"Understood!"
Bailey soon reached them, and Taylor gestured towards Jones for him to follow on after her. Taylor was the last of their team aboard when he heard a hissing sound. A Morohtan four-legged warrior was just two metres away. It had its weapons trained on him, and he couldn't get through the door without taking fire. They couldn't afford to risk not getting the President out. It was though the creature knew this and was baiting him into personal combat.
Jones could tell what was going on, but he didn't have a view of the creature.
"Come on," he whispered.
He stood his ground. "Shut that door, Jones, and get the hell out of here," Taylor answered softly, so as not to alarm the creature.
"I won't."
"You will, damn you. We came here for the President, and I'll be damned if I will let this mission fail."
An impact rocked the ship once more, and the floor beneath Taylor's feet began to buckle. He closed his helmet in readiness for what he knew was coming.
"Seal the door!"
Jones clamped it shut just in time as a tear appeared in the wall. Air quickly vented through the breach, and Taylor took hold of a grab handle nearby as he was pulled towards it. He held on for dear life as his feet were pulled off the ground, and a passing body caught his rifle, tearing it from its sling. He watched as the body and weapon were sucked through the breach that was now almost a metre wide.
Fuck!
He watched the Morohtan creature try to dig its claws into the deck and walls. That slowed its descent to the breach, but it couldn't find anything solid enough to take hold of. Finally, it was wrenched from its final hold and smashed into the wall where the breach was. It was pinned to the wall and sealed most of the hole, though Taylor was still being pulled toward it. Cracks appeared in the wall around the Morohtan where the hull was breaking up. Further impacts rocked the vessel. It wasn't going to last much longer.
"Fuck it!"
Taylor reached down and drew his Assegai, letting go of the handle so that he was sucked towards the creature at immense speed. He thrust his Assegai forward. It drove all the way to the hilt, as he crashed into the beast with enough force that the breach finally gave way, and they burst out into open space. He drew out the blade and stabbed again and again as the creature flailed to try and fight back, but it soon went limp. He let go of the body, and they began to separate as he turned to see the battle unfolding all around him.
"Colonel, use your boosters to decelerate, and we'll pick you up," said Dart over his comms.
Taylor was relieved to see the transport not far from his position. He disapproved of the fact that they had not taken the President to safety, but he'd certainly have been a dead man if they had not. Gunfire flashed past him in both directions, and explosions erupted as the intense battle waged on all around him. He looked over for just a few moments to check on the fate of the Resolution. To his amazement she was still in the fight.
He activated the boosters on his armour and brought himself in line with Dart's ship, lowering himself onto the upper hull. He took a firm hold on an aerial section, knowing they didn't have time to try and get him aboard.
"All right, go, go, go!" he yelled through the comms.
The engines lit up, and they soared forwards. It was a short journey back to the Indy, but they still had to duck and weave as fire zipped past them. Taylor couldn't help but feel vulnerable out in the open. Just when he thought nothing else could go wrong, he felt something clip his back, and he was knocked aside. He lost his grip on his right hand and was forced over to one side by the impact. He wasn't hurting, so something must have just glanced him. He pulled himself back up to reclaim his position.
"You okay, Colonel?" Dart asked.
"I'm okay!"
He looked down at his Mappad and found a red warning light was flashing. His oxygen supply was draining fast, so fast that he could see the indicator dropping by the second. He reached down and stretched a carabineer from his belt and latched it onto the aerial mounting. He couldn't affect his air supply, but there was nothing worse than being left out there in the darkness of space if he became so weak that he couldn't hold on. He’d latched it on firmly and held on tight, watching and hoping. They had covered half the distance when the red flashing light became solid red, indicating that he had completely run out. He only had what was left in his mask now, and it didn't last long at all. His vision began to blur, and he remembered an explosion flashing before his eyes before he finally lost consciousness.
* * *
Alita watched in sheer terror as the transport came in for a rushed combat landing and skidded to a halt on the deck. She could see Taylor's lifeless body hanging over the side of the fuselage. She reached the craft as the side door slammed down, and Jones was out like a lightning bolt. He leapt up onto the top of the craft and cut the cable that Taylor was suspended from with his Assegai, lowering him to the deck where Alita and an awaiting medic were immediately at his side.
They released his helmet, and a second later his eyes opened and sprung to life as he gasped to take in air, coughing as he tried to get up. The medic pushed him back down, and he wasn't able to fight it.
"Colonel, can you hear me?"
Taylor nodded as he still coughed and couldn't get any words out.
"How many fingers am I holding up?"
He pushed the medic’s hands away as he finally regained the strength to sit up and push the woman away.
"Colonel, I must check your physical and mental state," she insisted.
Finally, he was able to get some words out in a coarse voice.
"There are plenty more people that need your help. Go bother them."
She looked to Alita who only nodded in agreement. "He's fine."
The medic begrudgingly agreed and quickly ran over to Lorenzo when she saw him carrying a patient. As he lay him down on a trolley, her eyes widened in shock; she had recognised the patient. For a moment she wasn't even able to move a muscle.
