Battle Beyond Earth: Retaliation

by Nick S. Thomas

  "Sometimes you meet an enemy that will come at you no matter what, until it draws its last breath. That is the most terrifying enemy of all, one that cannot be broken. It cannot be bought or bargained with or caused to flee."

  "Target their engines, and fire when ready."

  A small trickle of fire rang out, and their craft was struck. One engine was blown clear off the hull, and the other was powered down. It was knocked off path slightly but was still coming at them.

  "Have our fighters close and bring them to a dead stop."

  They watched the fighters move into position and fire grappling harnesses onto the hull of the enemy vessel, using their own engines to slow the vessel until it came to a halt three klicks from the station.

  "Launch a Marine detachment. I want that ship captured intact, and I want survivors for interrogation."

  "Captain, if I may say a few words?"

  "Of course, Colonel."

  "If you want what is best for all aboard this station, you will blow that vessel to hell, or at the very least hull her, vent to space, and leave her till you know there is nothing living inside."

  "Why? This is an enemy we do not know much about. We can surely learn a lot if we capture their ship and them alive?"

  Taylor shook his head.

  "We learnt all we need to know from the dead ones we brought back," said Jones.

  Taylor nodded in agreement. "It is a mistake to try and take the enemy alive. We still don't know their intentions, beyond their intent to do us harm. Destroy them now, and they can do no more harm."

  The Captain looked uneasy. He didn't believe Taylor was right, and yet at the same time knew the power and control the Colonel held.

  "Sorry, Colonel, but this is my decision. If we are going to face this enemy, I want to know what we are dealing with."

  He looked back to his crew.

  "Board her. Hold position until a full inspection can be carried out, and once our people are happy, I want her brought alongside for further investigation."

  He turned back to Taylor.

  "Colonel, I can understand your reservations, but we need information; the knowledge and an understanding of what we face here. This is the perfect opportunity for us."

  "You do what you have to do, Captain, just don't underestimate the enemy, no matter what."

  He left with Jones and Hariz, and once again Irala followed them, but he didn't know why. As he got off the bridge, he stopped and turned back to face Irala head on.

  "Why didn't you back me up in there? You have plenty of sway around here and not a word, why?"

  "To study the enemy is not a bad thing."

  "Bullshit, you must have endless files on those things."

  "Some, but from many centuries ago. If I based my opinion on humanity on my experiences of a thousand years ago, might that be an accurate assessment of your strength and abilities today?"

  "No," Taylor sighed, thinking about it more, "I've just got a bad feeling about this. Study the dead ones fine, but don't bring live specimens in contact with us. That is a recipe for disaster."

  "I am sure the Captain is more than capable of handling the situation."

  "We'll see."

  "So what now?"

  "Now, Jones? I want a goddamn coffee!"

  It wasn't long before they were sitting in a canteen with their drinks.

  "I've been out for a while. Get me up to speed."

  "It wasn't that long."

  "And yet plenty has gone on. Seems like I have awoken to a shit storm. So tell me, what is the present situation of the Alliance? What enemy encounters have taken place, how goes the war effort? If I wanted to be fed a line of shit, I would go up the chain of command. I am asking you because I want it straight."

  "Honestly, our encounter with the Amitads was out of the blue. Until then, it was much of the same. The war effort increases production every day. Ships are rolling off the lines, and troops are being trained. Technological advancements in anything to assist the war are always being worked on. Same old, really."

  "And yet you ended up ambushed by the enemy. Right after we killed one of Bolormaa's sons, seems convenient, doesn't it?"

  "I think the fact it was us that got hit was a coincidence, yes. But the enemy attacking in any way they can I think is no surprise at all."

  Taylor shrugged. It made sense, but he didn't like to speculate with so little evidence.

  "What are our orders?"

  Jones shrugged.

  "We don't have any," added Alita.

  "And the spear, what was it called, the Tamir, where is it now?"

  "The Pauri Tao," Irala corrected him.

  He hated using the Krys language for anything.

  "Whatever you want to call it."

  "The Pauri Tao is under the protection of my people, in its rightful place."

  Taylor looked appalled. "We risked our lives for that spear. A weapon your own people didn't even believe in."

  Irala had no response, so he turned to Alita. It was she who used it to slay the Morohta Prince.

  "Well? Why did you give it up?"

  She shook her head. "I had no choice. The President ordered me to."

  Taylor groaned.

  "We could not keep it safe, anyway. We are a frontline combat unit. That spear needs to be protected, and a very closely guarded secret. It has to be kept safe for the time when we really need it."

  Taylor was still not convinced, so he went back to Irala.

  "Do you promise me that it is safe, and that when it is necessary, we will have it to hand?"

  "If the time is right, you shall lay your hand upon it."

  "What the fuck is that supposed to mean?"

  "You need to understand, Colonel, the Pauri Tao is a holy relic, and even though many of my people did not believe in it anymore, now they do. It has led to the Aranui re-thinking all they know and believe. For if the great story of the Pauri Tao is true, what else might be? Open your mind, and let it dream about what could be."

