She put on a brave face and nodded in agreement. He stood up and assessed their position. They were split each side of the corridor, using all the bulkheads and supports for cover. The AT gun was already setup and ready.
“Whatever happens, do not turn away, do not run. You die fighting, or you don’t die at all, got it?”
No one responded; they knew they didn’t need to. He looked across at each of their faces, and there was no fear in them now. They were calm and ready. The first Stalker rushed around the corner and was immediately hit by the AT gun. The shot punched a hole right through the torso. It dropped dead and slid across the floor as the rest of the enemy took the bend. Taylor didn’t have to say a word. The hallways erupted into a hail of gunfire, everyone focusing fire on the narrow opening they were being bottlenecked into.
Taylor emptied a full magazine in no time at all and slammed in a second. The bodies of warriors were mounting up now and were slowing their progress, but Babacan’s Hydra stopped. Taylor could see he was out of ammunition, and he knew the rest of them were going through it at a rapid rate.
He went through another two magazines until he ran dry. He threw down his rifle and picked up the huge hammer he had taken from one of the Mechs. It was almost as tall as he was, but the suit he was wearing allowed him to wield it as if it were nothing more than a wooden axe. He held it at the ready behind the cover of a bulkhead and waited for the moment that the ammunition ran dry.
He was cursing under his own breath at the lack of hand-to-hand weapons amongst them. Then the moment came when several ran dry, and the others were coming close. They got off just a few more seconds of fire when Taylor stepped out with his shield before him and the hammer in two hands. A shot hit the shield, and another one clipped the face of the hammer, but he went forward without hesitation.
He pulled the hammer back and cocked it read to strike with his shield still covering him, but as he was about to take the first strike, they heard a thunderous boom from out in the main corridor where they had come from. It sent a shockwave through the floor and made the enemy stop dead and turn back. They began running away from Taylor.
“What the hell was that?” Taylor asked, expecting one of them to know, but they looked just as confused as he was. He chased on after the enemy with his hammer still cocked at the ready. As he got to the doorway, he could see flashes of light rushing past and stopped for fear of getting caught in the crossfire. He crept to the edge and peered around just enough to get a glimpse of the carnage around the corner.
He saw what was left of the Morohta forces was being cut to shreds by a sustained and relentless assault. The gunfire came to a halt, and he stepped out to get a full view. As he did so, a Krys Lord in full armour took a few paces forward and smashed down a huge glaive into the last twitching Stalker.
It brought back scarred memories for Taylor, and he froze before the alien Lord. His grip tightened around his hammer as he thought back to his epic fight with Lord Erdogan. But as he did so, the helmet of the Krys Lord retracted to reveal Sarik. He looked distinguished and old, but still as formidable as ever, or even more so.
Taylor smiled; the familiar face was a relief. He had known Sarik just a few days before he was put into suspended animation, and yet the alien had proven a great friend and ally.
“Hell, you’re supposed to be in charge of this damn fleet, what are you doing down here in the dirt?”
Sarik smiled in response.
“You once showed me that sometimes a great leader must stand at the front and lead by example,” he replied.
Taylor walked up to him and shook his hand enthusiastically.
“You know how good it is to see a familiar face?”
“You have been away from us for too long, friend.”
“Yeah, and you got old.”
“There is life in me yet.”
“What the hell are you doing here?”
“Same as you. This ship, this weapon, it must be protected.”
Taylor nodded in agreement.
They heard a violent surge resonate through the walls, and Taylor looked around in all directions for the source.
“It is the weapon firing once again,” said Sarik with a smile, “Maybe there is hope for us yet.”
“What do we do now?” Taylor asked him.
“We withdraw. This is a battle we cannot win.”
“No shit.”
“We have done enough damage that I believe they will not pursue us for now, but you should return to the Guam. She has taken severe damage and is still trying to contain a breach. We can handle this.”
He nodded in appreciation and called to his unit, “Let’s move!”
They ran back to the fighter bays at a sprinting pace and were relieved to find their Sky King still awaiting them. Taylor stormed aboard.
“Get us in the air!” he shouted before they were even all aboard.
The engines fired up, and they were off the ground just as the ramp was closing.
“You stop them?” Hariz asked, spinning the craft around.
“We’re still alive, aren’t we?”
She put all power down, and they soared back out to space. It was a horrific sight to behold. The gunfire had been reduced to a fraction of what it was. So many wrecked hulks from every race floated in such density it was as if they were flying through an asteroid belt. Bodies littered the space, too.
“Is this what it’s always like?”
“Honestly, I haven’t seen it this rough in a long time. Later years of the wars I fought, we put out a lot more hurt than we took,” replied Taylor.
Two enemy fighters zipped past in front of them and were soon followed by two Krys and a single Cholan fighter close on their tail.
“But you made it though all that?”
He could hear the fear in her voice now. She kept her cool and remained flying, but he could tell she wasn’t all right.
He placed a hand on her shoulder. Her skin-tight compression suit uniform meant he could feel her neck, and for a moment it took him right back to Parker. She took a breath in relief, taking comfort in the security she felt with him there, but Taylor quickly removed it. He felt his thoughts were betraying Parker.
