"What is this?" Berlin asked.
"This is what's gonna keep us in the fight, Corporal. Where we just came from, that was merely the back door. Welcome to Bunker Drachenburg."
He placed his palm on the reader, and a moment later, the mural split in two and retracted into the frame around it. Blast doors behind that opened soon after, and they were all left mesmerised at what they saw. A vast underground hangar stretched for half a kilometre and was lined with armoured vehicles and weapon stores. Thousands of Reitech suits lay in racks along the lengths.
"Wow," said Reynolds.
Kelly led the way forward. After all they had been through, he could see it was to them like walking through winter wonderland.
"How, how is this possible?"
"You see, Corporal, there is hope, just not in the form you would have expected it. We don't have ships. We don't have a way out of hell. But we do have a tonne of hardware and a capable army willing to use them."
"I need to get Captain Becker down here, Sir."
"Then do so."
The Corporal quickly got Becker on the comms, and Kelly overheard it all.
"Sir, Captain Kelly has found resources down here that you are going to want to see."
"Just catalogue them, Corporal. That'll be all."
"Sir, it would take me all week to catalogue what we have down here. It's beyond belief. Everything from ammunition to main battle tanks."
"What? I didn't hear that last part!"
Taylor smiled as he could hear Becker finally take Berlin seriously.
"You heard me, Sir. You need to see this for yourself."
It took Becker just five minutes to reach the entrance to the hangar, and he stopped on finding the entrance.
"How did we not know about this?" he asked.
"Guess it was need-to-know," replied Kelly.
Becker took a few paces forward and stepped into the hangar with two of his tank crew. They were astonished by what they saw.
"Before I was a Captain, I was a Commander," said Kelly, "I never wanted the job it turned out to be. When I signed up, being a Commander meant keeping order on a peaceful moon with a small colony. But times changed. We all changed."
"Sir, Captain Becker!" a voice cried.
They turned to see a man run frantically into the hangar and then stop in shock at what lay before him. It was such a surprise that he forgot why he’d even come there.
"What is it, Private?" Becker hollered.
"Uhhh....Sir...Sir...the Colonel. You need to come quickly."
Becker rushed out and followed the Private, and the others followed suit. They were led to the medical wing where they found Becker's commander lying on a bed with two medical staff stood over him. Becker went right to the Colonel's side. The Colonel was weak. Kelly didn't recognise him and did not even know his name.
"You're gonna make it, don't worry," he said, looking up at the two medics. They shook their heads.
"Don't give me that. The Colonel has to pull through this. Do something!"
"We're medics, not doctors. We have done everything we can for him."
"So what, that's it?" Becker shouted.
The Colonel reached up and took his hand, and that silenced him.
They all waited for the Colonel to speak, and finally he managed to at barely more than a whisper’s volume.
"It's okay. I'm done. You know I am."
A tear dropped down Becker's face. It was the most emotion they had seen since arriving. He had appeared such a cool and calm officer. Perhaps too calm and carefree Kelly had thought.
"Who's this?" the Colonel asked.
"Kelly, formerly Commander of the MDF."
The Colonel smiled and then looked back to Becker.
"Then you are in good hands. Trust him."
The Colonel took his last few breaths and finally passed. Becker was at a loss for words. Kelly could not help but feel surprised that his last words were in support of himself. He had never met the man, but Kelly could see he meant more to Becker than being his superior officer. Becker looked up to Kelly as more tears streamed down his face.
"How did you know him?" he asked.
Kelly shrugged. "I am sorry, but I have never seen this man before."
"And yet he trusted you."
Kelly shrugged once more. He was not able to explain it.
"He was my brother-in-law. The only family I had left," Becker added.
"Then I am sorry, truly, but he was not the last of your family."
Becker looked up, not understanding him.
"Your brother-in-law, you say?"
Becker nodded.
"So of no blood relation, and yet you called him family?"
"Yes."
"He was family because you chose to consider him as such, did you not?"
"I did. Always hated him for years and look, now I cry over his loss?"
"You made him your family. I am making you my family," added Kelly, "We have all lost the ones we love. We are all in the same boat. We might as well be family now, and we will fight and die as a family. I will call you a brother, Becker. Will you do me the same honour?"
He stretched his hand out in front of Becker and over the body between them. Becker had to think on it for just a few seconds before taking Kelly's hand and embracing him as a friend and brother.
Chapter 8
Taylor sat around a table of key officials just as he had done the day before, and more times than he wanted to count now. He wanted to sleep, or do anything but be where he was now, but it wouldn’t be allowed, not yet. He had to be debriefed and had to be there, according to Huber. He knew it was protocol.
But what the hell is protocol anymore?
“Colonel Taylor, are you with us?” asked a voice.
He looked up and around the room and couldn’t even tell where question had come from, as he’d gotten so close to a moment’s sleep.
“Yeah, I’m with you. What was the question again?”
“You described something called Juggernauts. Tell us more about them,” asked Dupont.
