“Yeah? Maybe if we didn’t have such a fight in us, Bolormaa wouldn’t be so interested?”
“Maybe, and maybe she’d have wiped us out if we hadn’t proven ourselves worthy.”
But his words were lost on Taylor as the Colonel continued to ponder his own premise for Bolormaa.
“What is it?”
Still nothing.
“Come on, you’re killing me here.”
“This has all happened before. Bolormaa has cut her way through the advanced civilisations of the universe, of which we were not one back then, and she just stopped. And yet nobody knows why? Irala never knew why, and the Krys records are too far gone to know for sure.”
“What are you getting at?”
“That maybe this is all a game to her. That she lays dormant awaiting a challenge before taking her turn.”
“She’s a pretty sick and twisted individual, no doubt, but that seems a little farfetched.”
“Yeah, what isn’t farfetched in this life? When I first joined the Corps we had barely made it into space, and look where we are today.”
“You were gone a long time.”
“Yes, and so has she. This has been my idea of hell, but what if this is what she lives for?”
“We’ve asked it before, but it just doesn’t make any sense.”
“Yeah, well plenty of things don’t make sense in this life.”
A light flashed on Jones’ arm console.
“Captain, please report for duty immediately.”
Taylor leapt up to follow him.
“They called for me. You aren’t even cleared for duty yet.”
“I’ll be the judge of that.”
Jones sighed, but he could see there would be no reasoning with him. Taylor merely threw his training weapon to the floor, wiped his brow with a towel, and followed on after the Captain.
“Good or bad news, do you think?” Jones asked.
“When do we ever get good news?”
Jones smiled at least. They soon strode onto the bridge of the station.
“What is his name again?” Taylor whispered as they looked in on the Admiral standing in the centre of the room.
“Admiral Nilsson,” replied Jones very quietly.
He looked embarrassed to have to tell Taylor, but Mitch was too busy studying the room and the crew to even notice. He barely recognised a single face, and he certainly couldn’t name one of them. The Admiral looked confident and indifferent to him, as though he was nothing to him.
“Captain, is your team ready?”
“Excuse me, Sir, but the Regiment is mine,” snapped Taylor.
Nilsson looked him up from head to toe as if studying him, but he looked aloof and distant.
“Not at present, it is not, Colonel. You may return when you are fit and cleared for duty.”
“That would be right now.”
“I am sorry, Colonel, but…”
Nilsson interrupted him with a raised, authoritative voice.
“No, Colonel. You are not fit for duty, and not cleared to be here. I must ask you to leave.”
He did not respond, and Nilsson nodded to a security guard at the door who advanced towards Taylor. The man placed a hand on his shoulder, and he winced in pain from the wound before reacting with a quick back fist into his head. The man recoiled a few steps as he cupped his nose, and blood streamed down his face. The other security guard couldn’t even move as he watched in horror.
“Colonel, you are not yet fit for duty. You have no business being here, nor any justification in striking a member of this crew!”
He seemed calm and calculating, and yet Taylor glared at him. He drew out a knife and cut the support from his arm and flexed it out. He tried to hide the pain but didn’t completely manage it.
“I said I am fit for duty, and you know you need me.”
“The Alliance needs you healed and back in peak physical condition, and that will not happen while you insist on this ridiculous course of action. Captain, please speak with your Colonel,” he added, turning to Jones.
Jones knew better than to get involved, and Taylor still glared at the Admiral as if expecting a different response.
“Colonel, I am not your enemy, and neither is anyone here. But I also know your record, and you should know that I will not be intimidated. You and I are going to be allies, even if you can’t see that right now. I need you to go back and heal up, Colonel. The Captain and I have work to do.”
Taylor had no idea how to respond. He expected aggression and knew how to deal with that. But there was no aggression here, only a calculated calmness. He was furious and could feel his fists clench at his side. He wanted to vent his anger, but nobody was stepping up. He turned his attention to Jones to look for some support, but he found completely the opposite.
“The Admiral is right. You need rest, and we all need you to get it.”
It was the last thing Taylor had expected to hear. He felt betrayed, and it was all over his face, but without the support of his closest friends, he couldn’t go forward. Jones felt awful as he watched Taylor’s shoulder slump, and he staggered away with the slow, meaningless shuffle of a man who had nowhere to be, and nothing to do. He wandered on through the vast station as if looking for some inspiration. Many greeted him along the way. He was a hero to most of them, but he had no care for it, especially now. He was revered for his skill as a warrior, and that one thing had just been taken from him.
It wasn’t long before he found himself at the last place he could think to go, the bar, to drown his sorrows. He slumped down on a stool and pointed to a bottle behind the bar. The barman obliged and began to pour.
“Leave it,” he added.
The man hesitated for just a second, but then thought better of it, knowing whom he was dealing with. He knocked back the glass and followed it with several more in quick succession, dipping his head in despair. He didn’t have a thing to do in life now. He couldn’t fight. He couldn’t work to find Alita. All he could do was wait to heal. Wait until he was strong enough that Bolormaa would come back and finally finish the job.
