"What the fucking hell have you been up to while I’ve been away?"
Jones shrugged. He wanted to smile, but he hadn't gotten over their losses.
"They hit us, Mitch, hit us pretty hard."
Taylor couldn't believe what he was hearing.
"Not the Cholans again? I'll kill every last one of them!" he replied angrily.
But Jones' tone was still quiet and filled with sadness. Mitch was silent as Jones shook his head.
"No, not the Cholans. Something we haven't seen yet. I hear Councillor Irala knows more."
"Well who were they?"
"Some barbaric crazy fighters, sent by the Morohta we believe."
Taylor look flustered. He leapt from his bed. His legs buckled a little. Jones rushed to his side to help, but Taylor brushed him off.
"I'm fine," he snapped.
He grasped the bar that had helped him get upright to begin with and righted himself. His legs wobbled once again as he began to stretch and try to use them.
"You need to rest," said Jones sympathetically.
"I've rested long enough. There's a war going on out there."
"Doesn't change the fact that you aren't a hundred percent yet."
"Fuck that, I'll make do," he said, reaching for the fresh uniform lying folded on a table beside the bed. He pulled it on and was starting to feel more stable.
"You say Irala knows something. Take me to him."
"I don't think..."
"Don't think, Jones, just do it!"
He didn't want to argue any further, but he still shook his head at Taylor.
"Stop right there!"
They turned to see a doctor rushing towards them. Taylor scowled at the man with enough intent and ferocity that he was frozen stiff before them.
"Stand beside the Colonel, and behind him, but never in front of him," said Jones.
He was speaking from experience, and the doctor could tell. He stuttered a few times, but could not move. Taylor staggered on past him without another word with Jones beside him. As he took each pace, his legs started to soften up and his stride became smoother.
"You see; I needed to be up and about. Can't lie about all day."
Jones finally laughed at the absurdity of it. Taylor had brushed close to death once again, and he shrugged it off as if it were nothing more than a common cold.
"Where the hell are we even?"
But as Taylor took a turn, he recognised the junction and realised he was just disorientated. It was Ares 4. The base that had become his home since his resurrection, but it never really felt like home. Jones was leading the way and clearly knew exactly where to find Irala. He led them to Zenobia’s Garden. Had they been looking for anyone else, Taylor would have thought he was being played a prank, but he knew just how bizarre Irala could be.
They entered the gardens to find it busier than ever, awash with both military and civilian personnel.
"What the hell are they all doing here? Haven't they got work to do? They know time is not something we have much of, right?"
"You can't work people into the ground," replied Jones.
"And you can win a war without pulling out all the stops."
"Look at them. Look at their faces. They are exhausted, physically and mentally. They are just looking for somewhere to remind them what they are fighting for. Somewhere to get away from all the shit they have to deal with."
Taylor was surprised at his use of bad language. It was out of character, and yet he was more offended by the prospect that anyone had been overworked.
"If they think they've had it tough, then they need a good kick in the ass. The hardship hasn't even begun yet. What have they been doing all this time, building, managing resources, training? That's just the beginning."
"Yes, but they don't know that, and they need to be eased in slowly. Or at least I think so, don't you?"
Taylor sighed. He wasn't impressed, but he'd had enough when they eventually caught sight of Irala. He was standing alone, seemingly doing nothing more than staring into the trees and foliage, as if deep in thought or some kind of trance. They were approaching from his right hand rear side, and neither thought they had been noticed, but as they got within a few paces, he spoke.
"What can I do for you, Colonel?"
Taylor had to go round, as Irala seemed unwilling to break his trance or form of meditation.
"You seem to know more than the rest of us, care to share?"
He looked at Taylor and nodded. "Not here."
He turned and strode onwards with an expectation that they would follow. They did so; their curiosity could not have them do otherwise. They were led back to Irala's quarters in the VIP lounges. He opened up the door and led them inside a lavish apartment like structure, ten times what they had been given. It wasn't the stark and utilitarian interior Taylor had come to expect from the Aranui. There were large water tanks with exotic fish on either side of the room and all manner of curious artefacts on display.
"This isn't the Irala I used to know," said Taylor.
"It is true, and many have criticised me for it, that I have become...more human."
Taylor laughed. "You've got some way to go yet."
"You want to know about the creatures that attacked Lieutenant Jones and his team?"
"I do. Spit it out."
"We are familiar with their kind. The Morohta call them the Amitads. But we knew them as nothing more than primitive beasts. A blunt instrument available in great number for Bolormaa to cast out across the universe to wage war for her, without wasting her own kind or the technological marvels they have created."
"You sound like you respect her for it?" Jones asked, surprised.
"No harm in appreciating the prowess of an enemy," added Taylor, "You'd be wise to appreciate all they have achieved. It will help you understand how significant an enemy they are, and what a bastard it is going to be to beat them."
