Battle Earth X (17 page)

Taylor then carried onward and left Huang standing speechless in the corridor. As Taylor walked away, he heard Huber step up to the man and say, "You listen to Taylor. Many men haven't and paid the price."

Taylor didn't want to pick a fight. He only hoped his comments would be enough to keep Huang in line. The loss of his own people that day made him truly appreciate how valuable all their lives were, and how they could not afford to fight one another. He walked on down to the galley to get some much-needed food. As he entered, he could see Eli Parker sitting alone and deep in thought. So much so, she didn't even notice his presence.

He simply stood and watched her for a moment. Her shirt had a long line of stitches where she had recently repaired it. Her hair was tied back, and a cut on her forehead was covered over with a small dressing. Her knuckles were red from the chafing of her gloves, and yet he looked down to see her boots were polishing to a mirror finish. Every attention she had made to keep up her presentation, despite the raggedness it could not conceal. It brought a smile to his face that she tried so hard. But he wondered then if it was simply training kicking in or if she really cared.

Somebody paced up beside him and stopped shoulder to shoulder. He turned to see that it was Major Moye.

"You care about your people more than I was led to believe," he stated, "I judged you by your reputation."

"Really? And what is that?"

"Many things, and some that are true, but I was led to believe you threw away life for your own personal glory. I see now that is not the case."

He offered out his hand, and Taylor gladly accepted it.

"How are your people doing, Major?" he asked.

He shook his head. "Not good. I've got thirty-eight left of a Company. Maybe a few more will recover. Look at me, a Major in charge of a platoon."

"Been there, and it's not a happy place. We all paid a heavy price today, your people more than most. I won't lie. We aren't a lot better off ourselves. I would offer you a position within my Regiment, but the truth is, we need competent combat officers such as yourself. We need field officers."

"But with so little left to command?"

"It's time to replenish the ranks, Major. We've got three million people in this fleet. The vast majority are civilians. Many are needed for vital occupations, but a lot are not. It's time we started recruiting and getting some fresh blood into our ranks."

"And you think we can do it? You think we can train up a new generation? I have so many losses I need to replenish, that by the time I were through, I would not recognise my own Company. They would be greener than you can imagine."

"Not with us to guide them. We don't have a choice in the matter. Train up new fighters or simply run out. Come on, join me."

He went forward and took a seat before Parker. As she looked up and saw him, her face suddenly lit up as if all colour was restored to it. Within a second of sitting down, a plate of food was slid before him from Abbot who took a seat beside him and several others the other side. It was like a family sitting down for their meal just as it always had been, and that gave Taylor hope.

Becker looked like a stone statue as he stood opposite Kelly. They were listening to the other officers bicker and argue over the next course of action.

"Captain, what do you think?" one of them asked Becker.

He finally turned and looked at the man.

"I want them to suffer."

That was all he said.

"Now we're talking," replied Kelly, "You, what was your name again?" he asked the man who had finally drawn a word from Becker.

"Lieutenant Oster."

"And you?" he asked as he pointed at the next one.

"Lieutenant Thalberg."

He only looked at the last, expecting him to answer.

Lieutenant Decker."

"You're all tank commanders, is that right?" Kelly asked.

They nodded in acknowledgement.

"So, without meaning any offence. You have fought the wars from the confines of armoured vehicles in squadrons of what, hundreds of other vehicles in regular formations, and taking orders from a central command? What the hell do you know about fighting a guerrilla war?"

"How dare you..." Decker began.

"No!" Becker shouted and slammed his fist down on the table.

They were silenced.

"Kelly is right. It doesn't lessen what any of us have done these past years, but he does highlight a major flaw in our knowledge and abilities to take on this kind of fight."

"Well what do we do?" Oster asked.

"Rely on the only man here who actually knows what he's talking about," he said, looking towards Kelly.

"That old man? He isn't one of us. He isn't even a soldier anymore," Oster complained.

"Neither are you," said Becker, "We still have our uniforms and some hardware, but there is no army, and no government. We're a bunch of survivors who have come together for the apocalypse. Whatever ranks we hold, and whatever you think you might be entitled to, it doesn't mean anything anymore. None of it matters. All that matters is what skills you have and what ability and resolve to use those skills. Am I right?" he asked Kelly.

