“Incoming missiles, deploying countermeasures. Our luck won’t hold forever, Colonel!”
As he said it, everything went quiet, and the shots stopped. They both looked at the viewing screen displaying the Nassau with utter shock.
“He’s done it. Jones has done it,” said Taylor.
He knew it was the only reason the firing would stop. As he said it, they saw a burning ship pass them at speed and barrelling out of control. Troops were bailing out from the rear door. He knew it was Captain Grey’s ship. He was amazed they had made it at all.
“Good luck to you,” he muttered.
“Poor bastards,” added the pilot.
“Poor? They’re alive, aren’t they? They’ll reach the station, no problem. It's us you should be worried about. We’re on our own now,” said Taylor, as he holstered his pistol. “Take us in as planned, and then get yourself a rifle. You’re coming with us.”
All the army pilots had been training for infantry combat, but none of them ever expected to physically be involved in it. The pilot looked horrified.
“You just flew through hell, and you’re okay with that, but getting your boots on the ground scares you?”
“You shoot, I fly. It’s the way I like to keep it.”
“Well, tough shit. Today you are whatever I need you to be.”
Taylor was ever bit as terrified as the pilot, but he’d never show it.
“You really expecting me to take up a rifle?”
“Bet your ass, I need every fighter I can get.”
He looked back, expecting to see Jafar close in behind in support, forgetting he was with Jones. For all the time he had grown to hate the aliens, it now felt strange to go into combat without one.
“Nassau is launching fighters and transports,” said the pilot.
“It’s fine. They can’t stop us now.”
They were coming in for their final descent to the defence grid. It was an intimidating sight to fly past lines of railguns and other weaponry. A single salvo from any one of the towers would end them before they could even see it coming. Knowing they were disabled didn’t calm their nerves an awful lot. Just twenty seconds later, they made their landing on one of the maintenance doors as planned.
“Good work,” said Taylor, holding out his hand in friendship to the pilot he had so recently held a gun too.
“Spears,” replied the pilot. “Lieutenant Spears.”
He wished they would all live long enough that it was worth knowing the man’s name. The ship had come to a halt, but nobody made a move. He wasn’t sure if they were waiting for his order or if they were afraid.
“We’re almost there, almost through. The World is looking to us. Just the few of us, so let’s not let them down. You’ve held true for Jones all these years, will you now follow me to victory?”
Many of them nodded, but there was no roar of excitement and approval, as he would have expected of his marines. Jones’ men were disciplined like no others and their cool silence laconic.
“Open the door, prepare to breach,” he ordered.
They leapt into action and clamped the charges onto the doors of the maintenance bay.
“Fire when ready.”
The shaped charges made a short and controlled blast that had almost no echo at all. Taylor looked in through the breach, half expecting to be met by a gun line, but the entrance was clear. He stepped inside and found the emergency lighting was already on. It struck him as suspicious, for he did not expect any systems to be operational anytime soon.
“How the hell have they got power?”
He turned to see nobody gave a response. They had no better idea than he. He didn’t know whether to be glad they had made it safely, or terrified they were stepping into something they couldn’t handle. Either way there was no choice in the matter now. He carried on through the corridor until they came out near a bank of massive capacitors. He could only imagine they were a part of the power systems of the weaponry they passed on the way in.
The room was opening up, and the ceilings were now ten metres high. It was nothing like a ship he’d ever been on. It was more like a power station back on Earth. Two metre-wide cylinders reached up from the floor to the ceiling like rows of columns, but none of it meant anything to the Colonel, other than as a marker he recognised from the research he had done en route.
“Freeze! Colonel Jones of the Inter-Allied Regiment, you are under arrest! Lay down your weapons, and no harm will come to you!”
Taylor couldn’t tell where the call had come from, but he jumped to the nearest column for cover as he tried to find the source. It was at least a little relief they didn’t know his true identity.
“Someone ran us into a trap,” said Herbert.
“Maybe, but they were always gonna be protecting this place.”
There was total silence for a moment, and they looked around for some sign of an enemy presence.
“Lay down your weapons, and this will end without bloodshed!”
Then Taylor noticed it was coming from a tannoy system in one corner.
“They’ve got us on camera. Damn! We’re gonna have a shit load of trouble coming down on us real soon.”
He expected a response from those with him, but then he forgot they were British, and they waited for his command. He looked around for the cameras which were giving away their position, but they were clearly too small and well hidden, but he also knew the defence platform was vast enough that they could only cover so many areas.
“Let’s move now!”
Taylor jumped out into a quick pace hoping he was right. No gunshots ensued, and he knew he must be. They passed on into a room full of yet more hardware that meant nothing to him. Taylor knew exactly what he was looking for, and that was all that mattered.
They knew they were running on borrowed time, but none of them expected to be caught up with so soon when they heard a string of gunshots up ahead. They were forced to duck for any cover they could find. Shots zipped past Taylor’s head, and he tried to get a fix on how many they were facing. He could already count a dozen rifles being fired ahead of them. He looked to Harris who was up against the pillar beside him.
