Table of Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Battle Earth VII
By Nick S. Thomas
Copyright © 2013 by Nick S. Thomas
Published by Swordworks Books
All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
Prologue
The war to survive had been won, for humanity to continue existing. The World must now find a way to live with one another in a newfound peace.
Ridding the planet of the alien invaders had been the aim of every human being since the first shot was fired, but it had not happened. Prisoner of War camps across the World were filled with alien combatants who had been trapped on Earth.
Demiran had been defeated by Mitch Taylor’s own hand, a definitive stroke that made all who saw or heard of it believe the nightmare of alien contact was over; but not for Taylor. With no war to fight, his superiors found new ways to exploit his name and fame.
'What to do with the alien prisoners of war?' was the question on many minds, but even as they thought it, a new threat was looming. A threat that Taylor had only begun to get an insight to and the only one among them that understood, lay in a coma. The danger no longer came from the enemy at their gates, but the enemy within.
Chapter 1
Tsengal lay still on the hospital bed where he had been for the last four years. His heart was still beating, but there was little other sign of life. Taylor visited him whenever he could. He wondered like they all did what memories lay in the alien’s head.
Does he dream of Chandra's death? he asked himself.
He certainly did and he wasn't even there. He could still only speculate as to Chandra's fate, but it seemed all but certain she was dead. And yet, mystery surrounded Tsengal's return, and what he’d tried to tell them before he passed over to unconsciousness.
"You won't make him wake by hoping for it."
Taylor turned and saw Jafar a few steps behind him.
"Will he ever wake up?"
"I have said this many times. He'd have been finished off. Years of this 'coma' as you call it would be considered a waste where we came from. But I have told you this countless times."
"I know, but he needs to wake up."
Jafar nodded in agreement.
"We have to get to work."
Taylor turned, accepting there was nothing else for it. Two guards stood on duty at the entrance to the room, both wore the insignia of the 2nd Inter-Allied. Taylor didn't trust anyone else with the security of their comrade.
"What time are we due on stage?" he asked Jafar.
"1300 hours."
Taylor groaned.
"This is really getting old."
"At least you don't have to wear the Mech suit."
He smiled in response. Jafar had taken on some of Jones' sarcasm that he so missed since the Captain's retirement. They stepped out and saw the face of a man who was quickly becoming Taylor's most annoying acquaintance.
"Come on, Mitch, we've got work to do. You've gotta be on stage in a half hour. Chop, chop!"
Taylor stopped in his tracks and glared at the man. He wore a perfectly cut and pressed suit. He'd never served in the military, and while Mitch had never cared to ask, he would bet his right arm he sat out the war in a comfy house somewhere far from the apocalyptic carnage they had all witnessed. That was Richard Weaver, his government appointed press and liaison officer.
"Look...Dick," he took a little pleasure in seeing the man's face tighten with scorn at the nickname. "I couldn't give a rat’s ass what you want. I'll get up there because my country asks it of me, but what comes out of your mouth is worth less than shit."
Weaver looked taken aback. It was clearly one of the few times anyone had dared offend him, and he was unsure how to respond. He was a pencil pushing, slimy, backstabbing weasel of a man who Taylor had zero respect for. He was almost as tall as Taylor and clearly in healthy shape. He could have served and fought for their planet and their survival, but he chose to be selfish, and that was unforgiveable. He had a perfectly slicked parting and a tan that could only be the result of careful planning. He had make up applied which was as subtle as a news anchorman, and a Cartier pen placed in his upper suit pocket the same way every time. A matching branded tank watch on his wrist and a sleazy smile to top it all off. Getting nowhere with the Colonel, he turned his attention to Jafar.
"You big guy, you've gotta be suited up. You know the drill, get to it!"
Jafar looked as impressed by his tone as Taylor was.
"Don't forget who you work for now. You're an asset. You get to live a free and great life because of us. Now get to work."
With those words, Weaver paced off as if he'd laid down his orders and there was nothing more to say on the subject. They both knew they had to do the job, but being treated like dirt when they were going to do it anyway left a bitter taste in Taylor's mouth.
"Is this the kind of life you looked forward to and fought for?" asked Jafar.
Taylor shrugged his shoulders.
"Then maybe the next war will come soon."
* * *
Taylor approached the podium from where he was to begin. He was fully geared up in the latest make of Reitech armour. He was ten seconds late, and as he walked in to a cheer from the crowd, he caught sight of the scornful look on Weaver's face. Mitch smiled in response, and that only infuriated him. He lifted his hand, and the room fell silent. Hundreds of cadets looked on at their hero and hung on to his every word and motion. They could not get enough of the officer who killed Demiran in personal combat.
