Battle Beyond Earth Box Set

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Battle Beyond Earth Box Set Page 66

by Nick S. Thomas


  “Uhhh, well the ship is airworthy. Just as soon as the engineering crews finish up with a few glitches, we are good to go.”

  “How long?” Taylor pressed.

  “About an hour, I guess.”

  Taylor sighed, but tried to hide it.

  “I want us in the air and rendezvousing with the fleet ASAP.”

  “Yes, Sir, but if I may ask, what’s the rush?”

  “The rush is we don’t know what is coming or where. So we need to be ready for anything.”

  “Yes, Sir. Please embark your people, and I will instruct the crews to work faster. If I may show you to your quarters?”

  “That will not be necessary. Have your people send out all ship’s information to my people. They can sort it themselves. You can’t afford to micromanage something this big, Captain.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  He turned and rushed aboard, leaving Taylor and his people outside. They had already formed up and awaited orders.

  “That was a little harsh.”

  “Yep, well, Jones, it seems like we just got a boy to command the most powerful ship this world has to offer.”

  “Looked to me like he wasn’t in charge at all. This ship is yours to do with as you please, and he is at your heel like a dog.”

  Taylor laughed, but he soon realised that Jones was serious. He turned around and finally looked up and admired the vessel.

  “She sure is a brute.”

  “I wouldn’t ever call her pretty,” added Jones.

  “What was that all about?”

  Alita had finally reached them.

  “The ship looks great, but Taylor has opened with his usual friendly self.”

  “You pissed off the Captain again?”

  Taylor looked surprised to hear such language from Alita. He was starting to rub off on her.

  “I wouldn’t say pissed off, more like slapped him down,” Jones said.

  Alita shook her head.

  “General Greer really pulled out the stops for us here. Let’s not mess it up.”

  “Oh, I wouldn’t say he did that.”

  Taylor just smiled.

  “I would say this ship has a new commander, and it ain’t her Captain,” said Jones.

  Taylor took in a deep breath of air as he thought it over and realised it was true. Far more responsibility was being placed on his shoulders than he ever had wanted, just as it had done so many times before.

  “Got to say, though, she is one fine ship.” Jones was admiring the vast hull.

  “She is a fine ship. I won’t deny it. Let’s just hope she fights as good as she looks.”

  “You think she looks good?”

  Taylor shrugged. “I’m not saying she is pretty, but you have to agree, she certainly has something about her. A brutish strength.”

  “Brutish? Not really a positive attribute for a lady, don’t you think?”

  “You’re wrong, Captain,” added Alita, “A lady can be brutish and beautiful.”

  Taylor nodded in agreement.

  “Case in point. All right, enough talk, let's go aboard and get this thing moving."

  Captain Jones relayed the command as they led the Regiment aboard. They paced up the ramp and stepped inside to find they were at the edge of one of the docking bays. A vast facility with six heavy assault craft that looked large enough for a company, or even two. There were still crews working all around. Taylor's Mappad flashed. All the information he had requested had been sent to him. He opened the map of the ship. It showed it to be every bit as vast on the inside as it had looked on the outside.

  "Thirty-two decks," said Jones in astonishment.

  "Size isn't everything," replied Taylor.

  "You seem so very sceptical about this whole thing?"

  "No doubt she is an impressive ship, but don't you get the feeling that she isn't ready for what we need? I mean, look at her. You can see what she was supposed to be," he said, pointing to the interior of the walkway they passed down. Parts of it were lavishly decorated and perfectly finished, where in others there were bare cabling and rushed welds.

  "Maybe they just did the bare essentials. Not like we need a parade queen."

  Taylor sighed. He wasn't convinced. "No, but neither do we need a flying coffin."

  "At least her Captain seems to like you."

  But Taylor sighed once again.

  "Oh, come on, that has to be good, right?"

  "Did you see him?"

  "Yep," replied Jones in a weary tone.

  Neither of them had much faith in the man.

  "I guess we'll know soon enough," said Jones.

  "If we live long enough."

  "You keep saying that, and yet you're still here. You talk about death too much, you know."

  "Sometimes it seems only a stone's throw away."

  "So does victory."

  Taylor laughed. "That's wishful thinking."

  "And why shouldn't we be thinking wishfully? I'd like to think that when I go to the grave, it will be with a smile on my face."

  "If only that were possible."

  "It is for those who grow old and die in peace."

  "Yeah, well, that's not our destiny, is it?"

  "Destiny, I thought you didn't believe in destiny?"

  Taylor shook his head and let out a long breath.

  "I don't know what I believe anymore. Every time I think I have life figured out, I get thrown a curveball."

  "You seem to handle it pretty well, though."

  "Maybe so." He pressed a few buttons on his Mappad to send out orders to the Regiment and carried on with Jones to the bridge. As the door opened, sparks flying from repair work being carried out on a console just one metre away greeted them.

  "That doesn't exactly fill me with confidence," said Jones.

  "Welcome aboard, Colonel!" Wilcox yelled and rushed towards them like an eager puppy, "Don't worry about this. We are just making a few adjustments and improvements before we embark."

