Battle Earth IX

Chapter 1

Taylor's eyes opened slowly, but he couldn't see much at all. His sight was blurred, and his head was pounding. He could just about hear an occasional drone that sounded like metal on metal. He could taste his own blood, which was never a good sign, and the air was stale. A face appeared before him, and even though he could not see clearly, the outline was enough to tell him it was Eli.

For a moment, he had no recollection of where they were or why, but as he looked around and saw the body of the ship's XO strewn across the bridge, it began to come back to him. Parker had still not said a word as she looked at him in amazement. She finally turned to someone else beside her.

"He's awake!"

A huge figure stepped up and loomed over her. It was Jafar. He reached down and hauled Taylor to his feet, without checking to see if he was injured. His back clicked and his joints crunched as he was hauled upright, but he had no choice other than stand on his own two feet. He shook his head at the lack of finesse, and it too clicked as it loosened up.

"How are you feeling?"

"Like shit, Parker."

"Can nothing really kill you?" Herbert asked him.

Taylor looked over at the Sergeant. He had a bandage wrapped around his head and covering his left eye, yet seemed unbothered by his injuries.

"I wouldn't be so sure."

His sight was coming back as was his hearing, and yet the pounding of metal on metal had not stopped. Every impact felt like a hammer to his aching head.

"What in hell is that god awful pounding?" he asked.

Parker's face turned from the relief and hope from when he had awoken to despair and fear.

"What is it?"

He looked to Jafar for answers, knowing the alien would give him a straight response.

"The remained Mechs aboard are sweeping the ship and eliminating all humans."

"All? The crew as well?"

"As far as we can tell, yeah."

"So the wolves are at our door?"

"That about sums it up, Sir," Herbert replied.

"Any word from Jones?"

"He survived the crash but no idea now. Last contact, he was going radio silent with hostiles nearby."

Taylor looked around to see what assets they had at their disposal. A dozen of them were still on their feet. Several others lay dead, and three were conscious but unable to walk. The survivors of the bridge crew were huddled in one corner and under guard by one of his own. As he tried to think, the banging on the door interfered with his every thought.

"What do we do?" asked Parker.

"Make that goddamn noise stop!" he yelled.

"You want to open the door? We have no idea how many are out there. They've been hitting it with everything they’ve got for the last ten minutes, to no avail. We're safe in here."

"On a sinking ship?"

The thought hadn't crossed her mind. The wave of Mechs beating at the door had been the focus of their attention. Taylor strode over to the prisoners. They looked just as terrified as Parker did when he first awoke.

"Those aliens want to rip everyone of us apart, you can see that, right?"

They nodded cautiously.

"This war is human versus alien, always has been. You can either stand with us and fight your way out of here, or die at their hands. When we get clear, you can stay with us, or hand yourselves in as POWs, but right now you have a choice. What'll it be?"

"We'll fight," said one of them, without hesitation.

"Release them, and get whatever weapons and ammo you can."

His own people looked uneasy with the situation, but they dared not oppose him.

"We're gonna get ourselves out of this heap, if we have to rip it apart with our bare hands."

* * *

"Run!" Jones shouted.

Gunfire struck the ceiling above him, and a panel smashed down over his head, but he kept moving.

"Where the hell are we going, Captain?" Herrera called out, breathlessly.

"I got no idea, away from them!"

They passed a few Navy crew, who did not even notice who they were, but as they reached an intersection ahead, Jones was brought to an abrupt halt when he almost fell over a line of German Marines. They raised their weapons at each other, but neither fired - it was a standoff. No one said a word as they tried to work out what to do. They heard gunfire off to their flank, Jones and Herrera turned ever so slightly to look. Twenty metres down, Mechs were stomping on past at another intersection, and bodies were dropping around them.

"You see that?" Jones asked the man at the front, "They're killing every human they find. It's us against them now."

The German didn't respond. Jones could see he was a Sergeant called Lang, but he looked newly promoted and was young for the rank. Charlie doubted the man had ever seen combat until that day. He lowered his own rifle, revealing Taylor's nametag. It immediately caught the man's eye. It was a lie to continue on in the persona of the Colonel, but he wasn't going to forgo any advantage he had.

"I don't want to fight you, Sergeant. That’s the enemy, right there. They are the ones tearing your friends apart. Come with me, and let's get out of here together."

The Sergeant looked back to his men. None of them looked keen on a fight. He slowly turned back and accepted.

"Okay, we will fight beside you."

