enjoy some time away from the frontline. Several more of the Immortals gathered around. They looked uncertain and uneasy as if awaiting orders to move out at any moment. He needed to get morale back up.
“I know none of us asked for this, but I’ll be damned if we didn’t deserve it. Let’s make the most of it. Now get some drinks down you and enjoy this sunshine while we’ve got it. That’s an order!”
A cry of excitement rang out, and they rushed to the bar to join him.
Chapter 9
“It’s not a bad life, is it?”
Jones sipped from a straw and leant back down onto his sunbed, wearing nothing but shorts. Taylor was dressed the same beside him but didn’t even acknowledge his words. He was deep in thought. So much so, he didn’t even feel the blistering heat on his skin. He wanted back in the fight, and lying around was crushing his soul.
“I said it’s not a bad life, is it!”
“I heard you the first time,” he finally responded calmly.
“I bet you never thought you’d get a chance like this when you were hunkering in the ruins of France or fighting the Krys on some foreign world?”
“Actually I’ve been here before.”
“Really? Doesn’t seem like your kind of place.”
It was true and he knew it. But his time there with Eli Parker had made it special.
“It’s not that I dislike this place. It’s that I can’t sit around idly and enjoy myself when a sword hangs over our heads.”
“Seems like there ain’t nothing hanging over us right now,” added Alita.
“Of course there is. There always is. Bolormaa is out there and no end of her supporters.”
He sat up and looked uncomfortable before finally getting to his feet.
“Where are you going?” she asked.
“To get a drink.”
He wandered back towards the bar. Kai was waiting for him with a big smile. That somehow lifted his mood. It had started to feel like he was the enemy in all this.
“Another of the same?”
Taylor nodded and took a seat beneath the shade of the bar.
A screen behind Kai was on with some news anchor. It didn’t bother him until he saw a religious cult like ceremony. It didn’t look like anything he had ever seen before. People were holding burning torches and stood atop a mountainside, wearing clothing resembling the likes of the Amitads. It was then he spotted a few of the symbols the aliens wore on the clothing of the people.
“What the hell is this?”
‘That? Some crazy whack jobs. Don’t worry about it,” he said as he slid a drink to Taylor.
“It looks worth worrying about, can you turn the sound up a little?”
But Kai shook his head.
“You don’t want to see that, Colonel. It will only rile you up.”
“And so what if it does?”
“Don’t make this any worse than it needs to be. The Alliance will need you before long. No need to go looking for trouble.”
Taylor looked suspicious, and he was starting to see that there was a lot more to Kai than there first seemed.
“So you aren’t just a friendly face?”
He could tell Taylor had seen right through it.
“You’re here just to spy on us and keep us in order? Fuck me, and here’s me thinking we actually had a few friends in the world.”
He picked up his drink and walked away from the bar, but Kai ran after him.
‘Wait!”
Taylor did not stop, so Kai caught up with him and pulled him around. Taylor did not need to say a word. He just gave a murderous glare into his eyes.
“Nothing I told you was a lie.”
“And why should I believe you, or even care?”
“Because there are still plenty who care about you, Colonel. It’s true that I was told to keep an eye on you. Keep you calm and comfortable, but it’s not the reason I did it. That story about my family, that was all true. I swear on my own life that it was.”
Taylor looked back. Jones and Alita were on their feet and ready to come to his aid, but he nodded for them to stay where they were.
“Colonel, I never meant to mislead you. Please, come and take a seat. I will tell you anything you want to know. Or everything I can.”
“Why? Why would you do that for me?”
“Because I respect you, and because I know the world needs you. I am just a helping hand along the way.”
Taylor’s suspicions seemed to melt away. For some reason he believed Kai. Maybe his story was true. Either way, Taylor was curious enough that he wanted to go back to the bar where the news story was playing. The two of them took a seat once more, and Kai turned up the volume. Taylor watched in horror as human beings on screen prayed and worshipped. Not to a god, but to Bolormaa herself. He could hardly believe what he was seeing as a reporter interviewed one of them.
“We’re here to spread the word of peace. Peace amongst all nations in the universe. Bolormaa is the most magical of beings, a God in her own right. Whatever gods may or may not exist in this lifetime, we live and breathe in a day when we can reach out and talk to one of them. Bolormaa and the Morohta are clearly an ancient and highly evolved culture that we must have so much to learn from.”
“Can you believe this crap?” Kai asked as the reporter retorted.
“But how can you explain the violence we have seen from the Morohta? They are responsible for hundreds of thousands of deaths, maybe more.”
“The Morohta did nothing more than any one of the races in the Alliance would have done, and have done. Defend themselves. Now it is clear that we have awakened a long dormant culture. And what have they awoken to find? Cultures that have been at each others throats, and even upon meeting one of them for the first time, they were attacked. Look at the mercy of the Morohta towards the Cholans. They did not exterminate their culture and lay waste to their lands. They accepted them and sided with them to protect against the rest of us. The warmongering races of the Alliance, with a savage animal at the helm.”
“I presume you are talking about Colonel Mitch Taylor, who has been so prevalent during the war so far?”
“This is no war. This is a misunderstanding, and the sooner we can prove to her magnificence Bolormaa that we want nothing but peace and prosperity, the safer we will all be. It is futile and suicidal to walk any other path.”
“Turn it off,” Alita said, stepping up beside him.
Kai obliged and shut off the transmission.
“You should know better than to listen to your critics. How many times have you told me that?”
He nodded as he sipped in his drink.
“Yes, until such time as those critics become dangerous.”
She laughed.
“Dangerous? They are nothing more than new age hippies looking for the latest trend.”
“And yet they have gotten their agenda onto the international stage.”
“You think anyone will believe them?”
“Yes, I do. People will cling onto any hope of peace they can get. Any chance of getting passed the death, destruction, and misery this war will bring. Look at it.” He pointed to the view out to sea.
“Wouldn’t you want to hold on to any hope of living with this day-to-day than going back onto the frontline?”
“You don’t?”
Taylor shook his head and grimaced.
“No, no, I wouldn’t, but maybe you shouldn’t listen to me as much as you do. I am not a model citizen. I am not the thing to shoot for. Hell, I don’t even know what I enjoy in life anymore. Anyone else in the Alliance would be ecstatic to have a vacation here. I’m fucked up in the head, you hear? I serve a purpose. I am a warrior, nothing more.”
“That’s not true,” she said, laying a hand on his forearm, and he felt the warmth of her touch, “I know it’s not true, or you would not be able to love like you do.”
“Love?”
“Yes. Love.”
“You are sounding like one of those lunatics on TV.”
She wouldn’t let it go and pointed out to their people enjoying the sun on the beach.
“You love them, as comrades. You love me, and you cannot deny it. Maybe not as much as you loved Eli and Coco, but enough to make it worth fighting for.”
He felt a little ashamed. He could tell she knew how strong his feelings remained for the women he had lost and left in his own time. But her hand still remained on his arm.
“Don’t feel bad about that. It is what makes you human and everything that you are. Every flaw and weakness mixed in with strength. You don’t know how to do things in half measures. You love, live, and fight with everything you have to give. It is what makes you so unique. You aren’t like any officer I’ve ever known, or any leader. You live down here with the rest of us. You slog through the mud and then throw it to the top. I doubt there ever will be anyone like you. We believe in you, and that’s what matters.”
It nearly brought a tear to his eyes, but he would never let that happen. So he threw back his drink and slid the glass across the bar to Kai for a refill. He got up and grabbed Alita, lifting her up and kissing her with such passion and emotion. He had no shame or care in the world for who was watching or what they thought. It was as if he had just been shot with adrenaline. He pulled back, but still held her in his arms.
“You still believe in me?”
“Always.”
That’s so much what I needed to hear. I’ve always gone with my gut, but sometimes I’ve stood back and wondered if I had really done the right thing.
“You make tough calls. Decisions you are forced to make because you lead from the front and then have to live with the consequences. That makes people uneasy. You rub peoples noses in it, who cares? So some religious fanatics want to burn you at the stake? Are you going to let them?”
“No,” he murmured.
“No, you’d have their heads if they dared try. So buck up! We’re stuck here for a little while, but you know it won’t be for long, and for God’s sake let’s fight back. It doesn’t have to be with bullets and blades.”
* * *
“I am Sienna Mitchells and welcome to ANN. We have a special here for you tonight. The debate rages on whether we should continue to prepare for war against the Morohta and their Queen Bolormaa, or should we submit and seek peace? Here tonight we have a very special guest joining us from Hawaii, Colonel Mitch Taylor himself. Considered by many to be the most important officer in the Alliance, and a proponent of defence and aggression. Also joining us tonight is Jonathan Weir, a representative from the PAAC movement. That is the recently founded Peace At All Costs organisation we have been hearing so much about. So, Colonel, we have heard a lot recently from Mr Weir and his peers. What do you think of their attempt to seek peace with Bolormaa?”
Taylor looked stern and confident. He was glad he didn’t share a room with Weir. He already wanted to rip his throat out before they’d even shared a word.
“Bolormaa is a bully. We know this because it is not the first time that factions within the Alliance have encountered her. Well-documented accounts from the Aranui outline her cruelty and violent nature in detail. She wants nothing more than to destroy us. Whether than means our absolute destruction, or submission into slavery, I cannot tell you. But I guarantee that you will not like what comes next if you bow down to this bitch.”
Sienna opened her mouth to condemn his obscenity, but she could not get a word out as Weir leapt into the fray.
“And how do you know this, Colonel? Have you met the Queen? Have they explained their agenda? Have you ever given the Morohta the chance for peaceful discourse? No, you have not.”
“Actually, I believe my good friend Lieutenant William Jones, who first encountered the Morohta, did indeed approach peacefully and without ill will. And yet he lost many friends to the Morohta that day. What would you say to the families of those service men and women who lost their lives?”
“I would say I am so very sorry, and that we are doing everything we can to ensure that such a loss of life is not seen again in our lifetimes. Something that remains impossible while you continue to wage war.”
Taylor could barely believe what he was hearing, but Sienna finally joined in with the conversation. She was clearly improvising a little, and that was hardly surprising. It had quickly become a more heated debate than she was accustomed to.
“Okay, so we have a number of citizens who have questions for the both of you.”
She pressed a few keys, and a man in his fifties was projected before them.
“This is Willie Pollard from Texas, and he has a question for Mr Weir.”
Willie was grey for his age and seemed to stare down Weir for a moment before addressing him.
“You are attacking a war hero that has defended this country and this world with his blood, and even his own life. What have you ever given up? You trumped up loser! Go and get a job, and leave good folk to do what they do best. You don’t even deserve to…”
The signal was cut off.
“Well, I have to apologise for that caller’s behaviour…” began Mitchells.
But Taylor had heard enough.
“Hey? Do you want to hear people’s views on this show, or do you just want to paint your own picture?” he demanded.
Mitchells looked uncomfortable.
“I am sorry, Colonel, but we cannot allow hostile callers on this programme.”
“You want to talk about a subject that people feel passionate about. You are happy to have me insulted by a religious fanatic, but the opposing argument gets shut down? I hardly think that is fair and balanced reporting, do you?”
She stuttered as she tried to find her words, but Weir came to her rescue.
“Come on, Colonel. Let’s not make this personal. We differ politically. I respect you as a man and for all the work you have done, but that doesn’t make you right in this. You have gone off the reservation, and somebody needs to rein you in. You are running us into oblivion.”
Taylor shook his head in despair.
“And you know Bolormaa will accept you and all your cronies? You think she will thrown open her arms and live in peace, do you?”
“No, we do not know. Just as you do not know that she wants to destroy us. What we believe is that peace is worth a chance, more than a chance. It is worth fighting for, even worth dying for if necessary. How many more lives have to be lost before you understand that?”
“You speak of what you are willing to give, and yet you never have. Bolormaa will come, and she will destroy all that she wishes, some of us, most of us, maybe all of us. I am not willing to step aside and let somebody else choose our fate. Not someone so sick and evil, because that is what she is. She is no queen. She is a savage creature who needs to be put down like the monster she is. And the more that people like you support her, the weaker we will be. I am just glad the fate of the human race lies in better hands than yours.”
Taylor got up and walked out of the view range of the camera feed. He heard Weir ranting as he left. He stepped out of the door of the room and stopped to take a deep breath as he tried to calm himself.
“Well that went well,” said Jones.
