Battle Earth: 12

by Nick S. Thomas

  Taylor slowly nodded his head and looked back to Silva.

  "Have them ready for 0600 tomorrow, same as before."

  "Getting into a bit of a pattern, aren't we?”

  "Yes, Major, a pattern of taking Erdogan's forces down piece-by-piece, and he must be feeling it by now," added Taylor.

  Silva began barking his orders at the troops still disembarking from the transport. Taylor finally looked back to Moye and could see he wasn't going to take no for an answer.

  "I'll see what I can do. Walk with me."

  Taylor carried onwards, but his first stop was to an ammo dump en route to HQ. He walked in to find a quartermaster arguing with a Lieutenant, but on seeing Taylor, they both fell silent until the quartermaster finally asked.

  "What can I get you, Colonel?"

  Taylor pulled out six empty magazines from his webbing and threw them down on the counter.

  "Six mags and three HE grenades."

  "You got it, Colonel."

  Everything he had asked for was placed before him in a matter of seconds. Taylor loaded up his webbing and smiled at the frustrated Lieutenant before walking back out.

  "You know with the role you have taken around here, you can do more good than just what you do with your own hands. After all, you are only one man, one marine. But as a leader you can do so much more."

  "I'm doing what I can, but if you think I'm ever gonna be caught unprepared again, you don't know me at all."

  Taylor stopped and put a hand in the way of Moye and looked down at his lack of armour. All he carried was a sidearm.

  "Mechs attack, right now? Clones reveal themselves? One of the Aranui decides they got a beef with you? What are you gonna do about it? Expect everyone else to do the fighting for you?"

  "Sometimes a leader must take a backseat and command."

  "Yeah, and that's no excuse for complacency."

  "Colonel, I am not some paper pusher who has never had to get his hands dirty. You of all people know that."

  "Yes, you're a good fighter, Major, but you're a fighter first and a leader second. And until such time that someone pins stars on your uniform, you'd do well to remember that."

  Moye thought on his words for a moment, and Taylor turned and carried onwards as Captain Morris joined them.

  "Captain, I have the Sergeant Major preparing the Regiment for our next operation. You'd do well to be sure you're ready also."

  "I'm good to go," he replied confidently.

  Taylor looked over to see he was clutching a pile of fresh magazines and grenades that he was stuffing into his webbing. It brought a small smile to Taylor's face that the Captain was following his lead.

  "You see, Major, a man who is always ready."

  They carried on to the HQ building that had been established and directly into the operations room, where they found twenty officers and other staff busy at work. In the middle of the room sat General White. He was perched in a wheelchair and looked both exhausted and unwell.

  "Well done," he said on seeing the two of them, "That was a vital military installation destroyed and with acceptable losses."

  Taylor grimaced at the term 'acceptable'. It never sat well with him.

  "We got the job done, Sir."

  White beckoned for them to come closer, so he could talk with a little more privacy. He took in a deep breath, and it was clear he needed to get something heavy off his chest.

  "Taylor, you know I am in a bad way. My wounds are recovering slowly, some of them maybe not at all. I'm old."

  "You've got some fight left in you yet, Sir."

  White nodded in appreciation as he went on.

  "You've taken on a much bigger role around here than your rank would suggest, Colonel..."

  Taylor thought he could see where this was going and quickly interrupted.

  "I'm not looking for promotion, General, and I don't want it either."

  White shook his head. "No, I didn't imagine that you did. You're already spending most of your time doing the duties of a Captain or Major at most. Hell, the only reason you have the rank of Colonel is so that you can lead your own unit, and yet you've taken it upon yourself to make some big decisions. You somehow promoted a Captain to the Admiral of the fleet, making him superior to all of us. And the craziest thing of all is that everyone has accepted it."

  "It was necessary, Sir," Taylor spat back.

  White seemed shocked by his response.

  "It was not a criticism, Colonel. For what it's worth, I think Lasure has already shown himself to be well up to the task. My point, Colonel, is that you are making decisions a Colonel should never make."

  "Well, you've got me, Sir. I did, and here we are."

  White nodded in agreement.

  "Let's be clear. My body is a wreck. I may yet one day recover, but at present I am unable to fulfil my duties as a General in the United States Marine Corps. Hell, I'm not sure the Corps even exists anymore. Most of your Regiment are from other services or even other nations."

  "It exists if we say it does, and we keep fighting for it," said Taylor confidently.

  White seemed impressed with his commitment.

  "I'll stay on here, doing what I can, but I cannot be considered much more than an advisor right now. The command structure is in tatters. We've got officers from a few dozen different nations pushing for their bit of power, and then we have you, Colonel, the man that is holding it all together. Lasure has been accepted as Admiral because you put him there, and there is not one among us in this fleet that would dare question that decision."

  Taylor was speechless. He'd never given it so much thought.

  "That's a lot of responsibility for a Colonel. Hell, that's a lot of responsibility for one man. While you remain alive, and keep doing what you've been doing, you have the undying support of this fleet. Remember that. You are accepted by mob rule, and the voice of the mob can be more powerful than you can imagine. You keep doing right by them and you’re safe. Veer off that path, and you could find a rope around your neck."

