Taylor was starting agree.
"They think this world is the paradise their race has been searching for thousands of years. If they could, they'd be here right now."
Taylor looked around and could see the dire faces of those sitting around the bar. Gone was the enthusiasm for the cold drinks they were still holding. It was replaced by a grim tone that made them all feel helpless. He knew he had to snap out of it before it destroyed the unit.
"Private," he said to Acosta.
"Yes, Sir."
"Why did you join the Corps?"
He hesitated for a moment; he had expected an order and not a question.
"Sir...I...I..."
"No pressure, just your gut feelings."
The others all turned their attention to the Private and were genuinely interested to hear his answer. Taylor was pleased he had successfully moved on from the dire situation of the World and for them to forget it for a moment.
"I lived my whole life in a town of just a couple of hundred people, Sir. Never went more than I guess about fifty klicks from my home. Then one day a Sergeant came through town with a few veterans and told me what the Marine Corps could offer me."
"And you believed him?" laughed Silva.
"The Corps has been good to me. Seen things I ain't ever expected to see ever, some bad, some good, but all new."
"You're a simple son of a bitch," said Silva.
The others laughed.
"You regret any of it?" asked Jones.
"How could I? When I missed the last war, I thought I'd missed out on the biggest thing ever happened in this world. Thought if I signed up, then maybe I might be around and not miss whatever happened next."
It was an interesting perspective and got Taylor thinking.
"Not a bad explanation," he admitted.
"Sir, and you, if you don't mind me asking. Why did you sign up?" asked Acosta.
He had to think about it for a moment.
"I honestly can't remember anymore. I can't recall ever wanting to do anything else."
"Maybe we were just born for the Corps?"
Taylor smiled. "Sounds like you should get that on a shirt, Private."
"I think I might when we get home, Sir. Think I could make some money selling 'em?"
Taylor liked the fact he knew they would be getting home; he didn't just hope for it. He wasn't sure if that was due to youthful hopefulness or confidence, but it didn't matter. Taylor was feeling better about things already. While he had his comrades at his side, they had a chance at accomplishing anything.
"We're in the middle of a war, and yet nobody knows where we are...in the wind," Jones mused.
Taylor looked around the little bar that appeared to be a long running family business. Pictures of several generations adorned the walls. He'd got comfortable now and had no desire to move. It had been a long day with an early start.
"We'll stay here the night."
"Is that wise?"
"Charlie, I figure whoever is after us will expect us to move by night. Their troops will have limited movement once the sun is down, and that'll mean we really stand out. In the day, we just look like everyone else, pretty much."
"Apart from that," Jones said, pointing to the stars and stripes patch on Taylor's arm.
He'd worn it for so many years he had forgotten it was even there. He reached around and pulled it from his sleeve and looked at the faded colours. He'd never been without it on his uniform, and it was a strange feeling he didn't appreciate. The others looked shocked, watching him stare at the patch until finally he looked up at them.
"Same for the rest of you. Get your colours off."
They reluctantly did so.
"You know without these on we could be considered spies rather than soldiers?" asked Silva.
"I think that's the least of our problems right now, don't you think?"
Taylor slipped the flag patch into a pocket out of sight and tried to act as if it didn't bother him. It occurred to him that he wasn't even acting in the service of the United States anymore, but that wasn't enough to make him take it off.
"You really think we can pass ourselves off as UEN troops?"
"Why not, Charlie? There’s God knows how many nationalities involved in this."
"And if we're called up on it, who are we supposed to be?" asked Silva.
"I dunno, say you're Dutch or something. I always hear how much they sound like us when they speak English."
"Maybe to a dullard," replied Jones.
"Maybe we'll get lucky."
Taylor got up and strolled over to Silva, slumping down in one of the sofas beside him. He dared not take his armour off should they be discovered, but it was still comfortable enough he could sleep there.
"So we really staying put?" asked Silva.
Taylor nodded and began to doze off.
"Rotate watches with two on," he muttered, but he couldn't keep his eyes open any longer and was out for count.
"Sure it's a good idea staying here?" Herrera asked Silva.
"None of the options we have got are ideal, but one thing's for sure, we couldn't continue on in the state we are in. We hit things fresh tomorrow, and we'll get out of here."
"But we failed here, didn't we? Even if we do get out, it was all for nothing," said Herrera.
"The Colonel took a fair gamble which had to be taken. There are no certainties in war."
The Corporal turned to Jones who was still slowly enjoying his solitary beer and making it last.
"What do you think, Captain?"
"Jones suddenly looked up at him. His mind had been elsewhere."
"Think of what?"
"This war, how we weren't able to stop it."
"I think it's bad news, but there is absolutely no benefit in crying over what we cannot change."
"I don't believe that," said Herrera. "I've never seen the Colonel meet a challenge he couldn't overcome."
"That's a lot of faith to be putting in one man. More of a burden than I'd want to shoulder."
"But he always comes through for us, and so do you."
Jones didn't know what to say.
"And this is why the UEN wants the Colonel out of this war so badly. He's a massive boon for whoever has him. He inspires men and women to victories they never dreamed of accomplishing," said Silva.
