Battle Earth IX

Chapter 4

Taylor was the first to step down the ramp onto the surface and stopped to look out at the ten-metre high walls either side of them, thinking of how they had seen layers just like it from the air.

"Looks like Minas Tirith," said Lang.

"What?" Silva asked.

"Layer after layer of thick walls housing a city. Tolkien?"

Silva shook his head and that brought a smile to Jones' face.

"We'll bring some culture to your world yet," he added.

Silva was still oblivious to what they were talking about and shrugged it off.

A dozen friendly vessels passed overhead, coming in to land throughout the city, and many more could be seen on the ground. Troops and vehicles were busy at work all around them.

"Will it be enough?"

"Probably not, Jones," replied Taylor.

Jones could not help but laugh at his scepticism, to avoid crying instead. Taylor was looking around for some semblance of authority. Army and Marine personnel were intermingled, and he could make out the uniforms of cops and Coast Guard. National Guard and Marine reservists were there too.

"One big happy family," said Silva.

A stripped down utility mule jeep parted some of the troops and stopped by them. It had just a single seat for the driver; the rest being a flat topped carrying deck.

"Colonel Taylor?" asked the driver.

"Yeah," he replied casually.

"Sir, General Heath requests your presence immediately, and that of Captain Jones if he is with you."

"And he couldn't have called this in?"

"Comms are haywire, Sir. We've got interference coming in all over the place, and we have no idea who is listening in. Fixed line communications have been established every one hundred metres on all the walls for when they are needed."

"Going old school."

"Yes, Sir."

"King, you know what to do. We'll be back shortly." Taylor climbed onto the flat-topped vehicle with Jones.

"Sorry about the ride, Sir, but we're a little hard pressed right now."

The driver raced off, causing troops nearby to jump out of the way. Taylor and Jones hung on rather unceremoniously to the rim of the storage basket they were sitting on. They passed through the huge reinforced gates of one of the walls and could see troops piling down into bunkers below that were integrated into the giant structures.

"Defences above and below?" Jones commented.

"We started digging in a few years back until their armour started rolling over us, so we started building up!" replied the driver.

"You were there for the defence of the city?"

"What's left of it, Sir, yes."

"So someone got out alive," whispered Jones.

They passed through another wall, and as they did, they could see four ships coming into land and a welcome party waiting for whoever it was.

"That's General Heath, Sir," the man said, pointing to a soldier who would have looked more at home by Taylor's side than in a war room. Their vehicle came to a halt twenty metres back from the welcome party. As they climbed off, they saw General White step off one of the ships and approach Heath. Taylor continued right on up to them, and White quickly turned to address him.

"Colonel Taylor, this is General Heath, US Army."

Heath looked to be in his early fifties and stood eye to eye with Mitch. His face was pot-holed and rough, as if it had been riddled with shrapnel. He was in fighting shape and wore full Reitech gear, being an almost mirror of Mitch himself, though his helmet was off and revealing his almost bald head that had just a little grey hair either side.

"Of all the places we could have met before, Colonel, I can't think of anywhere I would rather have had you on side if a shit storm comes our way, than right here now!"

Taylor smiled.

I like this General already, he thought.

"We have no more time for pleasantries. Gentlemen, please follow me."

He stopped for a moment and looked to Jones.

"Captain Charlie Jones?"

"Yes, Sir," he quickly replied, with a puzzled expression.

"Follow me also."

With that, the General turned and quickly strode towards the entrance to a bunker that was set into the ground. Jones looked to Taylor for answers, but he had none as they stepped down below the surface. It wasn't long before they were standing around a map of the area in Heath's war room, just as Taylor had been so many times before. He never liked it. He was a field officer and never wanted to be anything more.

"Any moment we should be hearing from General Dupont, who I know you are familiar with."

"Yes, Sir," replied Taylor, "but how, may I ask?"

"We have a number of emergency lines set up directly to key installations around the World. We learnt a lot from the last war, and being in the dark again is not something I want to experience. I was here in Baltimore last time we took a stand here, and I can tell you it wasn't pretty."

Taylor could tell Heath had been a fighting man back then. There was no way he’d sat at a desk during that war, with the way he held himself and talked.

"You gave 'em quite a fight."

"I was a Major back then. When I got out, I had less than fifty men still walking and under my command."

A light flashed on the display beside Heath, and he quickly answered before Taylor could even think of a response to his comment. An image of Dupont was projected, and Taylor could already see the pained expression and pale face of a man who was hanging by a thread. He began to open his mouth but stopped and stared at Taylor.

