Blood was dripping from the man's mouth, and yet the fear seemed to have gone, and he was now taking it seriously. He went forward and struck two quick jabs into Babacan's stomach before using a low kick to the alien's lead leg, but it did not strike with enough power to topple him. Babacan kicked hard into Antos' stomach, causing him to be launched off his feet and land hard on his back. Even as he was falling, the alien was leaping towards him with the intent to land a punch that would flatten his skull to the ground below.
"Halt!" Taylor yelled.
The alien landed over the top of Antos. Neither he nor Taylor was sure if Babacan would have gone all the way, and that was terrifying to the Private. But Babacan opened up his huge clenched fist, offered his hand to the man, and hauled him to his feet.
"The first time I ever fought a Krys warrior in close quarters it nearly ended me. The fact is they have an edge over us genetically. They are bigger, stronger, more resilient to pain, and tougher. Now I can't tell you what it is we might have to face, but if Lieutenant Jones' reports are anything to go by, you can be sure it won't be easy."
"Antos is the strongest one here. If he can't win, what are we supposed to do?" asked one of the female troopers.
Taylor strolled over to the woman. She stood as tall as him and looked quite masculine, especially compared to Rocha who had just joined them.
"And you are?"
"Bailey, Sir."
"Well, Bailey. We have to make up for our deficiencies. Some of that can be achieved in superior training, but the reality is, we need to be physically stronger than our bodies were intended to be, and we must be armed with weapons that allow us to fight in close quarters.
"You're talking about hand-to-hand combat?" she asked, almost speechless, "You want us to fight like Vikings, hacking and slashing our way through our enemies, when we have access to the best ballistic weaponry ever made?"
"And when those wonders of ballistic technology fail you? When your back is against the wall and you're out of ammunition, then what do you do?"
Bailey shrugged.
"No answer? Well that just won't do when you've got a son of a bitch trying to rip your head off!"
He turned to Babacan who seemed to have enjoyed himself.
"You know Jafar fought beside me for many years?"
Babacan nodded.
"One of you big bastards can be a big help in a tight spot. I hear Jafar is busy ruling the empire I gave to him, but there is still room on my team. Want to fill those shoes?"
"It would be an honour."
Taylor could see the Humans beside him were less than impressed, but they were powerless to act.
Good luck bullying him, Taylor thought, smiling at the prospect.
"Lieutenant?" Taylor asked.
"Yes, Sir?"
"You have been given access to a whole world of resources for this team, and we can have anything we want, is that right?"
"I have been ordered to give you anything you need, and those orders come from the President and Lord Jafar. Not even General Fin can block our activities. What is it you need?"
"Time we sorted out the deficiencies in our equipment."
"We already have the best gear there is," he replied.
"Best at what? Is it the lightest? Best protected? Best camouflaged?"
Jones shrugged.
"You're geared up for the wrong war. Now, first things first, we used to use exoskeleton suits that increased our strength and load bearing capacities several times over. If we're gonna stand a chance when we take on whatever it is you encountered, we are gonna need something similar."
"We just don't use anything like that for combat personnel."
"Yeah, well who does?"
"Maintenance crews, engineers, that kind of thing."
"Show me."
* * *
Taylor and his unit stood before a vast hangar nestled away in a part of the base that looked almost abandoned. He punched in a code on the keypad entry system, and two doors ten metres high slid open. Vast racking systems ran the length of the half kilometre-long structure, and they were filled with equipment, light vehicles, and machinery. Thick dust lay over much of what they could see.
"What is this? The junkyard?"
"Pretty much, Sir," Jones answered, "Apparently, this is where obsolete and unused kit gets stored.
"As I said, junkyard."
"Not a lot of heavy lift suits still in use. Most of the work has been taken over by robotics and remote control droids. No point putting a guy in a suit when that guy can control a robot. Stay out of danger, and it makes life a whole lot easier."
"Right up until the point where you need a man to do the job, and a machine just won't do."
"Why such hostility towards our technology? I thought a fighting man like you would relish the ability to save the lives of those under his command."
"I never send men or women to their deaths. I send them to do a job right, and sometimes they die. That's the price of war. You honestly think a remote control soldier can be a replacement for having boots on the ground?"
"I do."
"Yeah, well we'll see about that."
Taylor stepped inside and immediately caught sight of the heavy lift suits Jones had been talking about. They were a little bulkier than the Reitech exoskeleton suits he was familiar with, and they had no armour or weaponry at all. The suit covered much of the body, but in an open skeleton style structure to protect against heavy objects, not ballistics or blades. At the hands were huge hydraulic pincers. Taylor stepped up and climbed into one of the nearest suits.
"Whoa, Colonel, what are you doing? You are not rated to use one of those."
But Taylor ignored the Lieutenant. He stepped into the suit, and it immediately clamped shut around his body and powered up. He jumped out of the storage rack and landed amongst some of his unit who back away in alarm. The suit wasn't horrendously bulky and only increased his physical size by thirty percent.