Rains laughed. "Oh, come on, he's not a god. How about all the times I've saved your asses?"
"Agreed, we've all done a lot of good," said Silva. "But it is Taylor who’s kept us together. He is an asset the Regiment cannot afford to lose, that the EA cannot afford to lose, and that we cannot afford to lose. The United States already has, and look how hard it's trying to get him back, and they ain't even in this war."
"Yet," stated Jones, "there’s only so long anyone can stay out of this."
"You really think they'll come in on it?" asked Herrera.
"Definitely, once they know which way the wind is blowing."
"You're not suggested they'd just pick the winning side?"
Rains laughed again. "Oh, come on, man."
Jones nodded in agreement as well.
"Then I guess we just gotta give the right impression," said Herrera.
The UEN has used Mechs in their armies, and that's the first point in our favour. Another few decisions like that, and the work is done for us."
"And what then, we just blow the shit out of each other till one side is still standing?" asked Acosta.
"That's about the sum of it," replied Jones. "And then that Erdogan, or whatever his name is, will come at the survivors with all he's got. That's what I would do."
Six hours later Taylor awoke to an eerily quiet room. He got up to look at his watch and was amazed to see he'd been out for so long. It was dark outside, but the streetlights were still on. He looked over to the door to see Rains sat on guard and alert. Acosta was across the room, his rifle laying across his legs as he sat on a tabletop.
Mitch got up, and despite his bo
dy feeling stiff, he felt fresh and good. He stepped over to Rains, pulled up a chair, and sat opposite him.
"You let me sleep a long time."
"You needed it."
"I'm sorry I got you into this again. Seems half the time you get involved with us anymore, you end up with a rifle in hand."
"Was getting pretty attached to that bird too. Called her Agathe."
Taylor laughed. "Agathe? Not exactly smooth."
"Hey, named her after a lovely French girl I met a few weeks back."
Taylor held up his hands. "I take it back, and I hope that Agathe lasts a little better."
"So if we get back to our lines..."
"When, not if," Taylor interrupted.
"All right, when. What will you do then?"
"Go back to the frontline I guess. Wherever we're ordered to go."
"It'll be a waste."
Taylor waited for him to elaborate.
"Inter-Allied is something special. You can achieve things no other unit could hope to. You should be saved for more important tasks."
"What, like Special Forces, what do you think we are?"
"Look at what you have achieved. Just stop and look back at all the things you have done in the last what, six years. You are no ordinary marine, and this is no ordinary unit. Inter-Allied is something special. It always was."
"Well, thanks, but you better include yourself in that. You are one of us now, ‘cos you sure ain't French Air Force."
"Hell, no!"
The night passed without incident and at 0600 hours in the early morning, as things were just beginning to warm up, Jones stepped out of the front door to take in the fresh morning air. Taylor moved to join him.
"So what now?"
"We need to blend in. Head back north to the main road, disguise ourselves among the troops there, and make our way to the frontline."
"Risky business."
Taylor nodded in agreement. Now he was recovered, and able to reflect on the day before, his mind wandered to the scene when Jones had saved them and taken out the gunship.
"Yesterday, when you saved our asses," stated Taylor.
"What of it?"
"Well, a few things. One, it was batshit crazy what you did."
"Which bit?" asked Jones, seeming to pass it off as nothing unusual.
"All of it. For one thing, you didn't hesitate to shoot those MPs. Humans who aren't even in this war, Americans."
"I didn't enjoy it, if that's what you're asking."
"No, no. That's not what I meant."
Taylor went silent, trying to find a way not to offend his friend, but Jones continued on for him anyway.
"Those MPs stood in the way of your freedom, our freedom. We gave everything for this world to remain free, what are two lives to add to the toll?"
"Well I agree...in principle. I was just surprised to see you take them down like that, without concern or anything."
"I had concern, but for us. We cannot stop to care or consider the dangers to those who oppose us and put our lives in danger. Those days are long gone. They ended the first day the Krys set foot on Earth. It's a harsher world now than it has been in hundreds of years. I tried to pretend it wasn't and turned my back on it all. But it is a fighter’s world. Those who fight to survive and win have a chance, and those who do not, don't."
Taylor agreed but was surprised to hear the grim analysis of their world from Jones. For a man who had been so compassionate over the years, he now seemed to be utterly black and white.
"You know whether it was right or wrong, there'll be a price to pay for it one day?"
"Maybe, if we ever make it through any of this. Let's worry about winning this war before we worry about a few red caps getting hurt. We bled enough in these wars. About time they had a few licks themselves."
Taylor smiled. He had hated the MPs his entire life, and it always amused him to hear someone else ripping into them.
"And how about that gunship?" asked Taylor. "That was hard-core."
"I learnt it from you."
Taylor thought back and remembered doing something similar, but in space."
"All right, I'll give you that one."
Taylor looked back into the bar. They were all ready and waiting.
"Let's do this."
They headed on down the abandoned streets as if they were taking a walk in the park. Anything else would be suspicious so far back from the frontline. Finally, they came across the lamppost that had been demolished by the limo. It was the marker point for them reaching the main road. Up ahead they could see a line of trucks passing by.
