Battle Earth X

Chapter 10

Taylor stepped into Huber's private quarters and saluted.

"Come in and sit down, Colonel."

"Yes, Sir."

"I have reviewed your report. Your conclusion is that the fleet is now free of all enemy presence?"

"I have been as thorough as is humanly possible, Sir."

"A number of the ships’ Captains are asking for a guarantee that we are free of them. Can you give it?"

"No, Sir, but I can ensure you that we have done, and continue to do, everything in our power to ensure the safety of the fleet."

Huber took a deep breath.

"That's what I told them. I told them there are no guarantees in war, but still they ask."

"Then give them the guarantee, Sir."

"But you said you cannot give it."

"No, I can't, but that doesn't mean you can't say it. Sometimes people just want to be told what they want to hear. And sometimes it is best to do so."

Huber shook his head as he poured himself a whisky and then another for Taylor.

"You've had to play the politician for too long."

"Not of my choosing, Sir. But if it takes one slight exaggeration to calm the Captains of the fleet, so be it. What we need more than anything else right now is calm and clear thinking."

Huber nodded.

"You said you wanted to scout this system?" Huber asked as a rather open ended question that he was looking for an expanded answer.

"Yes, Sir. It’s all very well that the fleet continues onwards, but we have many vessels in the fleet far faster than our average. Ships that could travel far and wide as we carry on our course."

"And you think it is safe to do so, to send out smaller scouting parties? Parties who will likely be too weak to take on any serious threat alone. Still too slow to outrun it, and all at the same time weakening our defence of the fleet?"

"Everything we do is a risk, Sir, and not making use of all our resources could mean us never finding new worlds and new mineable areas. To do this would spread our forces, but there is no safe option."

"Okay."

Taylor looked surprised. "Okay? You'll do it, Sir?"

Huber nodded.

"What the hell? Seems as good an idea as any. It's certainly true we need to know what we're dealing with wherever we are. I'll organise six frigates to send out in all directions, along with support fighters and such."

"Might I recommend a solid Marine detachment aboard each of the vessels, Sir?"

"Yes, but you will not be with them. Your place is here, Taylor. You are a good fighter, but out in the field that is all you can be. One man."

"Excuse me, Sir, but I believe my value in combat amounts to more than the sum of a single marine."

"Yes, yes. I don't mean to insult you, Colonel. However, your leadership skills and command are far more valuable to me than your individual fighting skills. Better still, I like to know I have my best man at my side on my ship when the shit hits the fan. So there it is. I'll organise the ships. You see to it that their Marine detachments are well equipped and of good number. But you may not allocate your own people, or any of the marines aboard this ship to this endeavour, do you hear?"

"Aye, aye, Sir."

"Then drink up, Colonel, you have work to do. I have already assembled the frigate Captains via commlink in operations room B. They await your arrival."

It was then Taylor realised he wasn't being asked his opinion on anything. He had been brought there to be given his orders. It had just been disguised as a pleasant chat and a drink with an inquest into his thoughts.

"Yes, Sir," he replied.

He got up, left, and went straight to the operations room as ordered where he found the projections of the Captains displayed at modules placed on the table in front of six of the seats. He did not recognise a single one of them, but he could see Huber had selected them from various different navies.

Wise move, he thought, after seeing how close they came to fighting each other so recently.

"I assume Admiral Huber has already briefed you on your missions?"

They all nodded in agreement.

"And you have designated areas plotted already?"

They agreed again.

"Then I am here merely to arrange Marine detachments for all of your vessels."

"We already have marines aboard," one of them said.

Taylor didn't even bother asking his name. He just went right into his response.

"The Lo Yang had marines, brave men and women who went into combat without hesitation. Barely a single one of them survived the fighting aboard the barge yesterday. Those who survived made it because experienced and well-equipped marines saved their asses. Now I don't know a single one of you, but that doesn't mean I have no care for you and your crews. Right now, if you get boarded by any number of enemy hostiles, you can be pretty damn sure you won't survive the experience. I am here to make sure we don't lose any more ships, and we don't lose any more people. Admiral Huber has given me full command and authority to equip and assign the Marine detachments to your vessels, and you will abide by my ruling. Have you got that?"