“Any good ideas, Corporal?”
Harris shook his head. “No way around them, Sir. We’ll have to go through them.”
That's not what I wanted to hear, but what choice do we have?
Taylor drew out a flashbang from his armour and held it for just a second while he gave out his orders through their comms. “Flash, then forward.” It was simple, but he knew they would understand exactly what he meant. He threw out the grenade, and the vast room was lit up with a blinding glow. He knew many of their attackers would have had time to get to cover, but it was better than nothing. He leapt out with his shield held before him and rushed forward.
As he closed the distance, he could see the cover they were using also limited the arc of fire of their enemy, and he was heading for just two enemy combatants. It was enough to spur him on in the knowledge his shield would protect him. As he ran, he threw a frag grenade with all the strength his suit would afford him. It bounced along the floor in front of him. One of the soldiers leapt for cover, but the other had not noticed.
The Colonel was little more than five metres from the grenade when it ignited. The soldier disappeared in the blast. Taylor felt the impact halve his pace and almost cause him to be thrown from his feet. He reached the source of the blast where the body of the fallen soldier was sprawled out across the ground and riddled with shrapnel, but as he turned to find the other, his helmet connected with a gun barrel.
“Don’t move!”
He tilted his head just a few millimetres, enough to see hit attacker. The rifle barrel was touching his face and would be enough to kill him, should the soldier fire. He looked down at the man’s uniform to see he was a member of Col Moshin, the 9th Parachute Assault Battalion. He had heard of the Italian Special Forces but never met them. It got questions rolling around in hi
s head about their mission, but he knew he must first deal with the matter at hand.
Taylor wanted to reveal who he was and try to plead with the man to see sense, but he knew he could not. His identity must remain a secret for as long as possible.
“What are you doing here?” asked Taylor. “Do you want to see whole cities wiped out by these weapons?”
“Put down your weapon!” the soldier replied.
“You have to know you’re on the wrong side in this war?”
“Put down your weapon!” he yelled, just a few decibels higher.
A man who stuck to his principles, something which could be respected in all other walks of life, except when they were Taylor’s enemy. Harris rushed into view with several other of his platoon. The Italian soldier pulled Taylor in close, using him as a human shield.
“Let him go!” screamed Harris. His faceplate was raised from where he was clearly trying to get a little more air than his suit was providing. Taylor wished he could have such a luxury. Harris looked ready to fire at a moment's notice, and that was never going to endear the Italian to them.
“Put down your weapons or he dies.”
There was no option left but for Taylor to get out of it himself. His rifle was slung on his back and out of reach, and he could not stretch across his Assegai or reach down for his sidearm without raising attention. His shield was still attached to his arm, and he knew it was his best bet. He looked down to see the Italian’s foot beside him, and in one quick action smashed the shield down onto his foot.
The impact was hard enough it cracked the cap of the boot and crushed several bones in the man’s foot. He screamed in pain as he fell back, and his rifle fired a single shot that went only a few centimetres high of the Colonel. Taylor swung the shield around. He smashed it with both hands into the man, knocked him off his feet, and launched him into the air until his head connected with a support beam. His body passed beneath, snapping his neck, and he dropped limply to the floor.
He turned back and could see Harris looking impressed, although he would never admit it. He was surprised the action had been over so quick.
“How many were there?”
“Four.”
“Four? That was it?”
He knew in that moment that they were good. They had presented the image of a much larger threat than they really were, and against most other units it would have worked. But Taylor was either too experienced or too desperate to have been stopped by the danger.
“What the hell are they even doing up here? Special Forces on a guard duty?”
“I don’t think they were sent here to guard anything. I think they were sent to hunt whoever came aboard, and I’d be willing to bet we’ll see plenty more trouble coming our way before this is over.”
* * *
“How much longer do we have to hold?”
“Until the job is done, Parker!” snapped Jones.
He rose up from their barricade and fired a few more shots. As he ducked back down, he was suddenly struck with how bizarre it felt to fight an enemy who were fearful of advancing and scared of death.
Fighting humans isn’t all bad, he thought to himself, but he soon realised he didn’t believe it. Parker slid back her visor to let some air in.
“Think Taylor made it?”
Jones wanted to believe he had, the same as the rest of them.
“If anyone can do it, he can.”
At least it was what Parker wanted to hear.
The gunfire from their enemy suddenly stopped, and with it, so did their own as they no longer had any targets. Jones knew they hadn’t beaten their attackers, so it only made him feel uncomfortable.
“What are they doing?” asked Herrera.
“Whatever it is, it can’t be good,” replied Parker.
As she said it, they heard the familiar heavy footsteps of Mech soldiers stomping towards them. Parker shook her head in disbelief. “Not this again.”
Gunshots rang out before she’d even finished, and they were quick to respond. Jones took aim when he saw dozens of Mechs were pouring towards them. As they knocked a few down, they could see human soldiers behind, using the Mechs as a screen to cover ground. Explosions rang out, hitting all around them, and they were soon engulfed in smoke used to further screen the enemy advance.