"Colonel, you must be trained and qualified to use a heavy lift suit. I must insist that you power down and get out," said Jones calmly.
Taylor ignored him as he lifted his hands and looked at the pincers he now controlled. He took a few paces over to where one of the hover vehicles rested in a state of disrepair. He reached down, clamped the grips onto the lower framework, and lifted it with ease.
"Oh, yeah, this'll work," he stated with a smile.
"Colonel..." Jones went on.
"Quit your bitching, Lieutenant. You're a soldier, not a traffic warden. Draw thirty of these suits and have them armoured up. They just got reclassified."
Jones was shaking his head.
"It's not as simple as just pick and choose equipment, and then have it entirely customised for an entirely new purpose."
"Damn right it is. Suit's pretty good as is. Send them to whoever does the maintenance on them, and have them liaise with vehicle repair crews. Shouldn't be too hard to get some armour welded on. It’ll give us at least fifty percent coverage. The load bearing capacity of this suit has to be pretty high, so make use of it, armour it up."
"I'll have to clear this with my superiors. It could take some time."
"Do what you gotta do, Lieutenant. But have these suits armoured up and ready to serve in seventy-two hours."
"We can't..." Jones began, but Taylor interrupted.
"Can't!" Taylor yelled, "Hell I don't want to hear that word out of any of your mouths, ever. We can, and we will. Now you improvise, and make this happen. We adapt to overcome all adversity, you got that?"
Jones begrudgingly agreed.
"Next thing. Your report said that even when using AP rounds, the issue rifle you used was having a hard time against...whatever they are you were fighting."
Jones felt a little sick and went white as he thought back to the harrowing experience and nodded in agreement.
"All right, so we've sorted out strength issue, time to get the big guns out. Time to hit the armoury. Lead the way."
/>
"Sir? If I may?" asked one of the men in his unit in a thick Scots accent.
"Yes...Private?"
"Murray. Sir, it seems like you're rewriting the book on everything we ever learned. Would it not be wise to use the skills and equipment we have that have been refined over, well, the hundreds of years since you have been away? Things have changed."
"Yes they have, and you know what? Not all change is good. You've grown soft without any real threat in your lives. You think because you're a professional soldier that you know what war is like. You don't, but you will, and if you want to survive it, you'll listen. I have in my time acquired a great many skills and a whole world of knowledge that has made me what I am today. All I am is a fighter, a marine, a weapon. That is what each and every one of you must become, the perfect weapon. Since such a thing doesn't exist, I intend to push you to the limits in pursuit of that goal."
He knew it sounded bleak, but that is how he thought now. He was pleased to at least have a purpose in this new life.
* * *
Taylor stood with his arms crossed and looked at a rack of weapons. Jones and Babacan stood either side of him. He was shaking his head he looked from one to another, and Jones waited for the next ridicule of what they had. Eventually, Taylor picked up the largest weapon there, the standard K15a that every soldier and marine used. He slammed in a magazine and took it to the end of the room where there was a firing range and fired a few shots. He didn't look impressed.
"The K15a is an ultimate evolution of the assault rifle," stated Jones, "Its lineage can be taken right back to the Reitech rifles you used to use, but not with a smaller calibre bullet and caseless ammunition. Same penetration, but substantially increased ammunition capacity and reduced weight."
"So you made it easier to use, great," Taylor replied sarcastically.
"So that was good enough for your days, but not ours?"
"Guns get bigger and more powerful as time goes by, Lieutenant. Those who stay the same lose the arms race. If your reports are right, then we need something bigger. What do you do for support weapons?"
"Support?"
"You know, when you need to put down some real firepower. Suppressive fire, bunker busting, anti-armour, all the big stuff."
"None of that is man-portable. We have armoured vehicles to do that sort of work."
"They did you a lot of good fighting in the confines of a star ship, didn't they?"
Jones could see his point.
"All right, so let's take this to the next level. We have to go big. Let's see the vehicle-mounted weapons."
They carried on through the armouries until the room opened up into a vast open plan area where maintenance and work was being carried out on several vehicles. The first thing that caught Taylor's eye was a turret with a massive gun barrel. It would serve him no purpose now, but he could see him coming back to it soon enough. But his attention was soon drawn to a smaller multi-barrelled weapon protruding from a cupola on the same turret.
"What is that, a Gatling?"
"Pretty much," replied Jones, "The Hydra. She fires a slightly larger round than our K15a, but at three thousand rounds a minute."
"There's a lot to be said for throwing more lead at the enemy. Let's take a look at one."
Jones led the two of them over to a counter where two of the weapons were laid out.
"Ah, now we're getting somewhere."
He leaned over and took hold of the vast multi-barrelled weapon and tried to lift it. He got just the lighter end of the top as he strained to manage the weight before giving up.
"Babacan, pick that up for me."
The alien obliged and hauled it off the counter, though it was clear that even he struggled a little.
"Think we can use that with the heavy lift suits?"
"Yes," he replied bluntly.
"Right then, we'll take a couple. What else is there kicking about around here?"
