Chapter 3
Taylor stepped aboard the Washington to find Huber waiting to greet him. As he did so, he could see the badly damaged Gerty being manoeuvred into a repair bay a little further long the landing bay. The Admiral opened his mouth to welcome Taylor aboard, but stopped and stared at the wreck.
"What the hell happened out there?"
"We got our asses kicked is what happened. Whatever that thing is, and whoever it was made by, it ain't too friendly."
"Casualties?"
"Thankfully not, but we came too damn close."
"Well is it hostile, can we expect further trouble?"
The Admiral looked to Jafar, then Rains and Morris, but no one had any answers.
"From what I could tell, we just triggered a self defence mechanism. My advice, we keep on eye on it, but stay well wide."
"So just ignore it?"
"It's trouble we don't need, right now. It's out there in the middle of nowhere. Who cares? Leave it be."
Huber nodded in agreement. It was just another uncertainty to add to the list of their new location. He paced over to the wrecked ship and Taylor joined him. Rains was close behind them and could only shake his head in despair.
"Just when I thought I'd found my girl for life," he muttered.
"Don't you worry, we'll get her flying again," replied Huber.
Rains was shocked to hear it. "We can't afford to lose a single bird. She'll be patched up and repaired anyway we can," Huber continued.
It wasn't quite the good news Rains had hoped for, as it was such a short term and desperate measure. Huber stopped before the gunship to take a good look over it, but Rains continued on. The Lieutenant carried on until he reached his ship and ran his hand along the fuselage, as though feeling some deep personal connection to it. He located the damage where the wing and engine had been either ripped off or obliterated.
“Look at her. The metal has been melted away like it was nothing at all. Gerty is one of the toughest little birds I’ve ever flown, and I’ve flown a few. But that thing, that weapon. We might as well have had paper walls. If it had hit us dead on, none of us would be here to discuss it.”
“It was a damn good bit of flying,” Taylor murmured, attempting to reassure him, “damn lucky flying.”
Rains slowly turned and looked back to Taylor. His face was pale, and he quivered a little as he responded.
“Luck! How many times can we expect to survive by luck? It can’t last forever.”
Taylor stepped up and laid his hand on Eddie’s shoulder.
“Tough day, but not nearly as tough as it could have been. We all came back alive. Take a few hours. Get some food and sack time. The Admiral is finding us bunks, use them.”
Eddie nodded in appreciation and staggered off to do as ordered. Taylor looked around to the others who had gone with him.
“That goes for the rest of you. Get your heads down. Rest, and get some chow. We have a long way ahead of us. I want you ready for anything we have to face!”
None of them moved for a moment.
“Fall out, go!”
They scattered before him, and he was left with Huber and his detail.
“Your people have done some fine work throughout all this, Colonel. Do not think it has gone unnoticed.”
“Appreciated, Sir, but we don’t ask for anything. All we want is to win.”
Huber looked surprised.
“Win? The battle or the war?”
“Everything,” Taylor replied dryly.
With that, he turned and left without as much as a salute to the Admiral or request of leave. Huber did not question it. He felt humbled before the Colonel and knew he would have to rely on him for so many things in the times to come.
Taylor carried on in a weary fashion. Only Morris strode beside him. For a moment he imagined it was Jones walking alongside him, and he turned to make a crack at his British comrade, and then realised it could not be.
“You okay, Colonel?”
Taylor stopped. He was exhausted and wanted nothing more than to lie down where he stood and sleep. But he turned to Morris, who he knew needed a lesson in being an officer within his unit.
“Being okay isn’t a luxury we can afford, Captain. Being okay is for the civilians to feel while we protect them. While we fight for the survival of our race so that they can go on living. So that there is still a human race left after all this. So, yes, I am okay. I am okay as any man or woman in the Inter-Allied Regiment is entitled to feel. I am glad to have you with us, Captain, but do not forget your duty.”
Taylor turned and left. Morris could not help but feel abandoned and alone. Taylor knew he would, but he was too exhausted to explain it any further. More than that, he knew Morris had a strong will, but not yet strong enough.
