Battle Beyond Earth: Revenge

by Thomas, Nick S.

  They dropped down onto one knee and looked around for any sign of what was to come. Eight ships soared into view, but they were not fighters. They were transports.

  “You’ve gone and done it!”

  “Come on, Jones, get inside!” Taylor yelled.

  He stood up and made a dash for the Newman Building. Gunfire strafed their position, but it was inaccurate and couldn’t track them fast enough. Taylor fired several shots at the main glass door as he approached. They punched right through the reinforced glass but it stayed in one piece. Cracks split around the holes, and he took a run into the weakened area.

  The glass caved in, and Taylor rolled into the building, the glass shattering all around him. As he came to a halt, he felt someone hauling him back up. It was Babacan. He hoisted him onto his feet in one quick tug, and they were once again running to the cover of the lobby. They leapt over a large wall as the rest of the platoon spread out to find cover. Jones jumped in beside him. Everyone fell silent as they tried to get their bearings.

  “I’m sensing this wasn’t the best of missions to take,” said Taylor.

  “You don’t say,” replied Jones, as he stood up and fired a few shots as the first Morohtan warrior appeared in the entrance. Taylor joined him, and they opened up on the creature, killing him before he could even get through the broken doorway. Another two followed it and were struck down as easily, but no more came.

  There was a hive of activity outside, but nobody or nothing came close to the building. There was silence inside the Newman Building as they waited for some sign of the enemy, but when nothing came, Jones looked to Taylor with suspicion.

  “What the hell are they doing?”

  Taylor shrugged. “I wish I knew.”

  He looked around the room. It looked unaffected by the fighting.

  “You think Phillips is still here?”

  “He better be, or this is all for nothing. Stay put and hold this position.”

  “Where are you going?”

  “To get what we came for! Babacan, Bailey, on me!”

  They rushed to his side as Taylor looked back to Jones one last time.

  “If it all goes to shit, you withdraw to the roof and get evaced out, you hear?”

  Jones didn’t look willing to accept that order.

  “We’ll get out of here when you do.”

  There would be no arguing with him, so he hurried through the lobby and on to the next room with the two comrades at his back. As they entered the hallway behind the lobby, they found a trail of blood, human blood.

  “This doesn’t look good,” said Bailey.

  Taylor said nothing. He had to hold on to the hope that they may yet succeed. They followed the trail of blood around a corner where they found the lifeless body of a man in a suit leaning against the wall. There was a gaping hole in his chest and a handgun still locked in his right hand. Bailey knelt down beside him.

  “He’s wearing armour. Little good it did him, though.”

  She pulled back his cuff and found a tattoo on his forearm.

  “He’s a Ranger.”

  “This stinks.”

  “What do we do, Colonel?”

  “Find Phillips, while we still can. Come on, keep going.”

  He followed the map on his Mappad and finally reached the hidden door where he expected to input in a code to get in, but the secret doorway was open, and two more men lay dead in the entrance. The opening led to a flight of stairs deep below the structure. The next doorway was ajar, and lights flickered inside.

  “Oh, God,” said Bailey at the sight of the bodies.

  They had no choice but to keep going forward, although it was the last place Taylor wanted to be. He was starting to understand Jones’ aversion to being underground. It made him sick to have to take a step forward, but he had to go. His heart pounded in his chest as the pressure began to mount. He felt his feet stick to the floor, and his legs go stiff as if his entire body wanted to stay put.

  “You okay, Colonel?”

  “I’m fine.”

  He knew he wasn’t, and so did she. He knew now that they shouldn’t have come.

  “I’m a fool, why didn’t I see this coming?”

  “You couldn’t have known, and you still don’t. The General might still be alive down there.”

  “Really?”

  “Really, come on. We’ve come this far.”

  “Let’s get this done,” Babacan said gruffly.

  Chapter 10

  Jones slammed in a magazine hurriedly but fumbled, and it dropped. He looked up from the cover of the wall. A bipedal Morohtan warrior was rushing towards him. Several shots hit the wall and forced him to duck back down. He pulled out his pistol and rose up once again, firing repeatedly at the enemy advancing on him. He hit it six times in the centre body mass, but it leapt over the defences and landed on him. As he crashed to the ground, he kept firing at point blank range. He quickly held the gun to the side of the creature’s head and put three shots into the side of its skull. He threw the body off in disgust.

  He climbed back to his feet and reloaded his rifle. At the rear of the building Lorenzo was patching one of them up as the rest kept up the fight.

  "If they want to kill us so bad, why don't they just flatten the building?" Nile asked.

  "They must want whoever is in here alive!" he responded.

  "I sure hope Taylor gets a shift on."

  Jones agreed with that sentiment, but his mind then turned to how they might get out of there. They couldn't do it on foot, and the roof would be a dangerous place to be.

  "How is anyone gonna be able to land and evac us from here now?"

  Nile had read Jones' mind.

  "You leave that to me. First things first, let's make sure we survive long enough to worry about it."

