Battle Beyond Earth Box Set

by Nick S. Thomas

  She looked horrified.

  "I...I am just here for research. I am not..."

  "Bullshit," interrupted Taylor, "You're on board this ship at a time of war, and you are a commissioned officer. You will do what is required of you. Stay safe, and good luck."

  "But...what do I do if the enemy returns?"

  "Then you'll fight them, with everything you have."

  He acknowledged Jones and walked on past. He didn't look back again. He had to depend on Minn to do her job. He knew almost nothing about her, but the fact that she had come forward and offered some assistance when no others had meant a lot. He only hoped his instincts were right, as he was leaving the entire ship under her control.

  "Do you think this is a wise idea?" Alita asked.

  She was trailing right behind them.

  "I'd rather not, but what choice do we have? We're the nearest vessel, and if someone doesn't reach them quickly, there may be no hope of saving the President."

  "He could already be dead, for all we know."

  "But that's just it, isn’t it? We don't know, and until we know for certain, we have to try."

  "They will have a Marine detachment aboard, they can deal with it, surely?"

  Jones laughed.

  "A new ship on a Presidential escort, in what they thought was safe space? They won't cope with this."

  Taylor agreed with his assessment.

  "Seems like no matter what happens, and what we tell them, they just don't get it. Maybe this is what it'll take for the people of Earth to truly realise the threat we face. Let's just hope it isn't too late."

  "Too late? For what?"

  "To save us all."

  She slowed down to a standstill in despair. She couldn't go with them, and that was eating her up inside.

  "You keep him safe, Jones!" she yelled.

  They strode into the docking bay and found their teams were already loaded up.

  "Are you sure fifty will be enough?"

  Taylor shrugged. "I hope so, Jones. I sure hope so."

  "We could take more with us."

  "No, let's keep this simple. Aboard a small frigate like that, there is nothing two hundred marines can do that fifty can't. Stick with me," he said as he strode up the ramp of the nearest craft and took a seat. He opened a channel to them all as the door closed.

  "This is the Colonel speaking. We are going aboard a vessel that is currently carrying the President of the Alliance, and that vessel has been boarded by an unknown strength of Morohtan forces. I shouldn't have to tell any of you what is at stake here. The primary mission is to get the President out alive. The survival of the crew and vessel are secondary. The fact is; this is all about the President. We stick together and keep moving forward till we find him. It's as simple as that. It should be a walk in the park. Good luck to you all."

  As the door began to close, he looked forward to the pilot’s cockpit. Even though he knew Alita had to be left behind, he still somehow expected to see her there.

  "You okay, Colonel?" asked the pilot.

  Taylor didn't recognise the man.

  "Sure, get us moving!"

  The engines were already firing up as he said it, and Taylor watched through the cockpit as the bay doors opened, and they pulled out into space.

  "Here we go again," he whispered to himself.

  They had just gotten out of the dock when several flashes lit up the area far in the distance. Taylor's heart sank, knowing what was coming. Dozens of Morohtan vessels poured through multiple jump openings. He jumped up out of his seat and rushed to the cockpit to lean on the pilot’s shoulder for a better view.

  "What do we do, Colonel?"

  "Stay on mission. The fleet can handle them."

  "That many?" the pilot asked doubtfully and looked out to the beaten down remains of the multiple fleets that had defended Earth.

  "It'll have to do. We can't leave without the President, not if there's is a chance of getting him out."

  "But how many lives will it cost?"

  "How many more will it cost if we lose the man in charge of all this? No, it isn't our decision to make. We must do our duty to the best of our abilities."

  Taylor noticed his Mappad flashing as a personal transmission came in. He quickly answered it.

  "Colonel, this is Captain Minn. How do you want us to proceed?"

  "Contact Admiral Vega, and inform him of our mission. You are under his direct command, Captain."

  "What else?"

  "Just that we need all the time he can give us. We can't stay here and win, but you can buy us enough time to rescue the President."

  She looked stunned.

  "Get to it, Captain, and make sure we have somewhere to come home to when this is through. Good luck to you all, Taylor out."

  All he could think about was the fact that he had left Alita on the Indy, and that he could no longer protect her.

  “They aren’t responding. What do you want me to do?” asked the pilot.

  “Okay, dock at the nearest bay. We should be able to get access manually.”

  “And once you’re aboard?”

  “Seal the doors and wait for us.”

  “For how long?”

  “For as long as it takes. If the President is alive, I am not leaving without him, and none of us want to be left out here.”

  The pilot nodded in agreement, but he looked terrified at the prospect of being out there all by himself. Taylor looked over his shoulder to see his nametag. Lieutenant Dart.

  “Dart? That’s hell of a name for a pilot,” said Taylor in a friendly and jovial manner, although he wasn’t in the mood for humour, “Let’s hope you live up to it, for all our sakes.”

  “I never wanted this, Colonel. I know you didn’t either. You always fly with the same woman, I get that.”

  “Yeah, but you’ll do just fine. You’re our ticket out of here, so trust me when I say I am going to make sure you make it.”

  He seemed to welcome the news as he took them in. The landing was perfect, as good as Alita would have done, and that impressed Taylor. He noted that everyone was already on their feet.