Jones pointed to a single barrel weapon with a large square head shield. It was almost two metres in length.
"We fit these on recon and scout vehicles as well as some light fighters, single fire only. The barrels can't take the heat build up for anything suppressive. Five times the armour penetration of our K15a, they’re limited to sixty rounds a minute maximum, but they hit hard."
"Sounds like a good battle rifle."
"If you're hunting big game," replied Jones.
"Trust me, we will be. Think you can get the length down below a metre and a half?"
"There were such modifications tried a few years ago. Accuracy suffered over two hundred metres, so the plan was dropped."
"Yeah, well I guess you never dreamed they'd become our new infantry rifle. Get them modified and ready to go."
Jones nodded in acknowledgement.
"That all?"
"No. Something we learned early on, never underestimate the enemy, and there is no such thing as overkill. What have you got that has some really hitting power? Something that will go through the toughest armoured vehicle in service?"
Jones looked at him in surprise.
"Only one thing that could come anywhere near to man portable."
"I'm listening."
Jones pointed to one of the small hover vehicles like he had travelled in before. This one had the front passenger seat removed, and a three metre-long gun barrel fitted in its place. It was almost as long as the vehicle itself. Taylor knew nothing about it, but he didn't need to.
"We'll take one."
"Colonel Taylor," a voice said beside him.
He turned to find General Fin, but he knew he had not been there a moment before. He knew it was a hologram, and he could just see some image distortion to tell for sure.
"Taylor, the time for preparation is over. We have an operation departing in thirty-six hours, and we want you on it. Gather your team and be ready to depart in the next twenty-four hours."
The hologram of the General vanished before he was able to could speak a word.
"Twenty-four hours? We can't have all this kit ready by then. We'll just have to go with what we've got."
"There's that word again, can't. I don't want to hear it, Jones."
"But this is insane, one day preparation?"
"War doesn't wait for any man."
"It's still not enough time to implement all this equipment and the changes."
"Then we'll do the best we can. The suits are working. Remove or retract the pincers so we can use these weapons. Just do what you can in the time we have."
Chapter 6
The doors to the assembly room slid open, and Taylor stepped out in the lead of his unit. A shuttle was waiting for them just fifty metres away. General Fin and five of his staff were waiting to see them off, but their faces were in utter shock as their eyes looked back and forth across the line. There were twenty-four fighters striding towards them. Every single one wore a modified heavy lift suit. All they had done was weld on two plates to the torso area for protection and painted them green. They carried the vast vehicle-mounted weapons that Taylor had selected and were an alarming sight.
"Is all of this really necessary?" Fin asked as they reached him.
"When what you're doing isn't working, you do something different."
"Fair point," he replied, still looking at their hardware in amazement.
"Taylor, I am placing you aboard the Guam. She's a fine ship and the Lieutenant here is already familiar with her crew."
"What's the mission?"
"You're heading into Cholan space. They've lost contact with two stations and two colonies. All reports so far would suggest those areas have been devastated. This new threat is spreading like a scourge, and it is the Cholan people who are bearing the brunt of it. We need to stem this flow before it gets any further. I know you fought for Earth, but you must understand that there is a lot more at stake here. You are not fighting for one race and one planet, but all of the Allied races and their worlds."
Taylor brushed off t
he General's attempt at a rallying speech.
"What's different this time?"
The General looked confused, so Taylor continued.
"This is the second time you've made contact with this new race, and both times they kicked the shit out of you. What has changed? What are you doing differently?"
Jones looked horrified by the way he spoke, but the General held up his hand to stop him before spoke.
"It's okay. I understand your reservations, Colonel. I have studied your file, or as much as I could. You've got a colourful history to say the least. I will be honest with you; a lot of high-ranking members of the Alliance think bringing you back was a waste of time and resources, and merely a pipe dream of the only two friends you had that are alive today."
"More words, they are useless. I need facts. Please cut the bullshit and answer the question."
The General sighed, but finally he obliged.
"The Aranui are sending six vessels on this mission. The Human fleet will be three times what was sent to Kepler. The Cholan Empire is amassing everything they can to rendezvous with you."
"And the Krys?"
"Lord Jafar is travelling to Tau Ceti to attempt to rally many of the independent factions there. In the meantime, he has sent his most senior and trusted servant, Sarik, to lead the Krys element of this venture, which is no small quantity of vessels. The fleet that was sent to Kepler was substantial, but only when we knew the true extent of this danger did we get the complete backing of Alliance leaders."
"Politics, it’s all crap," replied Taylor, "A threat existed and you poked it with a stick. That is no way to wage a war. You see something dangerous; you hammer it dead with everything you got. How many times do I have to say it? There is no such thing as overkill. So answer me this, General, have we really got everything there is for this mission or not?"
Fin looked hesitant to answer.
"That's what I thought."
He stepped past the General without another word.
"You think we're being fed into the lion’s mouth, don't you?" Jones asked.
"I don't think, I know."
"And yet still you go without fear?"
Battle Beyond Earth - Box Set (Books 1-5) Page 9