  He got up and joined back in the fight. The enemy was coming at them in sizeable numbers, but not as many as he would have expected. There were none of the primitive savages that so often did Bolormaa's dirty work. There were just Morohtan warriors and drones. It struck him as odd, and he tried to work it out in his head, simultaneously taking aim and laying down as much fire as he could.

  Clearly, this is important to them. They must want Phillips as much as we do, but why alive?

  * * *

  Taylor crept down each step. His legs were a little shaky, and he didn't want to go any further. His gut told him to stop, and he was really starting to feel the sort of anxiety that Jones had exhibited, but he didn't know why, and then it struck him. Nobody knew they were even there, except for Greer. No one was coming to their aid, and it was no secret to keep from the enemy anymore. He stopped, as if he had found an excuse or reason not to have to go on, but he lifted his Mappad and put in a direct call to the Indy. It was answered in seconds.

  "Colonel, where the hell are you?" Fortier asked.

  "We're at the Newman Building, north of New York, and we're under heavy fire."

  "Newman Building?" he asked for confirmation.

  "Yes, Captain."

  There was silence as he looked over a map for a moment, and then his eyes widened.

  "That is a long way from your last coordinates. Has the Regiment advanced that quickly?"

  "No. Just a single platoon is with me, and we're up to our necks in it."

  "What are you even doing there?"

  "That doesn't matter right now, but we need a little help. We need artillery barrages all around the building. You can land them anywhere but on the Newman Building itself."

  "We’re on it, but how do you intend to get out of the area?"

  "I can do it!" Alita shouted in the background.

  "Negative," replied Taylor, "The area is crawling with hostiles. Any attempt to land in this vicinity would be suicidal. Lay down the cover that we need and await further instructions."

  Fortier opening his mouth to speak, but Taylor had no time for it.

  "Taylor out."

  He looked to the other two as if to as
k if they were ready. They looked more confident and relaxed than he did.

  "All right, let's get this done."

  He lifted his rifle and carried on to the door. Lights flickered inside. There was glass scattered across the floor and another body.

  "I definitely don't like the look of this."

  "It looks like someone got here ahead of us," said Bailey.

  They felt a vibration through the ground as the first bombardment landed around the building. It was a relief to finally feel and hear their own guns.

  "That should buy us a little time," added Taylor.

  There was a huge elevator in front of them with the door open. It appeared to be the only way to go, as the corridor was a dead end. There was a pool of blood close to one of the walls and a trail leading out of it.

  "What do we do?"

  "If there is any chance that the General is still alive, we have to go on," said Taylor, and he stepped inside the elevator.

  The other two followed him. He’d found a key still in place for operating it. He watched the thick steel doors slam shut, and they began to descend into the depths of the bunker. They quickly picked up pace and must have gone fifty metres below the surface before slowing to a cushioned stop, and the doors opened. They all had their weapons held high as if expecting a fight, but there was no sign of life.

  Lights still lit up the foyer, but there was no evidence of a struggle.

  "So far so good," whispered Taylor.

  They felt a light tremor through the ground as the Indy continued the bombardment above, but it was far fainter than they had felt before. Taylor led the way. It was a large complex intended to provide shelter for thousands, but it seemed to be empty. They soon took a bend to find a large armoured pair of doors that were drawn open. He stopped instantly, shocked at what a bloodbath it was. There were at least fifteen bodies in sight. Many of them had weapons in hand or close to where they had fallen.

  "It's a massacre," said Bailey in horror.

  Taylor had to force himself to go forward. He still kept his rifle at the ready and paced in between the bodies to the far end of the room. He reached a table that took up much of the room. Lying next to it in a pool of blood was the body of a man in a general's uniform. He knelt down to take a closer look.

  "Is it him, is it General Phillips?" Bailey asked.

  Taylor tilted the man's head around. A large calibre bullet had gone through his forehead, but he could still identify him from the pictures he had seen.

  "Yes, it is," Taylor said in a sombre tone.

  "It is no accident that we are here and he is dead," said Babacan.

  Jones!

  Taylor shot up and rushed for the door.

  "We thought we were so smart coming here to get Phillips, but it wasn't our idea. It was theirs," he said, heading towards the elevator.

  He twisted the key to take them back to the surface.

  "This was a trap?"

  Taylor nodded in response, and Bailey saw the fear in his eyes. The doors opened, and they ran out to the sound of gunfire raging nearby. They soon found two of their own wounded, and Lorenzo dragging a third up beside them.

  "We can't keep this up," said Lorenzo as Taylor stormed past.

  He peered around into the lobby. Jones was throwing grenades at close range; desperately trying to hold back the enemy advances. He reached the Captain and slid along the floor, crashing into the wall.

  "Did you find Phillips?" Jones shouted.

  "Yeah, we did."

  "That's good, right?"

  "No it isn’t. He was dead, and everyone who was with him. They have been dead for some time."

  A look of dread overcame Jones as it dawned on him, the same realisation that Taylor had come to.

  "They got us right where they wanted us, didn't they?"

  Taylor nodded.

  "It's not Phillips they wanted alive, it's us, isn’t it?"

  "I just don't know what to say. I should have seen this coming."

  "How could you? We were given solid intel, and we acted upon it."

