Battle Earth: 11 (16 page)

"I don't accept that we can do nothing. I won't."

Irala remained silent.

"Could you just do nothing? If they were your people down there, your friends. Honestly tell me, would you sit by and watch them die, knowing that's exactly what'll happen? In three months, you say? So we have to sit by and wait and watch every day for that to go down?"

Still he got no response, and he began pacing back and forth around the room. He looked at the screens once again and to the other groups of human resistance fighters around the world.

"They fight on not only for survival, but for some hope that the rest of us will one day go back. What good is it if they're all dead?"

"Only moments ago you believed they were already dead," Irala finally replied.

"Yes, and now I know otherwise. Goddamn it!" he screamed in frustration, but he was getting nothing more out of Irala.

"They at least need to know we are alive and have a chance of hitting back. They need to know there is hope. Do you know what that could mean to them? It could transform the fighting down there."

"What are you asking for?"

Taylor thought on it for a moment, watching Kelly continue reading his book.

"Project me down there. Let them see me and talk to them. Kelly's people know me well, and plenty of others know my face and name. They'll trust me, or as much as anyone can trust a hologram."

"And what will you tell them?"

"The truth."

"And compromise everything we are hoping to achieve?"

"It isn't a compromise to share information with your allies," Taylor spat back furiously.

His face was reddening with anger now at the lack of assistance he was getting. He felt helpless watching the isolated groups of survivors on the monitors.

"All I ask is you put me down there to talk with them and give them some hope."

"That would mean taking you back to your solar system. We cannot project over this sort of distance from here."

"Then do it. Send me in there aboard one of your invisible ships. We can be in and out without a fight."

Irala seemed to think about it for a few moments. Taylor knew there was many more of his kind, and yet he almost never saw any of them. He began to wonder if they communicated by means he wasn't seeing. Irala frequently seemed to consult others with just his mind.

"Please. You have no idea what it would mean to them," Taylor pleaded.

"We will consider your proposal. Return here in twelve hours, and we will have your answer."

Twelve hours,
he thought.
A shit load can happen in twelve hours.

But he knew it was the best answer he could hope for.

"Thank you, Irala. I know you are giving a lot, and I can see you're a good man. I only ask you keep pushing with us for the victory we need."

Irala nodded and led them back to the stairway where they had entered and gestured for them to leave. They took the long flight of stairs back up to the surface and were once again struck by the overwhelming temperature. It hit them like a blow to the head when they stepped into the thick stifling air.

"Do you think they'll do it?" he asked Jafar.

"No."

Taylor was surprised by his response and turned to look at his expression, but his face was blank.

"Why the hell wouldn't they?"

"Because they don't understand how humans think."

"And you do?"

Jafar shrugged. "You value each human. Irala only sees the tactical advantage and disadvantage of going to help them."

"And which do you think is the better approach?"

He shook his head. "The better approach is the one where we get into combat the quickest."

Taylor laughed. "Nice to know some things always remain the same."

As the laughter died down, he began to think more about their new allies and what they had just seen.

"How much do you trust them, Jafar?"

"They have not tried to kill me recently."

"So where's that on the scale?"

"Scale?"

"Of trust?"

"I trust they hate the Krys as much as you do."

"But is that enough? Maybe it has to be."

They carried on back to the camp. Taylor thought about everything he had seen. He had learnt more about the Aranui in that short time than he had in the weeks he had known them.

"Not a word about Kelly to anyone, you hear?"

Jafar looked confused.

"If Irala's people are willing to help us, we can break the news then, but until that time we only risk building hope that may have no foundation in fact. Imagine telling Captain Morris his best friend and Commander is alive, along with a load more of his people, I imagine. Only to then say we can't help them, and they'll be dead before long. They don't need that kind of shit floating about their heads."

"You would lie to protect him from disappointment?"

"I would. Spirits are higher than they have been in months. Since Erdogan first arrived at Earth. I won't ruin that for no reason. Our people need to be at their very best, if we're gonna stand any chance back on Earth."

Kelly finally lay his book down as the light began to fade.

"You've done nothing but read all day." Becker said.

"Yep," he replied casually.

"And you could do that at a time like this?"

"Why not? We work our asses off. We fight and we survive, but we need time to relax and rest. Not every day need be back breaking work."

"I'm not sure our alien friends would agree with you."

"Well, we can agree to disagree with the barrel of my gun jammed down their throats."

"We've hit five targets since you went out that night. Think it's doing a lot of good?"

"Probably not, but it makes me feel a little better."

