Beyond Earth- Civil War

by Nick S. Thomas

  * * *

  "Do you think it was wise leaving Babacan with them?" Sommer asked as they walked away.

  "Sure, he'll make or break them."

  "That's what I am worried about."

  Taylor laughed.

  "Babacan is firm, but fair. He will push them only as far as they need to be pushed."

  "I could have done that."

  "Yes, you could have, but they fear him. They fear him because of his size and his strength, and that is something they need to get used to. You saw them in action. They fought as though they were terrified. That needs to be beaten out of them. Remove their fears, and we might make decent marines out of them yet."

  "I don't think you give them enough credit. That was their first action, and they did well. Even when their Sergeant was out of action, they managed to keep it together."

  "Yes, there is potential there, for sure. Some more than others, though."

  "They are a start. When do we get the next intake?"

  Taylor looked confused.

  "You talk to them as if we are going into combat, but not with so few."

  "That is what is available. The Corps has never been this small."

  "Even with the call-ups?"

  Taylor nodded. "Populations are at a low that hasn't been seen since the time we had to abandon Earth and leave it to the Krys. What we are getting is spread thin. Rivers has ambitious plans, and boy is he working at them all."

  "I don't see what the rush is."

  "Really? Haven't you seen Earth lately?"

  She grimaced. "I try not to. It's enough...enough to weep."

  Chapter 5

  "Parry! Thrust! Pivot! Thrust!" Babacan roared.

  Taylor could hear his voice echo in the corridors as they approached the training facility. He looked at his Mappad. Time was getting on.

  "Do you think he's done it?" Sommer asked.

  "It doesn't matter now, does it? We set off in less than an hour. Whatever state they are in, they will have to do."

  "If there are any left."

  They took the bend and could see that Babacan was still drilling them in a disciplined manner. They were working through a solo drill as he called each command, and were moving perfectly in sequence in time. So much so that it looked more like a dance. They were dripping with sweat as if they had been training for hours without rest.

  "No way," said Sommer.

  "All this time together, and you are still surprised that someone else can get the job done without you." Taylor smiled.

  "Attention!" Babacan ordered.

  They snapped to heal without a moment of hesitation. They were wearing none of the protective gear they had in the beginning. Several had black eyes and cuts to their arms and faces, but all were in one piece.

  "Are they ready?"

  "They will do," replied Babacan.

  Taylor looked almost as surprised as Sommer did, but also pleased. He paced back and forth as he studied them. Newman had a cut over his eye where it looked like he had been punched. Sykes was cut across his forearm and face, coming close to an eye. Benik had two black eyes, and that made Taylor smile.

  I bet that was no accident.

  "You sure gave them hell, Babacan."

  "Nothing short of what was required," he replied sternly.

  "Good. We depart within the hour. Gather your gear, and report to docking bay eleven ASAP. That is all."

  They had all expected some explanation as to where they were going and why, but they knew well enough now to not question it, or face Babacan's wrath.

  "You are going to do this unit proud, and you are going to do Colonel Taylor proud. When we fought Bolormaa, we trusted in every man and woman that stood beside us. Human and Krys, it did not matter. We were brothers, and we still are. I lost many brothers, and so did the Colonel. We all did. You must take up their place with honour. No excuses are acceptable anymore. Gather your kit, and return as my brothers. Fallout!"

  They did so gladly. Relieved to be released from Babacan and his ruthless training regime. Newman approached Taylor to press him with questions, but he didn’t mind. He had seen potential in the young Corporal.

  “Sir, were you always worked this hard in training?”

  “No, but we should have been. It would have saved a lot of lives. No, we learnt on the battlefield, at a horrific cost. So be glad you only draw sweat and not blood. Or not much of it anyway.”

  “I promise you, Colonel, that I will give everything to this effort, but I have to say something. It’s not what I signed up for, none of us did. We didn’t volunteer for this duty. For most of us it’s just about getting through our time so we can move on.”

  “Well, I wish it were that simple.”

  “How do you mean?”

  “The President is planning to extend the service that is required of citizens, and that will surely extend to those currently serving.”

  “Isn’t that a complete breach of the law?”

  “Maybe, but desperate times require desperate measures.”

  “So, you agree with him, Sir?”

  “I wouldn’t say that. But what I do know is that we need marines, and we can’t just rely on volunteers.”

  “People don’t want to volunteer because they are sick of the fighting and just want to see an end to it all. We thought we had when you killed Bolormaa. We celebrated so hard. For a few weeks, it seemed like life was going to be good. But it just isn’t.”

  “I suppose that depends what you consider good to be. There aren’t hordes of enemy warriors led by a psychopathic monster trying to make us extinct.”

  “But there is more to life than survival, and I think you know that.”

  Taylor grimaced; his own words were being thrown back at him.

  “I didn’t ever claim to have all of the answers. I can only do what I can with the resources I have available to me. Those resources draw ever fewer as the years go by. When I was awoken into this second life it seemed as though Humanity had made such vast leaps forward. Yet now we are twice as many back. But look on the bright side, you and I have made it this far. We are still breathing.”