"You made it?"

"I don't die that easy," replied Mitch.

It brought a smile to Dupont's face and the faintest of hope back to his eyes.

"What can I do for you, General?" asked Heath.

"I am sorry to say, and I must be blunt about this. This is a plea for help. Our lines are crumbling. Our armies in the south have broken and have been scattered to the wind. We are on the ragged edge. Will you come to us in this time of need?"

Heath took a deep breath and sighed.

"General Dupont, I assure you I would give you all that you require, would it be even possible. I cannot make that decision, nor could I rightly weaken the defences here in Baltimore. I am sorry to say it, but we aren't fairing much better. We're digging in to weather this storm."

"Then we are alone?"

"You must be able to get support your side of the water? Where are the Spanish, the British?"

"In the same boat, I am afraid. And many of the UEN nations are in open civil war since the arrival of Erdogan's forces."

Dupont went silent and for a few moments and was close to weeping. He finally looked back at them. "This is like nothing we have faced before. I'm getting reports of technology we have never experienced, and lines are breaking easily. I don't know how much longer this can go on for."

"You just keep up the fight, and we'll do the same. Give them all we’ve got. Look to your allies. Even now, troops are en route to support us here. When we can, we'll come and help you."

"Thank you, General. One last thing, I asked if you knew the whereabouts of Captain Charlie Jones?"

"Yes, he is here with us now."

Jones stepped up beside Taylor into the view. He looked suspiciously at Dupont and said nothing.

"Captain, I am sure you would like to have news of your wife. She is safe within the facility here. If you can be directed into private quarters, I can have you put through."

Jones looked at Heath, who simply pointed to a door off to one side.

"Thank you," Jones said and walked cautiously to the room, not knowing what to expect.

The door was shut behind him, and a screen projection displayed before him. It was not Coco, but a doctor he did not recognise.

"Captain Jones?" asked the woman.

He nodded in return.

"I want to let you know that both your wife and unborn child are safe and secure and in good health."

Jones was still silent. The doctor peered into his frozen expression.

"Captain?"

"Child?" he whispered.

"Your wife is nine weeks pregnant," she said.

"I didn't know."

"I'm sorry. I had no idea."

"No...it’s okay."

Jones didn't know what else to say.

"The important thing here is that Coco is recovering well and will be able to leave shortly, though, I am not sure where... well... where she can go."

It suddenly dawned on him the danger she was in, and just how far he was from being able to help her. The doctor was as speechless as he was now and looked a little flustered at having been caught in such an uncomfortable position.

"I can put you through to her for a few moments," she quickly added.

He nodded. "Please."

He was still stunned as the screen transitioned to Coco, who was sitting up in bed. She had evidently been waiting for him because she was looking right into his eyes with a smile.

"How are you?" she asked.

It struck him as bizarre. Like they had just woken up in their remote farm without a care in the world. He tried to respond, but his throat was dry. He coughed to clear this throat and finally managed to speak.

"Good...sort of."

Both were quiet, as they tried to think of something to say or someway of asking what they were both thinking. Jones looked away for a moment and then to her as she hung onto his every expression, waiting for him to speak.

"So...you're..."

She nodded and then smiled.

"I know it's not exactly the best timing, and I didn't know until yesterday...but..."

"But nothing, it's the best news I've heard all year."

She was silent once more and began to weep.

"What is it?" he asked.

She tried to wipe away the tears as she replied. "I thought you'd be so mad."

"Why on earth would you think that?"

She sobbed once more. "I don't know."

"I came in here expecting the worst, and I've got the two best pieces of news I could ever hope for, and never for a moment dreamt could be true. We just have to get you out of there. I'll find a way to get to you, don't you worry."

She shook her head, and her face suddenly tightened and became more serious.

"No, you will not."

"What?"

"I'm already out of this fight. I won't have you as well. You have people who need you. Taylor needs you."

"They'll understand."

"No, they'd accept you leaving, but they might not survive it. I'm safe here."

"But..."

"No," she said firmly, "I will not have you leave your post because of me. You will stay there and do your duty."

He wanted to fight her on it, but he could see the determination in her eyes. The door beside Jones opened, and the man who had led him in there poked his head around the corner.

"Sir, I'm sorry, but we need to free up the line."

"All right."

He turned back to her.

"I have to go, but you look after yourself, you hear?"

"I will, look after both of us," she said with a smile, "Good luck, Charlie."

The screen went black, and Jones shook his head in astonishment.

