"And beer is worth coming back for?"
"It's not the beer that does it. It's this, this spirit, this excitement, and enthusiasm. Knowing the beer is here just reminds them where the party is."
* * *
Taylor stood on the deck of the Washington's loading bays. Before him was Major Moye and his people, as well as a number of other troops he had inducted into his ranks. It was just a small portion of the marines being assembled throughout the fleet. Taylor climbed up onto a storage box to address them.
"You all know what your mission is. I would be out there with you myself, were it not for the Admiral's express orders. With any luck, it'll be a walk in the park, a few days or weeks of moping about a ship with no excitement at all. Take the opportunity you have when not on duty to get what rest you can. You need it and you've earned it. But always remember, your job is to ensure the safety of the ship you are aboard. And to that end, stay sharp, and good luck!"
Taylor stepped down and went straight to Moye and shook his hand.
"Thanks for thinking of me, Colonel."
"Not like I had a lot of options, Major. Besides, in my own Regiment, you're the only officer I could trust."
"There'll be more. Give it time. Do you believe there is any chance of us finding a habitable planet?"
Taylor shook his head.
"I'd say absolutely zero. I figure this will be the first of a countless number of similar missions over the years to come. But who knows? Stranger things have happened."
"They certainly have."
"Good luck, Major."
Moye saluted, turned back to his people, and ordered them aboard the transports. Taylor wanted nothing more than to go with them. Despite not expecting them to find what they were looking for, it was highly likely they’d find trouble.
"They'll be okay," a voice said behind him. He recognized it as Parker and turned quickly to look upon her with his own eyes.
"You know I don't like sending others to do the dirty work," he replied.
"What now?"
"Right now I only have two priorities. Scouting the system is something that is out of my hands, so I turn to the other. Filling the ranks of the Regiment. How is recruitment going?"
"Better, but far from great."
"How many recruits do you now have in training?"
"I accepted thirty-five, but seven dropped out in the first day. I'm wondering if we should even give them the choice of quitting."
"Yes, we must. If they aren't committed, then they aren't worth having. I will not have reluctant personnel in my Regiment. If you sign up with me, you're in till death or absolute victory."
"And if they don't believe the latter is an option?"
"Then we’d better ensure we have a good death."
"Is there such a thing?"
Taylor nodded. "Damn right there is, now, about this training. You're still in charge of recruitment, but seeing as I have nothing else of importance to do, I will be overseeing the process and getting involved at every stage. I want to know we are getting good people and that they have the best training. Show me how you're progressing with them.
"Mitch, their time is their own."
"No, they belong to us now. Until such time as they quit or flunk out, their time is ours to do with as we please. Let's go."
Parker led him towards the bunkroom where they were now living.
"All the recruits I've taken on so far are from the Detroit."
"The Detroit?"
"It's one of the transport barges. They've started calling them after the cities they came from. There was never more than a single barge in any city, so it sort of makes sense. I figured we'd try and take Americans first and foremost."
"Why?"
"Well, because..."
"Inter-Allied is not an American Regiment. God knows what we are. American? British? Lunar Colony? You can't even stop at human, as we aren't all that."
"Okay, how do you want me to proceed?"
"You take the best recruits you can find. I don't care what ship they come from. I don't care if they're men, women, black, or white. It doesn’t matter. You just make sure they're the best, you hear?"
"Okay."
"I'm not even sure our name Inter-Allied even means anything anymore. It was merely to symbolize the unity between two nations."
"Then go by our other name."
Taylor stopped and looked at her in surprise. "What do you mean?"
"The Immortals?"
Taylor thought about it for a moment.
"We're a mix of outfits from different nations, and it is your choice to make now. The name served us well, and there isn't a soul in this fleet that doesn't know the name."
"We are ultimately all marines now, by definition of what we do aboard this fleet. But I don't want to rob those other units of their heritage. Immortals it is."
"The Immortal Regiment? Parker asked, "Sounds good."
Taylor laughed. "Well, good, I wouldn't want us to sound anything unimportant."
They reached the quarters of the recruits. It was familiar, as it was the exact same layout and design as their own. He stopped in the doorway and turned to Parker.
"Everything we got," said Taylor, "it’s not exactly tough conditions to get them motivated."
"You're assuming that we lead a life of luxury," replied Parker.
"True."
"And it's not like I can have them out in the wilderness, slogging through the mud and sleeping in dugouts. If only."
"So we're gonna have to find new ways to toughen them up. What sort of backgrounds have they got?"
"I tried to focus on anyone with prior experience that might help. A few have been in the Corps. We’ve got ex-cops, private security, doormen, and gym instructors. Had to take what I could get."
One of the recruits closer to the door finally noticed them and called out.
"Attention on deck!"
Many of them almost jumped out of their skin and tried to get up and look presentable. Not one of them had a uniform. They wore their own civilian clothing.
"As you were!" Taylor yelled.
