Battle Beyond Earth: Insurrection

by Nick S. Thomas

  "You are already too late," said Eme.

  The two heavy cruisers opened fire on the Alliance space station, and the badly damaged fleet that had returned there. They were the crews that had seen Taylor's mission to success, and it made him feel sick to know those who were supposed to be their allies were now killing them.

  "Call them off!"

  But Eme shook his head. "I will not."

  Taylor rushed forward, grabbed the little alien by his collar, and hauled him over to the console where Alita watched the battle erupt. The table displayed every ship in live 3D, including the gunfire being exchanged. He drew his sidearm and put it to Eme's head.

  "Call them off now!" he screamed.

  The Admiral seemed oddly calm and shook his head once again.

  Taylor sighed, knowing it would get them nowhere, and he didn't want to be seen as the villain by the Admiral's crew. He smacked the alien over the head with the butt of his pistol and knocked him unconscious. He looked back to the display. Volleys from both of the heavy cruisers flanking the Nakbe were pounding the station. They had closed towards the Alliance fleet to shield the Nakbe. Three Human vessels had already been destroyed, and Jafar's own ship was burning.

  "What do we do?" Alita asked desperately.

  Taylor thought for just a few seconds, "Can you get control of the weapon systems?"

  Alita looked stunned and couldn't respond.

  "Can you or not?"

  "I...I can try."

  "Then do it. Get me the biggest gun this thing has got. What everyone keeps raving about; let's put it to good use."

  He watched in horror as the two fleets slugged it out and tore each other apart. Hundreds of fighters battled it out between them. The station was giving as good at it got, but it was close to crippled now.

  "We can't put the engines online," said Alita, "The course cannot be altered, not anytime soon, but we need to get the nose around and in line."

  "We can use the docking bay thrusters for fine adjustment," said Babacan.

  Taylor looked at him surprised, but nodded in agreement for him to go ahead.

  "You know the moment we fire one shot they will be on to us, and we're dead in the water," replied Alita.

  "But they won't know that. Send enough of a shockwave through these bastards, and they won't stand."

  Babacan went at the controls as if he knew what he was doing, and that surprised Taylor even further, but he didn't question it.

  "Get us in line with that heavy cruiser and prepare to fire," said Taylor. He pointed to one of the two identical craft that was off their bow to the starboard side.

  "Are you going to give them chance to surrender?" Alita asked.

  Taylor shook his head.

  "You know nobody aboard will survive?"

  Taylor nodded.

  "And their loss will save many more lives, on both sides," he replied.

  She didn't question him any further, but she still felt awful for it. She began powering up the Nakbe's monstrous Goliath cannon. They could feel the entire ship pulse and reverberate as masses of power surged through the vessel. They were banking ever so slowly now and almost in line with the aft of one of the heavy cruisers. Babacan put down a little power to the starboard thrusters and brought them to a halt once more, in plain sight of the engines of their target.

  "Fire when ready," said Taylor.

  Alita could see there were just a few seconds left until it reached full power. She looked into his eyes, pleading with him without saying a word, but she could already tell he would have none of it.

  "Do it."

  She closed her eyes and pressed the fire button. A huge burst of energy soared from the Nakbe and hit the powerful heavy cruiser. The impact passed through the ship as if meeting no resistance at all. Explosions burst out all over the hull. The ship was torn into five sections, with thousands more pieces of debris and bodies thrown out into space.

  They looked on solemnly for a moment as Alita finally opened her eyes. She wouldn't cry even though she wanted to. The battle came to a standstill; almost every ship and fighter stopped shooting. They were all looking at the devastation between the two fleets. Taylor turned to the most senior Cholan officer still alive, a female Lieutenant. She was trembling.

  "Get me a channel to the Cholan fleet."

  She didn't respond.

  "Now," he replied in a firm voice.

  She snapped into action and pushed a few buttons. He took his helmet off and prepared to make a speech he’d had no time to prepare for.