  “All right, let’s make this quick. We move fast, and fight just as fast. The only goal is to find the President and get him out. We don’t stop for any other crewmembers, not even the wounded. It’s the crew’s responsibility to get them aboard the lifeboats, ours to get to the President.”

  “Sir, how do we know the President hasn’t already left?” Bailey asked.

  “No craft have departed yet, so it looks like they have lost power to a lot of modules,” replied the pilot behind him.

  “Keep in touch. I want to know if anyone makes it off this boat.”

  “We’re going in a little blind, aren’t we, Colonel?” Deny asked.

  “In far from ideal circumstances, I agree, but they are what they are. Now, we have a job to do, so let’s get to it, people.”

  He moved to the lower hull door and slid it open to see the access door on the hull. He reached down and placed his Mappad scanner beside the armoured console. He was sceptical that it would work, but as he watched, a light flashed and the door slid open. They were down to emergency lighting and had little more than a faint red glow aboard the Forbin. It was an eerie and unwelcoming sight, but he leapt in nonetheless. Jones was quickly in beside him.

  They knew it was a silly decision to both go, but at the same time, they needed one another to rely on. They had been through hell so many times at each other’s side that it would seem strange to be separated. That, and Taylor sometimes was able to forget it was not his old friend Charlie, William’s ancestor. He saw so much of Charlie in him.

  “Do you think he’s still alive?” Jones whispered.

  “Who?”

  Jones looked surprised. “The President?”

  Taylor smiled as he snapped back to reality. For a moment he had lapsed in a memory of what he now remembered as the good old days.

  “Yep, I do.”


  “Why?”

  “Because if he’s not, we’re well and truly fucked.”

  “That’s reassuring.”

  “Indeed,” Taylor replied sarcastically as he carried onwards.

  They took a corner and found three bodies on the deck. One was still breathing. A young woman who was reaching up and trying to ask for help, but nothing more than a gargle was coming out as she bled profusely from a neck wound. They both watched the life fade from her eyes in seconds before either of them could even move forward to help.

  "None of them were even armed," said Jones in despair.

  "They must have either been caught by surprise or running for their lives."

  "Scared and alone, that's no way to go."

  "There ain't no good way to go."

  "You went out in a blaze of glory when you were officially killed back in the Krys war."

  Taylor reached out and slammed his hand to Jones' chest. "You think I did that for the glory?"

  "I'm just saying it wasn't a bad way to go. That’s all."

  Taylor shook his head as he led them forward.

  "Lying in a pool of your own blood, knowing you'll never see those you love ever again, and you can't protect them anymore neither. No, I told you, there’s no good way to go. Anyone who says there is hasn't enough to live for."

  "And you do?"

  "Damn right, I do," he replied sternly.

  He picked up the pace but soon stopped as he heard dozens of heavy footsteps coming from his right side. There was a door up ahead, and he approached it cautiously. Just as he reached the opening, a group of eight crewmembers rushed past screaming like hell. One was shot in the back and fell as they passed Taylor. He knelt back quietly against the bulkhead and watched as a four-legged Morohtan warrior stormed past him.

  That looked like a smaller version of one of the Princes. Inspired by them, perhaps.

  Taylor didn’t make a sound. He didn’t even breathe as he watched it rush past the opening, firing as it went.

  When he was finally happy it was out of sight and sound, he carried on in the direction they had been going.

  “That’s cold,” Jones said quietly.

  “It sure is.”

  “You could have stepped out. You could have done something,” insisted Jones.

  “Neither of us knows what we could have done. All we know is what we have done, and what we must do. Keep moving.”

  Gunfire echoed through the hull of the ship, but it was hard to pinpoint exactly where it was coming from. It was a grave reminder of the urgency they needed to emphasise. Especially, when Taylor remembered what was going on in the space all around them. Something was approaching from his right side, and he stopped and waited with his rifle held high. He still had no idea what he expected to see, but he prayed that for once it would be something his rifle could hurt.

  One of the four-legged Morohtan warriors rushed around the corner. On each of its arms it had double-barrelled energy weapons that spat pulses of light towards him. It seemed as if it felt no threat or fear at all. Taylor activated his shield just in time as two shots struck it, and another two hit the doorway beside him. He returned fire with two three-shot bursts. They slowed the creature a little, but it still came at him. When it was within five metres, he opened up on full auto. He couldn't miss. Ten rounds struck the creature’s torso when it finally stumbled and hit the ground, sliding to a standstill less than half a metre from where he stood.

  He let out a long sigh, but even as he exhaled, the creature lurched out as if to strike him. Gunfire rang out beside them from Jones firing a burst into its head, and once again it dropped to the deck. The Captain strode cautiously up to the creature and kicked it while keeping his rifle trained firmly on the body. They could both see a half metre blade that had projected from one of the creature’s weapon arms in readiness to strike Taylor.

  "Thanks, Jones."

  "Ugly beasts, aren't they?"

  Taylor carried on without another word.

  "How many more of them do you think there can be?" Jones whispered.

  "Can't be many. The ship wasn't that big."

