Chapter 2
“Fire! Keep firing!” shouted Kelly.
The line of twenty Moon Defence Force soldiers were huddled behind a make shift barrier defence, desperately struggling to hold the enemy back. They had succeeded in hampering the enemy’s efforts on the colony but had yet to reclaim any ground. Martinez leapt up beside him and fired his launcher, hitting a Mech square on and shattering it into a twisted wreck.
“We must fall back, Sir!” Martinez shouted to him.
“No! We must keep fighting!”
The Commander leapt up and fired quickly with well aimed fire. He knew that the fight was lost, but it pained him to have once more pushed for ground above the surface and to have failed again. He ducked behind cover and dipped his head, disillusioned with their fight for survival. Martinez looked down at their leader, knowing that he had to act.
“All units fall back! Fall back!” he ordered.
He grabbed the Commander by the shoulder, hauling him to his feet and into a run. Energy pulses flew past their heads and blasted into the interior walls. The troops around them gave covering fire and quickly followed suit. It was another sore defeat for the Moon forces. They clambered down the hidden access tunnels leading underground, and all was quiet once more.
Kelly and Martinez headed up the column of soldiers as they strolled between the lines of civilians. Their faces were dirty and equally as grim. The Commander could not help but think that he was failing the people he was employed to protect. Kelly could barely make contact with the men and women he passed. A few patted him on the back, but it gave little relief.
They finally reached the command centre that had so recently been set up. Lewis sat at the improvised comms desk. He had scavenged more and more equipment over the last week. He spun around in his chair, and his smile quickly left his face as he could already tell the result of their fight. Kelly strode past him and slumped into his chair, throwing his rifle roughly onto the desk. The clatter of the heavy weapon made several nearby jump. They could see their leader was losing faith in the war.
The Commander took his helmet off and wiped his sweaty brow. The cuff of his jacket was dry and coarse from ingrained dirt and debris that they’d not the time, nor willpower, to clean out. As he placed his helmet down, he turned to see a boy of less than ten years old stood in front of him holding a steaming mug of coffee.
“Sir, this is for you.”
The boy handed the mug to him. Kelly could not help but smile at the gesture. It reminded him that all was not lost yet.
“Thank you, what’s your name?”
“Miguel,” the boy confidently replied.
“My son,” said Martinez. He strolled past and ruffled the boy’s hair.
Kelly took the mug and nodded in gratitude. He turned to Martinez.
“Assemble the command staff.”
“Sir?”
“Whatever we are doing, it isn’t working, so we need to re-think our operations.”
“Yes, Sir, I’ll get right on it.”
“Sir,” said Lewis, “we now have direct lines to most of the tunnels. I can put the word out for you.”
Kelly nodded for him to do so. A week without the communications equipment they had become so reliant on, plunged them into a dark age that they had quickly adapted to. The luxury of organisation from a central base had almost been forgotten by the Commander.
“Get them here ASAP, we have work to do.”
Charlie Jones still sat amid the rubble of the city they had fought so viciously to defend. He slowly ate from a food ration pack that was steaming from the integrated heating element. The food tasted better than most people would think, but he barely even noticed it. He was still stunned and deeply reflecting over recent events. He could hear footsteps getting nearer, but it didn’t concern him as he was surrounded by friendly troops.
“Captain Jones.”
He looked up to see Captain Friday.
“What can I do for you, Captain?”
“You have been ordered back to command.”
“Just me?”
“Your whole unit, Jones.”
“What happened to the Inter-Allied Company?”
“You’re asking the wrong man. Major Chandra is awaiting you there for further orders.”
Jones’ eyes lit up. With all their losses in the previous week, they wanted nothing more than to get some familiar faces back.
“The orders were quite clear, Captain. They want you there immediately.”
Jones got to his feet with a weary sigh. His knees were sore from their patrol, and his body felt more exhausted by the day.
“Any word from the Major?”
“That’s a negative. Taylor is still scouting the northern sectors.”
Jones nodded, and he knew they could be of no more service there. He picked up his rifle and turned to face his troops who were scattered around the rubble. He no longer knew what to call the remnants of his troop. They had been 2 ^ nd Battalion, then 2 ^ nd Inter-Allied. They had amalgamated the surviving sections so many times that he simply had no idea what to call them anymore.
“2 Para! On me!”
The Brits got up with a startled expression. They had barely gotten any recuperation time and had gotten well settled into working with Taylor’s marines. A few groans rang out, but nobody questioned the orders. The battle weary group got to their feet and followed the Captain back behind the front lines to the nearest motor pool. The remnants of their unit were now able to squeeze aboard a single truck, and it was a sore reminder of their losses.
“Sir? What’s the deal here?” asked Green.
Jones shook his head, not knowing or particularly caring.
Rain beat down all around the vehicle. Taylor was mostly shielding from the ferocious downpour, but it was starting to run like a river through the street. He had not seen rain like it in years, and the drains were already spilling over. The Major was alerted to movement in the vehicle. He lifted his upper body slightly to investigate. His Sergeant was rousing with a drowsy and slurred cry of pain.
“Silva, Sergeant,” he said.
Taylor’s legs were still trapped beneath the vehicle, and he only wished they were still strong enough to carry him. Silva didn’t answer at first. He was dazed and subdued. He was facing away from the Major, but Taylor could still make out the blood around the man’s collar.
“Sergeant Silva.”
Mitch wanted to shout, but he would not risk drawing any attention to them. He repeated himself, hoping that he could get through. The Sergeant quickly turned his head looking for the origin of Taylor’s voice. He turned fully and caught sight of the Major. A broad smile widened across his face. Much of the blood had congealed, but it still trickled between his teeth and out of his mouth.
“Thought we were goners, Sir.”
“Not yet, Sergeant.”
“Anyone else make it?”
Taylor shook his head. Silva’s smile quickly vanished.