  "You are live to the whole fleet," she said begrudgingly.

  He hadn't expected for it to be so quick, but after a few seconds he began to address the fleets.

  "This is Colonel Mitch Taylor. I have seized the Nakbe in the name of the Alliance. I have no qualms in turning the powerful weapons of this vessel on any ship refusing to accept a ceasefire and offer immediate surrender. Your people..."

  As he spoke, Admiral Eme regained consciousness without anyone noticing him in the corner where he had fallen. He drew out his sidearm and took aim at Taylor. His sight was blurred, and he was jaded from the strike, but he squeezed the trigger. A single shot struck Taylor in the neck and passed right through. Taylor staggered forward as he cupped his neck and blood gushed from it. Eme was on his feet before anyone could respond and leapt into view of the camera.

  "Do not surrender! Fight for your lives!" he screamed.

  Taylor spun around and rushed at Eme with thunderous intent. He had taken pity and let the Admiral live, despite despising him for what he had done. Now he regretted it. Eme lifted his pistol in self-defence, but as he fired, Taylor ducked under and took hold of the Admiral's arm. Two shots rang out and found nothing but the wall of the bridge. Taylor kicked Eme in the stomach, and then drove another kick into his left knee so that the Cholan crumpled and bowed before him. He grabbed hold of the pistol, still in Eme's hand, and turned it to the back of his head.

  Eme was powerless to resist the strength of Taylor, even had he not been in his powered suit. The gun barrel reached the back of Eme's head, and Taylor forced his finger over Eme's on the trigger. Blood spewed out over the deck of the bridge. Taylor let go of the Admiral, and his body dropped limp before him. He cupped his neck once again. He was still bleeding, but clearly not enough to suggest the windpipe had been pierced. But then he remembered the video feed. He looked up. Everything had been broadcast to the fleet.

  His heart sank as he realised the hope of peace had been dashed. Alita rushed to his side and pulled his hand away to look at the wound. She was oblivious to everything else that was unfolding, but he looked to the operations table. A few ships began to move, and then the firing started once again. He shook his head in disbelief.

  "What do we do?" Babacan asked.

  He looked to Alita. "How long until we can fire again?"

  "Your wound, let's sort you first."

  "Fuck the wound, it doesn't matter right now. We do our jobs first and foremost, now how long?" he insisted.

  "About a minute," she replied solemnly.

  "Not good enough, what else do we have to throw at them?"

  She shook her head.

  "Nothing that can touch a major warship. The power overload of firing that weapon fries the systems for a little while. We've got close defence systems for protection against fighters. That's it."

  "Then what do we do?"

  Taylor didn't answer Babacan. It was obvious now. All they could do was sit and wait.

  "Why haven't they come for us yet?"

  "Who?"

  "The rest of the crew aboard this vessel."

  Taylor shrugged. "Maybe because to get here they'd have to walk over swathes of their own dead, and realise that none of ours are among them."

  "He's right. Nobody could stomach that," added Alita.

  They could do nothing but watch the rest of the battle unfold. Half of the ships on both sides were disabled or destroyed. Burnt out hulks floated through
space, and still the fight went on. The countdown for their weapon systems seemed to take an hour; at least it felt that way. By the time it was finally ready, the entire area was a scrapyard.

  "Ready!" Alita said enthusiastically.

  But it felt almost too late.

  "Fire," whispered Taylor.

  The familiar surge overcame the vast ship once again, and the barrel of the Goliath weapon spurt flame and fire and smashed into the second heavy cruiser, blowing it apart just as it had done the first. Taylor slumped back into the Admiral's seat. He knew it was over, but at a great cost.

  "They're running!"

  He looked up. The remainder of the Cholan fleet were fleeing through the gateway. It shut down, and finally they were left in peace. Taylor looked over several screens to survey the damage. A number of crippled Cholan vessels had been left behind. Many of the Human and Krys vessels looked beaten beyond repair. Two Aranui vessels had been destroyed.

