"What have you done to her?"
"I have made her better. The best version of herself that she could ever be."
"You made her a slave!"
"Yes," replied Bolormaa with a wicked smile, "And that is what she will remain. How could I end her life, when I know how much this will torment you? I don't need to kill you, Taylor. You will die by a thousand cuts."
Bolormaa turned and walked away, with Alita by her side. The Princes soon followed.
"Don't walk away from me!" Taylor screamed.
He took aim at the shield and fired a burst, but the shots were absorbed, and nothing passed through.
"Fight me with honour!"
Bolormaa stopped as she reached a ramp and looked back.
"Honour is in victory, and you know it. You have lost...everything."
"No!" Taylor cried.
But they stepped up the ramp, and there was nothing he could do about it. It sealed shut, and the whole back wall separated, as what was some kind of ship parted from the Toghaimur. Taylor was speechless and powerless.
"Roworth, don't let that vessel get away!" Rogers yelled over the comms.
It was too late, and a jump gate opened. The vessel and the rest of her fleet vanished into it.
"It's over," Taylor said in despair.
CHAPTER 3
“Just look at it,” said Jones in disbelief.
He, Rogers, and Taylor were aboard a shuttle, peering out of the window of the carnage all around them. It was as if they were riding through a junkyard. Ship after ship lay in ruin. As many of the enemy as their own, but that was of little relief.
“Why did she run?” Rogers asked.
Taylor shrugged.
“Because she couldn’t beat you, or not with any certainty!”
“She’s done this before. She enjoys prolonging our suffering. You heard her.”
“No, not this time. She’s hurting, and she has no reason to drag this out any longer. She starting to doubt that she can win this,” replied Rogers.
“How can you know that?”
“Because it’s my job to know. I work in Intelligence, or have you forgotten? I may fight beside you, but that was never my role here.”
“And how far has this intelligence work gotten us?”
“Pretty damn far, I’d say,” said Jones.
Both were surprised to hear him interject himself into the conversation. He’d never been particularly positive towards Rogers and his work.
“Oh, really?” Taylor said.
“Things are hellish right now, I won’t deny it. But let’s face it. Things were going this way no matter what. Rogers and Milo Rivers, they gave you a fighting chance against her.”
“And yet Earth is still in ruins. We failed.”
“The outlook is dismal, nobody is denying that fact, but it always has been. This is the course we were always set on, and any hope of changing that seemed like nothing more than a dream.”
“Bolormaa set out to destroy us all. She has failed, and it has cost her dearly. This isn’t over yet,” added Rogers.
Their small craft entered a docking bay and came in to land.
“I sure hope you are right, because from where I’m standing, we just got everything ripped away from us.”
“We’re still alive, aren’t we?” Rogers asked.
They touched down, and the door lowered onto the deck. Taylor sighed wearily. He was exhausted, both mentally and physically, but as he got to the doorway, he noticed who was waiting to greet them, Admiral Vega. They were aboard Resolution. Crews worked to repair damage to the facility and ships inside it. Vega himself looked a wreck. He was using a crutch, had a bandage around his head, and cuts on his face, but he was alive. That was the biggest relief so far, that a capable leader had made it through. He had thought it had all fallen on his shoulders. Beside him was an officer in his mid-twenties who looked fairly fresh-faced.
“Welcome back, Colonel. This is my new ship’s security officer, Lieutenant Santiago,” said Vega.
The younger man was clearly of South American origin. He had slicked back hair and a well cut and clean uniform. There was no a blemish on his body or clothing. He looked confident, but more like a dancer than a fighter.
"Nice to meet you, Colonel."
Taylor ignored him and addressed the Admiral.
“Thanks for the warning. We barely made it off the surface.” Taylor went forward and saluted.
“So what now, Admiral?”
“I hear you saw her, Bolormaa, face-to-face.”
“Yes,”
“And?”
“She wouldn’t fight me.”
“Why not?
“She says she wants to leave me to suffer.”
“But I believe she has other reasons,” Rogers joined them.
“I’m all ears,” replied Vega.
“She is running scared. She almost died the last time Taylor got his hands on her. She is weak, and doing everything she can to hide it.”
“She doesn’t look weak to me,” he replied, looking at the carnage around them. Wounded pilots and marines were still being ferried from several craft beside them.
“You’ve seen how powerful she has been in the past. The fact any of us survived this battle is a sign of how much things have changed.”
That gave Vega a slither of hope. Taylor didn’t share it.
“It doesn’t matter. It was all for nothing anyway, Admiral.”
“For nothing?”
“Earth is lost, and all who were down there.”
Vega was shaking his head, as if he knew otherwise.
“What is it?”
“The losses on Earth have been shattering, that is true. But not all were lost.”
“Yeah, we few managed to get off before the end, and look at us now.”
“No, Colonel, not all on the surface have been lost. You had to know that something like this was always a possibility. Earth has been overshadowed by the threat of destruction before, as you well know. Don’t you think we prepared for this?”