“Sucks, doesn’t it?” a woman asked.
He looked up to see Sommer standing beside him.
“It sure does.”
“We are with you. We all are, and none more so than the Captain, you know that, right?”
Taylor grunted. Of course he knew it deep down, but it didn’t help him feel any better.
“You’ll be right back with us just as soon as you’re healed up. Nothing ever keeps you down for long.”
Taylor appreciated her words, but they didn’t help much.
“You miss her, don’t you?”
That got Taylor’s attention as he poured another glass and turned to face her.
“Of course I do, more than anything. There are some things that keep us going in this life. Things that keep us truly human, and everything that entails. I was never meant for this life, but it was Alita who changed that. She made this time and this life truly mine.”
“And the rest of us?” she asked with a smile.
Taylor finally relaxed a little and at least managed a smirk.
“You’re all right.”
“We have a new mission, but I guess you already knew that.”
“I figured. The Admiral wouldn’t have called Jones up to make polite conversation.”
He laughed at his own sentiment.
“Especially this one. Nilsson, what a cold bastard.”
“He’s good, though, or so they say.”
“Yep, he probably is. Devoid of emotion, and able to work like a machine. Maybe he is right for the job, but he’s not someone you’d ever call a friend, is he?”
She shrugged. “I wouldn’t know.”
He threw back another drink. They didn’t seem to be having much of an effect, but that was just his mind playing tricks on him. He went quiet as he slipped deep into thought.
“Tell me, Lieutenant,” he finally muttered, “Wher
e do you see all this going in a year, or five years? Where do you think we will all be?”
“If you’re asking if I think we’ll be dead and buried, I don’t like to think about it. There is no point dwelling on death. I’ll worry about it when it happens.”
Taylor laughed out loud.
“Well, hell, that’s the best thing I have heard all day.”
“I’m serious,” she protested.
“No, no, I have no doubt that you are,” he replied as he continued to laugh, “So I guess you don’t believe in any God of afterlife?”
“Not my problem. I’ll be the judge of them, when and if I ever do meet them.”
“You’ll be the judge? I don’t think that’s quite the way it’s supposed to work.”
“Yeah? Well, they have a lot to answer for if they really sat out of all this while good men and women fought and died. I am not worrying about meeting their standards, but they will have to answer to me.”
“You are a feisty one.”
“I am what you made of me, Sir. You are the reason I am still alive today. You are the reason I have been able to help others and reach the potential that I had never imagined.”
“You don’t need to kiss my ass that much. I’ve not brought you anything but pain and suffering,” he said solemnly.
“Pain and suffering was coming either way. Bolormaa made sure of that, but you gave me the ability to have a fighting chance.”
“You think that’s what we have against Bolormaa, a fighting chance?”
“Yes, I do. I believe in you, and in this Alliance, and that she is pure evil. We have to believe that good can triumph over evil.”
“I thought you didn’t believe in all that stuff?”
“Right and wrong? It doesn’t take much of a soul to believe in that.”
He knocked back yet another drink.
“Nice pep talk.”
She shook her head, realising she hadn’t really got through to him like she had hoped to do. She stood up to walk away.
“Good luck out there, and stay safe,” added Taylor.
She stopped and smiled as she gave a casual salute and finally left. He’d have been much happier if Jones had come and said such words, but he certainly appreciated her efforts. He knocked back another glass and kept going.
***
Taylor groaned and woke up. He was in a groggy state and lying on his own bed in his quarters, but he didn’t remember getting there. He had a splitting headache and was horribly dehydrated.
“You hit it a little hard, don’t you think?”
Taylor sprung up as if expecting a fight, but was Jones sitting in the only chair in the room.
“What the hell are you doing here?”
Taylor sat up more comfortably. He moved slower now, as the sudden movement had only compounded his pains.
“You didn’t really think the Alliance was going to leave you on the sidelines, did you?”
“They seemed pretty adamant about that, and so did you,” he grunted.
“Well, don’t believe everything you hear. Get yourself changed, and don’t take too long about it.”
Jones stood up and headed for the door.
“Are you for real?”
“Meet me outside when you’re ready,” Jones replied, smiling as he left.
Taylor sat there shaking his head.
Was it all for nothing?
He now wished he hadn’t hit the bottle so hard, and as he stood up, he regretted it even more. He was nauseous and barely awake. He staggered into the shower and seemed to take an age to get dressed as he swayed back and forth. He was curious and eager to know what Jones had in store for him, but his body wasn’t on the same page. He peered down at the holstered pistol and belt beside his bed. He rarely went anywhere without it, but as he continued swaying from one side to the other he didn’t have the energy to put it on, nor the care to do so. He staggered out of his quarters. Jones was awaiting him.
“You’re going to pay a dear price for a night like that.”