  "Get me some comms. Let's see who is left."

  A few moments later the comms officer from the station appeared. He was badly cut and bleeding on one side of his face and burnt on the other, but still doing his job. Sparks flew in the background as crews fought a fire behind him.

  "What can I do for you, Colonel?" asked the officer, surprisingly calm.

  "What's the damage?"

  "We have a lot of casualties, hard to calculate the numbers so far. Most of the bridge crew are dead or wounded. The President and Lord Jafar are in medical undergoing treatment."

  "How bad are they?"

  "I'm sorry, Colonel. I just don't know at this stage."

  "And the rest of the fleet?"

  The man shrugged.

  "I am getting a few reports in, but many have lost comms altogether. I...we....are just dead in the water. I don't know what to do."

  "And Commander Cohen?"

  "She...is among the dead, I am sorry to say. I am the highest ranking officer currently reporting for duty here."

  Taylor shook his head, realising the extent of the damage.

  "I need to get back to you, but I'll need a skeleton crew over here to take care of prisoners and wrestle this beast into submission, can you send a team ASAP?"

  "I'll do what I can, Sir."

  Taylor ended the call.

  "What have we done?"

  Alita’s voice was full of sorrow and regret.

  "What have we done? No, what did they do? What did that piece of shit do?" He pointed at the bloody mess of Eme on the deck.

  "We didn't ask for this fight, and we sure as hell didn't want it. Divide and conquer, that is exactly what has been done here. We bought ourselves some valuable time to prepare for the coming war, and now we've probably been set back months, maybe even a year."

  "A year?" she asked, looking out at the wrecked fleet, "You think we can replace this in a year?"

  "Damn right we can, and we will. Because if we can't, it will be the end of us."

  "But...this fleet has been built over probably a decade or more."

  "Built in a time of peace. Trust me, war time manufacture can work miracles, and miracles are what we need."

  "But you don't believe in miracles."

  "Not from any God, no, but I believe men and women can make them happen."

  She slumped down to the floor and against one of the units. She looked utterly lost.

  "How do you keep going? How do you do it? I don't even want to stand right now, can't. I don't want to fight for this anymore. How do we ever keep moving forward?"

  Taylor didn't know how to answer, for he wasn't even sure himself.

  "Survival instinct is a strong driving force," stated Babacan.

  "That's the best damn answer I have heard yet."

  "But do you believe it?" she asked him.

  "Do I think life is worth living? When I have those I love around me, yes."

  "And when you came into this new life? You had none of that."

  "No," he said, thinking back to those miserable days, "And that is why I was weak. We all need something to fight for. None of us does it for fun, or just out of a sense of duty."

  "And when you lose everything you care for?"

  Taylor shrugged.

  "You find something new and keep moving forward. That is the cycle of life. None of us live forever. Or not too many, anyway."

  "Are we destined to lead the life that you have? To fight, and fight, and suffer, and lose, and dance with death so often that we may meet with it any day. To live in that state of fear?"

  "Fear? No, no. It may be my curse to go on living while others die around me, but I do not live in fear. Not fear of death, anyhow. We all die. To fear death is to fear life."

  He knelt down beside her and took her hand in his.

  "This is what is worth living for."

  * * *

  Hours had passed before Taylor and his team were on their return to the station aboard a transport shuttle. There were large porthole windows running the length of the craft, and they could see the devastation of the battle with their own eyes. Most chose to ignore it, but Alita couldn't bring herself to do that. Something hit the fuselage and bounced off, the body of a Human crewmember that floated on past the windows. A few tears came to Alita's eyes, but she tried to hide them.

  As they came into land in the docking bays of the station, they watched a constant stream of shuttles bringing in the wounded. Many were being treated or awaiting treatment on the docking bay floor. There was no space left in the medical facilities. The shuttle reached the ground, and they stepped out to find a stream of blood along the dock floor. There was no triumphant return for them. None knew what they had done, and few recognised them. Taylor reached out and grabbed the nearest orderly as he passed.

