Battle Beyond Earth: Resurrection (12 page)

Jones pointed to a single barrel weapon with a large square head shield. It was almost two metres in length.

"We fit these on recon and scout vehicles as well as some light fighters, single fire only. The barrels can't take the heat build up for anything suppressive. Five times the armour penetration of our K15a, they’re limited to sixty rounds a minute maximum, but they hit hard."

"Sounds like a good battle rifle."

"If you're hunting big game," replied Jones.

"Trust me, we will be. Think you can get the length down below a metre and a half?"

"There were such modifications tried a few years ago. Accuracy suffered over two hundred metres, so the plan was dropped."

"Yeah, well I guess you never dreamed they'd become our new infantry rifle. Get them modified and ready to go."

Jones nodded in acknowledgement.

"That all?"

"No. Something we learned early on, never underestimate the enemy, and there is no such thing as overkill. What have you got that has some really hitting power? Something that will go through the toughest armoured vehicle in service?"

Jones looked at him in surprise.

"Only one thing that could come anywhere near to man portable."

"I'm listening."

Jones pointed to one of the small hover vehicles like he had travelled in before. This one had the front passenger seat removed, and a three metre-long gun barrel fitted in its place. It was almost as long as the vehicle itself. Taylor knew nothing about it, but he didn't need to.

"We'll take one."

"Colonel Taylor," a voice said beside him.

He turned to find General Fin, but he knew he had not been there a moment before. He knew it was a hologram, and he could just see some image distortion to tell for sure.

"Taylor, the time for preparation is over. We have an operation departing in thirty-six hours, and we want you on it. Gather your team and be ready to depart in the next twenty-four hours."

The hologram of the General vanished before he was able to could speak a word.

"Twenty-four hours? We can't have all this kit ready by then. We'll just have to go with what we've got."

"There's that word again, can't. I don't want to hear it, Jones."

"But this is insane, one day preparation?"

"War doesn't wait for any man."

"It's still not enough time to implement all this equipment and the changes."

"Then we'll do the best we can. The suits are working. Remove or retract the pincers so we can use these weapons. Just do what you can in the time we have."

The doors to the assembly room slid open, and Taylor stepped out in the lead of his unit. A shuttle was waiting for them just fifty metres away. General Fin and five of his staff were waiting to see them off, but their faces were in utter shock as their eyes looked back and forth across the line. There were twenty-four fighters striding towards them. Every single one wore a modified heavy lift suit. All they had done was weld on two plates to the torso area for protection and painted them green. They carried the vast vehicle-mounted weapons that Taylor had selected and were an alarming sight.

"Is all of this really necessary?" Fin asked as they reached him.

"When what you're doing isn't working, you do something different.
"

"Fair point," he replied, still looking at their hardware in amazement.

"Taylor, I am placing you aboard the Guam. She's a fine ship and the Lieutenant here is already familiar with her crew."

"What's the mission?"

"You're heading into Cholan space. They've lost contact with two stations and two colonies. All reports so far would suggest those areas have been devastated. This new threat is spreading like a scourge, and it is the Cholan people who are bearing the brunt of it. We need to stem this flow before it gets any further. I know you fought for Earth, but you must understand that there is a lot more at stake here. You are not fighting for one race and one planet, but all of the Allied races and their worlds."

Taylor brushed off the General's attempt at a rallying speech.

"What's different this time?"

The General looked confused, so Taylor continued.

"This is the second time you've made contact with this new race, and both times they kicked the shit out of you. What has changed? What are you doing differently?"

Jones looked horrified by the way he spoke, but the General held up his hand to stop him before spoke.

"It's okay. I understand your reservations, Colonel. I have studied your file, or as much as I could. You've got a colourful history to say the least. I will be honest with you; a lot of high-ranking members of the Alliance think bringing you back was a waste of time and resources, and merely a pipe dream of the only two friends you had that are alive today."

"More words, they are useless. I need facts. Please cut the bullshit and answer the question."

The General sighed, but finally he obliged.

"The Aranui are sending six vessels on this mission. The Human fleet will be three times what was sent to Kepler. The Cholan Empire is amassing everything they can to rendezvous with you."

