Battle Beyond Earth: Resurrection

by Nick S. Thomas

  But worst of all for him was to see the faces of the crew. They were fresh and naive. A world apart from the war weary men and women he used to see every day. It wasn't that he wished it on these people; just that he knew their world was about to be rocked.

  "This is the ship you went to Kepler-186 on, right?" Taylor asked Jones.

  "For the second time, yes. The first vessel is still undergoing extensive repairs."

  "So the crew here have some combat experience?"

  Jones shook his head.

  "No, Sir. All wounded were removed to undergo recovery and recuperation. Most of the rest were put on leave to get over the tragedy they experienced. They were traumatised."

  Taylor was already shaking his head in disbelief.

  "So you threw away any combat experience we had and started from fresh?"

  "That is the way the Navy operates. Each vessel had a minimum of two full crews working on rotation. It means everyone gets enough time of their own with their families, or wherever they want to be."

  "That's great when there's no war to fight."

  They stopped at an entrance to the accommodation that had been provided for them. It was a narrow corridor with a door every two metres. In each door was the tiniest of rooms, just large enough for a single adult to stand up or sleep on the bed that took up almost the entirety of the space.

  "Luxury," Taylor stated.

  "Everybody has the same space here, Colonel. From the mechanics to myself, even Commander Cohen."

  Taylor sighed. He could see no one else aboard the vessel was eager to make him welcome, so he walked into the nearest room and hit the door switch behind him. He went to the corner by the bedside and powered down his suit, stepped out, and slumped down on the bed.

  He could think of nothing now but Eli. The love of his life, and it occurred to him that he didn't even have a picture of her. He tapped the info icon in the pad on his forearm that was built into his suit.

  "What can I do for you, Colonel?" asked the pre-programmed female voice of the machine.

  "Find a photo for me. Sergeant Eleanor Parker. USMC, and Inter-Allied Regiment."

  To his surprise a photo was suddenly projected before him. It was the photo from her base ID. He remembered it well. It was taken long before the first alien invasion began. He clicked to save it to memory. Next he turned his attention to the only other connection he could think of to the ones he loved. He brought up the messages from Coco and hit play before laying back to trying to forget the world until he could get to sleep.

  * * *

  Taylor woke abruptly as he dreamed of his fight with Erdogan. He felt the sharp impact of the enemy Lord's blade drive through his torso, and it almost felt real. He shot up out of bed and was dripping in sweat. But as he got to his feet, he realised all was okay. He hit the door release and stepped out of the painfully claustrophobic room that was more akin to cell. Taylor couldn't help but feel he had entered a life that had been cleansed and sanitised of all he knew and liked. He turned back, pulled on his combat uniform, and strode out looking for something to occupy his mind.

  He wandered through the ship without recognising a single member aboard, and likewise he was invisible to them. He thought back to the fame he had achieved at the height of the wars. He smiled to himself as he thought of how oblivious they all were to who he was. Forgoing fame and all the attention that came with it was the first and only thing he liked about this new life. He never wanted fame, only to win.

  He reached a huge wall of glass and could see dozens of the crew training with gym equipment inside. Some appeared to be practicing martial arts. On the far side of the room he spotted Jones. The Lieutenant was working through a form of solo drill or kata. His movements were impeccable, like a dancer. It made Taylor laugh to think of the rough brawler nature of Charlie Jones, the Lieutenant's ancestor.

  Taylor could not help but step up to the automatic sliding door and enter. Everyone inside wore navy blue tight fitting shorts and t-shirts. They looked more like professional athletes training for sport than fighting men and women. He stood out in stark contrast to them all in his fatigues and combat boots. A few stared at him, and it was clear he was expected to dress as they were, but he didn't care. He stopped two metres short of Jones and watched him as he continued through his solo drill.

  Jones weaved back and forth through a series of kicks and punches. He rotated and spun in a balletic fashion. Taylor was both impressed and appalled all at once, but it made him smile also.