  "The President and Lord Jafar, where are they?"

  The man struggled to get free, but Taylor's grip only got firmer.

  "That's secure information that I don't have, and you aren't privy to," snapped the man.

  He tried to get free, but Taylor's grip was like iron around his upper arm. So tight in fact that it was starting to cut off his blood circulation.

  "I am Colonel Mitch Taylor. Both the President and Lord Jafar will want to see me, so please cut the shit and just be helpful."

  The man sighed and reluctantly gave in.

  "They are being treated at Zone B, at an isolated ward at the rear of the sector."

  "Number?"

  "It is unclassified, and an emergency facility for just this very thing."

  "You let that secret out pretty easy," replied Taylor, smiling as he released his grip.

  "Screw you. There are people here that need my assistance. Why don't you cut the macho nonsense and make yourself useful?"

  "He just did. He just saved your ass," Alita said.

  But the man had no care to wait around and hear her response. He rushed off in a huff.

  "Becoming quite the little badass."

  "I learnt from the best."

  He went on at a brisk pace, pushing his way through the docking bay area and several sectors of the station before eventually reaching the unmarked area the orderly had mentioned in Zone B. Two heavily armed guards stood at the door, and both of them recognised Taylor instantly. They let him pass, and he strode in to find a dozen more marines waiting on guard inside, where he also found Sarik. His clothing was cut and several bandages covered minor wounds. Stitches held together a deep cut beside his eye.

  "How are they?"

  "Both your President and Lord Jafar are stable. They will be okay."

  Taylor gasped in relief, "Close call."

  "Yes, but we lost many more."

  "I need to see them."

  "With what in mind?"

  "We need a strategy put together right now. The Cholans have run with their tails between their legs, but they are still a threat."

  "Not anytime soon, though, surely?" Alita asked. She was now beside him.

  "I would strike them quickly while the
y are still weak. Follow me," replied Sarik.

  "Attack?" she asked Taylor as they followed the alien, "With what? We are in tatters."

  "And to wait and prepare could cost us more later. We have a resolve that the Cholans do not. We have broken their fleet. Now we must break their will."

  They stepped through into a medical room where there were just two patients, Isaacs one side and Jafar the other. Human doctors worked on both, with one Krys aiding them. Both of them were awake and checking through statistics. Jafar had a wound in his flank, whereas the President appeared to have a broken arm and light cuts. Jafar seemed to be in a much worse state, but he was taking it well. Taylor first went to his old friend.

  "Tough old bull, aren't you?"

  Jafar turned to greet him but winced slightly as a sharp pain ran through his body.

  "Still breathing," he replied.

  Taylor turned to the President who had not said a word.

  "Mr President, what are your intentions?"

  Isaacs looked up. "Intentions? Look at us. We barely got through this alive. Can you not give us some peace to recover what we have left, or is your warmongering state of personality that overpowering?"

  Taylor couldn't believe what he was hearing but did his utmost to remain calm.

  "Sir, the Cholans have already shown their intent. While the threat of Bolormaa looms over them, and we appear weak in comparison to the Morohta, they will continue to fight us."

  "Isn't this much death and destruction enough for you, Colonel? They won't be back anytime soon."

  "They will," a voice said from behind Taylor.

  He turned to see Irala. Even he had not escaped the brutal effects of the battle. His arm had some kind of wound covering made of a metallic foil, and the left side of his face was cut in many small slices like he had been showered with glass. Taylor welcomed his support and let him go on.

  "The Cholans may be weak, but so is this Alliance, and they know it. They will be back."

  The President sighed as if he didn't believe Irala, or at least didn't want to believe him.

  "What would you suggest?"

  "Go after them, and finish them before they can regroup," Taylor quickly added.