Battle Earth IX

Chapter 11

"Sure you want to do this?"

Jones looked up and only had to think for a few seconds before he said loudly, "Damn right!"

"Cologne, here we come."

The pilot had been a volunteer, and Jones had not even thought to ask a single thing about young female pilot besides check the name on her uniform; Befort, and her rank Lieutenant. She showed no fear as she guided them down towards a landing zone at an enemy base.

"You know, just because we go in flying a white flag, doesn't mean they'll give us a free pass. They're just as likely to shoot us, Sir," said Private Wood.

"Yeah, maybe, but we can only do what we can do."

"I told you," said Befort, "This is an unarmed liaison ship. They will not fire on us."

As they came into land, they could see a dozen soldiers waiting with weapons in hand.

"Sure about that?" Evans asked, as he looked out through the cockpit.

"What do we do?" asked Wood, "Put our weapons down?"

"No, we came to talk under a white flag, not to surrender. Keep your weapons on you but lowered at all times," replied Jones, "Show no sign of aggression, and know that you cannot fire upon them, no matter what reason you might have. Once the firing starts we're finished, so don't let it begin."

Jones opened the ramp of the ship and stepped out. It was no larger than that Taylor had recently travelled in, the only difference being everything worked on board. He jumped out with empty hands, though still with his sidearm on his thigh. Wood and Evans followed as he asked and kept two paces behind him.

"You have five minutes to say what you have to say, and then you leave!" an officer shouted.

Jones nodded in agreement. At least they're not shooting us...yet, he thought.

"I request an audience with General Schulz!" he responded.

"And you are?"

"Captain Charlie Jones, Inter-Allied Regiment!"

The name clearly meant something to the officer, and he turned to a few other soldiers sanding behind him and shared a few words before looking back to Jones.

"You may confer with me. I am Lieutenant..."

The man stopped as he was clearly getting a transmission through a comms device in his helmet. He seemed surprised by what he was hearing, and appeared to argue with whoever was on the line for a moment before going silent and looking back to Jones.

"The General...will be with you momentarily...please stay where you are!"

Jones nodded in agreement. "Thank you, Lieutenant!"

He turned around and looked back at the two Privates behind him. They watched the German forces around them like hawks, although they all knew they were powerless to defend themselves.

"Sure this is a good idea, Sir?" asked Wood.

"Not really, but we'll all out of options."

"Why would he help us, Sir?"

"Because he isn't an evil man, Evans. He's fallen on the wrong side in this fight, but he hasn't always been the enemy."

"You're clutching at straws a bit, aren't you?"

"Oh, yeah," replied Jones without hesitation.

They waited for five minutes without speaking another word. Finally, they could hear a vehicle approaching, and they turned to see an armoured officers’ command car rolling towards them.

"Stay where you are, and make no attempt to raise your weapons!" the Lieutenant said firmly.

The vehicle came to a halt, and Schulz stepped out with two other officers. One was already whispering in his ear before the door of the vehicle was shut, and it was all too clear that the man did not like Jones or his presence. But more than that, he appeared to be underhand and conniving in his actions. Jones could see he would be a thorn in their side.

Schulz had bags under his eyes. His skin was pale and his hair thinner than when they had last met. It wasn't just age that had weathered him; he had the look of a man suffering under a great burden. Jones saluted him as he approached, and Schulz smiled and returned the greeting before coming to a stop before him.

"Captain Jones. I wish we could meet under better circumstances, although I am glad to see you are well."

His voice was friendly and sounded genuine and honest.

This is not a man actively working for the enemy, Jones thought.

"What can I do for you?" he asked.

It was an odd scenario, as the General appeared to address him as a friend.

"Sir, I am searching for my wife. She was taken by clandestine forces with the UEN from a military hospital in Meaux."

"I am sorry to hear that, Captain. It sounds a most bizarre situation. Are you sure those are the facts?"

"I am," growled Jones, "I saw it with my own eyes."

"I can honestly say that it had nothing to do with those under my command. I would never give such an order, or knowingly let such a thing happen. There are rules in war as there are in peace."

It was the most friendly and amenable Jones had ever seen the General.

"My sympathies, Captain, but I am not sure how I can help."

"Sir, the craft she was taken away on we tracked to this base. From here on, we have no idea where she was taken, but I beg of you to pursue this and find her for me."

One of the officers beside the General leaned in and spoke in his ear. It was the same dubious character Jones had previously disliked. He knew he was going to be a problem from the moment he first saw him. The General began to respond but was interrupted by the man's whispering once more.