They agreed, but he could see none of them liked it, so he went on.

"I am not trying to pick a fight with any of you. I am not here to assert my authority and try and take charge of the situation. I want to see you live through this mission, is it that too much to ask for?"

Still nobody said a word, but they were starting to come over to his point of view.

"Good. I will have your Marine detachments and additional equipment for your own personnel despatched to you by 0700 hours tomorrow so that you may depart at 0900, as per Admiral Huber's orders. Thank you, that will be all."

He got up and left without waiting for a response. He didn't like having to organise the mission without going out there himself. His first thought would have been to allocate his own officers and personnel to some of the ships, but he could not do that either. He knew he had to find others he could trust.

Taylor put a call through on the Mappad device on his arm. A moment later, Major Moye answered.

"What can I do for you, Colonel?"

"I need your help."

"Just say when and where."

* * *

Kelly's truck rolled into the hangar bay at Drachenburg, with Becker on the back of the truck bed, to an excited crowd who cheered as they came to a standstill. Two hundred of the people were there to greet them and clapped and whistled as they got out. Kelly couldn't believe what he was seeing. It was more joy and celebration than he had seen since the last war had ended.

"What are they so excited about?" Becker asked as Kelly climbed up onto the truck bed beside him.

"We just gave them something new in their lives beyond fear of death."

"What?"

"The chance of victory."

"Victory? We can never win."

"The war maybe, but we can win many battles. And everyone of them is reason to celebrate!"

He raised his hand to call for silence, and after nearly another minute of cheering, they slowly died down and listened.

"Today we destroyed two Krys ships and fourteen of their Mechs, to the loss of nothing more on our side than the roof of my truck!" he jested.

It brought some laughter, a rare and pleasant sight over the last few days.

"The enemy isn't invulnerable. They can be killed, they can be beaten, and they can feel fear. And that is what I intend to do. I want their soldiers to fear ever leaving their bases, for the chance they might run into us!"

More cheers rang out.

"Today's work is over. Well done to you all. We do this bit by bit. No grinding war that is always on our doorsteps. We fight them when and where we want, and then we celebrate our victories together!"

He jumped down from the truck and fought his way through the crowds to another truck covered over with a sheet. The crowd watched his every move and did not know what to expect.

"You all did well today. Now let's celebrate this victory, and every one that is to follow!"

He tugged at the sheet. It slid off and revealed a box truck with the rear door open. It was stuffed to the roof with alcohol.

"No way," said Becker.

"Dig in!" Kelly ordered.

The crowd went wild as he forced through, took a crate of beer, and fought his way back to Becker.

"You brought that with you?"

"A few of my boys did. I told them to gather all available vehicles. They gathered the delivery truck for the local bars. Just so happened it was out for delivery."

Becker laughed and Kelly passed him a bottle.

"This is hardly soldierly discipline," a voice said.

Kelly turned to see Corporal Berlin was standing behind him.

"No, it isn't. Times change. Look at these people," he said, "They need something to cling on to. They need some good in their lives. If getting slaughtered after doing some slaughtering keeps them going, then so be it."

He passed her a beer, and it was hard for her to refuse; she was starting to see his point.

"What are we now, Sir?"

"What do you mean, Becker?"

"Well, look at us. Tankers. We're a mix of forces of the Bundeswehr, retired Moon Defence Force, and there are a few others I don't even know who the hell they are. We have no command structure left, no Generals or leaders. What are we?"

"It is true we need an identity," Berlin joined in.

"Then we will make one. This place is what has brought us together," said Kelly. "The Drachenburg. Dragon Mountain, is it?"

"Something like that," replied Becker.

"Each one of these bunkers was named after a Schloss."

"So there are more like it?" Berlin asked.

"There are, but for the sake of security, I only ever knew of one. But you can be sure that wherever those other bunkers are, there are people like us keeping this fight going."

It was a heart-warming thought.

"So who are we now? Are we not the dragons in this mountain?"

Becker laughed.

"It's a little corny, don't you think?"

"More than a little," Berlin laughed.

"Yes it is, and maybe it's just what we need."

He climbed back onto the truck.

"Quiet! Everyone listen to me!"

They quickly calmed down but continued dragging out bottles from the truck.

