Battle Earth X (19 page)

"Far too close," Berlin said, "We survived that more out of luck than skill."

"Yeah, well, I guess that's part of our lives now," replied Becker, "Luck. We do everything we can, as we always have, but we're gonna need a tonne of luck to keep this up."

Smoke arose from the craft high into the sky.

"This is going to attract attention."

"Good," said Kelly, "take up your positions. Let's get a little bonus out of this."

Kelly went back to his truck and pulled it off the road into nearby foliage, and then took up position in a well-concealed dugout beside Becker.

"Sure this is a good idea? We've taken out one of theirs. Doesn't seem like a good idea to hang about."

"As far as they know, one of their ships has gone down, and even if they radioed in what they saw, it will just be my truck, a civilian vehicle. They'll send another to investigate before deploying anything too heavy."

"You sure about that?"

"Yes, I'm sure, Berlin. You don't commit an army to investigate a single loss. This is our chance to expand on our work here today. Then we leave. A second ambush can work in our favour, but they won't fall for a third. Now listen up and be ready."

They sat and waited in their dugout for twenty minutes without seeing a sign of movement. Finally, Becker asked, "Why didn't you leave?"

Kelly looked surprised.

"What do you mean?"

"You're a civilian, or you were. You and your people could have gotten off the planet. Particularly if you pulled a few strings with Taylor. Why did you stay?"

"Why did you?"

"We're soldiers. We were there to defend our country."

"Yeah, so were we."

"And this country means that much to you?"

"Damn right it does. You truly learn to appreciate your own home ground once it's gone. I couldn't leave it again."

"But you know we're all gonna die down here. Maybe not today or tomorrow, but soon enough."

"Yeah, probably," he replied casually.

"So why?"

Kelly shook his head.

"I don't know how many more ways I can explain it. We're here. You're here. There's only one thing left for us to do, and we're doing it."

"You sound like Taylor," he replied.

Kelly laughed.

"Well, that can't be a bad thing. That crazy son of a bitch can survive anything."

They could faintly hear an engine in the sky.

"Everyone down. Get ready!"

It was almost half a minute until the ship came into view. It was the exact same model as the one they had destroyed and lay a crumbled wreck before them. The ship hovered above and circled the position, clearly investigating from the air.

"Come on, you alien bastard, land already," whispered Becker.

It slowly came in to a smooth landing, and as before, six Mechs stepped out to investigate. Kelly smiled.

"Predictable. They're like machines."

He raised his rifle to the shoulder and took careful aim at the nearest, squeezing the trigger so that a three-shot burst struck the creature and killed it instantly. Before it had even hit the dirt, another two-dozen rifles opened fire. The creatures were gunned down before they could loose off a shot. The ship's engines began to gain power to lift off and make a run for it.

"Bring it down!" Becker hollered.

The ship got a metre off the ground when a rocket streamed towards it. It hit one of the engines dead on and blew it off the side of the craft. The loss of one of the two engines caused the ship to go into a spin and crash back down into the wreckage of the first. Kelly jumped out of his trench and rushed to the wreckage. He pulled a grenade from his armour and threw it in through the breach in the hull, rushing back as it blew. Becker and the others ducked for cover when the explosion rang out, but as it settled, they got up and found Kelly was standing in front of the wrecked ship as calm as could be.

"Woohoo!" Becker shouted, "Nailed them!"

Taylor stepped into Huber's private quarters and saluted.

"Come in and sit down, Colonel."

"Yes, Sir."

"I have reviewed your report. Your conclusion is that the fleet is now free of all enemy presence?"

"I have been as thorough as is humanly possible, Sir."

"A number of the ships’ Captains are asking for a guarantee that we are free of them. Can you give it?"

"No, Sir, but I can ensure you that we have done, and continue to do, everything in our power to ensure the safety of the fleet."

Huber took a deep breath.

"That's what I told them. I told them there are no guarantees in war, but still they ask."

"Then give them the guarantee, Sir."

"But you said you cannot give it."

"No, I can't, but that doesn't mean you can't say it. Sometimes people just want to be told what they want to hear. And sometimes it is best to do so."

Huber shook his head as he poured himself a whisky and then another for Taylor.

"You've had to play the politician for too long."