  "How could I be so stupid?"

  "You couldn't have known."

  Taylor tried to play it out in his head, desperate to find some solution, but for now the only option was to join the fight. He rose up and chose his first target, a drone. A burst from his rifle knocked it out, and he turned to the next. Muscle memory and his training kicked in, and he fought like a demon.

  * * *

  "What the hell is going on down there, Captain?" Alita asked.

  "The enemy must know there is a high value target in that building, and they want it bad."

  She watched ship after ship land to pour new troops into the fight. The bombardment continued to thin their numbers as the parks around the building were reduced to rubble and bodies, but still they attacked.

  "We have to help them. One platoon can't hold against that. That is the finest group of fighting men and women in the Alliance, but they can't achieve the impossible."

  Fortier was silent as he watched.

  "Captain! What are we going to do?" she screamed.

  He was just shaking his head in disbelief.

  "What can we do? We have no reserve. Every marine and soldier who can be spared is already engaged in combat. If something is to be done, it’ll have to be by those forces already committed."

  Caron was on the bridge, too, and looked sympathetic to her cause, but didn't know what she could offer to help.

  Alita grunted and stormed off towards the door.

  "What are you doing, Lieutenant?"

  "Whatever I can, Captain," she snapped back at him.

  He turned to confront her, but Caron stepped in between them.

  "Whatever she has to do, you’d better let her, Captain."

  "I must ask you to step aside. You may soon be our President, but you are not yet, and this is now my ship and my command."

  Alita had stopped for a moment to see how it unfolded. She knew she wouldn't get far without the Captain's agreement.

  "That's right," began Caron, "I am not your President yet, but I will be, and I expect your loyalty. Colonel Taylor and his people risked everything to save my life, and I trust them. I know them. I don't know you yet. Lieutenant Hariz is acting on my orders as Acting President, and I advise you to not get in her way."

  The Captain sighed and gestured towards Alita, as if to say she could do whatever she wanted.

  "Fine, it won't matter, anyway. There is nothing you can do."

  Caron looked to Alita with a smile. She nodded in appreciation and left the bridge. She began to weep at what she might lose, and couldn’t afford to. She keeled over and fell against a bulkhead as she felt the pain in her stomach. She was livid, but she wiped the tears and tried to pull herself together.

  “Come on, get yourself together, you idiot,” she muttered to herself.

  She smacked her forehead, trying to think of what to do next. Taylor was depending on her, and now it came down to her to find the answers.

  “How do you always make it sound so easy, Colonel Mitch Taylor?”

  * * *

  “We can’t stay here!” Jones yelled.

  The room was lit up with gunfire as explosions rang out all around. The rest of them were keeping up the fight, but they both knew the ammunition wouldn’t hold out forever. Taylor looked around for some answer to present itself. He looked to the stairs and then back. Lorenzo was hauling back another wounded woman.

  "Shit," he said to himself.

  He looked to the stairway across from him and considered going for the roof, but he didn't know how they were going to manage it now. There was only one way to go, as he looked back to where Lorenzo had vanished into the next room.

  "You're not thinking what I think you're thinking?"

  "Jones, we can't go up. They'll come in from the rooftop, and we'll be fighting on all fronts, but we can go down."

  Jones didn't look at all impressed with that idea.

&nbs
p; "Down there is a reinforced bunker that cannot be hit from the air. It has only one way in. There’s likely to be weapon and ammo caches, too."

  "Yes, and only one way out, too. We go down there, and we are jumping into our own grave. It'll only work if someone is coming to bail us out, and nobody is coming!"

  Taylor shrugged, and Jones understood that as bad as an option as it was, they didn't have another.

  "Come on, while we still can. Everyone fall back!" he ordered.

  He put in a direct transmission to the Indy without waiting for a response.

  "This is Taylor. We are under heavy assault and have sustained a number of casualties. We are withdrawing below the surface. There is no way out. I repeat, no way out. Urgent assistance is requested."

  He didn't wait for a reply. He reached for Jones and hauled him up onto his feet. They lay down fire as they ran. Bodies lined the floor, and yet there seemed a never-ending horde assaulting the building. Taylor felt one shot strike his armour. It bounced off, but it jolted him hard and twisted his body. He kept running to keep his balance and felt another shot hit the back of his armour as he reached the next room. The wounded were being carried by several of the platoon as everyone followed Bailey.

  "We're gonna regret this!" Jones called out.

  He looked back. The first enemy drone stepped through into the room. He and Taylor paused and fired a few shots. Taylor primed and threw a grenade. They both turned and ran onwards. The explosion ripped through the room as they were running down the stairs and making the last dash for the elevator. Eight were wounded, three unable to walk without help. They slid into the elevator, and Taylor gave Bailey the nod to turn the key. It was a tight squeeze getting them all in and almost on the limit of what they could manage.

  "Come on," whispered Jones.

  The doors began to slide shut as the first of the enemy stepped into view. Four laid down supressing fire, and a few shots hit the doors, but they sealed shut and the elevator began to descend. Taylor was relieved, but Jones didn't look so pleased.