Battle Earth VIII

Chapter 7

Taylor awoke to a hammering on his door, causing him to leap from his bed and grab his sidearm. He rushed to the door wearing nothing but his underwear and saw Eli readying her rifle.

"Who is it?" he shouted.

"Silva!"

Taylor ripped open the door and thrust his pistol out in the face of the Sergeant Major.

"Whoa, whoa, it really is me," he complained.

Taylor looked around suspiciously outside the door before lowering his pistol.

"What is it?"

"It worked!" he said excitedly.

"What d'ya mean?"

"A Marine regiment has departed the United States to pledge allegiance to you personally, and more are sure to follow. The government hasn't been able to stop them!"

Taylor rubbed his eyes, trying to work out if he was dreaming.

"All right, give me a minute. I'll be with you shortly."

He shut the door and reached for his clothes.

"If the President wasn't pissed enough with you before, he certainly will be now," said Parker.

"So what? My job isn't to make friends and kiss ass. It's to win this war through whatever means necessary."

"Job? Are you being paid?"

He shook his head.

"Okay, it's my duty, my calling, whatever you want to call it. Hardly a time to worry about money."

"No, not when your head can get removed from your shoulders at any moment from even those close to you."

"What are you saying?"

"You need to be careful, Mitch. You may be making a lot of friends right now, but probably just as many enemies."

"Well then, you'll have to have my back, won't you?"

"Always."

He pulled on his boots and was out the door, leaving her still getting dressed.

"Way to go, Colonel!"

It was a passing soldier he'd never seen before in his life. He nodded in acknowledgement and continued on when he caught sight of a few objects in the sky. They appeared to be drones. He jumped to the nearest wall for cover and then peered around for a better look. They were drones all right, but they appeared to carry no weapons and were hovering over a drill square a hundred metres away. Out of curiosity, he made his way towards them, despite being naturally suspicious.

He took a bend and found Reiter and a few of his team standing around a pile of equipment. Acosta stood watching them. The Private noticed his arrival and beckoned for him to come forward.

"They've done it, built my idea."

Taylor looked down to see a typical Reitech rifle on a table. It appeared to be nothing out of the ordinary.

"Does it work?"

"Initial tests have been positive. We do not have any operational combat drones, so we use video surveillance models instead. The results should be near identical. Would you like to do the honours, Colonel? " Reiter answered.

"What do I do?"

"That rifle you see there is exactly as it would appear. Initially, we developed a concept weapon from the revolving launchers used in the first war, but we are well aware the carrying of additional weaponry is not ideal simply to deal with a particular target. So we redesigned the projectile so that it could be used in the current Reitech rifle. This reduces the spread of the weapon slightly, due to the calibre of the weapon, but I think you will find the results quite pleasing."

Reiter flipped open a box lying on the table. It was full of ammunition and the rounds like nothing he had seen before. The same length and diameter he was used to, but with dozens of small steel rods around the diameter of the head of the round, and initially appeared to be hollow in the centre. He pushed his finger into the hollow area, and it was actually filled with a super fine grade steel mesh.

"The metal tips disperse the round as the projectile gains velocity," said Reiter. "The mesh is exceptionally strong for its size and weight, in what can only be described as being like a spider’s web. Hence the name we have been calling them, web ammunition, or web rounds if you like."

Taylor looked at the ammunition in amazement and then to Acosta.

"Your idea really did work."

"See for yourself, Colonel," he replied.

Taylor drew back the breech on the rifle and loaded a single round manually without need of a magazine. He turned and looked up at the drones that were spaced out five metres apart. He was dubious it could work, but he had faith in Reiter. He took aim and squeezed the trigger. It sounded like a half-powered round due to the low velocity. He watched in amazement as the web opened up, engulfed the first drone, and continued on to catch one behind it and then plummet to the ground.

"Well, I'll be damned."

He put the rifle down and carried on over to see the results. The two drones were completely wrapped in the web and lifeless. One was smashed and in multiple pieces.

"So this will destroy them outright?"

"It would depend on the strength of the drone in question and the height at which it is struck. The web rounds mean the drone cannot use any stabilisation to recover itself and does land hard. With any luck, the impact will be enough to destroy the subject. The worst case is that it remains incapacitated on the ground, and therefore an easy target for you to finish off."

"It's amazing. Amazing in its simplicity."

"I can take credit for the application of the idea, but not the concept itself. That belongs to Private Acosta here, who is far smarter than it would first appear."

"We need these rounds ASAP. How quickly can you get them into production?"

