Battle Earth II (3 page)

“Step on it, Silva!”

“Won’t go any faster, Sir!”

“Fuck!”

Mitch locked his launcher shut and threw it back up on top of the roll bar as a pulse smashed into the roadside, showering them with dirt. He wiped it from around his eyes. He didn’t have to give any commands as the other marines were already bringing their weapons to bear. The four Mechs banked hard and quickly around the intersection to join the pursuit. Jimenez fired first with a launcher.

The three launchers fired in quick succession turning the street into a ball of black smoke and flame. They must have done some damage, but at least two Mechs burst through the black cloud. Taylor dropped his launcher and quickly reached for the rifle slung on his side, but it was too late. A burst of light surged from the enemies’ weapons and struck under their vehicle.

The rear end of the jeep lifted, and they were tossed into a tumble down the road. Taylor held on as they rolled over and over. They were finally stopped by the wall of a bank, smashing to a quick halt and almost breaking Taylor’s neck with the impact. He had remained conscious and quickly looked around for the other marines. Mitchell’s body was gone and Jimenez must have been thrown from the wreck. Blood poured down Silva’s face, but he was still alive.

“Get out! Now!” shouted Taylor.

He took hold of the bent roll over bar which had saved their lives and hauled himself out from the roof. The vehicle lay on its side with the chassis facing their attackers. His rifle was still attached to him by his sling, but the launcher had been tossed from the vehicle.

“Paria, where are those ARMALs?” he shouted.

The shocked and disorientated marine snapped back into action and fumbled with his pack, finally handing them out. He took one in hand himself and lifted himself up out the side of the vehicle, quickly taking aim at one of the Mechs that was rapidly approaching on foot. He fired and an explosion, which was followed by the sounds of debris scattering across the street, suggested he’d scored a hit, but it was too late for him. An energy pulse struck his chest and sent his twisted and mangled body falling back to the bottom of the vehicle and resting against the Major.

Taylor looked at Silva with a hopeless expression. They had both accepted that they had met their end. A second later, another energy pulse struck their vehicle and tossed them once again. Taylor came to his senses a few moments later, and sharp pain pulsated through his leg. He looked down and realised he was trapped. Silva was unconscious beside him.

The sound of heavy footsteps grew near as the last remaining Mech approached to check for survivors. Mitch knew he had only seconds to act. He frantically looked around for a weapon, but his rifle was partly crushed by the vehicle, and his handgun was jammed against the bodywork. His hands reached all around until at last he got hold of an ARMAL launcher. He prized it open, armed the charge and then lay back flat.

The hulking metal enemy appeared before him with its pulse cannon held ready to finish the team off. Taylor didn’t give the enemy soldier a second to respond. He pointed directly at the Mech and fired. Mitch dipped his head slightly to give his face some protection from the blast. Metal shards splintered all over the scene as the Mech exploded unto hundreds of pieces.

Taylor lay back down, breathing heavily. He was more satisfied than relieved to have gotten some payback for his fallen marines, but he knew the struggle was far from over. The Sergeant was still lifeless, and he could only hope he would awaken soon. Taylor placed his hands on the roll bar and tried with all his strength to push the frame to free his leg, but it was to no avail.

He was all alone in hostile lands, trapped and without a weapon to hand. The Major had never felt lonelier. He wished for nothing more than to be back at his home on base the other side of the Atlantic, enjoying the company of Eli. He looked back into the vehicle. Paria was long gone. He could only pray that Silva would awake, or he’d be a goner.

“Fire! Keep firing!” shouted Kelly.

The line of twenty Moon Defence Force soldiers were huddled behind a make shift barrier defence, desperately struggling to hold the enemy back. They had succeeded in hampering the enemy’s efforts on the colony but had yet to reclaim any ground. Martinez leapt up beside him and fired his launcher, hitting a Mech square on and shattering it into a twisted wreck.

“We must fall back, Sir!” Martinez shouted to him.

“No! We must keep fighting!”

