War For The World

CHAPTER ELEVEN

The young man turned to his friend
"Wheres the safest route out?! We can't follow down the essex channel they'll roast us. We've got to turn back!"

His friend stared at him for a second, before responding.
"We cant man. One way or another we're going down"

The young man shook his head. He couldn't dare to entertain such an idea.
"No way. We need action now. There's got be some way we get these men home! They're our friends! Im not fucking leaving them"

The friend nodded for a moment, pointing to one of the levers.
"Alright. If we reverse ourselves, we may be able to hurry out without them noticing. Turn us starboard"

The young man nodded. Finally, his friend was talking sense.
Turning back to the control she made a grab for the lever when a sudden burst of pain erupted from his right leg.
He fell onto the floor, white hot pain surging through his legs nerve endings. As he screamed out in pain, he turned around to find his friend gripping the crowbar tightly.

His friend stared at him, wind whipping both of their hair as one of the windows shattered.

"We've got one last chance at this man! Thunder Childs built for stuff like this. It's a torpedo ram! If we can hit the right spot, those fuckers will come down and we'll have saved the last of the civs. Im sorry Pops. I am. But we're all doomed. Thunder Childs got one last fight left in her"

As Thunder Child once more jolted against the ongoing pressure of the Martians, a parchment escaped from the pocket of the young man.
Stained and wet, the letter had been his beacon sticking with him through the majority of his stay and dating back all the way to his initial enlistment. Words of comfort from his pregnant girlfriend. Declarations of love and promises for the future. Intended to keep him afloat and remind him what he was fighting for.
When he'd initially proposed to her the idea around enlistment she'd been adamantly opposed to it, kicking up a fuss in that stubborn nature he secretly adored. There had been many debates and countless sleepless nights before he finally managed to convince her it was the right move for them. Recently they had begun to run low on money. The house was becoming rundown and the debts they had made were slowly coming back to haunt them in a big way. Now, with an unexpected baby on the way he had known that he would need to take responsibility for his family. Joining the navy had seemed like the reasonable response, as he would earn funds that would be sent back directly to his girl.

He'd been certain that no real danger would come of this. He'd parade round in uniform for a few months before returning home to meet his new baby.
For queen and country.

He wanted to stay. To live in this memory forever and never resurface. Though deep down, he knew he couldn't.
His friends boot now came into the young man's vision as it stepped on the letter, the result of trying to steady himself after the most recent jolt.
"Im sorry Pops. It's the only way"

The friend turned his focus towards the various controls and levers as pops surveyed the damage done to his leg.
He couldn't find any immediate bones jutting out which was a good start, though standing proved to be more difficult that originally anticipated. He noticed a large red welt beginning to spread across the back of his leg.

Through gritted teeth he stood, using a nearby handrail for support.
"You're mad! We've still got time!" he shouted.

The friend didn't turn from his position as self-appointed captain of the torpedo ram.

"We're dead already"

Pops charged at him, but his leg gave way halfway through and he ended up crashing into his friends torso.
Gripping on tight, the two of them went down. A loud thud could be heard as his friend smashed his head first against the controls and then onto the hard metal floor.