“Ah, yes, the sidekick, and ever in Taylor’s shadow, just like your ancestors. How does that feel?”
“A lot better than being despicable scum like you.”
CJ grinned and looked back to Taylor.
“Are you going to let your little bitch do all your fighting for you?”
Bradley didn’t know how to respond, and Jones could see he was intimidated by CJ. He looked around and plenty of others on the hangar deck were starting to take notice. Whatever went down, dozens would witness it, and there would be no way to contain the story. It was on the cusp of falling apart, and Jones was the only one who could do anything about it. CJ put a hand on Taylor’s shoulder, the side that had been wounded, and applied just a little pressure. Bradley winced as if to play along with the part, but it would only last so long.
Jones couldn’t take it any longer. He was the only one in the room who knew Bradley’s secret, and so he alone who could protect it. He raced forward, grabbed CJ, and pulled him around, punching him square in the face. CJ staggered backwards, as much in surprise as from the actual power of the blow.
“Well, well, you have found your balls, after all,” he replied with a smile before coming right back at Jones. He punched, and Jones parried it, but a knee smashed into his stomach. Even though his armour took the brunt of it, he was still driven back. In that moment as they parted, he was aware of how quiet the hangar had become. All eyes had turned to their fight. It was the last thing he wanted, but all he could think of to get the attention of both CJ and everyone else away from Bradley.
CJ let out a cry as he rushed forward and punched towards Jones’ face. He voided it and counter punched, but as CJ came back up, he drew a knife and slashed it across Jones’ face. The superficial wound stretched from his left ear to just below his eye. It was a sadistic and unnecessary move, and it made him angry, precisely as CJ wanted. He rushed forward and took hold of CJ’s knife hand as it was thrust at him. He delivered an elbow into his jaw and a back fist followed it. CJ let go of the knife but delivered a powerful push kick in return, launching him back, and he crashed over a mechanic’s workstation.
He was back on his feet in no time, but that made his blood boil, and he stormed towards the clone of his ancestor. As he did so, a voice boomed about the room.
“Halt! That is an order!”
It was loud and authoritative enough that they did indeed stop. Admiral Nilsson stood beside them with four armed guards at his back, but he wouldn’t let them come forward. He fully intended to handle it himself, and expected them to follow his orders. There was no anger on his face, only the cold calmness that he had displayed before Taylor, and this time it had much the same effect. Jones picked up the knife from the deck and paused for a moment, as if considering what to do with it.
“There are plenty of enemies for you to fight, so vent your anger towards them, and not waste it on this ridiculous situation. You both fight for the same cause, don’t forget it.”
“He doesn’t fight for us because he believes in the Alliance. He’ll turn on us just as soon as it suits him,” snapped Jones.
“Maybe he will, and maybe he won’t. I have seen the most surprising of things in this war, and a criminal becoming a hero would be no surprise at all.”
“Hero? Do you know the crimes that thing is guilty of?”
Nilsson looked offended that Jones should not even dare to ask or question his knowledge.
“Sadly I do, Captain. It is my job to know, and don’t believe for a moment there is a single man or woman that steps aboard this station that I do not know everything I need to about them.”
Jones was shocked, but there was no doubt the Admiral was being serious. He was like no officer he had ever known. More like a machine than a man.
“Give the knife back, Captain, and let us all get on with the important work that we have to do.”
Jones groaned. He could barely bring himself to put one foot in front of the other. Giving CJ back a weapon simply felt wrong, and the blood dripping down his face and into his mouth was a bitter reminder of that. He flipped it to hold by the blade and went forward slowly and cautiously. His right hand slipped down over the grip of his pistol in readiness to draw if need be. Even in the presence of the Admiral, he didn’t believe CJ was sane enough to hold back.
He slowed his breathing and tried to be as calm as possible, knowing that CJ was volatile. He eventually stopped and held the knife out. CJ smiled as he took it and quickly sheathed it, but before leaving he leaned in close to whisper something to Jones.
“That isn’t Taylor over there, and we both know it.”
He drew back to look at Jones’ response. He tried to hide the truth as best he could. Inside he was swearing constantly, understanding how much trouble they might be in.
“You stay away from the Colonel. He is vital to this war, and he needs time to recover from his extensive wounds,” he replied.
CJ nodded in agreement as if half accepting his response, but Jones couldn’t tell either way if he had gotten away with it.
“Enough of all this. Jones, you have work to do.”
“Yes, Sir,” he replied before carrying on to his ship. He looked back one last time to Bradley and saw the concern on his face even though he was desperately trying to hide it. He watched CJ and his team stride on past the Admiral before the ramp closed before him.
“Shit,” said Jones.
“What is it?” Sommer asked.
Jones shook his head. He couldn’t tell her the truth, but he had to say something or further risk exposing all their work.
“CJ may fight for the Alliance, but he would do anything to hurt Taylor, and that is no secret.”
“The Colonel can look after himself.”
