Battle Beyond Earth - Box Set (Books 6-9)

by Nick S. Thomas

  “He fought in the Krys-Human Wars?”

  Turan nodded his head.

  “What I wouldn’t give to be back in those days. They were simpler times.”

  “I doubt that,” replied Babacan.

  “No, probably not.” Taylor smiled.

  They picked up pace quickly and reached the planet’s atmosphere in no time at all. The craft began to shake as they passed into the atmosphere and into dense clouds.

  “I have lost the signal.”

  “Just keep going forward. If we don’t find them, they’ll surely find us.”

  “That’s what worries me, Sir.”

  For several minutes they pushed through the dense clouds that kept getting darker until finally they hit heavy rain.

  “I sense this isn’t the most hospitable planet around,” said Dart.

  That was when it struck Taylor. He didn’t really know much about the planet at all, hadn’t done his research and planning. He was kicking himself for it. He had rushed in, and he knew why. He was blinded by the need to get his friends back, to save them.

  It is too late to worry about that now. We’ve jumped in at the deep end, and it’s time to start swimming.

  Taylor looked down at the consoles all around Dart. There were fluctuations on every reading. They didn't know where they were, at what height, or where the enemy were. They finally broke through the clouds. Dart yanked the controls back. They were plummeting towards a knife-edge ride.

  "Shit!" Taylor whispered, as he held his breath and hoped.

  "Come on, come on!" said Dart.

  The copter began to shake under the strain of the g-force, and it felt like they were going to be torn apart any moment.

  "Masks on!" Dart cried out.

  They were all aware they weren't going to make it as they sealed their helmets shut.

  "Come on, pull up!" Taylor shouted.

  "I'm trying to, Sir!"

  "Well, try harder!"

  The ship began to shake even more violently as warning lights lit up all across his console. The nose began to lift, but it wasn't soon enough. The underbelly smashed into the ridge, but at a shallow enough angle that they slid right off. Taylor was thrown back from the cockpit, but Dart was lashed in and stayed on the controls.

  "Hang on!" he yelled.

  Taylor felt Turan's hand on his shoulder as he braced him in place.

  "This isn't the way I ever planned on going out," said Taylor.

  They crashed into the ground, and sparks flew all around them as the hull scraped along a surface as hard as iron. He couldn't believe they were still in one piece, but just as he thought it, they began to slide sideways and struck something substantial. The craft burst into two, and they began to roll. Taylor felt himself tumble, but Turan grabbed hold of him and pulled him into the others. Another held his feet to keep him secure.

  They were spinning out of control and rolling so quickly that Taylor couldn't make out what was going on. Then they hit something solid once more and smashed through it, hit something more robust, and came to an abrupt halt. Taylor fell to the floor as the two Krys soldiers lost their grip from the impact, and he hit the floor of the craft. It hurt like hell, but he forced himself back up. Fortunately, they had at least come to a halt the right way up.

  "Everyone okay?" he asked.

  Two of the soldiers were dead in their seats where the ship had impacted and split apart. There was no sign of the others and the other half of the copter. He rushed to the cockpit to check on Dart. The front of the ship was wrecked, and a sharp piece of rock had pierced the vessel, stopping half a metre from Dart.

  "Lucky man."

  "I sure am," he said and began to laugh.

  Taylor could tell he wasn't quite right and leaned in. The pilot's legs were trapped where the console had driven onto them.

  "Ah, shit," said Taylor.

  He couldn't hide his despair.

  "I'm sorry, Colonel. I really screwed this one up."

  Taylor placed his hand on Dart's shoulder to comfort him.

  "No, this one was on me. I was the one that rushed in."

  He leaned in further to check him over but recoiled on realising how bad it was. One of Dart's legs had been cut clean off, and the other was badly trapped.

  "It's bad, isn't it, Sir?"

  Taylor nodded.

  "It's bad all right, but nothing you can't survive."

