Battle Earth IX (15 page)

Then he turned his attention to their surroundings. They had landed amongst a number of shipping crates, and they could hear a lot of shouting around them. They lifted their rifles and raised shields in a circle. They could tell they had incoming and had nowhere to go.

A dozen troops rushed into the grouping of containers but did not fire. One was shouting, "Identify yourselves!" in a thick French accent.

Jones immediately lowered his shield and rifle and stepped out in full view, without any concern, and Taylor felt compelled to do the same. The man who had been screaming at them seemed even more surprised to recognise them than he was by their sudden appearance.

"What the hell are you doing here?" he asked, turning to his troops and ordering their weapons down. Their group relaxed and took relief in finding friendly forces.

"Captain Charlie Jones, and this is Colonel Mitch Taylor, Inter..."

"I know who you are," replied the Sergeant excitedly, "We need all the help we can get. You couldn't have come at a better time."

Jones looked to Taylor. He felt for the troops who looked like they were going through hell. He tried to think of a way of explaining it.

"Where is the rest of your unit?"

"This is it," replied Jones.

The Sergeant turned to Taylor for answers, but Taylor was already giving them before he could open his mouth to ask them.

"France is falling. You must see that. We're here to get one of our own out, and then we're out of here. You should do the same."

The Sergeant was shocked.

"I'm sorry, but we have a mission to accomplish, and we must get on," stated Jones.

With that, he strode forward and in between the Frenchmen, who were left stunned and bewildered. Taylor felt sick to be leaving them to fend for themselves. He didn't recognise a single one of them, but he'd bet good money he'd fought alongside them at one time or another.

"That was cold," he muttered to Jones.

"This is war. We do what we have to do."

Taylor had rarely seen him so determined in all his life, except for after his recovery from the enemy prison camp. His bitter determination had led him to near death then, and it was a warning sign Taylor knew he should take note of, and yet could not find a way to act upon.

Pulses smashed the ground throughout the base, but none came closer than fifty metres to the small group. They could hear the fiercest fighting was still going on to the east.

"You know that's where we gotta go?" asked Taylor.

Jones nodded as they took a turn and headed right for it.

"Then let's hope the hospital hasn't been overrun," he replied.

"Hope? I got room for a whole lotta hope, but it seems to be what we're living off these days, and it can't carry us through."

"Why? Why can't it?" insisted Jones.

They passed a line of wounded who were being patched up ready to go back into action, and several platoons were going the same direction as them. Nobody even noticed their presence or identity, for they looked no different than any other soldier there.

"Vive la France! Vive la France!" a voice called out.

They looked over at an officer doing his utmost to spur the troops on as he led them forward to join the fight. He was portly for a field officer, and old too. Then they realised it was Dupont, fully armoured and equipped and with rifle in hand. It was the most substantial sign of the times.

"Oh, shit, things must be bad," said Taylor.

Jones ignored it and carried on, but Taylor was right. They both knew that when a General was forced to take up arms at the frontline, it was the beginning of the end.

"There it is!" Taylor shouted.

Jones said nothing as he continued onwards in his laconic determined fashion.

We’re almost there! Please be there, please be there, and please be alive!
Taylor thought.

It was a straight road leading to the hospital that lay to the northern side of the road. They were just a hundred metres from the door when a building to the south side collapsed, and an enemy tank burst out from the wreckage to block the road. Troops scattered as its turret was brought to bear on them.

"Get down!" Taylor screamed.

The others jumped for cover but not Jones. Before he could take another step, Taylor grabbed him, tossing him into an alleyway for cover and leaping after him. A pulse burst where they had stood seconds before, and two French soldiers who had made a break for cover were vaporised.

Jones was sitting up against a wall, and Taylor leapt on him, grabbing the collar of his armour. He smacked his helmet to get his attention, as he seemed to be in some haze of a dream world.

"We're getting her back, but not like this!" yelled Taylor, "I promise you we'll get her back, but not at the cost of any of our lives! I've seen you like this before, and I don't like it. Don't throw your life away because you're too embittered to think straight!"

Taylor smacked his helmet once more.

"I need your head in the game. I need Captain Jones, the soldier in you, not the single minded headstrong fool who would die through his own pig headedness!"

Jones seemed to take note of the comments and was surprised by the verbal assault that no one had ever levelled at him with such vigour.