  "Open my mind? Bolormaa and her fucking Princes will be the only ones wanting to open my mind, with a blade."

  "And yet the myths were true. The stories long lost, all true. What if such legends among your people are, too?"

  Taylor laughed. "I know what you are thinking, and no, Excalibur does not exist."

  "You know that like my people knew the Pauri Tao did not exist."

  Taylor shook his head, threw back his coffee, and then stood up. He couldn't take it any longer. As he strode off, only Alita rushed to keep up.

  "You need some rest," she insisted.

  "I'm not this way because I am tired. I am pissed off because I am hearing crazy talk when it's the last thing we need."

  She put her arm around his waist and helped him stand a little as they went on.

  "Where’re we heading?" She could see he wasn't in the mood to be pushed around.

  "Honestly?" he whispered, "I could do with my own bed."

  She was sympathetic and glad he had finally suggested it, knowing he would never take the advice of anyone else to do so. He reached his quarters and found them spotless. A new set of armour lay hung beside the bed. It was not his. There was not a scratch on it, let alone the hole where the Morohta Prince skewered him in their personal combat.

  He collapsed down onto the bed without even taking his boots off. He didn't want or feel the need to sleep, but his body was exhausted.

  "Guess you couldn't save my gear?" he asked, looking over at the fresh armour.

  "Yeah, sure, we saved it, but you won't be wearing it again. It has gone back to Earth."

  "What for?"

  "To be a museum exhibit. It is a highly valued artefact and symbol of an Alliance victory."

  "Great," he replied sarcastically, "And if I seem to remember, it wasn't anyone's victory but ours. We went on a mission nobody believed in, not even those who fought with us. And now the President, the Aranui, all hailing it as a great success. Where are those fuckers
when you need them?"

  She lay down beside him with a smile, which only led him to scorn.

  "What?"

  "You, you're hilarious."

  "How so?"

  "You claim to be such a task master, without a care for anything but getting the job done, and yet you're one of the most caring and sentimental people I have ever met. Were their many others like you in your day?"

  He smiled and nodded, but there was also sadness in his eyes.

  "Plenty, good men and women that we could do with right now."

  She could see it was a sore subject she would do well to pass over.

  "So, you think Wright taking that ship and crew alive is a mistake?"

  "I do."

  "Why? You were always one to make the most of captured technology, pioneer new things from it, and get information from those who served them."

  "There is a time and a place, and this isn't it. These primitive creatures have nothing useful to share with us. Nothing more than the bodies brought back from your last mission. Best-case scenario, they waste our time and require resources to be kept alive and detained. Worst case, well, you never know until it happens, do you?"

  She didn't look convinced, and he saw the expression on her face.

  "You don't believe me?"

  "I just think you need to place a little more faith in those around you. I mean, you were out for count on our last mission, and we managed okay."

  "Okay? Some of our best marines dead, and you call that okay? Watkins dead, too, he was one of the first in this unit. You think that is okay?"

  "That's not fair." She sat up and wiped a tear from her cheek.

  He sat up slowly and wrapped his hands around her.

  "I am sorry."

  "No, you are right. It isn't acceptable. No loss of life ever is, and yet how many times have you told me that you cannot win a battle without being willing to pay the toll in lives?"

  "I said that? Well, yeah, I think it, but it sounds a little poetic for my tastes."

  She finally smiled.

  "I get it, I really do, but you know me. I feel as responsible for those losses as you do, and I wasn't even there. I have to live with that, too. There will be many more losses before this is over. Friends, family, no one will escape the reach of this war."

  "The President is confident we can fight this away from Earth."

  Taylor laughed.

  "No one ever wants or plans to fight on home soil, and yet it is frequently the way it goes. We can make every preparation under the sun for this war, but when it comes, it will be fought everywhere you can imagine."

  "That's a depressing thought."

  Taylor shrugged.

  "You don't think so?"

  "For me, this is my family. We are in the fight, no matter what. I'll fight to keep civilians safe, and to keep Earth safe, and wherever else the Alliance is. But that isn't what I care for, it isn't why I do what I do."

  "Why do you do it? This was never your war. Have you really come to enjoy it, like so many have said you would? Have you become that much of a machine?"

  Taylor seemed to partially agree. "Is that such a bad thing? It's what we need."

  "But do you really enjoy it?"

  He thought about it.

  "I enjoy winning. I enjoy seeing what a difference I am making. Do I enjoy the fighting? I dunno, maybe. Maybe if I didn't, I would have gone crazy or be dead by now."

  It wasn't the first time his motivations had been questioned, and he frequently did so himself. Maybe it didn't matter anymore. He had a cast iron will to live and a desire to see those around him to keep living, too. He looked over to Alita. She was lost deep in thought.

  "What's on your mind?"

  She shook her head.

  "Just thinking about Bolormaa."

  "How so?"

  "She is not just coming for us. She is coming for you. You have humiliated her. You have turned this around. You are the one who has caused her so much trouble."

  "Yeah," he replied with a smile.

  "I am sure she will know your history well enough, or will do before long."

  "What of it?"