  "There is only one task I must fulfil, only one thing left in this world I must achieve. Kill that son of a bitch Erdogan. I will find him, and I will kill him. I don't care how long it takes and what price I have to pay. This will end with me tearing his head off and holding up high for all his armies to see."

  "And I don't know a single man or woman who wouldn't do all in their power to see you reach that day."

  Taylor could see it was his opportunity.

  "If the civilians are as committed to this action as we are, then we need them to join this fight, Sir."

  "We've been bringing plenty of them into the fold. We've got training camps running night and day to get recruits in the field."

  "We need more," stated Taylor.

  "We need conscription," Moye said from behind him.

  White was shocked by the concept and had to think about it for a few moments.

  "I can't ask that of them."

  "You don't ask for conscription, General," added Moye, "You order it."

  White shook his head. "I have already said I am but an advisor here. The Admiral would have the say on this matter, and even beyond him, he may not have the sway to bring over a few of the nations. You know how many Generals we have in this fleet?"

  Taylor shook his head.

  "Last count was thirty-four. Half of them were in this room just an hour ago. They will all expect a say on what happens to their own nation’s people."

  "I don't believe we have that divide anymore," said Taylor, "We aren't Americans, or French, or British. We're one now."

  "Try telling that to them. If you want to call up civilians without their volunteering, the only one that can stand a chance of achieving it is you. Any one of us tries it, and we'll be shot down in flames. We could have another mutiny on our hands. Maybe you'd call it civil war now. You can ask it, Taylor, only you."

  Taylor shook his head. The responsibilities were piling up on top of him, and he was
feeling swamped and stifled by it all. He turned and looked to Moye, but he only nodded in agreement with what the General had said.

  "I think you are starting to understand now, Taylor. You're too important to lose, but neither can we take you out of harm's way, as you are vital to the war effort."

  "So don't die," said Moye.

  "Yeah, thanks."

  "So what'll it be?" White asked.

  "If we're gonna do this, I'll have to go through Lasure first."

  "He'll accept whatever decision you make," said White.

  "Maybe, but that is not how we do this. Get me a line to the Admiral."

  White didn't hesitate to press a few buttons on the console before him. Taylor's head spun while he considered how he could broach such a subject to the civilian population of the fleet. Twenty seconds later he was shaken by Moye; he had gone into a daze and forgotten everything that was around him.

  "What can I do for you, Colonel?" Lasure was now projected before them.

  "Admiral. Major Moye here believes we are not getting enough volunteers, and that conscription is necessary if we are to keep up a sustainable force for our attacks on Earth."

  Lasure was even more shocked than White had been.

  "What do you think, General?" Lasure asked.

  "It doesn't matter what I think. This is a numbers game. They have more. We've got tens of thousands of military personnel fighting for our survival, and we've got probably hundreds of thousands of fit and able civilians who would be able to fight."

  "And you need my authority to issue such an edict? You know if I do this we could have full-scale riots, mutinies, and unrest on our hands? It's not just about those civilians. How do you think our crews will feel having their families and loved ones asked to go to war?"

  "I think they'd understand by now," replied Taylor quickly.

  Lasure laughed. "Understand? Plenty of people haven't been all that understanding of my sudden promotion. How do you think it would go down if I tried this? I could be deposed within a day."

  "Then don't."

  Lasure looked confused by the General’s response.

  "The Colonel here is our poster boy. Let him take it to them. He gets shot down for it, and we carry on as is. They accept it, and you pass the edict without any problems. You can't lose on this one, Admiral."

  Lasure thought for a moment, then turned his attention back to Taylor.

  "And you’re happy doing this? Happy forcing civilians into this fight?"

  "They seem happy to let us fight and die for them, so yes. Every fit man and woman not in a protected profession should already have signed up. But if they haven't, then we'll have to give them a bit of a push."

  "And you think they'll go along with being forced?"

  "Maybe forcing them isn't the way, but shaming them? What if I could make those people suitable actually want to come forward and sign up?"

  "I don't see how. They've lost so much. Wanting to go and fight such a vicious enemy does not sound appealing."

  "You leave that to me. Get me an open line to everyone in this fleet. I mean everywhere. Every ship, shuttle, and screen that exists."

  "That's not a problem; a priority broadcast can be initiated in ten seconds with my authorisation."

  "Then do it, Admiral."

  "Right now?"

  Taylor nodded.

  "Seven missions in seven days, Colonel, don't you think some rest and time to prep this might be a good idea?"

  "Yes it would, General, but if time were on our side, we'd do a great many things differently."

  White couldn't disagree.

  “You will be live with the fleet in five seconds, Colonel,” said Lasure.

  Taylor looked to the screen to see a countdown. He expected his pulse to rise as the pressure mounted, but he felt nothing. He watched it count down to three…two…one. The screen simply displayed how he looked to all that would be seeing him on screens, and a message at the top of the screen that read ‘live’ in red letters. There were no prompts at all until Moye finally nudged him in the back. He coughed to clear his throat and righted his posture before looking dead centre into the screen.

