Battle Earth IX (7 page)

"What's our head count?"

"Two hundred and sixty three, if you count the Germans you invited along for the ride. Twenty of those are wounded but still combat effective. All other casualties have been transferred to medical transports heading west."

He nodded in response. He prayed those casualties made it out alive, but he knew none of them were safe, no matter where they went. Taylor opened a direct channel to General White who had clearly been anticipating his contact.

"We're good to go, Sir."

"Glad to hear it, Colonel. We've got reports of multiple incoming vessels to the east. We need to be in Baltimore pronto!"

"We're lifting off presently. Good luck to you, Sir."

"And you, Colonel."

He stepped up to the pilot’s cockpit so he could see everything unfold with his own eyes.

"Take us out."

The engines were already roaring, and they were off the ground almost instantly.

"You know where we're going. Stay low, too many larger vessels prowling the skies. Do not stop or slow down for anything, you hear me?"

"Yes, Sir."

He turned back to the transport bay that was crammed with more troops and ammunition than was ideal. They could barely move over one another.

"Man the guns. Be ready to defend yourselves at all times!"

Parker was the first one to take up position at one of the hull-mounted weapons, and others soon followed suit.

"Why Baltimore?"

Taylor looked down to see Sergeant Lang sitting beside him.

"Baltimore was like a fortress, a bastion in the first war. Layer after layer of bunkers, trenches, and gun emplacements. Like nothing we've ever seen in our lifetimes."

"And it held?"

Taylor took in a breath and shook his head.

"They held a hell off a long time, more than anywhere else on the frontline. Baltimore is a symbol of resistance to Americans, and since the war, it's never really been rebuilt. If we're gonna batten down the hatches and try and make a stand, it's the place to do it."

 
It was a look of loss and defeat that overcame Lang's face at his words. Even as Taylor was saying them, he knew their situation was dire. They had been in the air for a few minutes, and Taylor was starting to believe they might make it there without incident. It was a moment of hope that would soon be trampled upon.

"Incoming!"

It was the word he had been waiting for and praying would not come. It came from one of the gunners at the starboard side, and Taylor pushed his way through to get a view for himself. As he reached the fixed weapon, the man at it was taking aim. Three ships were incoming that appeared about the size of their own. They were almost in range when dozens of objects started to launch out from the bows of the vessels. Taylor lifted his rifle to use the scope for a better look and instantly recognised the drones as just like those they had been attacked by in France.

"Web rounds!"

He dropped the magazine of his rifle and pulled out the single web round mag with the yellow identification band around its base. As he slammed it in, the gunners on his side opened fire on full auto. Fire was quickly returned, and he could hear impacts peppering the hull like hail on a windshield. As Taylor chambered a round, something impacted on the hull beside the gunner in front of him, and an explosion flashed before them. The gunner was thrown back against him, but Taylor managed to keep the two of them on their feet.

He saw the gun was missing from its mount and had been torn off the ship. The open cabin around it was scorched, and they both realised they were mere centimetres from the deadly missile.

"Too close!" Taylor shouted.

He rushed to the window and quickly raised his rifle. Drones were soaring towards them for another pass. The guns along the hull were still firing, and he saw one of the drones blasted out of the sky. But for all of their ammo expenditure, they were achieving little. He raised his rifle and took aim at two of the drones that were flying close to each other.

Gunfire rushed at their vessel, but Taylor calmed his breathing and squeezed the trigger. The shot rushed from his rifle and expanded out. The web instantly encompassed one of the drones and knocked the other off course. The trapped drone dropped from the sky like a brick.

"It works," he whispered, "Take 'em down!"

Others rushed to the gunports and opened fire with volleys of the web rounds that saw the drones being swatted like flies from fifty metres away. The fixed guns turned their fire to the drone carriers and bombarded them with prolonged bursts. Taylor sighed in relief as the rest of them cheered at their victory. He looked around; Lang and the other Germans were genuinely impressed. He didn't have the heart to tell the Sergeant that the drones were little more than a scouting party.

"Baltimore, here we come!" Parker shouted.

Taylor was the first to step down the ramp onto the surface and stopped to look out at the ten-metre high walls either side of them, thinking of how they had seen layers just like it from the air.

"Looks like Minas Tirith," said Lang.

"What?" Silva asked.

"Layer after layer of thick walls housing a city. Tolkien?"

Silva shook his head and that brought a smile to Jones' face.

"We'll bring some culture to your world yet," he added.

Silva was still oblivious to what they were talking about and shrugged it off.