He didn't want to address them as a unit. He wanted to see them individually and to look into their eyes; see what kind of people they were. He passed down the line of beds slowly, looking at every single one of them, and studying every little detail. He looked at the photos of loved ones they had pinned to the beds and jewellery hanging from the hooks. It was clear to him from the clothing, they were from every social standing that could be thought of. But he didn't say a word to any of them, not until he reached a familiar face.
"Mia Moore," he said.
She was lying casually in her bed on top of the sheets, wearing nothing more than her underwear and a tight fitting black t-shirt. She looked provocative, and yet like she was ready to pounce and rip someone's throat out at a moment's notice.
"Not afraid one of these fine specimens will try and jump you with a look like that?" he asked her.
She gestured over to the bunk opposite. Taylor looked over to see a well-built man in his late twenties. He had a black eye and was nursing a damaged ego. Taylor laughed.
"What's your name, Son?"
"Adrian Hill, Sir."
"You learnt a valuable lesson here. Or at least, I hope you did."
"Yes, Sir?"
"Never underestimate your opponent. You saw a cute girl. What you didn't see was the lion inside that girl. Don't ever make such a dumb mistake again. In here, it cost you a black eye. In combat, it could cost you your life, but more important than that, the lives of your fellow marines."
"Yes, Sir," he said solemnly.
"And don't be ashamed. You feel your ego has been knocked because someone half your size did this to you? You gotta start thinking outside the box. If you thought she was no trouble because of her size, how will you feel when you face an alien twice your size?"
Taylor could see almost hear the cogs turning in the man's brain as he realized what Taylor w
as saying.
"Thank you, Sir."
Two days passed while Taylor oversaw their training. It was half way through the third day. The recruits carried dummy training rifles and were practicing gaining and giving ground, with obstacles setup through the gymnasium for them to navigate. His arms were crossed, and he watched from afar, as Parker made them practice the same drill for the twelfth time that day. She shouted at them every few seconds as they made mistakes, but he was glad to see their progress was at least respectable.
It felt just like old times, back on Earth and observing the grilling of a new set of hopefuls. The only difference being that an alien, Jafar, stood at his side. Then the last thing he ever would have expected happened. Admiral Huber came over the intercom on an open channel to the fleet.
"This is Admiral Huber speaking."
Everyone stopped what they were doing and listened.
"One hour ago, I received word from the frigate, the Valentine, one of the six vessels that departed almost three days ago to search out this system and discover our surroundings. Above all, their mission was to find a habitable planet that we might make our own, a planet where humanity may rebuild and start over. I am here to tell you that the crew of the Valentine has found that planet."
Taylor couldn't believe what he was hearing, and yet he looked across the room to see the others had heard just the same. First there was a stunned silence, and then the recruits began throwing their arms up in the air in joy, whistling and shouting in excitement. Parker looked to him with a new sense of hope, but he was not sold on the news at all. He turned to Jafar, who looked emotionless, as he often did.
"Did you know there was such a planet in this system?"
"I did not," he replied quickly, "but I know very little of this system. Is that not good news?"
"It might be. But it stinks. We've never found a habitable planet in all the years humanity has been in space."
"That is not very long, is it?"
"Well, no, but still. Don't you think it's just a little convenient that we lose our planet, jump to somewhere random, and bam, there's one here for us?"
"This was not a random choice."
"No, that's true, and that worries me even more."
Taylor was the only one not celebrating. He turned to leave.
"Jafar, on me!"
He stormed up to the bridge. Every crewmember he passed was beaming with excitement, and idle chitchat filled the corridors of the carrier, but he was not falling for it. He reached the bridge and found the same level of ecstasy. Huber was grinning from ear to ear.
"Colonel Taylor, your plan worked. None of us could have expected it quite so soon, but we've done it. We've found a new home!"
"What do we know about the planet? Are there any signs of life? Any sign of Krys presence?"
Huber backed off, looked at Taylor's stern expression, and finally laughed.
"Colonel Taylor. After all we have been through, this is a victory, and should be celebrated as such. Don't you know what this means?"
"No, not yet, none of us do."
He leaned in closer to the Admiral.
"Sir, I must recommend we proceed with the utmost caution. Every action we make risks the entire fleet. I would not have us gamble it all on this planet, without a thorough investigation first."
"Yes, yes of course. We aren't putting down there with everything we have. I am arranging an expeditionary force, as well as a team of scientists and experts to head there right away and assess the situation."
"If I may, Sir? If boots are going on the ground, then I should be among them, and so should Jafar. Beyond the science, we are your best bet at making sure the place is safe."
Huber's face turned more serious.
"I have no doubt you are, Colonel, but your job is to maintain the safety and security of this vessel, and therefore this fleet."
"I am attempting to do that, Sir."