"And the Krys?"

"Lord Jafar is travelling to Tau Ceti to attempt to rally many of the independent factions there. In the meantime, he has sent his most senior and trusted servant, Sarik, to lead the Krys element of this venture, which is no small quantity of vessels. The fleet that was sent to Kepler was substantial, but only when we knew the true extent of this danger did we get the complete backing of Alliance leaders."

"Politics, it’s all crap," replied Taylor, "A threat existed and you poked it with a stick. That is no way to wage a war. You see something dangerous; you hammer it dead with everything you got. How many times do I have to say it? There is no such thing as overkill. So answer me this, General, have we really got everything there is for this mission or not?"

Fin looked hesitant to answer.

"That's what I thought."

He stepped past the General without another word.

"You think we're being fed into the lion’s mouth, don't you?" Jones asked.

"I don't think, I know."

"And yet still you go without fear?"

"I don't run wars. I just fight them. I'll work with what I've got."

Jones put his hand on Taylor's shoulder and stopped him when they reached the ramp to the shuttle.

"I get there's nothing left for you here, and you might be okay with this as a suicide mission because of some crazy death wish, but don't take us along for the ride."

"Is that what you think about me?"

"I do. I don't think you can accept this new existence. That you'd rather just go down fighting as you thought you did all that time ago, and who cares who suffers with you?"

"Then you don't know me at all, and your ancestor, my dearest friend, would be rolling in his grave. How dare you question my motivations? I gave up everything to save this existence that you now have, and one more thing; I never lead men to their deaths, not even the ones I despise."

Taylor turned and went on, leaving Jones speechless. They did not say another word to each other on the route to the Guam. When they landed aboard the vessel they found there was just a single officer there to greet them, a young female Ensign who looked unsure of how to act towards them.

"Welcome aboard, Sir," she said hesitantly.

There was no pomp and ceremony, and Taylor didn't mind that, but he could already see that he wasn't being made welcome.

"I am to show you to your quarters, Colonel," said the young woman.

Taylor nodded in agreement and followed on. He didn't even ask her name. He was more interested in the ship, but she noticed him studying it as they continued.

"Impressive, isn't she, Sir?"

Taylor grunted.

"The Guam is one of the finest ships ever made. She's fast, strong, has the best shielding system of any Human vessel twice her size. She has fifty fighter bays and the most advanced weapon systems on offer today."

"Is that supposed to impress me?"

"I hope so, Colonel. She will carry you to safety and back."

"I think that's actually our job."

The Ensign looked confused so she kept silent. Taylor was still looking at every element of the ship as he made his way through. To him it just looked like a smarter version of so many more he had served on before. It didn't look like a warship, but a civilian transport to his eyes. There were relaxation areas on every floor and every fifty metres. Lavish decor and lighting created an unnecessary ambience that seemed entirely at odds with the vessel’s purpose.

But worst of all for him was to see the faces of the crew. They were fresh and naive. A world apart from the war weary men and women he used to see every day. It wasn't that he wished it on these people; just that he knew their world was about to be rocked.

"This is the ship you went to Kepler-186 on, right?" Taylor asked Jones.

"For the second time, yes. The first vessel is still undergoing extensive repairs."

"So the crew here have some combat experience?"

Jones shook his head.

"No, Sir. All wounded were removed to undergo recovery and recuperation. Most of the rest were put on leave to get over the tragedy they experienced. They were traumatised."

Taylor was already shaking his head in disbelief.

"So you threw away any combat experience we had and started from fresh?"

"That is the way the Navy operates. Each vessel had a minimum of two full crews working on rotation. It means everyone gets enough time of their own with their families, or wherever they want to be."

"That's great when there's no war to fight."

They stopped at an entrance to the accommodation that had been provided for them. It was a narrow corridor with a door every two metres. In each door was the tiniest of rooms, just large enough for a single adult to stand up or sleep on the bed that took up almost the entirety of the space.

"Luxury," Taylor stated.

"Everybody has the same space here, Colonel. From the mechanics to myself, even Commander Cohen."

