Battle Beyond Earth Box Set

by Nick S. Thomas

  “You’re crazy,” complained the Lieutenant.

  “The universe has gone crazy, didn’t you know?” he responded dryly.

  He watched as the ramp closed and the craft lift off. He waited it for a few minutes as it rose to the atmosphere, and when it was finally safe, he turned back to find Jones waiting for him.

  “We’ve got a problem.”

  Chapter 9

  Engines roared overhead as the transports lifted off. Taylor wasn't in the mood for bad news, but he needed to hear it. Jones explained.

  "The boats won't be back for an hour. We've got almost a thousand civilians remaining on the ground, as well as all of our people. Most of the fleet's fighters have to escort these transports back. Two have already come under attack trying to make it out."

  Taylor looked out to see the fighting still raged at a makeshift line of defences all around the landing area. Cars and shipping containers had been used to create a wall half a kilometre wide. He knew they had quite a fight still on their hands, but he had barely a few rounds of ammunition left to fight with. Even as he thought of how he would get by, three friendly aircraft flew overhead and containers dropped from their open loading bays. Thrusters on the containers caused them to descend slowly to the ground, and they landed all around, dozens of them.

  He rushed to the nearest one. It was two metres wide and deep, and almost as tall as a man. He released the lid and threw it off. It was packed to the brim with boxes of ammunition and grenades.

  "Wow, it's Christmas!" said Jones, "Come on, boys, grab it while you can!" he screamed.

  He soon relayed the orders across their comms. Taylor grabbed all that he could and stuffed his webbing full, as well as many more magazines into the bag that still hung over his shoulder.

  "One hour, you say?" he asked Jones.

  "That's what the Admiral said."

  "Okay, then we have some killing to do."

  He ran to the nearest opening in the defences that he could find. It was the top of a bus where half of the roof had been ripped off by some massive blast. It gave a great elevation into the street ahead. Jones leapt up beside him. The Gurvs were charging the lines in unfathomable numbers.

  "Kill them all!" Taylor yelled.

  They opened fire on full auto. There were so many targets that they barely had to aim, as there was little risk of missing a shot. They had emptied three magazines each into the horde when the bodies started to mount up. They still kept coming, but their pace was slowing; they had to stumble over the dead. As they put in their fourth magazines, Taylor said, "Now that's a Gürveliin."

  Taylor remembered now that was what Irala had told him the creatures were called.

  "Amitads, that's what they were called," he said to Jones as he looked down at the bodies.

  "I don't care. Just shoot the thing!"

  They opened up on full auto against the creature. It was two metres high with a howdah filled with the Amitad warriors that he had been calling Gurvs. They fired as it ran but were shaken about so violently that their accuracy was even worse than normal. The Gürveliin roared as it ran. It was a clumsy creature, but strong. It had been painted in a red striped pattern and covered in steel armour across much of its hide. Their bullets bounced right off.

  Taylor could see they were having little effect, so he quickly turned his attention to the Amitads in the howdah. A burst killed two, but the others soon ducked down inside for cover. He dropped his magazine and hurried to slam a new one in as the creature drew nearer. He could feel the vibrations of its clumsy gallop through the floor of the bus. He looked up for just a moment and fumbled with the magazine. It slipped out of his hand. There was no time to get another.

  "Oh, shit!" he cried out, as he ran with Jones and then jumped from the derelict vehicle. They heard the creature crash into the bus behind them. It flipped off and slid along the ground. The Gürveliin rolled over the top and flattened the body with its weight. Its riders, both dead and alive, were thrown wildly into the masses of troops.

  Taylor landed hard, and Jones crashed into him as they tumbled together and finally came to a halt. They quickly got back up on their feet. The surviving Amitads were being gunned down before they could hurt anyone, but more were rushing towards the breach in the wall. But that wasn't Taylor's biggest concern right now. He looked to the Gürveliin. It was flailing about and trying to get back up, which it did soon enough. It turned in a circle as if evaluating their strengths. Finally, it grunted twice before launching into a charge.

