Beyond Earth- Civil War

by Nick S. Thomas

  “I don’t understand. We came here peacefully.”

  “So did they,” he said, pointing to the transports floating in space around them, “These men don’t care who or what we are, only what they can take.”

  “What would you have me do?”

  “Don your armour, Captain, and prepare for a good death.”

  “A good death? Why would I do that?”

  “Have you forgotten what it is to be Krys? There is no shame in dying in battle.”

  Asil understood his words, but he could not believe it was coming to that. Yet as he looked back at the incoming ships, he knew he didn’t have long.

  “Battle stations, all crew prepare to be boarded,” he said in amazement, as if he’d never expected to utter the words in his career. He rushed to his quarters that lay beside the bridge, and with the door open and in full sight of the crew, he began to pull on his armour.

  “What are you waiting for? There is nothing more for you to do here!” Babacan roared, as the crew of the bridge remained frozen at their consoles. He couldn’t believe it. This was not the Krys he knew, “Move it, now!”

  They soon complied and rushed from the bridge. The Captain stepped out from his quarters to find it empty, besides Babacan.

  “This is not how I saw this unfolding.”

  “Then you have spent too long among the Humans. This is the Krys way.”

  “But we posed no threat to them.”

  “Exactly. They do not care for our reason for being here, or even our intentions. They are here to take what they can get.”

  He led the Captain towards the docking bay.

  “What is it you think we can achieve against these odds?”

  “We can make them suffer.”

  “How does that help us?”

  Babacan shook his head in amazement.

  “We fight for ourselves. For our dignity, and our honour, Captain.”

  “What honour is there in death?”

  “You are about to find out.”

  They reached the docking bay, and many of the crew were taking up positions in whatever cover they could find.

  “If we make it out of this, it will be a miracle.”

  “Don’t fear death, Captain. There are many worse things than that.”

  Asil clearly didn’t agree. Babacan could hardly believe how Human and how soft this crew was. They were a pale imitation of the warrior culture he knew. But that culture was rapidly disappearing, with great champions such as Jafar now fading from memory. Babacan regretted stepping foot on this vessel. He sensed it was a mistake the moment he had, but never thought to question his orders. He only wished that if this was to be his end, he could have been beside friends.

  As he looked either side of him, he saw the fear in the faces of the crew. Once more demonstrating that they had become more Human than anything else.

  Perhaps that’s the problem with the Alliance? But it was Humans that defeated my people, and ultimately, defeated Bolormaa. There’s a lot more strength in them than anyone could see on first sight. Maybe Human traits are not such a bad thing?

  “This is madness. We should be past this barbaric insanity,” said Asil.

  “Past it? Do you think things ever change that much?”

  The rest of them were silent, watching and waiting for the enemy. They were closing in to land now.

  “This is not the end. This is the beginning. We are to fight for glory today, and join the great champions of our people!”

  They didn’t appear roused like he would imagine. The fight in them was gone.

  “Do you want to live?”

  It was obvious that they did.

  “Then fight. Fight with everything you’ve got!”

  “How can we win against that?” asked one of them.

  “Do you think Jafar ever asked that? Do you think Colonel Taylor ever did? Do you know how many times I have faced odds that would surely lead to my death? Fight honourably, and give them hell, and you might just make it through this day!”

  The first of the enemy craft landed. Smoke charges launched and began to dissipate as a wall between them. They could see little, but they heard the ramp of the ship crash down as another landed behind it. In no time at all they were in a dust cloud. Pulses flashed past Babacan’s head where suppressing fire came at them.

  “Fire!” he roared.

  They couldn’t make out any targets at first, but they fired into the smoke as pulses smashed their position. The first of the Krys burst out through the thick smoke. They were bulkier and more heavily armoured than any Krys warrior would normally be. It looked like ramshackle armour, but their shots were bouncing off nonetheless. Babacan stood up and unloaded an entire magazine into the lumbering enemy. It slowed their advance, but did not penetrate, and three more soon followed. He threw down his rifle, drew his Assegai, and activated his shield.

  “Argh!” He roared and rushed at the first of them.

  His shield took the automatic gunfire levelled at him. He pushed the weapon aside and thrust his blade into the receiver. Sparks flew as it was destroyed. The clumsy soldier swung the broken weapon at him like a club, but he ducked under and stabbed into its thigh. The blade drove deep, and the soldier collapsed down. As it did so, it slumped forward and revealed its rear armour that was half as thick as that on the front. He drew out his blade and thrust it down into the back of the neck. Blood spewed out, and the hulk of armour crashed down to the deck.

  Babacan looked back to the others and could see they were inspired. They drew out their blades as dozens of the heavily armoured assault troops poured towards them. They were seemingly unbeatable odds, but they no longer cared.

  “For the Alliance!” Asil shouted.

  Dozens of the crew rushed out from cover and charged towards the enemy with a new found will to fight. Babacan rushed on to find his next victim.

  Chapter 12

  “Colonel, I think you’ll want to see this.”

  “What have you got, Captain?” Taylor rushed onto the bridge.

