Battle Earth II

by Nick S. Thomas

  “Sir, thank you, but we surely cannot leave here?”

  “French forces are being bolstered by European and Eastern allies, so we must now look to our own lands.”

  “Sir, we were combined with Major Taylor’s marines, and we have a duty to him and his troops. He is overdue from a reconnaissance mission. We can’t leave him out there...”

  “Captain, this is not up for discussion. You have your orders. All British forces are to return to UK soil immediately. We have aircraft inbound. Expect pick up in under an hour.”

  He turned to a map of the area and pointed to a marked out section.

  “The designated landing zone is here at the east end of Concorde Square. Make sure you are on the transports when they leave.”

  Jones turned back to the French Colonel who he had become so close to.

  “We all have our orders,” said Girard.

  The Captain could see Dupont wipe his brow behind the other men. The Brigadier was not happy with the state of affairs. Jones wanted nothing more than to question the Commander and reason with him, but he knew it was not just unprofessional and ill-disciplined, it was also futile. He turned back to Phillips.

  “Somewhere we can get some grub, Sir?”

  “A ration point has been set up. You will find it marked on the map outside. That will be all, Captain.”

  Jones nodded and turned away without a salute. He strode out from the command vehicle to be met by a familiar face, Chandra.

  “Colonel?”

  “That’ll be Major, the promotion was only temporary, and we have more officers than we need now.”

  “Sorry to hear that, Major.”

  Chandra walked with a limp and was using a crutch in one hand, but she wore full gear with a rifle sling around her back and a helmet hung from her belt.

  “Major, we are being sent back home.”

  “Yes, unfortunately, I already know. They want us back to keep the country safe. After the government saw how quickly the Mechs rolled up to Paris, they want to avoid that state of affairs with London.”

  “Can’t the Navy and Air Force handle that?”

  “In theory, yes, you would hope so, but they want us back all the same.”

  “You know Taylor is still out there? He went out on a recon mission on the northern outskirts and has been out of contact since. He should have been back by now.”

  “I hadn’t heard, you think he’s found trouble?”

  “In my gut, I know it.”

  Chandra turned and headed for their men who lay about the truck. She gestured for him to follow.

  “We move out in one hour, Captain.”

  “Yes, the Commander has already made that clear.”

  “Then you have one hour to burn.”

  He stopped and looked at the Major, making sure he had heard her right.

  “Major, Phillips will have my balls if I leave this base.”

  “And if Taylor needs help, and you aren’t there to give it, how would you feel?”

  “It is still a blatant breach of orders.”

  “I cannot force you to do anything, Captain, but I would not leave a friend out there. You find the Major and get back here within the hour, then there’s no problem. Get out there and find that he needs help, and then we’ll deal with the circumstances when we have to.”

  “The Commander...”

  “The Commander works behind a desk. He’s a decent man, but he has no care for the troops in the field.”

  Jones nodded, it was all the confirmation he needed to do what he knew was right. He strode up to the troops.

  “Commander says we leave in one hour, time to get some grub.”

  Green looked up at the Captain. They had eaten recently. Jones turned back to the command truck to see the Commander watching them from the door. He spoke to his men quietly.

  “Taylor needs our help, and as far as Phillips is concerned, we’re getting a meal. So, on your feet.”

  They enthusiastically got moving. The British paras had become close friends with the marines over the last week, thinking of them all as the single unit they had been amalgamated into. Chandra smiled as she watched them troop out of sight from the command truck. Jones watched to see that they were clear, and then put his hand out to stop them.

  “Most of you will have to stay here to cover for us, so I want three volunteers.”

  “I’ll go,” said Green.

  Jones nodded in gratitude. The Lieutenant had been more than useful.

  “We’ll go,” said one of the Johnsons.

  The two brothers would rarely be separated. Even the Major referred to them by their nicknames, Monty and Blinker.

  “Alright, let’s do this. We head on together. The four of us will fork off as soon as we have mixed with the other units. It’s vital that Phillips has no idea of our intentions until long after we have gone, or at all if possible. Matthews, I’m leaving you in charge.”

  “Got it, Sir,” replied the young Lance Corporal.

  “Alright, let’s move out.”

  The group of paras ambled towards the ration wagons, giving every indication that they were relaxed and ready to settle down. Jones looked to Matthews. The soldier was completely unfazed by the situation, having absolute confidence in his team.

  “If we are caught, there will be hell to pay. Do what you can to give us a clear run, but don’t put your neck out.”

  “Don’t worry about us, Captain. You just find the Major. We’ve lost enough brothers already, don’t let that tally increase.”

  Jones nodded in both agreement and gratitude. They reached a swarm of troops from different regiments and nations who were scattered across an area the size of a football pitch. As they dispersed into the mass of camouflage, Jones surveyed the situation. The command truck was out of view, so they were well covered.

  “Alright, that’ll do, break.”

  He split off from the others towards the northern perimeter, the other three men following suit. Moments later they were at the rim of the square and winding their way through lines of parked vehicles. They found a small jeep, similar to what they were used to.

  “This’ll do, get in.”