  "I thought you didn't ever need to fight with your own hands?" Taylor asked him.

  Jones did not stop but answered as he continued to flow.

  "We learn to control our bodies for our own quality of life, and to better ourselves as Human beings. We have no need of fist fights in this age."

  As Jones went into a spin to begin three hundred and sixty degree kick, Taylor paced confidently forward and swung a punch that landed squarely on the Lieutenant's jaw. It sent him tumbling to the gym floor. He landed hard. To his surprise he put a finger to his mouth and realised blood was dripping from his cut gums. Everyone in the gym froze and watched in amazement and horror at Taylor's brutality, but none of them could lift a finger to do anything.

  Jones was still in shock for a moment as the pain surged through his face, and he looked up to see Taylor looming over him in an ominous and unapologetic fashion.

  "You don't think you need to fight with your hands, anymore? So what do you do when the other guy feels like giving it a shot?"

  He looked up at the audience he had drawn and raised his voice for all to hear.

  "Hey? What do you do? Do you run and hide? Lie down and die? It's time you all understood what it is we do. This isn't a pleasure cruise. You aren't here for fun. When someone or something comes to kill you, and you ain't got nothing left but your own two hands, you better know how to and be willing to use them. You don't hold back, you don't pussy out, and you don't tell me we don't need that! Fight, with everything you've got!"

  His words cut into Jones who was now burning with anger, and that is just what Taylor wanted. The Lieutenant swept a kick for his leg while still on the floor, but Taylor just moved his lead leg back and gave ground. Jones rolled onto his feet and now stood before Taylor in a fighting stance.

  "Finally found your balls?" Taylor asked. It almost sounded like a sneer.

  "I've been training my entire life; where have you been all that time? On ice! You're old, weak. Nothing more than a brawler."

  "At last, your true colours. You're going to eat those words soon enough."

  Jones’ face was going red with rage now, and he went forward with a quick kick towards Taylor's head. He was surprised by the speed and narrowly avoided the kick, but Jones spun into a second and clipped Taylor in the face. The impact snapped his head to the side slightly, and even Jones stopped in shock, but it didn't come close to shaking Taylor. He grabbed the stunned Jones by the throat and smashed an elbow into his face. Blood burst from the Lieutenant's nose as he stumbled back.

  But Taylor did not stop there. He went forward in an unrelenting manner. Jones could see he had to fight for his life now. He snapped a quick jab forward that only served to slow Taylor by a fraction of a second. He tried a powerful turn kick to his stomach, but the Colonel caught the leg, and Jones was locked. He tried to get free but Taylor held him with a vice-like grip, and with one big punch into Jones' face he was smashed to the ground. He writhed in pain for a moment and came close to unconsciousness, but as he opened his eyes, Taylor stood over him and offered out his hand. Jones was initially suspicious.

  "Don't mistake my lessons for a desire to hurt you. All I want is for you to have the best fighting chance when it counts, and I need to know I can rely on you. Can I?"

  Jones nodded slowly, accepted Taylor's hand, and was hauled to his feet.

  "You know your ancestor, Charlie Jones. He gave his life to save us all, and I would do the same for you. Will you place that sa
me faith in me?"

  Jones was astonished, but agreed. He was in awe of how Taylor had handled the situation. He realised now that he had judged the situation entirely wrong. He opened his mouth and began to say sorry, but Taylor interrupted.

  "No, none of that. We're comrades, not lovers. Now get that nose fixed up."

  He smiled back at Taylor, and his teeth were red with blood. Taylor knew he had finally made a friend, and that he needed such an ally by his side. But as Jones turned to leave, an announcement came over an open channel in the room.

  "All crew report to your stations."

  "This it?" Jones asked.

  "We have to be close now. Have the unit gear up, full kit. Be ready for anything."

  * * *

  Taylor strode onto the bridge in his new armour. Many of the crew looked at him as if he were some kind of monster.