He found the Lieutenant smiling back at him.
“Hey, I said I would give it a shot. I never said I was a public speaker.”
"You did great," said Alita.
He looked beaten.
"No, you can't reason with people like that. They shouldn't even be allowed airtime. That asshole could do more damage on TV than ten divisions of Morohta warriors."
"I am sure people aren't naive enough to fall that drivel," said Alita.
"Then you don't know people well enough. Weir is giving them a way out, a way to do nothing. To not have to work hard, not have to fight, and to slacken off. That is a very appealing idea to a great many people."
"But it's not an option at all. Bolormaa will come here and kill or enslave them all."
"Yes, but the fantasy he is peddling. It doesn't matter how true it is, only that people believe it."
"So what do we do?" Jones asked.
Taylor shrugged. "If I knew the answer, then I would already have done it. We can only hope that I got through to at least enough people to make a difference."
"You don't seem convinced?"
"I have just seen all this shit before. It's far easier to do nothing than something."
"What if they are right, though?"
"What do you mean?"
"What if Weir's assessment is right? We did awaken the Morohta from a long dormant state. Perhaps they feel threatened. Maybe they never wanted this war anymore than we did?"
Taylor laughed.
"Really? Not you, too. You have seen what the Morohta are capable of. They have no interest in peace and negotiations. They have had plenty of opportunities for that if they really wanted it."
"I'd just like to think we have exhausted all other possibilities, because we both know how difficult this war is going to be to win, and even in victory the price will be higher than anyone can imagine."
"I can imagine quite a bit."
"Just promise me we are doing this for the right reasons. To survive, and not just because you don't know any other way but to fight."
His words were worrying him. Weir's assessment of his first encounter with the Morohta had gotten to Jones.
"You listen to me. The Morohta have had every chance under the sun to end this. They fired first after not being threatened in any way. They attacked us without reason. Hell, they attacked the Cholans without ever having encountered them before. Don't fall for that fanatic’s bullshit. He is making you doubt what we are doing, and that doubt can get you killed."
Jones seemed to agree, but his confidence had taken a beating.
"So what now?"
"That was a start, Alita, but we need to keep at it. More interviews, we must make our voice heard louder than that toxic asshole."
"I thought you hated all this PR stuff?"
"I do, more than anything, but I am also willing to do what needs to be done. Tomorrow we go back at it, and we aren't going to pull any punches. Tonight we rest and we talk about how we move forward, and tomorrow we go back to the ANN with a story that will tip the balance in all this. Come on, we have much to talk about."
The day and night passed quickly as they exchanged ideas over drinks at the beachfront that had become their new home, but the next day was soon upon them. It was 9am local time. Taylor stood looking out to sea, contemplating all that he was about to tell the world.
"It's time."
Alita was smiling at him. He was fresh and felt ready to take on the world. And yet he was doing so without armour, and not a weapon to hand but his sidearm. He shouldn't even be carrying that, but nobody dared ask for it.
"You ready for this?"
The three of them walked on to the ANN news station for his interview to be done in person with one of the agency’s news anchors. As they reached the door, they found two armed guards that they must pass.
"Your weapons, please," one of them stated.
"Really?"
"Alliance rules."
Taylor didn't bother arguing. He had no energy for it. His mind was focused on just one thing. He drew out his pistol and fed it into a slot in the wall, where it was passed to more security officials inside. The guards looked at them from head to toe as if they wanted to pat them down, but Taylor walked past without stopping, and they didn't press the matter.
"You happy with this now?"
He shrugged.
"Alita, I'll make it work."
"You know they could throw anybody at you, right? It could be Weir again."
"Yeah. It's a fight. I get it. You can't always know what is going to come at you, but if you stand your ground and fight like hell, you can make it through."
"You never were much of a politician, were you?" Jones joined in.
"Never wanted to be. I'd rather leave the talking and backstabbing to someone else, but who is there? Separatist elements are trying to tear us apart. Weaken us from within. I wouldn't be surprised if Morohta agents themselves are behind it all, and gullible people have simply been drawn in along the way."
"That's a pretty cynical assessment."
"It's just a theory, but tell me you don't think it's plausible?"
Jones seemed to dwell on it for a moment, as if it made him question the doubt Weir had sewn.
"That's right, not always so simple, is it?"
They passed a number of staff hurriedly running about the studio entirely ignoring them. They finally reached a woman in a suit who was waiting to greet them.
"Ah, Colonel Taylor, thank you so much for coming in. I am Sana Andrews. I run the station here. Please, come with me."
She was a sharp dresser, clearly confident and older than she looked. She led them to the studio set where to their surprise they found Sienna Mitchells waiting for the interview.
"What? What the hell is she doing here?"
"Sienna? After your last interview there were widespread calls to get you back on air, and Sienna is our star. She is the most highly regarded and loved news anchor on Earth."
Taylor was well aware of the fact, and that’s what made him suspicious. Sana turned to the other two.
"Please, if you'll follow me to the control room, you can watch from there with me. You'll be getting front row seats to one of the hottest debates on Earth."
She looked genuinely excited, but that did not impress Taylor. He was expecting to make a point, not entertain a crowd. As the others were led away, he approached Sienna. She was extremely pretty. As he got closer, she turned and smiled to acknowledge him. She leapt up from her chair to give him a hug and kiss him on the cheek. It was overly friendly, and he wasn't particularly impressed.
"Thank you so much for coming, Colonel," she said still beaming with a huge smile.
He was trying to fathom out whether it was entirely put on, or just partially.
"Not like I had far to go, you came to me," he replied.
"Yes, well, we go where the news is."
"Really? Not like you seem to leave your studio often."
She looked a little embarrassed.
"No, but normally the guests come to us. In this particular case, we were told that it was impossible for you to leave the islands. You didn't give us much of a choice."
"Believe me, if I could leave, I would."
"Oh, really?"
He could tell he was being baited for information now.
"But that is classified information, and it will not be permitted to even be mentioned in any way on air, you hear?"
"Yes...okay."
"You make up any reason you like why you are in Hawaii, but it has nothing to do with me."
"Okay, we are ready to go live in just a few minutes, if you could take your seat."
They both took up positions at the desk before an army of cameras, but just a few crew. Cameras zipped back and forth on tracks along the roof in front of them, and there was a huge digital countdown on the wall in front of them. The room was ten metres square, and as the door shut, it became completely soundproofed. Not even the cameras sliding on their gimbals made a single sound. All he could hear was Sienna's finger tapping the desk in front of her as she mentally prepared herself, much like he would do before combat.
Neither of them said a word as he watched the countdown. Sienna studied some notes before her. When it reached ten seconds, she looked up at the screen and prepared her smile to meet her worldwide audience. It was now dawning on him that he was about to be thrust onto the international stage. It hadn't really struck home before. When he was in a small room on a small video feed, it felt like nothing. But in a studio with the Alliance news agency’s top news anchor, it felt real, and more than a little intimidating. He watched her take a sip from a glass of water. The counter reached its last few seconds, and he knew that was it.
"Hi, I'm Sienna Mitchells, and I welcome you to this Special live from beautiful Hawaii. Joining me here in person today is the man himself, Colonel Mitch Taylor."
He smiled and nodded as she gestured towards him.
"We are here to talk about the ongoing crisis with what has become known as the War to end all Wars."
Taylor smiled just a little, for he had heard that so many times before.
"So, Mitch, you took a bit of a beating from the PAAC representative Jonathan Weir when we had you on air yesterday. Jonathan raised some valid points, and you had some fiery responses yourself, but we were cut a little short. Have you got any message for Mr Weir before we continue?"
"I've got nothing to say to that man. I cannot change the mind of such a mindless zealot. All I can ask is that the general public, all of your viewers, think for themselves. Look at the bloodthirsty path of destruction the Morohta have cut all the way to Earth, and understand that if you want to stay safe, stay alive, and stay free, you must resist this enemy."
"By this enemy you mean Bolormaa, not Mr Weir?" replied Sienna with a smile. She meant it as a light-hearted joke, but Taylor was not amused and carried on before she could get in another word.
"Anyone who fights to diminish the war effort is fighting against us, and should be stopped. Jonathan Weir is a danger to the safety of this planet, and the Alliance altogether. Freedom of speech and a democracy is not a just reason to allow such dissent that it endangers us all. Ask yourselves, when the Morohta savages are in your towns, and in your homes butchering your loved ones, how sympathetic will you feel towards his cause then?"
Sienna looked stunned by his bleak and bloodthirsty assessment.
"I am sorry, Colonel, but there are families out there watching this show. If you could please keep this from becoming gruesome."
"I will not! If people want to bury their heads in the sand and hope for the best, then that is their call. But it is my responsibility, as a free man, to tell all that I can exactly what will happen if we let worms like Weir distract us from the real threat at our door."
She looked shocked to have been shot down by one of her guests, and her confidence was knocked.
"Well...umm...okay, moving on. We are here today to discuss the Alliance's continued stance towards the Morohta. An increasing number of groups and representatives from around the world are calling for peace at any cost. Joining us here today is a key representative and advisor to President Isaacs, Pedro Vargas."
He was projected on a seat opposite Taylor so that it almost seemed he was actually in the room. Taylor felt his fists clench. He had expected some fair and reasonable address to the press, but he knew he wouldn't get it now.
I have to stay calm, or Vargas has already won the debate.
Sienna continued.
"Welcome to both of you. So, Mitch, you believe the only way forward is to meet the enemy with strength. Tell us more about why you think that is the best course of action."
He opened his mouth to speak, but before he could get a word out an explosion rang out, and the door to the room was flung open. Taylor reached for his gun but found an empty holster. Gunfire rang out from beyond the door. A man ran in brandishing an automatic weapon and wearing the cult like clothing associated with the Amitads.
"Death to the warmonger!" cried the man.
He fired a burst of gunfire into the air and then took aim towards Taylor. He looked around for anything to defend himself. He reached for the only thing on the desk, Sienna's half full glass of water. He propelled it across the room with all the force he could. It hit the man in the face, but it did not break. He recoiled backwards and stumbled a few steps. He held down the trigger, and the shots riddled the ceiling.
It was all the time Taylor needed to dart across the room and be on top of his attacker. The gun dropped from his hands, as Taylor landed on top of him and punched him repeatedly to his cloaked face. Each blow struck harder than the last until his fist was covered in blood, and the body lay still.
Jones walked in through the open door. His hands cupped a stomach wound, and he was bleeding profusely. He collapsed down face first just before he reached Taylor. He jumped up to go to the aid of his friend but was stopped in his tracks. Two more gunmen followed through with their rifles trained right on him.
"Get back!" one shouted.
He had no choice but to oblige. They were quite willing to kill for their cause, just as he was for his. He stepped back towards the horrified Sienna who had remained frozen in her chair.
"It's gonna be okay, don't worry," he said to assure her, but they both knew it wasn't that certain.
Alita appeared in the doorway with her hands held high and a third gunman leading with the barrel of his gun. Blood dripped from her swollen mouth where it looked as though she had been struck with the stock of a rifle. She looked apologetic, as if she had failed him. She was led over Jones' body and further into the room.
"Sit down!"
The two of them were forced to take seats beside Sienna.
"Are the cameras still rolling?" asked the masked gunman.
Sienna nodded shakily. She looked terrified.
"I knew you were full of shit," stated Taylor, "You say you want peace, and yet you come to kill."
"It is you who must be stopped, Colonel. You are the man who could single-handedly destroy our civilisation by resisting Bolormaa."
Two of the gunmen moved around to take up position behind Taylor and Alita, as if to act as a firing squad.
"Weir is a coward and a fool, and you are just his pawns," snapped Taylor.
But he soon felt the stock of a rifle club the back of his head. It opened up a deep cut, but he remained conscious as the one gunman stayed ahead of them to address the camera. He could see they didn't have long now.
"Colonel Taylor, you are found guilty of drawing this alliance into a war that has cost the lives of many thousands of Human, Krys, Aranui, and Cholan citizens. You admitted to personally causing the death of thousands of civilians on Reno. You are a menace to society and an obstacle to peace with Bolormaa and the Morohta."
He noticed that the gunman behind Alita had leaned in close to taunt her, but he could not hear what was said. He only noticed a blade drop from her cuff and into her hand. A burst of gunfire rang out. The leader in front of them dropped to the ground beside Jones. He had taken up the rifle of the one Taylor had killed. Alita thrust her knife up into the neck of the man lurking over her, and it cut his windpipe.