Taylor sighed. He could see no one else aboard the vessel was eager to make him welcome, so he walked into the nearest room and hit the door switch behind him. He went to the corner by the bedside and powered down his suit, stepped out, and slumped down on the bed.

He could think of nothing now but Eli. The love of his life, and it occurred to him that he didn't even have a picture of her. He tapped the info icon in the pad on his forearm that was built into his suit.

"What can I do for you, Colonel?" asked the pre-programmed female voice of the machine.

"Find a photo for me. Sergeant Eleanor Parker. USMC, and Inter-Allied Regiment."

To his surprise a photo was suddenly projected before him. It was the photo from her base ID. He remembered it well. It was taken long before the first alien invasion began. He clicked to save it to memory. Next he turned his attention to the only other connection he could think of to the ones he loved. He brought up the messages from Coco and hit play before laying back to trying to forget the world until he could get to sleep.

* * *

Taylor woke abruptly as he dreamed of his fight with Erdogan. He felt the sharp impact of the enemy Lord's blade drive through his torso, and it almost felt real. He shot up out of bed and was dripping in sweat. But as he got to his feet, he realised all was okay. He hit the door release and stepped out of the painfully claustrophobic room that was more akin to cell. Taylor couldn't help but feel he had entered a life that had been cleansed and sanitised of all he knew and liked. He turned back, pulled on his combat uniform, and strode out looking for something to occupy his mind.

He wandered through the ship without recognising a single member aboard, and likewise he was invisible to them. He thought back to the fame he had achieved at the height of the wars. He smiled to himself as he thought of how oblivious they all were to who he was. Forgoing fame and all the attention that came with it was the first and only thing he liked about this new life. He never wanted fame, only to win.

He reached a huge wall of glass and could see dozens of the crew training with gym equipment inside. Some appeared to be practicing martial arts. On the far side of the room he spotted Jones. The Lieutenant was working through a form of solo drill or kata. His movements were impeccable, like a dancer. It made Taylor laugh to think of the rough brawler nature of Charlie Jones, the Lieutenant's ancestor.

Taylor could not help but step up to the automatic sliding door and enter. Everyone inside wore navy blue tight fitting shorts and t-shirts. They looked more like professional athletes training for sport than fighting men and women. He stood out in stark contrast to them all in his fatigues and combat boots. A few stared at him, and it was clear he was expected to dress as they were, but he didn't care. He stopped two metres short of Jones and watched him as he continued through his solo drill.

Jones weaved back and forth through a series of kicks and punches. He rotated and spun in a balletic fashion. Taylor was both impressed and appalled all at once, but it made him smile also.

"I thought you didn't ever need to fight with your own hands?" Taylor asked him.

Jones did not stop but answered as he continued to flow.

"We learn to control our bodies for our own quality of life, and to better ourselves as Human beings. We have no need of fist fights in this age."

As Jones went into a spin to begin three hundred and sixty degree kick, Taylor paced confidently forward and swung a punch that landed squarely on the Lieutenant's jaw. It sent him tumbling to the gym floor. He landed hard. To his surprise he put a finger to his mouth and realised blood was dripping from his cut gums. Everyone in the gym froze and watched in amazement and horror at Taylor's brutality, but none of them could lift a finger to do anything.

Jones was still in shock for a moment as the pain surged through his face, and he looked up to see Taylor looming over him in an ominous and unapologetic fashion.

"You don't think you need to fight with your hands, anymore? So what do you do when the other guy feels like giving it a shot?"

He looked up at the audience he had drawn and raised his voice for all to hear.

"Hey? What do you do? Do you run and hide? Lie down and die? It's time you all understood what it is we do. This isn't a pleasure cruise. You aren't here for fun. When someone or something comes to kill you, and you ain't got nothing left but your own two hands, you better know how to and be willing to use them. You don't hold back, you don't pussy out, and you don't tell me we don't need that! Fight, with everything you've got!"

His words cut into Jones who was now burning with anger, and that is just what Taylor wanted. The Lieutenant swept a kick for his leg while still on the floor, but Taylor just moved his lead leg back and gave ground. Jones rolled onto his feet and now stood before Taylor in a fighting stance.