"All right, where are we right now, and how do we get to the bridge?"

It's a few decks above us, but why would you want to go there? We need to get off this ship."

"I have a few friends to find first. We stick together, and we double our odds of survival, what'll it be?"

The Sergeant accepted once again.

"Lead the way," Jones ordered.

The dozen marines Lang had with him stuck close at his back, as the Sergeant formed up beside Jones. As they began to move, he swamped Jones with questions.

"Is this another invasion? Is this happening all over again? Did we do this? Did we choose the wrong side?"

Jones didn't want to be the bearer of bad news, but he had no answers the Sergeant would want to hear.

"Just focus on what's before us. Whatever happened two minutes ago, two months ago, two years ago, it doesn't matter now. You can see the threat that lies before you. You put in your all, and that's all that matters."

Lang sighed and smiled a little, at least feeling a little relieved he was not being held to blame. Up ahead, five bodies of crewmembers were scattered across the deck. Lang slowed on reaching them, staring wide-eyed at the corpses.

"Nothing you can do for them now," Jones said quietly.

He grabbed the man's arm and dragged him onwards.

"The bridge, Sergeant, lead the way."

Lang didn't say a word, but he did follow the command. Screams rang out from up ahead, and they stopped for just a moment. More crewmembers were rushing towards them and clearly being chased.

"How many Mechs did you have aboard?" asked Jones.

The Sergeant shrugged. It was presumably information beyond his pay grade.

"Must be hundreds of them," said Silva, who had worked his way up to the front.

How can anyone have ever thought this was a good idea? Jones asked himself, shaking his head.

The fleeing crewmembers reached them but made no attempt to stop. They barrelled past the troops.

"Where are they heading?"

"Same place we should be, Colonel, the lifeboats."

It was a tempting proposition, but he wasn't going to leave Taylor and the rest of the Inter-Allied behind. He prayed they were still alive, but he already knew Mitch would be at least. Lang went to move forward, but Jones grabbed his arm.

"Where are you going?"

"The bridge?"

"Who do you think those crew were running from? Take up position, and be ready to fire."

The Sergeant looked sheepish, but he looked back and gave the signal to his section. The corridor went silent for a moment as they lined the corridor, taking what little cover from the support beams they could. Jones' people used their shields for extra cover. A moment later they heard the heavy footsteps of Mechs stomping towards them. It was an obnoxious noise that still sent shivers down Jones' spine, but he’d learnt to bear it long ago.

"Ready?"

The Sergeant looked terrified, to the extent Jones wondered if he had ever fired his weapon in anger. He knew the answer was probably no.

"When you see them, you remember they’re the ones who are killing your comrades, you hear?" he whispered to Lang.

The Sergeant nodded and flicked the safety off his weapon.

Christ! He still had it on, Jones thought.

A second later two Mechs stepped into view with their weapons at the ready. They were completely unaware of the gun line they were running into and had no time to respond. Dozens of shots rang out and riddled the creatures until they dropped down stone dead.

As they hit the deck, more stepped past them, their weapons firing. It was the same relentless advance they had gotten so used to seeing from the alien soldiers. Jones felt a heavy impact be absorbed by his shield, and several other shots smashed the bulkhead around them, but to little effect. Just five Mechs passed over the bodies of the first two and were cut down almost as quickly by the volley of automatic fire. Jones could see a look of almost surprise in Lang's face as the corridor fell silent.

"Come on!" he yelled, as he moved forward, expecting the Sergeant to guide him. When they reached the Mechs, he noticed a slight movement in one and fired a three-shot burst into the creature without breaking stride. Lang almost fell over in surprise as the weapon discharged, but Jones pulled him along, in order to have no further time wasted.

"Elevators are out, so we'll have to take the stairs," said Lang.

"Lead the way."

The Sergeant wanted nothing more than to drop back and let someone else do so, but Jones was adamant he should be at the front. Lang took ten steps, then stopped and looked back at Jones, as if asking ‘how much further do I have to do this?’ But Jones simply nodded and gestured for him to carry on. They got to the entrance to the next floor. There was no sign of life, just a few screams of either agony or panic in the distance.

"We can't help them," Jones said.

He knew he was asking the Sergeant to leave his people when he wasn't willing to do the same, but the Sergeant complied anyway.

As they turned onto the next stairs, they came to an abrupt halt. They saw a figure on the stairs above them. They quickly raised their weapons ready to shoot, but soon realised it was a marine cowering against the wall. Jones lowered his weapon and stepped up cautiously to the man. He looked terrified and couldn't even bring himself to raise his weapon, simply remaining frozen and sitting on the steps. Jones couldn't see any visible sign of injury.