Blood burst out over the news desk, and Sienna screamed in terror. Taylor snapped around, grabbed the barrel of the rifle pointing at him, and wrenched it forward. The man managed to keep hold of his weapon but was launched towards Taylor as his gun went off, and a burst of fire struck just millimetres beside Taylor's foot. The gunman hit the edge of the desk neck first and was winded by the impact, but Taylor did not let him off so lightly. He grabbed the material wrapped around the man's head and smashed him down against the edge of the table three times until his head fractured. He then tossed him back down in disgust.
He looked over to Alita. She was fine, just covered in her attacker’s blood. He leapt from his chair to the aid of Jones who had rolled over onto his back and dropped the gun. He was weak, but still breathing.
"We made it," Taylor said, as Alita reached him and applied pressure down on the wound. He felt his blood boiling. He was furious. He strode back to the nearest camera and could see somebody was still managing the broadcast.
"Now you have seen the true colours of Jonathan Weir and the scum that support him. Know that any help you give these terrorists will only weaken us in the coming fight. If you want to go on living as free people, you will withdraw any support for these monsters, and I will show no sympathy for those who do not. Our fighting men and women put everything on the line to protect the security of this alliance, and now one the very best of us lies close to death because of your lack of faith. I won't have it anymore. Know this, if you follow the PAAC, if you enable their ways, if you harbour these terrorists, I am coming for you."
He rushed back to Jones and together he and Alita lifted him. They carried him out of the door. As they left, they heard a shaky Sienna Mitchells finish her broadcast.
"I...I am Sienna Mitchells. Thank you for tuning in. We'll have more...more for you soon."
The corridors were empty now, and they could just make out a few people huddled in corners and under tables. An armed guard lay dead, and they doubted he would be the only one.
"Well, that could have gone better," muttered Jones in a pained and weak voice.
"You said that last time. I thought it went rather well," replied Taylor with a smile.
Chapter 10
Alita sat outside the hospital with Jones’ blood still covering her hands. Her head was slumped in sadness, but Taylor stood watch over her and the doorway with a rifle in hand. A horde of their Immortals rushed towards them for some news. Sergeant Fry was at the head of the column. They stopped when they saw the blood on the two of them.
"Are you all okay?" Fry asked.
Taylor was relieved to see them and thrust the rifle into Fry's arms.
"You stay here and keep watch, and have a squad draw weapons and join you. I want sidearms carried at all times, you hear?" he asked quietly before addressing the rest of them. They eagerly awaited some news.
"Lieutenant Jones has been wounded. I am sure most of you saw the events unfold on the TV. Stay vigilant, for this may not be over yet!"
He looked down at his watch and ran back into the hospital without another word. He rushed to the room where he knew Jones was being cared for. He was already out of surgery and lay still on a bed, his stomach wrapped with compression bandages. He turned to face Taylor as he strode in.
"You see? I told you they'd sort you out."
In all honesty it was a relief, for a moment he had thought they might lose a good friend and officer.
"How are you feeling?"
"Like I took a bullet in the stomach."
Taylor wasn't in much of a light-hearted mood.
"They are going to pay for what they did. We aren't sitting this one out and making stupid interviews any longer. It's time to go on the offensive. It's time to retaliate."
Jones slowly shook his head.
"No, you won't."
"You try and stop me!"
"Please, don't do it. We have enough enemies as it is. We do not need more. The President has ordered us to stay here, and so we must do that."
"So we do nothing? Those assholes walk all over us and nearly kill you, and we do nothing?"
He nodded.
"They made a massive mistake today. Weir has gained power by gaining the support of the people, and this event today will be a blow to that support. Most people don't want to be associated with a terrorist. We have to use that. Go to the President. Go through the right channels."
"Why?"
"Because our public face is everything right now, just as it is for Weir. Go to the President and get him to do the dirty work."
"And you think he will listen to us? Last time we spoke he wasn't exactly our greatest ally."
"And now he might just be a little more sympathetic. Don't pick a fight like you always do. Try to be tactful."
Taylor laughed.
"I have never been that in my life. What do I even ask for?"
Jones was surprised he was asking his advice, but he could see Taylor genuinely accepted that tact was not his strongest attribute, and he was happy to admit it.
"Get him to acknowledge PAAC for what they are, a terrorist organisation, and have him start clamping down on them."
"I'll do what I can. But if this fails, we do it my way."
Jones smiled. "Then I hope it doesn't. Your way is always messy."
Taylor could not deny it.
"It shouldn't be this difficult. We are trying to save lives, and there seems a long line of people who want to stop us. Maybe the citizens of the Alliance want to see it all come crashing down?"
"They want what we all want. They just don't know what's best for them. Good luck."
Taylor put his hand on Jones’ shoulder out of friendship and then stormed out of the room. He was furious, but he was doing everything he could to remain calm. He had to be for all of them. He craved blood and knew where to get it. He wanted to wring Weir's throat, but he thought long and hard about what Jones had said. He had to give it a shot. He came darting out of the hospital to find just the few of their people he had ordered to remain. Alita was still slumped there.
"Is he going to make it?" she asked wearily.
"Jones will be fine. It will take more than a single gunshot and a few fanatics to finish him off."
"So what now?"
"It's time to take this to the President. You're coming with me. Sergeant Fry, have our people on standby. I want them ready for action at a moment's notice. You can bet your ass we are going to see it."
"Yes, Sir."
He left with Alita by his side.
"I need to wash this blood off."
"No, no, you don't,” replied Taylor.
She didn't seem happy with the idea, but she went along with it.
"You want our people ready for combat, but this isn't going to be like anything else we have seen up to this point. We aren't talking about facing savages or aliens, these are people."
"Yeah? I thought that once. You soon get over it. The enemy is the enemy. If they stand in the way of the defence of this planet and the Alliance, then they will fall like any other."
She didn't seem comfortable with the idea at all, but she didn't press it.
"So where are we going?"
"You'll see."
He led her back to where they were first dropped off and stopped as he surveyed all the craft at the landing bay. He seemed particularly interested in one and headed straight for it. A man in a suit was standing guard at the door as if expecting someone. It was an unmarked and pristine shuttle. Taylor strode right up to him.
"What can I do for you?" he asked politely.
"You can take me directly to the President."
"I am sorry. This is a private shuttle."
"Don't bullshit me," he said as he pointed to their ship.
"That ain't no civilian craft. You have covert weapon pods, chaff launchers, and more over, you are packing. Nobody carries concealed weapons around here unless they are either working for the government or a criminal of some sort. So which is it?"
The man looked uncomfortable and unsure how to respond as he began to stutter.
"You know who I am, and I know you are here to keep an eye on us. But you are also fully aware what shit just went down. You're taking us to the President, whether you like it or not," he said as his hand hovered over his sidearm.
"I...I have the authority to request a meeting with the President on your behalf in the event of an emergency situation."
"We were just attacked on an ANN live interview by armed gunmen, and one of my officers now lies seriously injured in the hospital. I'd call that serious, wouldn't you?"
"Do you want me to request an audience with the President?"
"Yeah...you do that," he replied abruptly.
He lowered the door and vanished for a moment.
"We were told to stay put, you know that," said Alita.
"Yes, and that was then. Things have changed. PAAC might just have given us the popularity boost we needed. For once we are the victims in all this."
"So you're playing that card?"
"Whatever gets the job done, yes!"
The man came back out from the shuttle.
"The President has agreed to see you, but you will have to turn over all your weapons to us."
Taylor went forward and climbed aboard.
"Not a fucking chance," he said, and the man didn't dare question him.
* * *
"Welcome, Colonel, I am so glad to see you are..." began the President.
But he stopped when he saw the blood on Alita's hands and over both of their uniforms.
"You must be eager to get cleaned up. I am sure we can find some fresh uniforms and a shower for you."
"Not particularly, we have more pressing matters to discuss with you."
The President looked uncomfortable by their blood soaked attire, and that was precisely what Taylor was hoping for.
"I am told you had vital matters to discuss, what is it I can do for you?"
"This PAAC situation is getting out of hand, and you know it. They are spreading dissent and weakening the Alliance from within."
"People have a right to disagree with us."
"No, this isn't disagreement. This is treason, of the very worst sort, and at the very worst of times. What are you going to do about it?"
"Of course we will condemn all violent activities, but I am sure the men who attacked you are not representative of the PAAC movement, nor endorsed by their leader Jonathan Weir."
"That man is a disgrace to the human race. He is a traitorous dog. You must start detaining pro-Bolormaa supporters immediately, and it must start with him."
"Detain him? This is not a police state, Colonel, thank God."
"Mr President. Jonathan Weir and his kind ARE the enemy. They support the enemy, they enable them, and they weaken our cause and the war effort that is needed if we are going to survive this. You must act now. Arrest Weir, and stop his ludicrous campaign before it goes too far."
The President was shaking his head.
"I cannot, and I will not. I may not agree with Weir and what he is doing, but he has so far done so in a peaceful manner. His voice must be heard, like it or not."
Taylor couldn't believe his ears, and he could see Vargas lurking in the background with a wicked grin on his face. It was the most emotion he had ever seen from the man.
"You're making a big mistake, and I just pray it doesn't destroy us."
"Colonel, the Alliance needs good fighters. It needs you and your Immortals. I am reinstating you. I want you to act as a reactionary force to combat terrorist actions such as you witnessed."
He could see the President was effectively buying his support with a bribe in order to get him to stop pushing.
That means he’s scared, but I am willing to take it. However things go down, I want to be in the middle of it and doing my best for the Alliance and for my world.
"Thank you, Sir."
"But, Taylor, you will answer to me. You will not engage unarmed targets, and you will go nowhere near Jonathan Weir until the day he brandishes a weapon and threatens the citizens of the Alliance, you hear me?"
"Yes, Sir," snarled Taylor.
"Good. You will be sent alerts if and when you are needed. Believe me, if you are needed, I will not hesitate to get you involved. I am well aware of your abilities. Now if you excuse me, I have work to do."
A number of screens flashed to life around him as communication channels were opened. They were shown out of the door by security.
"Well, that went well," said Alita.
Taylor shrugged. "It went okay."
"So what now?"
"We wait."
He smiled as he imagined what Vargas' face would look like right now as they climbed aboard their shuttle.
"You know I'll never get used to being flown by someone else," said Alita as they lifted off.
"Me neither."
That brought a smile to her face.
"So we wait? Where?"
"Hawaii isn't such a bad place to be. If we can get our Stormers on the ground there, then we might as well use it as our base of operations while we remain on Earth."
* * *
Taylor once again found himself sitting at the bar before Kai.
"Something soft," he stated.
He saw Jones approaching. He was a little slower than usual, but already a long way to being recovered from his injuries.
"Out so soon?"
"Like you'd let them keep you there any longer," he joked.
"Damn right. Hospital is the last place in the world I'd want to be. It's just another kind of cell."
"So I hear you got the President to remove the restrictions placed on us?"
"Yup."
"How on earth did you manage that? We've been here a couple of days and already you have us back in service."
"President knows he needs us. More than he realises, actually, but enough that we're off the hook."
He noticed Weir on the screen behind the bar once again, and he couldn't help but turn to see what he had to say.
"Go on, you son of a bitch, give us enough rope to hang you."
"He sure is popular with the people."
"Some of the people," snapped Taylor.
They both listened in as a reporter questioned Weir.
"So you will not condemn the terrorist attacks made against Colonel Taylor and the ANN news agency?"
"The fighting in Hawaii was regrettable, and I played no part in it. Any death is a tragic loss for this world, but I can sympathise with those people out there who feel helpless while military leaders continue to wage a war that will cost us so dearly. Those poor souls who attacked the ANN agency must have felt their situation was truly dire if they could bring themselves to carry out such an act. My thoughts are with their families."
Taylor felt sick for what he was hearing.
"Is this guy for real?" he asked Jones, "He has all but accepted responsibility for their actions and is showing sympathy for terrorists."
"Not everyone will see them that way, though, will they? Weir is a dangerous man, more dangerous than any on Earth, I should imagine."
Taylor had to agree with that.
"What I wouldn't give to get my hands on him."
"You may get that opportunity. Just make sure what you do to him is not just for the right reasons, but is done right in the eyes of the people."
