Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Battle Earth II
By Nick S. Thomas
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
Chapter 1
The war had only just begun, but humanity lost more in just one week than in a year of any previous conflict. The Ares research base on Mars was the first target. The Lunar colony, the only other substantial human colony outside of Earth’s atmosphere, was the next. Survivors of the five hundred thousand Moon colonists had fled below ground to continue waging a guerrilla war.
The alien invaders deployed a base in the Atlantic that had expanded to the size of several countries. Spain and North Africa quickly fell. France then stood on the brink of falling as well. Human armies continued rallying to Paris to battle amongst the ruins and to hold on to the only ground where they had managed to stop the enemy’s advance. The enemy blitz was relentless, but there was still hope. At the front line, soldiers from all around the globe fought alongside one another to save their planet.
* * *
Taylor stood atop one of the few buildings that still had its roof intact. The Paris skyline was a jagged sight with smoke still belching from many ruined towers. He shook his head in astonishment as he’d never thought for a moment he would live to see such devastation. He lowered his head, no longer wanting to see the tragic ruins. He turned and made his way to back to the ground and into a temporary staging centre that had been established.
“Sir, these are the latest images from our drones.”
Major Mitch Taylor walked across the floor of the comms room and looked at the projected images and videos. Countless energy pulses surged from their artillery on the west coast of France towards the capital. It has been just one week since they made their stand in Paris. What remained of the western perimeter was a desolate waste ground, reminiscent of the great siege of Stalingrad, yet it had been a battle lasting only days.
He looked out of a side window at his bedraggled company. Despite his rank, it was all he had at his command. He turned back to the comms officer.
“Thanks.”
The Major looked at a few scans that suggested small numbers of unidentified forces had been detected to the north of the city. It had been an important step to bring the enemy to a halt at Paris, but he could not help but feel that they had yet to see the worst of it.
He lifted up his dusty helmet and threw it on his head. Brick dust puffed out, and his skin was coated in its residue. They were stationed at the same bridge they had been during the initial defence of the city. Holding ground was a welcome change, but it was far from a major victory. He stepped out of the temporary building. It was nothing more than a command trailer. The air was thick with the smell of burning buildings, the putrid and acidic burn of electrical wiring of the structures filling his nostrils.
Captain Friday and Lieutenant Suarez sat in chairs they had salvaged from nearby ruins. Their feet were on top of a mound of rubble. What was left of their company lay scattered, trying to get what rest and food they could. They were already exhausted from the almost constant fighting. Whenever they were not in combat, the threat of air strikes and assaults were always in their minds.
“We getting any re-enforcements, Sir?” asked Suarez.
Taylor grimaced. He knew that it would be the first question presented to him, but he had no good answer.
“Colonel Chandra is doing what she can, but since the attacks on Puerto Rico and Venezuela, the brass is looking to the defences back home.”
“They can’t expect us to go on with so few troops?”
“Lieutenant, get your shit together.”
Suarez looked down, partly in shame and partly in anger, at being shunned before others. Taylor never liked the man, for he was quick to anger and slow to learn. However, he was still alive and so one more soldier among them. Taylor sighed as he turned to look at his bedraggled unit and then back to the two officers.
“Fifty years ago I could have commanded six hundred marines. What do I have now? Less than sixty, including you Brits.”
He looked up to see Captain Jones leading his men back from a patrol.
“Major, any word from the Colonel?”
“She’s doing well and on her feet already. It won’t be long before she’ll be back with us. For now, she’s working to get us equipment and people. The stocks of weapons have quickly run out, and production is taking time to get moving.”
“Major, without those weapons, we are high and dry.”
“Well aware of that, Captain. I am sure everything that can be done to get us re-supplied is already being done.”
Jones turned to his troops and nodded for them to be relieved and so take rest. He propped his rifle down by the Major and perched himself on a large piece of concrete. It used to form the wall of a building that was well over a century old. Although rough and jagged, it was a welcome relief from being on his feet.
The Captain pulled out a ration pack from his webbing and ripped it open with a sigh. It was not a sigh for what they had experienced, but for what was to come. Both officers were well versed in military history and knew, that win or lose, the end of the war was only a distant dream. As Jones pulled out the fork from the MRE, a wave of energy pulses raced overhead. They were artillery shells pounding the city behind them, but he didn’t even flinch.
“The scans I saw this morning show a potentially small enemy scouting presence to the north, so I want to check it out,” said the Major.
Jones nodded.
“Give me a minute and I’ll join you.”
His voice was muffled as he tried to wolf the food down.
“No, you’ve done your share for the morning. Get some rest. I don’t think it’ll be anything more than scouting drones, and I won’t be far from friendly units.”
The Captain nodded. As much as he was keen to help, he appreciated the opportunity to lie down more than anything.
