Battle Earth IX (3 page)

"How much further?"

"Not far now. The escape pods are just around the corner."

Taylor carried on as Lang pointed the way to go. A few bodies swept past them as the water levels were reaching their knees. Debris crashed into his boots and greaves. They took the bend and were met by a line of shuttle doors, each a metre wide.

"No, no!" cried Lang.

Each one of the doors had a thick glass window at the centre and was full with water where the pods had been launched. Every single one was gone.

"Lang, are these the only ones we can use?"

Lang collapsed down onto his knees weeping, but Taylor hauled him back to his feet.

"Concentrate, Sergeant!"

He shook his head. "None that we can reach quickly."

Taylor looked around to the others. They were all waiting for him to come up with a solution.

"I'm not going down with this ship," he stated, "How deep do you reckon we are?"

Jones shrugged. "How the hell can we tell?"

"We haven't been here long. There’s still plenty of air and structural integrity from what I've seen."

"Now you're just living on hopes and prays," Rains joined in.

"Yeah, well what else do we have? Ain't no one coming to our rescue. Seal your helmets. We're going for a swim."

Parker shook her head.

"Even if we have got enough air, we open that, and the pressure could kill us instantly."

"And we stay in here, we're dead anyway. I'll take my chances out there. Masks down!"

They quickly responded as he raised his rifle to take aim at one of the pod doors. A second later, he fired a burst at two of the clamps. The door prised open and was launched off its frame by the forces of water gushing in. Taylor turned and looked to Parker; the water had reached his waist. It was their best chance, and they both knew it, but that didn't make it any less terrifying.

They all watched and waited as the water rose up to their masks and then above the doorway. Taylor did not say a word as he activated his boosters and pushed off for the exit. He knew the others would follow without a command. He could not see a thing through the water and only continued to drive upwards, using his arms to swim a little faster. A display light flashed inside his helmet, and he knew exactly what it meant; he was running out of air.

The water was getting lighter and clearer, and suddenly he burst out onto the surface. The warm rays of the sun sitting high in the sky met him. He clicked back the mask on his helmet and breathed in the air with relief; his comrades arose beside him. Parker appeared just a few metres away and swam over to him, wrapping her arms around him.

"We did it!"

"Yeah, we're alive, but for how long?" he said, looking out around them.

Debris lay scattered across the ocean, and they looked up at dozens of alien ships entering the atmosphere overhead.

"Not again, how can this happen again?" pleaded Eli.

"Erdogan, that bastard. We will never know peace while he still draws breath."

Taylor was looking at the Mappad on his arm, which told him they were a little over a thousand klicks from the Florida coastline.

Believe it when I see it,
he thought.

Mitch hadn't been stateside in a long while now, and last time he had, it hardly felt like home. He looked up to see his comrades looked as weary as he did. More than twenty of them were sitting atop one of the many pieces of debris from the Nassau. It looked like one of the double skinned interior walls and at least had good buoyancy.

"Reckon anyone is coming for us, Mitch?" asked Parker.

It was the question on everyone's mind.

"I've tried every channel I can, can't reach a soul."

"Can't be easy to miss a battleship plummeting to Earth," Eddie grinned.

"On any other day you'd be right. But today, who's counting how many ships have entered the atmosphere? It's chaos everywhere."

"Well, you're a beacon of hope."

As Parker said it, they heard a roar of engines in the sky and looked up half expecting to see Mech forces descending upon them. Taylor lifted his hand to shield his eyes from the sun's rays and squinted to make them out. He stood up and gripped his rifle with his other hand, but he quickly recognised they were not of alien construction. One of the ships descended to just two metres above the water, and a lower hull door opened, revealing Captain King in the entrance.

"Looks like you need a ride?"

Taylor couldn't believe their luck, though he knew deep down it wasn't luck at all. He had good people he could depend on.

"Your timing is impeccable."

"Well whatta ya know, takes the Rangers to save leathernecks from the wet stuff. Don't ever think you'll be living this one down."