A dozen friendly vessels passed overhead, coming in to land throughout the city, and many more could be seen on the ground. Troops and vehicles were busy at work all around them.

"Will it be enough?"

"Probably not, Jones," replied Taylor.

Jones could not help but laugh at his scepticism, to avoid crying instead. Taylor was looking around for some semblance of authority. Army and Marine personnel were intermingled, and he could make out the uniforms of cops and Coast Guard. National Guard and Marine reservists were there too.

"One big happy family," said Silva.

A stripped down utility mule jeep parted some of the troops and stopped by them. It had just a single seat for the driver; the rest being a flat topped carrying deck.

"Colonel Taylor?" asked the driver.

"Yeah," he replied casually.

"Sir, General Heath requests your presence immediately, and that of Captain Jones if he is with you."

"And he couldn't have called this in?"

"Comms are haywire, Sir. We've got interference coming in all over the place, and we have no idea who is listening in. Fixed line communications have been established every one hundred metres on all the walls for when they are needed."

"Going old school."

"Yes, Sir."

"King, you know what to do. We'll be back shortly." Taylor climbed onto the flat-topped vehicle with Jones.

"Sorry about the ride, Sir, but we're a little hard pressed right now."

The driver raced off, causing troops nearby to jump out of the way. Taylor and Jones hung on rather unceremoniously to the rim of the storage basket they were sitting on. They passed through the huge reinforced gates of one of the walls and could see troops piling down into bunkers below that were integrated into the giant structures.

"Defences above and below?" Jones commented.

"We started digging in a few years back until their armour started rolling over us, so we started building up!" replied the driver.

"You were there for the defence of the city?"

"What's left of it, Sir, yes."

"So someone got out alive," whispered Jones.

They passed through another wall, and as they did, they could see four ships coming into land and a welcome party waiting for whoever it was.

"That's General Heath, Sir," the man said, pointing to a soldier who would have looked more at home by Taylor's side than in a war room. Their vehicle came to a halt twenty metres back from the welcome party. As they climbed off, they saw General White step off one of the ships and approach Heath. Taylor continued right on up to them, and White quickly turned to address him.

"Colonel Taylor, this is General Heath, US Army."

Heath looked to be in his early fifties and stood eye to eye with Mitch. His face was pot-holed and rough, as if it had been riddled with shrapnel. He was in fighting shape and wore full Reitech gear, being an almost mirror of Mitch himself, though his helmet was off and revealing his almost bald head that had just a little grey hair either side.

"Of all the places we could have met before, Colonel, I can't think of anywhere I would rather have had you on side if a shit storm comes our way, than right here now!"

Taylor smiled.

I like this General already,
he thought.

"We have no more time for pleasantries. Gentlemen, please follow me."

He stopped for a moment and looked to Jones.

"Captain Charlie Jones?"

"Yes, Sir," he quickly replied, with a puzzled expression.

"Follow me also."

With that, the General turned and quickly strode towards the entrance to a bunker that was set into the ground. Jones looked to Taylor for answers, but he had none as they stepped down below the surface. It wasn't long before they were standing around a map of the area in Heath's war room, just as Taylor had been so many times before. He never liked it. He was a field officer and never wanted to be anything more.

"Any moment we should be hearing from General Dupont, who I know you are familiar with."

"Yes, Sir," replied Taylor, "but how, may I ask?"

"We have a number of emergency lines set up directly to key installations around the World. We learnt a lot from the last war, and being in the dark again is not something I want to experience. I was here in Baltimore last time we took a stand here, and I can tell you it wasn't pretty."

Taylor could tell Heath had been a fighting man back then. There was no way he’d sat at a desk during that war, with the way he held himself and talked.

"You gave 'em quite a fight."

"I was a Major back then. When I got out, I had less than fifty men still walking and under my command."

A light flashed on the display beside Heath, and he quickly answered before Taylor could even think of a response to his comment. An image of Dupont was projected, and Taylor could already see the pained expression and pale face of a man who was hanging by a thread. He began to open his mouth but stopped and stared at Taylor.

"You made it?"

"I don't die that easy," replied Mitch.

It brought a smile to Dupont's face and the faintest of hope back to his eyes.

"What can I do for you, General?" asked Heath.

"I am sorry to say, and I must be blunt about this. This is a plea for help. Our lines are crumbling. Our armies in the south have broken and have been scattered to the wind. We are on the ragged edge. Will you come to us in this time of need?"