  He laughed as if he thought Taylor was just feeding him a line. He began to fade through blood loss, but Taylor slapped his helmet.

  "Hey, I'm not kidding around. You stay with me. I'll be damned if I am going to lose another pilot."

  "It's not in your hands, anymore, Sir."

  "Bullshit!"

  He turned around to look for a medic, but realised that he didn't even know a single name of those in Turan's platoon.

  "I need a medic, anyone?"

  Turan himself stepped forward.

  "You are a medic?"

  "I know what to do," he responded confidently.

  He pulled out a syringe from his belt and stabbed it into Dart's arm. He then pulled out what looked like large zip ties, looped them around each of the pilot's legs, and pulled them taut.

  "This is going to hurt."

  Dart was already wincing in pain from the pressure of the straps, but without another word, Turan took hold of the pilot's seat and ripped it from its already weakened frame. Dart was freed and collapsed to the floor crying in pain. One leg was gone from the knee down, and the other was barely holding on by the skin.

  "Give it to me straight."

  "You're gonna lose both of 'em. Nothing we can do about that, but you are going to live," said Taylor.

  He wasn't sure of that fact, but he had to give the man some hope. Turan drew out a knife and cut the skin that held his leg on. Dart didn't even seem to notice. Maybe it was the drugs Turan had given him, or maybe he was just overloaded with so much pain that a little more went unnoticed. The Krys officer pulled out two small bags and slipped them over each of his severed limbs, pulling a small cord on each. They instantly deflated and sealed onto his legs to stop the blood loss.

  "He'll live," said Turan.

  Taylor nodded in appreciation.

  "You hear that? You'll live to fly another day."

  "Without legs?" Dart wept uncontrollably.

  "Damn fucking right. I came back from the dead, so don't tell me you can't come back from this, Lieutenant."

  Dart nodded, but it soon dawned on Taylor that their troubles had only just begun. The rest of the survivors were on their feet, and several had fanned out from the wreckage to secure their position. Taylor hit the communicator on his Mappad.

  "This is Colonel Taylor to the Tusk. I repeat Colonel Taylor to the Tusk."

  Nothing came back.

  "You saw the weather conditions and interference up there. I doubt if our comms can work more than a few klicks," said Dart.

  Taylor looked up and out through the fuselage that had been prised open like a tin can. He could barely make out the shape of one of the Krys soldiers just five metres from the craft because of the heavy rain and dense fog. What little sunshine managed to pierce the clouds was soon to fail, as the sun was low on the horizon.

  "We're in for a long night."

  CHAPTER 4

  “What a shithole,” Taylor announced.

  He marvelled at the foul weather as the rain lashed the visor of his helmet so hard it felt like it was going to crack at any time. He looked at his Mappad to analyse the atmosphere.

  There’s no oxygen, and it’s damn cold. Lovely!

  The outline of a figure approached, and he lifted his rifle in readiness. He soon recognised that it was Babacan.

  “Any sign of the others?”

  He shook his head.

  “I cannot find anything in this weather. We need to fan out.”

  “No way, I’m not dividing our number. We have no idea what we’re dealing with!”

  They ha
d just nine men able to fight, two of those were wounded, and they still had Dart to look after.

  “No, we need to stick together,” he added.

  “So what do we do?”

  “Minn will send others after us soon. If we stay close to the crash site, we have the best chance of being picked up.”

  “But Minn has no idea we’re in trouble, and with all this interference, how are they going to find us?”

  Taylor checked his pad. They had nine hours of air left. Whatever supply the ship had, it was long gone. He had to make the call, and there seemed no right answer.

  “So we stay here and we likely die, or we go out and likely die somewhere else?”

  Babacan nodded.

  “Well that’s just fucking great. You take Dart. If we are gonna make it out of here, so is he.”

  “We should leave him. He will only slow us down. He will not survive without medical attention, and we cannot give it.”