"What do you mean?"
"Laying a finger on that man could be the difference between a unified Alliance and an all out civil war.” Their attention soon turned back to the news.
"Excuse me, Jonathan, but we are going live to Shanghai where we are receiving reports of an attack against a munitions factory on the outskirts of the city."
The screen transitioned to a feed from a drone chasing a reporter through a street. They could hear gunfire in the background.
"Anything interesting happening?" Alita asked merrily as she approached. She jumped in between the two of them with an arm over each of their shoulders.
"Oh, shit," she said instinctively.
She had uttered profanity learned from Taylor and not even noticed it. None of them had, for they were too busy watching the news. Automatic gunfire rang out, and armed guards rushed past the reporter as she turned back to the camera.
"We are getting reports that up to eight gunmen have entered the principal Dongfeng plant here in Shanghai. There have been multiple casualties, as local security forces attempt to regain control of..."
A massive explosion rang out that caused the young reporter to go to ground. Several more blasts followed as debris crashed down onto a car she was huddled beside. She cautiously stood back up.
"It looks like one of the ordnance factories has just been blown up. It's a warzone down here. Oh...oh, my god!"
She got up and ran, but as the camera followed her, she was hit in the back by a burst of gunfire. The camera zoomed past as she collapsed onto the road. It quickly pivoted and came to a halt, made a full one hundred and eighty degree turn, and slowly approached the body of the reporter. She was still breathing and reaching forward as if asking for help. Two gunmen were approaching, but the news feed cut off and returned to the studio, where they were met with a stunned and shocked news anchor.
"I am sorry, but...I," she jumped out of her seat and rushed off camera as she began to cry.
"That's not good."
"Isn't this what we are set up to deal with?"
"Yes, but we can't go in without authorisation."
"You're following the rules now?"
"As you have said yourself, Jones, this is a delicate situation. We need all the support we can get. The President said we do not move without his order, and that is precisely what we will do... for now."
"So we just sit around here all day?" Alita asked.
"A little rest could do our people some good," he said, looking back towards the beach. Many were sunbathing with their sidearms hung off the beds. Several observed from guard positions like a lifeguard might, but these carried rifles and watched out for terrorists.
They watched the screen again and were captivated by it for an hour as news updates kept coming in. Local troops were on the scene quickly, but smoke bellowed from a number of buildings across the site as the story developed. The camera drones followed the troops in live as they assaulted the terrorists’ positions.
"They aren't doing a half bad job," said Jones.
"No, but we need to stop these attacks before they happen."
"How the hell are we supposed to do that? We are fighting men, not detectives and spies."
"No, we have to make the world see that it's wrong. We need the support of the people. We always have done. Isaacs is right in that regard. I always go headfirst into doing what I think is right, but I never give a second thought as to how my actions will be perceived."
"Why should you?"
"Because it's the difference between having a population that supports you and one that fights against you. They need to see PAAC and their allies as the terrorists for what they are, and to see us as the good guys," he answered Alita.
"Don't we do that by just doing the right thing?"
"No, you have to be seen to be doing the right thing, and what is perceived to be the right thing. Taylor is right. I have read of these sorts of events so often before. I am impressed, you are learning," he said to Taylor.
They were silenced as the news anchor made a new announcement.
"We are getting reports of three, no...five more attacks against war munitions factories across the world. We cut now live to Manchester, England. Where more than a dozen heavily armed gunmen are fighting with local police and security forces at a munitions factory."
"What the hell?" Alita asked.
Within a minute the communication console on Taylor's arm began to flash with an urgent priority call. He already knew who it would be from. He opened the channel and a shaky and grey President Isaacs was displayed on the small screen.
"What can I do for you, Mr President?" he asked calmly.
"Colonel, I am sure you are already aware that we are facing a widespread emergency. Facilities all over the world are coming under attack."
"What can we do? Just give us a target and we will join the fight."
"No, Colonel, we have enough boots on the ground for that."
"Then what? What do you want from me?"
"I want...I want you to make it stop."
"You'll have to be a damn sight clearer than that," replied Taylor.
The President was still shaky as he rubbed his forehead and took a glass of water. He was certainly stuck between a rock and a hard place.
"Colonel, this is getting out of control. We can deal with individual attacks, but how do we make them stop?"
"You need to eradicate the root of the problem."
"But how?"
"Mr President. I will resolve this problem for you, but you have to give me permission to go freelance. You must give me the power to do whatever I must to get us through this."
He looked wary, but he didn't know what else to do.
"Do it, whatever you have to."
"You understand that you might not like what I have to do?"
He nodded, but did not say a word.
"Then know that everything I do is for the good of this world and the Alliance, and I expect your full backing in every action which I must carry out."
"Then you have it."
"Okay, first things first. Round up and arrest all known Bolormaa supporters."
"But...but they are not all violent. They are not all terrorists."
"No, but they are enablers. When the time comes, and we have the luxury of dividing out the good from the bad, then we will. Don't question me again. You asked for a solution. I am giving it to you. Get on it. I will be in touch. Good luck, Mr President. Taylor out."
He lifted his glass and knocked back his drink, but remembered as it touched his lips that there was no alcohol content at all.
"Did you just give the President of the Alliance an order and then hang up on him?" Jones tried not to smile.
"So what's next?"
"Get me the location of Jonathan Weir."
"I already know it. Everyone does," she quickly replied.
Taylor looked surprised.
"He's got a wealthy anonymous patron putting him and his network up in some of the most prime real estate in Manhattan. It's been all over the news for days."
Taylor shrugged. "I guess I was more focused on the larger matters at hand. I want us in the air in one hour. It's time to go and pay our friend Mr Weir a visit."
* * *
“I sure hope you know what you’re doing,” said Alita.
“Trust me. People keep pussy footing around this asshole because they’re terrified of what could or might happen.”
“I get that. Just don’t blunder in like a bull in a china shop.”
Taylor smiled.
“I’d never do such a thing.”
“There it is, Manhattan LZ1, the most prestigious port on the east coast, maybe even the nation. I never saw the day I would put down there.”
“Maybe some other time.”
“What do you mean?”
“I don’t want you landing in that LZ. You said you know where this asshole is based?”
“Yes, just a few blocks from here.”
“Good, then put us down in the street outside, and divert Third Platoon to the roof of the building to ensure nobody does a runner. We aren’t gonna give these bastards the chance to escape.”
“I can’t land outside. There’s nothing but pedestrianised walkways.”
“Are they wide enough to land this boat?”
“Well…yes, but it’s highly illegal.”
“We’re on a mission from the President himself. Do it.”
She looked extremely uncomfortable with the situation, but she relayed the orders and turned sharply in between a line of massive skyscrapers. There was nothing even close to their size in the lines of craft. They filled well over half of the width between the structures and forced a number of cabs and police vehicles out of the way. Blue lights flashed as several of the locals gave pursuit.
“This is going to cause a tonne of trouble, you get that, right? Why not just go in by foot?”
“Because if Weir is guilty like I think he is, he will rely on one of two things. The first is fear. That nobody would dare enter his premises. Second, that he will have enough friends to give him the heads-up to escape in the event of a raid. I want to make damn sure that neither avenue is open to them.
“I sure hope you’re right,” she added as she brought up a video feed of their aft. A second one of the Stormers had followed them in, but they now had a dozen police cruisers trailing them.
“We’re being hailed.”
“Don’t answer.”
“What? I can’t do that!”
“What are they gonna do?” He looked at their tiny cars compared to their military assault craft, “We have no idea what sympathisers Weir has. I don’t want to announce our presence until absolutely necessary. How is Sergeant Fry doing?”
“He’s just put down on the roof and has secured the area.”
“Good.”
“I really hope you know what you are doing.”
She brought them in for their final descent. Civilians scattered and screamed as they kicked up a storm of wind and dust. The landing gear struck a luxury shuttle parked outside the building before they finally rocked to a halt. Taylor rushed to the door and ran down the ramp at a rapid pace. As he reached the bottom, two police officers rushed to intercept him. They had their hands on the grips of their pistols still in the holsters, but looked appalled as they saw him step into the street in full armour.
“What the hell are you doing? You have no authority here!” yelled one of them.
He rushed up and put a hand on Taylor’s armour to try and stop him. Taylor gripped his hand and twisted so that he collapsed to the ground before shoving him out of the way. The other drew his pistol and took aim at Taylor, who made no attempt to bring his rifle to target. Instead, he just faced off squarely to the man as three of his Marines approached with the cop in their sights.
“I am here on the authority of President Isaacs. Do not interfere with the official business of the President!”
The cop quivered and backed off as he helped his partner up and retreated out of the way. The sliding doors drew back on the front of the target building ahead of them, and two men made a break for it. Taylor leapt into action and rushed to cut them off. His suit provided a power and speed to his sprint that caused him to soar across the street and barge into the first. He was smashed against the wall of the building and knocked unconscious. The other stopped, his hands raised in surrender.
“What? We didn’t do anything!” the man complained.
“You know why we we’re here. Don’t tell me you run in a suit like that for fun.”
Bailey reached them, and Taylor nodded towards her.
“Detain this one, and anyone else who tries to leave this building. Your squad is to remain here until I say otherwise.”
“Yes, Sir.”
He strode back to the door of the building just as Jones reached it. Police cruisers hovered over them, and more officers on foot were gathering, but none approached any more than twenty metres.
“Whatever we are going to do we better do it fast, or this is going to get ugly,” said Jones.
Alita reached them, and Jones glared at her.
“Only you would be crazy enough to lead us down here. You know how many laws we just broke?”
“It wasn’t me. I was just following orders.”
“That was discounted as an excuse a long time ago.”
“Bite me,” she replied.
Taylor went through the doors with his own squad, and Jones signalled for the others to remain outside as he and Alita followed them in. Two security guards approached. Taylor identified them as well-trained professionals, not the average dropouts who couldn’t get into the police force.
“Jonathan Weir, where is he?” he demanded.
“We are not at liberty to discuss the location of our client,” said one of them.
He was tall and broad. Enough that he would stand tall over Taylor, were it not for all his equipment. He was dressed entirely in black with a fake tan and a ponytail. Taylor smiled in response, reached forward with lightning speed, and grabbed his ponytail. He spun him around and smashed his face into the wall beside the elevator.
“I am not in the mood to piss around. Tell me where Weir is!”
“No way,” he snapped.
Taylor lifted his rifle and fired a shot that glanced through the man’s calf. He screamed out in pain and collapsed down onto one knee. Taylor threw him forward into the elevator.
“Jones, Hariz, you’re with me. The rest of you stay put.”
They stepped into the elevator with the man who was lying on the floor. Blood trickled out across the marble as the doors shut and sealed them in.
“I’d tell him, save yourself some pain,” said Jones.
But he said nothing.
“You know how many times I have been in this situation?” Taylor asked, “It really does get boring. I get no pleasure from it. I always get the result I want, the only variable is how much pain you must endure before giving me the information I want. Now I am betting you are paid to be here, and not working for Weir out of any kind of loyalty. So ask yourself; how much is he worth protecting? Is he worth your life?”
The man looked up in shock. The prospect of death had never even crossed his mind.
“Taylor has killed for less.”
“Taylor? Colonel Taylor?” He looked horrified.
“That’s right, son.”
The guard sighed and looked down at his wound. He finally mumbled a response.
“He’s on Floor Eighty-One.”
“What room?”
“He has the whole floor.”
“Good man,” said Taylor as he gestured towards Alita to hit the button.
“You know I would never have wanted to stand in the way of you, Colonel. But this is my job. I was paid to be here and do this. We all have to earn a living. I don’t support the PAAC, and I never would.”
He wiped his brow with his t-shirt sleeve, and it pulled back to reveal a tattoo that Mitch was all too familiar with.
“You’re a marine?”
“I was.”
“Once a marine, always a marine,” replied Taylor.
“Not when you get dishonourably discharged.”
Taylor laughed. “Yeah, what did you do?”
“I struck a superior asshole.”
Taylor laughed even louder.
“What’s your name?”
“Helix.”
“Helix what?”
“Just that.”
“You’ve only got one name?” Alita asked.
“It was all I was born with. No family I ever knew. I don’t need two names.”
Taylor reached down and offered his hand out and helped the man up.
“I like you, Helix. You ever want a real job again, you call me up, you hear?”
The man’s eyes seemed to lighten up.