  The Captain and two of his staff were studying images from the surface of the planet.

  “There is no doubt, Colonel, the Aranui were here.”

  “Okay, but you must have something more than that?”

  “We have some interesting data from below the surface.”

  He brought up a video feed from a drone entering a cavern in one of the canyons. Light broke through from above, but never large enough that would allow a ship through. The rock edges of the canyon seemed to close at the top like the jaws of a mouth. Roworth accelerated the footage as the drone made its way through.

  “What is that?” Taylor had noticed movement on the base of the canyon floor.

  Roworth slowed it down and zoomed in.

  “Vargs,” he uttered in disappointment.

  One was perched on a rock like a lookout, and it was staring right at the drone. But as they watched, they noticed several others appear at a small opening in the rock face, and more popped up from boulders nearby.

  “Those fucking things, they’re everywhere,” said Taylor.

  The drone continued on. Before long it was at a large opening that took a long and slow descent into the surface. The image suddenly shook violently as the drone was struck by something and crashed into the rock face. It recovered and gained altitude before rotating to reveal a Varg leaping up, trying to reach it.

  “At this point the drone returned to the hub after sustaining damage. Actually, we were lucky to get it back at all,” said Roworth.

  “That tunnel, were you able to gather any data from it?”

  “Not much. But I can tell you that without a doubt, the Aranui were there, and something of theirs is still down there. Rivers provided us with some unique signature tracing. The signature fades over time, but this signal is still strong.”

  “This signal? What exactly is it?”

  “I don’t know the science behind it, but the President described it as some kind
of essence that is output by the Aranui people and everything they ever created. All I know is that it leaves a traceable signature, if you know what to look for, that is.”

  “Irala must have told him about this. It could have been nothing but top secret to them. Not that it matters anymore. None of them are alive to care.”

  “You still think they are done, and that all of them were killed?”

  “Why, you don’t?”

  “I mean; it would make sense. But they are also survivors. They made it God knows how long in this universe, and if they did survive, it’s not likely they would reach out to us. They made it quite clear they wanted nothing to do with the Alliance.”

  “Then dead or alive, they’re no use to us.”

  “But their tech is.”

  “What’s your point?”

  “Well, if there were any left, wouldn’t they be hunting for whatever we are, too?”

  Taylor shrugged.

  “Honestly, I have no idea. Irala and Rivers spent a lot of time together, and discussed all kinds of things that the Councillor never shared with me. But I guess, if they left these things hidden, why would they go looking now?”

  He shook his head.

  “I wish I knew, but you know, the President isn’t exactly being too forthcoming about any of this. Even trying to get anything out of him is tough. It’s like he’s guarding the things he knows with his life.”

  “Wouldn’t you? If the President is right, we are looking for the key to it all. It might as well be the holy grail.”

  Taylor laughed until he realised how true that was. This was a quest, just like the search for the Pauri Tao, or the Tamir, the two names for the ancient spear that was destined to put an end to Bolormaa. For so long people had told him about mythical weapons and prophecies, and he had never believed them. He had used them to his advantage, but rarely given any credit to whether they could be legit.

  Yet it has all come true. Was that coincidence, or is there something more to it?

  "We have gathered what data we can. There is no doubt that there is something down there worth investigating. What are your orders?" Roworth asked.

  "We need boots on the ground, but we aren't going it alone. Call for the Kastor."

  "You are sure?"

  "Yes. Have them prepared for drop in the next three hours. Poka has some secrets to reveal, and we are going to find them."

  He strode off the bridge confidently as though he had found a sense of determination.

  * * *

  Newman was busy cleaning his weapon on the edge of the docking bay as he watched the crews work. Classical music played as they did so. It was mellow, and he appreciated that. Menard approached, amused by the scene of Newman oiling his weapon in rhythm to a cello.

  "You play, Corporal?"

  "Not really, Sergeant. I remember my sister learning. I remember watching her. She would listen to this kind of music over and over, mimicking the movement whether she had an instrument in hand or not."

  "When was this?"

  "Before the war," he said solemnly.

  "They were good days, weren't they?" He took a seat beside him.

  "They were, and over all too soon. I was robbed of half my childhood, and all of my family. And the only ones to blame for it are now dead. Tell me, Sarge, how do I make up for that? How do I get some payback, or satisfaction for that?"

  "You don't. I could tell you that we did it for you, Taylor and me and all the others. Most of which didn't live long enough to see it finished. But the truth is we didn't. There were no celebrations at the end. No big parades and parties. When the war ended, those of us left were just...we were dazed. We were barely still standing, and just relieved to still be alive. Put it this way, there was a whole lot of drinking and not a lot of dancing. I've never seen such a sad party. There wasn't much to celebrate. We had lost too much. To even say we won the war would be a bit of a stretch."

  "Maybe that's it, Sarge. We all keep trying to live as long a life as we can. Maybe that doesn't matter. Maybe it's just the way we live with what we have."

  "I could certainly drink to that. I lost a lot of friends to the war, and I'd like to think they led good lives. Many of them didn't reach their thirties, some not even their twenties. But in that short time, they lived like lions."