He carried onwards. The Washington was roughly familiar to him. He knew where to find the officers’ quarters and made his way there. Somehow he expected to have someone guiding him to his quarters, but it never happened. Finally a Sergeant of the marines approached him.
“Can I help you, Sir?”
“Looking for…where I can call home, I guess.”
“Sir, your unit are back the way you came and port side. Sector 34F.”
He looked surprised and more than a little puzzled. The Sergeant could see it in his face.
“I’m sorry, Sir, but there isn’t any accommodation available in the officers’ quarters at present. We’re already running pretty tight and cycling beds through duty rosters.”
“I…uh…see, Sergeant, thank you. Thirty what was it?”
“34F, Sir, it’s just…”
“I got it, thanks.”
"You okay, Sir?"
He nodded before turning and wandering on. He finally saw a familiar face. Sergeant Silva giving orders to a squad outside the entrance to 34F. He looked as wide-awake and lively as ever.
A good Sergeant Major, thought Taylor.
It was an inspiration to him, too. As he reached Silva, the others were sent off about their duties.
"Colonel, you look like shit."
"Always the charmer," he replied sarcastically, "This our lot?"
"Yes, Sir, temporary quarters for additional marine contingents. Haven't been used in a few years. Hardly luxurious, but we've had a lot worse. I'm chasing the crew to get you your own quarters, but for now you'll have to rough it with the rest of us."
Taylor nodded in appreciation. He could see Silva was working hard to maintain order. He stepped through into the bunkroom and found it was more basic than he expected. It reminded him of the boot camp when he had first joined the Corps. Beds were built into the walls and three high all the way to the ceiling. The space between each column of beds was just a metre wide, and every three beds a cross roads leading to the others either side.
Reitech armour lay piled up on the floors, as it was too bulky to fit in the narrow lockers beside the beds. It wasn't an old vessel, but it was a sign of how much technology and equipment had changed since it had been laid down. Every bunk in sight was taken. Half the marines filling them were asleep; the others were desperately trying to get to the same state. Few had even taken the time to draw the curtains across for privacy. The light was dimmed anyway, so few cared.
Considering how many of them were awake, it was eerily quiet, with just one quiet conversation going on in the distance. He carried on down the line until he stopped on finding a small plaque with his name on it beside one of the beds. He looked around to see it was the only one. The bed had been reserved for him. It was a middle bunk and therefore at waist height, for the lowest lay almost on the deck.
Taylor stowed his rifle in the locker and pulled off his armour. But as he opened the curtain to his bed he stopped in surprise to see someone inside. It was Eli, wide-awake and staring at him.
"And I thought this one had been saved for me?" he asked jokingly.
"Oh, it is, as long as you don't mind sharing."
He climbed into the bunk, but even with Eli on her side, they could only just squeeze in, but he didn't care.
"Time to learn how the rest of us live," she said with a smile.
"Sure beats a muddy trench or some bombed out wreck of a town."
"Got that right."
"And anyway, not like you have had to rough it like this in over a decade, Sergeant."
She only smiled in response and cuddled into his shoulder. Taylor was exhausted and falling asleep with seconds of lying down.
"Do you think we'll ever get home? Do you think we'll ever step foot there again? Stand on real earth and sleep in a proper bed?" she asked.
Taylor at first grumbled and then realised what she had said.
"Damn right we will."
He then nodded off to sleep.
* * *
"They're here! They're here!"
Kelly didn't move or flinch. He knew the enemy was coming and had expected it. The only thing that surprised him was that he was still alive.
"Sir, what the f*ck are we gonna do?"
Kelly did not respond.
"Sir!"
Finally, he looked up. It was Doyle; a man who had been with him since it had all began. He turned and looked to Lewis who was sat opposite him in his own home.
"What do we do, Sir?" Doyle asked once again.
"What would you do?"
Doyle was dumbfounded.
"Me?" he answered before a long pause, "Sir, you're the Commander. You are our leader. You must know what to do?"
Kelly shook his head.
"We have to do something," Lewis added.