  The Captain leapt into the driver’s seat and looked down at the controls, trying to find the engine start.

  “Going somewhere, Captain?”

  Jones jumped in his seat and shot a look up above the screen as he reached for his sidearm. Sergeant Dubois stood in front of the vehicle. He gave a sigh of relief and relaxed his shoulders although his pulse still raced.

  “Can’t imagine you were given the authority to commandeer this vehicle?” she asked.

  “No.”

  The Captain replied with an exhausted tone and dipped his head. The French Sergeant had done them a good turn back in Brest, and he felt shamed at having been caught by her taking one of the vehicles.

  “If you’re going out, you’ll want a little more armour, Captain.”

  He shot a glance up to the woman, hoping he had heard her right.

  “Come with me.”

  “You could get in major trouble for this, Sergeant.”

  She turned back to them as they walked.

  “The world is already in deep trouble, Captain, so it can’t get any worse.”

  Jones smiled in response.

  “So you are going after someone, I take it?” she asked.

  “Why would you think that?”

  “A small team without permission going into unprotected territory, why else would you risk your lives?”

  The Captain could not hide it. Dubois had a sharp mind and had already proven to be a fine soldier. She still bore scars on her face from the wounds sustained a week ago, and several of them would never fully heal.

  “Major Taylor. He went out hours ago and hasn’t returned or been in contact. He was investigating some peculiar readings from surveillance images.”

  “And you think he found trouble?”

  “I bet money on it. We’ve
been ordered to return across the channel within the hour. If we can’t find the Major, nobody will.”

  She looked at him. “You’re a loyal friend.”

  “Without men like Taylor, we wouldn’t have got this far. I am not willing to give up on him.”

  The Sergeant stopped at a vehicle they had reached and tapped the hull.

  “Here’s my girl.”

  It was a medium weight, six-wheeled armoured car with small turret and light cannon.

  “After we lost our armour in Brest, the survivors were reformed as a reconnaissance and infantry support battalion. These were the only vehicles that could be spared to replace it.”

  “That’s a bit of a step down.”

  “Hey, we’re still alive, that counts for a lot.”

  The Captain wished he could take the words back, but it was too late.

  “True, I am sorry. I didn’t mean to...”

  “Enough of your apologies, Captain. We have a job to do, climb aboard.”

  She hauled open the rear door allowing the troops to clamber in. The vehicle had seating for six as well as its three crew. Jones climbed through into the commander’s chair next to Dubois’ driving position.

  “Where are your crew, Sergeant?”

  “Nowhere you need to worry about, Captain, so where are we heading?”

  Jones looked at the map displayed on a screen in front of him. Paris was quickly becoming familiar from such a view. His hand stretched across the map, tracing the steps Taylor had explained to him before he left.

  “Here, the Major saw a small anomaly on surveillance photos, and that’s the area.”

  “That’s about half an hour’s drive from here, if we are quick.”

  Before the Captain could respond, Dubois planted her foot to the floor and the vehicle rushed forwards. The crew watched as they stormed out of the base without opposition. Nobody questioned troops that were heading anywhere but east. It was not long before they were free of the war-torn centre and driving among peaceful and intact neighbourhoods. Jones had begun to forget anything but the devastated rubble of the west.

  “You got ammo aboard?”

  “Of course, Captain.”

  He turned back to Monty. “Get on that gun.”

  “Got it, boss.”

  The man weaved his way through the cramped seating to the gun position.

  “We expecting trouble?” he asked.

  “Always,” replied Jones.

  The Captain turned to Dubois. She rode towards danger with no fear or regard for her own life at all.

  “Will this armour hold up to their weapons?” he asked.

  “I haven’t found out personally. I’ve heard they can take a few hits from the Mechs’ guns but nothing from their heavier weapons.”

  “It’s an improvement over soft skin.”

  They heard a heavy clunk as Monty loaded the turret-mounted cannon.

  “Think you can handle that?” shouted Jones.

  “Looks pretty simple, Captain!”

  * * *

  “Fuck!” Taylor screamed through clenched teeth as Silva reset his leg.

  He spat out the block he’d been biting down on and took a deep breath.

  “We should never have come out alone.”

  “We didn’t, Sir,” replied Silva.

  “Should have brought the whole battalion out for this.”

  Silva helped lift the Major’s foot and rested it on a stool as he winced in pain. The Sergeant picked up two metal poles which he had collected from the store and placed them either side of the leg.

  “It’s gonna hurt like hell to walk, but at least you’ll be on your feet.”

  “Right now, anything is an improvement.”

  Silva picked up a packet of duct tape and ripped it open. He quickly wrapped the silver tape around with some pressure along the length of most of the leg.

  “That should do it.”

  Taylor lowered his leg and winced with pain as it dropped to the ground. He pulled himself up. His wounded left leg was at least now useable. The splint had given the strength for him to walk. He hobbled a few steps and was glad to be back on his own two feet. Mitch stopped and froze at a sound from outside. Silva reached for his gun, but Taylor put his hand up to call for silence.