"Stubborn fool," he muttered to himself with a smile.

His mind was reeling as he left the room to join Taylor and the other officers, who he found to be in deep conversation. Mitch could see the look on Jones' face and suspected the worst. Without interrupting the discussion, he looked into Jones' eyes and mimed the words, 'you okay?' Jones shrugged and nodded, but Taylor couldn't tell if he was genuinely okay, or if his stiff upper lip attitude would give the impression he was either way.

"Colonel?"

Taylor hadn't even noticed Heath calling his name.

"Colonel Taylor?"

He snapped out of his concern for his friend and turned to the General; he looked far from impressed by his lack of attention.

"Think you can handle that, Colonel?"

"Yes...yes, Sir."

"I need everyone under my command at one hundred percent, Colonel, so get your head in the game."

He simply nodded in return.

"Then you all know what to do. We're in this for the long haul. Dig deep. We need everything you have got to give. Keep your people together. Keep the morale high, and keep up the fight. That will be all."

Taylor turned and left with Jones. It immediately struck him as strange that his friend did not enquire about what was discussed with the Generals after having missed the entire briefing. His mind was elsewhere. Mitch stopped and put his hand out to stop Jones, who would have gone on not having noticed otherwise.

"Come on, spit it out."

"What?"

"You’ve got some news, Charlie. It's obviously a big deal. Let's hear it."

"Coco, she's okay, and so is our unborn child."

It was the last thing Taylor was expecting to hear, and he didn't know what to say.

"I know, still can't believe it myself."

"Well...that's great," replied Taylor.

He tried to be convincing, but he couldn’t hide the overwhelming feeling he had, that it was the worst timing in the world, and Jones could tell.

"I know. I know what you're thinking, and don't think I don't feel it too. But those are the facts of it, and now we just have to deal with it."

"So what are you gonna do?"

"About what?"

"Your wife is the middle of a warzone, and you're the other side of the World."

"I know that, but she told me to stay. Coco said I had to stay here, and keep doing what we're doing."

"And you don't have a problem with that?"

"Of course I do, but I don't see how I can help. Over there is a war zone, over here is a war zone. Let's grind these bastards down and break them over these walls, and then worry about it."

Taylor was surprised he wasn’t rushing off to be by Dubois' side, but he was glad of it.

"So what's the plan?"

"Heath has allocated us an area to defend. It doesn't really get any more complex."

He looked out for the ride that had got them there, but the mule was nowhere to be seen. The crude and utilitarian flatbed transport was luxury, compared to having to walk after the long days they had experienced.

"Great," muttered Taylor.

He stopped for a moment and looked around at their surroundings, realising they were in the remains of downtown Baltimore. A few storefronts made up part of a wall nearby. Cars and brickwork had been piled high beside them, and the whole lot filled with concrete and other materials.

"Looks like a wasteland fortress."

"You know why?" asked Taylor, "Because it is."

He could see the command post had been built from the remnants of a subway station. The city was a continuous layer upon layer of walls, trenches, and barricades. Paths were no wider than a few metres, and the walls every block or two made sure no armoured vehicles could pass within the city limits. Gun towers lay camouflaged within the upper floors of the last remaining floors of tower blocks.

"You know how often in history a fortress like this has ever held out?"

"I know."

"Fortresses like this exist to hold long enough for reinforcement on the ground. Think that kind of aid is coming?"

"We can only hope."

They carried on back to their own unit on foot. Everywhere they looked, troops were digging in, improving defences, or ready and awaiting an attack.

"You have to know this is the worst we've ever had it, Mitch?"

"Yep."

"They hit us when we we're at our weakest, and they hit us harder than ever before. You really think digging in like this is the way?"

"What else can we do?"

"What you normally do when facing vastly superior numbers and firepower. Fall back. Don't take them head on."

"A guerrilla war?"

"Yes," replied Jones.

"The day we do that is the day we accept we have already lost."

Jones said nothing more of it as they continued on. Half the troops they passed were fresh and clean and had clearly not seen action yet. The other half looked like they'd been through several months of combat, not the last few hard days.

"And if this city falls?"

"What about it?"

"Stalingrad, you know your history. You know what happened to the Germans who survived that fight."

Taylor nodded. It sent a shiver down his spine as he remembered what he had read of those events from so many years ago; starvation, and brutal and bitter bloodshed followed by long and painful deaths in prisoner of war camps, with the most atrocious of conditions.

"And if you think they had it bad, you have no idea what this enemy will do to us."