“Friday, you’re in charge while I’m gone,” Taylor ordered.
He nodded, rarely ever saying anything unless he had to.
“Sergeant Silva!”
The man leapt to his feet and rushed to the Major.
“Sir!”
“Get three men, we’re heading out.”
The Sergeant nodded and turned to find volunteers. Regulations would have him respond to the Major, but their long service together had made them more familiar than most NCOs would be with their officers.
Minutes later, the five men were trudging across the rubble. An open topped jeep awaited them, used for communications during blocking by the enemy. It had no fitted weapons, nor armour, but it was at least fast. Taylor climbed in behind the wheel, keen to be at the controls.
“What are we looking for, Sir? I thought the north was free and clear,” asked Silva.
“They’ve backed off, but don’t let that make you think they have stopped.”
“You think they’re regrouping for another attack?”
“Definitely, they underestimated our forces here. They thought they could roll over us and drive us out of Europe and beyond, so now they’ll be re-thinking their strategy
. The next attack will be far worse, bigger and better co-ordinated.”
“That’s not much of a relief, Sir.”
“No point in me bullshitting you, Sergeant.”
Silva nodded. He didn’t want to face the Mechs again either, but at least he’d like to know what to expect. They rode through the ravaged streets, the jeep’s soft suspension taking the worst out of the debris-strewn roads. They passed soldiers and armour from several European countries, Russia and Yugoslavia. Although glad to see the amount of forces they had to defend the city, he was also concerned. If they could not hold off their invaders with what they had in the city, how could they ever be stopped?
They finally reached the end of the western defences and drove north into the mostly in tact but abandoned suburbs. Rubbish blew across the streets, and there was barely a vehicle in sight. The population had long been evacuated. Street after street, and they didn’t see any sign of life. It felt like the aftermath of a nuclear holocaust.
A cat ran across the empty road. The men turned and watched as it ran past, mesmerised by the sign of life and its bitter contrast to the abandoned suburb. The roads were narrow, but with no parked vehicles, it was unusually spacious. Twenty storey apartment blocks lined every road. Taylor stopped and looked at the map device fitted in the centre console of their vehicle.
“We’re close now.”
“But, Sir, it’s dead, there’s nothing here,” said Silva.
Taylor tapped the comms channel button on the device.
“Taylor to HQ, over. This is Taylor to HQ, over.”
No reply came.
Silva looked to Taylor with a concerned expression as he lifted his rifle in readiness.
“It could be nothing, Sergeant, but let’s proceed with caution.”
The Major drove on at a more careful pace. They took a bend, half expecting to find trouble, but it was yet another desolate street in the abandoned neighbourhood. Mitch brought the vehicle to a halt.
“On foot from here,” he whispered.
They leapt out from the vehicle and readied their weapons for a fight. No one had any idea of what to expect, but they were all aware of the danger the enemy presented. Taylor signalled to the others to follow his lead. He looked back down the street and to the map device in his hand. He clipped the pad onto the side of his rifle enabling him to get a good hold on the weapon.
The marines crept forward. The district was unsettlingly quiet, despite the low base drone of explosions back in the city centre. Taylor could see another turn up ahead and approached it with caution. His device showed something emitting signals just around the corner. He crept closer, praying to find nothing like the horrors they had come to know.
The four others formed up behind him holding their breath. Silva and two others carried grenade launchers in their hands, and the other had four ARMAL launchers on his back. Taylor carried an M97 slung on his back, with the assault rifle he had become so accustomed to in his hands.
He reached the edge of the building and carefully peered around the corner. His eyes widened as he stared at the strange object before him, a machine of some sort that lay twenty metres from his position. It was half the height of a man and with large rotors in all corners. It was clearly capable of flight but had put down in the street. Lights were active on the body of the device, and it was certainly of alien construction. He turned back to the others.
“What is it?” whispered Silva.
Taylor shrugged his shoulders.
“It’s alien and looks unmanned. It may be a scouting device or transmitter,” he replied.
“Then it’s enemy, so let’s blow that shit up,” said Silva.
Taylor thought about it for a moment before nodding in response to his trigger happy NCO.
“It could have weapons on board. I don’t want to take any chances. We get out there and lay down fire till its burning, you got me?”
The others acknowledged him as he lifted his rifle, checking to be sure the safety was off and it was ready. He held out his left hand with three fingers up as a countdown. Fighting against humans had never been quite as frightening as the alien invaders. Taylor had become accustomed to what he could expect in the smaller engagements he’d previously been involved in, but they rarely knew what to expect from this technologically advanced race.
He lowered the other two fingers one after the other and jumped out into the open with his rifle held high. He began firing before the others had even got around the bend. Firing with short bursts, he could see that a number of the rounds bounced off the metal casing of the device, but others had smashed through. Silva fired his launcher and struck it dead on. The shell almost deafened them as jagged metal landed all around.
