Battle Earth: 11 (14 page)

Kelly could feel that even as he said the words, he began to believe them himself.

"So we lie?"

Kelly shook his head.

"We gather information and intelligence, and we work on it, Engel. This is what I believe happened here. Maybe I'm right, maybe not. But who cares? What if we told Captain Becker there was hope? That the rest of our people knew there was some glimmer of hope for victory, and that we didn't just come out here to prolong our own eventual deaths? This is the most important event since we were forced from our homes in Ramstein. It's about what we believe in, Lieutenant. So what will it be? Will you believe in hope?"

He could see she wanted to believe it, and so did the others.

"When we found the Drachenburg, we found hope and a camaraderie we hadn't seen since the first war. I want that back, and you're gonna help me get it. We're not fighting to lose. We're fighting to win this war. Are you with me?"

A few grunts of approval came before some of them began to understand there was no reason not to think it. Even the faintest of hopes was better than none at all. The volume increased as they accepted what it was doing for their morale.

"Let's go on home with the good news. Let us return triumphantly and with a story of hope. Let's move out!"

He could see and feel the excitement amongst them now as they made their way back to the vehicles and headed on back to their people.

"We're heading home," Kelly said to Engel.

"Home?"

"We have lost enough buildings and towns we called home that they just don't matter anymore. Home is where our people are, whether that's in a bunker, on a ship, or in the middle of the wilderness.

"You really believe that?"

"Why not? Why can't one place on this world be our home anymore than any other place?"

He climbed aboard his jeep and began the long trek back. He felt like a new man on the return journey. The weariness he had felt on the way there was gone now. They had achieved just a small victory tactically, but there was far more to it than that. He had just found a cause worth rising for. When they finally rolled into the encampment, it was almost daylight. Becker watched them roll up with an intrigued expression. More than anything, it was their excitement and joy that dumbfounded him.

"You look like you just won the lottery?" Becker asked the Commander.

"I figure we have."

"So what was so amazing you found out there?"

"Hope," he replied with a smug grin.

"Don't bullshit me, Kelly."

"No bullshit, we got into a fight all right, with no casualties. But the ones we killed were there to investigate a battle we had no part in. Something big."

He had Becker's attention now and milked it.

"Someone shot down one of their vessels, something big, bigger than one of our own carriers, back when we had any."

"Someone?"

"I'd say ours."

"How?"

"I don't know how. I only care that it happened. We aren't the only ones in this fight, and whoever else is out there, they are hitting some hammer blows."

"So what are you telling me?"

"That all is not lost. We're still in this fight. We're still in this war."

Taylor stepped out onto the surface of the Aranui planet once again, but not as a stranger. This time he returned a hero to both sides. Huang and Irala stood side-by-side to greet him, and it was a reminder of the great days of the Inter-Allied victories that were celebrated so far and wide. Cheers rang out from the Navy crews who had gathered all around and many more marines who were amongst them.

"Fantastic work, Colonel, you surely deserve a medal in recognition of your extraordinary bravery and achievement," said the Admiral.

"Save it for when I'm standing on Earth, with Erdogan's head beneath my feet, Sir!" he shouted for all nearby to hear.

He wasn't joking either. He wanted nothing more in life than to see the alien Lord dead at his feet, and he didn't much care how he achieved it.

"You still believe you can kill Erdogan, after having failed previously?"

"You saw that, too, Irala?"

"I was told."

"Yeah, he's a tough son of a bitch, but I'll find a way, even if it kills me."

"Which it may well do."

"Well, you're a bundle of joy," he replied and went to smack Irala's shoulder, but remembered too late that as usual it was nothing more than a hologram. His hand passed through, and he almost fell over as he lost balance. He tried to save himself from embarrassment by laughing it off.

"We just kicked Erdogan's ass, aren't you a little happy about that?"

"It is an important step, but only the beginning. Rest yourself, and tomorrow we will continue our work."

Taylor opened his mouth to speak, but Irala had already vanished. He shook his head in disbelief.

"First real victory either of us have had in ages, and he can't celebrate even a little."

"Perhaps they understand the road ahead rather better than we do," replied Huang.

