Battle Earth: 11

by Nick S. Thomas

He looked over the flight deck to see a small fighter prepped for him. Rains was standing beside it, waiting for him. Taylor turned his attention to Parker. He laid his hand on her shoulder.

  “You take care, Eli,” he said quietly, his hand touching her cheek.

  He turned and headed for the aircraft.

  “You know you can’t come with me, Rains.”

  “No, I’m with the programme. But I’ll still be flying your ass,” he replied and pointed to a remote console set up nearby.

  “You might be alone, but I’ll be flying you.”

  Taylor smiled. It was the best news he’d heard all day.

  “All right. No time like the now, let’s do this.

  Chapter 3

  Taylor's craft soared towards the planet. He was sitting in the pilot's seat to get a full view ahead while everything was managed for him. He could tell Rains was flying, for nobody else was like him, but it did feel strange.

  "Colonel, you see that big red button at your two o'clock?" Rains asked over the comms.

  "Yeah, I see it."

  "That's your get out of Dodge button. If I lose remote control, or for any reason you want to get the hell out, you press that button, you hear? It'll return you to the Washington and land you safely. It won't be as fast as me, and it won't be able to do anything fancy, but it will get you home okay."

  "Home? I wish you had a button for that."

  "Hey, you wouldn't want to go there anyway. It's probably crawling with alien assholes."

  Taylor could not help but laugh, but he was soon silenced as he visualised that sight. Mechs occupying his home was a depressing thought that only served to stack onto the increasing depression they were all suffering from.

  "You really think you can convince these sons of bitches to join up?" Rains asked.

  He realised the Lieutenant was clearly of the same mind.

  "I'll do what I can, same as always."

  "You need us, you call, you hear?"

  "What do you mean?"

  "I mean Captain King is ready to assault any target at a moment's notice. You send us the word, and the cavalry will be en route."

  Taylor took in a deep breath and slowly responded.

  "Listen to me. I don't care what happens down there, you don't come after me, got that?"

  "But..."

  "No buts, that's an order. I won't have war started with another race just because of me. You will not let that happen, you hear me?"

  There was no reply for a moment and finally a sigh, and then, "Got it."

  Eddie went silent now as they made their descent onto the planet. It was a dry and craggy land, broken up with wide expanses of flat desert. He couldn't decide if it reminded him of Nevada or North Africa, but neither were places he was keen to see again.

  He could see the base up ahead. It remained unchanged from the last time he had arrived there. There was no sign of life in sight. Not a single vehicle of either race.

  "I'm putting you down here, a hundred metres north of the facility," said Rains.

  "All right, then. Thank you and maintain radio silence from now on, unless I break it."

  "You got it. Good luck, Colonel."

  Eddie brought him in on a quick, but supremely well controlled descent, and landed just as he had said. The landing gear touched down, and the engines powered down in seconds. Absolute silence followed.

  It feels like being inside a sealed box, he thought.

  But when he hit the door release, and opened the vessel to the elements, he found it was just as silent outside.

  Loneliness was not something he was accustomed to, nor craved, but neither had either ever given him cause for concern, until now. Now he felt cold inside. He didn't want to move. He couldn't bring himself to get out of his seat and place one foot in front of the other. He looked at the big red button that would 'send him home' as Rains had put it.

  It's not home, but going back to Eli Parker and my comrades is the next best thing.

  "Why did it have to be me?" he asked himself out loud, "Of all the fools that it could have been, why is it always me?"

  He finally mustered up the will to stand, finding he had to tell himself over and over what to do, to walk and to breathe. Not a fibre of his body wanted to do a thing. He grabbed his rifle from the rack beside him and eventually made his way to the door. He took in a breath of the air, and that at least had a calming effect.

  "Nothing else in the world like it."

  He had to keep talking to himself to at least maintain his sanity, and real air helped a lot. He jumped from the doorway and felt his feet land on dry, hard ground. He looked around with suspicion, expecting to be attacked any moment. The only relief he felt was that at least he was not dealing with the Krys. He knew that whoever this race was, they seemed nothing like their sworn enemy. He didn't know what drove them or what their sensibilities or morals were, but they at least seemed to have some. He attached the sling swivel to his armour and let the rifle hang at his side, with just his right hand on the grip. He wanted to appear casual and friendly, without actually being vulnerable. He carried no shield, for he didn't want to give the impression he had come for a fight.

  He strolled towards the town as if he were taking a walk in the park. He had to focus all the energy he had on appearing casual and friendly, and that meant fighting his instincts. He was approaching an urban environment with endless opportunity for ambush.

  "Where the hell are they?" he muttered to himself.

  He reached the edge of the facility to find empty boxes and clothing strewn about where it had been left in a hurry. A very light breeze rustled a sheet on the ground, but nothing seemed to have moved from where it was left a month before. It was a ghost town. He had suspected as much, but had still hoped there would at least be a greeting party awaiting his arrival.

  “Come on, where are you? Don’t tell me this was all just to stick the knife in,” he grumbled.