"Afternoon to you all," he stated, making an informal salute to them, "Millions fought and died in the wars with the invaders. I bet most of you saw little of the war, and consider that a blessing, for you were too young to fight it. But now you're being forged into the next generation of fighters, the next marines!"
Roars of applause followed.
"Long after officers like me are too old to still wear a combat uniform, you men and women will carry the torch, and you have a lot to live up to."
A projection lit up behind him displaying images of some of his fallen comrades. Firstly, Colonel Chandra filled the screen, and a narration boomed out and echoed around the room to accompany the footage.
"Colonel Chandra, Captain Friday, just two of the many heroes who fought to save our planet from complete destruction. Remember them, and follow in their footsteps to greatness."
Taylor shook his head, a gesture that didn't go unnoticed by Weaver. His fallen comrades were being used as a cheap recruiting ploy, and it didn't sit well with him at all. He was in half a mind to jump from the stage and crack Weaver's jaw, but he refrained. He looked over to Jafar as the video continued and could see he looked
no more impressed. His alien friend stood off to the side outside of the audience’s view. He wore a full Mech suit, but the head cover plate was removed to reveal his face.
The video came to a close with a roar of applause, but it seemed a hollow gesture.
These kids don't know anything about what they've just been told, to them Chandra is nothing more than a character in a book. But, on the other hand, the potential future of the Corps is standing before me, and it’s my duty to give them a good show.
"The alien invaders were a strong enemy which must never be underestimated. Should you ever meet one, you want to be sure of your Marine training and weapons, for they will keep you alive. The Mech warrior is unlike any enemy our race has ever had to fight!"
He pointed to Jafar as he finished, and his friend stomped onto the stage in the towering and bulky Mech battlesuit. Gasps rang out, for they both knew the crowd had never seen a Mech in person, only on the TV and in video games.
"The first time I ever saw one of these was on the Lunar Colony. Just one single enemy soldier, and it took a platoon to take it down! Our bullets barely scratched it. They were terrifying war machines, the likes of which we had never seen!"
He lifted up a pistol from the display table beside him and fired two shots at Jafar. One ricocheted off and made a loud crash as it hit a clear shield that lay between him and the audience. It ruined the effect a little now they knew they were sheltered, but they still recoiled in surprise.
"Imagine the day we first stood before these metal monsters. Never seen an alien before. Never been in space before. Years of training for combat and being prepared for the next war, and it was nothing like anyone on Earth could have predicted. Faced with a technologically superior enemy we could barely hurt, we gave it our all. We lost many marines that day, and a great many more in the coming years, and yet today we stand triumphant because of the hard work of the men and women out there, with a rifle in hand. That marine could be you."
An image projected up before him of a press photo of a marine in full Reitech equipment and a corny grin on his face. He couldn't believe anyone would buy into it, but then, after all, he did. He continued.
"The heavily armoured Mech is not as slow as you may think, but they are heavily armoured and present large targets. When the great Marcus Reiter developed a new range of handheld weaponry which could take on this new threat, the war finally began to turn."
He picked up the huge Reitech rifle of which he had become so acquainted and lifted it. As he did so, a Mech suit was wheeled in remotely, propped up like a mannequin. It had several battle scars already that had been patched over for the display. He wondered for a moment if he had met its previous owner and sent it into whatever afterlife the aliens may imagine.
"When you have a relentless enemy coming at you, and all that you have left to rely on is your training and your equipment, pray that it is one of these in your hands!"
He lifted the rifle to his shoulder and fired two shots. The muzzles flashed the room in a strobe fashion, and the two rounds punched gaping holes in the armour. The crowd sighed and gasped before laughter followed, as if they were watching the latest outrageously unbelievable action movie.
"Sick!" someone in the crowd yelled out.
Yeah, but not in the way you are thinking, Taylor thought.
"But! The enemy knows no fear! It will rarely stop to take cover or be intimidated by anything you throw at it. And when they are bearing down on you and your magazine runs dry and worse still, you're out of ammo, what do you do?"
"Run!" one replied as the others laughed in response.
"You'd like to, wouldn't you? And every part of your brain should be telling you to do so. You'd have to be crazy, absolutely insane to stand your ground, or, a marine!"
Several nearby the student who had cried out slapped him as he cowered down in shame, and others laughed at him. It was a stage, and he was pandering to a crowd.
How did I ever get this job?
He put down the rifle and picked up an Assegai.
"A stick! Run!" one of them yelled.
"That's an Assegai, idiot!" another replied.
Good, they're starting to learn.
"When you're up close and personal with a Mech, you'll be glad of one of these."
He powered it up and stepped over to the Mech that was still smouldering from the rounds he had put through it. With his other hand, he knocked on the armour. It barely echoed at all and emitted a low drone showing just how substantial it was. He held up the Assegai for all to behold, and then thrust it forward into the Mech armour. It drove through with little resistance and ran up to the hilt. He ripped it back out, and a blue liquid spewed out with the weapon.