Taylor shrugged. He didn’t have that much faith in humanity today to believe they would have given it a moment’s thought.
“You’re saying there are people still alive down there?” Jones asked.
“I don’t want to get your hopes up. Billions have been lost, that much is certain. We are still waiting for the figures, but many have survived.”
“How many?”
“Millions, that is all I know, Colonel.”
“How?”
“Through the Mareth Project.”
“What the hell is that?”
“Something I heard rumours about, but I never knew it ever actually happened.”
“What is it?”
“A vast series of underground bunkers, sealed and protected against any biological attack, and almost anything that could have been thrown at it.”
“But to hold millions, it would have to be vast.”
“Yes, it is. The last report I received suggested a capacity worldwide of almost eight hundred million, and more every day.”
“Whatever Bolormaa did, it happened fast,” said Rogers.
“Yes, and nothing like that number must have been able to make it. But there are survivors, many survivors.”
Taylor’s face suddenly turned from a scowl to some resemblance of hope, and relief.
“What? You’re serious.”
“Damn right I am. There was always a solid chance things were going to get this bad. It became clear a few days into the war. The Mareth Project was the best kept secret on Earth.”
“The resources it must have taken,” he gasped.
“Worth every penny, Colonel. I assure you.”
Taylor couldn’t help but think those resources could have been put to better use in the war effort, and yet he couldn’t imagine how it would have made any difference. Suddenly things didn’t seem so bad.
“Alive, millions, alive?” he repeated.
“But billions dead,
” replied Jones.
“They are lost now. We will mourn and honour them, but we have to think to the living first and foremost,” stated Vega.
“The Admiral is right. We can’t dwell on what we no longer have. Humanity goes on, and that’s what is important.”
Jones was still despairing, and yet Taylor’s feelings were the very opposite. He had accepted that all down on Earth had died. That this was all they had, a dwindling fleet that would be hunted to destruction. This was the end. But it was not the end. It was a relief to him, more than he could put into words.
“But the planet? What now?” Rogers asked.
“Things are bad, I won’t deny it,” Vega sighed.
“Mareth, how long can it sustain them down there?”
“A good while, but not without help.”
“How long is a while?”
“If Mareth had been fully operational, they could have lasted fifty years without ever needing help from anyone.”
“But it’s not fully operational, is it?” asked Rogers.
“I’ve got to hand it to those who designed and built it. They did a fine job…”
“How long can they last?” snapped Taylor.
“Maybe a month.”
“A month?” Jones balked.
“Do you know what it takes to feed, house, and care for that many people? They need food, water, a clean air supply, warmth, sanitation, the list goes on.”
“If they were kept supplied, could they go on longer?” Rogers asked.
“Sure, if we can set up a supply network, and live long enough to keep it going.”
Rogers sighed.
“If Bolormaa finds out that she didn’t finish the job, you know she’ll come back for more,” said Jones.
“Who else knows about this?”
“Aside from those down there, Colonel, probably only two other people in this fleet.”
“So people are mourning for those lost, when they may still be alive?” asked Jones.
Vega nodded.
“It needs to stay that way,” stated Taylor.
“What? Do you know how cruel that is?”
“Yes, Jones, but it’s a damn sight better than leading Bolormaa right back to the survivors so that she can finish the job.”
“So that’s it? Our people live in secrecy, beneath the surface of a dead world, cowering for their lives?”
“For now, yes.”
“Captain, there is only so much we can do. You have seen this war first hand, and you have seen what we have left. I’d be amazed if we could amass twenty ships right now.”
“Then call for help. Call the other races to our aid.”
By the look on Vega’s face, there was more bad news to share.
"What is it, Admiral?" Jones asked.
Taylor knew it was too good to be true. There had to be a catch. Vega seemed reluctant to speak, and that made it all the worse. It had to be bad.
"Whatever it is, we can handle it," said Rogers.
Vega grimaced, but he finally came out with it.
"Earth is not the only planet that Bolormaa has struck."
"How many?"
"All of them, all of the ones that really matter."
"All?"
"The capitols of the Krys and Cholans. We have lost contact with the Aranui, but rumour is they succumbed to the same fate."
"She can't have destroyed every world colonised by the Alliance?" Jones gasped.
"No, not quite, but dozens of worlds. Anything with more than a few million inhabitants was targeted, and I don't think she missed a target."
"Scorched Earth. Then this is it, the end of the Alliance," said Jones.
Taylor had seen it all before, but never on such a broad scale, and never so successfully.
"Not while we remain strong," said Rogers.
"Strong? Who is left to be strong? You heard him. There is no Alliance."
Taylor was shaking his head as they argued with one another.
"Enough!" he snapped, "This is shit, and there is no denying it. No, it's a lot worse than shit. Nothing I have ever been through, nothing humanity has ever experienced compares to this, and I think it's going to take some time to take it in. But it's happened, and there is no going back. We have to keep moving forward."
"Moving forward with what? We are shattered. I don't even know how long we can keep this fleet flying, let alone the people on Earth fed and alive," said Jones.