“Really?”
“Yeah.”
Taylor pulled out a tiny camera. He clicked a button and clamped it to the side of his helmet. The other two did the same.
“Time to say hello to your audience,” he muttered to himself.
The elevator stopped and pinged as they reached the floor. It slid open to reveal a line of office cubicles. It looked like any other mind numbing office, except for the PAAC banners overhead.
“You are not allowed in here!”
A security officer approached, but Taylor strode forward and drove right through him and carried on to the end of the office. He passed hundreds of workstations until finally he reached a locked door at the far end.
“Well, I guess they do have something to hide.”
He kicked down the door and rushed in. He stopped, seeing it was nothing more than an office with a glass floor to ceiling outlook over the city. A single staff member sat at a desk in front of it. He looked calm and arrogant, and Taylor recognised him instantly. It was Weir.
“Welcome, Colonel, I hoped we would eventually meet in person, but I did not expect it so soon. What can I do for you?”
Taylor felt the anger brewing, but he remembered he was on air and took a deep breath before pacing to the window to look out across the city.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Weir asked, “That is the city I am trying to save from people like you. Think what you will, but we are a peaceful organisation, and will continue to oppose you in non-violent ways until the citizens of the Alliance understand what you really are.”
Taylor stayed calm and continued to look out as he thought about his next move. He looked to the mirrored glass of the building on the opposite side of the road and could see himself reflected in it.
“Never really was much of a city person myself, but that doesn’t mean I’m not willing to defend it from lunatics such as yourself.”
“I am not the one wielding the gun.”
Taylor smiled as he noticed something in the reflection that didn’t add up. The office reflected on the building across the way was longer than the one he was standing in, and as he turned and looked at the glass behind Weir. There was a very subtle distortion.
“We both use weapons to get what we want, Weir. The difference is that I am honest about what I do and why.”
Weir still looked cocky and confident, but Taylor lifted his rifle and fired a burst into the glass. His armour piercing rounds went right through, but did not reveal the light of day that one would expect. He looked at Weir’s face. It was now one of terror.
“Now let’s see what you really are.”
Taylor rushed across the room and grabbed Weir, launching him at the weakened glass. He crashed through it into a hidden room on the other side as the fake scenery projection flickered and failed. Taylor burst through into the room. A camera was set up for recording against flags of the PAAC with weapons and clothing of the Amitads beside them. A glimmer of movement caused Taylor to recoil back and lift his rifle but was struck by the limb of some monster lashing out against him. He was thrown onto his back.
Alita and Jones rushed through to help. A four-legged creature broke away from the machines that it seemed to be plugged into. It looked like a smaller version of the scaly Morohta Princes they had encountered, but it wore no armour.
“What the...” Alita asked.
But Jones did not hesitate. He opened fire on full auto and struck the creature with a dozen rounds as it came rushing towards him. Taylor joined in from the floor. Finally, it descended upon him. He was crushed to the floor under its weight as it slumped dead over him.
Taylor rolled over and got back to his feet. Alita had been too shocked to fire and looked at him in amazement.
“What was that?” she finally asked in an exasperating voice.
The two of them got down and heaved the creature off Jones who was covered in its blood.
“Aww…that stinks,” he protested.
As they got him to his feet, Taylor remembered why they had come there, and he burst back into the room. Weir was rushing for the door. Taylor fired a single shot into the doorway he was heading for, and he soon stopped. Taylor pulled out a small news drone and threw it up into the air until it balanced off to get a view of the whole scene.
“You’re finished, Weir. This is treason, and there is only one sentence for that.”
Weir reached behind his back and snapped a small pistol out from a concealed holster beneath his suit jacket, but Taylor was quicker to respond. He lifted his rifle and fired a single shot between the man’s eyes. It went right through and exited out the back of his skull. He fell down dead.
Taylor turned to the drone. He knew he was being watched by billions of citizens.
“Sentence for treason is death, tried and executed. This is Colonel Taylor, and I am here to tell you that the only way this war is gonna end is when we win.”
He reached forward and turned off the drone. Jones was slumped in the chair Weir had been sitting in.
“What is it, Jones?”
“To think…I almost believed that man. An enemy agent…”
“Don’t apologise for it. A way out of hell will always be appealing if it’s sold right. I am here to tell you there is a way out, right through the mouth of the beast. Are you with me?”
Jones did a mock and friendly salute.
“Then let’s get back in this damn war!”
Chapter 11
“What did you really expect to find back there?” Alita asked as they soared through the skies back to their new home.
“Honestly? I had no idea. All I knew was that Weir was in on all the shit we have been seeing recently. I hoped to find some proof of that. I hoped to be able to lock him down.
“You did more than that. Maybe now people will finally believe in you.”
“We can hope.”
“It was there for everyone to see. Live on TV, how can they doubt you?”
Taylor sighed. “We won a valuable victory here today, but sometimes people just believe what they want to believe. What they need for whatever reason.”
“What…is…this?”
They were coming in to land. Thousands of people were gathered at the docking bay that had been cleared for their landing. As they approached, they could see an array of military and civilian officials waiting to greet them.
“I guess someone finally gets your worth.”
“Ours. This unit was always a lot more than just me.”
He pressed a key on her console to open a channel across all their craft.
“This party here is for you, for all of you. You have earned it. Make the most of it, and look forward to many more like it. Good work today, and well done. Taylor out.”
They put down, and Taylor was first at the door to lead his people out into the awaiting crowd. They were being kept in careful order by military and police officials. He stepped off the craft to a wave of applause. The President strode towards him with a big smile on his face. He went forward and embraced Isaacs.
“I have to say, Colonel, I had my doubts that you could handle a delicate situation such as this, but you came through for us, for all of us. PAAC agencies around the world are being shut down as we speak. The citizens of all free nations have turned against them. They want blood, and rightly so.”
Isaacs led him to a podium where the press awaited them.
“We are all very proud of you, Colonel. The Alliance needs a hero in a time like this, and you are without a doubt the man of the hour.”
“Thank you, Sir, but I must ask, are we back in this fight? We are needed in this war.”
The President laughed in surprise.
“You most certainly are. There is much to be done, and tomorrow I will send for you, but today, this is your time.”
The President led him to the podium and began some drawn out speech that became a blur to Taylor. He fell into a daydream until finally he was released from the formalities. He rushed to Alita’s arms and led the rest of them back to their beach bar. It was now roped off just for their use. Many stripped off their armour and clothing at the waterfront and rushed into the sea in a manic celebration.
Taylor looked at Alita. She just shrugged and nodded. They ripped off their gear and followed the others in. The sun was setting as he embraced her in his arms in the warm sea, and he let all fears and thoughts of the next day vanish from his mind.
* * *
Taylor awoke with a massive hangover from no end of cocktails, but he soon found himself in a briefing room with the President projected at the head of the table. A week had passed since his victory, and still the celebrations had continued. He rubbed his sore head and regretted having necked all that Kai had thrown at him, but he felt more alive than ever.
A number of Navy and Army officers sat around the table, but he didn’t know any of them, and they looked to him as if he were second only to the President.
“Okay, Colonel,” began the President, “I am going to break this down simply. The Amitad attacks throughout the Alliance seemed entirely random, and our experts believe that is precisely what they were. However, the remnants of those forces have now gathered around one world.”
“Okay, what’s the problem?”
“Frankly, Colonel, their number is no small matter. We are talking almost fifty warships. They have no jump capability that we know of, and are simply staying put.”
“A strategic withdrawal to try and rally their forces for one last push?” he asked.
“That is what my military advisors think. However, Councillor Irala believes their intentions are rather more calculated and sinister than that.”
That got Taylor’s attention, and he sat upright as he rubbed his eyes and tried to wake up fully.
“Irala? What does he think those fuckers are doing?”
The President looked uncomfortable with his bad language, but he made no apology for it, and Isaacs went on.
“The Councillor believes they are assembling a device, a navigational aid that in theory could allow more of their kind to jump safely into the vicinity. Even without faster than light travel when they get here, that could present a real present danger. Who knows what else they could bring through? If the Councillor is correct, then we could face a threat from the enemy far sooner than we had planned for. The results of which could be… catastrophic.”
“Okay, so send the Navy in and take those fuckers down,” he replied sternly.
But the President looked decidedly uncomfortable.
"What is it?"
"The Navy assaulted the enemy target just two days ago and suffered a crushing defeat."
"What? Why am I only just hearing about this now?"
"Some information is starting to seep through. We've tried to keep it quiet, but it will be out soon enough."
"Then why did you bother trying to hide it?"
"Colonel, Earth seemed to be crumbling under the strain of all that we have had to go through. This was the last thing they needed to hear. It could have brought widespread rioting and a lot of people over to the PAAC cause."
Taylor grunted as his head slumped and he rubbed his head. It was still throbbing, but this new danger was quickly waking him up. The fact that Irala had weighed in on it made him more concerned than anything.
"What do we do?" asked the President.
Taylor got up and paced around the room, trying to come up with some answers. His instincts told him to go forth and destroy them, but he didn't have the resources for it.
"My advisors fear that if we ask the Navy to go back in, they will refuse."
"You mean mutiny?"
"Call it what you will, Colonel, but they are on edge. If you push them, they might just do that. That is a very dangerous situation to be in, and a very real possibility."
Taylor looked past the President to where multiple news screens were projected without sound so that they could keep track of anything serious as it unfolded. Every screen was filled with terrified and morbid looking faces. He stopped and stared at them for a moment. Other scenes showed bodies being recovered from the sites of terrorist attacks across the world.
"Look at them."
Taylor pointed to the screens, and Isaacs turned around to see for himself.
"They are divided. Weak. There is animosity and hatred. A recipe for absolute disaster."
"This PAAC situation has caused no end of troubles. I think only time can heal those wounds.
"No, time is the one thing we don't have. We have to have unity. We need a sign of strength, not just in the face of the enemy, but for them. Look at them! Their faith and confidence have been shattered. We are standing on a knife edge."
"Okay, but how do we solve that? I am at a loss."
"They have to have a victory, and to see that together we are strong and capable of dealing with anything that is thrown at us. We must take this enemy head on and defeat it, and be seen to be defeating it. And all those people out there who are working in the factories, the shipyards, and the mines, they all need to see that they have contributed. They have to be as one again. Something to celebrate, something to get rid of the bitterness and division that we have seen recently."
"But how? There isn't the stomach for it, let alone the strength."
"Don't doubt what you have. Above all else you must be strong. Because they need you to be, and through that strength they will gain the confidence they’re desperately crying out for."
"All very admirable words, but that still doesn't resolve anything that we have discussed."
"The Amitads, where are they? And how long does Irala think it will take for them to finish building whatever it is that they are doing?"
"Alpha Centauri, and he was rather vague."
"Yeah, he can be like that. What did he actually say?"
"That if their calculations are correct, the Amitad construction could be ready in seven to twenty-one days."
Taylor knew not to bother asking how they came to those conclusions.
"Then the one thing I can say for certain is that we cannot wait that long. Where is Irala? He should be here."
"I am not aware of the Councillor’s location at this time."
"Well get hold of him. Serious shit is going down, and it is imperative that we know everything he does. Next thing, get us on air to the people, and I mean STAT."
"To what end?"
"To show the world and the Alliance that we are exactly that. Allied, strong, and of a single mind. PAAC has undermined us for too long. It's time we turned things around. Some people believe I butchered civilians in a callous decision in Reno. Others think your leadership is flaccid. We have to go out there together and show the kind of unity we are asking for. It's time for a new age to begin."
"Okay, we can do that, but when?"
"No time like the now. Is Sienna Mitchells still presenting for ANN?"
"Yes, despite her horrifying experience, she has already continued her work."
"Then get her. She is a face the people like. She will open a public address that we will make together from your press briefing room."
"I will have it set up within the next three hours."
Taylor was running scenarios through his head. He knew he was coming across confidently, but he still wasn't sure himself of how to move forward. All he did know was that they had to go forward together. He didn't want to go on TV any more than before, but things were getting dire and something had to be done about it.
"Have your ship sent for me. We’ll do this in person."
He stood up and left the room. He needed some fresh air to think this through, but the next two hours passed like a daydream. The craft put down, and once more he stepped out into the bunker complex where the President operated from. Alita was the only one of his team to have come with him.