  "Colonel Taylor, please remember that you are here in an advisory role only. Our Marine contingent will handle any necessary tasks that may present themselves," said Commander Cohen.

  Taylor had never met the woman, but he could already see he was getting the cold shoulder. He thought about responding sarcastically but knew it was a waste of time.

  "How far out are we?"

  "We are about to rendezvous with the Cholan grand fleet. From there will proceed to the last known location of the enemy."

  "The screens in front suddenly zoomed forward to the Cholan ships in the distance. The vessels looked ungainly. The bows appeared bulbous, the engines too small to propel their substantial size. The fleet comprised of more than fifty warships, including twenty as large as the Guam, and a capitol ship five times her size. The vessel lay in the centre of the formation as a symbol of power, but to Taylor it just looked like a big juicy target.

  "For small people they sure do build big ships, compensating for something there, you think?" Taylor asked with a smile, but none of the bridge crew appreciated it. Cohen scowled at him.

  "The Cholans are our allies, and you would be wise to respect that fact."

  "They're your allies. They are no friends of mine yet. I'll be the judge of that."

  Many of the crew were startled at how Taylor talked to the Commander, and yet nobody would call him out on it.

  "Sir, I am getting energy signature anomalies," said the one of the officers from their station.

  Jones stepped up beside Taylor as the Commander responded.

  "Where are they originating, and can you confirm they are a match?"

  "That's the Nakbe. They say it is the most powerful ship in existence, even beyond Aranui technology," Jones said, pointing to the huge Cholan vessel.

  "We can only hope," replied Taylor.

  There was a brief silence as they were fixated on the scene before them. Several areas of empty space beside the Cholan fleet began to distort and glimmer, and Jones knew exactly what they were looking at.

  "Ambush!" he yelled.

  But even before anyone could say a word, the first shots burst out from three enemy vessels that appeared as if out of thin air. They were each the same vast mandible equipped ship.

  "No..." said Jones in disbelief.

  Taylor had no idea what he was looking at, but he could already see the power of what they were facing, just as Jones had experienced it. A beam of light burst out from each of the enemy vessels and obliterated two Cholan vessels in a single volley.

  "One ship, there was only one before!"

  "Shit happens," Taylor said quietly.

  "Shield's up!" Cohen ordered, "Launch fighters!"

  The familiar voice of Sarik came over the comms.

  "All ships, engage the enemy," he ordered.

  Nice subtle tactics, thought Taylor.

  He watched the Cholan vessels open fire at their attackers. Missiles fired out from most of their vessels in huge salvos, and the Capitol ship was banking as if trying to bring some frontal weapon to bear.

  "I hate this bit," Taylor said quietly to Jones, as the bridge erupted into a hive of activity.

  "I thought you lived to fight?"

  "This isn't fighting, not for us. We must just watch and wait."

  "You know I never signed up expecting I'd have to fight anyone."

  Taylor turned and saw the fear in the Lieutenant's eyes. He remembered that feeling. He remembered how gut wrenchingly horrible it was.

  "Just keep breathing," said Taylor sympathetically.

  He turned back to the battle to see that it was a full on brawl now. It looked like a bizarre version of nineteenth century tall ships duking it out with one another. The enemy battleship-like vessels had now been joined by twelve vessels one-third their size. They resembled a legless scorpion in shape and looked as ugly as they did ominous. Their pincer-like structures lit up with rapid fire pulse weapons that smashed into the Cholan fleet.

  "In range in thirty seconds!" Captain Nichols shouted.

  The Aranui vessels opened fire a second later. All of their beam weapons were focussed on one of the smaller enemy escort vessels. With their combined fire, they punched holes through the hull in two places, and yet still the ship continued to fire on the Cholans.

  "Target the nearest vessel and open fire when ready!" Cohen ordered.

  Just a few seconds later every weapon on the ship opened fire, and they could see the fighters closing in under their firing solution. Enemy fighters began pouring out from the large vessels to counter them. Another three Cholan vessels were blown apart before their eyes.

