Battle Earth: 12 (11 page)

“You’ve got a point,” he muttered.

“What was that? The great Colonel Taylor admits he might have been wrong?”

“I wish I wasn’t, trust me, Morris.”

Taylor began to pace back and forth, and once again found his temper was beginning to get the better of him.

“How could he give it all away so easily?” he asked himself, “How could he be so stupid?”

Finally, he came to an abrupt standstill and found Silva blocking his path.

“You’re not gonna fix this today. It’s been a long day for all of us.”

Taylor took a deep breath of air and tried to calm himself.

“What do you suggest?”

“Few beers. Relax and think about all this overnight.”

“Just as well.”

As he headed for the bar, he realised just how exhausted he really was. His first thought was to go right for his quarters and climb into a warm bed with Eli. But then it hit him like it always did. Imagining a world without her was impossible, and yet it was a reality for him now. He had nowhere to go. He didn’t even feel like anywhere was home anymore. He was starting to hate the foreign world they inhabited, but his own bed felt lonely. Above all else, he wondered what was even drawing him to Earth now. He knew there was nothing left for him there.

He took a seat at a table not far from the bar, and it seemed like half the personnel there were greeting him and singing his praise. It all sounded like kissing ass to him, but he knew it wasn’t. Captain King sat down and seemed remarkably cheery.

“What the hell is up with you?” he asked.

“You don’t know?”

“This thing with Irala taking over, right? What’s the problem? He’s a total badass.”

Taylor shook his head. “Never thought I’d hear you say it.”

“What? Accept that we need a little help. I’ll take it and go along with it if it gets the job done, and gets us back on our own turf.”

“But will it?”

King looked puzzled, and Morris sat beside them as Taylor carried on.

“We still don’t truly know these people. Let’s just not give too much away, more than we can afford to lose.”

With that, he necked his drink and headed on for bed.

A single drink?

He imagined how Eli would rib him for being such a lightweight, and it brought a smile to his face. Within minutes, he was in his bed and passed out. It would have been the best sleep he had gotten in years, were it not for all the thoughts that swirled around his head.

As he dreamt, his imagination took him far from the face of Eli until he saw the pain and destruction of all he had witnessed. Lastly, he imagined himself in shackles with Erdogan’s hands wrapped around his throat and squeezing the life out of him. Suddenly, he snapped out of the dream and awoke dripping in sweat. It was a horrible experience, but it only hardened his resolve.

Taylor leapt from his bed and pulled on his uniform. It felt awful as he was so filthy, but he was single-mindedly focused now, and nothing would delay him any longer. He rushed out of his quarters to find the sun was only just in the sky. Early enough that Jafar had not even arrived as his escort yet. He had no weapons and no gear at all. He rushed out into the open area of the desert where he had been shown to the Aranui base below.

He turned and looked around in all directions. There was nothing in sight as he expected.

“Irala!” he shouted.

There was no response.

“Irala!” he screamed at the top of his voice.

He turned and turned, looking for Irala, and then as he made a third full turn, the alien stood before him.

“What can I do for you, Colonel?”

Taylor took a deep breath and calmed himself before finally opening up.

“You know this won’t stand?” he asked.

There was no response.

“I can’t let you take control, you realise that, right?”

“It is the logical course of action if we are to win this war.”

“Logic? Yeah, not really my strong point. Passion…is. By doing what you’re doing, you are crapping all over what we have fought for and what we have achieved.”

Irala seemed intrigued and waited for Taylor to continue.

“We haven’t just fought these wars for survival. We fought them for freedom, freedom from all those who would try and impose their controls and values upon us. And whatever your motives, you have to understand we need to do this ourselves. Stand with us. Stand beside us and fight with us, but don’t try and rule us. We fought for the right to rule ourselves, and you fought and survived for the same. We don’t want to rule you, and we don’t want to be ruled over. Can you understand how vital our freedom is to us?”

Irala thought for sometime before answering.

“Even if that would lessen our odds of victory?”

“Even then. Some victories just aren’t worth the cost.”

“My people may not feel the same way.”

“Then that is their choice, just like this is ours. Lasure never had the right to allow you to take charge, and you should have known better than to take him up on it. You know what it is to fight for your freedom, and you would do anything to keep it. So how can you wilfully take it from others?”

“We can lead this war better than your Admiral or your generals can.”

“Yeah, but we’re human. It’s not about the best road to take, but the one we choose. Let us do this.”

Irala slowly nodded in approval.

“I will, but I cannot guarantee my people will continue to support you if you take this course of action.”

“Then let’s cross that bridge when we get to it, agreed?”