Jones knew all too well, and that made Taylor hold his tongue. Not another word was spoken until they finally found their own ships and people in sight.

"This is it, this is where Heath wants us to stay."

"And the birds?"

"Nowhere safer for them to go than where they are."

Jones shook his head. They both knew it was another sign of bad times. Taylor carried on to towards King and a Grey who stood chatting beside one of the craft. The few hundred troops of Inter-Allied were scattered about, mostly doing little more than resting their weary legs.

"All right, gather around!" Taylor ordered.

Most stayed put and only those further out wandered into hearing distance.

"Our orders are simple! We hold this ground!"

It came as little surprise to any of them.

"For many of us, this means fighting on home soil. But let's not forget we have fought this enemy as one, as one race. So don't think of these as foreign lands for those from across the water. This is Earth. This is your homeland. It doesn't matter where we fight because it's all ours, and that's how it's gonna stay. So who's ready to give those bastards hell?"

He got a few cheers, but it was nowhere near the enthusiasm he wanted.

"I said who wants to give these bastards hell?" he boomed even louder.

Every man and woman of the Regiment roared at the tops of their voices, to the extent it brought most passersby to a standstill.

"Nobody ever won a war by being mopey bastards. They won it by being the go getters, the life takers, and the ass kickers you were all born to be!"

Another roar of excitement echoed around the walls either side of them. Taylor was at least satisfied he had riled them up enough.

"This is our land. This is our castle. Take up positions, and be ready to defend it with every fibre of your being!"

With that, he turned and walked away to a cheer from the troops. He headed for the group of officers who stood awaiting him with Jones at their centre.

"Little over the top, don’t you think?”

Taylor shrugged his shoulders.

“It’s what they wanted to hear.”

Jones muttered something under his breath, and it was clear Taylor’s speech had not been his idea of inspiring the troops. Yet he didn't want to admit that it seemed to work.

"Incoming," a voice shouted from the walls above them. The call was being repeated every twenty metres through the base as Taylor rushed up onto the barricade. Hundreds of alien vehicles were approaching. Those tracked were stopped at the lines of traps and barricades that had been built, but skimmers and aircraft continued on.

Huge gun emplacements along the length of the wall opened fire when the first enemy targets came within a kilometre range. Taylor watched, hoping it be enough to bring them down, but even he could see it wouldn't be. A few of the ships exploded, but many more continued on. Pulses from the enemy vehicles soared towards their wall, and Taylor could only duck down into cover and hope for the best.

Thunderous vibrations shook their position, and Taylor felt a little sick from the volcanic like eruptions shaking him about. Two more volleys struck their position before they heard the craft soar overhead. Two were struck by ground weapons and crashed down into the defences and erupted on impact. Taylor got to his feet and looked out across the plain. It was utter chaos, thousands of Mechs advancing on the city and drones out ahead of them in skirmish lines.

He could see swarms of enemy craft on the horizon. He looked across the wall to those standing with him. Jones stood shoulder-to-shoulder with US Army personnel. They were speechless. The battle had only just begun, and yet they could see little hope of victory in sight. No one said a word, but Taylor knew he must. He turned and looked at all the stunned and distraught faces of who fought with him.

"You see them!" he shouted.

It grabbed plenty of attention, as no one else had anything to say.

"You've fought them before! You've beaten them before! You think you're scared? Every army they have sent to this world has been destroyed. So it’s no wonder how they feel."

Many of them nodded their heads in agreement.

"And here we stand, still alive, still fighting. We are what broke all who came before them, and now they face us? They aren't to be feared. The Krys soldier is nothing better than you. He fights without thought or conviction. He fights because he is told to. You fight because it is your duty, and don't you forget it!"

He looked to Jones who still shook his head, but he continued anyway.

"We can beat these bastards! You can beat them. Run them into the ground and finish this once and for all. Erdogan and his armies are all that stands between the peace we have fought so hard for. Let's not give in at the final hurdle!"

He looked back over the wall. The Mech forces we advancing rapidly now, and the gun towers were taking aim and preparing to fire.

"Do not fear death, for it will come to us all one day. Fear defeat! Are you ready to beat these alien bastards?"

Cheers rang out across the line as the gun emplacements opened fire. He didn't need to say another word as troops rushed to the walls to take up positions. The multi-layered platforms gave them three battlements, and Taylor stood atop the highest. Only Jafar stood taller two metres to his side. Taylor gestured for him to come closer, and he quickly obliged. Jafar looked calmer than any of them.

"No bombardment, an immediate assault? Why would they do that?" Taylor asked him.