“She was great to you, wasn’t she?”
“How would you know?”
“Because it takes a great love to burn a man’s soul like that.”
Taylor didn’t know how to take it. It was as if she knew everything about him.
She took them in for as quick a landing as they had made previously, but to their horror, they could see a Morohta ship in one of the bays as they put down. Taylor looked over to see their crates of ammunition were still stacked up on the loading bay not far away. He turned back to the others who were now raring to go.
“Head straight for the ammo, and take everything you can carry. We stick together and sweep and clear, got that?” He looked back to Hariz. He couldn’t just leave her behind.
“You’re coming with us. You got a weapon?”
She drew out a pistol from her side, and it opened out into a compact carbine.
“Sexy, but it ain’t gonna cut it against these fuckers. You stay back and stay safe, okay?”
She nodded in agreement, and he could not but help let their eyes meet. There was something about this woman that both interested and worried him all at once.
“Go!”
The ramp slid down, and they rushed out for the ammo. For a moment it seemed they were alone, but just as they got out into open ground, a Stalker stepped out from where it was lurking, as if waiting for them.
“Keep moving!” Taylor yelled and turned to confront it. Hariz stayed with him and took aim with her carbine. She fired two bursts that were accurate and controlled, but they did nothing at all. The Stalker seemed to circle him a little as if weighing him up. He grew tired of that and raised his hammer to go for a strike, but a bolt of energy soared from the creature and hit the centre of his torso plate. He was thrown back to
the floor, and the hammer slid from his grip. He was stunned.
He began to regain consciousness and heard the familiar sound of Hariz’s carbine chattering away, as she continued to engage the enemy. He stumbled to get up and regain his senses, but he saw the Stalker rushing towards her. He picked up his hammer but didn’t have time to move. He swung it around and launched it through the air. With a stroke of luck, it smashed into the side of the huge mechanical creature and sent it tumbling over onto its back.
He took a few uneasy paces and collapsed down next to it. It writhed about, trying to get back to its feet, though it was badly damaged. Taylor could see the clear plate protecting the organic matter of brain as they had seen in the warriors. He took hold of one of the Stalker’s own pincers and smashed it down onto the surface until it cracked. Then he reached in and pulled out the brain as he had seen Antos do. As he smelt the disgusting aroma from it, he finally passed out and dropped lifelessly onto the carcass of the Stalker.
Taylor awoke to find himself flat on the deck looking up at Hariz’s face. His vision was blurred, and for a moment his mind wanted to tell him it was Parker, but his eyes said otherwise.
“Are you okay?” she asked him.
Her voice was soft and comforting, and his vision was focusing properly now. Jones stood there with the hammer he had procured. He was cut on the cheek and above his eye, but he was smiling.
“This is a good idea,” he said, lifting the huge hammer.
“Yeah, well, don’t get too used to it. You can find your own.”
Taylor tried to get up, but he was still sore. He stopped on noticing Jones offer out his hand, just as he had done when they fought in the gymnasium. He took it gladly and was hauled to his feet. He nodded in appreciation, realising that Jones’ perspective had changed entirely. For a moment Mitch could see his old friend, Charlie Jones, in the young man.
“What happened?”
“You’ve been out for almost half an hour. We’ve cleared the Guam. Looks like we made it out.”
Taylor started walking.
“Where are you going? We need to get you to medical.”
Taylor shook his head and carried on, Jones and Hariz chasing after him. He was aching in many places, but it felt good. It was a reminder of good times. The success and ecstasy he felt after victory. Though he was also aware that this was far from a glorious victory.
“Please, Colonel..” Hariz pleaded.
But he shook his head and didn’t stop. He passed several Morohta bodies en route. Human blood was splattered across many places where casualties had been taken away. He reached the bridge to find two of his own unit standing guard at the entrance. He passed through and found Cohen slumped in her chair.
The Commander looked up at him; her expression was of utter despair.
“Many survive?” Taylor asked.
Cohen shook her head.
“Did the Nakbe get out?”
“Yes, but it is hard to see how it can do us any good.”
“Bullshit,” replied Taylor, “So we took a beating. We gave one, too. If you aren’t willing to accept the losses to fight for our survival, then maybe you are the wrong woman for the job.”
“And you think we can win this?”
“Always, and if you don’t believe it, you don’t deserve to be here.”
Cohen was shaking her head and began to weep.
“You didn’t answer the question,” he added, “Do you really believe?”
“Always. I wasn’t born to lose.”
He looked back at Jones and Hariz who stood waiting for him.
“I need a pilot to join my team, permanently. You want the job?” he asked Hariz.
“Yes,” she replied confidently.
She was beaming with enthusiasm. He couldn’t understand where that was coming from, but he was going to run with it.
“You can’t just poach my crew,” replied Cohen.
Her voice was shaky, and Taylor only shook his head, but it was Jones who stepped up.
“Actually, Sir, I have the personal authorisation of the President of the Alliance to acquire any and all resources that the Colonel requires. Lieutenant Hariz is ours now.”