"I am sorry, Captain, but we have no records of any such craft having arrived...and there is nothing more I can do."

"Excuse me, Sir, but that's bullshit and you know it. This is your base. This is your army, and this is on your conscience, should you refuse to help."

The man who had been whispering beside the General finally stepped forward. He was in his early forties and slight. He appeared to have an eternal sleazy smile across his face that stank of an untrustworthy character. He wore the uniform of a Major, but he did not carry himself like an officer, more a politician.

“Excuse me, Captain,” he interrupted before Schulz could continue, “but the General does not owe you any favours. We are not aware of your wife’s location, nor do we have any duty to assist you in finding her. She is, after all, an enemy combatant. In fact, we should rightly have you detained, right now.”

Jones was disgusted by his comments.

“You’re a wretched excuse for a man,” he replied, “We came here under a flag of truce.”

“And yet I see no flag,” he replied with a wicked smile.

Jones could already tell the situation was going south. The Major was clearly either an alien agent or a heavily indoctrinated sympathiser. Taylor turned his attention back to Schulz, whom he appeared to be making some headway with.

“Sir, I please ask you again. You are the only man I can turn to for help now. Forces within your control are holding my wife or know who is. Will you help me?”

“You have thirty seconds to get back aboard your ship, and get out of here before I have you arrested,” the Major replied for him.

Schulz dipped his head in shame. Jones could see he was disillusioned and did not know how to respond to his predicament. Jones had to keep pressing him.

“General, Sir. Will you let this go on, the butchering of the human race? Will you continue to be controlled by the enemy?”

He knew he was pushing his luck now, but he refused to give up.

“Twenty seconds,” the Major continued.

“You know this is not the way. Fighting alongside the Krys and letting them invade and conquer our planet. You have seen what they are capable of.”

“Ten seconds, Captain.”

The Major looked around and waved his hands to usher the troops in and to raise their weapons, which they did reluctantly.

“You have five seconds, Captain.”

Jones could see he wanted nothing more for them to twitch or make a single inclination of resistance.

“Three, two…”

“Stand down!” Schulz suddenly yelled.

The Major was stunned and looked at him with wide eyes.

“Sir, these are enemy combatants. They probably mean to assassinate you and inform the enemy of vital base information.”

“Shut up!” he bellowed.

The General seemed to stand a little taller and a regal presence returned to his posture.

“We cannot help these men!” argued the Major, “They should be killed where they stand!” he screamed.

With that, the General pulled out his sidearm and fired a single shot into the man’s head that killed him instantly. His body slumped to the floor, and despite the shock of seeing it, not one of the soldiers reacted. He turned around and walked along the line of his own people.

“That man was a spy, an alien agent. We know they’re among us. We all have for a long time. It’s time we stood up to them and did what’s right. Does anyone have a problem with that?”

They shook their heads. He looked to the other officer who had arrived with him, a younger man who looked most shocked by what he had witnessed.

“Lieutenant, find this ship that took Captain Jones’ wife. Find out who took her, when they arrived here, and where she is now.”

The man nodded uneasily.

“Now!”

The officer snapped into action, rushing back into the vehicle to sit at a console and get to work.

"I thought we were doing the right thing!" Schulz said quietly, "I thought we were doing the best thing for all of us. But the more time goes by, the more the Krys reveal their hand, and I am losing hope for us all."

"It's not too late."

"For what?"

"Join us. What's done is done, but you can put a line in the sand now and bring an end to it."

"Look around you, Captain. This war is soon to be over, what more can I do?"

"It will be over if those of us who should be fighting for humanity give up."

"And what are you doing here? A war is raging out there, and you aren't fighting it."

Jones nodded; he knew it was true.

"I admit this is a selfish act, but you cannot say I have not given it my all. When I get her back, I'll be taking the fight right back to the enemy any way I can."

"And we are not the enemy?"

"You shouldn't be. You can choose not to be."

Schulz thought on it for a moment. Clearly it was something that had been plaguing his mind for some time. The Lieutenant in the vehicle rushed back to the General and showed him details on a Mappad device. Schulz looked pained even as he looked over the information.

"What is it?" insisted Jones.

"Your wife was here, certainly. But no longer."

He took a deep breath.

"Well, where is she?" Jones demanded.

Schulz hesitated for a moment, not that he didn't want to say it, only that he knew it wasn't the answer Jones wanted.

"She's been taken to the Fatihi, Lord Erdogan's personal ship."

"His flag ship?" Jones asked in surprise.