Taylor smiled in response and could not help but take it in good spirits, after having been left adrift on the ocean. He looked around to at King's other ships hauling crew from the water. He took a running jump and leapt up into the doorway with the Captain.

"What are your orders, Colonel?" he asked.

He looked overhead to see three huge enemy craft looming over them and heading west for the east coast of the United States. He looked back across the open ocean to the east and thought of the friends they had left there, but he knew what he had to do.

"Too long have we fought on foreign soil; good old US of A needs us, whether she knows it or not. Set a course for Quantico. We're heading home."

"Quantico?" King asked.

"Last I knew it's where General White was. We ain't exactly on best terms, but he's as good as any place to start. Contact them once we're en route to alert them of our arrival."

"Comms are jammed. We've got a few klicks range and that's about all."

"Well that's fucking great. Nice to know some things never change."

As Sergeant Lang came aboard, King looked out at the other crew of the Nassau still lying stranded at sea in life pods and various other pieces of debris.

"What about them? We can't take many more."

Taylor looked out and could see a ship's silhouette in the distance.

"Make a fly past of whatever that vessel is, and alert them to the crewmembers that need recovering."

"And if they don't want to get involved? Can't even see if it's one of ours from here, could just as well be civilian."

"I don't give a shit who it is. There are people in the water who need help, and they're gonna give it."

Two hours later the coast of America was in sight. Taylor knew he should be glad to see it, but he wasn't. In the distance to the south, he could see enemy vessels over Norfolk and a similar sight over New Jersey to the north.

"What do we do?" asked King.

They were standing in the cockpit with the pilot and co-pilot, astonished by what they were seeing and looking for direction.

"Continue as planned. There'll be whole divisions slugging it out down there. We've done enough for now."

"Enough?" King asked, "Hardly looks like it."

"Today the war became an entirely different animal, one we are all familiar with though. We need to get back to whoever is in command around here, and work out what the hell is going on and what we can do."

As they approached Quantico, a warning light flashed, and the pilot quickly piped up.

"We've just been locked by local air defences."

A transmission came in as they closed in to comms distance.

"Identify yourselves immediately, or you will be fired upon."

The pilot gave his credentials, and the line went silent.

"Hold position and await further communication. Do not enter Quantico air space until advised."

Taylor tapped the pilot's shoulder as he went to respond and stepped up to take over.

"Negative. This is Colonel Mitch Taylor of the Inter-Allied Regiment. We need immediate permission to land, do you hear me?"

There was silence once again for a moment and then a response.

"Negative, hold position and await instructions."

"We're coming in whether you like it or not. We have hundreds of US troops and allies aboard, and we ARE coming in."

Taylor gestured for the pilot to do as such, but he was frozen solid.

"Take us in," Taylor clarified.

The officer shook his head. "They'll shoot us out of the sky."

"Not a chance, trust me. Now do it."

He did as ordered, but his hands were shaking a little at the prospect of being blasted out of the sky by their own side. They began to surge forward, and the base was in sight now. They could see gun towers tracking their movement and missile silos with doors wide open.

"Sure about this?" King asked him.

"Not really," he whispered, "but we either go forward and risk being shot down, or go back where we'll definitely be fired upon."

"Rock and a hard place, then."

"Alter course immediately, or you will be fired upon!"

Nobody responded, so Taylor had to.

"This is Colonel Mitch Taylor. Get me General White immediately. The General will clear us to land."

"Hold your current position to confirm."

"That's a negative. We're coming in. If you can't confirm we are friendlies, that's your problem. We've just fought through hell to get back here, and I won't wait another minute to get down on the ground. If you want to be responsible for the deaths of hundreds of Americans and our allies, you pull the trigger. Otherwise, stand down and get the General on the line."

The comms went silent as they passed over the air space of Quantico, and they could see a few of the gun towers tracking their position. They were waiting for them to open fire at any moment when finally General White appeared on the screen before them.