"If you are happy with them as is, I can get maybe a small test batch done by tomorrow, maybe one or two hundred. Getting them into mass production may take a few weeks at least."

"Then do it. These web rounds will save a lot of lives. Make as many as you can, and get them to my Regiment immediately."

Reiter nodded in agreement and began packing away the gear to go about his work. Just as Taylor turned back to Acosta to congratulate him, his comms channel opened. Dupont was on the line.

"Colonel, report to me immediately,"

This doesn't sound good.

When Taylor got to the General's war room, he found it packed with other officers standing around a projection of Europe and all known positions of forces, both friendly and enemy.

"Colonel, your little video stunt has caused quite a stir. And while I hear rumours of whole regiments heading our way to join us, it has stirred up trouble on the frontline. Your message to the World has brought your United States ever closer to joining this war, and that has clearly led the UEN to respond. They have launched a new offensive, a new push, all the way from east of here down to the Mediterranean. It is clear they intend to end this while other nations still contemplate which side of the fence to leap."

"How bad is it?"

"Bad. They have broken through our lines at three points so far, and I don't have to tell you how far our forces are stretched. The war is being fought in every country that’s joined the Alliance. We are losing ground at every turn. I know you are recently returned from one mission, but I am afraid I have to send you on another."

"That's what I'm here for."

"Good. I know you have gained some strength recently, and you'll need it. I am sending you to Arras in the north. It is vital our flanks are defended."

Taylor studied the map.

"Arras, that's what, a hundred and fifty klicks from here?" he asked, sounding concerned.

Dupont sighed as he nodded.

"They are almost at the city."

Taylor shook his head.

"What is it, Colonel?"

"Why France? It started here, and it seems no matter where we go and what we do, I always end up back here."

"Yes, I am sorry to say my fair country has become the epicentre of the struggle for the World’s freedom."

"When do you want us to leave?"

"Now, time is everything."

Taylor knew what he had to do. He casually saluted, walked out the room, and tapped his comms unit. "Inter-Allied, form up and prepare to move out."

By the time he had gathered his own equipment and got back to the hangar that had become their home, the entire Regiment was formed up with Jones at their forefront. The Rangers’ ship was set in the background, and a line of copters in front. Taylor passed Rains. He was airbrushing an American flag onto the side of a well-used copter in French markings.

"See, no matter what, you always find another girl."

"Yeah, thanks," he replied sarcastically.

Taylor stopped before the troops and could see he now commanded over three hundred.

Enough to raise all kinds of hell, he thought.

"Listen up! The UEN is making advances west and covering some serious ground. I have heard, just as all you have, that elements within the US military are heading this way to help us out. That may be true. It may be bullshit. All we know for certain is that to the east the enemy is gaining ground, and General Dupont is deploying us to the northeast to stop them. We are but a few hundred in a war of millions, but let us never forget we have always punched above our weight!"

A cheer rang out.

"In the past, we have fought against Mechs; a faceless and fearsome enemy which none of you would hesitate to put down. Now we fight both Mechs and humans. Some of those humans may be Krys as well, but none of that matters. All you need to know is they are the enemy, and it your job to kill the sons of bitches before they kill you. We've got to win this war, for a far greater one is on the way. Let's do this right. Coordinates and map data have been sent to flight crews, officers, and NCOs. Load up, and good luck to you all!"

Taylor joined Jones who was heading for Rains’ copter.

"You know that idea Acosta had for ammunition to take down the aerial drones I told you about?"

"Yes."

"Well, amazingly they work."

"We taking them with us?"

He shook his head.

"Had we been able to wait a day, maybe, but time is not on our side."

"Then I guess we just hope not to meet them."

As he said it, Taylor already knew they would, but fretting over it did no one any good now. Five minutes later, they were lifting off and heading for their new destination. It would be a short journey. After twenty minutes, they felt the copter rock and Rains’ voice.

"Incoming fire!"

"I thought they hadn't reached the city yet?" asked Jones.

"That's what I was told!" replied Taylor.

He rushed forward to the cockpit. Missiles were zipping in and out of the craft as they were carried away and ignited by the defence systems of the Rangers’ advanced vessel.

"That's a hell of thing!"

"But it can't last, Eddie."

He opened a channel.

"We can't stick this out. Everyone out now, jump, jump, jump!"

Jones ripped open the door and was out before he could even pass on new orders to Rains.

"Put down somewhere safe a few klicks west and look after yourselves!"