"We are a community now! We are an army. Whatever we used to be. Wherever you used to call home, and whatever nationality you were, it doesn't matter anymore! Now we are brothers in arms. This is the Drachenburg, and we are the dragons of the mountain. Henceforth it is what we will call ourselves! We prowl these mountains. We stalk our prey. We are fire-breathing monsters. You all feared the aliens when they first arrived, as did I. They were terrifying creatures of immense power. Today we killed fourteen, without as much as a single shot fired in return. We are the monsters now. We are the creatures they will fear. We are the Dragons!"

The crowd cheered, and Becker shook his head at how absurd it sounded.

"You're pandering to the mob," he muttered.

"Yes I am," he replied without hesitation, "and isn't it exactly what they needed?"

It was hard for Becker to disagree, but he still smirked at the prospect. "Dragons? It's funny. Taylor would laugh if he were here, too."

"Perhaps, and yet he calls his comrades the Immortals. Is it any less pretentious?"

"No, but that was a name bestowed on them by others, and so they can rightfully continue to use it."

"Yeah, well, there isn't anyone left to praise our people’s achievements, so we must do so ourselves."

"That's true," replied Becker cynically, "You're our leader now, Kelly. Any doubts I had have long been cast aside. I will call you Commander, and I will follow you to the very end."

"Just know that I didn't want this, Captain. I do this because I have to, and somehow it's worked out this far."

"You're a born leader, Sir, and I'd be a fool to pass up on that skill."

They turned back to look at the party that had started. Many of the others from the bunker had heard of the truck of beer and rushed to join in. Some were dancing like fools, and others embroiled in conversation as if it were any other day.

"Today was a great day. We couldn't ask for more. We achieved success without any cost," said Kelly, "Most days won't be this good, but let them enjoy it. And let's be certain to keep the stocks of beer high. We are going to ask a lot of our people over the coming days and weeks. They need to know they have something to look forward to. Something worth coming back for."

"And beer is worth coming back for?"

"It's not the beer that does it. It's this, this spirit, this excitement, and enthusiasm. Knowing the beer is here just reminds them where the party is."

* * *

Taylor stood on the deck of the Washington's loading bays. Before him was Major Moye and his people, as well as a number of other troops he had inducted into his ranks. It was just a small portion of the marines being assembled throughout the fleet. Taylor climbed up onto a storage box to address them.

"You all know what your mission is. I would be out there with you myself, were it not for the Admiral's express orders. With any luck, it'll be a walk in the park, a few days or weeks of moping about a ship with no excitement at all. Take the opportunity you have when not on duty to get what rest you can. You need it and you've earned it. But always remember, your job is to ensure the safety of the ship you are aboard. And to that end, stay sharp, and good luck!"

Taylor stepped down and went straight to Moye and shook his hand.

"Thanks for thinking of me, Colonel."

"Not like I had a lot of options, Major. Besides, in my own Regiment, you're the only officer I could trust."

"There'll be more. Give it time. Do you believe there is any chance of us finding a habitable planet?"

Taylor shook his head.

"I'd say absolutely zero. I figure this will be the first of a countless number of similar missions over the years to come. But who knows? Stranger things have happened."

"They certainly have."

"Good luck, Major."

Moye saluted, turned back to his people, and ordered them aboard the transports. Taylor wanted nothing more than to go with them. Despite not expecting them to find what they were looking for, it was highly likely they’d find trouble.

"They'll be okay," a voice said behind him. He recognized it as Parker and turned quickly to look upon her with his own eyes.

"You know I don't like sending others to do the dirty work," he replied.

"What now?"

"Right now I only have two priorities. Scouting the system is something that is out of my hands, so I turn to the other. Filling the ranks of the Regiment. How is recruitment going?"

"Better, but far from great."

"How many recruits do you now have in training?"

"I accepted thirty-five, but seven dropped out in the first day. I'm wondering if we should even give them the choice of quitting."

"Yes, we must. If they aren't committed, then they aren't worth having. I will not have reluctant personnel in my Regiment. If you sign up with me, you're in till death or absolute victory."

"And if they don't believe the latter is an option?"

"Then we’d better ensure we have a good death."

"Is there such a thing?"