He remembered seeing the vast ship when it first jumped into the system while they fought to disarm the defence grid.

"Why?"

Schulz shrugged. "I have no idea, and I am sorry."

Jones shook his head. "You are on the side of evil here, Sir. There is still time to come back from it, but I pray you do not leave it too late."

The Captain turned and left without another word. He climbed aboard, and nobody said a word until the engines were running and they were lifting off the ground.

"What are you gonna do?"

"Right now, Evans, there’s nothing we can do. We get back to Taylor. It looks like our missions just became intertwined."

* * *

Taylor sat in a room with almost a hundred officers. He knew this was it, the final briefing on what they were to undertake. He couldn't believe it had come so soon, and he wondered if any of the others had any inkling as to what was being proposed. The room was quiet as they all waited for Dupont to address them. He was the only general who had held his rank since the previous war, and that made most treat him like the grand leader he was. Taylor had managed to clip two hours sleep in before the gathering of officers, and he felt a new man for it.

Dupont began talking and did not stop for fifteen minutes. In that time, he had explained all he had told Taylor previously, as well as some more filler information. None of it provided anything useful to him. Most of the officers were stunned by what he had to say, but he could also see relief in many faces at the realisation they may both survive and get away from the relentless struggle simultaneously. Finally he asked, "Any Questions?"

"How quickly can we get people aboard these barges?" came the first.

"It is already underway, has been for some time. As well as being used as city block structures, the barges have also been utilised as refugee centres. Those nations I am presently in contact with have on average eighty-five percent capacity."

"So it is already decided who will go?" asked another.

"This isn't a lottery," replied Dupont, "Every soul who is aboard one of these barges when they lift off, as well as any other humans who can get aboard a space bound vessel, will be coming with us. I don't like it, and I don't expect any of you to either. But we have to face up to what is before us. We save as many as we can. Additionally, priority will be given to serving military personnel over civilians. We need every fighter we can possibly get, if we expect to have even the remotest chance of survival."

"And this is your plan, your decision?"

Dupont shook his head. "This was a joint international emergency measure established under the guidance of key military officials and world leaders."

"But you were involved in setting it up?"

"Yes, but let me just say now. I do not have time for a hundred questions. Time is certainly not on our side. This is our plan. If you do not like it, stay on Earth, and I wish you every luck. The exact structure of this operation and your orders is being uploaded to your Mappads as we speak, Operation Angel, the largest exodus of the human race in our history. The first vessels lift off in three hours, as you will see on your Mappads. That is all the time you have. Colonel Taylor and Major Moye, will you please come forward? The rest of you are dismissed!"

The room quickly emptied as the officers studied their Mappads. As they left, Taylor approached the General. He had never heard of Major Moye, but he could see a tall black French officer approaching in parallel with him.

"Take a seat," said Dupont.

"The two of you have been selected for the most important of operations, one which all else depends on."

Great, no pressure, Taylor thought.

"There is no doubt that many millions will get off this planet, no matter how many die during this operation, that much I am certain of. What is uncertain is how we will escape the reach of Erdogan."

Taylor had seen this coming and wondered what great plan might have been concocted to get past such a glaring weakness in their strategy.

"Erdogan has ships as fast, or more so, than we do. Hence, if we run and he follows, we will likely lose. So it is not enough to get past his fleet, not even enough to temporarily disable it. Neither do we have any means of destroying it. The only option left to us is to put such a great distance between us that we are beyond the enemy’s reach."

"Fine words, Sir, but how is that possible?" Taylor asked.

He looked over to the Major and shrugged, but Moye struck a scornful look and turned back to focus on the General. It was obvious he didn't like Taylor one bit.

"Erdogan's ship, that behemoth up there, we know it has the capability of creating a space gateway all on its own. A technology not shared with any other ship in the enemy fleet."

Taylor could already see where he was going, and he didn't like the sound of it.

"Gentlemen, I want you to meet someone."

A doorway opened behind the General, and an alien stepped though, dressed much like Jafar was when they first met - a bodyguard of a Krys Lord. Its armour was ornately decorated, but he appeared to carry no weapons. Taylor launched his chair back as he stood upright and drew his sidearm to quickly train it on the creature.

"What the hell is going on here, Sir?"

"It's okay, Taylor. He's with us," Dupont replied calmly.

Taylor studied the creature's face. It seemed to show no aggression at all, but it appeared to be carefully and intensely studying him.

"He's on our side!" Dupont repeated, "Now put your weapon down!"

"How do we know he's not still working for the enemy?"

