Battle Beyond Earth Box Set

by Nick S. Thomas

  The crowd looked shocked, but it was hard to tell who were more surprised, the humans or the Krys.

  "A fine display," said Babacan.

  "He ain't half bad, is he?" Taylor grinned.

  Turan defiantly struggled back onto his feet, but he had lost a lot of speed. It was clear that Jones could finish him off with more leg kicks, and yet it wasn't what he wanted. He had made his point, and now he was going to ram it home.

  "Those pips could be yours, if you could but beat me. Me the little puny human!" Jones shouted.

  Turan looked furious and rushed forward with all the speed he had left in an angry assault.

  "Big mistake," whispered Taylor.

  Turan reached forward to try and grapple, but Jones nimbly flipped both his legs up so that they wrapped his neck and spun around, taking him to the ground. He landed hard and was disorientated, but Jones still rolled off and put some distance between them. He knew better than to stay in a grappling scenario with such a powerful opponent. Turan got back to his feet, but the fatigue was really starting to show now.

  Jones ran at him and leapt into the air. Turan tried to raise his hands for defence but did not have the strength or speed to manage it. Jones' fist landed right between his eyes and knocked him down onto his back. Jones landed on his feet triumphantly as he bounced around the makeshift arena. Turan tried to get back up, but he slumped back down, unable to find the energy.

  "Do you concede defeat?"

  Turan nodded, and Jones walked up in front of him, offering a hand to help him up. Taylor saw it was a gesture that went a long way with the Krys at the sideline. Jones hauled the beaten officer to his feet who looked a little sheepish. Taylor stepped into the arena to say his piece.

  "A fine display!" he stated as he began to pace around the arena. He knew he had to choose his words carefully. He wanted to make friends and comrades of the Krys, not enemies.

  "Never judge a soldier by his size or his age. Too many warriors have fallen at my feet who did. This should have been a friendly exchange, but Turan wanted more. We are all equals here. You, the Krys, are bigger and stronger than us, but that does not make you better. But it does give you assets that are valuable to this Regiment."

  Nobody said a word.

  "So that's how its gonna be. Anyone who has a problem with that better leave now. I want you to mingle. I want you to talk and drink and laugh together, because that is what will keep us going. That is what will keep us strong when we're waist deep in blood and bodies. You think it's easy to keep going forward when that time comes? I know you can all fight, but beyond that, the most important thing is that you have confidence in the man or woman beside you. I need to know that exists between each and every one of you. This isn't just a job. This is a family."

  He turned to Turan and asked him, "Are you with me?"

  Turan nodded in agreement and respect.

  "I am," he stated.

  Taylor turned back to the crowd.

  "Are you with me!" he shouted.

  The Krys warriors roared with agreement and excitement and were soon joined by the others. Taylor stepped back to Jones who was still grinning like an idiot.

  "Nicely handled."

  "Thanks."

  Taylor turned to Turan who hadn't left. He looked like he was waiting for some kind of punishment.

  "We are going to get along you and I because we have to. I spent many years hating your race. I wanted to see every one of you dead, and I would have done it if I could."

  Turan looked surprised.

  "But you know what? Sometimes we are wrong. All of us are, just as you were today. None of us are infallible. Nothing wrong with that, just so long as you are willing to accept it and move forward."

  "Yes, I am," he stated humbly.

  "Some of my best friends have been Krys. That seemed like one of the most unlikely of scenarios just a few years ago. Or at least what was a few years ago for me. Your Lord Jafar saved my life, and I his, more times than any of us can count. And now, Babacan," he said, pointing to the alien at the sideline, "I couldn't hope for a finer man to be at my side. I want us to have that relationship. No, I don't want it. I need it. Are you willing to rise to that task?"

  He nodded.

  "I was wrong about you, about you all. I am surprised, but yes, it is true. You are a great fighter," he said to Jones who stood beside Taylor.

  "I will be honoured to fight beside you, and I will make sure that the rest of my people do the same."

  "No shame in being wrong," said Jones.

  "Thank you."

  Jones held out his hand as a peace offering. Turan took it enthusiastically.

  "You must teach me to fight like you do."

  "I can do that."

  Turan turned and headed back into the crowd. They could see that most of his own kind took him in gladly, but there was one who stood apart and did not look impressed. Taylor gestured towards Babacan for him to come forward.

  "That one. Why does he look at Turan that way?"

  "He doesn't respect him, wants his job."

  "Fuck sake, what is it with these guys?"

  "They are not of my cast. Tough, but not intelligent."

  "You don't say," replied Jones.

  "Is this going to be a problem?" Taylor asked.

  The rebel stood on the sidelines scowling at Turan and his supporters.

  "Not for now, but soon. He will strike when the time is right, when Turan is weak."

  Taylor sighed. "We got most of them on side, at least."

  "Yeah, Jones, it's gonna have to do. I forgot how much I hate having to command such vast numbers. It's unwieldy, and too large to be the family we have always had.

  "We can try at least."

  "When Bolormaa arrives, we will soon become small in number again," said Babacan.

  They both turned and looked at him in surprise. That wasn't much of a relief.