  Though he knew that was wishful thinking. The ship rocked as if it had been hit by an almighty blast, and they were thrown about the corridor. The emergency lighting cut out and left them in complete darkness.

  "NV on," ordered Taylor.

  He pulled the visor down and activated it. The scene before him lit up. It was far more sophisticated than the night vision equipment he had known back in his day. The colours were muted and faded, but at least it was better than the vile vomit inducing green glare he was used to.

  "Everyone okay?" he asked.

  He saw them nodding in agreement.

  "If the power is completely out, the air won't last long. Who knows what was lost from that breach as well," said Jones.

  "All the more reason for us to move our asses. We're close now, so let's get this done before the ship is torn apart."

  Taylor wanted nothing more than to turn back and flee to the Indy, but he knew he had no choice but to press on.

  Chapter 3

  "Protect the President!" a voice yelled out as gunfire followed it.

  "Come on, we are there," Taylor replied and ran forward without any care or caution. Up ahead he found a breach in the sidewall of the bridge where the enemy had bypassed the huge blast doors and gone through the skin of the wall. The bodies of two Morohtan warriors and a few of their drones lay at the breach. Taylor was impressed, but he looked through the gaping hole to see a single Morohtan creature making for the remaining two marines. The rest of the crew cowered behind their consoles.

  One of the marines was frantically trying to reload. The other was pouring fire into the creature. The Morohtan seemed to be out of ammunition and was rushing at them with blades extended ready for some murderous onslaught. Taylor opened up on full auto and was quickly joined by Jones and two others as they advanced in a line. Dozens of shots struck the creature’s back, as it descended on the two marines. It finally collapsed dead to the deck.

  He saw the relief in the two men's eyes. They thought they were about to die and were now unable to move a muscle.

  “The President, where is he?” Taylor shouted sharply.

  “Over here!” a voice yelled.

  He went past the men and beyond the Captain’s chair to find Captain Fortier kneeling beside the President. He held a pistol in his hand ready to defend him with his own life. The Captain drew back. Taylor could see a pool of blood on the President’s shirt where he had been hit in the chest. He was still conscious, but coughing up blood, too.

  “Lorenzo!” Taylor barked.

  The medic pushed through quickly to reach them.

  “Mr President, we are here to get you out of here,” added Taylor.

  He was just about able to nod in recognition, but they could all see that he was in a bad way. Lorenzo sealed the wound and plied the President with some drugs. He then looked to Taylor, his expression grim.

  “Will be make it?”

  “He shouldn’t even be moved, Colonel, but I guess we don’t have any choice, do we?”

  “No, if we can get him back to the Indy, can he be saved?”

  Lorenzo shrugged.

  “Maybe, but we’re gonna have to be fast, and I can’t make any promises.”

  They both knew it was a far from ideal situation.

  “That’ll have to do,” replied Taylor.

  He looked around to see the crew in a terrified state. They had no control left of the ship.

  “If you want to live, get to the escape boats now. You will be picked up. You have my word I will do everything in my power to save as many of you as I can. But if you stay here, you will all die. Run for your lives, while you still can.”

  He looked to Lorenzo. “Bring him, now!”

  The President groaned in pain as the medic hauled him with ease onto his shoulder. The power of their suits allowed him to carry the man as if he was
little more than a backpack. Taylor released his magazine and slammed in a new one in readiness for what was about to come.

  “We’re getting the hell out of here. Bailey, bring up the rear. The rest of you, follow me!”

  He rushed out of the breach with Jones close by his side.

  “You think he will make it?” Jones asked.

  “I have no idea, but it’s out of our hands. Right now, we just have to get the hell off this death trap.”

  They could still hear the faint sounds of gunfire and screams of panic running through the corridors, but nothing seemed all that close. They ran onwards. Taylor looked down at his Mappad every few seconds to make sure they were following the route that had led them there. He kept looking ahead and then down when suddenly a Morohtan warrior leapt out in front of him. He instinctively ducked down and spun as it swung for him with one of the blades on its weapon arms.

  As he hit the sidewall, he heard a deafening roar as Babacan’s Gatling gun opened fire. The room was lit up from the gunfire. The creature was knocked back from the weight of fire. Just a small proportion of Babacan’s shots penetrated its thick armour, but it was enough. It slumped down dead, and as he looked up, Jones was offering his hand to help him to his feet. He took it and quickly continued on the way they had been going.

  “Nasty, those things,” said Jones.

  “Damn right, just when you think you have a big enough gun.”

  “I guess the arms race never ends?”

  “Never, and I’m sure about that.”

  He was already beginning to realise that they needed to up gun, but he wasn’t sure how they were going to manage it. These new Morohtan warriors were well-armoured and resilient foes, and he suspected he would be seeing a great many more of them. They kept going and finally reached the door they had come in from. Taylor stopped to allow the rest to carry on past as he covered them. Jones did the same on the other side of the doorway.

  They watched as the President went past on Lorenzo’s shoulder. He didn’t even look conscious. They felt several impacts hit the outer hull around them, and the supports began to creak and give way. The pilot’s voice came over the comms a few seconds later.

  "Colonel, we need to hurry this up. Much longer, and we'll all be going down with the ship."