"Because your man Jafar approved him!" yelled Dupont, "Now sit down!"

Taylor was surprised and slowly holstered his weapon and did as ordered.

"This is Aysen, and he tells us he owes some kind of blood oath to Jafar. A guarantee of his loyalty to him and us."

"You're sure about this?"

"Do you trust Jafar?" asked Dupont.

"Yes."

"Then I trust Aysen."

Taylor was having difficulty accepting it. It had taken exceptional circumstances and a long time for him to truly accept Jafar as one of them, and he did not like this being thrown into the mix at such a vital moment in all their lives.

"Aysen has given us vital information regarding the layout of Erdogan's ship, which he says is called the Fatihi. He says he can operate the gateway device. Isn't that right?" he added as he looked to the alien looming over them.

"Yes."

Real conversationalist, maybe he is who he says he is, thought Taylor.

"So we're just gonna fly in, open a gateway, have several millions fly through it to god knows where, and then blow Erdogan to hell as we make our getaway?"

"In essence, yes."

"And what stops us from being blown to hell while we try and do this?"

"Many of the alien resources are on Earth at present and will need some time to get airborne. It will be the job of all remaining forces on Earth to stop them. It will be their sacrifice that will see us to safety."

"And getting to Erdogan's ship, the..."

" Fatihi," Moye replied sternly.

"Much of our space fleet was scattered when this attack first began, but most survived. Many came back down to Earth, and many more on the far side of the Moon. At 1600 hours, an attack will begin on the enemy fleet led by the Washington. Aysen has already sabotaged a number of key enemy vessels, which will give us the upper hand for some time as the battle begins. At such time, one thousand men and women under your command, Colonel Taylor, will breach the Fatihi and carry out your operation."

"One thousand, Sir?"

"You will have your own people, as well troops from Major Moye’s 11th Parachute Brigade and the British 15th Commando Regiment. Utilising the Mastiff armoured breaching craft, you will board the Fatihi, open a space gateway, and keep it open long enough for us to get the fleet through, then set the gateway reactor to blow and get the hell out of there."

"And Erdogan?"

"He is most likely aboard at present. Should you get the opportunity, you will end his life."

Taylor could not help but laugh.

"I am not sure what there is to find funny about this operation," replied Moye with a straight face.

"It's just, unbelievable," replied Taylor, "It's insane."

"Yes, it is," Dupont added.

Taylor stopped laughing and turned to the General.

"It is as insane as the possibility of the extinction of the human race. We have a chance, not much of one, but we do have a chance at making a new life for our people. It may not be on Earth, but life must go on. This is our only hope. Can I trust in you to give it your all?"

* * *

"Load up! Load up! Let's move!"

They rushed aboard the Mastiffs that were one of the ugliest craft they had ever seen. They were bull-nosed metal boxes, with armour more akin to main battle tanks than transport vessels. They held a hundred men and women each. Taylor locked himself into a position near the front of the personnel bays. They stood upright in the vessel, almost shoulder to shoulder, with just a narrow walkway between each corridor of bays. They truly were crammed in like sardines.

"Looked a lot more spacious on the outside!" Parker shouted.

He looked up and found her braced in opposite him. They had barely spoken more than a few words to each other since crash landing to Earth aboard the Nassau. There had been no time for it, but he could see she was appreciative of the moment they now had.

"You think this can work?" she asked.

"Probably not."

She wasn't sure if he was joking or not, but she smiled anyway and chose not to find out.

Taylor looked around and watched his Company loading up beside him. They showed no fear at all, despite all knowing what they were about to undertake. They were as calm as ever. A line of Reitech shields were stacked further forward of his position just before the breaching doors. He knew he was at the front of the ship, but he could see no cockpit. Then he remembered seeing a small cubicle at the entrance, and he realised the pilot had the best protected position of all.

It wasn't long before the engines fired up, and they were lifting off the ground. He wanted to look out for one last aerial view of France, but even were he not restrained, there was not a single window on the vessel.

"We're on the highway to hell," he whispered.

Parker had heard the words.

"And there ain't no going back," she replied.

Taylor grabbed a wired intercom device beside him and opened a channel on the loudspeaker that ran throughout the ship.

"This is it," he stated, "This could be our last ever mission but accept that if it is, give it your all, and fight like hell. Remember the survival of our race depends on what we do here today. It's been an honour to serve with you all, no matter what. Just one last thing, we're going to the lair of the beast, Erdogan. You see him, you end his life!"