"We stayed here as to not abandon our home again, but we might as well have gone if we're gonna sit around here and wait to die," said Doyle.
Kelly was trying to consider all their options and could not find an answer or solution.
"There are millions of people left on Earth. We can fight," Doyle said.
"With what? Our infrastructure is gone. What armies are still fighting have been shattered."
"Then we fight them in a different way," said Lewis.
"Kelly looked up at the comms officer desperately wanting to hear an answer to their problems. He was tired of the responsibility that hung so heavily on his shoulders. He didn't say a word, but waited for Lewis to go on.
"We can't win in a straight up fight. So don't. Those bastards see an army, a city, or a stronghold, and they send everything they have at that target and flatten it. So let’s not give them that luxury. Let's scatter and hit them where they are weak, and at a time and place of our choosing."
"You're talking about a guerrilla war?"
"Yes, why not? It's worked so many times before, why not? It's that or lay down and die."
Kelly thought about it for a moment. He wondered if he even had the energy left in his body. He was still fit and strong, but he was pushing seventy and weary of it all.
"Sir?" Doyle spoke softly.
Kelly turned to him.
"We've fought, and bled, and lost friends. Lost our colony. But we fought on. We earned the right to be here, to live. Was it all for nothing?"
Kelly shook his head.
"Then what are you waiting for, Sir? The fight is here. It is on us, here and now. If you were going to give up, you should have done it years ago. You've dragged us this far, and I won't let you give up now."
Kelly was utterly surprised by Doyle's words that cut so deeply. He looked to Lewis who only nodded in agreement.
"So you want to fight? Fight, knowing we probably can't win. That we will only prolong ours lives by maybe a few days or weeks?"
"I don't think it's about survival anymore. Taylor and everyone who got off this planet are survivors. I want to hurt those alien bastards. I don't care if I live or die anymore, but I want them to suffer."
Kelly could see the burning hatred in his eyes. It wasn't the best place to work from, but it was better than nothing.
"If we do this, it's going to be bad. It will mean leaving people behind, letting people die. We're gonna have to become something none of us ever imagined. We are going to have to live like wild animals and fight like wild animals," said Kelly.
Doyle nodded.
"I don't think you fully appreciate what life will be like when we go down that path," he added.
"It will be life, which is more than we will get if we do nothing."
He looked back to Lewis who again nodded in agreement. Kelly shot up from his chair.
"All right, if this is how it's gonna be, let's do it right. Gather all MDF personnel here. Use no comms or trackable communication at all. Doyle. I want you to take the two guys out front. Get to the weapon stores at the airfield, and load up everything you can onto the cars and trucks there. Bring them along. We're heading for the forests south of here. They are our best chance. I want everything here within an hour. Personnel, supplies, the lot, so get to it."
* * *
Taylor awoke feeling like a new man. He had no idea how long he had been out for, and didn't care to even check on his watch. Parker had gone. It was a sign of how exhausted he must have been. She would have had to climb over him to get out, and it hadn't woken him. A shower was his first port of call, but afterwards, he realised he had but one uniform. The dirty one he had been wearing.
Walking about without the Reitech equipment was a revelation. For all the power and protection it gave, it was a true sense of freedom to be out of it. Taylor put on his pistol belt and carried on to the bridge, safe in the knowledge the ship was now free of enemy combatants.
As he approached the bridge, he heard a heated argument from the far corridor.
Not a good sign, he thought.
When such a discussion was happening in public for all to hear, he knew things were bad. He stepped aboard the bridge and could hear Huber say forcefully over an open comms channel.
"This is not your fleet, and I will not submit to your authority. Its survival is a military decision and, as such, will be made by the military leader of this fleet."
No response came.
"They have cut communications, Sir," one of the crew said.
"Shit!" Huber shouted angrily.
He looked over and saw Taylor at the entrance to the bridge.
"Ah, good. Colonel, you have had more than a few run-ins with civilian authority and made it through. Maybe you can help."
Taylor took in a deep breath and stepped forward wearily. It was the last thing he wanted to deal with.