* * *
"Hello, I am Sienna Mitchells, live from the Presidential Press Centre. I'd like to welcome President Isaacs who would like to say a few words to the citizens of the Alliance."
It was all very abrupt, and she looked awkward, as if not knowing what she should do. But Isaacs soon stepped in to take over from her. It was clear she had never done anything like this before, but Taylor was aware how vital it was that the public had a friendly face to reach out to. The President took a deep breath. He looked confident and stately.
"The fate of the civilised nations of the Alliance is in danger, a danger like we have never known before. Some men and women have made a stand and resisted this danger at all costs; sometimes at heavy costs, even in the face of betrayal and corruption. But I am not here today before you to make a speech. I am here to introduce a great friend of mine, a man who we all owe a great deal to, and whose reputation is as controversial as his history. That man is Colonel Mitch Taylor. But before the Colonel addresses you, the citizens of the Alliance, I want to remind you that we are where we are today because of him. Earth nearly descended into chaos because of the PAAC, and enemy infiltrators that backed it. Taylor is the man who set us free and will see us back on the right path, so get on up here!"
No pressure! Taylor thought.
He approached the podium and shook the President's hand. Isaacs then stepped down and left him up there all alone to address the world. It was dawning on him just how much pressure was now on him. He coughed to clear his throat and tried to remember the speech he had prepared, but his mind had drawn a blank. He started to panic, but tried to hide it. He just opened his mouth and started speaking, hoping for the best.
"I...I come before you today not as a military leader, but as a man. That's right, a citizen of the Alliance, the same as every one of you out there who is watching today. A storm is coming, and we can't stop it. We have done everything we can to slow it down, and all we can do now is prepare ourselves as best as we can to weather it. But a thorn remains in our side. These attacks have plagued not just this world, but the whole Alliance. They are not over, not quite. One force of the enemy holds out. What exactly their intentions are remain unclear. But the one thing we can guarantee, is that they will attempt to harm the Alliance in any and all ways they can."
He took a breath and a sip of water and could see the President smiling enthusiastically before he continued.
"United we stand, divided we fall. I won't force any man or woman to fight. But I will ask that anyone who wants to go on living, that you support all that we are doing. The last remaining enemy have gathered at Alpha Centauri. Our fleets have already engaged them and suffered severe casualties. Those are losses that cannot be replaced. Our people are running scared, and we cannot win while we live in fear. I will not stand by and allow them to sit on our doorstep and continue their reign of terror. I am going back there, to Alpha Centauri. I will not order a single person to come with me, and I will go it alone if I must."
He wished he could see what sort of response he was getting, but all he could see were a few dozen of the press and the President's staff waiting on his every word.
"In six hours time I will be setting off from orbit aboard the Guam. I am asking for volunteers to come with me. I can promise you this. Every day that goes by that we let the enemy remain unopposed, only brings us one step closer to defeat. So those willing and capable, come with me, and let us put an end to these bastards!"
He looked up as if expecting some response, but they were stunned and silenced. He couldn't tell if it were a good or a bad thing. A few excruciating moments went by when finally Isaacs himself began to clap. Others soon joined him and were followed by whistles and cheers as the room turned into a frenzy. It brought a smile to his face.
Maybe there is hope after all!
* * *
Taylor watched the minutes tick down on his watch. He kept going between that and the scanner on Osborne's console. There were still just six vessels in their fleet. He knew it would be a suicidal run as things stood. But he couldn't back down.
"It was a good speech, but maybe people just don't have the stomach for it anymore," said Jones.
"Yeah, well, they better find it pretty fucking soon. This war is gonna get a whole lot worse before it gets better. We haven't even seen an invasion force yet, and already they are flagging. If this is how it's gonna be, then maybe we have already lost."
"I thought you said losing wasn't an option?"
"I can't force people to want to want to try and survive, Jones."
"And what other alternative is there?"
Taylor didn't like to admit it, but he had long conceived an idea for this eventuality.
"We have left Earth before, and we were able to survive as a species because of that decision."
"You can't seriously be considering it?"
"I don't want to, but I can't make people do the right thing. I have told you so many times before."
He looked down at his watch again. There were just five minutes left until they were to make their jump. Taylor was starting to lose hope when a light flashed and two-dozen Cholan vessels jumped in beside them. At their centre was the Nakbe. They couldn't believe what they were seeing.
"We're being hailed," said Nichols in amazement.
"Put them on screen!" Taylor yelled.
Emperor Tuin appeared, but he was not dressed in the lavish attire of his status, but in a military uniform and armour.
"Colonel Taylor. We are here to support you in this endeavour, if you will have us."
Taylor could barely get his words out as a smile stretched across his face.
"Tuin, you son of a bitch, I didn't think you'd ever come through when the time came."
"Then you should have a little more faith, Colonel. You set our people on the correct course. You helped us when we needed it most, and now we are here to return that favour. You said to me that we must do this together, or not at all. We are at your disposal."
Further flashes lit up the space around them as eight Krys vessels jumped in beside them, and almost twenty Human vessels on the far side.
"The Navarin," said Jones with pride as he spotted it instantly.
Osborne opened channels from two other incoming calls to find Sarik on one line and Lushkov on the other.
"Gentlemen, I cannot begin to explain what it means to me personally that you are with me on this."
"Jafar told me that if you die, he will hold me personally responsible, so you will not die," said Sarik.
Taylor laughed, but he could see it wasn't meant as a joke.
"Fleet's mine to do with as I please. Because of you I just got a promotion. It's good to have friends," said Lushkov with a smile.
"Sir, I have another incoming call, it's from...the President," said Osborne.
"Put him through."
Isaacs was displayed for them all to see, including the other commanders.
"Colonel Taylor, I am glad to inform you that your request for volunteers for this mission has yielded an overwhelming response. Most of the ships in the new Earth Defence Force fleet have put requests forward to assist you. Clearly we cannot spare them all, but I have allocated fifteen ships to come under your direct command. They are en route to your position now."
"Thank you, Mr President."
"Colonel, we couldn't have gotten this far without you, and you continue to inspire the citizens of the Alliance in a manner which none of us could ever have foreseen. Good luck, and happy hunting."
The signal ended, and all eyes were on Taylor. He felt unstoppable now at the head of the largest fleet he had ever commanded.
"Prepare to jump to Alpha Centauri!" he barked.
"You got much of a plan beyond turning up all guns blazing?"
"Do I need anything more than that, Jones? We have little idea of what we are going to find there. We'll make it work as we go."
"Winging it as usual?"
"Pretty much."
The countdown went quickly as various crew about the deck relayed orders and checked coordinates throughout the fleet.
"You sure Irala was right?"
"He's never been wrong before."
"There's a first time for everything."
"Preparing to make jump to Alpha Centauri in 10, nine, eight, seven..."
Taylor took a deep breath. He'd fought long and hard to get to this point, and now he just had to hope he was doing the right thing, because he was well aware of the assets he was risking in the process.
"Three, two, one, jump!"
The light flashed before them, and the distortion that never failed to make Taylor's stomach turn hit once again. Finally, the light flashed again, and they were there at the planet. The enemy fleet was in full view ahead of them, still long out of weapons range.
"Enemy contact, forty-six vessels in orbit and traces of contact on the surface," said Nichols.
"Just as he said they would be," stated Taylor.
"What are your orders?" Song asked.
"Sweep and clear," he replied confidently.
He looked across the video feeds showing their fleet. It was awe-inspiring, and he felt like he was on top of the world.
"Drive them from the planet. Leave no survivors."
"All vessels, advance on enemy fleet and engage."
"Subtle tactics," whispered Jones.
"Who needs subtlety when you have the biggest gun in the galaxy?"
Taylor pointed to a display showing the Nakbe. It dwarfed every other vessel in the fleet and was kept well guarded at the very core of their formation. He remembered how fearsome it was to face when the Cholans were the enemy. It felt good to dish out a little back.
“Are our teams ready to go?” he asked.
Jones nodded.
“Good,” he replied as he turned back to watch the approach to the enemy fleet. They could see the glow of their engines increase as they powered up and came forward to intercept.
“Get me a view of the surface!”
One was projected before him soon after. There was a vast skeletal like sphere being constructed on the dusty rock surface, and they could see a number of machines working on it.
“What the hell is that?”
“Whatever it is it can’t be good, Jones.”
“Feels good, doesn’t it?” asked Song.
“What?”
“To be the cavalry.”
Taylor smiled in agreement.
“Open a channel to the entire fleet for me.”
She turned and gestured towards Nichols to do so. He pointed to Taylor to acknowledge he was live.
‘This is Colonel Taylor. Remember today what you are fighting for. Your homes, your families, your civilisations. Each one of our races face the greatest threat they have ever known, but together we stand in defiance. Together we fight, and together we will win. Show no mercy, and do not leave one of them alive. Good luck to you all.”
“Sir, the Nakbe is within range of the enemy and is requesting permission to fire!” Nichols called out.
“Weapons free! Kill them all!”
Chapter 12
The Nakbe lit up as its apocalyptic weapon came to life, and a beam burst out from its hull. It struck one of the larger enemy warships the size of a battle cruiser, punching right through without resistance. Explosions erupted around the hull as it was blown apart.
“We’ll be in range in two minutes!” Nichols shouted.
There was an odd tranquillity as they closed. Not a single ship in range while the Nakbe recharged.
“All hell is about to break loose,” said Jones.
“Yep, and we’re at the reins,” replied Taylor joyfully.
He was studying the screen that showed the surface and squinting to make it out. He still had no clue as to what it did, but it must either be a weapon or a means of navigation to get more of their forces into the area. It was inconceivable that it could serve any other purpose.
“Whatever that thing is it looks near enough complete.”
“That can’t be good,” replied Jones.
Taylor turned back to Song.
“Whatever happens, you do not stop! Get us within range of that thing, and then blow it to hell.”
“Yes, Sir,” she replied. “Prepare to launch fighters!”
“We have a firing solution!” Nichols confirmed.
“Fire!” Song ordered without hesitation.
A volley of fire burst out from their bow, and it was followed almost with exact synchronicity from every other vessel in the fleet, except for the Nakbe as she was still recharging. Two more enemy vessels were destroyed with the opening volley, but it soon came their turn to retaliate.
“Launch fighters!”
They were rapidly descending towards the enemy fleet, and it still felt intimidating, no matter how many they had on their own side. A hit from a heavy weapon from an enemy cruiser smashed into their hull. They felt the impact through their feet as the ship was rocked.
A flash almost blinded them as one of the Cholan vessels off their port side blew up. There was no doubt they had a numerical advantage, but Taylor was all too aware of what this battle could cost them. But he was single-mindedly focused on the construction on the surface.
It still bugs me that I don’t know for sure what it does. But I know I must trust in Irala.
The Guam was rocked once again, and the intensity increased. Warning lights flashed across several consoles next to Nichols.
“We’ve got a hull breach and fires across two floors! We can’t go on like this!”
Volleys of fire continued to pour into them, but still the old girl held firm. They were coming alongside the first of the enemy vessels now and firing on both sides. Slogging it out with broadsides like the old time sail ships. Then they were rocked by a blast larger than any other, and Taylor was thrown off his feet. He felt his helmet crash into the Captain’s chair in an impact that would have split his head open. He was a little stunned by it and got up to help Song back to her feet.
“We’ve lot starboard batteries!”
Taylor knew they were in trouble. Enemy ships were being ripped apart either side of them, but they couldn’t take much more themselves. He felt helpless, but as he tried to think of something to do, the gunfire on their starboard side was blocked out by a vast shadow passing along the length of their hull, and the impacts reduced. As it drew further forwards, they could see the bow of the Navarin and her name. Her guns were twice the size and in far greater number, and they rained down hell. It was just the breather they needed.
“Have our fighters cover our starboard side. Get crews down there now. I want those guns working!” Song ordered.
One of the smaller enemy craft ahead of them was banking to cross their T. Taylor could see the planet’s atmosphere was almost within reach now.
“Full speed ahead!” he cried.
Nichols relayed the order without question this time.
“Brace for impact!”
The enemy ship fired an opening volley that was brushed off by their armoured prow before they hit the craft at full tilt. They were rocked by the impact even more than the blast that had taken out their gun batteries, but the prow sliced through the enemy craft, splitting it in two as they passed through.
Jones couldn’t believe their luck.
“She did it!” he shouted in ecstasy.
“Don’t underestimate the old girl,” replied Taylor.
