Beyond Earth- Civil War

by Nick S. Thomas

  The man leapt into the crowd of creatures, blocking the path between them. He cut and thrust from side to side, carving a path towards them. At his back a small elite team were following suit. Two of the Krys with him opened fire with cannons so large that no Human would be able to carry. The rounds burst through the creatures, passing through one after another, and cutting them down by the dozen. The man at the head of the team had three of the creatures blocking his path now. He cut the legs out from one, spinning past and striking another with his shield. His spear impaled the third, and he cut the front legs out from the one still standing. He stamped on the head of his final victim, carrying on towards Newman and the others. He left his team fighting, confident in their abilities.

  Four marines rushed out from the other two craft and joined the battle. Muzzle flashes zipped past in every direction, and blades flashed with sparks as they cut their way through the enemy. Finally, the man was close enough for them all to see his face, and their suspicions were confirmed.

  "No way," said Giles.

  "Taylor?" Neyman murmured in disbelief.

  It was unmistakeable. The scarred and battle-hardened veteran strode up to them confidently; the blood of his vanquished foes dripping from his blade and splashed across his armour. Colonel Mitch Taylor, the hero of both the Krys and Morohtan Wars. He was in his early fifties now, his hair mottled with a salt and pepper greyness at the edges, but he looked as fit, strong, and fast as ever.

  "How, how is this possible, Sir?"

  "We can talk about it later. Move your asses, Marines!"

  They didn't need to be told twice. The rest of the marines encircled them; laying down fire as Taylor led them back towards the ship he had landed in. The nearest Krys was recognisable to them as well; Babacan, one of Taylor's most famous friends, a formidable and famous fighter in his own right. Kilic was a few metres further back. It was like a dream to Newman and his team. These were celebrities and heroes they would never have hoped to meet, let alone have them come to their rescue.

  Taylor was striding back towards the vessel at a steady pace, but with utter confidence in his swagger. One of the beasts lunched for him, but he slashed with his spear and slit its throat. The body crashed down at his feet, and he continued on. Several of the others were hacking and slashing at the creatures in close combat with their Assegais. Newman and his team carried the short close combat sidearm like all marines, but they had long thought it superfluous; a relic of their forebears, but Taylor's comrades were using their weapons to devastating effect.

  Newman hauled his Sergeant into the craft, and the others followed. The rest of them poured in as two at the door gave covering fire. Kilic was last in, and a creature’s claws cut deeply into his shoulder and upper arm. He growled in pain and anger. As he spun around, he took hold of the creature by its head, snapped its neck, and threw it back onto its own kind. The ramp lifted, and another's head popped through, but Kilic kicked it back out.

  The craft was lifting off the ground before the door was even shut. Newman could hardly believe they were still alive. He looked over to Taylor and his team. It felt as though he were in a dream.

  "Well, damn," he said to himself with a smile.

  Chapter 3

  The ramp lowered once again, and Newman helped the Sergeant up. To his amazement Taylor took hold of the Sergeant on his other side to help him, too. They carried him out and onto a gurney. That was when Newman spotted the extent of the wounds on Kilic's back. The claws had cut down to the bone on his shoulder. It struck him, that for all Taylor and his comrades were, they were no more invincible than anyone else. It made the rescue seem even more significant to him. Taylor himself had come to their rescue and risked everything for a few marines he had never met.

  "Never thought I'd see the day that Colonel Taylor saved my ass," Menard said as they laid him down.

  "The honour is mine," said Taylor.

  But the Sergeant turned to Newman.

  "When the time came, you stepped up. You deserve those stripes, you know that, don't you?"

  "You just take it easy, Sarge."

  He was taken away, and Newman found himself facing off with Colonel Taylor. Taylor was a hero to them all, but so much so he was almost a mythical figure they'd never expect to see in person.

  "Colonel, if you don't mind me asking, how the hell did you pull that off? How did you know how and where to find us? How did you know we were in trouble? And why come yourself? You jumped into a very dangerous situation without knowing anything about it."

  Taylor smiled. "Well, damn, that's more than a few questions."

  "Yes, Sir," he replied as if expecting answers to them all.

  "Let me ask you this. You've just been through combat. A tough one at that it seems. When you saw your fellow marines in trouble, did you look before you leapt?"

  "Well, no, Sir."

  "Then you have your answer."

  "But you don't know us, Sir. We've never met."

  "You're one of us. And when the time came, you fought, and you gave everything you had. Without knowing anything else about you, that would be enough for me to call you a brother."

  Newman's eyes swelled as tears almost came to his eyes.

  "Carry on like this, and you've got big things in your future. If that future doesn't kill you first."

  Taylor went to leave, but Olsen intervened.

  "Sir, you didn't answer the Corporal's question."

  "What was that?"

  "How you were able to find us, or even know we needed help," she asked in an accusatory tone.

  Taylor didn't know how to take it for a moment, but he soon smiled.

  "Well, you've got some balls, haven't you, Private?"

  "Yes, Sir."

  "Okay. M590, we suspected there was something hostile down there after we lost contact with the research team."