"Admiral. Given the choice of fighting the enemy with my own hands or dealing with politicians, give me the gunfight any day."
Huber laughed.
"Sadly true. The British Deputy Prime Minister is leading a collective of other civilian high rankers in an attempt to form a government. He's a son of a bitch called Andrew Bletchley."
"What about the President?"
Huber shook his head.
"Vice President? Joint chiefs?"
"The President's ship was destroyed well before it got out of the atmosphere, confirmed by several sources. Chief of the National Guard is with us but wounded. A few Senators made it...but not a lot else. We’ve lost a lot getting this far."
"Well we need a government, don't we? We have a fleet, but the majority are civilians. It's not a military fleet. It is a civilian one under the protection of the Navy."
"Yes, yes, we need a government, but they want to carry on as if nothing has happened at all. We cannot let these people rule when what we need at this time is a war leader, not a peacetime one."
Taylor opened his mouth to speak but stopped himself. He could already see they were facing the kind of infighting he had always strived to avoid, and yet rarely managed.
"Follow me," Huber said.
He led Taylor into his private quarters, took a seat, and welcomed Taylor to do the same.
"What do I do, Colonel?"
"Talk to them."
Huber laughed.
"Didn't you hear me doing that when you arrived?"
"Like it or not, you are a politician now, as well as an Admiral. You are going to have to deal with the civilians, so better to make your peace now and make it work. Ignore them or put up barriers between yourselves, and it'll only get worse."
"I only wish they would have your common sense and vision. All right, I'll meet with them, but you are coming along for the ride. Seems like there is more good you can do than just fight."
Taylor knew he did not have a choice.
* * *
"All present and accounted for, Sir," said Captain Reynolds.
The former MDF soldiers were formed up in the street outside Kelly's home. There wasn't a single uniform among them, just a rag tag mix of civilian clothing and camouflage items taken from the airfield. Half of them had weapons.
"What's the headcount?"
"Two hundred and twelve ready to fight, Sir. Three hundred and twenty eight civilians."
"There are no civilians anymore," Kelly added, "You're either a fighter or you’re dead."
He climbed up onto the roof of his truck parked in front of the house.
"You all know what has happened here. Earth has fallen. Armies have fallen, and governments have fallen."
"They've left us here to die!" one of the soldiers cried out.
A few yelled in support of the man.
"No, they have just done everything in their power to make sure the human race goes on. But us? We might as well be dead already. For those that made it off this world there is hope. For us, there is only war, death, and sacrifice. Do not be under any illusions. They have come here to kill us and will succeed. So the only question remains, how do you want to die? Will you be put up against a wall and shot like cattle? Will you go into one of their death camps, or be subject to their experiments? Will you put a gun in your mouth and pull the trigger?"
Many were open mouthed in shock. Nobody said a word. They waited for the good news, as they expected there must be some.
"If one of those options is favourable to you, I suggest you do it now!" he shouted, "Where I am going is right to hell, and I am dragging every one of those sons of bitches with me that I can manage. This isn't survival. This is revenge. This is payback. Will you die as sheep, or will you die as warriors? There are no rules any longer. If you follow me now, you know there is no line I will not cross. No sacrifice I will not make. I will do anything and everything in my power to make those alien bastards pay for what they have done to us. Who's with me?"
There was silence for a moment. It was a grim prospect, and he knew it. But he also knew their hatred of the aliens was all that could fuel them any longer.
"I am!" Doyle finally answered him.
Doyle had always been a quiet and reserved young man, but this was the day he changed. This had been the day he showed Kelly the way and now stood by him for all to see. Kelly nodded in appreciation.
"We never got the payback we deserved for what they did to us on our own colony. Now is our chance!" Kelly spoke to them all.
The crowd suddenly erupted into a frenzy of excitement, shouting and whistling in support. It was utter commitment and devotion to the destruction of everything they knew and loved, and it was the only way. But as they shouted in support, a pulse smashed into the group and killed two instantly. Before they could respond, two Mech fighters soared overhead and strafed their position, causing people to scatter for cover.