But he could see Song was more relieved that anything else. Red warning lights flashed across multiple screens. They had taken damage across most of the ship, and many modules were damaged.
“We have to slow down now or we risk never stopping. We’ll plough right into the surface!” Song said.
Taylor didn’t want to stop, but they now had a clear view of the surface.
“Target that sight, everything you got!”
“What about the rest of the fleet?”
“They can manage just fine, Captain. Take it down, now!”
They were still rocked by several impacts, but it was reducing now.
“We’ve only got port and bow guns.”
“Then fire them, just shoot something!”
He was getting irate and starting to fear what the device on the ground could do. It was a vast complex construction that would have taken Humans many months to build, and yet they seemed to have done it in days.
“Don’t you think we should get down there on the ground first and actually find out what it is?” Jones asked.
Taylor was already shaking his head.
“No fucking way. Nothing good can come of whatever that is. At the rate they are building it, who knows how long until it becomes operational? And while I cannot say what it is, I can guarantee we aren’t gonna like it.”
“Weapon systems ready to fire,” said Nichols.
“Do it!”
A full volley of the bank of guns opened fire, and everyone watched and waited for them to reach their target.
“Come on…” muttered Taylor.
But as the shots reached their target, they impacted on the surface of some sort of faint energy shield and were cast aside so that they struck the surface.
“What the hell was that?” Jones asked, “How the hell can they have that sort of technology?”
“Whatever they might be, they do the bidding of the Morohta. Get me Emperor Tuin!”
It took just a few seconds for the Cholan to be projected before him.
“Tuin, fire that monster of yours up. We have work to do. Target that facility on the surface and get rid of it!”
“My pleasure.”
They watched the vast vessel come about. A number of enemy craft closed in, trying to ram or board it, but were blown away by scores of fighters and support fire from the vessels all around her.
“All right, you sons of bitches, let’s see you shrug this off.”
The Nakbe lit up and pulsated as it always did before the vast beam weapon lit up and soared down towards the surface. It struck the shield of the ground target. To their horror it was reversed and sent right back towards the Nakbe. Nobody had time to respond, and the ship took the full brunt of the impact. As it landed, the projection of Tuin stopped, and the lights of the ship went dead along with the engines. Fires raged along the hull. It remained intact, but it was floating freely without power of any kind.
“Shit!”
Things weren’t going the way Taylor wanted, and it was really starting to concern him.
“That is some serious hardware,” said Jones.
“Song, get…” began Taylor.
But a blue light flashed across their bow and struck the vessel. It rocked them violently, and their power died instantly. It went pitch black on the bridge, not even the emergency lighting kicked in.
“What the hell is going on?”
He reached for the light on his helmet and activated the other on the shoulder pad of his armour. Jones and two of the Marines on guard did the same. The beams of light fluttered around the bridge as they looked to check if everyone was okay.
“We’ve lost all systems,” stated Nichols.
“No shit,” replied Taylor.
“You’ve got nothing? Not even comms?” Jones asked.
“Anything running from the ship’s power has gone. I can dig out emergency radio equipment that can be used short range.”
Taylor looked down at his console. His suit still had power.
“Life support is down as well?”
Song nodded.
“How do we get it back online?”
“Without knowing what has caused it, I have no idea, but we won’t know anything until we can make contact with the engine bay.”
“All right, Jones and I will head for engineering. You dig those radios out. You know our frequency, and Captain, arm yourselves.”
She looked to the Marines at the door, but she knew Taylor was right.
“Right then, torches, weapons, radios, reserve air, get moving people, you know what to do,” she ordered.
Taylor rushed out of the door with Jones close at his side.
“You know running out of air might be a problem, but without life support, it’s going to freeze in here before long.”
“Yeah, I know,” replied Taylor with a sigh.
They made their way down two levels and along a few lengths of corridor when they felt an impact against the ship.
“What’s going on? Why are they still shooting at us? We’re dead in the water,” said Jones.
They heard another impact, and it sounded close. They froze, listening out for some sign of the origin, but a moment later there was a flash of light and sparks as a cutting torch began tearing through the airlock up ahead. It was working fast.
“Ah, hell.”
“Nothing can ever be easy, can it?” replied Taylor.
He activated his shield and lifted his rifle in readiness. It took just ten seconds for them to cut through the heavy door. It collapsed in with a crash. Light burst through the hole, and shadows became visible as a horde of the savage Amitad warriors rushed for the breach.
“Here we go!” Taylor shouted.
They leapt out into the open corridor, and both men opened fire and cut down the first two instantly, but another few jumped on over their bodies. They scattered in both directions, towards them and away, and more piled in.
“They’re going for engineering, Mitch!”
“Ah, fuck!”
Taylor rushed forward towards them laying down fire. He cut down two, and Jones had matched his pace. Taylor crashed into the nearest and barged the second. He let his rifle drop down by his side, and armed and threw a grenade through the breach as he rushed past. He didn’t even think about stopping. He heard a few shots ring out at his back as Jones dealt with the two he had brushed off. Jones was right in front of the breach when the charge blew and shrapnel smashed into his shield. It knocked him back against the far wall, but he stayed on his feet.
Taylor fired into the back of the last of the creatures that had gone the other way. He put his rifle barrel around the corner of the breach and fired a burst to suppress whoever might be left, and tossed down another grenade. He grabbed Jones and rushed on. They heard the charge blow and the screams of the enemy who could not outrun it. They found four of the enemy setting explosive charges on the doors to engineering and opened fire to cut them down where they stood.
Their bodies were just slumping to the ground when they reached the doors. Taylor punched in his security access code and ripped the door open. He leapt in, and Jones slammed it shut behind him.
Taylor found the barrel of a gun at his head being carried by a shaky hand.
“Whoa, easy now,” he said. Looking past the barrel, he saw a young female engineer holding it. She looked absolutely terrified, but as he pushed it aside, she slowly lowered the weapon.
“It’s okay. I am here to help. Do you know who I am?”
She acknowledged him, but didn’t say a word. She was dripping with sweat.
“Where’s the Chief?”
She was still shaking and didn’t seem to want to answer.
“Look, we are flying blind in the middle of combat. We have to get this bird back in the air and back in the fight. So please, where is the Chief?”
She shook her head and began to cry. “He’s dead,” she finally mumbled.
Taylor grabbed her and let her cry into his shoulder for just a few seconds before pulling her back. He felt as though he had to hold her up, for she seemed weak and faint, and yet he needed her. He looked down at her nametag. It read ‘Walters’.
“Walters, is that your name?”
She shook her head. “Yes, no…people call me Walz.”
“Okay, Walz, I need your help. We all need your help, can you do that?”
She nodded as she tried to wipe the tears away, but they continued to stream.
“What do you want me to do?”
“Come with me.”
She led them on through a cloud of steam, and now it dawned on them. There were fifteen bodies around the engines where a blast internally had erupted and killed almost everyone in the engine bay. Two were still breathing, but unable to stand. Jones didn’t even have any words for it, and Walz seemed to go onwards as if ignoring them. Taylor wasn’t going to say anything. Right now, they needed just one thing. They went past the main engines to a backup.
“I’ve got a coupling out,” she said, pointing to a burnt out piece of equipment and a collapsed bulkhead, “But I can’t get in there. The hoist is out even if I could get the space, and there’s nobody else left to help. It’s a four-man lift.”
Taylor jumped up to the top of the damage she spoke of, and to her amazement, he prised away the fallen bulkhead. It let him do it with ease, and she was starting to realise she could make it happen.
“All right, we can do this. We can fix the ship,” she said.
It seemed to give her hope. She released four clamps on the coupling. It was the size of a small car and looked like it weighed a tonne.
“Help me get it off,” she said and gestured towards a replacement on the racks across the way. Taylor prised it off and threw it off with ease. It crashed down to the deck with a loud echo.
“You’re going to have to be a lot more careful with the new one…please. It’s our last one. Mess this up and there’s nothing I can do for you.”
He and Jones went to the coupling and went to begin a lift when one of the wounded Amitad warriors came rushing through the steam, brandishing his sword above his head. Taylor snapped his pistol from its holster and fired two shots. He quickly holstered it once more.
Walz couldn’t believe what she had just seen, but her open mouth was soon shut as she remembered they had a job to do. They lifted up the coupling and carefully lowered it down onto its mountings so that she could seal it.
“Okay, that’s it.”
She rushed back to a control panel and pressed a few dozen keys. After several tense seconds, there were a few sparks from the new coupling and the sound of a power surge. The lights snapped back on as the engines fired up. Taylor put his hand on top of her head and ruffled her hair.
“Great job, kid,” he said.
He knew she was far from all right, but at least they were back in action. Song’s voice soon came over his comms.
“Taylor? We are up and running on auxiliary. We are unable to jump, but we have power. Communications should be back in a few minutes.”
“That’s good. We have at least one breach in the hull and enemy combatants. Have your Marines continue to carry out sweeps.”
“Where are you going?”
Jones could already see where this was going, and he didn’t look impressed.
“Down to the surface to get this thing done.”
There was a silence as Song thought about it, but it was clear nobody had any better ideas.
“Good luck, Colonel,” she finally added, and Taylor turned back to Walz.
“When we have gone, you seal this door shut, and you don’t open it until a Marine detachment arrives, you hear?”
She didn’t look happy to be left, but she nodded in agreement as they rushed off and slammed it shut behind them.
“Strong kid,” Jones said when he knew she couldn’t hear them anymore.
As they reached the docking bays, they heard a few gunshots from one of their own and rushed forward to find the source. They stepped into the dock. Alita was standing in front of her Stormer with her rifle in hand. Two of the enemy lay dead in front of her.
“What the hell have you got us into, Mitch?”
“Just get us in the air,” he replied.
“Yes, Sir.”
They clambered aboard. The docking bay doors opened, and they could see the battle was winding down now. The enemy had been brutalised, but not without a severe cost to the fleet. Two friendly vessels were floating as wrecks, and the Nakbe still didn’t have power, despite the fact that Cholan vessels had latched on and brought her to a standstill.
“Get us on the ground,” ordered Taylor.
She fired up the engines, and they soared out into space.
“Why can’t we just blow this thing from orbit?”
“Some kind of shielding technology. Something we haven’t seen before. It bounced the Nakbe’s shots right back at her. Maybe not with the same strength, but enough that it took them out of the fight.
“So I am guessing whatever this is it is valuable? They’ve gone through a whole lot of effort to protect it.”
“That’s what I figure. Get us down there, but stay away from that field, and find us an opening.”
A few lights flashed past as the remnants of the enemy were mopped up, and the fighters kept them safe as they made their approach.
“Know if they have any anti-air capability?”
Taylor shrugged.
“That’s reassuring.”
They passed through the atmosphere and found a world as bleak and boring as any other. The only thing of note was the technological marvel that the enemy had been assembling. Alita brought them down to surface level. As they made their approach, she banked and brought them around the perimeter. There were no fighters to defend the site, nor weapons trying to bring them down.
“Glad they haven’t finished this thing. If it is as valuable as you think, then I bet they would have had a tonne of assets in place to keep us out within no time at all,” said Alita.
But Taylor was too fixated on the scene before them. He was looking for any opening, any sign of a way in. She activated the guns in the nose and fired a burst. The shots impacted on the near invisible surface of the shield and highlighted its outline for a moment. She banked hard and fired a few more bursts as they scouted the perimeter for any sign of an entrance.
“There!” Taylor shouted.
She looked carefully and could see a tunnel in some rock. It seemed to pass beneath the shielding they were using. It wasn’t large enough for their craft to pass by. Alita guided them in carefully and brought them down beside the opening. Their three other craft landed nearby. Taylor turned to move, but she grabbed hold of his wrist and stopped him.
“I don’t like this. No protection, nothing stopping us going in. It stinks.”
“Yeah, maybe it does, but what else are we supposed to do? We can’t just leave it here. Trust me, we won’t be long.”
She let go and he carried on.
“Masks down!” he cried and hit the door release. He looked back to the nuclear weapon that had been loaded for them and watched two of his team pick it up in its harness.
“Whatever this is, we are going to end it before it can cause us grief.”
He rushed out down the ramp and through the mouth in the rock. It opened out into the spherical construction. It looked like no end of mechanical component parts sewn together with absolute precision. He couldn’t figure out what it was, but he knew it had a wicked purpose. He looked around in every direction, as if expecting to spot the enemy or some kind of ambush at any moment, but nothing came. All they could see were automated drones working on the build, and not one looked like it were armed.