  "He's right," said Jones.

  "I know. That's what makes it so uncomfortable to hear."

  "So what now?"

  "We’ve made our point as best we can. Now let's enjoy this night as it was meant to be. Who knows when and if we will ever get another like it."

  "Come on, Colonel, you must have been to hundreds of parties like this."

  He shook his head.

  "Not really. They were few and far between, and still, I never faced something like Bolormaa."

  "Nonsense, you faced off against some of the toughest creatures in the galaxy and have still come through."

  "Yeah, but this time it's different. Bolormaa makes them look pale in comparison."

  Taylor realised he was setting the seed of doubt, and that would do no one any good.

  "Ah, don't worry about it. We'll find a way. We always do. Now how about those drinks?"

  Alita strode up and wrapped her arms around him.

  "Not bad, Captain," she said.

  "I do what I can," he said with a smile.

  "Hell of a party the General threw us. Looks like you finally found an ally at the top."

  Taylor nodded. "If only we could have more like her. We have been fighting amongst each other too long. Weak, just like an enemy would want us."

  "But we are together and strong now."

  "Yes, that we are," said Taylor as he looked out and admired the scores of strong fighting men and women all around him. It had been a long time since he had stood in command of such a formidable body of fighters, and it felt good.

  "I don't know how this is gonna go down, nobody does, but at least now we have the teeth to fight this battle the way we always should have."

  Taylor got his drink and took a seat at a table for an elevated view so he could see as much of the party as possible. He was taking it all in and enjoying it as much as he could. He found his glass empty soon enough, and yet there was always someone handing him a new one. He needn't ever get off his butt.

  "You know you still haven't talked much about Bolormaa and your time over ther
e on her ship?"

  He turned to see Alita was asking the question. He had been thinking about the exact same thing and about what had happened.

  "You still have no idea why she let you live?"

  He shook his head.

  "I did everything I could to take her life in there. I accepted it would cost my own and was willing to pay that price for a chance at her. But still I failed, and yet she let me live. I keep thinking over and over about it. Was it some matter of honour that she let me live, or is she just toying with me? Did she not want to make a martyr of me, or maybe sent me back beaten in order to demoralise our people? Too many possibilities, and I haven't got a clue which it is, if any of them."

  "Maybe it doesn't matter which. She is out there and is coming for us. We are gonna fight. Maybe that is all that matters."

  It made a lot of sense, and he smiled in response. Maybe that was the best way, to just not worry. It's the way he used to live. But the way he used to live cost him everything, including all those he loved.

  "You expect to see her again, with your own eyes, don't you?

  "Yes, people like her always do. Maybe in the early days it was just coincidence because I was in the right, or maybe the wrong place at the time. But now monsters like her seek me out as a kind of challenge. People keep calling me some kind of mythical champion or hero, but I am not. I am not that man. I never was. But I fear my reputation has gone too far. I can't be what people want me to be."

  "Yes you can, just not alone. You need help, like you always have, and we will always be there with you. The next time you face Bolormaa, it won't be alone."

  He nodded appreciatively. He hated the idea of Alita having to be in on that fight, but it made the prospect a little less terrifying as he remembered back to how she saved him from the last Morohtan Prince. There was strength in her that he was only just starting to understand. He began to laugh.

  "What is it?"

  "Hey, you killed that last goddamn Prince, maybe you can be the people’s champion. Maybe you can be their fallen hero or whatever the Krys call it."

  "Dusmus Kahraman," she replied with perfect pronunciation.

  He looked surprised.

  "You might be it, but I certainly am not," she replied, smiling at him.

  He took another drink from his glass and breathed out a sigh of relief, finally relaxing.

  "Let's make this a night to remember, huh?"

  Chapter 4

  Taylor awoke with an almighty headache and a dry mouth, but he opened his eyes and found Alita lying next to him, and that softened the blow slightly. He looked at his watch to see that it was the afternoon already and their free time was almost up. He didn't even remember getting to bed, but he felt like he had slept for a day.

  "What time is it?" Alita groaned.

  "Late, very late."

  She groaned once again as he got up and dressed.

  "Where are you going?" she complained.

  "We've sat around long enough. It’s time to get us back to the fleet."

  "But the Morohta won't be here for days."

  "And you trust what Bolormaa says?"

  She rolled her eyes.

  "Exactly. Come on, we have work to do. Grab your gear. We move out soon."

  She sighed but began to get out of bed as he stormed out. He found himself amongst temporary barrack rooms, and Jones leaning against one of them. He was clearly waiting for the Colonel.

  "Let me guess, we are leaving?"

  "Bet your ass. We had our fun. Now it's time to get back out there and ready for anything."

  "Have we received any orders to do so?"

  Taylor shook his head.

  "Last orders I had were to return to fleet after our work was done here, and that's exactly what we are gonna do."

  "And the few thousand men and women we are gonna take with us?"

  "Most of the ships in the fleet have little in the way of Marine contingencies, and those that do have suffered plenty of casualties lately. We will find space."

  "That won't be necessary, Colonel."

  The General was standing behind him with two of her staff. He quickly saluted, but she remained casual.