"Load up and follow me!" Kelly shouted.
He jumped from the truck and went to open the driver's door when he felt a hand on his shoulder. He looked around to see Doyle.
"Sir, on me!"
It was a surprise but his newfound confidence in the man compelled him to do so. Doyle rushed over to one of the trucks he had acquired. It was a military vehicle with canvas covering on the back. He leapt up onto the rear bed, but Kelly could not understand why. As the Commander took the corner to the rear and could see inside, he understood. Doyle was fighting to pull back the canvas cover because inside was a twelve barrelled anti-aircraft gun he had taken from the airfield.
"Christ, how'd you get this thing in here?"
"Forklift truck, thought it would come in handy. Help me get this off!"
Doyle had become a different man with this new conflict, and Kelly was as surprised as he was grateful. He climbed up into the back of the vehicle, took the other side of the canvas, and started tugging it back as the fighters strafed them once again. One pulse hit the front cab of the truck and tore the roof off.
"Christ!" Kelly screamed.
With one last pull the canvas slid back, and Kelly leapt into the control seat of the gun system. He'd never used one before but had watched others do so. He hit the power button, and the engine inside fired up, giving him full control of tilt and elevation. He turned to the targeting computer. It was fizzling where a shard of metal from the front cab had embedded in it.
"Shit!"
"You'll have to fire on open sights!" Doyle yelled, "And fast, they're coming in for another run!"
Kelly turned the guns around quickly with the foot controls and took aim as the fighter came in low and opened fire. He squeezed the trigger, and all the guns burst into life in a deafening volley. The muzzle flashes blurred out most of Kelly's sight, but he could see something explode before him. The debris veered off and crashed into one of the nearby houses.
"Woohoo!" Doyle shouted, "Hell of a shot!"
Kelly could barely hear him as his eardrums were still pulsating, and he was almost deaf. They watched as the other fighter banked quickly and fled rapidly.
"You did it!" Doyle exclaimed.
Kelly got up to look around at the devastation. His house was riddled with damage, and a dozen people lay dead in the road, with several other wounded screaming in pain.
"Not soon enough," he replied.
His truck was amazingly still intact and had sustained no further damage.
Many of those who had got to ground or cover got up and looked to Kelly for orders.
"We can't stay here. The town will be crawling with Mechs within a few hours after they hear about this. Gather the wounded. Leave the dead!"
None of them wanted to hear it, but they knew it was necessary.
"Load up and let's move!"
Kelly raced towards his truck, picking up one of the wounded along the way and helping them into the back of his vehicle.
"Reynolds, you're with me!"
The two of them climbed into the front of his vehicle. They waited, watching the rest of their people embark on dozens of vehicles along the road.
"Captain, with Morris gone, you're my right hand man now, you do realise that?"
"If you will have me."
"Good man. I need to know you are with me one hundred percent. The time for compromise is over. Are you with me until the end?"
"Yes, and let it be far from now, so that we can kill as many of those f*ckers as possible before our time comes."
Kelly nodded in agreement. Knowing their chance of survival was gone had given them a new resolve. They feared the enemy far less now knowing their fate was sealed.
* * *
Taylor sat around a conference table with twenty representatives of Earth, who now stood together in an attempt to create a new government. Huber had placed him at the centre, opposite them all in a crescent. He had agreed to help, but never did he expect he would be placed as a figurehead to take all the fire that would come Huber’s way.
Shit, he thought.
The fresh and invigorating feeling he had awoken with was being sapped away from him as each second passed. General Dupont sat on one of the flanks with another officer he did not recognise. Huber was by Taylor’s side, positioned so it appeared as though Taylor stood as his right hand.
Bletchley had led the conversation so far and barely let another person get a word in. He carried on.
“The fact remains, we must establish a workable government for us to continue operating as a society. In time we will have elections, but we need a government now. We need…”
“We get what you are saying Deputy Prime Minister,” Huber interrupted, “We got it the first, second, and third time. You want to establish a civilian government then do so. But understand, that while you remain under the protection of the fleet, you will submit to the authority of the Navy. I will not have military decisions compromised by a civilian authority.”