The Commander leapt up and fired quickly with well aimed fire. He knew that the fight was lost, but it pained him to have once more pushed for ground above the surface and to have failed again. He ducked behind cover and dipped his head, disillusioned with their fight for survival. Martinez looked down at their leader, knowing that he had to act.

“All units fall back! Fall back!” he ordered.

He grabbed the Commander by the shoulder, hauling him to his feet and into a run. Energy pulses flew past their heads and blasted into the interior walls. The troops around them gave covering fire and quickly followed suit. It was another sore defeat for the Moon forces. They clambered down the hidden access tunnels leading underground, and all was quiet once more.

Kelly and Martinez headed up the column of soldiers as they strolled between the lines of civilians. Their faces were dirty and equally as grim. The Commander could not help but think that he was failing the people he was employed to protect. Kelly could barely make contact with the men and women he passed. A few patted him on the back, but it gave little relief.

They finally reached the command centre that had so recently been set up. Lewis sat at the improvised comms desk. He had scavenged more and more equipment over the last week. He spun around in his chair, and his smile quickly left his face as he could already tell the result of their fight. Kelly strode past him and slumped into his chair, throwing his rifle roughly onto the desk. The clatter of the heavy weapon made several nearby jump. They could see their leader was losing faith in the war.

The Commander took his helmet off and wiped his sweaty brow. The cuff of his jacket was dry and coarse from ingrained dirt and debris that they’d not the time, nor willpower, to clean out. As he placed his helmet down, he turned to see a boy of less than ten years old stood in front of him holding a steaming mug of coffee.

“Sir, this is for you.”

The boy handed the mug to him. Kelly could not help but smile at the gesture. It reminded him that all was not lost yet.

“Thank you, what’s your name?”

“Miguel,” the boy confidently replied.

“My son,” said Martinez. He strolled past and ruffled the boy’s hair.

Kelly took the mug and nodded in gratitude. He turned to Martinez.

“Assemble the command staff.”

“Sir?”

“Whatever we are doing, it isn’t working, so we need to re-think our operations.”

“Yes, Sir, I’ll get right on it.”

“Sir,” said Lewis, “we now have direct lines to most of the tunnels. I can put the word out for you.”

Kelly nodded for him to do so. A week without the communications equipment they had become so reliant on, plunged them into a dark age that they had quickly adapted to. The luxury of organisation from a central base had almost been forgotten by the Commander.

“Get them here ASAP, we have work to do.”

* * *

Charlie Jones still sat amid the rubble of the city they had fought so viciously to defend. He slowly ate from a food ration pack that was steaming from the integrated heating element. The food tasted better than most people would think, but he barely even noticed it. He was still stunned and deeply reflecting over recent events. He could hear footsteps getting nearer, but it didn’t concern him as he was surrounded by friendly troops.

“Captain Jones.”

He looked up to see Captain Friday.

“What can I do for you, Captain?”

“You have been ordered back to command.”

“Just me?”

“Your whole unit, Jones.”

“What happened to the Inter-Allied Company?”

“You’re asking the wrong man. Major Chandra is awaiting you there for further orders.”

Jones’ eyes lit up. With all their losses in the previous week, they wanted nothing more than to get some familiar faces back.

“The orders were quite clear, Captain. They want you there immediately.”

Jones got to his feet with a weary sigh. His knees were sore from their patrol, and his body felt more exhausted by the day.

“Any word from the Major?”

“That’s a negative. Taylor is still scouting the northern sectors.”

Jones nodded, and he knew they could be of no more service there. He picked up his rifle and turned to face his troops who were scattered around the rubble. He no longer knew what to call the remnants of his troop. They had been 2
^nd
Battalion, then 2
^nd
Inter-Allied. They had amalgamated the surviving sections so many times that he simply had no idea what to call them anymore.

“2 Para! On me!”

The Brits got up with a startled expression. They had barely gotten any recuperation time and had gotten well settled into working with Taylor’s marines. A few groans rang out, but nobody questioned the orders. The battle weary group got to their feet and followed the Captain back behind the front lines to the nearest motor pool. The remnants of their unit were now able to squeeze aboard a single truck, and it was a sore reminder of their losses.