"But we're a few hundred against whole armies," said Oster.

"God is not on the side of the big battalions, but of those who shoot best," replied Kelly.

"Great, another piece of philosophy. That's not going to win any battles, is it?" asked Oster, "What help is God? He hasn't done anything for us this far."

"Maybe not," said Decker, "but Kelly is right in the sentiment at least."

"Thalberg, what do you think?" Becker asked, "You haven't said a word."

"If Kelly is skilled at this sort of fighting, then we must rely on his judgement."

It was the decider.

"Okay," said Becker, "I want to hit these alien bastards ASAP. I don't want them thinking the World went out without a fight. Kelly, I am putting you in charge of organising and planning the first attack. I want to be involved in the process from start to finish, and will have ultimate say in what does and does not happen. Are we clear?"

"You got it, Captain."

"Then let's get started."

"Okay. First thing's first. This base we have here, the Drachenburg. It is a good strong base of operations. It has a wealth of resources and can sustain us for some time. But none of that will matter if the enemy gain knowledge of its presence. Nothing will stop them from busting this bunker. We cannot take them in a straight up fight. You can't think of yourselves as regular soldiers anymore. You do not present yourselves for battle, and you never give your position away. Every action we make takes place at a minimum of five klicks from this facility. Do I make myself clear?"

They all nodded in agreement.

"That must be an absolute blanket rule. We do not take shots at passing craft. We do not attack passing convoys or troops within that area. Now this is a pretty isolated place, so I wouldn't expect us to see much of them out here, but even so. Nobody fires a weapon or engages the enemy within five klicks unless their lives are in danger. If this facility is discovered, then we are likely finished."

"It's going to be pretty hard to use our armour if we have to be so secretive."

"That's right, Oster, but our advantage lies in the element of surprise. Your tanks didn't win the last war in a stand up fight; remember that. We will have use of them yet, but they will not be the principal tools of our forces. We are all going to have to live and fight very differently. When I arrived here, you had a tank and personnel guarding the road several klicks out, is that right?"

"It is," Becker confirmed.

"We need them to carry on in their duties to watch and observe. However, those I met were set up for a trap that would guarantee combat, should any enemy forces take that road."

Becker nodded in agreement.

"That won't do at all. You must open road access and conceal those forces far better, so they may monitor any enemy presence but are not obliged to engage them."

"So we let the enemy walk right by, instead of blowing them to hell?"

"Listen and learn, Oster," said Becker.

Kelly took in a deep breath, realising he had an uphill battle to break them of their ways.

"Yes. You may destroy an enemy vehicle or two that you encounter, but many more will follow. Remember, we cannot afford to be swamped by enemy forces. We engage them at the time and place of our choosing. In every encounter we must control the ratio of forces, the ground, and the timing."

"And you think you can do that?"

"We have to, Oster. It's the only way we can fight this enemy and stand a chance.”

“All right, then layout your plan.”

“First thing I need is information. What enemy have you encountered? Their strength, position, and type of forces.”

“At present, it’s just small aircraft, and that’s about it,” said Decker.

“The big stuff is probably heading for the cities to secure them,” Becker added.

“Okay, we start small. Low risk. That’s how this gets started. It doesn’t matter if we kill just one alien or take down one vehicle. The important thing is we get it done right from the start and get away clean. Above all else, it is absolutely essential that everyone in this…whatever we have here…understand the most important thing is to maintain the secrecy of this location. That means nothing compromises it.”

They all nodded as if they knew what that meant.

“That goes beyond the obvious, Gentlemen. That means NEVER compromising. If you have to not shoot because it will compromise our position, you don’t. If you have to leave someone behind rather than compromise our location, you do. In fact, you put a bullet into them so that they don’t compromise it. Do you understand?”

Their automatic agreement to everything he said stopped when they realised the cold hard truth of what he was saying.