"You okay, marine?"

He got no response, so he slapped the man's helmet firmly. Life suddenly returned to the man's eyes, and all his attention was turned on Jones.

"You hurt?"

He shook his head.

"Then get your arse up and get in this fight," Jones spoke to him sternly.

He grabbed the marine and hauled him to his feet.

"We're fighting our way off this boat. You want to join us, or stay down there and die?"

His nametag read 'Fuchs', but Taylor could see no sign of rank. He couldn't be older than twenty and had a boyish face that had never known war.

"Fuchs?" Jones asked.

The marine looked down at his uniform and looked confused, but then turned to Lang who he seemed to recognise.

"It's okay, Private. They're with us."

Jones grabbed Fuch's helmet and pulled him round, forcing him to look right at him.

"No time for buggering about, Private. There's a war to fight, and you're slap bang in the middle of it. Now fall in and get to work."

He nodded in response and appeared to right his back, holding himself a little taller and with some pride. Jones could see he had just witnessed the horrors of war he himself had grown all too familiar with, and all he needed were some friends at his side.

"You gonna fall in, Private?" Jones asked.

Confidence returned to his eyes, and he stepped past Jones to take up position with the Sergeant. He looked back to see Silva pointing at his watch.

"How far are we from the bridge?" Jones asked Lang.

"Not far."

That's a big help, he thought, as he pointed for the Sergeant to go on. They carried on cautiously up the last few steps. The sound of the gunfire grew louder.

"It's Taylor, has to be," he muttered.

"Taylor? You're Taylor," replied Lang.

Busted!

"No, I'm not Taylor. The name’s Jones, but as far as you're concerned, I might as well be Taylor, who is in there right now and needs our help, you got that?"

He agreed without any hesitation, seeing the unforgiving look in Jones' eyes. Jones didn't need a guide anymore, for he just had to follow the sound of gunfire. He took the last few steps and got out into the corridor. Just as he did, two Mechs rushed into view at a junction up ahead. He fired a snap shot before they disappeared from view. It hit a creature, forcing it to stop and turn quickly to face him, but in doing so presented a perfect target.

Jones quickly raised the weapon for a better aim and fired a burst. Fuchs and Silva quickly joined his side. The creature got off just a single shot that hit the ceiling before it collapsed as a smouldering pile of metal on the deck. The second Mech turned the corner to come back at them, and Jones barely got his shield up in time to take one of the hits and step aside for cover with the others.

Without a word, he pulled a grenade from his waist and armed it. As he launched it, the creature paced out to get them in its sights. Jones dropped to one knee and took shelter behind his shield. It took three shots before the grenade ignited between the feet of the Mech. Chunks of metal were launched across the room, and two large shards of shrapnel impeded in his shield which was now already buckled and weakened in several places.

Silva was up and past before he was on his feet, rushing for the sound of the battle going on just around the corner. As he reached the site of the grenade blast, he opened fire on full auto. Jones took the bend to find seven Mechs with their backs to them, trying to get their way through the open door of the bridge.

Fuchs, Lang and, six others joined them in what felt more like a firing squad. The nine of them held down their triggers until all magazines were empty, and all that remained before them was a heap of metal. Blue blood poured out across the deck from dozens of penetrations of the armoured suits. Jones knew there was someone still alive aboard the bridge; he only hoped it was more than a few. There was utter silence now. Not a cry of pain or a gunshot to be heard.

"Taylor!" Jones shouted.

No response came.

"Colonel Taylor!" he called again.

The worry was starting to really set in as he paced forward towards the door. He took each step more cautiously than the last. He wasn't sure he wanted to see what lay beyond the entrance.

"Jones?" a voice returned.

It was growly and dry. Jones got to the door with his rifle held ready to fire at a moment's notice. There were a number of figures moving, and all of them his comrades. He took a deep breath, lowered his weapon, and stepped firmly through the entrance.

"Jones? You made it."

He looked to see the coarse voice was indeed Taylor. He was sitting propped up against a back wall. His nose was broken, and a deep cut ran from his eyebrow down over his top lip. Most of the survivors around him were wounded in some way, and many others lay dead around them.

"Some rescue attempt, hey?" asked Taylor.

"We're alive, aren't we?"

Taylor looked around at the devastation around them. He was glad to see his closest friends had made it, but so many more of his comrades had not.