“They’re big, mean bastards. You don’t want to go anywhere near them. Our boys are having a hard time against them, and they were definitely the reason for such high casualties earlier today.”
He could see his straight talking and cursing was not something they were accustomed to at their table, but he wasn’t ready to apologise or change his manner.
“Okay,” said Huber, “Have we got a figure on our losses aboard the barge?”
Dupont was quick to answer.
“Current figures are four thousand three hundred and eight. Mostly civilians. At the moment, it is hard to tell the number of civilian and military losses. It will be several more hours until we have the exact stats.”
Huber shook his head. “As well as however many on the Goeben were actually friendlies. We could have well over five thousand dead. Five thousand!”
The room was still silent.
“Five thousand in the wars on Earth would be unsettling. Uncomfortable, undesirable, but now, it’s a tragedy. Ladies and Gentlemen, there are only so many of us left.”
Nobody said a word as Huber took in a deep breath and wiped his brow. Taylor could see his unease at being the leader of humanity as far as they knew it. It was more weight on anyone’s shoulders than he could ever imagine.
“Five thousand in a single day? We cannot survive at this rate. Things have to change.”
“But how can that happen while we do not have a system of government?” Bletchley asked.
He was one of the few civilian representatives at the table, and they all turned to him with a look of scorn.
“The fleet, these people, they need…” added Bletchley.
“They need to survive!” Huber interrupted loudly.
“And there is more to that than…” Bletchley began to scream.
Huber smashed his hand on the table. It was hard and loud enough that it silenced Bletchley.
&nbs
p; “Bletchley, you might have understood the politics of running a government back on Earth, but you have no idea what it is to manage a fleet under such desperate conditions as we face today.”
Huber got up from his chair and paced around the room. He rubbed his chin and grumbled as he carried on pacing around them all. Taylor could see he was contemplating a painfully difficult decision, and everyone waited for him to make it. Finally, he got back to his place at the table and leaned over it.
“I have had enough of this bickering and arguing. I do not want to do what I have to, and never wished or hoped for it. We do not have a government, or any means of establishing an effective one at this stage. I am declaring this a military matter, and therefore the civilian authorities will adhere to military control for the safety of us all. As the ranking officer of this ship and the fleet, I am taking charge under martial rule until such time as the safety of this fleet allows a civilian government to be formed for the benefit of us all.”
“But we have already begun setting up a regime,” Bletchley stuttered.
Taylor could see in the man’s eyes that all he wanted was his slice of power and that made him feel sick, but he said nothing. He could see Huber had the situation well in hand.
“Continue to establish your government, and maybe it will be of use. But it will submit to my authority until such time as it is fit to rule, and we are in a position of safety which permits a civilian government to operate.”
“But…who knows when that could be?”
“Indeed, who knows? That is the very reason for making this decision, Mr Bletchley.”
“Deputy Prime Minister…”
“Mr Bletchley!” Huber balled, “You might have been something special on Earth, but now you are nothing more than a single man who is yet to prove himself or be deserving of any more respect than I have given you. If you hadn’t noticed, Earth is gone; at least for us. Whatever we do now is entirely new and built from the ground up. Our military leaders are decided for us because we are stuck in the jobs we have been doing throughout. As a representative of your government’s parliament, I would expect you to have a key role in establishing a government, but that must be earned. Have I made myself clear?”
“Yes,” he mumbled.
“Gentlemen, Ladies. We have had quite enough for now, but we have much to talk about. I propose a recess of two hours to reconvene at 1800 hours.”
Taylor was the first to get up. He had been eager to get out of the room from the moment he first stepped foot in it. He went out into the corridor but felt a hand on his shoulder forcing him to turn back. He turned and found Bletchley standing behind him.
“Colonel Taylor, I must ask your help. You have had a good relation with the people of the United Kingdom for some time. Will you hear me?”
“No,” Taylor said firmly.
He turned and walked away, but Bletchley ran after him and went past to block his path.
“Colonel, don’t you see what is going on here? Both of our countries were built on democracy, and we have both fought to defend it in our own way.”
Taylor shook his head.
“I didn’t fight for democracy. I fought for our survival.”
“But you would fight for it, wouldn’t you? Just as your founding fathers did? Admiral Huber is seizing control of the people of this fleet without any authority to do so. He is tearing up all that we built over the last few hundred years. He’s a tyrant, Colonel.”
Taylor carried on walking, but this time Bletchley put a hand on his chest and tried to stop him in his tracks with physical force.
“Colonel…please…”
Taylor took a hold of his wrist and twisted until he released his hand from the pain and then pushed him up against the bulkhead beside them.
“Listen to me, and you listen good, you hear? I don’t care for your politics. I don’t care for what party you support, where you are on the political spectrum, or if you agree or disagree with a single military decision. You work at the will of the Admiral, and I will not have you trying to undermine his command or authority. The next time I hear anything of the sort; I will consider it mutinous behaviour and treat you accordingly. Do you hear me?”