"Damn you, Taylor, enough of this nonsense. This is a time to celebrate, and I have plenty of work for you yet. The number of casualties three days ago was completely unacceptable. Your job is to investigate why it went wrong and find solutions so that it does not happen again."
"Sir, I must protest."
"No, you most certainly must not. You're a good man and a damn fine officer, Taylor, but right now I don't need your cynical outlook. I need your expertise where it is needed most. I want you working closely with Reiter and his team to workout whatever you need to handle those Juggernauts, as you call them. God forbid we ever have to face them again."
We? It wasn't you who had to face them.
But he didn't dare say it out loud.
"You are dismissed, Taylor. And Colonel? Try to look on the bright side. A little history is being made here."
Taylor turned and left.
"That's what worries me," he whispered to himself.
The jubilation of every soul aboard the ship was intoxicating. He wondered if he was the only one among them who saw the potential danger they were in.
"What do we do?" Jafar asked.
Taylor wasn't sure whether he meant figuratively or literally, but it didn't matter.
"What we've been ordered to."
Chapter 11
Taylor stood before the armoured suit of a Juggernaut. It was suspended from a hoist normally used for the engines of aircraft. A pool of blood lay on the deck beneath it, expanding as the thick blue substance still dripped from the armour. It was clear the creature’s corpse was still inside. He couldn’t help but just stand and stare at it. He’d never gotten the opportunity to actually look at the details.
In combat, all Taylor saw was a figure as he focused on the centre body mass and used peripheral vision. To him the Juggernaut was just a larger Mech suit. But now up close, he could see it was something quite different. Its leg joints were set differently, and there appeared to be no power source for the suit like the normal Mech models.
“What is it?” he asked Jafar who stood beside him.
“I believe it is a Boga.”
“A what?”
“A primitive creature. Much like your apes are to humans. They share some genetic material and evolutionary path with my kind, but they are crude and simple.”
“But big and strong.”
“Yes, far stronger than we are, but they are wild animals.”
“Don’t look wild to me. They are armoured and came at us in a determined fashion. How do you explain that?”
“I cannot.”
“Modules attached to the brain,” Reiter said, walking past behind them.
He stopped between the two of them and looked at the armour with the same fascination Taylor had been doing.
“Yes, the creature itself is a rather primitive beast, but clad in this armour and with a simple control algorithm.”
“What algorithm?”
“Very simple really. The Mech armours transmit identification for friendly forces through sound. These Juggernauts are programmed to attack and kill any living creature that does not emit their code, and is punished by electric shocks if they step within a metre of one who does.”
“So they’re little more than a crazed beast they let loose to raise hell?”
“As you like,” replied Reiter.
Taylor moved along to the next creature suspended from another crane. Its arm was severed and hanging from a chain beside it. He could see it was the one he and Jafar had taken down together.
“They are formidable things, these Boga, or whatever they are. In open ground, where we could bring heavier weapons to bear, they wouldn’t be so much an issue. But aboard these ships in the corridors and confines, they’re like bulls in a china shop, and we’re the china.”
He turned and looked at Reiter.
“What answer have you got to this problem? How can we take them down?”
Reiter shook his head. “I am not sure yet. I need your ideas. You have fought them.”
“Yes, we have, and we paid for it dear
ly.”
“I am working on ideas, Colonel, but you are the soldier, not I.”
“Marine.”
“Yes, that, too.”
Taylor looked back to the creatures.
“Their armour? It’s far thicker than anything we have had to deal with. The Reitech ammo barely touches it.”
“It is nothing technologically impressive. It is the same armour the soldiers wear, but three times the thickness. They are like walking armoured vehicles.”
“Then maybe that is the answer. Stop treating them like infantry, and start treating them like tanks. Maybe it is that simple. Their armour is three times thicker. Fine, we just need weapons that pack three times the punch?”
“Easier said than done, Colonel. Those weapons are already formidable pieces of hardware. If I were to increase the calibre and power of the ammunition used, the equivalent weapon would be so large you would likely not even be able to lift it. They would in fact be just like some of the Reitech vehicular mounted devices.”
“That sounds good.”
“You don’t understand me, Colonel. The weapons I developed far outweigh anything used in the past. The rifles you carry today are of an equivalent weight to heavy machine guns of by gone years. They are…come with me.”
He led them around some containers to an armaments rack for the fighter and support craft of the Washington. He pointed at a gun that was two metres long, and resembled little more than a thick pipe with a box receiver and feed for ammunition.
“That is the kind of weapon you speak of. Lift it.”
Taylor looked at him as if he were a fool.
“Go on, try and lift it. With your suit on,” he said, pointing to a rack of the exo-skeletons opposite.
He climbed into the suit and then confidently walked up to the rack of weaponry. Never before had he struggled with strength in his suit, so he did not doubt its abilities.
“The Reitech 50CMG, commonly fitted with coaxial weapons on main battle tanks and as close support and ground attack craft. A marvel, I might add. Now try and lift it,” said Reiter.
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