Taylor rushed to the door as the last two aboard jumped, and he followed suit. As he hit the open air, he saw a terrifying sight. A swarm of drones were coming for them.

"Oh, shit, no!"

He lifted his shield as he continued to descend, raising his rifle using the targeter on his helmet. A shot bounced from the shield as he did so, and he returned fire with a burst at the nearest target. The last shot he fired clipped the edge of one of the rotors and sent the drone barrelling out of control. He watched it smashed over a shield of one of the troops below him.

As he fired at another target, the swarm passed through them, and he knew they were in trouble. There was nothing the copters or larger vessels could do. As one passed close to Taylor, he swung his rifle out and smashed it hard so that it burst into a dozen pieces. He felt an impact on the backplate of his armour. One of the drones strafed him. Another shot hit one of the thrusters on his legs, and he started to plummet to the ground.

Taylor looked down. He was approaching the roof of a three-storey building at a speed he probably couldn't survive. Just when he thought he was done for, he felt an impact; Jones had got a hold of his side. It slowed their descent a little, but it wasn't enough.

"Oh shit!" was all Taylor had time to scream.

The two of them struck the rooftop and burst through it with little resistance, striking the floor below, through that and the next one down again. They then hit water with a thunderous splash. Taylor just about felt his back knock into the bed of water before coming to the surface and gasping for air. He looked around and saw they had landed in a swimming baths.

"Jones!"

The Captain surfaced a few metres from him and looked around, surprised as he was. Taylor began laughing at the ridiculousness of the situation, and Jones could not help but join in, both realising how lucky they were to be alive.

"What are the odds?" asked Taylor.

"Luck just seems to follow you, you crazy bastard!"

They were clambering out of the pool when Silva rushed in through a side door with Acosta close beside him. They looked up at the huge hole in the ceiling and then at the pool. They were speechless.

"What, never seen a wet marine?" Taylor laughed.

Silva at least managed a smile as they rushed out onto the street and found a few dozen of their unit dug in.

"What's our situation?"

As Taylor said it, a column of drones flew into the street. Everyone in sight opened fire. Their targets were at least easier to track when they had little room to manoeuvre in the narrow gaps between buildings.

"Fuckers," muttered Taylor. He raised his rifle and fired a burst into one of the drones until it crashed through a window of a nearby building. As the rest carried on taking the targets down, he turned to Silva.

"We're scattered across town," replied Silva.

"Any sign of the local forces?"

"There's fighting to the east, certainly. I'd say they're cut off, or they'd be running this way right about now."

"All units advance east, sweep and clear!" he called down the comm.

Taylor led the way and took a bend to a quiet street that seemed untouched by the fighting. He crossed on over to a narrow alley which led on to the parallel street. There he found a dozen French soldiers retreating towards them. They initially raised their weapons to fire but recognised them as friendly. Taylor grabbed one who had Corporal’s stripes.

"What's the situation up there?"

"Lost," the man replied faintly.

Taylor could see the hopeless expression in his eyes. They were covered in dirt, and he had blood on him that clearly wasn't his.

"You still got people fighting out there?"

The Corporal nodded. Taylor wiped away grime on his uniform and saw a name tag that read Roux.

"Then what are you doing running this way, Corporal Roux? Your comrades need you."

"We can't stop them. We can't fight them. It's over."

"It's not over. You know why?"

The man shook his head.

"Because I am Colonel Mitch Taylor of the Immortals, and I say it ain't over, you got me?"

The Corporal’s eyes flared up a little on hearing the name. He saw the nametag and rank on Taylor, which confirmed it.

"You're here? Here to fight with us?" he asked, perking up.

"That's right. I always was, and I always will be. Now you got some boys who need some help out there, and we're gonna give it to them together, aren't we?"

He turned back to the others with him. "You heard him. We've got the Immortals with us. Nothing can stop us now."

"Then lead on!" Taylor ordered.

He carried on at the front with the Corporal, whose platoon was now mixed with the ragtag group of Inter-Allied Taylor had landed with. It was far from the 'cavalry coming to the rescue' scenario he had been expecting, but the only move was to continue onwards. The gunfire was getting louder, and he knew they were in the right place. Explosions ignited as big guns pounded the area. He wondered where the air support was. As he did, he heard an explosion above and saw a fighter burst into flames; a surface-to-air device knocked it out of the sky.

Ground warfare. It has come down to this once again.

Taylor never liked his time in space, but he at least appreciated the fact that any fighting they did up there was kept away from Earth soil. He longed for that once again. They passed across another street and heard a loud voice.