"So what's our situation, Mitch?"

"Shit."

Taylor staggered to his feet, noting Jones was still awaiting a proper answer.

"Honestly? Somewhere in the Atlantic, beyond that I have no clue."

"We still on the surface?"

Taylor shrugged. "Your guess is as good as mine."

He turned to the remaining crewmembers.

"Well?"

The pilot stuttered.

"Simple answer!" Jones said.

"In theory, if all breaches were sealed, I guess we could float. But with the damage we took before and during impact, I can't imagine we're too airtight."

"So what are you saying?"

"That we're taking on water," Taylor replied.

"How long do we have?" asked Jones.

The pilot shrugged.

"I suggest we make a move fast. At the bottom of the ocean bed ain't how I saw myself ending," stated Spears.

Rains stepped out from the back of the line and appeared remarkably unscathed by the fighting or crash landing. Taylor looked at him astonished.

"Where the hell have you been?"

"Keeping my head from being blown off. I rather like it where it is."

Taylor couldn't disagree. He looked around to see a motley group, many of which who were at each other's throats just an hour before, but now all looked to him for answers.

"All right, right now we're as deep into this heap of junk as we can be. We need to stick together and get the hell off this thing before it drags us to hell. I need a volunteer who is best suited to guiding us to the surface."

Nobody responded, and he wasn't surprised. It was a lot of responsibility to place on one soul. He looked around for the best person for the job until he finally stopped at Sergeant Lang. He was firmly stuck to Jones' side and eager to be led rather than have to face it all head on.

"Sergeant, you must know the ship better than most. You got point. Lead us out of here."

Lang looked horrified, but Taylor wasn't going to take no for an answer.

"The Nassau has fallen, Sergeant. The only task that remains is your duty to protect her crew. Will you do that?"

He reluctantly nodded in agreement.

"Yes...yes, Sir."

"All right, we take the wounded with us. I'll be up front with the Sergeant here. Jones you bring up the rear, and let's get moving."

A dozen casualties who were still breathing were hauled onto their feet. Taylor knew they would slow the pace substantially, but he could not bring himself to do otherwise. He grabbed a few magazines from one of their own dead at the door and stuffed them into his pouches before slamming one into the rifle. Lang stood next to him and looked down past the line of dead Mechs leading to the bridge. He was in a daze. Parker and Silver moved up to join them.

"Lang, you're leading us, but you stay two paces behind me the whole way, you hear? We can't afford to lose our guide, you got that?"

Taylor could see the relief in Lang's eyes at the realisation he wasn't going to have to go first. He looked back to see the line was now ready to move. Jafar carried one of the wounded on his shoulder with ease while still holding his rifle at the ready. He turned back to Lang.

"You ready?"

A scream echoed from several corridors away, sending a shiver down the Sergeant's back, but he nodded in agreement.

"Okay, let's move out, quick as we can."

He stepped out first.

"You're gonna have to speak up, Sergeant. Guide me."

"Uhhh..."

"Don't think. You know this ship. Walk it like you would any other day of the week."

"Keep going till we reach a flight of stairs directly ahead."

"That's it," he muttered, picking up the pace. Another scream rang out which was much closer now, and they realised they were heading right for the source of it. The stairs were in sight, but as they reached them, a Mech tumbled down and landed at the base. Taylor lifted his rifle to fire at the creature that was flailing to get up. But before he could pull the trigger, a grenade tumbled down the stairs and ignited on the creature. He raised his shield just in time as the blast sent shrapnel flying towards them. He looked up. The metal grid stairs were partly collapsed and now blocked.

"For Christ’s sake, can nothing go our way?" he said to himself.

"It's okay. Follow me," replied Lang.

He rushed out to Taylor's left and got up pace down another corridor.

"Back!" he screamed.

Taylor rushed on after him, but he would not slow down. The Colonel looked back. The column could not match their pace with all the wounded. He rushed forward to stop the marine, reaching him at a bend where he had stopped for a moment. Taylor got a firm grasp on his backplate and yanked him back. As he did so, a shot ricocheted off the wall where he had been a second before. Taylor threw the Sergeant behind him as the others got to them. He peaked out around the corner, trying to locate the shooter. The sight of a Mech soldier rapidly advancing towards him at just ten metres away shocked him. Mitch ducked back as more shots landed beside him.

"Right, you son of a bitch," he whispered.