  The two marines stared intently at the glass front of the shop, trying to identify the noise. Seconds later they heard footsteps that were too heavy to be human. Silva’s eyes widened as his hand slowly reached for the rifle on the table. They both knew that they were woefully under equipped to take on any kind of attack, but neither would they go down without a fight.

  The footsteps grew louder until their source came into view. It was one of the taller and more bulky invaders they had become so familiar with, and it strode past. They stood silently, hoping to go unnoticed. The Mech continued on, but neither man relaxed as they knew that the enemy soldier would not be alone.

  A moment later a second Mech passed the window next to them. They could hear the footsteps of another following, but little else. They rightly came to the conclusion that it was a three-troop scouting party. With the brief gap after the two Mechs, Taylor hobbled quickly back to the table where his launcher rested, snatching it up. He couldn’t kneel and so took up position behind a broad support beam.

  Taylor held his breath and peered around from the cover to the street. The shelving units of the hardware store obscured much of the view. The third Mech strode into sight. They waiting patiently in the hope that it would pass them by, but they already feared that they would not have such luck. The beast stopped as it got towards the end of the shop.

  Taylor slipped back behind cover. He looked down at Silva who huddled behind a counter. He noticed a hand grenade hanging from the man’s armour, remembering he had one also. He looked down and gripped it, thankful of any advantage they could get. He pulled it from his vest and took it in two hands, letting the launcher rest on its sling.

  The Sergeant watched Taylor and waited for his signal. They both listened intently for any sign of the Mechs. The nearest one came to a stop, turned and took a few paces back. They both knew that the beast was suspicious and was therefore investigating. Taylor looked down at the floor. They had walked dirty and wet foot prints into the shop. Mitch wanted to kick himself for leaving such crumbs for the enemy, but it was too late.

  The door of the shop opened, and their hearts raced as they heard a Mech stomp inside. Taylor looked down at Silva and nodded. He twisted the grenade and leaned out from cover just enough to see his target. He threw the grenade and ducked back behind cover before the Mech could respond. The explosion was deafening, shaking everything in the room and sending boxes and shelving flying.

  Taylor then lifted his launcher in readiness, but his ears were still ringing. The building fell silent once again. They had expected to come under a hail of gunfire, but the shots never came. Mitch peered around from the cover to investigate, just catching a glimpse of a Mech in the street looking around for enemy positions. They must have assumed it was a trap or a mine.

  He looked across the shop entrance. Most of the glass had been blow out from the building and littered the street. He stayed utterly still, watching from his hidden position. The enemy soldier was hunched slightly with its weapon ready to fire. It was still looking around in all directions. Another strode up to it and relaxed slightly. Taylor could tell that they were communicating by their body language, but he could hear nothing.

  He turned his head just a fraction and peered down at Silva. The Sergeant was still hidden from view and awaiting his orders. Mitch could see no fear in his eyes, and he was ready for anything. The Major turned back to the street. The two Mechs were looking at the site of the explosion and their fallen comrade. They moved cautiously towards the rubble. Taylor’s grip on his weapon instinctively tightened.

  As much as he wanted to avoid a fight, Mitch knew that they stood little chance of moving freely with the Mechs walking the streets. The odds were not i
n their favour, but at least they had maintained the element of surprise. He watched as they stepped up to the twisted armour of the Mech that was scattered across a three metre area.

  He looked back at the Sergeant and gave him the nod. Silva leapt up and trained his rifle on the closest enemy, firing a long burst into the mirrored armour that protected their heads. The continuous stream of bullets into the weak visor caused it to crack, and the bullets smashed through. The Mech went limp, dropping with a heavy smash to the ground.

  Taylor leapt out from cover before the body of the creature had landed and fired his launcher from the hip. At the close proximity he couldn’t see where the shot had struck, and it blinded them as it exploded. The blast threw the Major off his feet, and he landed hard on the store floor. Items crashed around the shop as the merchandise was tossed to the wind, along with Taylor’s weapon that was thrown from his hands.

  The shock of falling briefly disorientated him. The wind had been taken out of him and pain surged down his back to the wound in his leg. He was thankful for his armour softening the blow, but it was little relief at the time. For a few seconds he lay flat. He didn’t have the willpower or energy to get to his feet. Each battle he fought seemed to wear his body and mind down a little further, and he wondered how much more he could take.

  “Sir, you okay?” asked Silva.

  Taylor did not respond. He was still stunned.

  “Major?”

  The Sergeant appeared above him, looking down with first concern and then a smile. He reached out his hand to help Taylor stand up. The Major gladly accepted and was hoisted back upright. He patted the Sergeant on the shoulder, and a puff of dust burst from it. Taylor grinned at the Sergeant, amazed that they still lived. He caught a glimmer of movement, and the smile quickly turned to fear; a change the Sergeant immediately responded to.

  Silva turned quickly on the spot and lifted his rifle to the hip. A humanoid-shaped creature bore down on them at great speed. It was extremely thin at the waist but had strong and broad shoulders. They immediately recognised the thing as an enemy from the blue blood dripping down its face and into its clothing. The beast wore some kind of snug compression suit, but it was covered in dust and blood.