“Is that what you will have, Admiral, a military regime with a puppet civilian one? Is this the sort of democracy we fought for?”
“I’m not aware you fought for anything, Mr Bletchley.”
“I played my part throughout this conflict, the same as you.”
“Sat behind a desk while my people…”
“Enough!” Dupont shouted.
The room was silenced and all looked to the Frenchman.
“We aren’t making any progress here, and we’re not going to if we go on. We have bigger things to worry about than this petty infighting.”
“Then what do you suggest we do? We need some resolution to this before there is chaos amongst our people,” replied Bletchley.
“What I suggest is irrelevant because you will not like it. And what you propose is unacceptable to those of us who have the safety of the fleet in mind.”
“That is not an answer, General.”
Taylor could see Dupont had to use all his willpower to refrain himself from launching a verbal assault against Bletchley, but somehow he managed it.
“Well?” Bletchley asked.
Dupont took a deep breath and finally spoke.
“Everyone around this table holds a substantial position of power. They did on Earth, and they continue to do so now. We each have concerns over our own little bit of power, whether we like it or not. None of us wants to compromise, and every one of us has some grand idea of how we should proceed. So we are at a crossroads. We need to try something different.”
Nobody said a word and waited to hear the magical solution to their problems.
“There is only one man in this room who can speak without bias or concern over his stake in a parliament or a fleet; one man who will put humanity first, and say and act without any hidden agenda. Colonel Mitch Taylor. A man I grew to hate and then love. I say we ask him to moderate, to decide what we should do. How better to act than ask a man of principle to decide for us?”
Taylor was shocked as discussions broke out through the room.
“Silence!” Huber ordered.
He got it.
“I agree with General Dupont. I have no idea what Colonel Taylor’s opinions are on these matters, but I trust in his judgement. Let’s hear him out. And if we can all agree with his take on this, perhaps there is a chance of getting this sorted yet, agreed?”
There was general agreement to at least hear Taylor out. Huber looked to Taylor to get started, but he didn’t know where to begin. He had not planned a single word for the meeting, nor thought about anything as monumentally important as this. He coughed and cleared his throat, slowly looking around.
“I…I am not of this world, but I will give you my opinion. We are at war, and this a military fleet under wartime conditions. All decisions regarding fleet movements and activity must fall under military authority. However, the military cannot govern civilians. I thought all of this was clear to everyone. The civilians must manage and govern civilian life, while working within the framework of a military operation. These are wartime conditions, and you all have your part to play.”
No one spoke as they waited for him to continue.
“We must have a civilian government for the human race, but that government must respect the knowledge and experiences of those who protect this fleet and have enabled humanity to go on. So form a government. Have military representatives within it to advise but not command the government. But activity regarding fleet management, manoeuvres, and strategy must remain within the hands of capable military leaders.”
Huber looked to Bletchley, who was at least a little appeased by his proposal.
“But you will still have a Naval Admiral holding supreme power among us?” he asked.
“While you remain under the protection of the Navy, yes. When we return to Earth, or establish a colony elsewhere, that can change. But right now, you are refugees under the protection of the Navy and other armed forces. They cannot protect you to the best of their abilities unless they are able to do so in the best manner they know how.”
Bletchley looked around for support, but he wasn’t getting it. Most of the other representatives were happy with what they had heard.
“Finally, some progress,” replied Huber, “It’s as simple as this. I want a vote. A majority agreement with Taylor’s proposals will see it pass, and we will jointly establish the representatives to make it happen. So now, a show of hands, all in favour.”
Fifteen hands went up, and it brought a smile to Huber and a sigh of relief.
“Thank you, Gentlemen. We will resume this meeting at 0800 hours tomorrow.”
Taylor was quickly out of his seat and heading for the door. Huber followed him. As they got to the corridor outside, the Admiral reached for his shoulder and stopped him dead.
“Thank you, Colonel. Thank you for standing with us.”
“I didn’t,” he replied, “I stood for what I believe is best for us all.”