"Because they are confident of victory," he quickly replied, without pausing for thought.

"They think they're gonna just roll over us?"

Jafar nodded.

"Well, they're welcome to think it, but we ain't going down without a fight."

"So you would die rather than admit defeat? And yet you always ask me why Mech warriors advance without care or caution or regard for their lives. You seem surprised their morale is so hard to break, when you encourage the same in those you command."

Taylor had to think about it for a moment. What he said made perfect sense, and yet it had never occurred to him before. He looked back at the enemy troops advancing. Many were carrying large shields, not unlike they themselves used.

"This Erdogan, he isn't like our enemies of the past. He is not blindly arrogant."

"No," Jafar agreed.

"He's justifiably arrogant," Taylor added with a smirk.

He took aim with his rifle and watched as the first web rounds launched off from nearby marksmen. He was out of the ammunition himself, so simply left others to it. He stopped for another moment and looked at the spectacle before him. Mech warriors advanced in loose formations. Many clung to hovering armoured vehicles that were spaced ten metres or more apart and mixed among them. Their advance against the walls of Baltimore appeared archaic in tactics, and yet there they were, still moving forward.

"Fire at will!" he shouted.

He knew they would anyway. Not one of them could stand and do nothing as the weight of a Mech army bore down on them. He took aim at the nearest creature. It bore a large shield like he had seen on the Mechs aboard the Earth Defence Grid. He squeezed the trigger and watched as his shot ricocheted off the corner of the door-sized shield. He shook his head and fired off two more shots, but both seemed to have little effect.

"That's gonna be a problem."

An automatic grenade launcher spun into action on a tower to his left flank. Explosions began rippling through the advancing enemy, tossing Mechs into the air and ripping through the rear armour of many of the shield bearers. A fixed gun on the wall to his right, which was a large Reitech fixed emplacement gun, joined the fight. Its rate of fire was as slow as a steady heartbeat, but each shot tore apart the shields it struck and punched holes in the vehicles they were sheltering beside.

"More like it."

He caught sight of a few Mechs without shields and quickly opened fire, cutting down one with a burst from his rifle. The weight of gunfire hammered the enemy like a torrential downpour. Their lines were being thinned, but they kept coming.

"We need to upgun!"

"No shit," replied Jones sarcastically.

They kept up the fire as the enemy closed half a kilometre on them. There seemed no way of stopping them besides the physical barricade itself.

"What are they thinking?"

"They must have some way in," Jones answered.

Pulses soared over their heads, and some pounded into the walls close to them, but had little effect against the hard cover they were protected by. The Mechs were just two hundred metres away now, and the hovering vehicles among them began to speed up and make a break towards the wall.

"What the hell?" Taylor asked.

Gun turrets atop each of the vehicles continued to fire at the battlements with little effect other than keeping heads down.

"Where are they going?"

"They aren't coming over the wall. They're going through it!" Jones shouted, "Take them out!"

Scores of troops opened fire on the vehicles. As one of the towers opened up, it tore one apart, and it ignited into a raging fire, but it was too late for the rest. Taylor watched in horror as three-metre wide corkscrew-like drills deployed at the front of the vehicles, ready for impact.

"Oh, shit!"

It was too late. They felt the impact as one of the skimmers smashed into the wall at the very base below them. Taylor and several others lost their footing and crashed against the barricade. As Taylor regained his faculties, he could make out the ear splitting sound of drilling beneath them for twenty seconds, and then it stopped. He looked to Jones who stared at him, waiting with suspicion.

The two of them looked over the edge in towards the city, confused. It had gone quiet along the walls. A soldier nearby began to laugh. "They can't get through!" He jumped up onto the top of the rampart and screamed, "Fuck you, you failed!" Jones shook his head.

"This was no accident...they're..."

He was cut off by a massive explosion further down the line, which shook the foundations of the wall and sent huge chunks of concrete hurtling into the air.

"It's gonna blow!" Jones shouted.

He grabbed Taylor, and they rushed to the edge of the rampart, jumping as the explosion erupted in the wall below them. The blast launched them twenty metres through the air. As they hit the ground, Taylor rolled over and saw a five-metre chunk of concrete fly past his head, missing him by only half a metre. He was stunned by the impact, but his suit had at least slowed his descent and broken his fall. He was sitting on the ground before two layers of the fortress that was Baltimore. His shield and rifle were gone, and he looked out to where the wall had been. The area was engulfed in a ball of dust and smoke.

Through the smoke came silhouettes, and they were not human.