"Now, on your feet and follow me!"

Taylor hauled him upwards and immediately jumped the wall, landing on a flat roof. They were looking down on the vast armoured vehicle that was still pounding the street below. They knew they had to move quickly. Taylor ran and jumped onto the next rooftop, and then another, before stopping to see a gaping hole in the second floor of the hospital ahead.

"Ah, shit," he said to himself, and he ran and jumped for the hole, hoping for the best. He tumbled in through the hole and barrelled into a hospital bed that was knocked aside before another finally stopped him. The other five tumbled in just as ungraciously as he had. As they got to their feet, they found themselves surrounded by bodies. The explosion that created their entry point had killed every patient in the room, as well as a doctor and several orderlies.

Jones went frantically from one body to another to check none were Coco, and eventually looked back at Taylor in relief.

"Come on, we need to move fast."

Taylor led them out into the corridor where staff ran back and forth still doing their jobs as if it were just another day. They passed the burnt out wrecked room as if it were not there. As one nurse rushed past, Taylor grabbed her arm and stopped her dead in her tracks. She opened her mouth to complain, but on seeing his rank and grizzled state, held her tongue.

"We're looking for a Sergeant Coco Dubois."

"I'll, I'll have to check the records."

Taylor released his grip and allowed her to lead the way.

She stepped up to a console on the wall and tapped a few buttons before turning back to them.

"I'm sorry, but she's been checked out."

"By who?" Jones demanded.

Taylor half expected it to be Dubois herself, ever persistent to join the fight.

If only that were the case,
he thought, as the nurse continued.

"It says she was checked out just a few moments ago under the supervision of Major Martin."

"Martin?" Jones queried.

Taylor thought on it for a moment and began shaking his head.

"If it's the same Martin, he's one of them, a clone!"

Jones face turned to horror, and he rushed through the ward with the others chasing him. He was heading for the nearest outlook over the frontage of the building; Taylor only two paces behind him. They rushed into a busy ward, stopping when they reached a window looking out onto the road. They spotted Coco immediately. She was walking on her own feet and being pushed along by a couple of humans dressed as French officers. Mechs surrounded them as they approached a small transport craft that had put down between several armoured vehicles.

"They're taking her, no!" he screamed at the top of his voice.

Jones reversed his rifle and smashed the window out with it. He put his foot on the edge to climb out, but Taylor got a hold and pulled him back. Jones turned and shoved Taylor back and tried again. Taylor was just as quick and hauled him inside once again. But as he was pushed back as before, he was backed against a wall and found Jones' rifle forced against his chin.

"Don't you stop me!" he cried.

Taylor kept a firm grip on Jones and would not let him move.

"You can save her. We can save her, but not now. We've lost this battle, but not the war. I will not let you die needlessly!"

Jones looked back to the window, and he could see the ship lift off and soar into the distance. He lowered his rifle.

"I've lost her," he said soulfully.

His shoulders were hunched, and he had the look of a defeated man.

"No," replied Taylor, "She's alive, and so are we. We'll find a way. Whatever we have to do, we'll do it. We'll get her back."

Jones sat on the floor, looking helpless. The others fired from positions at the window ledges onto the Mechs below.

"Jones, come on!" Taylor ordered.

Patients were being wheeled out by orderlies, and occasional pulses raced through the room. They kept their heads down. Taylor ducked down to put a fresh magazine in, but as he jumped back to his position, he could see the turret of the tank turn and begin elevating towards them. He quickly looked back to the others.

"Run!" he shouted.

He rushed towards Jones and grabbed him, dragging him towards the archway leading to the corridor. A few seconds later, the room flashed with a blinding light, and they were thrown forwards. Taylor plummeted right through an interior wall that did little to slow him down. As the dust began to settle, he got to his feet. All of them had made it, but the room they had been in was devastated. The floor had collapsed onto people below, and part of the ceiling was also missing. They could see right out to the enemy positions and soon rushed to cover.

"What are we gonna do?" asked Robinson.

Taylor paused to think for a moment; there seemed to be no easy answer. He looked down at Jones, who still seemed oblivious to the danger around them. He looked up and asked.

"Why did they take her?"

Taylor hadn't had any time to think about it, but now his head was filled with sinister thoughts he’d rather not have there.