"Taylor? That you?"

"Yes, Sir."

"What the hell are you doing, and where the hell have you been? Get your ass on the ground now!"

Taylor smiled. "Just what we've been trying to do, General."

"Well do it quicker."

The transmission ended, and finally a voice came over the comms once again and said sternly, "You are cleared to land at sector 19F."

"And you couldn't have just waited for that?" the pilot asked Taylor, "We could have had our butts blown out the sky there."

"And we would have been left hanging a few hours if we waited in line for them to go through proper channels."

They were soon on the ground, and as Taylor's boots hit the surface, his name was being called. A Lieutenant strode up and saluted him.

"Sir, General White requests your presence immediately."

"Yeah, thought he might."

Taylor looked around at their surroundings. They were on home soil, but he didn't recognise it. He'd not been to Quantico in as long as he could remember.

"Sir, I must insist on haste, as was made clear to me by the General."

He looked back to King and Jones; both were waiting for his command.

"You can be guaranteed we'll be heading for the eye of the fucking storm before long, so get whatever food, rest, and supplies you can."

"So eloquently put," Jones replied.

The Lieutenant didn't say another word as he drove Taylor to a command and control facility. He was shown through without a single check into a command centre that was packed out with projection displays and several dozen personnel. General White stood at the head of a large table with his command staff surrounding him. He looked up and shook his head when he saw Taylor approaching.

"Colonel, what the hell happened up there? I don't know whether to arrest you or give you a goddamn medal."

"Then do neither, Sir."

White shook his head once again and took in a deep breath.

"You're a son of a bitch, Mitch, but don't ever forget you are our son of a bitch."

He relaxed a little as he leaned against the table and looked at the 3d relief map projected before them. It showed enemy craft in real time, and he could see air force fighter wings en route to engage.

"Nobody has heard from you since you took off to disable the Earth Defence Grid. The results of which are mostly clear, but I have been authorised to conduct a debriefing for the President. Make it quick," said White.

Taylor looked around, and all eyes were now on him.

"It was a trap. There was no way we could disable all those weapons. All we could do was destroy them. Which we did, and is precisely what Erdogan wanted."

"How do you know that?"

"Because he came to me, as a hologram or whatever. He's mocking us, and he has a right to. He led us exactly where he wanted to, and look where we are now."

"So that's it?"

"That's all that's important."

White nodded. He clearly hadn't expected any better news.

"So it is Erdogan this time?"

"Afraid so. But he's the one, the one that holds it all together. We finish him, and it’s over for good."

"I think we have more imminent concerns right now."

Taylor looked shocked.

"We're losing ground fast. We are getting reports of enemy forces throughout the United States and EA nations. It's a mess, Mitch. Honestly, I don't know if we can make it through this one."

Taylor was taken aback and looked around expecting some of the other officers to call him up on his defeatist attitude, but he could see they were no different.

"The invasion isn't even a day through yet, and you are giving up?" he asked them all.

Nobody responded.

"We are fighting and dying out there while you lot cry and cower in your bunker. Well, fuck you, fuck you all."

White was ashamed enough that he did not answer, despite Taylor's ridicule. The room was silent as everyone waited for Taylor to continue and give them some answers.

"We have just one choice here. We fight or we die. I didn't fight all these years to lie down and die now after all that. Can you honestly tell me that everything we did these past few years was for nothing? No, we have beaten these bastards more than once. We've beaten everything they have thrown at us, and now is the final hurdle. Erdogan himself."

"What do we do?" asked one of the other officers at the table.

"What we always do, stand and fight," Taylor quickly retorted.

"If you'd not destroyed our defences, maybe we wouldn't have to be fighting on our own soil," snapped one of the other Generals.

Taylor turned and looked in disgust at the man who he didn't recognise. The General was a good few pounds overweight and looked like a man who'd never seen combat in his life. His face was red and sweaty, which only exaggerated the shine on his baldhead. He was all Taylor despised in armchair generals.