“I never wanted this, Colonel. I know you didn’t either. You always fly with the same woman, I get that.”
“Yeah, but you’ll do just fine. You’re our ticket out of here, so trust me when I say I am going to make sure you make it.”
He seemed to welcome the news as he took them in. The landing was perfect, as good as Alita would have done, and that impressed Taylor. He noted that everyone was already on their feet.
“All right, let’s make this quick. We move fast, and fight just as fast. The only goal is to find the President and get him out. We don’t stop for any other crewmembers, not even the wounded. It’s the crew’s responsibility to get them aboard the lifeboats, ours to get to the President.”
“Sir, how do we know the President hasn’t already left?” Bailey asked.
“No craft have departed yet, so it looks like they have lost power to a lot of modules,” replied the pilot behind him.
“Keep in touch. I want to know if anyone makes it off this boat.”
“We’re going in a little blind, aren’t we, Colonel?” Deny asked.
“In far from ideal circumstances, I agree, but they are what they are. Now, we have a job to do, so let’s get to it, people.”
He moved to the lower hull door and slid it open to see the access door on the hull. He reached down and placed his Mappad scanner beside the armoured console. He was sceptical that it would work, but as he watched, a light flashed and the door slid open. They were down to emergency lighting and had little more than a faint red glow aboard the Forbin. It was an eerie and unwelcoming sight, but he leapt in nonetheless. Jones was quickly in beside him.
They knew it was a silly decision to both go, but at the same time, they needed one another to rely on. They had been through hell so many times at each other’s side that it would seem strange to be separated. That, and Taylor sometimes was able to forget it was not his old friend Charlie, William’s ancestor. He saw so much of Charlie in him.
“Do you think he’s still alive?” Jones whispered.
“Who?”
Jones looked surprised. “The President?”
Taylor smiled as he snapped back to reality. For a moment he had lapsed in a memory of what he now remembered as the good old days.
“Yep, I do.”
“Why?”
“Because if he’s not, we’re well and truly fucked.”
“That’s reassuring.”
“Indeed,” Taylor replied sarcastically as he carried onwards.
They took a corner and found three bodies on the deck. One was still breathing. A young woman who was reaching up and trying to ask for help, but nothing more than a gargle was coming out as she bled profusely from a neck wound. They both watched the life fade from her eyes in seconds before either of them could even move forward to help.
"None of them were even armed," said Jones in despair.
"They must have either been caught by surprise or running for their lives."
"Scared and alone, that's no way to go."
"There ain't no good way to go."
"You went out in a blaze of glory when you were officially killed back in the Krys war."
Taylor reached out and slammed his hand to Jones' chest. "You think I did that for the glory?"
"I'm just saying it wasn't a bad way to go. That’s all."
Taylor shook his head as he led them forward.
"Lying in a pool of your own blood, knowing you'll never see those you love ever again, and you can't protect them anymore neither. No, I told you, there’s no good way to go. Anyone who says there is hasn't enough to live for."
"And you do?"
"Damn right, I do," he replied sternly.
He picked up the pace but soon stopped as he heard dozens of heavy footsteps coming from his right side. There was a door up ahead, and he approached it cautiously. Just as he reached the opening, a group of eight crewmembers rushed past screaming like hell. One was shot in the back and fell as they passed Taylor. He knelt back quietly against the bulkhead and watched as a four-legged Morohtan warrior stormed past him.
That looked like a smaller version of one of the Princes. Inspired by them, perhaps.
Taylor didn’t make a sound. He didn’t even breathe as he watched it rush past the opening, firing as it went.
When he was finally happy it was out of sight and sound, he carried on in the direction they had been going.
“That’s cold,” Jones said quietly.
“It sure is.”
“You could have stepped out. You could have done something,” insisted Jones.
“Neither of us knows what we could have done. All we know is what we have done, and what we must do. Keep moving.”
Gunfire echoed through the hull of the ship, but it was hard to pinpoint exactly where it was coming from. It was a grave reminder of the urgency they needed to emphasise. Especially, when Taylor remembered what was going on in the space all around them. Something was approaching from his right side, and he stopped and waited with his rifle held high. He still had no idea what he expected to see, but he prayed that for once it would be something his rifle could hurt.
One of the four-legged Morohtan warriors rushed around the corner. On each of its arms it had double-barrelled energy weapons that spat pulses of light towards him. It seemed as if it felt no threat or fear at all. Taylor activated his shield just in time as two shots struck it, and another two hit the doorway beside him. He returned fire with two three-shot bursts. They slowed the creature a little, but it still came at him. When it was within five metres, he opened up on full auto. He couldn't miss. Ten rounds struck the creature’s torso when it finally stumbled and hit the ground, sliding to a standstill less than half a metre from where he stood.
He let out a long sigh, but even as he exhaled, the creature lurched out as if to strike him. Gunfire rang out beside them from Jones firing a burst into its head, and once again it dropped to the deck. The Captain strode cautiously up to the creature and kicked it while keeping his rifle trained firmly on the body. They could both see a half metre blade that had projected from one of the creature’s weapon arms in readiness to strike Taylor.
