Kelly could see Reynolds take offence at the statement, but he held up his hand to stop him from speaking any further.
"Years of fighting, our colony is old news," Kelly whispered to him.
He looked back to the group and tried to identify a rank, although most were wearing overcoats and tankers jackets with nothing on them at all. Others wore civilian garments. It was no surprise; the cold was certainly setting in.
"We didn't come here for your charity," stated Kelly, "We were fighting these aliens before any of you ever saw one or had a name for them. We know what it’s like to be abandoned, and we know what it's like to lose your home. So don't give me that sullen, miserable silent treatment because I've seen it all before. Been there myself, and I didn't like it the first time. We came here to fight, and we will. So who the hell is in charge here?"
One of the men finally looked at them and spoke up.
"Right now, I am. The Colonel is wounded and undergoing treatment. Maybe he will make it. I do not know."
"And you are?"
"Lukas Becker."
Kelly squinted. He recognised the name and then looked a little closer at the man. He had never met him, but he remembered the description well.
"Captain Becker?"
The man nodded in surprise.
"Colonel Taylor sure told me a few things about you and how you fought together."
Becker suddenly jumped to his feet and extended his hand out in friendship.
"You knew Taylor? How?"
"Know him, still."
"Then he is with you?"
Becker looked around in excitement, as if he expected to see Mitch in one of the vehicles.
"No, but last I saw him he was leading the exodus off world. I have every faith in the fact he still lives. We know the fleet made it."
Becker shook his head.
"I hope he made it. I really do. But I'd still rather he was down here with us. No matter what we went through, when Taylor was with us, we always made it okay."
He took a seat back down beside his comrades.
"So you want to fight?"
"We do. It's all we have left to do in this world," replied Kelly.
"As acting commander of this...whatever we have here...outfit, I will accept any soldier who is willing to join the fight. But just remember, this is not a refugee camp. Everyone contributes to the fight, somehow or other."
"There are no civilians anymore, Captain. You're a fighter or you're a dead man."
Becker nodded in agreement.
"Then let me show you inside."
* * *
Taylor ran as if his life depended on it. He knew he could probably survive through what the Mechs were attempting, but he was not willing to condemn thousands to die.
"Slow down!" Parker shouted, "You'll get us killed!"
He did not respond. He knew if he kept going they would all follow suit, whether they liked it or not. Moye got ahead of Parker and was gaining on Taylor who looked back in surprise.
"Don't let this be for nothing!" he yelled.
Clearly Taylor's words had gotten through to him.
Taylor said nothing but rushed on. Jafar had pointed the direction, and he’d simply gone until he heard otherwise. As he took a bend, he crashed into several others and was brought to a standstill. He raised his Assegai in shock but was delighted to see he had run into King.
“Colonel? You’re alive?”
Taylor looked surprised by the fact, but he had no time to enquire.
“Follow me!” He carried on, and King rushed along at his side.
“Where are we going so quickly?” the Ranger asked, “These corridors are death to those who do not show caution!” he added, still carrying on at Taylor’s pace.
“We have bigger problems, right now.”
They ran like the wind. As they got close to the engine bays, they heard just a few shots, less than they would have expected. The corridor opened out to the engine bays where they found one of their own dead and five Mechs around him. They then passed a number of consoles and terminals and several more bodies of the enemy until finally Taylor stopped in his tracks. Morris was standing over the last Mech there and drove his Assegai down through its faceplate, deep into its body, to the cheers of his men around him.
Taylor had wanted to trust in the former MDF man but worried he would never be up to the standard.
Marines, paras, and rangers, and here a militiaman has done us all proud, he thought, and it brought a smile to his face.
“You did it, Captain!” Taylor said.
Morris turned, surprised to see them looking upon him.
“Is the room secure, are the engines safe?”
“They are, Sir.”
Taylor sighed in relief. It was a strange feeling to not be the one coming to the rescue, and yet he welcomed it. It was nice to have someone else he could depend on. Morris seemed to revel in the bloodshed, but not in a bloodthirsty manner. He celebrated their triumph and success. He was a very different man to Jones, and yet, had already proven more than he first seemed.
“What are your orders, Sir?” King asked.
Taylor looked around at his own people. Fifty of them stood there. He prayed more had survived than that, but he was starting to understand King’s fearsome expression and terror when they had met.
How many have we lost? He could not bear to ask and risk breaking the morale they had.
“Morris, you and your platoon are to stay put and protect this area until I say otherwise. Moye you head back to the bridge and secure it. The rest of us, it’s time to sweep and clear. There are still Mech sons of bitches aboard this ship. Not one of you shall rest until they lay bleeding out before you. The battle is over. Now we are the hunters. Split into ten-man squads, and NCOs take charge. Hunt those bastards down!”
The room quickly emptied, and as he paced out the way he came in, he realised he was left with only the five he had before.
“You ready for some payback?” he asked the three Privates.
“Yes, Sir!” one of them replied with conviction.
Taylor leapt forward and led the way. He had no idea where he was going, but it didn’t matter. He was going wherever he could find an enemy alive, and that was all that mattered. He reached one of the main living quarters. Bodies were strewn about the place, and blood splattered across the walls and frameworks of the beds.
The accommodation reminded him of their new quarters aboard the Washington, but the lines and columns expanded as far as the eye could see. It seemed that thousands of people had lived in this one vast billet room alone, and about three-dozen bodies lay on the floor ahead.
"Poor bastards," said Parker.
"Yeah, but that ain't many. Not nearly as many as I might have expected."
"They must have run when the Mechs came."
"No, they'd have bottlenecked at the exits and been cut down. They must have been elsewhere or scattered throughout the ship."
"We can hope."
Taylor went forward and stepped between the bodies. He could see Mech footprints left in the blood, so at least knew he was going the right way.
"How many more of them do you think are on the ship?"
"Can't be more than a few dozen now, I shouldn't think, Parker."
"It's a big ship to cover with what, a couple of hundred marines at most."
"Yeah. We've done the hard work. It’s time we got some help to mop up."
He reached an exit and took a turn back towards the landing bay they had first arrived at. Just at that moment, he saw a Juggernaut racing at him like a raging bull. Before he could react, he was tugged out of the way, and it stormed past unable to stop itself. Taylor looked behind. Jafar had been the one who saved him from being flattened.