Battle Earth: 11 (4 page)

"Well what did they say?" he asked bluntly.

"The message was very short. It read, 'Colonel Taylor. Come alone to the co-ordinates we last met.'"

Taylor didn't know what to say.

"That's all, Admiral? That's the whole message?"

"Yes. We tried to respond and get some more information, but there has been nothing. The message couldn't be clearer. They want you and you alone."

"That's it? I get no backup? You've seen how dangerous those things are."

"According to you, Colonel, we have little chance against them, anyway. So risking your life down there alone is no worse than refusing to respond to their request."

Taylor grimaced, understanding how his own words were being used against him. He looked around at the other senior staff sitting about the room and could see that all they were waiting for, and all they were willing to accept, was for him to say yes.

He thought about it for a moment. The one thing he had always been able to rely on was his own people. The Inter-Allied, and the many friends and allies he had picked up along the way.

"Taylor, you know I wouldn't ask you to risk your life unnecessarily," Huber added.

Of course you would,
Taylor thought.

But he knew he wasn't in a position to refuse, and he'd take any opportunity he could to get off the ship and onto solid ground.

"Colonel, I cannot order you to do this. Or at least, I can, but it wouldn't be fair. But I must stress the importance of this task, and you are the only one that can do it."

Taylor shook his head slowly and replied, "Okay, I'll do it, Admiral."

Huber sighed in relief.

"Good man."

"So no other stipulations? Nothing about weapons, or anything at all?"

"Nothing, but I suggest you go equipped as you were when you first met them. They are looking for some kind of consistency, so give it to them. And at least you'll be geared up for a fight, should you find one."

Alone and against the most advanced technology we have ever seen? Sounds appealing.

And yet he still felt comfort in knowing he would have a weapon to hand, even if it would do little to improve his chances.

"When do I set off?"

"They gave no indicator as to when, so we can only assume they meant as soon as possible."

Taylor stood up and started to leave.

“Colonel?”

He stopped and turned back to the Admiral.

“It is no secret that your woman is aboard.”

“What of it?” Taylor answered, indignantly.

Huber looked surprised at his defensive response.

“Be sure to see her before you leave,” he finally added.

Taylor relaxed, smiling in response at the Admiral’s unexpected purpose.

“Aye, aye, Sir.”

As he strode back towards Parker and the others, he thought about what Huber had just said. They both knew he was being asked to put his life on the line. Danger was nothing new to Taylor. But to face danger without a hope of fighting back, that was entirely alien and an unpleasant thought.

When he reached his own people, he stopped and could see Parker staring right back at him. She could see the expression on his face and instantly knew it wasn’t news she was going to like. He approached slowly. The rest of his unit stopped what they were doing and turned their attention to him. He stopped before Parker and Morris. Jafar was there, too, looming over the humans.

“This is how it is. I’ve been called down to the planet. Alone. No pilot, no back up.”

“No, you can’t go without help,” pleaded Parker.

Taylor shook his head.

“This isn’t optional. You don’t follow me. You do not leave this ship. Not any of you. This isn’t what I want, but it is the way it has to be. You know what you have to do. Be ready for anything. Stay sharp, same as always.”

“And if they strike you down?” Morris asked.

“Well then you better start worrying about this ship, as they’ll surely be coming for you,” he replied.

“Colonel Taylor, your ship is ready!” a voice called.

He looked over the flight deck to see a small fighter prepped for him. Rains was standing beside it, waiting for him. Taylor turned his attention to Parker. He laid his hand on her shoulder.

“You take care, Eli,” he said quietly, his hand touching her cheek.

He turned and headed for the aircraft.

“You know you can’t come with me, Rains.”

“No, I’m with the programme. But I’ll still be flying your ass,” he replied and pointed to a remote console set up nearby.

“You might be alone, but I’ll be flying you.”

Taylor smiled. It was the best news he’d heard all day.

“All right. No time like the now, let’s do this.

Taylor's craft soared towards the planet. He was sitting in the pilot's seat to get a full view ahead while everything was managed for him. He could tell Rains was flying, for nobody else was like him, but it did feel strange.

 
"Colonel, you see that big red button at your two o'clock?" Rains asked over the comms.

"Yeah, I see it."

"That's your get out of Dodge button. If I lose remote control, or for any reason you want to get the hell out, you press that button, you hear? It'll return you to the Washington and land you safely. It won't be as fast as me, and it won't be able to do anything fancy, but it will get you home okay."

"Home? I wish you had a button for that."