"Stop gawking and help, or do you want to be responsible for the death of the President of the Alliance?" Lorenzo asked in a surprisingly calm tone.
Taylor could tell he had seen enough blood and death that it didn't rattle him anymore, or at least that was the face he showed to the world. Taylor could relate to that. He had a hard job, and so many relied on him to make it look easy. Alita threw her one good arm around him and pulled him in tight. He wheezed as the wind was taken out of him.
"Sorry," she exclaimed.
"Help me up."
She tried, but couldn't manage it with all that he weighed in his gear and her injury. Jones helped, and he was soon on his feet, even if he did feel rather unstable. A lifeboat opened nearby, and Captain Fortier stepped out with the bridge crew they had left behind when they rescued the President. He looked lost, as if he didn't know what to do.
"Fortier!" Taylor called over to him.
The Captain shambled over to him with a stunned look on his face.
"The Indy needs a Captain. Wilcox is wounded and will not return to duty for the foreseeable future, if ever. I am a marine, not a sailor, do you want the job?"
He shrugged. "Not really."
"Good, well you’ve got it, anyway. Report for duty immediately, and take any of your staff with you. They will likely be needed."
He slowly nodded his agreement before gesturing towards the survivors who had come with him. Taylor had no idea what kind of Captain he would make, but the list of those qualified to do so was rather slim at present.
"Do you think the President will pull through?" Alita asked.
"I don’t know, we can only hope. How goes the fight?"
She sighed, and he could tell from her response that it wasn't good. He tapped a few keys on his Mappad for a direct line to Vega. The Admiral was projected before him in a matter of seconds, as if he had been waiting for Taylor's call. Sparks were flying in the background, and warning lights flashed that lit the Admiral's face up with a pulsati
ng frequency.
"We can't take much more of this, Colonel. What is the status of the President?"
"We have him, but I can't say whether he will survive."
Vega sighed in despair.
"Honest opinion, Admiral, can we win this fight?"
He didn't need to say a word, as it was written all over his face. Taylor reached out for Jones’ help and and began to make his way to the bridge.
“What do we do, Colonel?”
They both knew that everyone could hear them on either side of the line. Nobody was in any doubt as to how grave the situation was. He thought back to the day he was in this very situation before and knew what he had to do. It made him sick to the stomach to know it was their only choice, but it was that or death.
“We run,” he replied faintly.
“What?”
“You heard me, Admiral,” he replied clearly, “We cannot win this fight. We have taken a goddamn beating. We need to go while we still can, repair and re-group, and come at them fresh another day.”
“And leave Earth at their mercy?”
“She’s in a damn better state than when I had to leave her in the Krys wars. They have whole armies down there that will do their share of this fight. Let’s get out now, or we’ll be no good to anyone.”
The Admiral didn’t want to accept it.
“Admiral, you gave me command of this fleet to do what needed to be done. Now I am telling you what needs to be done. Put it on my head. I don’t care. Just get us the hell out of here!”
Vega was going pale at the prospect of doing what he had sworn an allegiance to protect. Taylor, Jones, and Alita stepped into an elevator that would take them the final way to the bridge.
“Where can we go?” Vega asked in desperation.
An idea shot into Taylor’s head as if it were destiny pointing her finger.
“Erzurum,” he responded without hesitation.
“What? Why would you want to go back there?”
He thought back to the primitive and savage world that almost cost his old comrade Jafar his life. A planet inhabited by the most simple and barbaric Krys peoples, but somehow, he knew it was what he had to do.
“We’ll be safe there, safer than anywhere else right now. I can’t explain why, just set a course and get us there, now!”
“Are you sure about this, Colonel?”
He shook his head.
“Not really, but something tells me it’s the place to go, and anywhere is better than here.”
"But..."
Lights flashed in the background as another fire broke out behind the Admiral. It silenced him as he turned to look at the damage, recoiling as sparks began to fly.
"Just do it, Admiral, or we won't make it out at all."
He begrudgingly agreed.
"Send word to the fleet to plot a course to Erzurum."
The doors of the elevator opened as he finished, and they stepped out into a whirlwind. It was chaos as the crew tried to manage the repairs and weapons systems at once. Fortier turned around, visibly sighing in relief at seeing Taylor step aboard.
"Colonel, we are getting orders to jump to somewhere called Kara...ba..." he hesitated as he tried to pronounce it.
"That's correct."
"Why? What the hell is there?"
"They are my orders. Plot a course, and prepare to jump on the Admiral's orders."
He didn't understand it, but he looked glad to be getting out of the hellish situation they had found themselves in.
“Sure you know what you are doing?” Jones whispered over his shoulder.
“Not really.”
The countdown rang out, but even before they jumped, the vicious barrage of the enemy fire blew another two friendly ships apart. It was clear to them all now that there was no hope of victory that day.
“Three…two…”
“Jump gate signatures!”
Flashes erupted as dozens more enemy hips poured into the system and only further underlined how desperate their situation was.
“One…jump!”