  "Sarge, if I may speak freely."

  "Of course."

  "It's the Colonel."

  "What about him?"

  "I know he's a great man, and he has achieved great things, but I don't think he is himself. His mind wanders, to dark places I think."

  "Of course it does, you think it is any different for the rest of us? And few of us ever saw the things he did. The Colonel is a broken man, there is no doubt about it, but what is left of him is still stronger than any of us. Not only that; but he's come back from this before, and other have, too."

  "I really hope so, but do you think he should be leading us in the meantime?"

  "Yes I do, one hundred percent. I'd take Taylor on a bad day over any other Commander, and that is a fact."

  "And you are sure you're not letting fond memories crowd your judgement?"

  "No. He took us through the kind of situations you can't even imagine."

  "Well, then I am glad. I had my concerns."

  "The Colonel is not superhuman. I have seen him falter, but never for long. Trust in him, and follow him, and you have a better chance of getting through a crappy situation than with anyone else."

  "And that is how you are here today, Sarge?"

  "Yes. Like you I was too young to fight in much of the war, but I still caught the tail end. I served with Taylor for three weeks, and it made a lasting impression."

  "Three weeks?" he gasped.

  "Doesn't sound like much, does it? But back then, three weeks felt like a lifetime."

  The Colonel rushed aboard, and they shot to attention, but he waved them off.

  "Get ready for this."

  "Sir?" Menard asked.

  "We're heading back down to the surface."

  Newman looked deeply concerned. That was somewhere he never wanted to go again. He still had nightmares about the gnashing teeth and claws of the Vargs. He remembered the screams of his comrades being pulled to their deaths as if it were an hour ago. But that thought also made him wonder what must weigh on Taylor's mind when he lay down to sleep.

  What must he be tortured by?

  "Sir, have you found something?"

  "We have. The others are on the way, and I will brief you once they and the Kastor have arrived."

  "You have called for their assistance?" Newman was surprised at that.

  Taylor was grabbing ammunition from the store beside them as he went on.

  "I did. I am well aware of the dangers that lurk on that planet, but I also understand how important it is that we go down there, and I am committing all the resources we have to making sure we are as safe as can be. I don't want a repeat of what you went through."

  Newman appreciated the sentiment, but he still felt dread for the place they were returning to. The docking bay doors opened, and the rest of their two squads poured in and formed up, which he quickly joined. It wasn't formal in any way. They assembled in a crescent around the Colonel. He projected a video feed from the drone that he had watched, and briefed them in all of five minutes.

  "Simple as that? Walk down the canyon, into the cave, and bring back whatever is there?" Giles asked.

  "Something close to that. The turbulent weather conditions are too unpredictable to fly down there, so we're going on foot."

  "I could manage it," said Munro.

  "Possibly, but it’s not a chance we want to be taking, and others will be following us in. I have been promised two platoons from the Kastor."

  "That's something, but not exactly the statement of force projection I thought we'd be getting," replied Menard.

  "Doesn't the President know how dangerous it is down there?" asked Giles.

  "He's got so
me idea, as much as he really can. Just feel lucky we have any support at all. There isn't much going around these days."

  "I don't understand why Trident and Phoenix couldn't come with us," added Sommer.

  "Because the President is casting the net wide, and he has to. You heard the state of things. This planet presents some interesting possibilities, but we still have no idea what is down there. It could be something. It could be nothing. It wouldn't exactly be the first false reading or useless investigation we have done, would it? If we can confirm that whatever is there is worth something, then I have no doubt the President will be sure to divert all the resources we need. Now the mission is simple. There is one way in, and one way out. It's not going to be an easy run, but we didn't sign up to an easy job."

  "I didn't sign up at all," replied Benik.

  Olsen punched him hard in the arm.

  "Hey, what the hell are you doing?"

  "I've had enough of your whining. We have a job to do, and if you are going to be a liability, then screw you."

  "Hey, just because I never wanted to be here, doesn't mean I won't do my job."

  "Hey!" Taylor snapped, "Let me be clear. If you don't do your job, I'll shoot you myself."

  Everyone fell silent as that sunk in, and not one of them doubted that the Colonel would go through with it.

  "We have a job to do. Something tells me there is a lot more to this planet than we know. So let's get in there. Stay safe. Those creatures, the Vargs, we have to assume they will be hostile, but this time we know what we are dealing with, and we have the resources to manage them. Stay tight. Keep an eye on the marine to your left and to your right. Don't ever get separated, and don't do anything stupid. Lastly, remember that you have more than this weapon." He held up his rifle, "You have had the training you need, and you have the weapons you need. We will not intimidated by these pack hunters, and you will show no fear, do you get me?"

  "We get you, Sir!"

  A light flashed on the Mappad on his arm, and he paused to check it.

  "All right, the Kastor is here. They have been briefed and are ready to roll. Load up. We've got work to do."

  Munro led the way to his ship as they grabbed their weapons and gear.

  "Sir, those creatures, you really don't fear them?" Newman asked Taylor.