He could hear the steps now. Lang didn't know what to do and couldn't believe Taylor simply waited for the creature to close in on them. Mitch took in a deep breath, and in the last few steps as the Mech got to them, he spun out from the corner and smashed his shield up into the Mech's weapon, driving it high. As the creature’s rifle fired into the ceiling, he drove his gun into its stomach and fired on full auto.

The Mech spasmed, its abdomen riddled with bullets. Finally, it went limp. Taylor tossed the body back onto the deck in disgust to reveal the barrel of his rifle that was now drenched in blood. He looked back to Lang who was still speechless.

"You give directions, and I lead. You stay behind me, you hear?"

He nodded and pointed for them to go the way the creature had come from.

"Let's move."

They got ten metres when an explosion rang out not far from their position. Taylor stopped immediately, waiting and listening for anything else. But a moment later, he could hear the sound of running water.

"Oh, shit," he murmured.

His worst fear had come true.

"We're going down, and fast."

Water gushed around a corner up ahead and almost immediately covered their boots. He thought about asking Lang for other options on how to get out, for just a split second, but he knew such indecision could end them as quickly as making the wrong one.

"Keep moving!" he boomed.

He could feel the weight of the water pushing against his feet, and his already exhausted legs were feeling like lead weights trying to drag him down. He struggled on, telling himself he wasn't willing to die down there. As a marine, he knew the situation could occur, and that he might go down with a ship, but he never really thought for one moment it would ever be a possibility.

"Left, left here!"

Taylor followed Lang, took the bend, and found a Mech facing the way they were heading. He didn't even hesitate to fire a burst into its back without breaking stride. The Mech's body splashed into the water as he passed by.

"How many of those fuckers did you have aboard?" Silva asked.

Lang didn't respond. He was clearly feeling more than a little sheepish that he'd been a part of it all. They reached a stairway, and water was already flowing down at quite a rate.

"How do we even know we're still on the surface?"

Taylor didn't reply to Parker’s question; he had no good answer. Instead, he leapt onto the stairs and stormed up them. He made it up two flights before looking back to Lang.

"How much further?"

"Not far now. The escape pods are just around the corner."

Taylor carried on as Lang pointed the way to go. A few bodies swept past them as the water levels were reaching their knees. Debris crashed into his boots and greaves. They took the bend and were met by a line of shuttle doors, each a metre wide.

"No, no!" cried Lang.

Each one of the doors had a thick glass window at the centre and was full with water where the pods had been launched. Every single one was gone.

"Lang, are these the only ones we can use?"

Lang collapsed down onto his knees weeping, but Taylor hauled him back to his feet.

"Concentrate, Sergeant!"

He shook his head. "None that we can reach quickly."

Taylor looked around to the others. They were all waiting for him to come up with a solution.

"I'm not going down with this ship," he stated, "How deep do you reckon we are?"

Jones shrugged. "How the hell can we tell?"

"We haven't been here long. There’s still plenty of air and structural integrity from what I've seen."

"Now you're just living on hopes and prays," Rains joined in.

"Yeah, well what else do we have? Ain't no one coming to our rescue. Seal your helmets. We're going for a swim."

Parker shook her head.

"Even if we have got enough air, we open that, and the pressure could kill us instantly."

"And we stay in here, we're dead anyway. I'll take my chances out there. Masks down!"

They quickly responded as he raised his rifle to take aim at one of the pod doors. A second later, he fired a burst at two of the clamps. The door prised open and was launched off its frame by the forces of water gushing in. Taylor turned and looked to Parker; the water had reached his waist. It was their best chance, and they both knew it, but that didn't make it any less terrifying.

They all watched and waited as the water rose up to their masks and then above the doorway. Taylor did not say a word as he activated his boosters and pushed off for the exit. He knew the others would follow without a command. He could not see a thing through the water and only continued to drive upwards, using his arms to swim a little faster. A display light flashed inside his helmet, and he knew exactly what it meant; he was running out of air.

The water was getting lighter and clearer, and suddenly he burst out onto the surface. The warm rays of the sun sitting high in the sky met him. He clicked back the mask on his helmet and breathed in the air with relief; his comrades arose beside him. Parker appeared just a few metres away and swam over to him, wrapping her arms around him.

"We did it!"

"Yeah, we're alive, but for how long?" he said, looking out around them.

Debris lay scattered across the ocean, and they looked up at dozens of alien ships entering the atmosphere overhead.

"Not again, how can this happen again?" pleaded Eli.

"Erdogan, that bastard. We will never know peace while he still draws breath."