Battle Earth VIII (Book 8) (13 page)

Taylor looked down. He was approaching the roof of a three-storey building at a speed he probably couldn't survive. Just when he thought he was done for, he felt an impact; Jones had got a hold of his side. It slowed their descent a little, but it wasn't enough.

"Oh shit!" was all Taylor had time to scream.

The two of them struck the rooftop and burst through it with little resistance, striking the floor below, through that and the next one down again. They then hit water with a thunderous splash. Taylor just about felt his back knock into the bed of water before coming to the surface and gasping for air. He looked around and saw they had landed in a swimming baths.

"Jones!"

The Captain surfaced a few metres from him and looked around, surprised as he was. Taylor began laughing at the ridiculousness of the situation, and Jones could not help but join in, both realising how lucky they were to be alive.

"What are the odds?" asked Taylor.

"Luck just seems to follow you, you crazy bastard!"

They were clambering out of the pool when Silva rushed in through a side door with Acosta close beside him. They looked up at the huge hole in the ceiling and then at the pool. They were speechless.

"What, never seen a wet marine?" Taylor laughed.

Silva at least managed a smile as they rushed out onto the street and found a few dozen of their unit dug in.

"What's our situation?"

As Taylor said it, a column of drones flew into the street. Everyone in sight opened fire. Their targets were at least easier to track when they had little room to manoeuvre in the narrow gaps between buildings.

"Fuckers," muttered Taylor. He raised his rifle and fired a burst into one of the drones until it crashed through a window of a nearby building. As the rest carried on taking the targets down, he turned to Silva.

"We're scattered across town," replied Silva.

"Any sign of the local forces?"

"There's fighting to the east, certainly. I'd say they're cut off, or they'd be running this way right about now."

"All units advance east, sweep and clear!" he called down the comm.

Taylor led the way and took a bend to a quiet street that seemed untouched by the fighting. He crossed on over to a narrow alley which led on to the parallel street. There he found a dozen French soldiers retreating towards them. They initially raised their weapons to fire but recognised them as friendly. Taylor grabbed one who had Corporal’s stripes.

"What's the situation up there?"

"Lost," the man replied faintly.

Taylor could see the hopeless expression in his eyes. They were covered in dirt, and he had blood on him that clearly wasn't his.

"You still got people fighting out there?"

The Corporal nodded. Taylor wiped away grime on his uniform and saw a name tag that read Roux.

"Then what are you doing running this way, Corporal Roux? Your comrades need you."

"We can't stop them. We can't fight them. It's over."

"It's not over. You know why?"

The man shook his head.

"Because I am Colonel Mitch Taylor of the Immortals, and I say it ain't over, you got me?"

The Corporal’s eyes flared up a little on hearing the name. He saw the nametag and rank on Taylor, which confirmed it.

"You're here? Here to fight with us?" he asked, perking up.

"That's right. I always was, and I always will be. Now you got some boys who need some help out there, and we're gonna give it to them together, aren't we?"

He turned back to the others with him. "You heard him. We've got the Immortals with us. Nothing can stop us now."

"Then lead on!" Taylor ordered.

He carried on at the front with the Corporal, whose platoon was now mixed with the ragtag group of Inter-Allied Taylor had landed with. It was far from the 'cavalry coming to the rescue' scenario he had been expecting, but the only move was to continue onwards. The gunfire was getting louder, and he knew they were in the right place. Explosions ignited as big guns pounded the area. He wondered where the air support was. As he did, he heard an explosion above and saw a fighter burst into flames; a surface-to-air device knocked it out of the sky.

Ground warfare. It has come down to this once again.

Taylor never liked his time in space, but he at least appreciated the fact that any fighting they did up there was kept away from Earth soil. He longed for that once again. They passed across another street and heard a loud voice.

"Hold it right there!"

They couldn't tell where it had come from and immediately went to ground.

"Identify yourselves!"

"Colonel Taylor, Inter-Allied!"

"Yeah right, who are you really?"

Taylor lowered his weapon and got up."

"What are you doing?" Silva shouted.

He ignored the Sergeant Major and strode forward as if without a concern in the world.

"I am Colonel Taylor, and I am here to save your asses!" he responded defiantly.

Suddenly a head popped up from between the debris of a building, and two soldiers stepped out.

"No, can't be."

"What, you thought we were just a myth?"

Before they could answer him a shell landed on the building above.

"Cover!"

They went to ground as chunks of concrete landed all around. He got up and spat out the concrete dust he had become so familiar with in urban combat.

"Yes, it's me. I'm here. Now what can we do to help?"

He could not see rank on either of the French soldiers, and they looked utterly baffled to be asked such a thing by an officer.