"Not of my choosing, Sir. But if it takes one slight exaggeration to calm the Captains of the fleet, so be it. What we need more than anything else right now is calm and clear thinking."

Huber nodded.

"You said you wanted to scout this system?" Huber asked as a rather open ended question that he was looking for an expanded answer.

"Yes, Sir. It’s all very well that the fleet continues onwards, but we have many vessels in the fleet far faster than our average. Ships that could travel far and wide as we carry on our course."

"And you think it is safe to do so, to send out smaller scouting parties? Parties who will likely be too weak to take on any serious threat alone. Still too slow to outrun it, and all at the same time weakening our defence of the fleet?"

"Everything we do is a risk, Sir, and not making use of all our resources could mean us never finding new worlds and new mineable areas. To do this would spread our forces, but there is no safe option."

"Okay."

Taylor looked surprised. "Okay? You'll do it, Sir?"

Huber nodded.

"What the hell? Seems as good an idea as any. It's certainly true we need to know what we're dealing with wherever we are. I'll organise six frigates to send out in all directions, along with support fighters and such."

"Might I recommend a solid Marine detachment aboard each of the vessels, Sir?"

"Yes, but you will not be with them. Your place is here, Taylor. You are a good fighter, but out in the field that is all you can be. One man."

"Excuse me, Sir, but I believe my value in combat amounts to more than the sum of a single marine."

"Yes, yes. I don't mean to insult you, Colonel. However, your leadership skills and command are far more valuable to me than your individual fighting skills. Better still, I like to know I have my best man at my side on my ship when the shit hits the fan. So there it is. I'll organise the ships. You see to it that their Marine detachments are well equipped and of good number. But you may not allocate your own people, or any of the marines aboard this ship to this endeavour, do you hear?"

"Aye, aye, Sir."

"Then drink up, Colonel, you have work to do. I have already assembled the frigate Captains via commlink in operations room B. They await your arrival."

It was then Taylor realised he wasn't being asked his opinion on anything. He had been brought there to be given his orders. It had just been disguised as a pleasant chat and a drink with an inquest into his thoughts.

"Yes, Sir," he replied.

He got up, left, and went straight to the operations room as ordered where he found the projections of the Captains displayed at modules placed on the table in front of six of the seats. He did not recognise a single one of them, but he could see Huber had selected them from various different navies.

Wise move,
he thought, after seeing how close they came to fighting each other so recently.

"I assume Admiral Huber has already briefed you on your missions?"

They all nodded in agreement.

"And you have designated areas plotted already?"

They agreed again.

"Then I am here merely to arrange Marine detachments for all of your vessels."

"We already have marines aboard," one of them said.

Taylor didn't even bother asking his name. He just went right into his response.

"The Lo Yang had marines, brave men and women who went into combat without hesitation. Barely a single one of them survived the fighting aboard the barge yesterday. Those who survived made it because experienced and well-equipped marines saved their asses. Now I don't know a single one of you, but that doesn't mean I have no care for you and your crews. Right now, if you get boarded by any number of enemy hostiles, you can be pretty damn sure you won't survive the experience. I am here to make sure we don't lose any more ships, and we don't lose any more people. Admiral Huber has given me full command and authority to equip and assign the Marine detachments to your vessels, and you will abide by my ruling. Have you got that?"

They agreed, but he could see none of them liked it, so he went on.

"I am not trying to pick a fight with any of you. I am not here to assert my authority and try and take charge of the situation. I want to see you live through this mission, is it that too much to ask for?"

Still nobody said a word, but they were starting to come over to his point of view.

"Good. I will have your Marine detachments and additional equipment for your own personnel despatched to you by 0700 hours tomorrow so that you may depart at 0900, as per Admiral Huber's orders. Thank you, that will be all."

He got up and left without waiting for a response. He didn't like having to organise the mission without going out there himself. His first thought would have been to allocate his own officers and personnel to some of the ships, but he could not do that either. He knew he had to find others he could trust.

Taylor put a call through on the Mappad device on his arm. A moment later, Major Moye answered.

"What can I do for you, Colonel?"

"I need your help."

"Just say when and where."

 
* * *

Kelly's truck rolled into the hangar bay at Drachenburg, with Becker on the back of the truck bed, to an excited crowd who cheered as they came to a standstill. Two hundred of the people were there to greet them and clapped and whistled as they got out. Kelly couldn't believe what he was seeing. It was more joy and celebration than he had seen since the last war had ended.