  He thought he heard footsteps to his flank and stopped dead, snapping his head around to look for any signs of movement in the building he was passing. His right hand took a firmer grip on his rifle, but he fought the urge to raise it to his shoulder. He was frozen solid, watching and listening for any sign of movement, but there was none. He wasn't sure if his mind was playing tricks on him now.

  Mitch carried on down the road in and finally took a turn into the main square of the complex. It was a broad open space with buildings on all sides and a few abandoned ground vehicles. There was no sign of life. He strolled out toward the centre of the area. It reminded him of his days of fighting in the arena. He reached it and rotated around, looking in all directions.

  "Where are you?" he asked.

  Still silence.

  "Where are you!" he yelled at the top of his voice so that it echoed around the buildings.

  He turned and turned, finally coming to a stop when he saw a single one of the aliens standing ahead of him. He gasped in surprise.

  "Where the hell did you come from?" he asked rudely.

  It looked like the same one he had spoken to before, but it was hard to tell for sure. The creature's face appeared to show no emotion at all, and its skin was such a matte charcoal black that it barely reflected any light at all so that picking out features was difficult. He took his time to study its form, just as he had done before. It surprised him that it was of humanoid form, just as the Krys were.

  This race was smaller and slighter than the Krys. They had an air of sophistication about them that led him to believe they were a people more of the mind than the body. It felt as if he had been studying the creature for a full minute without a word from it. He expected more of them to arrive any moment, but nobody came.

  "I am Colonel Taylor. You sent for me?" he finally asked politely.

  "I know who you are, Colonel."

  "Can I know your name?"

  The creature looked surprised. It was the first sign of emotion he had seen, and that surprise turned to an almost uncomfort
able reluctance.

  "Can't really have much of a conversation if I don't even know who I'm talking to, can I?" Taylor asked.

  He could see the creature was thinking about his question and did not waste any words.

  "My name is Irala."

  "Okay, and what is your...rank? Title? What is it you do here?"

  "I am here to give you our answer."

  Not quite what I had in mind, Taylor thought.

  But he didn't press the matter; he decided instead to try and get in the first word to ensure he got the answer he wanted.

  “So you’ve fought them before? The Krys?”

  No response came.

  “Irala you said your name was? Well, Irala, we call those things we fought the Krys. What do you call them?”

  “I will not repeat their name here on our own world.”

  Taylor nodded in agreement. He could understand that.

  “So you have fought them before?”

  He could tell the creature was very intelligent, and yet it simply observed and watched him and said as little as possible.

  “You sure seem to hate them,” he added.

  “Hate?” Irala, appearing confused.

  He seemed to think on it for a while, or at least Taylor assumed it was a he. The voice was deep and strong.

  “The reaction you had to first seeing one of them, even though he was among us,” added Taylor, “That is a kind of hatred that runs deep to the core. I know that hatred because it runs pure in my veins.”

  “And yet you still stand beside one of them?”

  Finally!

  He had at last drawn some response from the creature and felt he was getting somewhere.

  “It was by sheer accident that one came to be my friend. Jafar is his name. And I say he is the reason I now stand here, and hope there is some chance we can be allies. You don’t know me. I don’t know you. I am not asking for us to be friends. I only ask that we fight a mutual enemy together.”

  Once again Irala seemed to struggle with the concept, as if he wanted to agree but was unable to.

  “Come on. You hate them. I hate them. They stole our world and exiled us from it. I bet they did something much the same to you, didn’t they?”

  The creature nodded.

  “This world can’t be yours, so little populace and development. I don’t believe you came from here. My bet is they drove you to this planet. Same reason we have ended up here. Am I right?”

  “Yes,” Irala replied abruptly.

  “So you know what we’re dealing with. You know the shit storm that we faced. We survived it for years. Years are a long time for us. I killed Erdogan’s own blood, Demiran, with my own hands.”

  Taylor noticed Irala’s eyes light up just a little at the sound of the names.

  “You killed Demiran? In personal combat?”

  Taylor smiled; pleased he had touched on a nerve.

  “Yes…yes I did. I fought him on our own world, with my own hands against his. Nothing but bladed weapons, and I struck him down and drained his blood on the sands of the desert in a place not so dissimilar to this.”

  Irala seemed glad to hear the news and at least relieved in some way.

  “So you knew him? Demiran?”

  Taylor knew he had to keep pressing the alien to get him onside, and press he did.

  “So he crapped all over you, too? Don’t hold back. He nearly made my people extinct. So come on, share with me. We have a saying on my planet. 'The enemy of my enemy is my friend.' Is that not where we’re at?”

  “Demiran. We were greatly offended by him. I was greatly offended. News of his death brings relief, if it is true.”

  Taylor scowled at the creature.

  “You question my honesty? My integrity? I am a Colonel of the United States Marine Corps. I am Mitch Taylor of the Inter-Allied Regiment. My word if fact, and any man who would say otherwise is not my friend.”

  The creature didn’t seem offended but more curious as to his sudden change in demeanour.

  “Will you stand there and call me a liar?” Taylor asked, “Because if you do, you and me are gonna have a problem.”