He reached out his hand in friendship, and Irala took it.

Taylor stood in the operations room once again, with Lasure and Irala either side of him. Both looked to him to act, and both looked uneasy. General White sat across from him and just nodded in approval. Six other high-ranking officers stood around them, but they all waited for Taylor to speak.

"First things first," he finally stated, "Our command structure is a disaster. Admiral, I understand the pressure I put you under when I elevated you to this position. You've done a fine job so far, but let's get you a little help."

Lasure looked relieved to hear those words.

"General White. I want you to assume command of all matters human that take place on this world. We need division of command between what happens with the fleet and what goes on down here. You okay with that?"

"Surely am, Colonel. I'm sorry to say that I am still in no fit shape to go to war."

"Managing our resources here is just as important as managing them in the battle for Earth. Lasure. I need ground commanders, Army and Marine brass that can coordinate what goes on when we start operating on a larger scale. I know we have plenty amongst the fleet. If they've not already been brought into the fold, do so. We need them on board."

"And you, Colonel?" Lasure asked.

"I've interrupted and meddled enough. I can't promise I won't again in the future, but I am a combat officer first and foremost. I need to be out there where I can do what I do best. And while that is my job, I cannot coordinate and manage resources, and nor would I want to. I have one purpose left in this war. You all know what it is, and I do, too. Point me in the right direction, and let me tear them down piece by piece."

"And when you are not out there fighting?"

"Then I will work as a military advisor here," he replied and turned to Irala.

"Your input is always appreciated, and I am glad to call you friend."

"Then you will not mind if I propose our next target?"

"Fire away."

But Lasure interrupted.

"Gentlemen, I have already discussed these plans with Irala, and I have many duties to attend to. I will be returning to the Diderot if you want to reach me."

The Admiral left and all looked to Irala for the next potential target. Irala pressed a few keys on a control device on his arm and a projection displayed before them.

"This military installation houses several thousand Mech warriors, but it is also has a factory that repairs and builds military craft."

"They've got that kind of operation up and running already?" Taylor asked in amazement.

"That's Volgograd," said White.

Taylor looked amiss, as the name meant nothing to him.

"A town of heavy industry. All they've ever built there are tanks and other heavy hardware. It's the perfect site."

"You say thousands, how many are we talking about?" asked Taylor.

"Five or six thousand, we believe. They are housed mostly in two areas of accommodation beside the factory," Irala added, pointing to two areas that had around twenty tower blocks each.

"So they just took up residence in the factories and accommodation already there? They certainly aren't wasting anything."

The room fell silent as Taylor looked over the 3D projected map and all its detail. He passed over warehouse after warehouse, stopping when he found a district that was walled off and had towers every fifty metres. It looked as large as one of the accommodation districts that the Mechs were using, although the buildings inside were just two storeys high.

"What is that? A prison?"

"Yes, for the slaves that assist at the site."

Taylor's face scrunched up as he tried to understand what Irala meant.

"Slaves? What slaves?"

And then it struck him, and his face became stark with sadness.

"Humans?"

Irala nodded.

Taylor turned to Jafar who had said nothing.

"Do they do that? Use other races this way?"

Jafar nodded. "Sometimes. They lost many in the war. They probably need human workers more than ever."

"Who are they?" he asked.

"Anyone strong enough to work. Soldiers, labourers."

He looked back to Irala, the horror showing on his face.

"You knew about this? Why didn't you mention it before?"

"Because we have seen you make brash decisions and act before you have thought it out."

"You're damn right. How many are in that camp?"

"Hundreds, maybe thousands. We do not know for certain."

"And you were just going to leave them there to rot and not tell us?"

Irala nodded without a second thought as if surprised that Taylor would have thought any differently.

He took a deep breath and looked at the map again, remembering how he felt when they freed Jones from an enemy facility. He began to feel sick in his stomach as he realised how many they had left behind.

"I never thought they would keep our people alive," he muttered.

"Demiran would not have," added Jafar, "But Erdogan is smarter and would not waste a resource."

"A resource? Is that what you think they are?" Taylor howled, as if in pain.

"To Erdogan they are."

"Well not to me!"

"Okay, Colonel, this is emotional for us all. Let's keep a cool head, and see if we can't work this out," said White.

Taylor tried to take longer breaths and calm down as he looked at the map once again. He could see a large oval building that was open topped. It was not far from the complex and appeared to be a stadium. It seemed to be brand new and was not of human construction.

"What is that?"

"An arena," replied Jafar quickly.

"For what?"

"To fight."

"For what? Sport?"

Jafar nodded.