"Yep, and maybe they need to pull the sticks out of their asses and learn to enjoy the little things in life, and the big things for that matter."

Huang looked shocked at the way Taylor spoke to him and that brought a smile to his face. That only served to make Huang uncomfortable and offended further, but Taylor knew the Admiral had no choice but to accept him as he was.

"Sir, if you'll excuse me. My work for the day is done, and me and my boys have more than deserved a little time to celebrate."

"Preparations have already been made for you," he replied.

But Taylor was already on the move and heading for the bar that had been set up a week before. Only the drinks counters themselves were sheltered inside a temporary structure, and lines of bench seats and tables lay out in the open air. They were beside the lines of ships that were undergoing repairs and refits. But with the dry and warm atmosphere, nobody cared at all. Parker rushed to his side, and he wrapped his arm around her as he carried on.

"Never thought I'd see the day," she said.

"Which one?"

"The one where we celebrated a victory again."

"I know; I'd almost forgotten what it felt like to be on the winning side."

"How'd you think Erdogan is feeling right about now?" Morris asked, striding up to them.

"I bet he's pissed!" Silva laughed, "We just rolled up on his new home and took a dump on his porch."

"Nice," Morris grinned, "That's pure poetry."

"Poetry wasn't a requirement of recruitment into the Corps, Captain."

"Evidently."

Taylor laughed in response. "Fighters and drinkers, that's all we're good for."

"I can think of a few other uses for you," joked Parker.

They reached the bar to find the cups of beer handed out freely. The staff there had been recruited right off the civilian barges; they were a mix of nationalities. Many of them cheered Taylor's name, and he raised his cup to them.

“I didn’t think we’d ever see this,” Parker said, throwing back her drink.

“I know, look at them.” He watched their people celebrate like they’d won the war, “If we go on like this for the rest of our lives, I’d be happy.”

“Partying, Mitch?”

“A challenge, a fight, humiliating Erdogan, and then back here to celebrate. I could repeat that every week for life, Eli.”

“That’s good, because maybe that will be the case. War isn’t going to be over that easy.”

“I don’t know,” Taylor said, looking over to the alien vessels that had put down beside their ships, "Their technology is something else. With them, we might be in for a quicker fight than you think."

"Aren't you forgetting something rather significant?"

Taylor looked puzzled.

"Their tech is amazing, but they were beaten by the Krys before, and beaten badly by the looks. Ever stopped to wonder why?"

"Irala told me. It was a numbers game."

"And you think that's all? You think he's really telling you everything?"

Taylor shrugged. "Why wouldn't he? And anyway, the Krys aren't what they were. We may have lost the war, but we smashed their armies. We go back there together, and we're going back strong."

"Yeah, we smashed 'em, and they smashed us, too, but there aren't as many of us left as you seem to think."

"Irala tells me Erdogan has let many humans live. That's a whole lot of potential fighters we have down there. It will be the biggest mistake he ever made."

"Showing mercy?"

Taylor scowled.

"He hasn't shown any mercy. Those people are alive because he has put them to work or he hasn't managed to catch them yet. No, he wouldn't show mercy; he wouldn't know what the word meant," Taylor replied bitterly.

"I meant no offence, Mitch."

Taylor knocked back his drink and tried to get back into the spirit of the occasion. Even hearing Erdogan's name made him angry and on edge. But he put it past him now and went on in a determined manner to enjoy their celebrations. Next thing he knew, he was awaking in a bed in one of the temporary structures and was alone. He had a splitting headache and was massively dehydrated.

"Good morning, Colonel," a voice said to him.

He rolled over. Irala stood at the foot of his bed.

"Jesus, haven't you ever heard of privacy?"

"Yes," he said abruptly.

"Well, can I have a little?"

"I will wait for you outside," he replied and vanished into thin air.

"That's just plain creepy," Mitch muttered to himself, "Can't a guy get a goddamn lie-in just once in a goddamn while?"

He got up and pulled on his clothing and nothing more than a sidearm. It was a rare occasion he felt safe enough to wander freely without his gear. He stepped out into the bright sunlight and felt the heat burning his eyes.

Why? Why so early on this of all days?