Heath took a deep breath and sighed.

"General Dupont, I assure you I would give you all that you require, would it be even possible. I cannot make that decision, nor could I rightly weaken the defences here in Baltimore. I am sorry to say it, but we aren't fairing much better. We're digging in to weather this storm."

"Then we are alone?"

"You must be able to get support your side of the water? Where are the Spanish, the British?"

"In the same boat, I am afraid. And many of the UEN nations are in open civil war since the arrival of Erdogan's forces."

Dupont went silent and for a few moments and was close to weeping. He finally looked back at them. "This is like nothing we have faced before. I'm getting reports of technology we have never experienced, and lines are breaking easily. I don't know how much longer this can go on for."

"You just keep up the fight, and we'll do the same. Give them all we’ve got. Look to your allies. Even now, troops are en route to support us here. When we can, we'll come and help you."

"Thank you, General. One last thing, I asked if you knew the whereabouts of Captain Charlie Jones?"

"Yes, he is here with us now."

Jones stepped up beside Taylor into the view. He looked suspiciously at Dupont and said nothing.

"Captain, I am sure you would like to have news of your wife. She is safe within the facility here. If you can be directed into private quarters, I can have you put through."

Jones looked at Heath, who simply pointed to a door off to one side.

"Thank you," Jones said and walked cautiously to the room, not knowing what to expect.

The door was shut behind him, and a screen projection displayed before him. It was not Coco, but a doctor he did not recognise.

"Captain Jones?" asked the woman.

He nodded in return.

"I want to let you know that both your wife and unborn child are safe and secure and in good health."

Jones was still silent. The doctor peered into his frozen expression.

"Captain?"

"Child?" he whispered.

"Your wife is nine weeks pregnant," she said.

"I didn't know."

"I'm sorry. I had no idea."

"No...it’s okay."

Jones didn't know what else to say.

"The important thing here is that Coco is recovering well and will be able to leave shortly, though, I am not sure where... well... where she can go."

It suddenly dawned on him the danger she was in, and just how far he was from being able to help her. The doctor was as speechless as he was now and looked a little flustered at having been caught in such an uncomfortable position.

"I can put you through to her for a few moments," she quickly added.

He nodded. "Please."

He was still stunned as the screen transitioned to Coco, who was sitting up in bed. She had evidently been waiting for him because she was looking right into his eyes with a smile.

"How are you?" she asked.

It struck him as bizarre. Like they had just woken up in their remote farm without a care in the world. He tried to respond, but his throat was dry. He coughed to clear this throat and finally managed to speak.

"Good...sort of."

Both were quiet, as they tried to think of something to say or someway of asking what they were both thinking. Jones looked away for a moment and then to her as she hung onto his every expression, waiting for him to speak.

"So...you're..."

She nodded and then smiled.

"I know it's not exactly the best timing, and I didn't know until yesterday...but..."

"But nothing, it's the best news I've heard all year."

She was silent once more and began to weep.

"What is it?" he asked.

She tried to wipe away the tears as she replied. "I thought you'd be so mad."

"Why on earth would you think that?"

She sobbed once more. "I don't know."

"I came in here expecting the worst, and I've got the two best pieces of news I could ever hope for, and never for a moment dreamt could be true. We just have to get you out of there. I'll find a way to get to you, don't you worry."

She shook her head, and her face suddenly tightened and became more serious.

"No, you will not."

"What?"

"I'm already out of this fight. I won't have you as well. You have people who need you. Taylor needs you."

"They'll understand."

"No, they'd accept you leaving, but they might not survive it. I'm safe here."

"But..."

"No," she said firmly, "I will not have you leave your post because of me. You will stay there and do your duty."

He wanted to fight her on it, but he could see the determination in her eyes. The door beside Jones opened, and the man who had led him in there poked his head around the corner.

"Sir, I'm sorry, but we need to free up the line."

"All right."

He turned back to her.

"I have to go, but you look after yourself, you hear?"

"I will, look after both of us," she said with a smile, "Good luck, Charlie."

The screen went black, and Jones shook his head in astonishment.

"Stubborn fool," he muttered to himself with a smile.

His mind was reeling as he left the room to join Taylor and the other officers, who he found to be in deep conversation. Mitch could see the look on Jones' face and suspected the worst. Without interrupting the discussion, he looked into Jones' eyes and mimed the words, 'you okay?' Jones shrugged and nodded, but Taylor couldn't tell if he was genuinely okay, or if his stiff upper lip attitude would give the impression he was either way.