"Hey, you wouldn't want to go there anyway. It's probably crawling with alien assholes."

Taylor could not help but laugh, but he was soon silenced as he visualised that sight. Mechs occupying his home was a depressing thought that only served to stack onto the increasing depression they were all suffering from.

"You really think you can convince these sons of bitches to join up?" Rains asked.

He realised the Lieutenant was clearly of the same mind.

"I'll do what I can, same as always."

"You need us, you call, you hear?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean Captain King is ready to assault any target at a moment's notice. You send us the word, and the cavalry will be en route."

Taylor took in a deep breath and slowly responded.

"Listen to me. I don't care what happens down there, you don't come after me, got that?"

"But..."

"No buts, that's an order. I won't have war started with another race just because of me. You will not let that happen, you hear me?"

There was no reply for a moment and finally a sigh, and then, "Got it."

Eddie went silent now as they made their descent onto the planet. It was a dry and craggy land, broken up with wide expanses of flat desert. He couldn't decide if it reminded him of Nevada or North Africa, but neither were places he was keen to see again.

He could see the base up ahead. It remained unchanged from the last time he had arrived there. There was no sign of life in sight. Not a single vehicle of either race.

"I'm putting you down here, a hundred metres north of the facility," said Rains.

"All right, then. Thank you and maintain radio silence from now on, unless I break it."

"You got it. Good luck, Colonel."

Eddie brought him in on a quick, but supremely well controlled descent, and landed just as he had said. The landing gear touched down, and the engines powered down in seconds. Absolute silence followed.

It feels like being inside a sealed box,
he thought.

But when he hit the door release, and opened the vessel to the elements, he found it was just as silent outside.

Loneliness was not something he was accustomed to, nor craved, but neither had either ever given him cause for concern, until now. Now he felt cold inside. He didn't want to move. He couldn't bring himself to get out of his seat and place one foot in front of the other. He looked at the big red button that would 'send him home' as Rains had put it.

It's not home, but going back to Eli Parker and my comrades is the next best thing.

"Why did it have to be me?" he asked himself out loud, "Of all the fools that it could have been, why is it always me?"

He finally mustered up the will to stand, finding he had to tell himself over and over what to do, to walk and to breathe. Not a fibre of his body wanted to do a thing. He grabbed his rifle from the rack beside him and eventually made his way to the door. He took in a breath of the air, and that at least had a calming effect.

"Nothing else in the world like it."

He had to keep talking to himself to at least maintain his sanity, and real air helped a lot. He jumped from the doorway and felt his feet land on dry, hard ground. He looked around with suspicion, expecting to be attacked any moment. The only relief he felt was that at least he was not dealing with the Krys. He knew that whoever this race was, they seemed nothing like their sworn enemy. He didn't know what drove them or what their sensibilities or morals were, but they at least seemed to have some. He attached the sling swivel to his armour and let the rifle hang at his side, with just his right hand on the grip. He wanted to appear casual and friendly, without actually being vulnerable. He carried no shield, for he didn't want to give the impression he had come for a fight.

He strolled towards the town as if he were taking a walk in the park. He had to focus all the energy he had on appearing casual and friendly, and that meant fighting his instincts. He was approaching an urban environment with endless opportunity for ambush.

"Where the hell are they?" he muttered to himself.

He reached the edge of the facility to find empty boxes and clothing strewn about where it had been left in a hurry. A very light breeze rustled a sheet on the ground, but nothing seemed to have moved from where it was left a month before. It was a ghost town. He had suspected as much, but had still hoped there would at least be a greeting party awaiting his arrival.

“Come on, where are you? Don’t tell me this was all just to stick the knife in,” he grumbled.

He thought he heard footsteps to his flank and stopped dead, snapping his head around to look for any signs of movement in the building he was passing. His right hand took a firmer grip on his rifle, but he fought the urge to raise it to his shoulder. He was frozen solid, watching and listening for any sign of movement, but there was none. He wasn't sure if his mind was playing tricks on him now.

Mitch carried on down the road in and finally took a turn into the main square of the complex. It was a broad open space with buildings on all sides and a few abandoned ground vehicles. There was no sign of life. He strolled out toward the centre of the area. It reminded him of his days of fighting in the arena. He reached it and rotated around, looking in all directions.

"Where are you?" he asked.

Still silence.

"Where are you!" he yelled at the top of his voice so that it echoed around the buildings.

He turned and turned, finally coming to a stop when he saw a single one of the aliens standing ahead of him. He gasped in surprise.