They all nodded in agreement, but there was no cheering and the tone sombre. He began to wonder if he had just seen Earth for the last time, not because he was risking his life, but because they may never return if they survived.

“Just think of all those millions of people about to lift off from Earth. I wonder how many of them have even been told?”

Taylor thought about her comments but he didn’t respond. They all knew what the stakes were, and not one of them showed less than their absolute finest determination to get the job done. The time passed quickly as they went through the atmosphere. Taylor was almost in a dream world as he contemplated the inevitable confrontation with Erdogan. He knew it would come one day.

The ship rocked as the first enemy weapon systems began firing on them. A second shot struck a few seconds later, and then a third. They waited and counted the seconds until the next impacts, but after a full minute they had not come. Taylor looked over to Jafar and Aysen, who stood opposite him in hastily repainted armour and a French flag painted on the side of his chest.

“You really did it?” asked Taylor, “You really sabotaged the enemy weapon systems?”

“Of many of their vessels,” replied Aysen, “but they will soon recover to full operational capacity.”

Maybe we have a chance yet, he thought.

They carried on for almost ten minutes without incident, and he counted every second on the display on his forearm.

“Masks on!” Taylor yelled.

They each hit the controls on their forearms that sealed their suits and lowered the clear screen on their helmets, sealing them against their collars. It was the moment Taylor realised they had been breathing from an air-conditioned artificial source since they boarded.

Have I breathed my last breath of air on Earth?

Taylor was truly fearful that they had reached the end of an era, the end of humanity, as they knew it. The threat of death to himself and those he loved he had grown used to and was all too familiar with. But their hold on Earth was something he had always held on to. It was the reason they fought. It was the only thing he would never give up. And yet now he had set off from the planet, knowing he may never return, even if he did survive.

This fact bothered him more than anything else. The thought of never stepping foot on Earth again was more worrying than facing Erdogan. It was in this moment he overcame his fear of the alien leader.

I will return to Earth, and nothing will stop me, he told himself.

The ships soared towards the Fatihi, passing several dozen enemy vessels en route. Many were powerless or intermittently trying to redirect. Half of them were unable to act. Simultaneously, the allied fleet was descending on the enemy craft. Railguns and missiles fired on the disabled vessels, but they were soon preoccupied with those enemy vessels still active. The fire began to target the Mastiff column once again, and they could do nothing but absorb the fire.

The heavily armoured Mastiffs had no weapons at all. They were nothing more than armoured coffins with a ramming prow. The relentless fire of the enemy finally smashed through the first Mastiff as they were on their descent to the Fatihi. As the next came under fire, two of the allied frigates soared into view and crossed into the line of fire and took the worst of it. They were struck one time after another and kept going despite it.

The two ships were ripped apart as the Mastiffs made the last few hundred metres and themselves plunged through the wrecks of the allied frigates. Mitch knew their own forces would be taking a beating outside, and he was glad his people weren’t able to see it. He could see their destruction in his head, and it made him feel sick.

They were just moments from contact with the Fatihi when Taylor locked eye contact with Parker. He didn’t say a word, but his expression spoke a thousand words. A tear came to her eye before it dropped down her cheek and onto a smile.

Taylor finally opened his mouth to say something to her but was interrupted by the impact they felt when they burst through the wrecked hulk with little resistance. Another of the Mastiffs blew apart under the weight of dozens of shots from enemy vessels, but it was the last of it. The other eight craft used reverse thrust at the very last moment before plunging into the hull of the Fatihi.

Taylor and his people were rocked by the impact, but the restraining braces they were locked into kept them all in position and without injury. His Mastiff came to an abrupt halt after plunging through three interior walls of the ship. Taylor couldn’t believe the Mastiff has stayed in one piece. He had never believed in the design and opposed using them.

Fucking things worked after all, he thought.

The braces holding them in retracted five seconds after they came to a standstill, and it felt good to be released from their hold. Just seconds later, five ramps on either side of the Mastiff opened and dropped down onto the deck of the Fatihi.

Here we go again.

He lifted his rifle, cocked the firing mechanism, and then looked out to his Company. They had not yet moved and were looking to him to take the first step. He could see the worry in their faces. Every other insertion into enemy territory had been followed by immediate and rapid deployment. He went to move but stopped for just a second, realising the fear that overcame those around him. He knew all he could do was lead by example.

“We’re here. We’re within arm’s reach of the asshole that is trying to destroy our world. Let’s get this done!”

It was all he could think of to say. With that, he rushed for the nearest ramp and leapt out with fervour.