Snow began to fall lightly, and he looked up to feel the sensation of the flakes landing on his face. It was a welcome experience at first, but the feeling soon faded. He was thinking of the kind of winter they were in for. He was looking up at the stars now as the sun faded away.

"What is life, if we can't have a little enjoyment, Captain?" he asked.

"I thought you lived to kill the enemy now and nothing more."

"I told you I was wrong about that."

"Maybe, but perhaps you had it right the first time."

"Incoming!" a voice called out that echoed all around.

The shadow of aircraft appeared thirty metres above Kelly's position. It was flying in complete blackout conditions and had not even been spotted by their sentries using night vision. Kelly instantly recognised the silhouette as a Mech craft.

"Where did they come from?" Becker yelled.

 
"Doesn't matter now. Grab your weapons!"

He grabbed his rifle, ducked down beside the fender of his truck, and took aim at the craft. But as he did so, he could see the shapes of Mech warriors leaping from the side of the craft and descending towards him. Boosters on their backs lit up the scene and blinded him to their position. He aimed at the nearest light source and fired a burst. He could see one of the lights splutter where he had hit the boosters, and then the creature veered off to his left flank. He knew he couldn’t use night vision now with bright lights, and the pulse cannons would only make it worse when they opened up.

Kelly saw several of his people target the creature he had caused to spiral out of control and decided to move on to his next victim. He turned back just in time to see one Mech land a few metres from him, but with its flank towards him. He fired from the hip, and then raised the rifle to fire a few more shots. The creature collapsed lifelessly to the fresh snow on the ground.

The sky lit up with gunfire as everyone who had a weapon brought it to bear. He could only see two craft in the sky, and neither was particularly substantial.

“How many do you think there are?”

“Looks like a small hunting party, Becker!” Kelly replied and turned to engage another target. As he did, he heard one land behind him, and he turned around. Just as he caught sight of the creature, he felt an impact of its gun barrel swung at him like a club. He felt a bolt of pain soar through him. His left shoulder was dislocated from the impact, and he was pinned against the front of his truck.

The beast swung the weapon for him again. He tried to raise his rifle, but the pain was slowing his entire body. The pulse cannon hit like a club across his face and knocked him out cold. When he finally woke, he was on his back in the rear of the command vehicle. Engel was kneeling beside him with his hand held in hers.

“He’s awake,” she muttered. Tears dropped down her face.

Kelly’s vision was blurred, and he could barely move through the pain. His neck was so stiff; he could only just tilt his head far enough to see Becker sitting beside him. He could feel the side of his face was heavily swollen, and he could taste the iron of his own blood on his tongue. It was revolting, but he was all too familiar with its taste.

“Where are we?” he asked in a croaky voice.

“On the road,” Becker answered.

Kelly tried to shake his head as if to say he knew, but it hurt too much. “Obviously,” he muttered.

“We’re heading wherever they aren’t.”

It was enough for Kelly. “Did we lose many?”

“Too many,” Engel said quietly.

He tried to get up, but he couldn’t manage it. He held out his hand to Engel for support. She obliged and helped him upright and then to his feet. As the vehicle hit a rut, he stumbled slightly and dropped himself down onto one of the seats opposite Becker.

“How did we do?” he asked the Captain.

“About as well as could be hoped. We held them off.”

“So it wasn’t an all out raid?”

“They hit us with small numbers. Maybe it was a scouting party that stumbled across us. Doesn’t matter either way. Each time they hit us, our group gets smaller. We can’t hold them off forever.”

Kelly said nothing, thinking about Becker’s words, and the Captain continued.

“You told us all there was hope, but it was all bullshit, wasn’t it? You told us what we wanted to hear, as always.”

Kelly looked to Engel, but she shook her head as if to say she had nothing to do with his tirade.

“You made it up, didn’t you? Didn’t you? Becker pressed.

“And what if I did?” Kelly replied, with a dry throat and pounding headache. He couldn’t find the energy to lie anymore.

“These are our lives you are messing with, Kelly, our entire existence. Why would you fill our heads with hope that never existed?”

Kelly coughed to clear his throat and straightened his back. He was starting to get his senses back now and couldn’t believe Becker’s lack of faith.

“So what, if I told people there was hope? So what, if I never had any evidence if there was any, or if I just hoped for the best? What does it matter? Do you think our people would prefer to know we’re fucked?”

“I think they’d rather know the truth, yes!”

“Truth? Are you serious? Truth is we appeared lost through so many of the days of all the wars, and yet we got through them. And here we are today, still alive and still fighting. How can you say that is without hope?”

Becker was silenced now, and Kelly could see he was giving great consideration to everything they had discussed. He turned his attention to Engel, and in her eyes she still had complete faith in him.