"Yes, and entertainment, punishment, sacrifice."

"You're trying to tell us they're putting humans in there?" White asked abruptly.

"Yes."

Taylor shook his head in despair. He knew he shouldn't be surprised by the news, but it still disgusted him just the same. He turned back to Irala who was as calm as ever.

"You didn't tell us about this for a reason. I understand why, but that is not how allies work. You've told me how valuable your people are to you. How would you feel if I knew where some of your people were being held captive and forced to fight it out for entertainment? How would you feel if I knew that and didn't tell you because I didn't think I'd like the way you'd react to the news?"

Irala's head tilted slightly before he looked back to the prison displayed before them. It was clear to everyone that he had not given the prospect a second thought.

"We should have told you, but it would be foolish to attempt to rescue those prisoners."

"Maybe, but that's our decision to make. We're allies. We can't keep this kind of stuff from one another, okay?"

Irala nodded reluctantly.

"So, what are we going to do about this?" Taylor asked them all.

"We must attempt to destroy the facility and as many of the Krys as possible, but we cannot risk a rescue attempt," stated Irala.

"Why?"

"Come on, Colonel, you know why. The last rescue of human prisoners was a disaster, and you know it."

"You don't need to remind me, General," Taylor spat back.

"Clearly I do! The operation to rescue Commander Kelly and his people was green lit because you forced the issue. It resulted it not one human soul saved, and at a great cost to you personally, to the fleet, and to all of us!"

"We were drawn into a trap, and that was my fault, General, but is that a reason to give up on the rest of our people?"

"I think you need to start thinking with your head and not your heart. This operation will be hit and run. We will not have the time and resources to free a few hundred or thousand prisoners, and be sure they do not pose a threat to us."

"We can find a way."

"Do you think it's fair?" White asked, "Fair to ask our people to risk it all like this?"

"If I may," Irala interrupted, "You’re thinking small scale, Colonel. It is your greatest weakness; that you first look to saving one, a hundred, or a thousand. We look at the entire picture, as I believe you say."

"Yeah? And what is that?"

"That saving one hundred of your people will save just one hundred of your people. Win the war, and they are freed along with all others."

"If they live long enough for that," he replied.

But he knew what Irala was saying, and he gave it some serious thought. He looked to the General for a second opinion.

"I hate to say it, but he is right. We're not ready for this yet. We go in and strike where it hurts them most, and then we get the hell out."

"Those people locked up in there, how long do you think they have?"

White shrugged.

"And how long do you think it will take us to win this war?"

White shrugged again as he rubbed his chin and avoided the question.

"That's what I thought - no idea."

"This isn't a matter of choice," Irala said, "We have selected a target that will damage the enemy most, while risking as little of our own resources as possible. This is the primary target, although we have selected nine more secondary targets that will be attacked simultaneously."

Taylor looked shocked.

"You can't win this war on your own, you know," General White said quietly.

"And they're all like this?" he asked.

"Strategic enemy targets, yes."

"With human slaves?"

Irala nodded.

"My god, there must be thousands, tens of thousands."

"And when we're ready and able to help them, we will," said White.

He turned to Morris who he could see was looming in the background as usual and had been listening. Taylor beckoned for him to come forward.

"What do you think, Captain?"

"It's not my place to get involved in operational decisions. I shouldn't even be here."

"Bullshit," replied Taylor, "I shouldn't be here making these kinds of decisions either, but that's the way it's gone. So let's hear it. Weigh in with your thoughts, and let's see if we can't come to some sensible conclusion."

Morris paced cautiously up to the table and looked around to see they were all looking at him. There was nobody except him below the rank of Colonel, and yet Taylor's introduction had given him a level of authority he'd never known.

"Speak up, Captain," said Taylor.

Morris coughed to clear his throat and finally spoke in a quiet and reserved voice.

"When I first heard there was a chance to rescue Kelly and so many of my friends, I jumped at the chance. But the reality was a sobering experience. I'd not want to leave a single human being to the mercy of Erdogan, but neither could I ask any one of those who fight with us to risk another disaster like we saw so recently. I do not believe in good conscience that we can succeed in this mission without losses that we cannot afford."

Taylor was amazed to hear it, but it seemed to mean so much more from coming from Morris.

"Even if Kelly and the others were in one of those places? Even if you could confirm they were there?" he asked.

"Even then, Sir. We have to focus on winning this war, and not letting our emotions cloud our judgement. You care more for those under your command than any officer I've ever known, Colonel, but sometimes that leads you into rash and dangerous decisions."

Taylor looked to Kelly for final confirmation. He simply nodded.