Taylor had never felt so glad to feel the stomach turning wrench that he had grown so sick of. In a flash they were gone. Away from all the death and destruction that littered their screens. Nobody wanted to think about the horrific losses they had endured, but they would have all the time in the world to dwell on it now they were at a safe distance.
Before they knew it, there was Erzurum, a stark and lonely looking world. There were no ships in orbit, not even a scout vessel to keep watch. That didn't surprise Taylor. Since the Barbarlars had made their peace with him and the rest of the Krys people, there seemed little to threaten them.
"Why here, of all places?"
Alita had crept right up beside him, and he hadn't even noticed. He still wasn’t sure.
“I don’t know how or why. I just know this is the place.”
“But there’s nothing here,” she protested, “Nothing but a few savages who don’t care for the rest of the living beings in this universe.
“No, they will fight when the time is right.”
“And the time isn’t right now?”
He shrugged, as that certainly was a fair question.
“Colonel, we are getting calls for assistance from four vessels, and we can barely cope with the repairs and casualties we have ourselves,” declared Fortier.
“Strip whatever resources we can. There’ll be plenty worse off than us,” replied Taylor as he headed for the door.
“Where are you going?” Fortier asked in amazement.
“To find out if it was all worth it. I understand how bad all this is, and plenty of men and women laid down their lives for what we had to achieve. That was to save Isaacs. I want to know they didn’t die in vain.”
He wasn’t at all hopeful regarding the President’s condition, but he didn’t say anything for the rest of them to hear.
“We could be back on the line in no time, so get us ready,” added Taylor before storming off the bridge.
Jones and Alita followed him, as they didn’t know what else to do.
“Do you think he’ll make it?” Jones asked once they had left the bridge.
“I fucking hope so. We risked our asses to save that idiot.”
“Idiot?” Alita asked in surprise.
He looked back to see she was expecting some kind of explanation.
“What the hell was he doing there? Aboard the grid when he knew what shit could go down?”
“Perhaps he was doing his job? Inspiring the people who fight for him, like you do?”
Taylor sighed, but he half nodded in agreement. It made more sense than anything else he had heard. Not another word was spoken as they made their way to the medical facility where the President was being treated. They passed a seemingly endless number of physically and mentally wounded crewmembers who lined the corridors, either awaiting treatment or too shell-shocked to move. For many of them, it was their first taste of combat, and it had been a bitter one. Taylor pitied them, for it was an especially brutal and harrowing introduction to the horrors of what their lives would be from now on.
As they neared the entrance to the medical facility, they noticed four marines guarding a side door. It was obvious what they were there for. They were Taylor's own, but he didn't recognise any of them. Since the creation of his new Regiment, he'd barely had time to get to know many. In some ways he didn't want to; it would just be more friends to lose in the coming days and weeks. He stepped through the door to see a doctor watching and waiting as a machine did the work for him. The President's wounds were being seen to, and he was still conscious, but only just. He was severely sedated.
"Will he make it?" Taylor asked.
The doctor nodded.
"He's making good progress, Colonel."
Taylor quietly let out a sigh. Although he began to wonder if that was wishful thinking, as the doctor's assessment was nothing if a little vague.
"Isaacs, how are you feeling?"
>
"Great, I feel great," he slurred, "Did we...did we win?"
"Sorry, Sir, not by a long shot, but we live to fight another day."
"Good, good."
He wasn't going to get any sensible answers and was just wasting time.
"How long until he can get back to work, Doc?"
"The President will need a few weeks rest at least."
"Don't give me the ideal. He had a job to do, we all do. When will he be able to do that?"
"Colonel, this patient will be no good to you without rest, and you may well do more damage if you expect more of him before he has had the time he requires. He may be putting on a brave face, but I can assure you that is mostly the drugs. He is still in a severe condition."
Taylor looked at the man with disgust.
"Doc, I don't think you get the picture here, do you? You need to take a reality check and pull your head out of your own ass."
Jones couldn't help but laugh, but the doctor looked defiant.
"You have your job, Colonel, and I have mine. You kill, I save, so let's stick to what we know, don't you think?"
Taylor was actually impressed with how he stood up for himself, even if he didn't agree with the rather simple assessment of their work.
"We need him. Earth needs him. The whole Alliance needs him, just do what you can."
He walked out, swearing under his breath.
"You really know how to make friends," said Jones.
Taylor ignored the comment. He looked back and forth at the lines of wounded awaiting treatment. He felt lost and alone. Everyone looked to him, but he didn't have any answers. He didn't even know why he had brought them there. A savage wilderness inhabited by barbaric peoples. Suddenly, he leapt forward into a brisk pace as if he had somewhere of vital importance to be.
"Where are you going?" Alita asked, trying to keep up with him.
"Zaya, this is all on him. Maybe he has some answers for us."
They soon reached the reinforced cell near the brig where they knew they would find the Morohtan outcast. He was guarded by several of the ship's crew, as well as a whole squad of Taylor's own people, with Sommer in charge and Turan standing beside her, two officers of separate elements of his unit, both who he had fought with so recently. They talked as if they were the best of friends, but stopped and turned to salute as Taylor approached.
Battle Beyond Earth Box Set Page 85