“Okay, let’s get this done!”
He led them to the core of the structure. It seemed to drive into the ground and vanish deep below the surface, but they couldn’t tell for certain.
“You know I sure would like to know for certain what this monster is,” said Jones.
“Yeah, you and me both. Too bad we’ll never know.”
They placed the device down, and Taylor punched in the codes. There was a twenty-minute delay, just enough time to get everyone out. He watched the first few seconds count down to know for certain it was active. He then looked around the site one last time for any sign of the enemy. None of what he was seeing looking anything like the Amitad equipment. And although it appeared to have the technological advancement of the Morohta, it seemed out of character. He had seen one of their worlds and the kind of things they built. None of it looked like this.
“We really nailed them here, didn’t we?”
Taylor felt uncomfortable, and Jones could see it in his face.
“What is it?”
Taylor shrugged it off. “It’s nothing. Come on, let’s get the fuck off this rock.”
They rushed on back to the craft, slowing only occasionally to check for any enemy around corners as they past them. Alita fired up the engines, and once again they were lifting off the planet just as quickly as they had arrived. He checked the time, ten minutes until ignition. He looked back at the site, and still the weapon remained unopposed.
“Hey, you know sometimes it is allowed to be easy,” Jones said, seeing the worried look on Taylor’s face.
“Yes, I wish it could be, but it would be a first.”
“Then here’s to a first.”
Taylor grunted, and that made Jones smile.
“Can’t you just enjoy this?” he jested.
Taylor didn’t seem to see the funny side. Jones tapped him on the arm.
“Come on, Taylor, you are allowed to enjoy yourself occasionally. We have won a valuable victory here today. The Alliance is free of the enemy and can get back to the war effort. We might actually be ready when Bolormaa finally turns up.”
As they reached he docking bay of the Guam, the nuke went off and enveloped the target in a mushroom cloud that brought cheers from all aboard, all but Taylor. He wasn’t satisfied, and something at the back of his mind was niggling him. They put down and hit the deck running. He wanted to be back on the bridge. Alita reached in to kiss him, but he brushed her off and went like lightning. She looked disappointed as she watched Jones chase after him.
Taylor burst out onto the bridge. Lighting and power had all been restored, and Song looked relieved to see him. She began to clap, and the rest of the crew joined in.
“We did it!” she declared.
Taylor nodded in appreciation but closed the distance and approached her with a serious tone on his face. So much so that it brought silence to the bridge.
“Is it gone? Target destroyed? Definitely?”
“That’s what happens when you have delivered a nuclear weapon to a target, Colonel. There’s nothing left down there.”
He breathed a sigh of relief as she continued speaking.
“Nakbe is back under its own power, but she’s taken a real beating, a lot more than us. We are assisting with the recovery of escape modules now. All in all, we did well. Might take us a little while before we can head back home, but we pulled through.”
“Captain,” said Osborne.
“Excuse me, Colonel,” she said and walked over to the Lieutenant.
Taylor was still studying the sight of the impact. He half expected some creatures to arise from the ashes, or some other such horror. He finally smiled as he started to believe they had done it, but it was then that he overhead the two officers.
“…it might be nothing, but I have some strange energy signals coming from a nearby moon.”
“Why didn’t this come up before?”
“I guess it wasn’t even noticeable with all the ships in the area and the ground target. I am sorry, Sir. It might have passed me by.”
Taylor rushed to their side. He was naturally suspicious; the wars had made him that way. He had returned to a high alert status himself and looked around at all the monitors, as if expecting something or someone to arrive at any moment.
“Set alert stations. Launch fighters, ready our weapon systems,” he declared.
Song looked at him as if he were mad, as did the rest of the crew.
“But…Colonel.. the fight is over. We won.”
“Just do it!” he snapped.
She didn’t seem keen, but neither did she want to ignore his commands. She respected him, and he was in charge of the mission. She relayed the commands before turning back to him as if expecting him to change his mind and back down.
“This energy signature, tell me more!”
They both turned to Osborne for answers.
“I…we…”
“Just tell me what you know, damn it!”
“It’s pretty faint, Sir, on the far side of the moon. It could be nothing, just an anomaly. It’s probably just a glitch. Our systems are so blown to hell right now that there could be nothing there at all.”
“Probably? We are not in the business of probably, Lieutenant.”
“What would you have us do?”
“Send a wing of fighters to investigate, Captain.”
Song looked unsure, but she still relayed the orders and ordered the fighters to the moon. It was in this calm moment that Jones approached Taylor. He looked horrified.
“You know you are sounding a little crazy right about now? You do get that, right?”
“Indeed, Jones! Well, the crazy man ain’t always wrong.”
Something hadn’t sat right with Taylor throughout their mission, and he had a hunch this would explain why.
“You know it’ll be nothing. The computers get readings like this all the time, especially with the sort of interference we will be getting from that nuke and all the damage to our systems,” he said, leaning in close.
“Come on, Mitch, let it go. These people have had enough for one day. There is nothing else out here.”
“Do you want to get this job done right or not?” he asked and took a step back.
Jones was surprised. He wasn’t acting like a friend at all here, only a superior officer.
“All right, then, your call. But when this turns out to be a ghost hunt, you are buying us all a round of drinks for our troubles.”
“Happily,” replied Taylor.
He wanted to be proven wrong, he prayed for it. They waited and watched as the fighters closed. As they neared the moon, Jones himself started to doubt. He began to fear what they might find, and it was spreading. The crew had become accustomed to trusting Taylor, and even though they wanted to find nothing, they now almost expected to.
“Thirty seconds and we’ll know for sure, and we can get on with this rescue operation,” said Song.
Taylor didn’t say a word as he waited to know for certain.
“Sir, I am getting an…an engine signature.”
Oh, fuck, Taylor thought.
“What is it?” Song asked. She was starting to panic.
She looked to Taylor as if to apologise for doubting him.
Everyone looked to Nichols for answers as he studied all the information Osborne and the others were providing.
“I don’t believe it.”
“What?” Jones demanded impatiently.
“It’s…Aranui!”
Jones sighed in relief, but Taylor wouldn’t believe it until he could see it with his own eyes. He could see an energy signature increase as the ship powered up, and it passed out towards their fighters. Finally, it passed into view as the fighters rushed past.
“You see, Colonel, nothing to worry about. This must be how they provided the information on this target for us.”
“They could have at least given us a hand in the fight,” said Jones.
A light flickered before them, and a figure appeared. It was a projection of Irala. Taylor would recognise him anywhere. At last he was now able to relax like the others.
“My fucking word am I pleased to see you,” he stated.
Irala seemed to look around at all the crew before finally turning back to Taylor.
“Are you okay?” Taylor asked.
But the projection flickered once against and began to morph into something very different. Within a few moments, a Morohta Prince stood before them. They knew it was only a projection, but nonetheless it was a bad sign.
“No, not Irala,” said the creature in a deep voice, “Colonel Taylor. I have been so looking forward to meeting you.”
It was beginning to dawn on Taylor now just how bad a situation they might be in.
“What have you done with Irala?”
The creature only grinned to bare its gleaming teeth at him.
“Never mind about him. I am Tsetseg, Prince of the Morohta.”
“I’ve met your kind before, and ended two of you. It would be my pleasure to round it off to three.”
“Colonel, I am getting massive readings from the far side of the moon,” said Osborne.
Taylor snapped around and rushed to the screen. The fighters were close to passing by and relayed a feed. A massive structure that appeared to be dug into the surface of the moon itself was swirling around at high speed, much like a jump gate.
“That thing we destroyed wasn’t a gateway. It wasn’t anything of importance at all,” he said in amazement.
“No, nothing more than a piece of scenery to draw your attention, and draw it did,” replied Tsetseg.
Taylor did his best to ignore the creature, but he didn’t know of any way to end the transmission, for it was not connected to any of their systems.
“Captain, have our fighters target whatever that is. Hit it with everything they have.”
She relayed the orders, but it was already too late, as Tsetseg went on.
“You have delayed this long enough, Taylor. My Queen is longing to meet you. Let me welcome her magnificence, Bolormaa.”
Taylor’s heart sunk. It was the last thing he expected, and yet somehow deep down he knew that something awful would come of this mission. They’d had to do it because the enemy could not operate unopposed, and yet nothing was as it seemed. Tsetseg began to laugh in a deep and bellowing chortle that was off-putting to say the least. The crew looked terrified. Taylor wanted to apologise to them, but that emotion was overridden by anger.
“What the hell is this?”
“Judgement day, Jones. You know all this time we have wasted fighting amongst one another trying to hold the Alliance together. It didn’t come soon enough.”
“Such a shame,” replied Tsetseg, “You will not be as much sport as we had hoped.”
That got Taylor’s back up. He wondered if it were true.
I never understood why the Morohta did what they did. In time the Krys wars made sense to me. Earth was a mythical paradise to them, but what is this to the Morohta? Are we really just sport to be hunted for entertainment?”
They watched the fighters open fire with all they had, but it seemed to have no effect at all. The portal opened just as a gateway would. They watched in horror as a vast vessel almost as wide as the portal itself passed through into their space. It was followed by dozens more of the enemy craft. They glittered and glimmered in the light. Each one of them looked more living than machine.
“Get our fighters back!” Taylor ordered.
They didn’t hesitate as the enemy fleet formed up and approached. Every one of the ships was larger than they had, and the Nakbe remained inoperable.
“We can’t fight this,” said Song.
Taylor knew it was true. He knew how terrifyingly powerful the Morohta vessels were. But as if the odds were not bad enough, dozens more Amitad ships poured through the gateway to join their masters. Everyone looked to Taylor for answers, but he had none. They were screwed. He hoped for some miracle, but that it was foolish. Tsetseg began to laugh once more as he saw the shock and fear on all their faces.
“I thought we had more time than this,” declared Jones, “So much more time.”
“Here she comes now, Queen of all the universe,” said Tsetseg.
Taylor was waiting for their fleet to be blown to pieces, but the enemy fleet stopped one klick out. They turned to Tsetseg for answers, even though they did not trust him.
“You are in the presence of a God. Bolormaa. And she requests an audience with you, Colonel Mitch Taylor.”
It was the last thing he had expected to hear.
“Her magnificence Queen Bolormaa requests that you depart in a single ship to meet her at coordinates that will be sent to you shortly, and you will go alone.”
Tsetseg looked arrogant and supremely confident, but he vanished before anyone could respond.
There was silence for an uncomfortable ten seconds before it was finally broken by Captain Song.
“What do we do?”
Taylor took in a deep breath. He knew exactly what he would have to do, and so did Jones, which is why she began to weep.
“We do what she wants,” replied Taylor abruptly.
“What? You can’t do that. She’ll kill you!”
“What choice do we have? Look at that. They can kill us all if they wish. I am already dead unless I do this.”
Taylor strode off the bridge, leaving them speechless. As he left, many of the crew reached out their hands and brushed his armour. They were treating it as if it was his funeral, and he felt like it was, too. He reached the docking bay to find Alita blocking the entrance to her Stormer.
“I won’t let you go. I can’t,” she said as she cried.
He held her cheek in his hand and wiped away her tears with his fingers.
“You know I have no choice.”
He pushed her hand away and stepped up the ramp. As he reached the top, he stopped to look back at her.
“I love you,” he said.
That only made her cry more as he hit the door close.
“I love you, too!” she cried loudly to ensure he heard. As the door shut, she repeated it again, and she dropped to her knees.
Taylor moved to the controls to find the coordinates on screen. He punched them into the autopilot, and the engines soon fired up. The time passed quickly as he thought of Alita and Jones and all of the men and women he had come to think of as family. He hadn’t even been keeping time when he felt the landing gear settle on a firm surface. He went to the door and hit the release.
The ramp went down to reveal a dark and musky room. His console showed that the air was breathable, so he released the visor on his helmet. He stood at the door and waited the horrors he expected to face.
“Colonel Taylor of Earth,” a deep and raspy voice said.
He saw the glow of two red eyes through the darkness.
“I have been waiting a long time to meet you.”
“Bolormaa,” he replied in a disparaging tone.
He had already accepted that this could be the end, as he thought to himself.
If I'm not going to walk away from this, neither are you!