“Don’t give me that,” he whispered.

“What?” she asked in surprise.

“You still believe in all this crap. Don’t! I can’t take it anymore.”

She gasped.

“I was there when you decided to tell this story of events. It wasn’t a lie. It was just an optimist's evaluation. I have clung on to that, and so have many others.”

“Yeah? And look where it has got us.”

“We never thought it would be easy. We just needed to know we were doing all this for a reason; that we were enduring all this with some end in sight. Some hope of a better life.”

“But there isn’t.”

“There is, if you believe in one. Don’t give up hope now; we need you, Sir.”

Kelly went quiet as the vehicle rumbled on. Eventually, he realised what pain and weariness he felt, and he slumped back down onto the hard floor of the vehicle and went to sleep. He was exhausted and couldn’t bear to hear any of it anymore. When he finally awoke it was daytime, and the vehicle was parked with the rear door open. None of the others were in sight. He got up on his own two feet and felt at least partly recovered, despite the aches and pains. He reached the door and found Engel approaching.

“'Morning, Lieutenant,” he said.

“Good afternoon, Sir, almost evening,” she replied.

“How long have I been out?”

“A couple of days.”

“What? Are we safe?”

She nodded. “So far.”

He took her hand and allowed her to help him out of the vehicle. The snow was thick on the ground now.

He could tell why he felt surprisingly refreshed. It was the most rest he had gotten since leaving his home in Ramstein, but he didn’t feel good about it. He looked around to the faces of those around him. They were grim, and he could tell they had lost hope. He heard Becker’s voice yelling, and the Captain came into view.

“You’re awake. It’s about time,” he stated.

“For what?”

“For you to take over the job that is yours. I wasn’t born for this. I’ll follow you to the end, but I don’t want to lead.”

“All this shit, and you still want to follow me?”

“It’s a sign of faith in you, don’t you think?”

“Yeah, or maybe a sign I’m the mug willing to take the job.”

Becker smiled, but they both knew how serious their situation was. Each of them was pandering to their audience. Becker shook Kelly’s hand as a sentiment of the hand over of power. Those around them clapped, but the excitement soon died away. He reached over to Engel and used her for support to get to his feet.

"You still need to rest," she said.

"I've rested enough."

He stepped out of the vehicle to see the snow had gotten thicker still so that he could no longer see the earth beneath it. He looked around. Various crews were working to fix damaged vehicles and weapons. Without counting, he could tell they were down on both vehicles and numbers.

"How do you think they found us?"

"Becker, it can't be that difficult if they put their minds to it. We're a big group, and the forest canopy only provides so much protection. Maybe they're tracking with thermal imaging, but hopefully not. Maybe they caught a lucky glimpse on a satellite. But I'd say more likely is they are just using weight of numbers. Keep scouting the land day and night, and eventually you'll find us."

"But they attacked with so few, why not amass their forces when they found us and come all at once?" Engel asked.

"Because they don't have to," Becker joined in, "Each time they find us, we lose people and equipment. They whittle us down bit by bit, casualties and losses that we cannot replace, and they can."

"What can we do about that?"

Kelly shrugged. "I never said there was anything. I only said we could try and live and fight as long as we possibly could."

"No hope?"

"Not unless you believe in miracles, Lieutenant. Now a nice warm fire, that is something we can achieve, right now. Let's get it started."

"A fire? You want to bring the enemy right to us?"

"Look at our people, Captain."

"Freezing cold, depressed, and fed up. The fight is coming to us no matter what, so let's not die cold, hungry, and miserable."

Becker couldn't disagree and turned to a few of their people sitting in the back of one of the trucks, huddled together for heat.

"All right, let's grab some wood and get a fire going."

They looked surprised but quickly moved to it.

Kelly sat back down on the rear step of their command vehicle and watched his people go to work with a new sense of enthusiasm. He could see that a little heat from a fire was the most appealing thing in their lives for now.

Twenty minutes later, they had five fires going, and groups gathering around them. They all knew they were making themselves a huge target, but none of them really cared. Kelly held out his hands towards the fire and felt the comfort it brought. It almost burnt his hands to warm his body while his feet were freezing from the contact with the ground.

"You knew there was never any hope," said Becker, "You knew that from the very start, and you told us all that."

Kelly didn't reply and thought on those words, but finally a response came from behind them and boomed, "He was wrong!"

They turned around to see Colonel Mitch Taylor approaching from the darkness between two of the vehicles beside them. Kelly reached for his pistol and drew it as quick as his ice cold bones could. Becker did the same, and before Kelly could stop him, the Captain pulled the trigger.