"A whole hospital full of patients, a base full of soldiers, why her, Mitch?" Jones continued.

"I doubt it is any coincidence," replied Taylor.

"How do you mean, Sir?" Lewis asked.

"You all know this Erdogan guy, whatever he is, wants to bring me down. It's not just about me. It's about us. It's about what our unit stands for, and what we're famed for. He wants to make us suffer for his own amusement and for all to see."

"A whole world war, and he wants a piece of us that badly?" Wood asked.

"It's not as crazy as it sounds," Jones joined in, "It's starting to make a little sense."

"I wouldn't be surprised if she was taken to try and draw us into some trap. Maybe they expected to find us here? But they can't know we're here yet. I bet you a tonne of credits, they were hoping this would draw us out," said Taylor.

Jones shook his head. "I dunno, but I don't like it. Obviously, the fact they have taken her, but the whole thing stinks."

"Yes it does, but we've come back from worse," replied Taylor, "Right now, there is nothing we can do for Dubois but survive and keep up the fight, so that is what I need you all to do. A distracted man is a dead man, got it?"

Jones nodded, although it was clear he wouldn't be able to isolate the thoughts which plagued him, and Taylor knew he wouldn't be able to either.

"Someone's gotta take out that tank," said Robinson.

"You volunteering?" Taylor asked.

"With what?"

"Yeah, exactly."

"They could hear the pounding of footsteps coming up the fire escape stairs at the end of the hallway just a few metres beside them. They turned and readied their weapons, as now they weren't even sure which humans were on their side. Dupont rushed out onto the floor and stopped on seeing the Colonel.

"Taylor? What in the hell are you doing back here?"

"Good to see you, too, Sir. We came for Captain Jones' wife."

"Well, what are you still doing here?" he asked, pacing up to Taylor.

"Well, she's gone," he replied.

The General turned to Jones. "My condolences, Captain."

"No, Sir, she's not dead. She was just taken by the enemy. Spirited away on one of their craft. They sent clones in here to take her away."

Dupont was perplexed by the idea, but he was a lot more open minded about such things after everything he had experienced.

"So she was taken alive?"

Jones nodded. Dupont shook his head. "Then my condolences still, for I would not wish capture on anyone, anymore than I would death. This is a cruel and horrifying enemy."

"Which is why it is imperative we get her back as soon as we can," replied Taylor.

Another shell hit the building further along, and they felt the floor tremble beneath them.

"We gotta do something about that tank," said Taylor.

"We?" asked Dupont. He carried on past them with several French soldiers, carrying what had been come to know as RAT launchers - Reitech Anti-tank Launchers.

"Can't touch that damn thing from the front, and we can't get around it with Mechs crawling all over the place."

"You think it'll be weak on top, like our armour?"

"You better hope so," he replied.

Taylor followed them to the gaping hole they had recently fled from.

"Fire when ready," ordered Dupont.

Four RAT carriers took a knee and readied their weapons. The first fired without hesitation and saw it strike a corner of the turret and soar off into the ground before exploding. They saw bright light sparks ignite from the impact.

"What the hell do they put in those things?"

"God knows, Robinson," Taylor sighed.

The other gunners looked weary now and took their time.

"Come on, damn you, shoot," Dupont ordered.

The second fired and hit the top turret, causing an immense explosion that they had to look away from. But as they looked back, they could see it had put a dent in the armour and chipped away a little, but nothing of note. Then they noticed the turret pivoting their way.

"Oh, that's not good," Taylor grimaced.

"Don't aim for the turret. Shoot in front of it, down into the upper hull!" Jones hollered.

The gunners looked to Dupont for confirmation.

"Go on, do it!" he shouted as the barrel came in line to their position. The two of them fired almost simultaneously and landed the shots in front of the turret, almost in the exact same spot. The first ignited on the surface, and the second went right through the impact. An explosion ripped through the vehicle, as two hatches were blown open and smoke belched from them.

A cheer rang out from the troops on the ground, but not from those in the hospital. Dupont sighed in relief. He was as surprised they were still alive as Taylor was. But in the distance they could see more vehicles approaching, and Mechs still sweeping towards them. Hospital beds continued to be wheeled past them and walking wounded were being helped to the stairs.

"We have to get the wounded out of here," Taylor said.