  “So what now, Sir?”

  “Just as I told you, we have to gather support in places that we don’t currently have it.”

  “But you aren’t an ambassador or a negotiator, are you, Sir?”

  Taylor laughed.

  “Of a kind, yes. We have to get the people on side that would not otherwise care to help out.”

  “And you think you can, Sir?”

  “Maybe,” he shrugged, “We can but try.”

  * * *

  Newman stepped onto the docking bay floor in full armour, his pack of gear on his back. He was the first one there, but the others soon started to pour in. Through one of the doors, a translucent energy shield stood before them, and in the cold of space, he could see an old warship, a very heavily armoured small frigate.

  “Beautiful, isn’t she?”

  Newman almost leapt out of his skin, having not noticed the Colonel approach.

  “I wouldn’t quite say that, Sir.”

  “The Attila, one of the toughest ships to ever serve the Alliance. She may not look like much, but she’s as solid as a rock. It was the Attila that took us to Bolormaa in the end, and Captain Roworth, the same skipper.”

  Newman stuttered as if embarrassed that he had no idea.

  “That’s right, largely forgotten about now. Roworth is a hero of the Alliance, and there is not a man alive that I would rather fly with. He is an old warhorse. A stubborn bastard, and just the man you want to have behind you.”

  Menard and the rest of 2nd Squad soon arrived with Sommer leading 1st Squad, a mix of Human and Krys Marines. Twenty-two marines, that is all they had.

  “Is this it?” Sommer asked.

  “Yep, this is what we have, and so this will do.”

  Newman and his squad didn’t recognise many of the faces of 1st Squad, only Taylor, Sommer, and Babacan.


  “Say hello to one another.” Taylor began to call out the names of 2nd Squad. He moved back to the 1st, looking to the Humans first.

  “This is Lorenzo, Munro, Mai, Cal, Weber, and Holm,” he declared before moving to the Krys. “And over here we have Kilic, Aykan, Sulen and Meric. These are men and women that served beside me in the greatest war that Humanity has ever known. Some called it the war to end all wars. They are fools. It has been said before, and it will be said again, but it will never be true. War is coming. I don’t know from where or for what reason, all I know is that we have to be ready for it. That is the eternal truth. That is the lesson that two lifetimes have taught me. As marines, we have a duty be to ready for anything. For you new people, you have a lot to prove. But I would not have let you join us were I in doubt that any of you were up to the task. Any questions?”

  “Sir?” Giles asked.

  “What is it, Corporal?”

  “Sir, it is just I am still not sure what it is that we are doing here.”

  “You’re here to do whatever I tell you to do. Right now, that means having my back wherever I go. You got that?”

  “Sir, yes, Sir.”

  “That goes for all of you. I have to know I can trust my life to each and every one of you. That isn’t easy when we’ve just met. But we will get there soon enough. You have had a taste for combat, and I doubt you will ever be the same again. You lost friends that day. Remember them, but know that this is war. We fight for the living. Load up. We’re moving out.”

  He led the way into the single transport shuttle that was waiting for them. Munro leapt into the pilot’s seat, which was a surprise to Newman.

  “You fly manually?”

  “Bet your ass I do,” replied the pilot.

  “That’s Max Munro. He likes to do things his own way.”

  “And you let him, Sir?”

  “You know what I learnt in all my years? Sometimes the rules don’t result in the best course of action, and so I don’t always expect those who follow me to abide by them one hundred percent of the time. If you can do a job better, or find some way of doing a task better, then you do it. I’ve not known a better pilot since Dart.”

  “He was a good man, best pilot I ever knew,” said Munro.

  The doors sealed behind them, and they were lifting off moments later. Munro took them out rapidly, but with such precision that they would never have known it was manual control had they not seen it with their own eyes.

  “Sir, if you don’t mind me asking, why us? You’ve got some of the most experienced fighters alive today by your side. Why take our squad on?” Neyman asked.

  “Because we need new blood. I thought that much was obvious.”

  “But why not take on an experienced unit?”

  Taylor shook his head and shrugged as if he wasn’t even totally sure himself.

  “For whatever reason, we crossed each other’s paths. Now I am not saying I believe in fate or anything like that, but who knows? Sometimes it’s like certain things were just meant to be. Down on that planet where those Vargs were hunting your friends. You kept fighting. You gave it your all.”

  “You gave us the impression that we fought like shit,” said Olsen.

  Newman looked appalled, but Taylor simply smiled.

  “I told you what you needed to hear. I can see the fire in you all. It’s the reason you made it through that ordeal. But you also had a long way to come, and you have, haven’t you?” He turned to Babacan. “Haven’t they?”

  "Acceptable," he replied.

  But his stern expression soon turned to a smile, which was unnerving to Newman and the others. Taylor began to laugh, and the others soon joined in.

  "You fight for one another like you did down there, and you're going to get on just fine here."

  It wasn't long before they were putting down aboard the Attila. The ramp put down, and Taylor was first out, to be greeted by the Captain himself.

  "I didn't expect you to come calling anytime soon," said Roworth in a coarse voice as Taylor approached.