The flash had momentarily blinded them and caused them all to stop firing. Smoke poured down the street, and a smell of sulphur wafted past. They looked on at the twisted wreck and debris that was scattered as wide as the street itself.
“Shit, we toasted that bitch,” said Silva.
Taylor cautiously approached the debris. He had seen the enemies’ blood before, and it was nowhere in sight. A glimmer of light and reflection in the distance caught his attention down the long street. He quickly pulled out his binoculars for a better look.
“What is it, Sir?”
The Major’s face turned to stone as he looked on at six of the enemy Mechs. They were jetting towards them with some kind of rocket devices attached to their armour. They were smaller and lighter armoured than those they had previously seen, but no less terrifying. Smoke trails blasted from their backs as they stormed towards the marines.
“Hostiles incoming! Fall back!”
He quickly turned and ran back towards the vehicle they had left. The others didn’t wait a moment to stare at the enemy bearing down on them. As Taylor ran, he looked back to see that their pursuers were already turning the corner they had left just seconds ago.
“Into that building, now!”
He rushed towards a shop front occupying the base of an apartment building. Mitch fired several shots at the tall glass windows and tumbled through it. The glass shattered and collapsed as he rolled into the shop and quickly back onto his feet. He took a few more paces and jumped for the cover of a long shop counter. The smell of coffee still filled the room from where a full mug had been left during the evacuation. It was a local amenities shop that seemed to sell a bit of everything, but many of the shelves had been emptied.
The five marines waited with their weapons at the ready. They couldn’t see their enemy yet, but they could hear them. The hissing of the engines quietened and was replaced with a loud mechanical clunk as the airborne Mechs landed hard on the road outside. The metal of their devices ticked loudly from the heat like the exhaust of a classic gasoline car after it had been shut off.
No one of them said a word. The steps got louder, and the first Mech walked into view, peering into the shop. Before it could lift its huge pulse weapon, it was struck head on by a grenade from Silva. The Mech vanished into a ball of smoke, shaking the room that caused much of the ceiling to collapse.
“Let’s move!” shouted Taylor.
He turned and rushed to the back as heat pulses smashed into the shop. They sent metal shelving tumbling across the room, narrowly missing the fleeing marines. Taylor reached a locked door that led to a loading alley out the back. He lifted his rifle and fired several shots into the lock until it was obliterated. He then kicked the door through. As they rushed out into the street, the building behind them began to creek and shake with the continuous pounding from the enemy’s weapons.
“It’s gonna blow! Run!” shouted Silva.
They dashed to make some distance as chunks of the building collapsed around them.
“Shit!” Silva called out.
The ground around them shook as they were launched off their feet. Half of the building collapsed into the narrow lane. Seconds later, Taylor spluttered as he found himself covered in debris. The foul and dry taste of b
rick dust filled his mouth, and his face was covered in its residue. His body armour had thankfully saved his back from the impact, though his joints were stiff and sore.
He pushed up; wiping his brow with the cuff of his uniform, but it was of little help. His uniform was as thick with dust as the entire scene, and the marines had almost completely blended in with the rubble. The memory of their attackers flooded back into his head, and he turned to Silva who was still freeing himself.
“Keep moving!” shouted Taylor.
The marines staggered to their feet and rushed onwards. From behind the line of shops, they could hear the engines of the Mechs firing up. Their jeep was still a couple of blocks away.
“We’re not gonna make it!” called Silva.
Taylor turned and looked at the tall buildings they had come from. He still couldn’t see the enemy, but their engines were getting louder. He turned back and could see a small local police station. The doors were left open, and it was abandoned.
“Follow me!” he ordered.
The Major knew they could not outrun the Mechs. These were faster and more agile than anything they had seen before. He gave every ounce of strength and energy to push to a sprint for the building. They rushed through the doors and quickly rolled into cover behind the reception desks. For a moment they sat trying to get their breath back.
The roar of the Mech engines came closer until Taylor could smell the chemicals emitting from the devices. They smelt like a noxious gas, pungent and acrid. Taylor lifted himself up just enough to peer over the counter and into the street. Two of the Mechs landed hard along the path they had themselves just trodden. They peered around desperately, clearly having lost the marines’ trail.
“Guess their tracking skills aren’t up to regulation,” whispered Silva.
He had a cheeky grin on his face, calling a victory over their ruthless enemy. Taylor looked to the other three marines, Jimenez, Mitchell and Paria. Fear was evident in their eyes. Facing the towering Mechs was always a harrowing experience, but safety in numbers always helped to bolster their morale. Now they were left in a wasteland with nothing and nobody to support them. Taylor smiled, hoping to give them some encouragement. After all the bitter fighting he had survived, Mitch was unwilling to die now.
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