"We are rear guard to Captain Anders. She's dug in two blocks ahead. They're giving us hell, Sir. I don't know how long we can hold."

"Don't you worry; you stay put, and if you see any more of our unit, you send them my way, okay? We got scattered on the drop."

"Yes, Sir."

They carried on past the two soldiers who still looked just as baffled as when they first arrived.

"Think it's wise throwing your name about so much?" asked Jones.

"Why?"

"You're a big target."

"That ain't gonna change, and I’m not hiding from any bastard who wants to kill me."

Jones respected that and did not push the matter. They came through a clearing and found a line of buildings that had been gutted by artillery and were now being used for cover by a line of troops. They were clearly the frontline.

"Who's in charge here?" Taylor shouted.

A female officer beckoned for him to cross the road and join him.

"Captain Anders, I presume?"

"Yes, about time you got here. We need support, and we needed it hours ago. How many are you?"

She appeared to have no regard for his rank, and that tickled him a little.

"About three hundred."

"Three hundred? Christ, we need thousands not hundreds. We need an army!"

"Yeah, well, you got me. What's your situation?"

"Situation sucks. North is holding at the old defences and should do for some time, but the centre here is under increasing pressure, and half a klick to the south isn't going to hold for much longer."

"What are you facing?"

"Armour, infantry, Mechs. About the only thing we are safe from is the air because anything that comes across the city gets blown out the sky from one side or the other."

"And combat drones?"

"Yes, those too. We were hit by a wave just twenty minutes ago, but they peeled off west."

"That was our welcoming party."

"Then I am sorry, but we could do little to stop them."

"We're working on that."

"Well, I hope you work faster, or neither of us may live long enough to see the results."

They heard the noise of steps and turned to see dozens of Taylor's troops pour into the street.

Thank Christ for that,
he thought.

"We'll head a little south and bolster the defences there. I don't know if we're getting much more support if any, Captain, but we have to hold."

"Those are just words, Colonel. We'll give everything we can to hold here, but if it cannot be done, it cannot be done."

"Don't ever say that, Captain!" he shouted for all to hear. "When a fighter says something cannot be done, they only set themselves up to fail. It can be done, and will be done, you got that?"

She looked sheepish but responded loudly, "Yes, Sir!"

Taylor carried on running down the line of crippled buildings. Medics carried the wounded out between the rubble as they passed. It was all too familiar for Taylor. The scene along the lines was the same until they reached the point at which Anders had said was hit the worst. They passed a crater where the bodies of six soldiers lay, and nobody had been able to move as they dealt with the wounded. An ambulance lay crashed and burned in the side of a nearby building, and mechanical mules carried out some of the wounded.

"This ain't good," he muttered to himself. It was the understatement of the century, and Jones had heard it, too.

"Look at them. They can't stick this out for long," he replied.

"We need to take up the slack fast, or they'll falter."

He rushed in to the nearest hole looking out across the battlefield. From there he could see a line of Mechs advancing and firing as they did. He didn't voice a single command to his unit; they all knew what to do. He took careful aim and double tapped one of the Mechs through its faceplate. It died instantly, but three of its comrades quickly returned fire his way, forcing him to duck back down as the shots rushed through the gaping hole and struck the road behind him.

Taylor peered around the corner and could see the burning wrecks of enemy vehicles that had been taken out, and as many Mech bodies as there were humans they fought beside. Even as he admired the hard work their allies had done, a new column of armoured vehicles was arriving.

"Where are they getting all this armour?" Jones asked.

"Most of the stuff left over after the last war wasn't in France, was it?"

Jones sighed. "Well, that's just great!" he replied and fired a few more shots before ducking back.

"Any ideas on our losses from the drones?"

Jones shook his head. "Whatever they are, it could have been a lot worse."

Worse?

It was initially hard to fathom, but then he thought back to how many situations they had been through where the death around them had been a constant week after week.

"RATs! Deploy the RATs!"

The armoured column head across the ground, smashing their way through wrecks and having to drive over the bodies of many who had fallen. The guns fired on the move and pounded their positions as most of the defenders took cover. The first RAT launcher fired and bounced as its target turned and glanced the shot off its hull.

"Fuck, fuck, take them out!" yelled Taylor.

The second fired, and the same tank was blown apart. Cheers rang out across the line as a volley of the launchers fired and another four vehicles were knocked out, and the rest began to fall back.

"We held? We held!" Silva shouted.

It was a surprise to Taylor as well, and he got up to survey the scene. The enemy casualties were horrific, but he looked back to the obliterated street they had fought from, seeing just how few defenders remained. There were only a handful of casualties from Inter-Allied. They now had more in number than the Regiment initially deployed to defend the city. He looked around for his closest friends and found Parker attending to a casualty.

"That was good timing," stated Jones.