  "I trust this won't compromise the combat effectiveness of this vessel?"

  "No, no, Colonel, the Independence is ready to crush any who stand before her."

  "Let's not get ahead of ourselves," said Jones.

  "Captain, I assure you, this ship is the most powerful of her kind. Nothing will stand against her."

  "Have you ever seen combat, Captain?" Taylor asked.

  "No, I have not yet had the honour. But I have studied a great many battles and excelled in simulation."

  Jones smiled, as he could not quite contain himself.

  "If you had, you would know that there is always something bigger and meaner out there than what you’ve got, and in this particular case, I have seen it with my own eyes. The Independence is a fine ship, but don't get carried away. The moment you think you are untouchable is when something will bite you on the ass and prove you wrong."

  The Captain nodded in acceptance, but he didn't look entirely convinced.

  "If you will excuse me, gentlemen, but I am needed elsewhere."

  He rushed off as Taylor turned to Jones with a worried expression on his face.

  "Now you see what I mean?"

  "He thinks it's the damn Titanic, and you know how that went down, no pun intended," replied Jones.

  "Watch yourself around here. This Captain is eager to prove himself, and the crew, too. We don't need that kind of trouble."

  "They're just enthusiastic."

  "You ever heard the adage 'only fools rush in'?"

  "Yes, but not like you ever took heed of it."

  Taylor laughed.

  "Come on, let's find our quarters. We certainly aren't going anywhere for a while."

  They had to make their way up twenty decks to reach the officers’ quarters, and Taylor soon found himself alone at a door with his name on it. An eye scanner over the door recognised him and opened the door automatically. He couldn't help think it was a feature that they really didn't need.

  "What's wrong with a handle?"
he said to himself.

  He stepped inside to find that they were lavish quarters, far larger than he needed. The bed was king-size and a painting hung over it. It was a dramatic piece of artwork depicting his final battle with Erdogan. It looked like some lavishly over the top renaissance era romanticised art. He was depicted as if he were a muscle bound god. He shook his head in astonishment.

  "I guess the Captain has a crush on you, then."

  Alita stood in the doorway behind him, admiring the image from over his shoulder.

  “Is this what he thinks of me? That I am some mythical hero to fight off the monsters?”

  “Aren’t you?” she asked while keeping a straight face.

  Taylor shook his head.

  “It would make sense, wouldn’t it? How do you think the great stories of the heroes were made?”

  “By writers with pen and ink, I should imagine.”

  She smiled. “No, Mitch, they just embellish the great deeds done by men and women, like that painting. People need that hope. How many of us do you think could have stood and defeated an enemy like that?” she said, pointing to Erdogan.

  He stared at it for a while as he thought back to the fight. Every time he remembered that encounter he relived the pain, the feeling of his life fading away. And yet it was nothing compared to the actual pain he felt from the wound by the Morohtan blade.

  “Though I have to say your quarters are like a throne room compared to mine, but that’s okay, as this is half mine now.”

  “Don’t you think we should stick to the rules for once? Set a standard for this new crew?”

  “Why? We’ve never have done in the past.”

  “Yes, and maybe that was a mistake.”

  “Hey, come on, it could be the end of the world. Let’s not rob ourselves of the little joy we might still get.”

  “And if the Captain has issue with that?”

  “That Captain would drop down and lick your boots if you asked him.”

  “And that’s what worries me.”

  “How so?”

  “I have had my fair share of problems with authority, but it still has to be maintained. The crew need to respect their Captain. It would be a very dangerous day that they see me as more in charge of this ship than him.”

  “Maybe you should be? You’re a better man than he can ever hope to be,” she said and laid a hand on his cheek.

  Taylor brushed it aside. “I’m being serious.”

  “What are you worried about?”

  “People expect an awful lot from me, but I am just one man. I can’t be everywhere. I can’t fix every problem.”

  “Nobody is asking you to. You have five thousand problem solvers now.” He didn’t answer, “That isn’t it, is it?”

  He slumped down on the bed and left her looking at the painting.

  “You’re thinking about Bolormaa again, aren’t you?”

  “It’s hard not to. When you have the most powerful being in the universe wanting your head, it’s difficult to let it go.”

  “All the battles you have fought and won, and still you doubt yourself. What is so different here?”

  “Against others I at least had a chance. To Bolormaa I was like a toy to be thrown around. I can’t fight her, and yet I know I will have to. When that time comes, it will be the end. The Alliance, it looks to me. Just imagine what they will say when I am beaten. They’ll say nobody can defeat her.”

  “Then let’s make sure that doesn’t happen.”

  “How?”

  “I don’t know, but we’ll find out together. Mitch, you have a cast iron willpower and fight in you that I have never seen in another being ever. All the myths and legends about you, they are all true. That is what makes you so darn unusual. You are that legend,” she said as she pointed to the painting.

  He looked up at it, as hard as that was to do.

  “I died on that plane,” he said quietly, “I don’t know why I was saved and brought back. It never should have happened. I should have been buried with all those friends I lost in that war.”