  “I am Colonel Mitch Taylor of the Inter-Allied Regiment. I am here for just one reason, so please hear me out. Over the last few years I have seen those serving with and beside me achieve incredible results, but at a phenomenal price. I think probably three quarters of the friends I had before we encountered alien life have now lost their lives. For those out there not currently serving in the military, we have done this for you as much as we have for ourselves.”

  He looked to White for some kind of indication of his thoughts, but he was blank, so he went back to the screen.

  “A good number of you have volunteered for service, but not nearly enough. I am here to tell you that whatever life you have now; it cannot last without your intervention in this war. A good many of you work in professions that we need to support everything we do, but there are still thousands, probably hundreds of thousands who could serve. Those of us who fight are too few. Some of the officers I know want to begin conscription, but I don’t think we need it because I believe those who can, will come forward. Men and women aged between sixteen and sixty, and who are physically fit, come forward. Volunteer to fight beside us, because without you, none of us have a future. What will it be? Keep ducking your duty as a human being, or fight for your future and the future of us all? All those who are able and willing, be sure to notify the captain of whichever vessel you are stationed on, or report to the recruit training camp on Ony. That’s all.”

  The transmission stopped, and Lasure appeared before him once again.

  “You said you wanted conscription, but you just asked for more volunteers? You know how many times we have done that since we have been here?”

  “I don’t want anyone who has been forced into it. I want every man and woman to be a volunteer, and to have a full comprehension of why they are coming forward. If they cannot understand how desperate these times are, then they are no good to us.”

  “I fail to see how we’ll get any more volunteers coming forward than before,” replied Lasure.

  “I think he might just have done it,” added White.

  Lasure turned away for a moment as he received a message and slowly looked back to Taylor. His expression had changed entirely, and whatever he had to say was clearly important.

  “What is it, Admiral?”

  “We’ve just received intel on a possible location for Erdogan.”

  Taylor’s face suddenly turned to immense concentration.

  “Where? Give me everything you have got, right now,” he demanded.

  “We need to give this some serious thought, Colonel.”

  “Just give me what you’ve got!”

  Lasure was stunned and a little intimidated.

  “This is the number one priority of the human race, Admiral! Send me everything you have, right now. I’ll start getting some teams together, and we’ll be en route within the hour.”

  “Colonel, we should…”

  “Just get me that information, Admiral!”

  With that, he turned and rushed out with Moye at his side, leaving White and Lasure to get on with it. Morris followed on after Taylor but knew better than to stand in his way.

  “Colonel, you have no idea what you’re getting yourself into.”

  “A chance to take down Erdogan? I don’t care how slim it is. That is all I need to know.”

  “Colonel, you have been going out there every day, all week. You’ve not been getting enough rest, and losing personnel and resources quicker than they can be replenished. Your luck only goes so far.”

  “Just far enough to end Erdogan’s life,” he replied and continued on at a rapid pace.

  Moye reached out and grabbed his arm, attempting to stop him in his tracks, but the power Taylor’s Reitech suit had allowed him to brush it off and leave Moye where he stood.

  “Colonel Taylor!” h
e yelled.

  Taylor sighed and finally stopped and turned back to the Major.

  “What do you want from me, Moye?”

  Moye took a deep breath before answering. “I want to see the Colonel Taylor I got to know. I came to trust you because you proved worthy. But you’re getting desperate. You’re running your people thin and hard, and taking unnecessary risks.”

  “Unnecessary? Not a single one of my actions has been unnecessary. And I will not stop until I have done what needs to be done.”

  “Even if it costs the lives of everyone you know. Even if it costs your own life?”

  “Taylor didn’t respond for a moment but then shrugged, as if to admit that it was an acceptable situation.

  “You’ve lost yourself, Colonel. Too caught up in revenge to see clearly.”

  “Yeah, or maybe now I’ve finally got the focus to get the job done.”

  He turned and strode onwards. It wasn’t long before he stepped into a mess hall where he knew he’d find his people getting some chow.

  “Colonel?” Silva asked, spotting Taylor enter.

  “Assemble the Regiment. We move out in twenty minutes.”

  “Silva was speechless for a moment, but he could see Taylor was being serious.”

  “All right, Inter-Allied, form up!”

  There was no enthusiasm from those sat enjoying a brief moment of peace. But Taylor simply turned and left, trusting in the Sergeant Major to get them up and moving. Morris was waiting outside the mess hall as he made his way outside. Jafar was with him.

  “You have found Erdogan?” Jafar asked.

  “Maybe. Sounds like a good enough lead to give it a shot.”

  “You would follow any lead,” he stated.

  Taylor turned and looked at Jafar in surprise.

  “Don’t you start as well! We’re going after this son of a bitch, and if it fails or we don’t find him, we’ll pursue the next lead, and the next one after that until we do find him.”

  “And when we do?”

  “We kill him.”

  “How?” Jafar replied plainly.

  Taylor looked surprised. “What do you mean, how?”

  “Last time we fought Erdogan…we barely survived.”

  “Yeah, well that was then, and this is now,” he snapped back.