“No doubt, but…not right now.”
“What do you mean?”
“Don’t you think if Taylor was well enough to fend off CJ, he’d be out here with us?”
It was the best way he could think to cover the true story, and it was at least fairly accurate. There was so much room for things to go wrong, and he wouldn’t put it past CJ to give up their secret to Bolormaa personally.
“Damn it,” muttered Jones.
“What is going on here?” Sommer knew there was more to the story than Jones was telling her.
“It’s just hassle that we don’t need right now. We have more than enough to do, and these are pointless distractions.”
“If you don’t mind me saying. Maybe you are at a loss without the Colonel. He is a hell of a man to have to step into his shoes.”
“That is certainly true, but I wouldn’t dream of even attempting to fill his shoes. Every mission we do without him at the forefront is one that is far more dangerous for the rest of us.”
“It still boggles me how one man could become so much, so important, and so powerful. How can any human do all that he has done?”
“If you asked him, he would probably tell you it is as much a curse as a blessing. No human was ever supposed to live a life like he has. The Krys believe he is some kind of prophet or ancient hero, maybe they are onto something?”
“I hope not.”
Jones didn’t understand.
“Because we all need to know that we can survive the same things Taylor has been through. We need that hope. If he is something else, something different from the rest of us, that changes everything.”
“Yeah, well, I never cared much for superstition myself anyway. Taylor is something special, no doubt, but he is still just a man.”
Their craft lifted off as Jones sat down. He knew he had to get his head in the game for the mission at hand, but he couldn’t focus. He tried to think how to keep CJ away from Taylor, but there was no way for him to go about it without raising red flags. He sighed as he slumped back. The others looked at him with sympathy, as if Taylor’s absence was getting him down. He appreciated their thoughts, although they didn’t understand the half of it.
* * *
Ta
ylor rubbed his sore head as Rivers led him down aisle after aisle of experimental equipment. He recognised some components here and there, but most of it was alien to him, and he still felt stunned and disorientated from the beat down he had taken.
“You, Colonel, are one of the best fighters humanity has known in hundreds of years. Yet a marine with a fraction of your training, experience, and skill level took you down. You know why, don’t you?”
Taylor groaned in response.
“Technology. You were beaten with science, and this wouldn’t be the first time. We don’t fully understand what Bolormaa really is, and I would love to get more data on her, but the one thing I am certain of, Colonel, is the source of her power is not her genetics, but the science that she has access to.”
“Some creatures are born faster and stronger than others,” he replied.
“That is true, but are we to believe that this Bolormaa just happens to be the strongest and fastest creature in the universe? I highly doubt that.”
“You might believe it if you had to face her in person.”
“No, it would change nothing. I know she is fast and strong. I know this because I believe in the reports that you and others have made about their encounters, but that does nothing to explain the source of her power. I’d like to think the most powerful creature in the universe would have a little more sense and compassion than Bolormaa does. I do not believe she is all-powerful. I don’t believe she is immortal and unkillable. She is just another problem to overcome.”
“Every problem has a solution. Spoken like a true scientist.”
“Yes, precisely.”
“But what do you do when a problem does not have a solution?”
“Every problem has a solution. It is only a matter of how much time and work it takes to find it.”
“That’s all very well and good while you are in a lab, but when the clock is ticking on your imminent death, it is a different story.”
“We brought you here because we have some solutions to the problems you face, not to bewilder you with theory,” added Rogers.
“I’m listening.”
Rivers led them on a little further until he reached a line of glass cubicles. Each held a suit like those that Maloney and Pitt were wearing. There were just three of them, with two empty cubicles.
“These suits, Colonel. These are the future. More powerful than anything you have ever seen or worn before. They are twice as powerful as the one you are wearing, and twice as fast. They have no restrictions on dexterity, and move as though you were wearing nothing at all. And yet they offer protection which is unprecedented.”
“Great, and so why haven’t they been shipped out in quantity yet?”
He could see a little hesitation on both Rogers and Rivers’ faces.
“What is it?”
“These suits, the AR2 as we call them, are purely experimental at this stage.”
“And?”
“And that means they are not ready to see active service.”
“You have just told me how great they are, so what is the problem?”
Rivers tried to find his words, but he appeared uneasy with what he needed to say.
“Come on, spit it out. I don’t have the time or energy to be fed bullshit. I need the real hard facts, no matter how shit you think they might sound.”
“Much of the technology in these suits is not of human origin, and as a result, we are still trying to workout a number of complications.”
“Not of human origin?”
“What he is trying to tell you is that at the heart of this project was a good friend of yours, Councillor Irala.”
“What?”
“Irala knew that if humanity was to survive, it would need greater integration and understanding of Aranui technology. More specifically, he knew that you, Colonel, would need to be far better equipped if you were to stand a chance,” replied Rivers.
The death of his friend still weighed on him, but that soon turned to anger.
“Why did he never say?”