  Dozens opened fire on full auto, but nothing seemed to get through. It rammed into one of the ammo dumps as troops jumped out of the way, but some were not so lucky. It crashed into six of the marines. Two were killed outright on impact. Taylor's attention was turned to the breach for a moment where the Amitads were swarming through.

  "Close the breach!" he shouted.

  He knew if they didn't soon, they would be overrun. He could see stragglers breaking through across the line. The sheer numbers of the horde seemed hard to hold back. He rushed forward firing at the creatures and left the Gürveliin to the others, in the hope that they could manage to take it down. But as his magazine ran empty, he suddenly noticed the roaring sounds of the charge of the Gürveliin.

  "Taylor!" a voice screamed out.

  He turned just in time to see the creature right before him running at full speed, but he didn't have any time to respond. The Gürveliin struck him like a freight train, and he was thrown ten metres, landing lifeless and unconscious. It was seen by many, and that spurred them on to take the creature down. Jones, knowing his rifle was doing no good, drew his Assegai and charged at the creature as it stomped towards Taylor, despite the fact he wasn't moving. It was like the creature had his scent and wasn't willing to let up.

  Jones rushed to its side and thrust his Assegai behind one of its lead legs and between the plates of its armour. The blade drove deep, and the Gürveliin let out a cry of pain. It snapped around and struck him with its head. It threw him aside, and he crashed clumsily down to the ground empty-handed. The Gürveliin came right at him. He drew his pistol and fired frantically. It looked ready to eat him.

  Just as it drew near, Babacan appeared by his side and kicked the creature hard in the side of the head. It was enough to jerk its head very slightly before snapping around to counter this new threat. As it turned towards Babacan, he drew back his heavy machine gun and thrust the muzzle forward. It went right between the creature’s teeth and buried deep into its throat. He didn't hesitate to pull the trigger. A dozen heavy calibre rounds rang out, as the creature smashed and tried to snap back and forth to get him away. But he held on firm and kept firing. Blood spewed out all around his arms and the receiver of the weapon. The creature’s jaws snapped at the weapon, but it couldn't get near enough or close properly with the barrel thrust into its windpipe.

  Finally, its legs gave way, and it dropped down dead. Babacan tried to yank the weapon free, but it was buried in there for good. He stepped over to Jones who was still in shock and hauled him to his feet.

  "Are you okay, Captain?"

  Jones still couldn't find his words and looked at Babacan with a lost expression, as if he had even forgotten why he was being addressed as a Captain now. But as he caught sight of Taylor's lifeless body, he snapped out of it. He ran over to him without a care for anything else as the battle waged on all around them. A single Amitad rushed to attack him, but Babacan leapt in the way and grabbed him with his bare hands. He head butted him and took the enemy’s own crude looking sword off him, cleaving him down the collarbone right the way to his chest.

  Babacan prised the blade out as Jones reached Taylor and turned him over. His eyes were shut, and he wasn't conscious. He just flopped over like a ragdoll. He reached to Taylor's neck and was relieved to feel a pulse.

  "He's alive," he said, looking up to Babacan, but it was then that he realised how grave the situation was becoming. The creatures were right on top of them and breaking
through the lines in many places. He lifted his pistol and shot two before running out of ammunition. He slammed a new magazine in, hauled Taylor onto his shoulder, and carefully stood up.

  Babacan snapped up a rifle from one of their fallen marines and kept firing as he turned to take Taylor to safety, but another Gurv was rushing towards him. Jones fired two shots into the creature’s face and kept running.

  "Come on, Taylor, you can't have gotten all this way to be killed by some stupid beast like that," he muttered as he ran onwards. He passed a line of troops that were surging across to help at the breach and finally thought he was safe when an aircraft swooped in overhead. It slowed down to a point that two-dozen Amitads leapt off. They hit the ground hard, having no care whatsoever for their own safety. Two of them seemed to break ankles or legs as they landed, but they still staggered forward to attack.