"Good morning, Colonel," Irala repeated.

He opened his eyes. The Alien stood beside him. Then he felt something strike him lightly on his shoulder. It was Jafar offering him a flask of water. He took it appreciatively and knocked it back in one. Water dribbled down his mouth and uniform, but it felt so good he didn't care, and he knew the sweltering heat would have his shirt dry in no time.

"What can I do for you, Irala?"

"You asked me to share more with you about our race, and now we are ready."

It was unexpected. "Okay."

"Follow me."

He did so, and Jafar trailed close behind. Irala looked at Taylor, as if about say Jafar could not come, but Taylor beat him to it.

"He goes where I go. You trust me, so trust him."

Irala said nothing and led them onwards, out of the camp. They paced out into the middle of nowhere until Irala finally stopped. Taylor looked around in every direction for some sign of civilisation, but there was nothing but their fleet in the distance. Taylor sighed and wondered if his time was just being wasted.

"You got me up for this? For a walk about the desert?"

He asked as he kicked the sand and felt hard rock just beneath the surface.

"We've known each other for weeks, and still I see nothing but sand. A few ships, you. Well, not even you, a hologram. When are you going to let us in? We are allies."

The ground in front of him suddenly opened up and dropped down in a cascading fashion, forming a stairway like it had when they first met.

"This is why I brought you here." He held out his hand to invite Taylor in.

"Just the two of us? You know I don't lead my people, right? I'm just a marine...a fighter, that's all."

"It is clear to all that you are far more than that. Your significance to Erdogan alone showed us that."

He pointed down the broad stairway in the rock once again. Taylor looked in warily. He could see lights emanating from inside, but he couldn't see any other way in or out, and he didn't like that fact.

"You remember we are allies, right?"

Irala nodded.

"And you know we pose no threat to you, and neither does he," Mitch pointed to Jafar.

"We invite you in. I cannot promise your friend will be made comfortable, but I will guarantee both your safety while you continue to pose no threat to us."

"That's reassuring," he replied.

"You ask a lot."

"Well, we need a lot."

He went on down the stairway with Jafar close behind. The carried just a pistol and Assegai each, the lightest load any of them would ever carry. Fifty steps down, and Taylor could finally see the ground stretching out into a room. Irala stood in front of them. He turned back to see the hologram was still following them, but it vanished as he looked. He turned back to the alien now in front of him.

"You for real this time?"

He nodded, and Taylor outstretched his hand in friendship. Irala took it as if knowing the human gesture intimately.

"You know I'm really not keen on that hologram shit. Erdogan uses it to piss me off, and I don't much like being reminded of that."

"Then I am sorry that you are made uncomfortable, but our use of hologram technology is a necessity."

Taylor looked confused. "What do you mean?"

Irala gestured for them to follow him. It was at this time Taylor looked at the room they were in and studied it. The walls and ceiling were one cylindrical tunnel shape, and bands of light were spaced every couple of metres for as far as he could see. It gave such a balanced light it almost felt unnatural. The room corridor was more than twenty metres wide, and he could see others linked to it further along.

There was no sign of text, images, or decoration anywhere; not even cables, switches, or control panels of any kind. The smell too was just as surgically clean as the look. It smelt as if it had been cleaned with violently strong solutions that made Taylor's nose tingle, it was so severe. Despite the clean feel and appearance, it was far from inviting and homely.

"Makes the Fatihi look interesting," whispered Taylor.

"Yes," Jafar said, but made no comment.

They took a bend, and Irala stopped to look at what appeared to be nothing but a black wall. He passed his hand over an empty area of space nearby, and that blackness faded to reveal a transparent glass of some kind. Inside, three of Irala's kind lay on what appeared to be medical incubation tables.

"What is this?" Taylor asked.

"This is why we use holograms. We possess technology far superior to either of your races. Intellectually, we are a world apart, but physically we are...weak."

"Weak? Didn't look too weak kicking ass out there."

"All of our strength derives from advanced technologies."

He pointed to the suit he wore.

"Wearing of this suit, allows me to pick either of you off the ground and throw you across this room with little effort. Without it, I would struggle to push you off balance."