"Hold it right there!"

They couldn't tell where it had come from and immediately went to ground.

"Identify yourselves!"

"Colonel Taylor, Inter-Allied!"

"Yeah right, who are you really?"

Taylor lowered his weapon and got up."

"What are you doing?" Silva shouted.

He ignored the Sergeant Major and strode forward as if without a concern in the world.

"I am Colonel Taylor, and I am here to save your asses!" he responded defiantly.

Suddenly a head popped up from between the debris of a building, and two soldiers stepped out.

"No, can't be."

"What, you thought we were just a myth?"

Before they could answer him a shell landed on the building above.

"Cover!"

They went to ground as chunks of concrete landed all around. He got up and spat out the concrete dust he had become so familiar with in urban combat.

"Yes, it's me. I'm here. Now what can we do to help?"

He could not see rank on either of the French soldiers, and they looked utterly baffled to be asked such a thing by an officer.

"We are rear guard to Captain Anders. She's dug in two blocks ahead. They're giving us hell, Sir. I don't know how long we can hold."

"Don't you worry; you stay put, and if you see any more of our unit, you send them my way, okay? We got scattered on the drop."

"Yes, Sir."

They carried on past the two soldiers who still looked just as baffled as when they first arrived.

"Think it's wise throwing your name about so much?" asked Jones.

"Why?"

"You're a big target."

"That ain't gonna change, and I’m not hiding from any bastard who wants to kill me."

Jones respected that and did not push the matter. They came through a clearing and found a line of buildings that had been gutted by artillery and were now being used for cover by a line of troops. They were clearly the frontline.

"Who's in charge here?" Taylor shouted.

A female officer beckoned for him to cross the road and join him.

"Captain Anders, I presume?"

"Yes, about time you got here. We need support, and we needed it hours ago. How many are you?"

She appeared to have no regard for his rank, and that tickled him a little.

"About three hundred."

"Three hundred? Christ, we need thousands not hundreds. We need an army!"

"Yeah, well, you got me. What's your situation?"

"Situation sucks. North is holding at the old defences and should do for some time, but the centre here is under increasing pressure, and half a klick to the south isn't going to hold for much longer."

"What are you facing?"

"Armour, infantry, Mechs. About the only thing we are safe from is the air because anything that comes across the city gets blown out the sky from one side or the other."

"And combat drones?"

"Yes, those too. We were hit by a wave just twenty minutes ago, but they peeled off west."

"That was our welcoming party."

"Then I am sorry, but we could do little to stop them."

"We're working on that."

"Well, I hope you work faster, or neither of us may live long enough to see the results."

They heard the noise of steps and turned to see dozens of Taylor's troops pour into the street.

Thank Christ for that, he thought.

"We'll head a little south and bolster the defences there. I don't know if we're getting much more support if any, Captain, but we have to hold."

"Those are just words, Colonel. We'll give everything we can to hold here, but if it cannot be done, it cannot be done."

"Don't ever say that, Captain!" he shouted for all to hear. "When a fighter says something cannot be done, they only set themselves up to fail. It can be done, and will be done, you got that?"

She looked sheepish but responded loudly, "Yes, Sir!"

Taylor carried on running down the line of crippled buildings. Medics carried the wounded out between the rubble as they passed. It was all too familiar for Taylor. The scene along the lines was the same until they reached the point at which Anders had said was hit the worst. They passed a crater where the bodies of six soldiers lay, and nobody had been able to move as they dealt with the wounded. An ambulance lay crashed and burned in the side of a nearby building, and mechanical mules carried out some of the wounded.

"This ain't good," he muttered to himself. It was the understatement of the century, and Jones had heard it, too.

"Look at them. They can't stick this out for long," he replied.

"We need to take up the slack fast, or they'll falter."

He rushed in to the nearest hole looking out across the battlefield. From there he could see a line of Mechs advancing and firing as they did. He didn't voice a single command to his unit; they all knew what to do. He took careful aim and double tapped one of the Mechs through its faceplate. It died instantly, but three of its comrades quickly returned fire his way, forcing him to duck back down as the shots rushed through the gaping hole and struck the road behind him.

Taylor peered around the corner and could see the burning wrecks of enemy vehicles that had been taken out, and as many Mech bodies as there were humans they fought beside. Even as he admired the hard work their allies had done, a new column of armoured vehicles was arriving.

"Where are they getting all this armour?" Jones asked.

"Most of the stuff left over after the last war wasn't in France, was it?"