  Marines engaged them on all sides, but it was difficult to get clean shots as they were in amongst them. He shot one that came at him, but knew he had to put Taylor down. He threw him quickly to the ground and reached for his Assegai with his left hand, only to find it wasn't there. He looked over to the dead Gürveliin to see the hilt still protruding from its body. He reached down and drew out Taylor's, stepping in front of him to create a barrier between him and the enemy.

  He activated his shield on his offhand that he also carried the pistol in and covered as much as possible while firing. He fired at one after the other until he felt a shot bounce up from his armour and skim his chin. The bullet cut deeply. It was superficial, but still enough to hurt like hell. He recoiled and stumbled backwards before his boot stopped at Taylor's body, and he remembered the danger they were all in. One of the enemy fired several more shots towards him at point blank range. He was just able to get his shield up before closing the few paces between them and lunging the Assegai deep into the creature’s stomach.

  As he drew it out, he was amazed to see the beast was still coming at him, so he thrust again and again until finally it fell down dead. He had a moment’s breathing space as his comrades dealt with the rest, and he could turn back to Taylor. He looked at his watch in hope that they would soon be rescued, but only ten minutes had passed of the hour they had to wait. He knelt down beside Taylor and shook him.

  "Come on, Mitch. We need you right now."

  But he wouldn't be woken. Jones once again picked him up and carried him over to the aid station that had been set up. Several dozen wounded lay inside. It was nothing more than a barricaded area made up of some trucks encircling the entrance of a small building. A dozen marines lay on guard at the entrance, and others were firing from the rooftop as more Amitads assaulted from the other side.

  As he laid Taylor down against the body of one of the trucks, Lorenzo passed and stopped. He knelt down to check on Taylor.

  "He's out cold."

  "Yeah, I know," replied Jones.

  "He's alive. There’s nothing more we can do for him right now. We have to keep going," Lorenzo said, as he got up and ran off to the frontline to keep assisting those who needed it. He was like a machine. He seemed to show no bother or concern for all that was going on. He didn't even have a weapon in hand as he rushed back into the fray. It was inspirational to see the medic go about his job without any worry or care for himself. Two of the marines standing guard over the wounded took an interest. They could see whom Jones had brought in.

  “You don’t let anything happen to him, you hear?” said Jones.

  “Yes, Sir,” they both replied.

  He picked up a rifle that had been left beside the wounded and headed over to the nearest ammunition dump. It was already half empty. He picked up everything he could carry and readied his rifle before looking up to evaluate the situation. He knew he was in command now, and that meant he needed to lead as well as fight.

  “Taylor makes it look so easy,” he muttered to himself.

  He looked over to two platoons waiting to fill the holes.

  “You lot, there! You, follow me!"

  He ran forwards at the head of the platoons to the nearest weak point in the line to the north. A dozen friendlies lay dead, a mix of their Regiment and those who had been supporting them. Corporal Deny was wrestling with one of the creatures and barely able to hold him back. He was holding on for dear life to the blade that the creature was trying to kill him with. It was cutting deep into his palm, but he wouldn't let go as he lunged out and punched the creature in the head, trying to get it off him. Its other hand was on his throat and trying to throttle him to death.

  Jones put the barrel of his rifle to the side of the creature’s head and pulled the trigger. Blood splattered all over the muzzle and Deny as the creature slumped down dead on top of the Corporal.

  "Ahhh," cursed Deny as he pushed the creature off him. Jones hauled him to his feet. The platoons past them and engaged the enemy to drive them back.

  "It's a dirty business, isn't it?"

  "Yes, Sir."

  "Well, it's what we signed up for, Corporal. Get yourself to the medics."

  Deny shook his head and drew out his field dressing. He bound it around his palm, picked up his rifle, and reloaded it.

  "The job isn't over yet, Captain."

  "There are no medals to be won here."

  Deny didn't seem to care. That didn't seem to be his agenda.

  "Do you know how many times I have seen militia run? What makes you so different?"