  "You have beaten some of the most formidable warriors in history in personal combat. Don't you think she might pick up on that? I cannot help but feel she will want to make an example of you, to cement her reputation in the history books."

  "You've really given this some thought, haven't you?" he asked, still smiling.

  "I'm serious," she replied with a deadly stare.

  But he brushed it off.

  "Maybe she will, maybe she won't, but I'm not going to start worrying about what might be."

  "And if it does happen. If Bolormaa does come looking for your head, what will you do then? Fighting one of her offspring nearly killed you, what will she do to you?"

  He agreed with her, but wasn't going to wallow on it too much.

  "I just can't afford to lose you. The Alliance can't either. You have given us hope, but where will we be if you fall?"

  He tried to comfort her.

  "Don't you worry; we'll be ready for her."

  "How? We are hanging by a thread as it is."

  "Hardly. The Alliance is stronger than ever."

  "Yes, and if we were to be fighting another Krys or Cholan war, we might be well prepared, but you know this is different. This is as bad as the dark days, the ones you yourself lived through, the days when total annihilation and extinction seemed like a very real possibility. I know the people of the Alliance don't see it yet, but Jones has shown me the history."

  Taylor shook his head.

  "Bastard."

  She looked surprised.

  "Why? What is wrong with looking into the past?"

  "What's wrong? It's making you think like this. Distracted, worried, confused. That’s no good to anyone."

  "Maybe we should be. Maybe it's right to be worried, to question what we do. We just lost Watkins, one of our very finest and best. We almost lost you. Promise me you'll make it through this."

  He looked uneasy.

  "You know that's one promise I cannot make. If I could promise any one of you that you would make it through, then I would."

  "But, I just..."

  She was interrupted by an emergency alarm. Taylor shot upright out of bed as if the sudden rush of adrenaline had washed away the pain that had overcome his body. Wright's voice came over the comms.

  "This is the Captain speaking. Enemy combatants have boarded this station. All personnel report to your stations. All civilians, remain in a safe location and seal all doors until I inform you otherwise."

  He was trying to sound calm, but Taylor could hear both fear and embarrassment in his voice.

  Taylor jumped into his suit. It quickly clamped on and sealed around him.

  "What are you doing?"

  He picked up his rifle from the rack on the wall and chambered a round.

  "It's time to go to work."

  Chapter 4

  "Get back inside and seal the door!" a voice yelled from up ahead.

  Taylor went forward quietly but in a determined and confident manner, his rifle held down to avoid friendly targets, but ready to use when the time came. He looked back over his shoulder just briefly to check Alita was still with him. She had no armour and only a pistol to hand, so he made sure she stayed well back, protecting her like he would a VIP.

  Screams rang out down the hall. The same voice repeated the command from before, but more frantically. They took the bend to find a single crewman with a carbine ushering people through a door. As the last got through, he began to take aim around the turn of the corridor at a target Taylor could not see. He managed just two shots when return fire struck him in the arm. The carbine was thrown from his hands as he recoiled back.

  Taylor sped up to the fallen man and held him, pulling him back as two of the barbaric looking Amitads took the bend. He was unfazed by their presence and fired a burst into one, killing it instantly, but the
other came at him with a quick swing from a crude looking sabre. He ducked under the blow, shot out its right kneecap, and then put two in its head. Alita fired another two to be certain, despite the fact it was obviously dead. He could see a bitter hatred in her eyes, one he knew all to well.

  The crewman was cradling his arm, and blood trickled out from between his fingers where he was trying to apply pressure. Taylor picked up his carbine and thrust it into his arms, forcing him to take it into his possession, before shoving him through the door where the frightened civilians were hiding.

  "Patch him up, and don't open this door for anyone until you hear from the Captain himself that it's clear, you hear?"

  They nodded gratefully as he stepped out of the doorway and hit the switch beside it. He waited a few seconds to hear the locks were activated before turning back to Alita.

  "I told Wright to blow that ship to hell, why won't people listen?"

  "Hey, you aren't always right. I'm sure he'll be happy to hear you say you told him so, if we get through this."

  "And how many lives will that cost? This is not an enemy to toy with. You don't take prisoners, and poke and prod these animals."

  She nodded in full agreement.

  "Then let's make that happen," she added.

  Taylor opened a channel directly to Wright.

  "What are we dealing with here?"

  "We haven't even docked with the enemy vessel yet. We just towed them in for closer inspection. I don't..."

  Taylor interupted him.

  "We can worry about the reasons later. What is the enemy strength and location?"

  "We have three breaches at air locks along the port side. I am sending location information to you now. I have already despatched Marine detachments to those locations. We are tracking them on surveillance, but everywhere they go, they destroy our camera feeds. They aren't as primitive as they look."

  Screams and gunfire rang out along the corridor.

  "Captain, you need to isolate all sectors with enemy presence and all decks either side. Seal this up now before they spread."

  "But you are in that zone, Colonel, as well as hundreds of civilians."

  "If they know what's best for them, they will already have found shelter. Seal off these sectors now!"

  "Got it..."

  Two gun shots rang out behind him, and he saw an enemy fall at Alita's feet before taking a third shot to the back of the head.