"What are they so excited about?" Becker asked as Kelly climbed up onto the truck bed beside him.

"We just gave them something new in their lives beyond fear of death."

"What?"

"The chance of victory."

"Victory? We can never win."

"The war maybe, but we can win many battles. And everyone of them is reason to celebrate!"

He raised his hand to call for silence, and after nearly another minute of cheering, they slowly died down and listened.

"Today we destroyed two Krys ships and fourteen of their Mechs, to the loss of nothing more on our side than the roof of my truck!" he jested.

It brought some laughter, a rare and pleasant sight over the last few days.

"The enemy isn't invulnerable. They can be killed, they can be beaten, and they can feel fear. And that is what I intend to do. I want their soldiers to fear ever leaving their bases, for the chance they might run into us!"

More cheers rang out.

"Today's work is over. Well done to you all. We do this bit by bit. No grinding war that is always on our doorsteps. We fight them when and where we want, and then we celebrate our victories together!"

He jumped down from the truck and fought his way through the crowds to another truck covered over with a sheet. The crowd watched his every move and did not know what to expect.

"You all did well today. Now let's celebrate this victory, and every one that is to follow!"

He tugged at the sheet. It slid off and revealed a box truck with the rear door open. It was stuffed to the roof with alcohol.

"No way," said Becker.

"Dig in!" Kelly ordered.

The crowd went wild as he forced through, took a crate of beer, and fought his way back to Becker.

"You brought that with you?"

"A few of my boys did. I told them to gather all available vehicles. They gathered the delivery truck for the local bars. Just so happened it was out for delivery."

Becker laughed and Kelly passed him a bottle.

"This is hardly soldierly discipline," a voice said.

Kelly turned to see Corporal Berlin was standing behind him.

"No, it isn't. Times change. Look at these people," he said, "They need something to cling on to. They need some good in their lives. If getting slaughtered after doing some slaughtering keeps them going, then so be it."

He passed her a beer, and it was hard for her to refuse; she was starting to see his point.

"What are we now, Sir?"

"What do you mean, Becker?"

"Well, look at us. Tankers. We're a mix of forces of the Bundeswehr, retired Moon Defence Force, and there are a few others I don't even know who the hell they are. We have no command structure left, no Generals or leaders. What are we?"

"It is true we need an identity," Berlin joined in.

"Then we will make one. This place is what has brought us together," said Kelly. "The Drachenburg. Dragon Mountain, is it?"

"Something like that," replied Becker.

"Each one of these bunkers was named after a Schloss."

"So there are more like it?" Berlin asked.

"There are, but for the sake of security, I only ever knew of one. But you can be sure that wherever those other bunkers are, there are people like us keeping this fight going."

It was a heart-warming thought.

"So who are we now? Are we not the dragons in this mountain?"

Becker laughed.

"It's a little corny, don't you think?"

"More than a little," Berlin laughed.

"Yes it is, and maybe it's just what we need."

He climbed back onto the truck.

"Quiet! Everyone listen to me!"

They quickly calmed down but continued dragging out bottles from the truck.

"We are a community now! We are an army. Whatever we used to be. Wherever you used to call home, and whatever nationality you were, it doesn't matter anymore! Now we are brothers in arms. This is the Drachenburg, and we are the dragons of the mountain. Henceforth it is what we will call ourselves! We prowl these mountains. We stalk our prey. We are fire-breathing monsters. You all feared the aliens when they first arrived, as did I. They were terrifying creatures of immense power. Today we killed fourteen, without as much as a single shot fired in return. We are the monsters now. We are the creatures they will fear. We are the Dragons!"

The crowd cheered, and Becker shook his head at how absurd it sounded.

"You're pandering to the mob," he muttered.

"Yes I am," he replied without hesitation, "and isn't it exactly what they needed?"

It was hard for Becker to disagree, but he still smirked at the prospect. "Dragons? It's funny. Taylor would laugh if he were here, too."

"Perhaps, and yet he calls his comrades the Immortals. Is it any less pretentious?"

"No, but that was a name bestowed on them by others, and so they can rightfully continue to use it."

"Yeah, well, there isn't anyone left to praise our people’s achievements, so we must do so ourselves."