"Thanks, Jones."
"Ugly beasts, aren't they?"
Taylor carried on without another word.
"How many more of them do you think there can be?" Jones whispered.
"Can't be many. The ship wasn't that big."
Though he knew that was wishful thinking. The ship rocked as if it had been hit by an almighty blast, and they were thrown about the corridor. The emergency lighting cut out and left them in complete darkness.
"NV on," ordered Taylor.
He pulled the visor down and activated it. The scene before him lit up. It was far more sophisticated than the night vision equipment he had known back in his day. The colours were muted and faded, but at least it was better than the vile vomit inducing green glare he was used to.
"Everyone okay?" he asked.
He saw them nodding in agreement.
"If the power is completely out, the air won't last long. Who knows what was lost from that breach as well," said Jones.
"All the more reason for us to move our asses. We're close now, so let's get this done before the ship is torn apart."
Taylor wanted nothing more than to turn back and flee to the Indy, but he knew he had no choice but to press on.
Chapter 3
"Protect the President!" a voice yelled out as gunfire followed it.
"Come on, we are there," Taylor replied and ran forward without any care or caution. Up ahead he found a breach in the sidewall of the bridge where the enemy had bypassed the huge blast doors and gone through the skin of the wall. The bodies of two Morohtan warriors and a few of their drones lay at the breach. Taylor was impressed, but he looked through the gaping hole to see a single Morohtan creature making for the remaining two marines. The rest of the crew cowered behind their consoles.
One of the marines was frantically
trying to reload. The other was pouring fire into the creature. The Morohtan seemed to be out of ammunition and was rushing at them with blades extended ready for some murderous onslaught. Taylor opened up on full auto and was quickly joined by Jones and two others as they advanced in a line. Dozens of shots struck the creature’s back, as it descended on the two marines. It finally collapsed dead to the deck.
He saw the relief in the two men's eyes. They thought they were about to die and were now unable to move a muscle.
“The President, where is he?” Taylor shouted sharply.
“Over here!” a voice yelled.
He went past the men and beyond the Captain’s chair to find Captain Fortier kneeling beside the President. He held a pistol in his hand ready to defend him with his own life. The Captain drew back. Taylor could see a pool of blood on the President’s shirt where he had been hit in the chest. He was still conscious, but coughing up blood, too.
“Lorenzo!” Taylor barked.
The medic pushed through quickly to reach them.
“Mr President, we are here to get you out of here,” added Taylor.
He was just about able to nod in recognition, but they could all see that he was in a bad way. Lorenzo sealed the wound and plied the President with some drugs. He then looked to Taylor, his expression grim.
“Will be make it?”
“He shouldn’t even be moved, Colonel, but I guess we don’t have any choice, do we?”
“No, if we can get him back to the Indy, can he be saved?”
Lorenzo shrugged.
“Maybe, but we’re gonna have to be fast, and I can’t make any promises.”
They both knew it was a far from ideal situation.
“That’ll have to do,” replied Taylor.
He looked around to see the crew in a terrified state. They had no control left of the ship.
“If you want to live, get to the escape boats now. You will be picked up. You have my word I will do everything in my power to save as many of you as I can. But if you stay here, you will all die. Run for your lives, while you still can.”
He looked to Lorenzo. “Bring him, now!”
The President groaned in pain as the medic hauled him with ease onto his shoulder. The power of their suits allowed him to carry the man as if he was little more than a backpack. Taylor released his magazine and slammed in a new one in readiness for what was about to come.
“We’re getting the hell out of here. Bailey, bring up the rear. The rest of you, follow me!”
He rushed out of the breach with Jones close by his side.
“You think he will make it?” Jones asked.
“I have no idea, but it’s out of our hands. Right now, we just have to get the hell off this death trap.”
They could still hear the faint sounds of gunfire and screams of panic running through the corridors, but nothing seemed all that close. They ran onwards. Taylor looked down at his Mappad every few seconds to make sure they were following the route that had led them there. He kept looking ahead and then down when suddenly a Morohtan warrior leapt out in front of him. He instinctively ducked down and spun as it swung for him with one of the blades on its weapon arms.
As he hit the sidewall, he heard a deafening roar as Babacan’s Gatling gun opened fire. The room was lit up from the gunfire. The creature was knocked back from the weight of fire. Just a small proportion of Babacan’s shots penetrated its thick armour, but it was enough. It slumped down dead, and as he looked up, Jones was offering his hand to help him to his feet. He took it and quickly continued on the way they had been going.
“Nasty, those things,” said Jones.
“Damn right, just when you think you have a big enough gun.”
“I guess the arms race never ends?”
“Never, and I’m sure about that.”
He was already beginning to realise that they needed to up gun, but he wasn’t sure how they were going to manage it. These new Morohtan warriors were well-armoured and resilient foes, and he suspected he would be seeing a great many more of them. They kept going and finally reached the door they had come in from. Taylor stopped to allow the rest to carry on past as he covered them. Jones did the same on the other side of the doorway.
