Battle Earth: 11 (5 page)

“If you killed the Lord Demiran, I would know how so that my family can revel in the fact. We suffered a tremendous loss at his hands.”

“All this technology and power, and you were not able to kill him yourself?”

“We are few, and they were many.”

“Yes,” replied Taylor, “And sometimes no matter how good you are, and how hard you fight, it isn’t enough. This is how we got out here to begin with.”

Irala seemed to agree and understand but moved little more than his eyes. Taylor could see he was getting somewhere. He was tapping into a hatred that ran deep, and he felt it, too.

"But they are far fewer now. We might have lost the war and our planet, but they paid a dear price for it. You may be few, and we are few. But together we could be strong enough to..."

"To what?" Irala interrupted.

Taylor paused for effect and to reel the alien in.

"To win," he finally said, barely any louder than a whisper.

Irala was silent and clearly thinking deeply about what he was hearing.

"You know we can do it. We have a shot. Or we just get chased round the universe and hunted down till all of us are dead."

"Colonel Taylor. I am here to inform you of our answer."

Shit!

He knew he had lost his attention. He knew he was close to getting him on side, but he didn't want to be as rude as to interrupt.

"We will not enter your war, nor do we perceive you as an enemy. However, your presence here brings unnecessary danger to this world, and we insist that you leave and do not come back."

Taylor shook his head.

"How? How can you let us go to our deaths, knowing those bastards will only come for you when you too stand alone?"

"We have lived here peacefully for longer than you have drawn breath, and probably generations before you."

Taylor thought it curious that the alien seemed to have an understanding of the human life span in comparison to his own, and that got him thinking.

"You've seen us before, haven't you? You knew of the existence of humanity?"

Irala said nothing, but Taylor could tell by his lack of response that he was hitting the nail on the head.

"Then you must have been to our world. You must have seen it? Oceans and forests for as far as you can see."

He kicked the sand beneath his feet.

"A place like this on Earth is the kind of shithole that is easily avoided. I mean no offence, but hell you can do better than this. I'm betting your own world wasn't anything like this dusty hell?"

Irala blinked his eyes as if in some kind of recognition, the first time Taylor remembered him doing so.

"So no. We're not asking to live here with you. I'm asking you to help us take back our world, Earth, and for us to live there together. God knows there's enough room for both our races since the wars have devastated our population."

"I am sorry, Colonel, but we have made our decision."

"So all this time we've been waiting. All this time you've stood here and exchanged niceties with me, and it was all for nothing?"

"We have met. We have exchanged words, and we part without conflict. What is the problem?"

"The problem is you aren't seeing sense or logic. You send us packing, and we're dead. Ever since Erdogan turned up, we've been fighting a losing war. Sure we might last a few more weeks or months. Maybe we'll even get a few years on the run. But he'll find us and he'll kill us all. I want my planet back, and the only way that's gonna happen is if we work together."

"We have made our decision," Irala replied sternly.

Taylor could see he was wasting words and time now. He turned to walk away and got a few paces before stopping and looking back. He was angry now and couldn't contain himself.

"Is there nothing that will make you see sense? Is there nothing that will change your mind?"

No response came.

"Then fuck you for wasting my time. Fuck you for leaving us to die. You just handed Erdogan his final victory."

Taylor didn't wait for a response and doubted he would get one anyway. He turned back and stormed off back towards his transport. As he did, he cursed and spat, and voiced his anger to himself. He was fuming and wanted nothing more than to hit something. He reached the ship, climbed aboard, and slumped into the pilot's seat.

"Goddamn aliens! Useless."

He reached for the console and opened a channel.

"This is Colonel Taylor to the Washington."

Just a few seconds later a response came, and it was the Admiral himself. It was clear the bridge crew had been waiting silently for his call. It was obvious to everyone how important his mission was.

"This is the Washington. You okay, Colonel?"

"Yeah, ready to come on home," he said with a sigh.

"Do you need further assistance down there, Colonel?"

"Negative. They want us off this world and out of here."

In those few short words, he had explained all there was to say.

Why couldn't that alien asshole break it to me simply?
he asked himself.

"All right, Colonel, come on home," came the response, "I'll have you put through to your pilot."

Taylor could hear the immense disappointment in Huber's voice. Knowing they weren't going to have to fight should have been a relief, but they both knew it only meant a more prolonged battle to the end against Erdogan. Eddie's overly excited voice came over the comms once again.

"Colonel, what's going down? Glad to hear you're still breathing."

"Yeah, I'm still here."

"So how'd it go?"

"Well, put it this way, I'll be the last human to ever step foot on this dusty piece of a shit planet."

"That well, huh?"

Taylor couldn't help but smile.

"How do you stay so goddamn chirpy, no matter what?"

"How are you always such a badass?" he responded.

Taylor couldn't think of a response, but he got the idea.