“This project had to remain top secret. Not a single risk could be taken. If news of the work here had gotten out, Bolormaa would surely destroy it before we could make any of the progress that we have,” said Rogers.
Taylor sighed but could see there was so much more to it, and he stared at Rivers until he went on.
“Irala helped us immensely in understanding some of their technology, but you have to understand that the Aranui people are thousands of years ahead of us. They are an isolationist society, and for that reason, we see little of what they can and are able to do. Unlike every other race we have encountered so far, including our own, they have no interest in conquest, nor a will to show off what they have to the rest of us.”
Taylor grumbled. “What are you trying to tell me?”
“That these suits are ready to go,” added Rogers.
He looked into Rivers’ eyes and saw he shared the same concerns, but couldn’t find the words to admit it.
“Please, just give it to me straight,” said Taylor wearily.
“So far we have not been able to fully understand the power source that these suits use. They have an operational time of approximately thirty minutes, after which they need to be left for most part of a day to recharge on their own, or a few hours if connected to a power source. In direct sunlight the time does increase slightly.”
“Thirty minutes?” asked Taylor in astonishment.
“But for those thirty minutes the user has Godly strength and speed unlike any human could ever have dreamed of.”
Taylor shook his head as he thought it over.
“I guess thirty minutes could still be useful. If you had enough of these, you could cycle them and…”
From the look on their faces, something else was wrong, and he was starting to work out what it was.
“These five suits, they are all you have, aren’t they?”
“I am sorry, Colonel, but these were merely prototype models for our testing purposes.”
“But these are designed for humans?” he asked, looking at the proportions.
“It’s true. This was a joint project, and Irala was helping us to understand how to use their technology so that we could begin production ourselves. Sadly, with the loss of the Councillor, we are having to work out a lot of things ourselves. His loss was felt far more through the Alliance than perhaps you ever realised.”
Taylor sighed as be paced back and forth. Losing Irala had struck him hard, but he’d no idea the ramifications would keep hitting him well after his death.
“So these suits. What you are telling me is that they could turn this war around, but you can’t make more of them?”
“Not yet, no, but in time we should be able to understand them further.”
“Time, it is always the answer I hear, and yet nobody can explain to me how we are to find it.”
“Colonel, we brought you here to give you a fighting chance the next time you face Bolormaa. We can do that with existing equipment and technology. Making it in quantity was always going to take a lot longer,” said Rogers.
“Please do try this, Colonel. This could save your life.”
Taylor groaned but reluctantly agreed to give it a go. He began taking off his own equipment and put his helmet and weapons on a table nearby. He was helped into the suit that had been used to defeat him. As it was clamped around his body, it felt he was being weighed down with lead.
“How am I supposed to fight in this? You might as well attach an anchor to my feet,” he protested.
“Just wait and see, Colonel. You are in for quite a surprise,” replied Rogers.
Finally, the suit was sealed at his back. He heard what sounded like some kind of power surge, and the weight was completely lifted from him. It felt as though he was in water, floating weightlessly. He twisted and moved his arms, marvelling at the feeling. It was as if he were completely detached from his limbs, as there was no resistance at all.
“Amazing, isn’t it?” Rogers asked.
“You see, Colonel, the Aranui are not a physically strong people, but always appear as though they are when you deal with them. They use this technology in a way that would have you believe it were magic, and I believe that is precisely what Bolormaa is doing.”
Taylor looked down at the helmet he had taken off and couldn’t help but put the suit to the test. He lifted his arm and smashed it down on the helmet. His arm stopped dead, and he felt little of the impact. For a moment he thought the structure of the helmet had stopped him, but as he pulled it away, he saw that the crown had given way and compressed the top of the helmet, flattening it to within a few millimetres of the metalwork top. That too had buckled slightly under the power. He looked suitably impressed, and so did Babacan.
“Let’s put this to the test, then.”
He pointed to the arena where the other two had been practicing. Babacan took off his weapons and followed Taylor into the arena. The Krys officer towered over Taylor as he always had done, and they squared off three metres apart.
“You ready for this?” Taylor asked.
“Always.”
Taylor rushed forward and punched Babacan in the stomach before he could even react. Babacan gasped in pain, but still swung back in response. Taylor was already out of distance before the blow would have reached him, and it found nothing but air. Babacan rushed at him with a few rapid paces, but he leapt aside, swept his legs, and punched him in the face as he flew through the air. He tumbled rather ungracefully onto the floor. He was a little stunned by the hits, but as he got onto one knee, an Assegai landed beside him.
“Enough playing around. Let’s see if this can be done when it counts. You come for me, and give me everything you have. You better not hold back.”
He trusted Babacan to give him everything. The Krys had become quite human since he had first met them, but they still could not accept any weakness or question of their own strength. Babacan grasped the weapon and jumped back up onto his feet.
“This is foolish,” said Rivers.
Battle Beyond Earth - Box Set (Books 6-9) Page 26