"I don't like this," said Silva.
But they carried on walking as if there were no danger at all. As they stepped out to cross the road, a six-wheeled armoured vehicle rolled to a halt beside them. They froze.
Oh shit, Taylor thought.
To their surprise the driver's hatch opened, and the driver appeared before them and beckoned for them to jump on. He was shouting something Taylor didn't understand, though it sounded like German to him. Taylor couldn't believe their luck and knew they had to clamber on or risk appearing suspicious.
No soldier ever turns down a ride.
The six of them climbed aboard, and a moment later the vehicle had rejoined the convoy.
"Well what do you know? A free ride," said Silva with a smile.
Taylor was glad they were on top and didn't have to communicate with the crew, but he couldn't help but feel exposed. They were on full view to all they passed. They were on the road for close to an hour when the convoy came to a slow grind. Jones tapped Taylor's shoulder and subtly pointed to where they were heading. Mitch turned to see a line of US MPs up ahead and checking the occupants of each vehicle.
"Ah, fuck," he whispered.
"No way we'll make it past them. They know what we look like," said Silva.
Taylor looked around for possible options, but they were few. He gestured for them all to come in closer to hear what he had to say.
"We can't make it through there. We're gonna have to make a break for it. We can't be far away now. When I say, we jump and head west. As far as the troops here are concerned, we're the MPs’ problem until we start shooting, so nobody fires unless you absolutely have to."
It felt like a last desperate attempt to get free, as criminals always do from the police when under pursuit, and so rarely successful.
"Once we hit the ground, you run. All of you," ordered Taylor. "You run and run until you get across the border, and if we don't meet again, it was an honour."
Taylor looked back to the MPs. Two of them were already taking an interest in the group. He knew they were on borrowed time.
"Good luck to you all," he whispered. "Now!"
He jumped from the stopped vehicle and hit the ground running. He glanced quickly to one side. He could see the MPs frantically trying to get their rifles in hand, but the six of them were already down a side street before they could open fire. He looked around to see the group was still together and following him. They took a bend and kept up a sprint, despite none of them knowing how far they were from friendly lines.
"I feel like a kid again, running from the cops!"
"Yeah, but cops don't shoot kids. These ones surely shoot marines!" yelled Taylor.
It was motivation to keep up the pace, but as they took a bend up ahead, they saw they had run themselves into a dead end with a brick industrial building that stood twenty metres high. It had been a heavy goods vehicle access road that overtime had been blocked for whatever reason.
Taylor looked down at the display on his suit. His boosters had almost no power left at all. He ran and jumped, hoping for the best, but he barely got five metres off the ground before smashing into the wall and landing hard on the concrete below.
He was quickly back on his feet and looking for anyway out, but there was none. The others all looked to him for options, but there was only one left to them.
"Take up positions and prepar
e to fire!"
They went thirty metres back the way they’d come to the nearest cover of a few walls and large industrial trash cans.
"So this is what it has come to?" asked Jones. "Backed into a corner by MPs. How lame."
"We aren't finished yet. Do not fire unless fired upon!"
The MPs took the bend up ahead and came into full view, but Taylor and his comrades did not fire. Their opponents quickly found any cover they could until the alleyway went silent. It became a standoff.
"This is Major Martin. You are under arrest! You are ordered to lay down your weapons immediately!"
They recognised the voice. It was the same officer who had tried arresting them the day before, and Taylor knew he would not be very forgiving after the punishment Jones had dealt out.
"You have five seconds to lay down your weapons and come peacefully!"
"You know this guy is really getting boring," said Silva.
"It's only a few cops playing soldiers. We can take 'em," said Rains.
Just as he said it, they watched in horror as a Mech strode into view beside the MPs. It was followed by a dozen more.
"Oh, shit," said Eddie.
"They must really want you out of the picture," said Jones.
The Mechs lined up in the open ready to fire.
"This is your final warning!" screamed Martin. "Lay down your arms and no harm will come to you!"
Nobody said a word.
"You have five seconds! Five...four...three..."
Taylor prayed for a miracle, but it seemed pointless, considering he'd never believed in a god to begin with.
"Two...one! Fire!"
The Mechs and MPs fired simultaneously, peppering the entire area. Taylor put his rifle around the corner of one of the huge trashcans and fired a burst. Two of the shots hit a Mech, and it tumbled down dead. He tried to fire again, but his rifle was hit and wouldn't fire. He ducked fully back into cover and pulled the rifle up close. Two shots had hit the barrel and front receiver, rendering it useless. He threw it aside and drew his pistol.
A scream rang out. He turned to see gunshots penetrate a hole in the wall and hit Rains. A few were absorbed by his armour, but one passed through his upper arm and another the side of his neck. He dropped down to the floor, trying to cup his wounds. Before anyone could do anything, a grenade flew overhead and landed between Herrera and Acosta. They turned to move out the way, but the blast still caught them. Acosta was hurled against a wall and knocked unconscious while Herrera took shrapnel to the legs and hit the ground face first.
Battle Earth VIII (Book 8) Page 8