"So what, this is the way we're born? I was born to slug it out fighting every asshole across the galaxy, and you were born to be a wise cracking cheery son of a bitch?"

"Sounds about right."

"Well, okay then, nice to know some things never change."

"Consistent and steadfast, that's me."

"Just get me out of here," replied Taylor.

"You got it."

The engines began to power up.

"You know we really..."

Eddie's voice was interrupted by a loud crack that echoed through the speakers of the craft, and then the feed went silent.

"Eddie? Rains? You there?" Taylor asked.

No response. He was getting anxious now as the engines powered down, and he knew the remote access had been lost.

"Rains?"

There was still no response. Now Taylor was really starting to worry. He reached forward and punched the big red button that would send him home. He waited for just a few seconds, and nothing happened.

“Oh, come on!” he yelled.

He smashed his fist down on the button once more and just as it connected, the engines fired up. He realised he was being impatient, but he couldn’t help it.

“Come on, you piece of junk, let’s move!”

He felt the power surge as they lifted off the ground, but at a snail's pace compared to how Rains would have done it.

“Move, move, move!” he shouted.

He knew it would get him nowhere, but he could not contain himself. He gripped his rifle and held it close; knowing all he could do was sit and wait. He opened another channel to the Washington.

“This is Colonel Taylor to the Washington, please come in.”

No reply came, so he repeated the same message. Still nothing. He sat back now and just waited. It seemed to take an age to get to the edge of the atmosphere, and he watched nervously for the first glimpse of space. Never before had he been so eager to get into space.

“Please be nothing, please be nothing,” he muttered to himself over and over. But he knew deep down that something was up. The atmosphere began to thin, and he got a first blurred glimpse of what he was heading for. He could just make out flashes of light, orange and yellow patches of light in the distance. He couldn’t focus yet or workout what he was seeing.

Then finally he broke orbit, and the view cleared up. He gasped at the fearful sight before him. The fleet was being bombarded by constant fire from more Krys vessels than he could count, and at the centre of them Erdogan’s own ship. The very same ship they had fought so hard to disable when they escaped from Earth. He was instantly hit with flashbacks of the way the alien Lord had thrown him about like a ragdoll.

“My god,” he whispered.

He got up to the edge of his seat and tried to think of something to do, but he knew there was nothing. His shuttle was making its way back at a leisurely and casual pace. He looked out and could see the Washington was being hit by shot after shot. Pulses were ripping holes in its hull and assault craft were heading her way.

Taylor shook his head. “This must be the end. This is what it must look like,” he said to himself.

Above all else, he was furious he wasn’t there aboard the flagship to go down with her. A number of other vessels stood alongside her and were giving as much back to their attackers as they could. The rest of the fleet were on course for the planet. Taylor knew Irala's people could well fire on them, but it was a better chance of survival than facing the Krys.

Huge pulses of light burst from Erdogan's ship, the Fatihi, and tore the hull from the Washington as if she were a tin can, and yet she kept firing. He was drawing closer to the remainder of the fleet now and passed alongside the vast barges that housed the only known survivors of the human race.

Taylor watched the battle rage for fifteen minutes. It was like seeing a frigate duel as the vast ships battled it out. He could see they had no chance, and Huber must have known it. It was clear he was merely trying to buy the rest of the fleet enough time to reach the planet. Every single person he cared for in life was in the battle, and he was helpless as he watched them being torn apart. His shuttle was still making its way to the fight, but he was still a few minutes out, and he wondered if he'd even get past the gunfire. He slid the visor shut on his helmet to seal his suit, knowing there was a good chance he'd need his own air.

"This is your end," a growly voice said behind him.

He almost leapt out of his skin and jumped from his seat with his rifle at the shoulder. Erdogan stood there, and it sent a shiver down his spine. He knew there was no chance it could be his real physical presence, but he wanted to be sure. He drew his combat knife and launched it at the alien. The blade passed right through and bounced clumsily off the wall behind him.

Taylor was relieved to find it was a hologram, as he had suspected. Erdogan didn't move, and he carried no weapons. He stood upright, looming over Taylor. His head almost reached the roof of the crew compartment, and he carried himself with arrogance.

"What do you want from me?" Taylor asked.

"Your life...but not until you have watched your people die. I want it to be the last thing you ever see."

Taylor could think of no witty response, and neither did he want to. He turned away and slumped back in the pilot's seat as if he were a broken man.

"You could never win," added Erdogan, "You struggled to overcome the lesser of my kind. You barely made it through. And when met with a real enemy, you died in your masses and ran like the weak cowards you are."

Taylor tried to ignore him, but he could still feel his heart pounding. Initially, it was from the surprise of Erdogan's voice, but now it was from bitter hatred. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught a glimmer of movement at the side of the cockpit window and turned to look. A rippling effect seemed to pass him by, and then another. He could not tell the size or distance of these anomalies.