well as the militia, fight on. Kelly is organising regular missions to find supplies, but they face one big problem. Even when they can get those bastards alone, it’s still a hell of a fight to bring them down.”
“Yes, Sir, I can fully understand that.”
“I refuse to leave those poor bastards to die on that rock. Our forces will continue to amass ready for a major ground assault, but until that time, your new task is to get supplies to Kelly.”
“General White, we are facing worldwide disaster! We must look to our own defences!” shouted Smith.
“We will face our own battles in the days to come, but I will not and cannot leave our people to die up there!”
“Sir, I can fully appreciate the sentiment, but last time we were there we left with our tail between our legs. We can’t outrun or outgun their ships!”
“Not with our technology, Major, but with theirs we can.”
“Sir?”
“Our tech guys have been going over two enemy vessels which we have captured in lightly damaged condition.”
“What happened to their occupants?” asked Taylor.
“That is a subject for another time. From now on you will be liaising with the research and tech teams handling the alien vessels. You will also be organising the Moon supply drop. We cannot send troops up there, but food and weapons are the priority. I want you to find pilots that are both capable and crazy enough to fly such a mission, and ensure that the cargo contains weapons that will give them a fighting chance. Understood?”
“Yes, Sir.”
The Major’s grin stretched across his face. Leaving the Moon colonists was the most difficult decision of his life, but now he was being given a chance to redeem himself.
“I have assigned you my driver, Sergeant Gibbons. You can bring your company officers of NCOs in on this programme, but beyond that, this is between us, Major. Do what you have to do.”
“Yes, Sir!”
Taylor turned quickly and ran out of the room to be greeted by Gibbons who had obviously already been briefed on the situation.
“Sir, I am here to take you to the research facility.”
“Not quite yet, Sergeant, we have a few people to pick up!”
The two men jumped into their jeep and stormed away from the Command Centre, making their way for the Major’s barracks at speeds far beyond those allowed on base. Not a single marine dared confront their breach of base rules, not even the MPs. Major Taylor had always been an important officer on base, leading one of the most advanced and experienced companies in the United States Armies. But now he was not just important, but known. No one would stand in his way.
They reached the barracks and Taylor leapt off, telling the Sergeant to stay put. He rushed into his office to see that Captain Friday was already writing out the reports for the release and request of the hardware they had tested.
“Captain, bring that with you, we have a new task on our hands!”
Friday leapt from his chair and was out the door with his datapad in a split second. Taylor had always appreciated the fact that the Captain never questioned his orders and never dragged his heels. Suarez strolled across the parade square as they jumped into the vehicle.
“Lieutenant! You’re in charge until we return!” Taylor ordered.
The Major looked back to Captain Friday who was in the back of the Jeep
“Captain, we’re en route to oversee a special mission, I need you to contact Eddie Rains and tell him to meet us at…”
Taylor looked to the General’s driver who was at the wheel.
“Where are we headed, Sergeant?”
“Hangar 89.”
“Got it, Major.”
“And tell him to bring three capable pilots with him!” Taylor added.
It was half an hour before they arrived at the giant hangar that was situated a way out from the base and on the edge of a vehicle-testing zone. It was an isolated and desolate area with vast open plains surrounding it. The three men stopped their vehicle outside, the small jeep was dwarfed by the huge storage facility.
The hangar had little sign of activity, with just one small guardroom built onto the front. It appeared to be a sleepy old structure, forgotten and lost in time, in lieu of the modern structures they now operated from.
“I thought this place went inactive twenty years ago?” said Friday.
“I guess some things are just above our pay grade,” replied Taylor.
A vehicle approached from the direction they had come. The Major turned to see the familiar sight of Eddie Rains’ faded red bandana wrapped around his head as he sat up on the back of the vehicle. Dust kicked up all around them and into their eyes as the vehicle slid to a halt and the pilots leapt out. Ever the gung ho rule breakers, it was if they simply rebelled as a matter of tradition.
“You got a job for us, Major?” Rains called.
“That’s right, Eddie, it’ll be wild, dangerous, and you’d be an idiot to accept it!”
The Lieutenant turned to his friends with a smile.
“You called the right men, Major!”
Two men appeared from the guard station and they were well equipped. Far from the old and out of shape old soldiers that were employed to guard most storage depots, they were young and fit. They wore full battle attire and didn’t lack an ounce of professionalism.
“Welcome to Hangar 89, gentlemen, home to every secret project and finding since this base opened.”
“You’re not just the General’s driver are you, Sergeant?”
“No, Sir, I am his liaison to this facility and advisor on all matters involving it.”
“A lot of responsibility for a Sergeant.”
“I retired a Major, Sir, then worked for the CIA. I was posted to him with the rank of Sergeant and as the General’s driver as to maintain anonymity in my work.”
The security guards looked at them from a distance, studying every element of the men who stood before them. They’d already been given clearance for the facility, and the guards never moved closer than ten metres. A large door opened in the front of the hangar that was large enough for a truck to drive through, but still tiny in comparison to the vast bay doors.
“The hangar is close to half a kilometre long, with three underground levels and two above ground. What is of interest to us today, Major, are the captured enemy vessels.”
“What condition are they in?”
“They aren’t flight worthy if that’s what you’re asking, but there’s plenty of interesting material to salvage from them.”
Gibbons led them through the huge entrance and a temporary corridor existing only to hide whatever the building housed from the outside world. It took a few moments for their eyes to adjust from the striking light of the day to the artificially lit warehouse. Before them were the two craft as the General had said, evidently the latest acquisitions in the hangar. The room stretched as far as they could see with at least a hundred staff members in sight.
“These two craft were captured soon after the Moon base fell. Our intelligence suggests that they were advance patrol ships. One was hit by our fighters and crash landed in the desert, the other was struck by one of our destroyer’s EMP pulse defences when it entered its grid zone.”
“Man, I’d love to take one out for a spin,” said Rains.
“Well that’s not far from the reality of the situation, Lieutenant. The plan is to retrofit the alien engine tech to something you lot can fly. We need something fast enough to outrun whatever they’ve got so that you lot can get to the Moon and back.”
“There are survivors, Sir?”
“That’s right, Rains, lots of them. We need to deliver food and weapons to the survivors who are still putting up a fight there.”
One of the other pilots jumped into the conversation before the Major could continue.