  "And yet you only sent us? Two squads?" Newman asked.

  Taylor was looking increasingly angry.

  "Do you have any idea how thinly we are spread? We have a fraction of the resources the Alliance once had, and spread out further than ever before as we try and find some answers in this life. You know why it was me coming to your aid?"

  "No, Sir."

  "Because we are all that was spare. There aren't enough marines for what we are expected to do. Not enough training, not enough equipment. We have sweet fucking all to do what is expected of us." He turned to leave.

  "Things are really that bad?"

  Taylor stopped, dipped his head, and sighed. He looked mentally exhausted, and Newman could see he there was no doubt he had spoken the truth, even though he shouldn't have.

  "See to your team, Corporal. We need men and women like you."

  "Sir, there were twenty of us when we set out for this mission. We are now eight, with two in the infirmary."

  Taylor nodded. "Be thankful there are any of you left at all."

  He strode out without another word. Newman appreciated his honesty, but the news brought no comfort at all.

  "What the hell?" Benik had been listening in.

  "Yeah, that's not the picture that was painted to us," added Giles.

  "Sobering, isn't it?" A Captain stepped up beside them.

  She had been with Taylor's team, but they didn't recognise her, a dark-haired slight woman in her mid-thirties.

  "Captain Sommer," she said.

  "You were there in the last war, weren't you?" Newman asked.

  "Yes I was."

  "Is everyone in Taylor's unit officers?"

  Olsen’s tone was aggressive, and she seemed to make no apologies for it.

  "Many of us."

  "Why?"

  "We are what's left. Taylor doesn't command a front-line unit anymore. We are advisors, and attached to him in his duties as a military advisor to the President."

  "Advisor, why isn't he more than that?"

  "Because the Colonel doesn't want it. He never wanted to be anything but a fighter, just like you."


  She turned to leave.

  "Thanks," said Newman.

  She looked surprised.

  "Thanks for saving our asses."

  "No problem, but just remember that, because one day you can repay the favour."

  She rushed on after Taylor, leaving them to lick their wounds. After a few minutes she caught up, as Taylor ambled through the ship as if he had no idea where to be.

  "Tough, isn't it?"

  "What?"

  "Being reminded of what you used to be like?"

  He grimaced as if not knowing what she meant.

  "You envy them to a degree, don't you?"

  "They were almost wiped out to the man, hardly," he snarled.

  "But the simplicity of it all, to be given a mission and to carry it out. To fight the enemy without having to know and deal with everything that goes on in the background. It's why you wouldn't take the position as Commandant of the Corps, isn't it?"

  "You think about all this too much."

  "But it's true, isn't it?"

  Taylor didn't respond, but he didn't look comfortable with the line of questioning.

  "All right, let me ask you this. Were we supposed to go down there or not?"

  "I am a military advisor to the President, and that gives me the authority to make decisions as and when I see fit."

  "So that's a no, then?"

  "Of course it's a fucking no. You think the Council would approve of me going into a situation like that?"

  "Then why did you?"

  "Because marines were in trouble, and we were able to do something about it."

  "And that's it? This has nothing to do with you wanting to get back into action and see some danger in your life again?"

  "I won't deny it felt good, but that's not the reason I went down there."

  "Fair enough." She could tell he was being honest.

  “Are things really that bad? Like you told the Corporal?”

  Taylor nodded in agreement with a pained look on his face.

  “Christ, how did it get to this?”

  “You were there, you got to see it first-hand. Bolormaa massacred our people across the universe. It’s a miracle any of us made it through.”

  “Rivers promised us we could get Earth back to the way it was. But it’s been more than a decade since Bolormaa, and where are we? Scrambling about on distant worlds, with too few resources and people to do the work that is asked of us.”

  “Was there a question in there?”

  “He can’t do it, can he? Rivers can’t save Earth?”

  It was the uncomfortable question that had been on Taylor’s mind for a long time, and he felt no nearer to answering it now than ever before. They had ridden on such a high after defeating Bolormaa, and yet it seemed like a distant memory. She just didn’t matter anymore. They had larger concerns.

  “The people keep electing him because he makes these promises, but how long until they realise he can’t keep them? Do you have any idea what will happen when that time comes?”

  Taylor had nothing to add.

  “Hope is what has kept us together this long, what happens when that hope erodes away?”

  “What do you want from me?” he finally asked.

  “You have Rivers’ ear. Speak to him, try to find some way forward.”

  “How the hell am I supposed to do that? Rivers is the smartest man I know, probably the smartest man alive. Don’t you think he’d be doing more if he could? If he doesn’t have the answers, I don’t know who does.”

  “Then lie. At least a lie would be better than the truth right now. People need something to hang on to. Hell, I do, too.”

  Taylor grimaced as he took a deep breath. He knew this day was coming, but had avoided it for as long as possible.

  “You must go to the President, and try and talk some sense in to him. We lost twelve marines down there because we are spread thin looking for something that just doesn’t exist.”

  “And yet you said a lie is better than the truth? Maybe it is better to chase after something that we can never find, than to know there is nothing we can do.”

  She was already shaking her head.