“There wouldn’t have been any need, had I known I still have a job.”
“Shhh. As far as the world is concerned, you are the recovering cripple that you look like.”
“Thanks,” he replied sarcastically.
He followed Jones for what felt like an age.
“Come on, is this all really necessary? What is so goddamn important that you couldn’t have just told me yesterday, rather than sending me packing?”
Jones looked uneasy as they passed a few crewmembers.
“Just a warm welcome to try and get you through hard times.”
“What?”
He could tell Jones was lying, but he didn’t dig any further. They arrived at a door that required secure access codes, and Jones put them in. They stepped inside to find another door, but this time guarded by two armed guards. They weren’t marines attached to the station, nor their own people.
“What is this?”
“Hold on a second,” replied Jones.
“You know I don’t like surprises? They usually suck and hurt like hell.”
The two guards simultaneously punched in access codes to pads on either side of the wall. The doors swung open to reveal a gymnasium and a few people training.
“Not more recruits? Not more of this,” complained Taylor.
Then he looked again. Admiral Nilsson was overseeing whatever was going on.
“Welcome, Colonel!” he yelled.
Taylor staggered in with a blank expression on his face. He thought he had made an enemy of the Admiral, and he didn’t expect to see the man for some time.
“Sorry for the deception, Colonel, but we needed you to play along, and you did so exactly as we had hoped. A broken arm was an unfortunate result for one of our crew, but a price well worth paying to sell this story.”
Taylor paced up closer for a better look at what the Admiral was observing. Two men grappling on the floor stopped as one tapped out, and they both stood up to greet him. He stopped dead as he quite literally saw the image of himself. One of the fighters was his spitting image, but not just in his face and body, but his hair, his scars, everything.
“What the fuck is this?” he finally asked, trying to wrap his head around what he was seeing. Taylor paced up to his doppelganger and circled him as he studied the man. He even had the recently opened wound on his nose, just as he had.
“He is you, or as far as the rest of the world is concerned, he will be,” replied Nilsson.
“It will be an honour to serve in your place, Sir,” replied the man.
“Wha…what…who even are you?”
“Sergeant Bradley, Sir, 10th Marine Regiment.”
Taylor looked horrified.
“Why? What’s going on here? This Sergeant can’t have looked this much like me, not with all the wounds, and every fine detail. You have disfigured this man, why?” he asked Nilsson.
“For the sake of the Alliance. So long as Bolormaa is under the impression that you are incapacitated and out of the action, she will hold off. We know what she wants now. She wants to defeat you, and to be seen to do so in front of the entire universe.”
“I am well aware of that fact,” he snapped.
“And therefore, the quicker you heal and get back to doing what you do best, she is going to be coming for you, and coming for all of us with everything she has.”
“You see, if you stay as a wreck as far as anyone knows, we get a respite, and all the while you can keep on fighting under an alias. We can keep rebuilding, keep on fighting, try and even the odds before the day finally comes,” added Jones.
Taylor felt that all they were doing was prolonging the inevitable, but he liked the enthusiasm and dedication he was seeing.
“You think you can pass as me, do you, Sergeant?”
“Yes, Sir, I do. At least as far as is necessary for my mission.”
“The Sergeant was selected from thousands of potential candidates. He is just two years youn
ger than you. His height is perfect, his bodyweight a few kilos under,” added Nilsson.
“You must have gone through some major work on your face,” Taylor added, looking at the man.
It was amazing. The transformation was near perfect. Nilsson went on.
“The Sergeant will remain aboard this station as your unit goes about their duties. You will go back to work, but not with your Regiment. We cannot risk you being spotted in their presence. The whole universe has to know and to see that Captain Jones is leading in your absence. We cannot risk any doubt in that regard.”
“So all of this, and I still can’t go back?”
“This is the way it has to be, but you won’t be alone,” replied Jones, “I have selected a few of our own to join you in whatever endeavours you pursue. The Alliance needs us both right now, but we can’t do that together, not yet.”
“So where do I go? What do I do?”
“You are to be transported to a secure location, the reason for which will remain secret until your arrival. You have twenty-four hours, Colonel. After which time, the Sergeant here will assume your identity, and you will disappear from the limelight.”
Taylor pondered it for a while. It was quite a surprise and a lot to take in. He didn’t much like hiding, but he also hated sitting around doing nothing, and to step back from the public eye was something he would be glad of.
“You see, Colonel. This way we keep your image alive. We can continue to use your name and reputation to boost morale, but we keep Bolormaa’s wrath at arm’s length,” added Nilsson.
Taylor rubbed his chin as he thought it over.
“What do you think, Colonel?”
“Do I even have a choice, Admiral?”
“No,” he replied sternly.
Taylor smiled. “I appreciate your honesty at least. Let’s do it.”
CHAPTER 2
Jones nodded to Taylor as two fully armoured marines approached them. Their visors were down and faces obscured as a result. One of them gave a salute to Taylor.
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