  He unclipped his rifle, let it drop to the ground, and drew his Assegai, but the creature did nothing. He couldn’t tell if it was unsure or just curious. He had seen their power and knew what a threat they posed, but he could see a change of approach was needed, even if that meant risking everything.

  “So?” Do we have a problem?”

  Irala seemed amused by his question and utterly relaxed.

  “If you killed the Lord Demiran, I would know how so that my family can revel in the fact. We suffered a tremendous loss at his hands.”

  “All this technology and power, and you were not able to kill him yourself?”

  “We are few, and they were many.”

  “Yes,” replied Taylor, “And sometimes no matter how good you are, and how hard you fight, it isn’t enough. This is how we got out here to begin with.”

  Irala seemed to agree and understand but moved little more than his eyes. Taylor could see he was getting somewhere. He was tapping into a hatred that ran deep, and he felt it, too.

  "But they are far fewer now. We might have lost the war and our planet, but they paid a dear price for it. You may be few, and we are few. But together we could be strong enough to..."

  "To what?" Irala interrupted.

  Taylor paused for effect and to reel the alien in.

  "To win," he finally said, barely any louder than a whisper.

  Irala was silent and clearly thinking deeply about what he was hearing.

  "You know we can do it. We have a shot. Or we just get chased round the universe and hunted down till all of us are dead."

  "Colonel Taylor. I am here to inform you of our answer."

  Shit!

  He knew he had lost his attention. He knew he was close to getting him on side, but he didn't want to be as rude as to interrupt.

  "We will not enter your war, nor do we perceive you as an enemy. However, your presence here brings unnecessary danger to this world, and we insist that you leave and do not come back."

  Taylor shook his head.

  "How? How can you let us go to our deaths, knowing those bastards will only come for you when you too stand alone?"

  "We have lived here peacefully for longer than you have drawn breath, and probably generations before you."

  Taylor thought it curious that the alien seemed to have an understanding of the human life span in comparison to his own, and that got him thinking.

  "You've seen us before, haven't you? You knew of the existence of humanity?"

  Irala said nothing, but Taylor could tell by his lack of response that he was hitting the nail on the head.

  "Then you must have been to our world. You must have seen it? Oceans and forests for as far as you can see."

  He kicked the sand beneath his feet.

  "A place like this on Earth is the kind of shithole that is easily avoided. I mean no offence, but hell you can do better than this. I'm betting your own world wasn't anything like this dusty hell?"

  Irala blinked his eyes as if in some kind of recognition, the first time Taylor remembered him doing so.

  "So no. We're not asking to live here with you. I'm asking you to help us take back our world, Earth, and for us to live there together. God knows there's enough room for both our races since the wars have devastated our population."

  "I am sorry, Colonel, but we have made our decision."

  "So all this time we've been waiting. All this time you've stood here and exchanged niceties with me, and it was all for nothing?"

  "We have met. We have exchanged words, and we part without conflict. What is the problem?"

  "The problem is you aren't seeing sense or logic. You send us packing, and we're dead. Ever since Erdogan turned up, we've been fighting a losing war. Sure we might last a few more weeks or months. Maybe we'll even get a few years on the run. But he'll find us and he'l
l kill us all. I want my planet back, and the only way that's gonna happen is if we work together."

  "We have made our decision," Irala replied sternly.

  Taylor could see he was wasting words and time now. He turned to walk away and got a few paces before stopping and looking back. He was angry now and couldn't contain himself.

  "Is there nothing that will make you see sense? Is there nothing that will change your mind?"

  No response came.

  "Then fuck you for wasting my time. Fuck you for leaving us to die. You just handed Erdogan his final victory."

  Taylor didn't wait for a response and doubted he would get one anyway. He turned back and stormed off back towards his transport. As he did, he cursed and spat, and voiced his anger to himself. He was fuming and wanted nothing more than to hit something. He reached the ship, climbed aboard, and slumped into the pilot's seat.

  "Goddamn aliens! Useless."

  He reached for the console and opened a channel.

  "This is Colonel Taylor to the Washington."

  Just a few seconds later a response came, and it was the Admiral himself. It was clear the bridge crew had been waiting silently for his call. It was obvious to everyone how important his mission was.

  "This is the Washington. You okay, Colonel?"

  "Yeah, ready to come on home," he said with a sigh.

  "Do you need further assistance down there, Colonel?"

  "Negative. They want us off this world and out of here."

  In those few short words, he had explained all there was to say.

  Why couldn't that alien asshole break it to me simply? he asked himself.

  "All right, Colonel, come on home," came the response, "I'll have you put through to your pilot."

  Taylor could hear the immense disappointment in Huber's voice. Knowing they weren't going to have to fight should have been a relief, but they both knew it only meant a more prolonged battle to the end against Erdogan. Eddie's overly excited voice came over the comms once again.

  "Colonel, what's going down? Glad to hear you're still breathing."

  "Yeah, I'm still here."

  "So how'd it go?"

  "Well, put it this way, I'll be the last human to ever step foot on this dusty piece of a shit planet."