"Where the hell did you come from?" he asked rudely.

It looked like the same one he had spoken to before, but it was hard to tell for sure. The creature's face appeared to show no emotion at all, and its skin was such a matte charcoal black that it barely reflected any light at all so that picking out features was difficult. He took his time to study its form, just as he had done before. It surprised him that it was of humanoid form, just as the Krys were.

This race was smaller and slighter than the Krys. They had an air of sophistication about them that led him to believe they were a people more of the mind than the body. It felt as if he had been studying the creature for a full minute without a word from it. He expected more of them to arrive any moment, but nobody came.

"I am Colonel Taylor. You sent for me?" he finally asked politely.

"I know who you are, Colonel."

"Can I know your name?"

The creature looked surprised. It was the first sign of emotion he had seen, and that surprise turned to an almost uncomfortable reluctance.

"Can't really have much of a conversation if I don't even know who I'm talking to, can I?" Taylor asked.

He could see the creature was thinking about his question and did not waste any words.

"My name is Irala."

"Okay, and what is your...rank? Title? What is it you do here?"

"I am here to give you our answer."

Not quite what I had in mind,
Taylor thought.

But he didn't press the matter; he decided instead to try and get in the first word to ensure he got the answer he wanted.

“So you’ve fought them before? The Krys?”

No response came.

“Irala you said your name was? Well, Irala, we call those things we fought the Krys. What do you call them?”

“I will not repeat their name here on our own world.”

Taylor nodded in agreement. He could understand that.

“So you have fought them before?”

He could tell the creature was very intelligent, and yet it simply observed and watched him and said as little as possible.

“You sure seem to hate them,” he added.

“Hate?” Irala, appearing confused.

He seemed to think on it for a while, or at least Taylor assumed it was a he. The voice was deep and strong.

“The reaction you had to first seeing one of them, even though he was among us,” added Taylor, “That is a kind of hatred that runs deep to the core. I know that hatred because it runs pure in my veins.”

“And yet you still stand beside one of them?”

Finally!

He had at last drawn some response from the creature and felt he was getting somewhere.

“It was by sheer accident that one came to be my friend. Jafar is his name. And I say he is the reason I now stand here, and hope there is some chance we can be allies. You don’t know me. I don’t know you. I am not asking for us to be friends. I only ask that we fight a mutual enemy together.”

Once again Irala seemed to struggle with the concept, as if he wanted to agree but was unable to.

“Come on. You hate them. I hate them. They stole our world and exiled us from it. I bet they did something much the same to you, didn’t they?”

The creature nodded.

“This world can’t be yours, so little populace and development. I don’t believe you came from here. My bet is they drove you to this planet. Same reason we have ended up here. Am I right?”

“Yes,” Irala replied abruptly.

“So you know what we’re dealing with. You know the shit storm that we faced. We survived it for years. Years are a long time for us. I killed Erdogan’s own blood, Demiran, with my own hands.”

Taylor noticed Irala’s eyes light up just a little at the sound of the names.

“You killed Demiran? In personal combat?”

Taylor smiled; pleased he had touched on a nerve.

“Yes…yes I did. I fought him on our own world, with my own hands against his. Nothing but bladed weapons, and I struck him down and drained his blood on the sands of the desert in a place not so dissimilar to this.”

Irala seemed glad to hear the news and at least relieved in some way.

“So you knew him? Demiran?”

Taylor knew he had to keep pressing the alien to get him onside, and press he did.

“So he crapped all over you, too? Don’t hold back. He nearly made my people extinct. So come on, share with me. We have a saying on my planet. 'The enemy of my enemy is my friend.' Is that not where we’re at?”

“Demiran. We were greatly offended by him. I was greatly offended. News of his death brings relief, if it is true.”

Taylor scowled at the creature.

“You question my honesty? My integrity? I am a Colonel of the United States Marine Corps. I am Mitch Taylor of the Inter-Allied Regiment. My word if fact, and any man who would say otherwise is not my friend.”

The creature didn’t seem offended but more curious as to his sudden change in demeanour.

“Will you stand there and call me a liar?” Taylor asked, “Because if you do, you and me are gonna have a problem.”

He unclipped his rifle, let it drop to the ground, and drew his Assegai, but the creature did nothing. He couldn’t tell if it was unsure or just curious. He had seen their power and knew what a threat they posed, but he could see a change of approach was needed, even if that meant risking everything.

“So?” Do we have a problem?”

Irala seemed amused by his question and utterly relaxed.