  Neither man saluted, approaching casually as friends.

  "You could have requested any ship in the fleet," added Roworth.

  "Yeah, well call it nostalgia, but this ship, and this crew have saved my life enough times that I kind of like her. "

  Newman and the others couldn't believe what they were seeing. It looked even more antiquated on the inside than it did from afar. Everything was built crudely but very sturdily. More like a factory than a modern vessel. The lighting was lower than what they were used to. Thick girders provided what seemed unnecessary structural integrity at a massive compromise in working space.

  "What the hell is this?" Benik asked.

  "Looks more like a mining vessel than a warship," replied Gallo.

  "Be careful not to judge to many things from their surface." Sommer had been standing behind them.

  "Sorry, Sir."

  "Don't be sorry, just hope you never let the Captain hear those words. He's rather attached to this old girl. So are we all, in fact."

  "This is our new squad." Taylor spoke quietly with the Captain.

  Roworth didn't look impressed.

  "They look young."

  "We were all young once."

  Roworth grumbled as if he would prefer not to be reminded of that.

  "Sir, this ship, it's...it's like nothing I have seen before," said Neyman.

  "Last of a dying breed. The Attila was one of the last ships truly built for war, before the war began. Don't let her simplicity fool you. That is not without reason. Every single element of this ship was built to fight, simplicity and strength. She can plough through vessels four times her size with her armoured prow. Withstand the worst beating you ever imagined. Is immune to cyber attacks and EMPs. She is the toughest old girl you’ll ever meet, and I don't say that lightly. That is a fact."

  "It is," added Taylor.

  Roworth looked surprised with himself in the way he had become so sentimental. It was clearly out of character, and that made Newman smile. He coughed to clear his throat and returned to his usual gruff self.

  “What is our mission, Colonel?”

  “We’re on a diplomatic mission, if you can believe it. We are looking to get some old allies back on side.”

  “Which old allies?” he asked suspiciously.

  “All of them. Lord Sarik is our first stop. He may just be our best chance.”

  “Your quarters are ready for you and your team. When would you have us depart?”

  “No time like the now.”

  “That’s true. We’re making final preparations and will be ready to jump in five,” he replied, heading back for the bridge.

  “I will join you presently, Captain.” He looked back to his two squads.

  “This is a diplomatic mission, but do not let that see your guard lowered. I have gone into more than one situation that should have been friendly, and soon ended up in a firefight, or behind bars. We live in volatile times. Don’t let the fact that we are not openly at war be a reason to think we are not in danger. We still have friends among the Krys, but enemies, too. Many of the families would see them part ways with Humanity. Babacan, Weber, Neyman, you’re with me. Everyone else, stow your gear and be ready to move out.”

  Newman looked surprised to have been singled out, but knew not to question it, and yet Taylor knew what was on his mind. When they were far enough away from the others, Taylor finally opened up.

  “You want to know why I asked for you, and not your Sergeant?”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “You are a natural leader. That has been clear to me from the moment we first met. The fact that you made Corporal was clearly well deserved. Sergeant Menard is a good man, and a good marine. I didn’t serve with him in the war, but I have read his records. I hope for him to be around for a long time, but we must all prepare for the worst. Every man and woman serving under me must be ready and able to take on the job of those above them.”
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  “Yes, Sir.”

  Taylor looked surprised that he got it, and that pleased him.

  “You’re a smart one, Corporal, I can see that. I need marines like you, so don’t go getting yourself killed anytime soon, you hear me?”

  “Aye, aye, Sir.”

  They stepped onto the bridge and found Roworth still barking his orders. They could see the jump countdown clock displayed above them, just over a minute to go. Newman could still barely believe his eyes at the crudeness of the interior of the vessel. Not crude in its quality of construction, but sturdiness and lack of luxuries.

  “They don’t build them like this anymore.”

  “Not in a long time,” replied Taylor.

  “Colonel, if I may speak freely,” said Newman.

  “Spit it out. I get the sense you’re going to anyway.”

  “Sir, we already discussed plenty of this, but still, it would be nice to know where we really stand. The President would have us believe that things are progressing and going well. But from what we have seen in the past few days, and being attached to you and you people. You are being sent as an ambassador to beg for help. Well, it just seems…it seems…”

  “Like things are shit and getting a little desperate?”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “You talk too much,” replied Weber in his German accent.

  He had an accusing look about him, as if not happy at all that the new Corporal was addressing the Colonel in such a way.

  “No, no. I don’t mind people talking, so long as they have something interesting to say,” replied Taylor.

  Weber still looked unhappy.

  “Things are desperate, and they need to change. At some time soon the full extent of it will become clear, but I think you know enough to see how important our work is here,” added Taylor.

  The countdown was almost finished.

  “Prepare to jump in five, four, three, two, one, jump!”

  Light flashed before their eyes as they made their jump. Their stomachs turned as always. It was a horrid feeling, as though you were being scrunched up into a ball and rinsed out. Within seconds they were out, but a warning siren rang out.

  “Warning, collision imminent.” It was a pre-recorded message.