Seconds later, a Mech rushed through the smoke over their barricade and came at Jones, firing and with no intent to stop. Jones leapt out of the line of fire and smashed the Mech’s weapon aside with the barrel of his own, but it was not enough to stop the charge of the creature. It tumbled into him and knocked him to the ground, toppling onto him and almost crushing him to death.
Jones struck forward at the faceplate of the Mech’s armour, but his hardest strike was not enough to break through. He tried to reach for his Assegai, but he was pinned under the alien and its weapon. It raised itself up for just a moment so that it could strike down with a thunderous blow towards his head. It would have been enough to crush his helmet and kill him instantly.
He took the split second opportunity he had to kick up with his legs and throw the Mech sideways. The creature's fist smashed into the floor barely a few centimetres from his head and dented the floor beside him. He drew his Assegai with his left hand and thrust it into the creature’s stomach. It recoiled in pain, but then spun around and struck out with its last breath. The strike hit Jones’ helmet and knocked him out cold.
* * *
Taylor was still on the move and every second praying they could make it in time. It was still a long way to the centre of the vast facility when they came up against warning signs of high explosives. He stopped; they were inside a vast missile silo.
“These go off with gunfire?” he asked.
Sergeant Herbert shrugged his shoulders, as none of them knew for sure.
“All right, we can’t take the chance. Rifles down. Nobody fires a shot until we’re free and clear.”
He let his rifle hang down at his side and drew out his Assegai.
“Why don’t we just blow this place from here?” asked Harris.
Taylor thought about it for a moment. He wanted nothing more than to put an end to it there and then and be on his way, but he thought back to what they had seen on their route in. Taking out a single silo could not destroy the vast complex. It would be isolated from the grid and do little to help.
“No, we stick to the plan.”
He felt more than a little vulnerable and naked without his rifle in hand. They were going deeper and deeper into enemy territory with just a handful of fighters. He was anxious now, scared even. He tried hard to keep his breathing in check and put one foot in front of the other. It was when he thought of Parker and Jones and all his others comrades aboard the Nassau that his willpower really kicked in.
The platoon took a bend and found a line of guns trained on them. They froze for a moment, but no shots were fired. Taylor pointed to the warning signs that were all around.
“A single shot could blow us all to hell!”
Thirty Italian soldiers stood in front of them ready to open fire, but they turned their attention to what Taylor was pointing to.
“He’s bluffing!” one of them said.
“Look around you!” he shouted back.
He could see the panic start to kick in, but they soon lowered their rifles and drew out Assegais.
“Step aside or you’ll all die here,” said Taylor.
He had no desire to fight them, but neither could he afford to have them stand in his way. No response came, so he strode forward with his shield at the ready. He knew they would make light work of the soldiers who were without shields or the experience of his own troops. Nevertheless, they stood their ground, and when their officer commanded, charged forward.
Taylor ducked under and launched the first soldier over his shield and back into his own ranks. He parried off an Assegai coming at him with his own and kicked the soldier back before driving his own into the flank of another. He did
not stop to engage a single one of the troops but worked his way through, allowing the rest of his comrades to get stuck in.
By the time he reached the back rank, two of the troops threw down their weapons and ran.
“Let them go,” said Taylor.
He knew they were terrified enough not to cause any further trouble. He looked back to see the carnage they had created. The floor was thick with human blood and bodies. He did not feel the triumph and pleasure he had when cutting his way through Mechs. It made him feel sick to know he had to do the same to his own people.
“Any casualties?” he asked.
“One dead,” replied Herbert sternly.
“One more than we can afford right now,” he replied.
Taylor didn’t even have time to ask the name of the fallen. He turned and carried on. He knew they couldn’t be too far now, but as they passed into a broad corridor, they heard a large mechanical lurch and looked ahead at the blast doors that were shutting.
“Come on! Run!” he screamed. They rushed at a full sprint for the doorways, but they were closing rapidly. He was at the head of the column and jumped through with ease. Herbert got through after him and two privates, one of which bounced off the doorway and narrowly missed being trapped in the door as he was catapulted into Taylor.
All went silent as the doors sealed shut.
“Sorry, Sir,” insisted the Private.
Taylor helped the man to his feet and could see his name, Private Little, and the other beside him Private Ball. “Shit,” he said to himself. “We’re losing numbers at a hell of a rate.”
“We need to get these doors open sharpish,” said Ball.
“If only, but you saw their depth. More than we can expect to handle anytime soon. We’ve no choice but to go on,” replied Taylor.
“Go on with four men?”
“If only one of us makes it there and gets the job done, then so be it, Ball.”
Taylor turned and led the way. He knew their chances of success with so few were slim now, but he had no choice than to continue. He wanted nothing more than to rip his helmet off and get past the stifling effect of it, but he could not, and he had to bear it for now. The stale smell and taste of his own sweat was killing him now.
Battle Earth VIII (Book 8) Page 16