Taylor nodded. "Damn right there is, now, about this training. You're still in charge of recruitment, but seeing as I have nothing else of importance to do, I will be overseeing the process and getting involved at every stage. I want to know we are getting good people and that they have the best training. Show me how you're progressing with them.

"Mitch, their time is their own."

"No, they belong to us now. Until such time as they quit or flunk out, their time is ours to do with as we please. Let's go."

Parker led him towards the bunkroom where they were now living.

"All the recruits I've taken on so far are from the Detroit."

"The Detroit?"

"It's one of the transport barges. They've started calling them after the cities they came from. There was never more than a single barge in any city, so it sort of makes sense. I figured we'd try and take Americans first and foremost."

"Why?"

"Well, because..."

"Inter-Allied is not an American Regiment. God knows what we are. American? British? Lunar Colony? You can't even stop at human, as we aren't all that."

"Okay, how do you want me to proceed?"

"You take the best recruits you can find. I don't care what ship they come from. I don't care if they're men, women, black, or white. It doesn’t matter. You just make sure they're the best, you hear?"

"Okay."

"I'm not even sure our name Inter-Allied even means anything anymore. It was merely to symbolize the unity between two nations."

"Then go by our other name."

Taylor stopped and looked at her in surprise. "What do you mean?"

"The Immortals?"

Taylor thought about it for a moment.

"We're a mix of outfits from different nations, and it is your choice to make now. The name served us well, and there isn't a soul in this fleet that doesn't know the name."

"We are ultimately all marines now, by definition of what we do aboard this fleet. But I don't want to rob those other units of their heritage. Immortals it is."

"The Immortal Regiment? Parker asked, "Sounds good."

Taylor laughed. "Well, good, I wouldn't want us to sound anything unimportant."

They reached the quarters of the recruits. It was familiar, as it was the exact same layout and design as their own. He stopped in the doorway and turned to Parker.

"Everything we got," said Taylor, "it’s not exactly tough conditions to get them motivated."

"You're assuming that we lead a life of luxury," replied Parker.

"True."

"And it's not like I can have them out in the wilderness, slogging through the mud and sleeping in dugouts. If only."

"So we're gonna have to find new ways to toughen them up. What sort of backgrounds have they got?"

"I tried to focus on anyone with prior experience that might help. A few have been in the Corps. We’ve got ex-cops, private security, doormen, and gym instructors. Had to take what I could get."

One of the recruits closer to the door finally noticed them and called out.

"Attention on deck!"

Many of them almost jumped out of their skin and tried to get up and look presentable. Not one of them had a uniform. They wore their own civilian clothing.

"As you were!" Taylor yelled.

He didn't want to address them as a unit. He wanted to see them individually and to look into their eyes; see what kind of people they were. He passed down the line of beds slowly, looking at every single one of them, and studying every little detail. He looked at the photos of loved ones they had pinned to the beds and jewellery hanging from the hooks. It was clear to him from the clothing, they were from every social standing that could be thought of. But he didn't say a word to any of them, not until he reached a familiar face.

"Mia Moore," he said.

She was lying casually in her bed on top of the sheets, wearing nothing more than her underwear and a tight fitting black t-shirt. She looked provocative, and yet like she was ready to pounce and rip someone's throat out at a moment's notice.

"Not afraid one of these fine specimens will try and jump you with a look like that?" he asked her.

She gestured over to the bunk opposite. Taylor looked over to see a well-built man in his late twenties. He had a black eye and was nursing a damaged ego. Taylor laughed.

"What's your name, Son?"

"Adrian Hill, Sir."

"You learnt a valuable lesson here. Or at least, I hope you did."

"Yes, Sir?"

"Never underestimate your opponent. You saw a cute girl. What you didn't see was the lion inside that girl. Don't ever make such a dumb mistake again. In here, it cost you a black eye. In combat, it could cost you your life, but more important than that, the lives of your fellow marines."

"Yes, Sir," he said solemnly.

"And don't be ashamed. You feel your ego has been knocked because someone half your size did this to you? You gotta start thinking outside the box. If you thought she was no trouble because of her size, how will you feel when you face an alien twice your size?"

Taylor could see almost hear the cogs turning in the man's brain as he realized what Taylor was saying.