He knew it wasn't real alien blood, but the crowd didn't, and they loved the spectacle. He carried on talking for another twenty minutes, with Jafar standing beside him, looking thoroughly dismayed and bored while he talked them through what it was to be a marine and face the enemy they had come to know so well. Finally, it was coming to a close, and Jafar's moment to join the spectacle. Taylor picked up a shield and an unpowered training Assegai before turning back to his audience.
"The Mech enemy is big, powerful, and stronger than any human. But through the innovation of Reitech Industries, we've evened up the score. With this equipment, we can move faster, hit harder, and take more punishment. Even so, we must use our biggest assets to our advantage, speed, agility, and raw willpower. The enemy may have changed, but the essence of what is important to being a marine has always remained the same!"
He pointed towards Jafar and beckoned for his mock enemy to come forward. He taunted the alien, which excited the crowd further.
"Come on, you big metal bastard!" he yelled.
Jafar suddenly moved from his statue-like position he had held since coming on stage. He took a fighting stance and approached Taylor. They both knew a Mech would have a gun in hand, but that wasn't what Weaver wanted in his display. Jafar took up an almost boxing style of pose. It was familiar to the audience and provided plenty of entertainment. Taylor could hardly be enthusiastic about it, but he knew Jafar would at least punish him if he were lazy. He lifted his shield and circled his opponent with caution.
Jafar leapt forward with just a little more speed than a Mech really would. He was supposed to try and simulate the speed, agility, and intelligence of a typical alien warrior, but clearly he had either forgotten, or more likely wanted a bit of a challenge. Taylor lifted his shield, and the brunt of the blow impacted on it before sliding off. Taylor spun off to the side to avoid being crushed by the seemingly charging bull.
The crowd were quiet as they watched in amazement. Taylor rushed forward with his shield held before him, but Jafar grabbed it with both hands and launched him into the air. Taylor made a wild swing with his weapon, but he was already being projected through the air and missed by a long shot. He landed hard and rolled across the floor. Jafar threw down the shield in mock distain that further enthralled the crowd. They booed as if watching a wrestling match.
Taylor knew otherwise. Jafar was his friend, but that didn't mean he was going to go easy on him. He got to his feet and rushed at Jafar, appearing to be doing so through rage. But as Jafar swung for him with the clumsy heavy arms of the Mech suit, he ducked under and rolled. Back on his feet, he evaded a back fist swing and thrust the Assegai up into the Mech chest armour. The electrified tip sent a quick pulse of energy through the suit, causing it to spasm before shutting down.
The crowd cheered in sheer ecstasy, and a hail of comments hurled forward in praise of the Colonel. He sighed in relief as Jafar smiled back at him from the immobilised suit.
"Almost had me there," he jested.
"You're slowing down."
"Yeah, thanks."
Taylor lifted his leg and kicked the centre of the Mech suit. It toppled over onto its back and landed with a satisfying crash to once and for all show defeat. The crowd loved it, and he knew that scene alone would ensur
e recruitment of many of the young men and women there. It made him feel a little sick, for they were presenting war with the Mechs as an adventure, which it never had been for any of them.
Never mind, maybe they'll never have to face the invaders.
But he knew in his heart that it would not be so.
"Well, well, what a great display from our very own hero, Colonel Mitch Taylor!" yelled Weaver, as he got up from his seat and approached the stage between the centre of the audience. They fell silent and looked at the civilian clothed man in a suit with suspicion.
"Let's see him kick some more ass!" one of them yelled.
Several others hollered in agreement.
"Taylor, Taylor, Taylor!" they began to shout and stamp their feet.
Weaver leapt onto the stage with a huge grin on his face and lifted his arms up to call for silence. He didn't get it. Turning to Taylor, he asked for assistance. It pleased the Colonel to know who held the power. He lifted up his palm, and the room instantly went still.
"You've heard from one of our country’s great heroes, and you've seen the weapons our brave Marine Corps use. You've even seen a friendly demonstration of them in use, but what would you say to see those skills and weapons being put to the test against a living and breathing enemy? How would you like to see it done for real?"
They went wild with excitement, as Weaver turned back to Taylor with a smirk.
"What are you doing?" Taylor asked. He was suspicious of the man.
"Only giving the people what they want."
"You're a real fucking humanitarian."
"What's the matter, afraid of a little danger?"
"In your dreams. You can try your metal against me any time, and the result will always be the same."
"Not me, Colonel. One of them."
He lifted a small remote controller and pressed a button. The divider at the back of the stage split and slid open. Taylor was appalled to see a Mech. A huge hydraulic column restrained it, and he could already see where this was going.
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