  "How did you ever survive battles like this?" Jones asked.

  Taylor shrugged.

  "Half luck."

  The Nakbe had a direct line up to one of the enemy capitol ships. The entire vessel seemed to glow neon green and finally burst with light as a massive beam burst out from its front. It must have been fifty metres wide and was almost blindingly bright. The beam of green energy struck one of the Morohta capitol ships head on and burrowed deep into the hull. Two of the mandible-like structures were blown off and holes erupted all over the right flank of the vessel.

  Suddenly, the beam of light vanished, and they could see fires burning bright within the enemy ship. Without hesitation, the Commander pointed to the same vessel and shouted, "Target all weapons on that ship and bring her down!"

  All fire focused on the crippled enemy vessel. Two-dozen other ships joined in to smash the enemy vessel for good. After almost a minute of bombardment, the engines failed and all lighting went out inside the crippled hulk. But even as cheers rang out on the bridge, they could see both of the other Morohta battleships turn on the Nakbe. The first pulse ripped into the hull, but one of the Cholan frigates blocked the path to the Nakbe for the second and took it full on. As the ship was blown apart, the rest of the Cholan fleet surged forward and closed the distance to create a wall between the Nakbe and the enemy battleships.

  "We need to get in on this fight," Taylor said to Jones.

  They were closing on the flank of the Cholan fleet now. They could barely see the enemy ships from the wall of gunfire and missiles that lit up the space between them, and Sarik's voice rung out once again to the fleet.

  "We must protect the Nakbe. Do not let her fall!" he growled.

  "How long does it take for that thing to reload, Jones?"

  "I'm no expert on Cholan tech."

  "Come on, you bored me with facts when you got here, what do you know?"

  "They have often joked that it was such an immensely powerful weapon that it requires ten minutes to recharge, but it would never need to, because nothing would survive a single shot."

  "Yeah, well I guess no one told these alien motherfuckers that."

  The Nakbe was safe for a moment, but as Taylor looked back to the screen, he could see waves of Morohta small craft heading for the Cholan fleet. They were larger than the fighters that were already committed to the battle, and beside them were the torpedo-like breaching robots that Jones was all too familiar with.

  "They're going to breach her!" J
ones shouted.

  "Target those craft. Do not let them get through!" Cohen yelled.

  The close range rapid fire weapons of the Guam opened up in a massive salvo, but to their horror many of the shots glanced off the enemy craft. Three were blown apart out of dozens. They continued to fire, but it was clear to all that there was no stopping them.

  "Get me in there!"

  "We haven't got time for your heroics, Colonel. Stay put and let the fleet handle this," ordered Cohen.

  They watched as many of the craft came to an abrupt halt and latched onto the hull of the Nakbe while the breaching robots passed right though just as Jones had experienced.

  "Can they hold off?"

  The Lieutenant shook his head.

  "Cholans have some big guns, but they have no chance in close proximity. They don't even have the equipment for it."

  "Then come with me, Lieutenant," said Taylor as he turned and strode for the door.

  "I gave you an order!" Cohen hollered.

  Taylor stopped for just a second and looked back at the Commander.

  "I don't answer to you. Fight your battle, Commander, and I will fight mine."

  Cohen looked to others aboard the bridge to stop him, but nobody would dare. Taylor quickly turned and rushed out at a jogging pace.

  "What's the quickest way we can get there?"

  "A Sky King could have us there in less than a minute, but without really any protection or weaponry."

  "Then get us one, now!"

  Taylor raised his hand to speak on his comms as he ran. They reached the landing bays in under a minute, and the team was already assembled, but they looked terrified. Taylor did not break stride.

  "On board, now!"

  The Sky King had a long fuselage and bulbous cockpit at the front. The four engines looks unusually large and out of proportion for the size of craft. Taylor had never been keen on speed over armour, but needs must. They jumped aboard and found a solitary female pilot at the controls with no co-pilot.