"I get that," replied Jones and turned to Irala, "But it wasn't just two-legged barbarians that came at us. Those looked like wild men of a sort. But it was a much larger creature, something on four legs and huge. Too thick a hide to penetrate with our rifles, and it barrelled around like some pre-historic dinosaur."
Irala nodded as if he knew precisely.
"The Gürveliin."
"Gruver what?" Taylor asked.
"The Gürveliin. They are what and how you describe them," Irala went on, "Foul and primitive beasts, even worse than their masters. Some ride them as mounts, and they use them at worst for their brute strength and resilience. A very simple creature, yet very effective at certain tasks."
"Okay, okay, so you seem to know plenty about these things, but how are they getting here? We knocked out the Morohta's ability to navigate for jumps, so there is no way they could reach us by now without faster than light travel."
"No," replied Irala succinctly.
"Well? Where did the fucking things come from?"
"You have already found your answer, Colonel."
"They jumped in? All right, I don't know how, but they can't have got there any other way. But why jump there? Empty space. Too few ships for a solid ambush, and too small a target to warrant a trap, anyway."
"Go on."
"You said they jumped into an atmosphere that killed plenty enough of them?" he asked Jones, who nodded in return, "So they jumped without navigation and hoped for the best?"
Irala nodded.
"That's insane. It's suicide."
"Not for all," added Jones, "Think about it. If you have enough of a resource, you can just cast it out. Scattergun approach. It's a callus and horrific thing to subject your people to. I wonder who could do such a thing."
"Erdogan would have, and all those who stood before him. No respect for those who served under them, no care for their lives."
"I had this theory, but it seems crazy that it's actually true."
An alarm began to sound violently, and a voice came over the tannoy system.
"All pilots repor
t to deck. Launch intercept fighters. All bridge crew report to their stations."
"This can't be good," said Jones.
Taylor rushed to the door as quickly as he could. He still had a little hobble in his step, but it was getting better. Jones stayed with him, and Irala seemed to follow in a far more relaxed manner. They reached the bridge of the station and were allowed through without question.
There was a tall American officer in charge with a well-kept grey beard. He was calm and confident. He looked to be about fifty years old, but Taylor did not recognise him.
"Guess things have changed around here," he muttered.
"An awful lot has changed, and it keeps on doing so."
"Good, it needed to."
They watched the events unfold as the Captain went on.
"Where are the alert fighters, they should have launched sixty seconds ago?"
"That is Captain Wright," whispered Jones.
He spoke with an east coast American accent, and sounded well schooled and brought up. Though it was hard for Taylor to tell any more, as almost everyone he met sounded like the upper crust compared to his primitive ways.
"The pilots are making final prep now, Sir."
"This is unacceptable. When this is over, you will have the CAG report sent directly to me. His sloppy behaviour is endangering this station."
Taylor was a world apart from the Captain, nor had they even met, and yet he could already see they were going to get on.
"Fighters have launched, Sir."
The Captain watched every screen intently, studying all that was around him. As he turned from one station to another, he noticed Taylor.
"Welcome aboard, Colonel. I am sorry to say we have our hands full right now."
"No problem, Captain. You keep at it."
He looked down and realised he wasn't even carrying a sidearm nor wearing any armour, and that made him feel naked.
"We should gear up," he said quietly to Jones.
"You're not in any condition to fight."
"Fuck that, I'm breathing, aren't I?"
"Don't worry, Colonel. We have this in hand. This station is more than prepared to hold out against a well prepared attack, and this doesn't seem all to be that."
"Not to sound like an ass, Captain, but in my experience, these situations are rarely as simple as they appear."
"Agreed, but we can manage this."
Taylor was uneasy. He didn't like being a spectator, and even though he wanted to gear up was aware he wasn't ready. There was a scuffle at the entrance to the bridge. Alita was trying to break her way in through the guards.
"Let me through!" she bellowed.
But the two marines held her firmly in place. There was little she could do against an armoured up marine. The suits they wore provided a massive and necessary boost to human strength. Taylor was only glad that they were quickly becoming more widespread.
"Let her through!" he yelled.
The marines waited for confirmation from the Captain, but it was soon given. She rushed up to Taylor in absolute shock. He was just glad to see her, but she seemed furious.
"What on Earth are you doing here?"
"Wow," muttered Jones to himself, and he could see several of the crew smiling and a little embarrassed by the situation.
"I am precisely where I have chosen to be," he replied confidently.
"Are you fucking insane? You barely survived your injuries, and you could just as easily open them back up."
"I'm fine."
"Fine? You're not fine!"
Taylor was becoming increasingly frustrated. He could also see the base Captain was also getting irritated by the ruckus aboard his bridge.
"Lieutenant!" Taylor boomed.
She was silenced on hearing his angry and authoritative tone.
"Either stand beside us or leave this bridge."
She was shocked and surprised, and could not help but feel she had been brushed off. Yet when she looked around to the faces all around them, she had no choice but to step down. She had the right intentions but was out of line.
"Yes, Sir. Sorry, Sir," she replied for all to hear. She then took up position next to him.