"You keep talking about this ‘we’, Colonel, but you didn't come here to fight alongside us."

"No, Sir, but we're here now, and that’s just the way it is. So let's get them out to somewhere safe."

"And where would that be? Krys forces have all but surrounded us, and are taking this base one block at a time."

They looked down. The Mechs were encircling the hospital even as they spoke.

"I doubt you could get out now, even if you wanted to."

"Then have them fight. Every one of them capable of lifting and firing a rifle, have them do so."

Dupont thought about it for a moment, and he knew it was a desperate measure.

"They'll only die if we fail here anyway, so let them at least have a hand in deciding their own fate."

Dupont gritted his teeth and rubbed his chin, finally nodding in agreement. He looked over to one of his own soldiers.

"Do it."

He looked back to Taylor. "You should know that Washington has fallen, so to has New York, Baltimore, and many more. Obliterated."

"I was at Baltimore."

"Then I am sorry, Colonel."

Taylor didn't know so many had been destroyed, but it didn't surprise him at all after what he had seen and experienced.

"You're stuck here, you know that, right?"

Taylor nodded. "I've been stuck in many places in my life, General, and yet here I stand today, unstuck from all of them."

"That's right. The shit just seems to slide right off you," he replied, trying to smile.

They looked down to see the gunfire in the street below was already intensifying. The Mechs drove onwards past the burning wreck of the knocked out tank.

"Where do you want me, General?"

"Wherever you can do the most damage."

With that, he carried on towards the far eastern side of the building and took up position in a corner ward that had already been fully evacuated. Part of wall was missing, and that provided an excellent loophole for the few men he had to use. Taylor pulled out several magazines from his webbing. He lay down prone and put them in front of him as he looked out onto the base below.

"You taking up residency, Sir?"

"Looks that way, Robinson."

Jones lay down beside him and did the same. It was the first sign that he had heeded Taylor's words, and he nodded in gratitude for it.

"I need you, Charlie, and you know it. We stick together, see each other through, then we'll get her back."

Jones looked out of the hole and could see a number of Mechs advancing towards them without any attempt to use cover. They didn't need to, as nobody was putting up resistance.

"You better hope Dupont has some ammunition on tap because we're gonna need it."

"Yep," Taylor said casually.

He took aim with his rifle dead centre on the head of the first creature he set eyes on. He squeezed the trigger, and the well-aimed shot went clean through and dropped the Mech warrior instantly.

"That's how it's done," said Taylor.

The others took up positions either side him as if it were a shooting gallery and joined in. A shot rang out every two seconds from that hole as each of them took careful shots. By the time the first five Mechs had fallen, the rest were starting to take cover and respect the danger posed to them.

"You think we'll get out of this?" Jones whispered.

"Of course we will. We always do."

Jones wasn't sure if he were joking or had such unwavering confidence, but it amused him either way. It was the first smile Taylor had seen on Jones face since they got there.

"That doesn't look good," said Wood.

They looked back. The enemy numbers were growing, and armoured vehicles backed up by air support were behind them. Taylor quickly took aim at the first target he could and opened fire, and did not stop until every magazine laid out before him was empty. He got to one knee and felt around his webbing to find he had just a single magazine left. He looked down to Jones who had just found the same. As Mitch put the last of his ammunition into his rifle, he lay back down and took aim once more.

Mech bodies lay strewn about, although more still advanced, and many with shields now, too. He took in a breath and held it. He was about to squeeze the trigger when an explosion struck a group of Mechs in front of them. He looked away from his sight, and another four landed all around the first.

"Those aren't Krys shells. They're ours," said Jones.

Taylor stood up so he could look from what was left of the window. In the distance, he could see constant muzzles flashes and could just make out the silhouettes of French tanks approaching from the north and firing on the move.

"Holy shit," was all he could think to say.

"Where on Earth did they come from?"

"Guess the fight ain't quite over yet, Charlie."

They could hear cheering from the streets and watched as many of the enemy vehicles and armour turned to face them. As they did, another artillery barrage smashed the positions in front of them, and a wing of friendly fighters soared in towards the Mech craft.

"You see, Colonel; France is not finished yet."

Taylor looked around; Dupont stood in the archway behind them. He looked back to see the Mechs were already retreating towards the armour, and he knew they had gained a respite.