  “I don’t care. We aren’t leaving him, and that’s all there is to it.”

  Babacan didn’t agree, but he would not argue with Taylor any further. Taylor gestured for them all to come in closer so that he could be heard. Their comms were almost useless in the heavy winds, rain, and electrical interference they were experiencing.

  “Listen up. The truth is I don’t know where we are, but if we don’t do something, we are going to die down here. Our options aren’t great, but I suggest we head for high ground, in the hope that we can get a signal out, unless anyone has any better ideas?”

  Babacan was already loading Dart onto his back. He looked even weaker now. No one said a word. He wasn’t sure if that was out of discipline and loyalty, or because they simply had no better solution.

  “All right, then. Turan, grab the distress beacon from the copter. It’s the strongest signal we can put out, and we might just get lucky yet. We are gonna make it out of this, trust me.”

  He looked around at their faces as if expecting to see fear in their eyes, but there was nothing. It was a bizarre experience to be so far detached from human emotion. Dart would be the only one capable of panicking, but he was too drugged up to realise the gravity of their situation. Taylor felt sheer loneliness. It seemed they were in a life or death scenario, and he was the only one who truly cared about living.

  Turan fixed a sling to the beacon that was as wide as Taylor’s chest and threw it over his shoulder. They were ready.

  “No time like the now,” Taylor said quietly to himself.

  He looked around for an idea of which direction to go, consulting his Mappad for some hope of navigating the terrain, but even his compass was shot due to the atmospheric conditions.

  “This world is about as welcoming as hell itself.”

  No one heard him over the lashings of the storm. He tried to remember the terrain they saw when they came in to land and looked at the marks in the ground where the fuselage had scraped across the surface. Babacan hadn’t found anything back that way, so he faced the opposite direction and started walking.

  “It’s as good as any, it will have to do.”

  Gravity seemed a little heavier than normal, making it tedious to even walk, but that could have just been the wind and rain constantly lashing them. He was thankful to be covered from head to toe, but he could barely see a thing with the rain hammering against his mask. After the first thirty paces, he checked if the rest were still with him. He made out three, the rest barely visible shadows in the distance as they kept in single file.

  They soon began to climb, and it wasn't long before visibility began to improve a little, but they paid for it in an increase in wind speed. Taylor was fighting his way forward now. It felt like he was walking across the ocean floor with weighted boots. They were climbing a narrow edged mountain. He could just about make out the next peak in the distance, but the fog below hid the depth they would fall if they lost their footing.

  What a godforsaken world.

  They kept walking, but there seemed no hope of finding any of the others. All he could think was to keep climbing.

  Will we be able to make it high enough to get a signal out? Is the Tusk even operational again after its power outage?

  These were the questions that kept rolling around Taylor's head as he trudged on. It was dawning on him that they might die there, a pointless death in a barren wasteland. He started to wonder why they ever bothered coming, but then he remembered exactly why. For Alita and William.

  They had been walking for what seemed like half a day when he noticed the peak ahead. It brought on a new wave of enthusiasm, and he pressed on a little faster, but upon reaching the summit that enthusiasm drained away.

  "Set up the beacon!" he ordered.

  The Krys soldiers still seemed to show no emotion at all. He expected to see some despair in their faces, but there was nothing. Babacan had wrapped Dart in the sheet of an emergency shelter, but he barely looked conscious anymore.

  "What now?" Turan asked as he placed the beacon down at the highest point. As far as they could tell it was the tallest point around them, but it wasn't like they had enough visibility to know for sure. He looked down at his pad, but he couldn't even read it because of the heavy rain. He scrubbed it clean and briefly managed a look in. They had little over five hours of air left. It seemed like no time at all. He drew in a deep breath and looked around in every direction for a sign of something to do. The summit was so small that their small group barely perched on top of it.