Jones sighed. "Well, that's just great!" he replied and fired a few more shots before ducking back.

"Any ideas on our losses from the drones?"

Jones shook his head. "Whatever they are, it could have been a lot worse."

Worse?

It was initially hard to fathom, but then he thought back to how many situations they had been through where the death around them had been a constant week after week.

"RATs! Deploy the RATs!"

The armoured column head across the ground, smashing their way through wrecks and having to drive over the bodies of many who had fallen. The guns fired on the move and pounded their positions as most of the defenders took cover. The first RAT launcher fired and bounced as its target turned and glanced the shot off its hull.

"Fuck, fuck, take them out!" yelled Taylor.

The second fired, and the same tank was blown apart. Cheers rang out across the line as a volley of the launchers fired and another four vehicles were knocked out, and the rest began to fall back.

"We held? We held!" Silva shouted.

It was a surprise to Taylor as well, and he got up to survey the scene. The enemy casualties were horrific, but he looked back to the obliterated street they had fought from, seeing just how few defenders remained. There were only a handful of casualties from Inter-Allied. They now had more in number than the Regiment initially deployed to defend the city. He looked around for his closest friends and found Parker attending to a casualty.

"That was good timing," stated Jones.

"My timing is always impeccable, is it not? Stay put and do what you can to get the wounded out of here," he added.

Taylor retraced his steps to Anders. She was lying sprawled out against a pile of debris. For a moment, he thought she was wounded, but she turned to face him as he approached. She looked exhausted, both physically and mentally.

"I don't know how much more of this I can take," she whispered as he grew nearer.

"You'll do just fine. Are you in charge here?"

She nodded. "Nobody else left for the job. Only officers who aren't dead, wounded, or missing is the Lieutenant over there and myself."

"You've done a hell of a job to keep it together."

He could tell it meant a lot to her, but she tried to pretend it didn't.

Before he could carry on, he looked down at a small light flashing on the display of the Mappad on his arm. It was an incoming call. He quickly tapped to answer and found Dupont before him once again.

"Taylor, how are things there?"

"Bad."

"They are all over. At least you haven't given any ground. The south is faring much worse. Can you redeploy to assist down there?"

"I don't think so, Sir. Not much left to defend this city, bar a few stragglers. Without us, it won't hold."

"That's not the kind of news I need."

"Tell me about it."

"Can anyone else hear this?"

"Affirmative."

He got the message and walked over to a quiet spot.

"You can talk freely now, Sir."

"The honest truth, Taylor, is that we are in trouble. Big trouble. We're stretched thin, and the UEN just keep hitting us. The Mechs are what are making the difference. They're advancing and taking ground without any fear. Their losses are high. We keep knocking 'em down, but more come right back at us."

"Well aware of that, Sir," he replied, thinking it was strange it even needed saying, considering he was on the frontline and witnessing it with his own eyes.

"What do you want me to do?"

"Stay put, do what you're doing. I'll see what I can do in the south."

The communication cut off, and he strolled back to the Captain.

"Something wrong?" she asked.

"Nothing you don't already know. Keep your chin up, Captain. Think like a winner."

He carried on back to Jones. Most of the casualties were gone or being moved as he approached. Taylor slumped down beside him and reloaded his rifle.

"Any news?"

"Nothing good, Charlie."

"Well, what is it?"

"South is taking a beating. Dupont wanted us to head down there and help."

"We can't leave here. It'll fall before we even get to the south."

"That's what I told him."

Jones shook his head, and as he so frequently did when there was a lull in the fighting, drew out his small stove to brew up. Taylor couldn't help but laugh; as he was reminded of the last time he had seen Grey do the same.

"What's so funny?"

"Ah, nothing, nice to see some things never change."

Jones carried on making his brew when Taylor finally asked what he'd been meaning to for a while.

"Any news on Dubois?"

He nodded. "She's gonna make it, but she won't be joining the fight anytime soon."

"Good, she's been through enough."

"Haven't we all?"

As he watched Jones prepare his tea in his ritualistic fashion, they suddenly became aware how quiet the scene was. Gone were the sound of tracked vehicles, of explosions and screaming wounded. There was barely a sound left. Every single boot step could be heard for thirty metres around, and despite being in the middle of a warzone, Taylor felt calm and relaxed, even peaceful.

"Strange isn't it?" he asked.

"What's that?"

"How quiet it is out there."

"Yes, but don't get too used to it. It won't last."

He was right. There seemed little hope of holding the UEN back. Now all he could hope was that his appeal to the World's population would make a difference.