"So that's it, is it? Things are shit, so you give up?"
Jones was insulted he had even suggested it, but Taylor wasn't going to back down.
"Do you know when things were at their very worst? When humanity knew little of the universe, and we were forced to leave this Solar System? When the majority of the world's population were dead, and we had to run for our lives, tell me how that is any different?"
Jones couldn't find a retort.
"Come on, Gentlemen. This isn't getting us anywhere."
"No, exactly." Taylor turned to the Admiral.
"Tell us you have a plan. Tell us you have some way forward. Tell us there are still people down there that are in charge and calling the shots."
"Yes, there are, but it may be some time before we can reach them."
"What is the hold up?"
"Mareth was a complex system that had to prepare for all manner of scenarios. Whatever Bolormaa unleashed on Earth, it is making communication difficult."
"How do you even know anyone is alive down there?"
"Emergency transponder codes. We can make contact, but discussing anything in any detail is difficult at best."
"So who is in charge up here?" Rogers asked.
"I am," replied Vega.
He didn't look happy about it, but neither did he shy away from the responsibility. That is what Taylor had always liked about the Admiral. He was a man who never shied away from anything. They didn't always see eye to eye, but that didn't matter.
"So what do we know about the rest of the Alliance?"
"Not much. Bolormaa struck far and wide, and clearly this fleet we fought was not all she had at her disposal. We have received reports of attacks. Nothing quite on this scale, though."
"She spread herself thin. Underestimated what it would take to beat us here," replied Taylor.
"I'd say she gave us a pretty damn good beating, wouldn't you?" asked Jones.
"The fact we survived at all is a damn miracle. You remember how bad it was a few weeks ago. The thought of anything short of complete annihilation seemed like nothing more than a dream."
"Isn't that what we have here?"
"No, we have each other, and that still goddamn means something," he said, smashing his hand down on a box. It was such a hard strike in his armour that the box smashed under his weight. That’s when he noticed how numb everyone around them way. Nobody jumped or was alarmed by the sound. Most just stared out into open space as if they were in a dream.
That was when it struck Taylor just how bad things were for them. The fact it wasn't as bad as he had first realised was a relief to him, but that information had not been shared. Not only that, but he had been through such monumental loss before. It still ripped him apart inside, but he was weathered to it. Acclimatised to the pain.
"We are wrong, they have to know there is hope, that there are people down there still alive."
"We can't tell them. We can't risk that kind of breach of information. We have no idea how far and wide Bolormaa's spies are."
"Maybe so, Admiral, but look at their faces. They are broken. They have nothing left to fight for. Even survival seems pointless right now. They need hope."
"What hope is there?"
"There is always hope, Jones, while good men and women still fight," replied Rogers.
"I don't need a sermon, and neither do these folks."
"They could do with both," replied Taylor.
They were united against Vega in this at least.
"We can't. We just can't."
“Can’t, or won’t?”
“If we share this news, we endanger the lives of everyone we saved. Not just the ones on Earth, but everyone here. Right now, Bolormaa thinks she has finished us. Thinks she has left us to suffer and die slowly. What do you suppose would happen if she learned that she had not finished the job?”
“Let her come. We are ready.”
“No, we are not. Look around you, Colonel,” pleaded Vega, “Sure, it would help them now, and what about when they have lost everything? Get some rest, and let’s think this over. We aren’t leaping into anything.”
“It’s not leaping that worries me, but being pushed,” he replied.
“I hear you. But as far as we know, we have a little breathing room, and God help us we need it. Get yourself cleaned up, take a few hours to relax, and then get some sleep. Quarters for you and your people are available as always.”
“Rest and sleep?” he asked in amazement.
“You’re damn right. You barely had chance to recover from your fight with Bolormaa, and now after all this. Clear your head. There is plenty of work to be done here, but nothing a marine can do. I don’t want to see you for at least ten hours, and that is an order, do you get me?”
“Yes, Sir.”
Vega left them, but Taylor felt deeply for the crews and marines around him. They looked lost. He’d seen that look so many times before, but it seemed far worse this time, and he didn’t blame them for it. Things were that bad.
“So, what now?”
“We have our orders, Jones,” replied Rogers.
“Put the word out. Get some rest and be ready for action in ten hours,” replied Taylor.
“You are actually going to follow orders?”
“Sure, it’s not a terrible idea. There will be plenty of work needing our attention before long, let’s make sure we are at our best for it.”
He wished he had more answers for everyone. He wished he could explain to all those aboard that there was hope. It wasn’t much, and yet compared to losing everything, it seemed like a boon. He carried on to his quarters and was glad to strip off his armour. As he lifted off his vest, his hand brushed his cheek, and he winced in pain from where the ricochet had cut him. The wound hadn’t been seen to, but he didn’t care. It was insignificant compared to what others had to deal with. He climbed into the shower and let the hot water clean the wound.
Battle Beyond Earth - Box Set (Books 6-9) Page 68