  “I know you don’t believe that. You and Parker had a vision of a life together. A life on Earth, and even though she is gone, there are still millions left living in hope of the same thing.”

  He didn’t want to admit it, but she was right.

  “Thank you,” he said quietly.

  “For what?”

  “For giving it to me straight. I feel like I am surrounded by yes men these days, and I think the President is, too. I need people like you, so don’t go dying on me anytime soon.”

  “You kidding me? I am going to outlive you, Sir.”

  He laughed.

  “You get that I am a few hundred years old now?”

  “You don’t exactly look it though, do you?”

  He smiled. “I feel it, believe me.”

  “I don’t believe you. I saw you out there. You fought as hard and fast as the first time I ever saw you go into combat.”

  He nodded with appreciation. It was nice to know someone still had his back.

  * * *

  Newman sat with his head in his hands. He didn’t know what to say or do with himself. He’d supposedly been prepared for combat, and for the possibility of the loss of his friends, but none of it had really prepared him for it. He was still covered in sand and dirt, as well as the blood of both Sergeant Menard and the enemies they had vanquished. His face was filthy where he’d wiped the sweat from it with the back of his hand. The smell was awful, and yet he just couldn’t move to go and do anything. The losses weighed heavily on him, and the shock of everything they had witnessed finally settled in.

  “Hey!” Someone lightly kicked his foot.

  Olsen was standing over him, but he didn’t have any words for her.

  “You did a great job out there.”

  He didn’t believe her and tried to speak, but his mouth was dry. He coughed, trying to clear it.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Shit got bad down there, and there is no denying it. But when we hit rock bottom, you stepped up. We are alive because you kept us together.”

  “I…I….just…”

  “You did your job, and a whole lot more. None of us had ever seen anything like that before. You could have frozen. You could have panicked. But you didn’t. When the Sarge was hurt, you did what you needed to do, and what we all needed.”

  He didn’t quite know how to respond, but it felt as though a great weight had been lifted from his shoulders.

  “When we were down there, you went at things fearlessly, as if you’d done it all a thousand times before. How do you do it?” he asked her.

  “If you think I wasn’t scared, you are wrong. I just know it does me a disservice to dwell on it. My mind can’t wander when my squad needs me. And don’t tell me you didn’t do the same. I saw you down there. There was no panic or hesitation. When we needed you, you were there for us. It’s no different.”

  “But, you, you looked so confident from the moment we landed.”

  “So did you. You might have had doubts, and so did we all. You had worries and fears. You thought we might die down there. We all did. What goes on in our heads and what we do to act, are different things altogether.”

  It was such a relief. He couldn’t see how he could be anything but mortified by what they had experienced, but to know she felt the same was welcome news. He had thought he was not up to the job after seeing how she handled herself. She sat down beside him.

  “You know I don’t think even Colonel Taylor is fearless."

  "Are you kidding me? You saw him down there. He was everything we have led to believe. You grew up on the stories same as me. Taylor is a legend. He defeated Bolormaa in personal combat. He can't be scared of anything."

  "You're wrong. You can be scared and still be able to function. You proved that yourself. All of us did.
We made it back here because we kept it together. We proved today that we are worthy of serving in the same Corps as heroes like Taylor. And not only that, you proved you were the right man to lead our squad. You see, look at them." She gestured towards the rest of the survivors, "They believe in you, and so do I."

  * * *

  Thirty-six hours later.

  Taylor paced towards Rivers’ office. He was groaning and sighing as guards saluted him enthusiastically. He wasn’t in the mood for it. But more than that, he wasn’t looking forward to the discussion he was about to have. Rivers wasn’t the easiest man to get through to, but he had no choice. Things needed to change, and he was one of the only people in the Alliance with the power to force that change. He passed alongside windows that looked down onto Earth from the orbital station above. He couldn’t take his eyes of the ruined world. It looked more like a gas giant than the world he used to know. It left him feeling cold inside to know that he had fought for so long to defend Earth. But it hardened his resolve to push for change with Rivers. He was sick of seeing his home in ruins.

  Nobody asked for credentials or tried to stop him, even the President’s secretary waved him through. The doors to the Presidential office slid open, but as they did, he heard the crash of glass as something smashed inside the room. He reached for his pistol instinctively.

  “It’s okay. He’s fine,” said the secretary.

  Taylor wasn’t quite so convinced. He lowered his weapon, but did not holster it as he made his way inside. The room was vast, but it wasn’t an office at all. It was a science lab. There was equipment scattered scruffily everywhere. A deconstructed AR2 suit stood out to him, a wondrous piece of technology that had propelled them forward in the war against Bolormaa, while it was working. What he would give to have the use of that technology once more. Not that there seemed the need for it anymore. For once it wasn’t equipment that he was lacking, but the men and women to use it what he already had.

  Something flew across the room, and he lifted his pistol to track the movement. A glass beaker crashed into a wall already wet from the same thing happening moments before. Taylor and Rivers spotted one another in the same moment. The scientist flopped down into an office chair and slumped with a sigh. Taylor holstered his weapon as he stepped up slowly to the President.