  He was starting to despair. He'd always found the means to fight out of so many deadly scenarios, but there seemed no way to fight this one. His breathing was getting faster as he began to feel the strain of it all. He wanted to rip his helmet open and breathe real air, but not even that was an option.

  “They will not come for us, will they?” Babacan asked.

  “Probably not.”

  “Then we are finished.”

  Taylor couldn’t bring himself to agree, even though he felt it deep down.

  “We could go on?”

  “Where, Turan?” Taylor pointed around in every direction. All they could see were the tops of other ridges that looked no different to their own.

  “But if we stay here, we die?”

  Taylor dropped down to his knees in despair, desperately trying to think of a way out, but there didn’t seem any.

  I’ve failed.

  Nobody said a word. All they could hear was the lash of the storm. A few minutes went by, as they seemed to accept their fate when an orange light flashed in the distance. Seconds later, the sound of the explosion that had caused it reached them. Taylor leapt to his feet and looked out as another two went off soon after.

  “That’s only two or three klicks out,” said Taylor, “Come on, let’s move!”

  “We have no idea what is happening down there,” said Babacan.

  “It doesn’t matter. We stay up here and we are dead anyway. I’ll take my chances down there.”

  He rushed onwards, and the rest followed without debate.

  “What do you think is down there?” Turan asked.

  “That looked like an explosive charge. The only reason I can think for that is a fight between our people and theirs. There is hope for us yet.”

  “If it is ours, they could be as lost as we are.”

  “Babacan, I’ll take any chance over staying here to die.”

  He picked up the pace, but he soon slipped on loose rocks and went over the edge. He was about to tumble into the fog when he felt someone grab his arm. It was Turan.

  “Let’s actually get there in one piece,” he said, pulling Taylor back up.

  Taylor gasped in relief as he looked back over the edge. He had no idea how far it was to the bottom, but it would almost certainly have been his end if Turan hadn’t saved him. He was taking stupid chances because he was desperate. He took in a deep breath and tried to regain his composure before continuing at a more sensible pace.

  “Thank you.”

  Tura
n walked beside him.

  “I know why you are in a rush to get this done, and why it is that we are here in the first place, but do not let your mind be clouded.

  “You’re pretty talky for a Krys.”

  “Yes, something my father told me all too often. The truth is, I was always fascinated by human culture, and it has had an effect.”

  “So why be such a hardass when you came to the Regiment?”

  “We all had a lot to prove.”

  “Yeah, well, you have done that and more.”

  They carried on. It seemed to take an age, but Taylor was cautiously optimistic. He hated the fact that he had fallen into such despair.

  Of course this isn’t over, how could it be?

  They went onwards for an hour when they heard the echo of gunfire ahead.

  “Like music to my ears!” Taylor declared.

  He raised his rifle and picked up the pace. He still had no idea what they were getting themselves into, and he didn’t care anymore. Down from the peak the weather wasn’t half as bad, but it was still less than welcoming. The fog was clearing a little, and they noticed flashes lighting up all over as they heard a battle rage. Taylor caught sight of something moving and took aim, but he still couldn’t quite make it out.

  It was humanoid in form, so he drew nearer. It had its back towards him and continued to move away from them. Suddenly, it drew to a halt as he closed quickly, and its head snapped around as if alerted to his presence. That’s when he realised. It was a Morohtan warrior, the bipedal kind not so different in size and silhouette to a human. He took aim and fired three shots, killing it before it could respond.

  “Looks like we came to the right place,” said Taylor.

  “Yes,” replied Babacan.

  Taylor smiled as his alien friend clearly didn’t get the humour, but he didn’t mind. They rushed onwards and soon came into sight of another five of the enemy, all with their backs to them. In the dense rain and fog, and the distraction of the gunfight on the far side, they were completely oblivious to their presence. Even the sound of Taylor’s rifle was drowned out by everything going on around them.

  Taylor kept rushing at them as he fired, and the others joined him. All four targets were dropped before they could turn and respond.