  "My father was the CO here. He died in the opening minutes of this, my brother, too. Only my sister made it out. I made sure of that. Now I fight for her."

  "Then fight well, and make your family proud."

  "Yes, Sir."

  They rushed to the defences and opened fire together. The Amitads seemed to keep coming at them as if there were a never-ending number willing to give up their lives for whatever twisted cause they thought they were fighting for. Magazine after magazine was poured into them, and yet still they came.

  They had been fighting for over thirty minutes when a burst of gunfire hit Jones and Deny. Deny went down as one hit his shoulder and the other clipped his ear. Five shots bounced off Jones' armour and another three from his shield, but one went under his armour in the articulation beside his chest. He reached down and felt blood there, but a second later an explosion rang out in front of him. He was launched back and landed hard.

  Deny was the next thing he saw over him, checking if he was okay as he was sprawled out on the ground. He was shouting questions at him, but Jones was too stunned to hear it for a few moments. Smoke arose from his face where hot shards of shrapnel had embedded, and the pain soon kicked in. Finally, his hearing was coming back, but with it the stinging pain became even worse.

  He looked down and was relieved to see he was still in one piece. He reached out for help, and Deny pulled him up as best he could. He was stunned. His vision was a little blurred, and his hearing still muffled. He leant down and picked up his rifle and tried to go back to the frontline, but Deny held him back.

  "Out of my way, Corporal. That’s an order," he said in a muffled tone.

  Deny still held him back with his one good arm. Jones was weak on his feet, and with poor balance, so it wasn't difficult.

  "Hey, hey, Captain," said Lorenzo as he appeared by their side, "Come on, let's get you some help."

  "The fight isn't over."

  "No, but they can handle it."

  Jones didn't seem convinced, and Lorenzo looked around for some way to explain it when he spotted the remnants of mirrored glass on the side of an abandoned car.

  "Look," he said and pulled the Captain over so that he could see himself.

  His face was covered in blood and scorch marks. He looked a complete wreck, and as he looked at the wounds, it was if his brain was finally accepting the state he was in. He started to feel weak and slumped onto Lorenzo's shoulder slightly before getting himself back up.

  "You need help, Sir, come on."

  He finally nodded in acceptance.
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  "All right, but I can handle it, keep working," he insisted.

  "Will you help him?" Lorenzo asked Deny.

  He could see the Corporal was walking wounded, and they both knew the medics had bigger tasks to do.

  "Yeah, I got him."

  Deny supported Jones and helped him over to the field hospital. The numbers were piling up now, and there seemed little space. Many of the wounded were lined up awaiting care with too few medics and doctors to go around. Jones could count almost a hundred wounded, and he knew there would be many more dead left out in the field, beyond help. He couldn't believe it.

  "There's just too many of them," he muttered to Deny as the Corporal helped him to sit down beside Taylor, who was still unconscious.

  "What can we do to hold them back?"

  "Nuke them," he replied.

  "But we can't survive that."

  "No, we need to get the hell out of here. We should have been out of here an hour ago."

  "But there are still people out there, my people."

  "Look at it," he said pointing at the fight going on in the distance, "You think anyone has survived out there? And if they have, you think we have any way of getting them out? This is over. We have done what we can. Any longer here and we are going to be ground into dust."

  A medic finally reached Jones and immediately recognised him.

  "Captain, how are you feeling?"

  "In Taylor's words, like shit."

  He lifted his arm, and that made Jones wince.

  "You got off lucky," said the medic.

  Jones grunted. He didn't feel lucky, and he didn't understand how the medic could stay so calm and jovial. She was young and fresh faced, and yet seemed to tackle her work like an experienced veteran. She began to apply some cleaning spray to the wound that stung and followed it up with a sealant.

  "How do you do it?" he asked.

  "Do what, Sir?"

  "Keep doing what you're doing."

  "Same way you keep doing your job," she said with a smile, "You know you're lucky to still have your eyes. You should keep your visor down."