  “Seems like the universe has different designs for you.”

  “You believe that? You believe in fate and destiny?”

  She nodded.

  “More and more so since I met you. There is something about you, Mitch. Something superhuman. You can’t have got to this point without being something more than the rest of us, and that’s what gives me hope that we may yet win this war.”

  “You are going to need a lot more than just me to win it, Alita.”

  “And we’ve got it. Look around you. Some of the best-trained and equipped troops you could hope for, and in numbers you haven’t seen for a long time. And look at this ship! She’s a marvel!”

  Taylor didn’t wholeheartedly agree but was willing to let her think he did, if that let her rest and be comfortable with it all. The reality was that none of them had seen Bolormaa and her kind. They didn’t understand what she was or what she could do. Perhaps only Jones understood the true ferocity of their power after having encountered them for the first time.

  “You do believe we can win, right?”

  Taylor nodded quickly in agreement. “Of course.”

  But as she wrapped her arms around him for comfort, his mind began to travel to the same place it had done for days. He didn’t believe they could win. He didn’t believe he could beat Bolormaa. There was more doubt in his mind now than he could ever remember. He lay down on the bed and let Alita hold him as the thoughts went through his mind.

  What the hell do I do?

  He knew a lot of people were looking to him now for answers, but he didn’t have them. They didn’t know where the Morohta would attack or in what strength. They were already following his best plan, to amass an intercept fleet and respond to whatever enemy presence was identified. It wasn’t much of a plan, but it was the best he could muster. Every few hours he wished for some new piece of information, or for Irala and others to come to him with some new solution, but it never came.

  “Mitch, when you fought the Krys, did you hate them as much as we hate the Morohta now?”

  He didn’t even need to think about the answer.

  “More, a lot more.”

  She looked up at him, surprised by his answer.

  “I am sure the time will come when you feel the same about this enemy, but it hasn’t got that bad yet.”

  She nestled back down and cuddled into him to try and feel better. He didn’t want to be so straight and brash about it but knew he needed to be.

  "You know what worries me most?"

  Taylor shook his head. He really had no idea.

  "That Councillor Irala cannot provide any answers to how we beat them. The Aranui are the most advanced civilisation we have ever known, and they couldn't defeat Bolormaa."

  "No, but they were few, and we are many. Bolormaa faces an alliance now the likes of which this universe has never known. There is strength in that unity. I've said it from the beginning, and I have fought to make it happen. If we stand together, we may yet have a chance. Individually, not one of our races could hope to survive."

  "And when Bolormaa's fleets arrive at Earth, will the other races come to our aid?"

  "Of course," he replied confidently.

  As she snuggled down into him, there was a look of doubt on his face. He wasn't sure at all. He knew the Alliance was fragile, and it would remain so until they had seen some real victories. Alita went on in a slightly muffled tone as she was pressed against him.

  "You know I hate the fact that this war happened to us. I hate it, and I wish it never happened, but then I always think. If it hadn't been for this war, I would never have had you," she said as she began to cry.

  He pulled her back and wiped the tears from her face.

  "Why are you crying?"

  She shook her head. "I don't even know," she replied as she smiled back.

  He lay down on the bed and she lay beside him, wrapping her arm around him. It w
as the most comfortable quarters and bed he could remember.

  "What was it like...before all of this?" she asked.

  "Before what?"

  "Before the wars, before we encountered intelligent life beyond Earth."

  He had to think back, as it seemed like several life times ago.

  "I served many years in the Corps before I saw conflict or fired my weapon in anger. Military training exercises and simulations were all the rage, and they were fun, too. There’s nothing like conducting an adrenaline pounding assault without the fear of death. I miss those days. Back when every day I could step outside and see the Sun and breathe fresh air. As much as we have made technological progress, I can't help but feel that humanity would have been so much better off if the other races had just left us alone."

  "But that was never going to happen, was it?"

  "No," he replied solemnly.

  "If you could go back to then, would you have done anything differently?"

  That too required a lot of thought and consideration.

  "I wouldn't say all the decisions I have ever made were the best ones, but it’s hard to imagine how I could have changed much."

  "You would still have sacrificed yourself to defeat Erdogan?"

  "Yes," he replied sternly.

  "I want to make you promise you wouldn't do the same again, but I know you can't make me that promise."

  "No, I can't. This is bigger than all of us, and if I get a chance to take down Bolormaa, I don't care what it costs."

  "You think it would end the war if we killed her?"

  Taylor shrugged. "We can only hope, but it has worked before."

  "But not against the Morohta."

  "No," he replied as the possibilities swirled around in his head.

  "Seems like you have not known anything but war since we first encountered the Krys. It makes me sad that you didn't live to enjoy the peace you won. Hundreds of years, all because of you and what you did."

  "No, not just me."

  "You know what I mean, Mitch. Someday you have got to get that. You deserve it."

  "Yeah, well, what we deserve and what we get are rarely the same thing."

  He pushed her away and got up.

  "Come on, I won't lay around here all day."

  She followed him out.

  "Not like the ship is going anywhere," she added, trying to keep up with him.

 

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