“Sir? What’s the deal here?” asked Green.

Jones shook his head, not knowing or particularly caring.

* * *

Rain beat down all around the vehicle. Taylor was mostly shielding from the ferocious downpour, but it was starting to run like a river through the street. He had not seen rain like it in years, and the drains were already spilling over. The Major was alerted to movement in the vehicle. He lifted his upper body slightly to investigate. His Sergeant was rousing with a drowsy and slurred cry of pain.

“Silva, Sergeant,” he said.

Taylor’s legs were still trapped beneath the vehicle, and he only wished they were still strong enough to carry him. Silva didn’t answer at first. He was dazed and subdued. He was facing away from the Major, but Taylor could still make out the blood around the man’s collar.

“Sergeant Silva.”

Mitch wanted to shout, but he would not risk drawing any attention to them. He repeated himself, hoping that he could get through. The Sergeant quickly turned his head looking for the origin of Taylor’s voice. He turned fully and caught sight of the Major. A broad smile widened across his face. Much of the blood had congealed, but it still trickled between his teeth and out of his mouth.

“Thought we were goners, Sir.”

“Not yet, Sergeant.”

“Anyone else make it?”

Taylor shook his head. Silva’s smile quickly vanished.

“We’ve got to get out of here, no telling when they’ll send more troops.”

“Can you move?”

“No, how about you?”

Silva turned and tumbled in the over turned vehicle, crumpling hard onto the ground. He sighed in pain, feeling the many bruises and worse.

“We made it this far, Sir, so we aren’t stopping now.”

He dropped out of the vehicle and quickly surveyed the scene. The road was scattered with debris from the ruined Mechs. He could see the bodies of their fallen comrades, and it was evident that they were long gone. He looked up to the skies, and the heavy and relentless rain hammering down on him. It was a relief to feel the clean running water wash down his gritty and dust ingrained equipment. He looked back to the Major, and he could see that the roll bar of the vehicle was crushing his leg.

“You ready to push?”

“Anything that’ll get us out of here.”

The Sergeant took up a good lifting position.

“Ready? Three, two, one, lift!”

The Sergeant was a tough marine, more than most. He shrugged off his head injuries as if they were nothing more than an inconvenience. With all their might, they lifted the corner of the vehicle just a centimetre. It was enough to get clear. Taylor hauled his legs out. The heavy vehicle dropped with a muted landing onto the running water.

For a moment the Major lay flat out on the road, glad to be free of the wreck and enjoying the freshness of the storm. Despite the torrent of water, the street still smelt of burning metal and electrical systems. He sat up and tried to move his legs. Shock filled his face as he stared at the Sergeant. They both realised what he had discovered.

“My leg, I can barely move it.”

“At least it’s still attached. Get you back to base, and they’ll have you patched up in no time.”

The Sergeant reached into the smashed wreck of the jeep to salvage any weapons and ammunition he could.

“One launcher, one rifle, that’s it. Ammunition could be better, too.”

He looked back down to the stricken Major.

“We need to get a splint on that leg.”

“Agreed, but we should get off this street first. The enemy will surely be here to investigate before long.”

Silva slung the launcher onto his back and hauled the Major to his feet. He handed the rifle to Taylor and threw Mitch’s arm over his shoulder. The two looked down the street to the south, and the direction of friendly forces.

“There, the hardware store will do us just fine,” said Taylor.

Silva put on a brave face, but they were both aware of the danger they were in. They scrambled for over a block to the shop but were severely hindered by the injury. The Sergeant laid the Major to rest and pulled out a door breaker. It was a small pressured device that wedged between the door and its frame, expanding until the lock broke. He readied himself to tackle the alarm system, but nothing signalled the break in.

“Guess they didn’t set the alarm,” said Silva.

“Aliens invading your city, would you bother? Poor bastards were running for their lives.”

Mitch looked up and down the long street once more. It was still eerily silent and with no sign of forces from either side. He hobbled in through the door with the assistance of Silva and reached a small desk where he dropped down and sat.

“We’ll need some strong bars and tape.”

“On it.”