There was no fight left in the Commander. Taylor didn’t know whether to be glad Jones had grown some balls or depressed that Cohen had lost hers, but either way, he was glad to have Hariz on board.
Chapter 8
"Please wait here," said one of the guards outside the conference room on Ares 4 where Jones had previously been hauled up before Alliance leaders. He hated having to return there, but this time he had Taylor leading him. They were both still wearing their crude armoured suits. They were unarmed but were still an imposing sight. The Colonel ignored the command he had been given.
"Stop! You can't go in there!" yelled the man who had tried once before.
He went for his sidearm, but Taylor simply put his hand on the centre of the man's torso and shoved him quickly. He flew back and bounced off the wall. The doors opened, and the two of them strode in with security hot on their tail. They went straight to the centre of the room, and Taylor could sense the guns pointing at his back now.
"Stand down!" a voice boomed.
Taylor turned around and looked for the source. It was Jafar. The security immediately stopped in their tracks.
"Get out!" Jafar roared.
The security went back with their tail between their legs.
"What is the meaning of this?" President Isaacs asked.
Taylor looked over to him and back to Jafar, without even looking at the name plaque projected over him.
"Who is this?"
But Isaacs answered, "I am the President of the Allied races. Who, Sir, are you?"
"This is Taylor," replied Jafar.
"Taylor? This is Taylor? The man we resurrected from the twenty-second century? He doesn't look like much."
"No, but you couldn't ask for a better fighter, and a better friend."
The alien strode across the room and wrapped both arms around Taylor in a bear-like hug. He was clearly in the later stages of his life. His blue skin had faded and become deeply wrinkled. And yet with his age seemed to have come growth. He now stood almost as imposing a figure as Erdogan once had.
"Could have brought me back at a better time, don't you think?" Taylor asked him.
"There could not have been a better time. This is what you were born for," said Jafar, as he let him go and returned to his position. It was then that Taylor noticed Irala standing beside Jafar. He didn't appear to have aged a day. Taylor lifted up his hand and gave a casual and friendly salute to the Aranui Councillor.
"What is it we can do for you?" Isaacs asked Taylor.
"You've got some psycho queen bitch roaming the galaxy, and I don't see a lot of work going on to stop her. Where are the fleets? Where are the armies?"
"The fleet that we sent into Cholan space was already the largest armada in a hundred years."
"And it wasn't enough. So where is the rest?"
"Colonel Taylor, I do not much like your tone. You may be a simple man from simple times, but I still do not believe it would have been acceptable to talk to your superiors in this fashion, even back then."
"Of course it fucking wasn't, but sometimes someone has to cut through the bullshit and say it how it is."
"Okay, Colonel. I will entertain this for a moment, but only because Lord Jafar has spoken so highly of you. Tell us, how it is."
Taylor shook his head but continued anyway.
"You are facing a vastly superior enemy. I know a thing or two about that. We took the biggest fleet out to face them, and I'd be willing to bet that what we took was only just a fraction of their strength. They are going to cut a path through this universe with no one able to stop them."
"And you have some idea on how to do things differently? Some great plan?"
"I've got an idea. It's almost a plan."
"Then please, enlighten us."
"Okay. Yo
u, we...whatever, we cannot stop this enemy. The Aranui have already told us how dangerous they were the last time they were encountered. I've seen the extent of the forces you can put together, and it ain't enough, in quality or quantity. Throw everything you can muster against them, and we’ll still lose."
"So you are saying this is it? We have already lost."
"No," Taylor quickly replied, "I am telling you that we must do something differently. You have God knows how many worlds, access to resources, manpower. The only resource we do not have is time. With enough time, I believe we could build the fleets and armies needed to take this battle on, but right now, we're fucked."
"But how can we buy time?" asked Isaacs in amazement, "You have said yourself that we do not have the fighting capability."
"No, we don't. But you’re thinking this all wrong. Every step of the way we have been on the defence here, always on the receiving end. It's time we struck a blow back that resonated through their race. Something that will stop them in their tracks, and give us the time we need."
"And how long do we need?"
"Six to nine months, I'd say."
Isaacs gasped.
"You're living in a dream. You want to attack a technologically superior enemy, and somehow think you can make a difference?"
"I didn't say I had all the answers, but I am telling you that if we do not bring this invasion to a standstill, I don't think any one of us will be here in a year's time."
Isaacs looked around the room for some comment. Nothing came, and he didn't expect it to, but then to everyone's surprise, Irala stepped forward.
"There may be a way," he stated calmly.
"Then spill it," replied Taylor.
The alien looked uneasy and unsure of whether to continue.
"Don't bullshit me now. You know I want only what is best for us all," said Taylor.
"If you know something that could make a difference, please do not withhold it from us," pleaded Isaacs.
Irala still looked very unsure. He looked to Jafar and then into Taylor's eyes.
"Please," said Taylor.
"Very well. But the information that I am about to disclose to you has kept my people safe for thousands of years. I tell you now only because I fear we may not survive this war either way."
Battle Beyond Earth Box Set Page 12