He kept a firm grip on the man’s wrist and squeezed a little tighter so that he squirmed.
“Yes, yes, okay!”
Taylor released his grip and carried on the way he had intended. Bletchley did not say another word as he left, but he knew he would be a problem in the future. Without even looking at his face, he could imagine the scorn and anger in the man’s face.
He isn’t one to forget, Taylor thought.
He headed right for his bunk. He knew if he didn't get sleep soon he would drop where he stood. When he reached their billets, he found Silva waiting for him at the entrance as he had before.
"Don't you ever sleep?" Taylor asked him.
"I get what I need."
It was clear Silva wanted or needed to talk to him, so he stopped and waited for him to continue.
"Sir, I have our casualty list."
Taylor nodded for him to continue.
"Sixty-four dead, twenty-one wounded."
Taylor shook his head. "That's about a quarter of our strength wiped out just like that, in a day?"
"Yes, Sir," replied Silva sombrely. Taylor tried to move on, but Silva placed a hand gently on his shoulder, causing him to stop.
"We can't carry on like this anymore," Silva added, "We take on the worst shit missions every time they come up, and pay a dear price for it, now more than ever. We keep this up, and there won't be anything left of the Regiment."
"So who would you have do the job we do?" he asked, "We have the greatest fighting force in the fleet and an amalgamation of some of the best soldiers and marines from around the World."
"Right now we do, but not if we carry on down this road."
"We're at war. We can't fight a war without losses, but neither can we continue onwards without replacing those losses."
Silva waited for him to continue, as if expecting some magical solution to their problem.
"It's time we did some recruiting and replenished the ranks."
"But how? Where do we get them from?"
"There are three million souls in this fleet. Some of them will be up to the task."
"People yes, but not elite fighting men and women."
"We can't be too fussy anymore. We can only do what we can with the resources we have. You leave it to me."
He carried on towards his bunk and simply jumped in, without even taking his boots off. He thought of those he had lost. He didn't even know who of his friends and comrades were dead yet. But he thought of how helpless he felt. There was nothing for him to do. No family to contact, no chance of a proper burial on home soil. He thought of recommending medals to both those who survived and posthumous ones, but it seemed so redundant.
"Colonel Taylor, Sir?"
He recognised Watkins who had fought beside him earlier that day. He lay flat on his bed and programmed an alarm on his watch as he replied.
"What is it, Private?"
"We're going to make it, aren't we, Sir?"
"In what way?"
"We're going to make it home, aren't we?"
It was a nice thought, and Taylor couldn't bear to disappoint him.
"Humanity was born to live on Earth, and someday we'll return," he finally replied.
It was a deliberately vague, if somewhat still hopeful answer, and he hoped it would be enough for Watkins, but no response came.
"You stick with me and keep doing what you're doing, and all will be fine."
With that, he shut his eyes and fell asleep in just a few seconds. Next thing he knew his alarm was buzzing. He’d had no dreams that he could remember, and it felt as if he'd only laid down two minutes ago. He sat up, but there wasn't quite enough headroom, so he had to slough. He groaned, as he had no choice but to get out and stand up. His body was aching and stiff, but he actually felt surp
risingly well rested. Then he remembered he was due back in session with the leaders of the fleet.
Ah shit, not again!
He turned around and saw an officer approaching. He smiled for a moment, thinking it was Jones, but as he rubbed his eyes and began to focus properly, he could see it was Captain Morris and remembered Jones was no longer of this world.
"Well, that's a downer," he muttered.
Morris overheard him as he neared, "Nice to see you, too, Colonel."
"Forget about it. I was in another world."
"How was it? Think I can join you there?"
Taylor nodded in agreement. "If only."
"Has Silva given you the casualty list?"
Taylor nodded and grimaced at the thought of it.
"Most of them I never got an opportunity to know or even learn their names," replied Morris, "But you have my word, I will do my utmost to ensure respectful burials and a service fitting of their bravery."
"Thank you."
He carried on past Morris, heading for the door at a shambling pace of a man who did not want to go where he must.
"You're the right man, you know," Morris said.
Taylor turned around surprised. He did not understand.
"To be advising the leaders of the fleet. You're the right man for it."
"Why?" he asked out of curiosity.
"Because there are men and women with great leadership skills, but you bring more heart and soul to the table of any situation than they can hope to imagine."
"Stop kissing my ass, Captain," he said with a grin.
"I mean it. We got this far because of you, Colonel, and don't you forget it. Trust your gut. It has gotten us all as far in life as we have. Don't stop doing that now."
Taylor nodded in agreement and turned to leave. He still wasn't sure how much he believed Morris, but it brought a smile to his face and instantly made him feel better about the day. It wasn't long before once again he was stepping into the room of high-ranking officers and civilian officials. He was the last one to arrive. He knew he was late by a few minutes, but no one dared say a word. They looked at the dry bloodstains on his uniform that were both his own and the enemies, but again said nothing. Everyone waited for Huber to speak.
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