They watched as the President went past on Lorenzo’s shoulder. He didn’t even look conscious. They felt several impacts hit the outer hull around them, and the supports began to creak and give way. The pilot’s voice came over the comms a few seconds later.
"Colonel, we need to hurry this up. Much longer, and we'll all be going down with the ship."
"Understood!"
Bailey soon reached them, and Taylor gestured towards Jones for him to follow on after her. Taylor was the last of their team aboard when he heard a hissing sound. A Morohtan four-legged warrior was just two metres away. It had its weapons trained on him, and he couldn't get through the door without taking fire. They couldn't afford to risk not getting the President out. It was though the creature knew this and was baiting him into personal combat.
Jones could tell what was going on, but he didn't have a view of the creature.
"Come on," he whispered.
He stood his ground. "Shut that door, Jones, and get the hell out of here," Taylor answered softly, so as not to alarm the creature.
"I won't."
"You will, damn you. We came here for the President, and I'll be damned if I will let this mission fail."
An impact rocked the ship once more, and the floor beneath Taylor's feet began to buckle. He closed his helmet in readiness for what he knew was coming.
"Seal the door!"
Jones clamped it shut just in time as a tear appeared in the wall. Air quickly vented through the breach, and Taylor took hold of a grab handle nearby as he was pulled towards it. He held on for dear life as his feet were pulled off the ground, and a passing body caught his rifle, tearing it from its sling. He watched as the body and weapon were sucked through the breach that was now almost a metre wide.
Fuck!
He watched the Morohtan creature try to dig its claws into the deck and walls. That slowed its descent to the breach, but it couldn't find anything solid enough to take hold of. Finally, it was wrenched from its final hold and smashed into the wall where the breach was. It was pinned to the wall and sealed most of the hole, though Taylor was still being pulled toward it. Cracks appeared in the wall around the Morohtan where the hull was breaking up. Further impacts rocked the vessel. It wasn't going to last much longer.
"Fuck it!"
Taylor reached down and drew his Assegai, letting go of the handle so that he was sucked towards the creature at immense speed. He thrust his Assegai forward. It drove all the way to the hilt, as he crashed into the beast with enough force that the breach finally gave way, and they burst out into open space. He drew out the blade and stabbed again and again as the creature flailed to try and fight back, but it soon went limp. He let go of the body, and they began to separate as he turned to see the battle unfolding all around him.
"Colonel, use your boosters to decelerate, and we'll pick you up," said Dart over his comms.
Taylor was relieved to see the transport not far from his position. He disapproved of the fact that they had not taken the President to safety, but he'd certainly have been a dead man if they had not. Gunfire flashed past him in both directions, and explosions erupted as the intense battle waged on all around him. He looked over for just a few moments to check on the fate of the Resolution. To his amazement she was still in the fight.
He activated the boosters on his armour and brought himself in line with Dart's ship, lowering himself onto the upper hull. He took a firm hold on an aerial section, knowing they didn't have time to try and get him aboard.
"All right, go, go, go!" he yelled through the comms.
The engines lit up, and they soared forwards. It was a short journey back to the Indy, but they still had to duck and weave as fire zipped past them. Taylor couldn't help but feel vulnerabl
e out in the open. Just when he thought nothing else could go wrong, he felt something clip his back, and he was knocked aside. He lost his grip on his right hand and was forced over to one side by the impact. He wasn't hurting, so something must have just glanced him. He pulled himself back up to reclaim his position.
"You okay, Colonel?" Dart asked.
"I'm okay!"
He looked down at his Mappad and found a red warning light was flashing. His oxygen supply was draining fast, so fast that he could see the indicator dropping by the second. He reached down and stretched a carabineer from his belt and latched it onto the aerial mounting. He couldn't affect his air supply, but there was nothing worse than being left out there in the darkness of space if he became so weak that he couldn't hold on. He’d latched it on firmly and held on tight, watching and hoping. They had covered half the distance when the red flashing light became solid red, indicating that he had completely run out. He only had what was left in his mask now, and it didn't last long at all. His vision began to blur, and he remembered an explosion flashing before his eyes before he finally lost consciousness.
* * *
Alita watched in sheer terror as the transport came in for a rushed combat landing and skidded to a halt on the deck. She could see Taylor's lifeless body hanging over the side of the fuselage. She reached the craft as the side door slammed down, and Jones was out like a lightning bolt. He leapt up onto the top of the craft and cut the cable that Taylor was suspended from with his Assegai, lowering him to the deck where Alita and an awaiting medic were immediately at his side.
They released his helmet, and a second later his eyes opened and sprung to life as he gasped to take in air, coughing as he tried to get up. The medic pushed him back down, and he wasn't able to fight it.
"Colonel, can you hear me?"
Taylor nodded as he still coughed and couldn't get any words out.
"How many fingers am I holding up?"
He pushed the medic’s hands away as he finally regained the strength to sit up and push the woman away.
Battle Beyond Earth: Revenge Page 4