  "An elite fighting force such as yourselves need the support to get them safely to where they are going, and you are going to get it."

  "Forgive me, Sir, but you seem to be full of gifts lately."

  "This wasn't my call, but I certainly leaned on more than a few people to make it happen."

  She held out a hologram projector and activated it, showing the scene of a vast ship on a dockyard. It looked complete and ready to go. Larger than any carrier in the human fleet, it wouldn't come close to the Nakbe, but it was still a mammoth vessel.

  "Marine assault carrier, the largest of its kind ever built. Laid down before this war began, but now improved and modified upon its original plans. It wasn't due for completion for another year, but crews have worked day and night to get her ready."

  "She's ours?"

  "Pretty much. She has a good crew, and a Captain who is a great admirer of yours. She is ready to go. I'll have transports made ready to take your Regiment to her within the next two hours."

  "What is she called?" Taylor asked, still feeling stunned.

  "The Independence, the largest ship of the human fleet. Enough assault craft to deploy an entire regiment simultaneously, fighter support, and ground attack craft. Armour thicker than anything ever built on this world. She will be the pride of any fleet she heads."

  Taylor was silenced.

  "Begging your pardon, Sir, but you seem to carry an awful lot of weight around here," said Jones.

  "Yes, Captain, and I intend to put it to good use. Good luck, gentlemen, and happy hunting."

  Once again she turned and left, leaving them in utter astonishment.

  "She really does like you," said Jones finally.

  "Makes a change. I have spent my life battling with authority, and now I have them on side. What is the world coming to?"

  "I guess when the end is nigh people think a little differently."

  "No, if only that were true. Form them up, Captain, all of them. You have thirty minutes.”

  Jones looked sceptical.

  “They all hit it pretty hard last night.”

  “As did I,” snapped Taylor.

  Jones had a look of compassion towards them that Taylor could not ignore.

  “All right, one hour, but no longer!”

  He looked down and noticed a patch on Jones' uniform that had not been there the night before. Two crossed yellow Assegais on a black square.

  "What's this?"

  "Compliments of the General, our new tac signs." He reached into his pocket and handed a pile to Taylor. It made him smile.

  "She sure does take care of us," Jones said as he walked away.

  Taylor turned back around to see Alita’s head sticking out through the doorway of their quarters. She had a smile on her face, and clearly hadn’t got dressed yet from what he could see.

  “An hour?” she asked, “Lot can happen in an hour.”

  Taylor smiled and followed her back in.

  * * *

  “Oh, my God,” said Alita.

  Taylor and Jones leaned in to see what she was looking at from the cockpit. The craft banked and finally the object of her amazement came into view – the Independence. It was a grandiose sight. It was at the head of a column production line of eight other ships being constructed, but none of them was even half her size.

  “The General got her for you? If you weren’t mine, I’d have told you to kiss her.”

  “Maybe I should have,” replied Taylor as he looked at the behemoth.

  “Sure struck gold this time. Have you ever seen anything so beautiful?”

  Taylor nodded in agreement with Jones and watched as crews applied the name to the side of the hull. It was clear that the vessel had been rushed into service. The timing couldn’t have been better; he only hoped she was ready.


  “You don’t look too happy about it?”

  He shrugged.

  “You ever find that if something seems too good to be true, it usually is?”

  “I did, until I met you, Colonel,” he replied confidently.

  Taylor groaned. “You know I’m gonna miss the Guam.”

  “Indeed, but I doubt Captain Song will miss the situations you always put her in,” replied Jones.

  Alita brought them in to land at the head of dozens of transports far larger than what they had arrived in. Taylor was at the door in seconds of them putting down. He stepped down to see the last of the construction crews removing equipment and scaffolds. The new Captain stood at a broad ramp leading into the ship with four other crewmembers. He walked up to the Captain and saluted.

  The man looked young for such a position of power, maybe not even thirty. He looked fresh and eager.

  “Welcome, Colonel, I have been looking forward to meeting you all my life.”

  The Captain could barely contain himself and held out his hand to Taylor. Mitch accepted it, but he didn’t seem all that enthusiastic.

  “I am sorry, Colonel, you must forgive me. It’s just so exciting to finally meet you.”

  The man was positively shaking. He looked like a clean-cut new officer right out of the Academy. Fresh faced and not a mark on him. His uniform was the most perfectly kept Taylor had seen in a long time. He was slight and fragile compared to the combat hardened troops standing before him.

  “I…I…”

  “Just breathe, Captain. I’m a man, not a god.”

  He nodded in appreciation and seemed to laugh as if he didn’t believe it. Taylor looked stern, and that made him change his tone.

  “Sorry, Colonel. My name is Captain Wilcox, and welcome to the Independence. The greatest Marine assault vessel and carrier ever built by man. What do you think of her?”

  “Sure is big,” replied Taylor.

  “She needed to be, Colonel. The finest armour, the finest armament, fighters and assault craft. Everything you could want to take the fight to the enemy.”

  “Yeah, I’ll be the judge of that.”

  “Of course.”

  “How long until you are ready to depart?”