"You know I'm right, though, don't you?" she whispered in his ear.
"Maybe, but if I am forced to stay in bed any longer, I am going to start killing people."
She smiled, but looking at his face, she realised he may not be joking.
"We have incoming, three enemy vessels, strike that, five enemy vessels at twenty klicks and closing."
"Activate all batteries. Order all support vessels to protect the civilian fleet. We will handle this alone."
He turned to Taylor who seemed more than a little surprised.
"This base is far more than last you knew it, Colonel. It is now a fully armed and armoured battle station that is more than capable of standing on its own. It may not have been built for that purpose, but the gears of war have been turning."
"I am glad to hear it."
"It's true," Jones added, "Without some of the changes I have seen lately, we may not have even made it back from that last mission."
He nodded in approval.
"Funny how things move on so quickly when you're at war, isn't it?"
"I am not sure that advancing the ability to cause death and destruction is progress."
"When the alternative is extermination, you can bet your fucking ass it is."
Irala had not said a word. He had been so still and quiet, he had forgotten he was even there.
"Got any light to shed here?" he asked his alien friend, who despite his age, didn't look a day older than the day they met.
"Your Lieutenant Jones was right the first time."
"But that's crazy. If they are just hurling these ships across space, they could end up anywhere. They'd have to throw out millions in order to score a lucky hit."
"Maybe not quite that many. Rudimentary navigation could have them placed in a rough area. It's still very dangerous. But if you sent a few thousand ships, then more than a handful would strike a target," added Jones.
"Fighters launched!"
They watched eighteen fighters soar out from the station to close the distance.
"Make sure the CAG knows to stay out of our fire solution!" Wright ordered.
He looked back to Taylor. "They aren't used to what this station can do yet."
Wright looked proud of the station he commanded, and Taylor appreciated that.
I just hope he can back up his claims.
"Bring our fighters into a holding pattern at five klicks."
They watched the fighters use forward thrusters to slow the descent and finally come to a halt.
"Those the same ships that attacked you before?" Taylor asked Jones.
"Yep, just the same."
"Lock the first four vessels. Fire when ready."
They waited and watched eagerly for something to happen. Taylor was becoming more and more agitated by the fact the enemy had not yet been engaged, but he had to sit back and let others do their jobs.
"I have a solution, Captain."
"Do it."
The space before them flashed with light as a hail of gunfire burst out from the ship. It was in such ferocious quantity that they lost close sight of their fighters below. The first two enemy ships were struck and blew apart immediately on impact. The third was cut in half, and the fourth smashed by a volley of fire, and yet somehow made it through. A second volley hit it with everything. It was struck by such an immense amount of fire that as the light faded, there appeared nothing left of the vessel; only the fifth remained and was still on the same intercept course.
"Why do they keep coming? Can't they see they have no chance?" Wright asked.
"Sometimes you meet an enemy that will come at you no matter what, until it draws its last breath. That is the most terrifying enemy of all, one that cannot be broken. It cannot be bought or bargained with or caused to flee."
"Target t
heir engines, and fire when ready."
A small trickle of fire rang out, and their craft was struck. One engine was blown clear off the hull, and the other was powered down. It was knocked off path slightly but was still coming at them.
"Have our fighters close and bring them to a dead stop."
They watched the fighters move into position and fire grappling harnesses onto the hull of the enemy vessel, using their own engines to slow the vessel until it came to a halt three klicks from the station.
"Launch a Marine detachment. I want that ship captured intact, and I want survivors for interrogation."
"Captain, if I may say a few words?"
"Of course, Colonel."
"If you want what is best for all aboard this station, you will blow that vessel to hell, or at the very least hull her, vent to space, and leave her till you know there is nothing living inside."
"Why? This is an enemy we do not know much about. We can surely learn a lot if we capture their ship and them alive?"
Taylor shook his head.
"We learnt all we need to know from the dead ones we brought back," said Jones.
Taylor nodded in agreement. "It is a mistake to try and take the enemy alive. We still don't know their intentions, beyond their intent to do us harm. Destroy them now, and they can do no more harm."
The Captain looked uneasy. He didn't believe Taylor was right, and yet at the same time knew the power and control the Colonel held.
"Sorry, Colonel, but this is my decision. If we are going to face this enemy, I want to know what we are dealing with."
He looked back to his crew.
"Board her. Hold position until a full inspection can be carried out, and once our people are happy, I want her brought alongside for further investigation."
He turned back to Taylor.
"Colonel, I can understand your reservations, but we need information; the knowledge and an understanding of what we face here. This is the perfect opportunity for us."
"You do what you have to do, Captain, just don't underestimate the enemy, no matter what."
He left with Jones and Hariz, and once again Irala followed them, but he didn't know why. As he got off the bridge, he stopped and turned back to face Irala head on.
"Why didn't you back me up in there? You have plenty of sway around here and not a word, why?"
Battle Beyond Earth Box Set Page 44