"Thank you, Sir."

Two days passed while Taylor oversaw their training. It was half way through the third day. The recruits carried dummy training rifles and were practicing gaining and giving ground, with obstacles setup through the gymnasium for them to navigate. His arms were crossed, and he watched from afar, as Parker made them practice the same drill for the twelfth time that day. She shouted at them every few seconds as they made mistakes, but he was glad to see their progress was at least respectable.

It felt just like old times, back on Earth and observing the grilling of a new set of hopefuls. The only difference being that an alien, Jafar, stood at his side. Then the last thing he ever would have expected happened. Admiral Huber came over the intercom on an open channel to the fleet.

"This is Admiral Huber speaking."

Everyone stopped what they were doing and listened.

"One hour ago, I received word from the frigate, the Valentine, one of the six vessels that departed almost three days ago to search out this system and discover our surroundings. Above all, their mission was to find a habitable planet that we might make our own, a planet where humanity may rebuild and start over. I am here to tell you that the crew of the Valentine has found that planet."

Taylor couldn't believe what he was hearing, and yet he looked across the room to see the others had heard just the same. First there was a stunned silence, and then the recruits began throwing their arms up in the air in joy, whistling and shouting in excitement. Parker looked to him with a new sense of hope, but he was not sold on the news at all. He turned to Jafar, who looked emotionless, as he often did.

"Did you know there was such a planet in this system?"

"I did not," he replied quickly, "but I know very little of this system. Is that not good news?"

"It might be. But it stinks. We've never found a habitable planet in all the years humanity has been in space."

"That is not very long, is it?"

"Well, no, but still. Don't you think it's just a little convenient that we lose our planet, jump to somewhere random, and bam, there's one here for us?"

"This was not a random choice."

"No, that's true, and that worries me even more."

Taylor was the only one not celebrating. He turned to leave.

"Jafar, on me!"

He stormed up to the bridge. Every crewmember he passed was beaming with excitement, and idle chitchat filled the corridors of the carrier, but he was not falling for it. He reached the bridge and found the same level of ecstasy. Huber was grinning from ear to ear.

"Colonel Taylor, your plan worked. None of us could have expected it quite so soon, but we've done it. We've found a new home!"

"What do we know about the planet? Are there any signs of life? Any sign of Krys presence?"

Huber backed off, looked at Taylor's stern expression, and finally laughed.

"Colonel Taylor. After all we have been through, this is a victory, and should be celebrated as such. Don't you know what this means?"

"No, not yet, none of us do."

He leaned in closer to the Admiral.

"Sir, I must recommend we proceed with the utmost caution. Every action we make risks the entire fleet. I would not have us gamble it all on this planet, without a thorough investigation first."

"Yes, yes of course. We aren't putting down there with everything we have. I am arranging an expeditionary force, as well as a team of scientists and experts to head there right away and assess the situation."

"If I may, Sir? If boots are going on the ground, then I should be among them, and so should Jafar. Beyond the science, we are your best bet at making sure the place is safe."

Huber's face turned more serious.

"I have no doubt you are, Colonel, but your job is to maintain the safety and security of this vessel, and therefore this fleet."

"I am attempting to do that, Sir."

"Damn you, Taylor, enough of this nonsense. This is a time to celebrate, and I have plenty of work for you yet. The number of casualties three days ago was completely unacceptable. Your job is to investigate why it went wrong and find solutions so that it does not happen again."

"Sir, I must protest."

"No, you most certainly must not. You're a good man and a damn fine officer, Taylor, but right now I don't need your cynical outlook. I need your expertise where it is needed most. I want you working closely with Reiter and his team to workout whatever you need to handle those Juggernauts, as you call them. God forbid we ever have to face them again."

We? It wasn't you who had to face them.

But he didn't dare say it out loud.

"You are dismissed, Taylor. And Colonel? Try to look on the bright side. A little history is being made here."

Taylor turned and left.

"That's what worries me," he whispered to himself.

The jubilation of every soul aboard the ship was intoxicating. He wondered if he was the only one among them who saw the potential danger they were in.

"What do we do?" Jafar asked.

Taylor wasn't sure whether he meant figuratively or literally, but it didn't matter.

"What we've been ordered to."