“Don’t think for a moment I am exaggerating,” he added, “The individual now means nothing. Everyone is expendable to maintain the security of this facility. But it isn’t because we are protecting civilians. There are no civilians any longer. The existence of this facility and this army we have is vital to ensure we keep being a pain in the ass to that alien scum. That is our goal from now on. We live to make their lives difficult, and to that end, this army must last as long as it possibly can. Do you understand that? Our individual existence is not important, except for being one of the soldiers. We never want unnecessary losses, but the individual is not more important than the mission.”

* * *

Taylor stood before almost one hundred men and women who had been assembled as potential new recruits to the Regiment. They stood in what resembled a formation, as much as Parker could manage in a few moments of getting a hold of them. Taylor turned to look at Silva who had been in charge of assembling the first group of potentials.

“This the best you could find?”

“Not sure they are the best, Sir, but they are the first lot we found that were available to serve and of an age appropriate.”

“And you think they are up to the task?”

“No,” he replied bluntly.

Taylor smiled and was at least appreciative of Silva’s honesty.

He turned back and looked at them. They looked tired, agitated, and uneasy. It was the look of a group of people after a long haul flight that had another connection to make. He knew the feeling well. They ranged from spotty teenagers to those pushing fifty. Half of them were well out of shape. Few of them lacked any fire in their eyes. They looked ready to lie down and give up. He looked back to Silva.

“You better hope you can find better than this, or we’re in trouble.”

Silva couldn’t disagree.

Taylor stepped up onto an ammo box so that he could be heard. They were in the gymnasium of the Washington, one of the few high-ceiled rooms on the vessel, and where the sound echoed around the walls.

“I am Colonel Mitch Taylor. I am looking for volunteers to enter a training programme that if you pass, you could be a member of my Regiment. You will have an opportunity to serve the people of this fleet and protect its future. If you want no part of that, or think you aren’t up to the task, turn around and leave now.”

Many of them looked surprised but nobody moved.

“You heard me. This is your chance to leave. If you stay, then the only reason you get out of your responsibility is if you flunk out because you aren’t good enough for this Regiment. So, I say again. If you don’t want to be here, or you don’t think you are up to the task. Leave now!”

One of the men in the front rank stepped out and walked away. He was shortly followed by several more until dozens were breaking rank. He was finally left with just half of the group that had been assembled. Parker leaned in close and whispered to him.

“Sure that was wise?”

“They were never gonna be up to the task. We just weeded out the first bunch of slackers, losers, and lowlifes,” he replied quietly.

Parker stood back so that he could go on addressing the crowd.

“The Inter-Allied needs personnel, but it doesn’t need just anyone. We require high standards. Those who stay and go through our training process stand a chance of becoming a member of our elite family. Those who fail or are not accepted will be sent back to the ships you came from and appointed other work. It won’t be easy. Training will not be fun. The job is not safe or well paid. In fact, it isn’t really paid anything anymore. We do this because we know we must, and we have a duty to all those aboard the ships of this fleet. If you think you can be one of us, stay, and give it your all. I wish you every luck and leave you in the capable hands of Sergeant Parker.”

He then turned and left. Silva followed him.

“Think that was harsh enough?” Taylor asked him.

“Not a chance, but Parker will weed out the rest.”

“Indeed she will, but I fear that will leave no one left at all.”

“Then we will find more. There are plenty more people in the fleet. I won’t lower the standard of our unit for any reason. We have to accept green marines and that’s life, but it doesn’t mean we have to accept shit marines.”

Taylor went onwards and left Silva with them. He shook his head. He had spent years building the Inter-Allied Regiment. It had evolved over time as he had brought remnants of other units into the fold, but they had always been well-trained and experienced troops. Now he did not have that luxury. He knew he had to bring in new blood, or risk being whittled down to nothing at all.

* * *

Kelly took a deep breath of the fresh winter air. He flexed his arm in the Reitech suit and appreciated the power it gave after the weakness he had felt so many times facing the alien forces. The suit kept most of his body warm, but he could feel the icy breeze on his cheeks. A very light snow was falling now, and he could tell they were in for a hard winter.

The prospect was strange for a man of the Moon, and yet a few short years in the south of Germany had taught him a lot. Just as he always did, he had studied in every spare moment and knew his surroundings well, but he was still not accustomed to the cold. Seasons passed on the Moon without physical change in their climate controlled environments.