“I guess you’d better go ask the enemy about those numbers, then!”
“It’s okay, Alita,” said Taylor.
They soon reached a landing lot and climbed aboard a lavishly expensive, but unmarked ship. The three of them took a seat in sumptuous armchairs. They were still armed, but they very much got the sense they were not free to go if they chose. Vargas’ bodyguards watched them like hawks, as the man himself took a seat opposite. Taylor already knew he would hate this man. He was the worst of the spin-doctors and paper pushers. An armchair general, but even Taylor knew he must abide by the laws of the Alliance. He pushed boundaries when he needed to, but nobody need get hurt here.
Taylor opened his mouth to ask a question of Vargas, but he stopped, knowing it was a waste of time. Instead, he hit the recliner switch, lay back down in the leather chair, and closed his eyes. Vargas shook his head at how quickly and easily Taylor was able to almost pass out into a comatose state. That at least brought a smile to Jones and Alita's faces.
"How can he sleep after all he has done?" Vargas asked one of his team.
He thought he had been quiet enough for them not to hear, but he had no such luck.
"How can you sleep at night after how little you have done?" she asked him.
Vargas did not respond. He knew he was wasting his time just as much as Taylor had realised. He got up and moved further along the ship so as to be out of hearing distance.
"That's right you little creep," said Alita.
"Best not anger these people. They can only do us harm," replied Jones.
"Yeah? And sometimes, someone needs to say something. Taylor taught me that."
"Yes, and Taylor frequently lands himself in the crap as a result."
"And always comes out smelling sweet."
Taylor wasn't quite yet asleep and smirked just a little before finally nodding off.
* * *
"Mitch...Mitch?"
He was ripped from his sleep and jolted up as if expecting a fight, but all he found was Alita by his side.
"We're here."
The door of the ship was opening and their armed escort awaiting them. Not even the landing had woken him from his deep sleep. He realised now how much he had needed it.
"Come on. We've got to go."
He rubbed his eyes and got to his feet. He wasn't going to like what was coming next. He stepped out onto the ramp. The light outside wasn't from daylight at all, but long lengths of strip lighting running along the roof of a concealed landing bay. He imagined they were below the surface in a well-armoured bunker.
"Well, this is new," said Jones.
They were led to the end of the docking bay where four guards stood protecting a steel door. It was little over the height of a man and just as wide and already open. It was half a metre thick and able to withstand an incredible amount of force.
"Your weapons," stated a guard.
Alita looked to Taylor in shock.
"Nobody but authorised personnel goes beyond this point with weapons about their body," Vargas said from behind them.
Still Alita looked to Taylor for confirmation.
"I guess killing a few thousand of the enemy doesn't prove loyalty anymore, but having the right piece of paper does?" Taylor asked him.
"Protocol, we all must follow it, Colonel. A fact that you seem to have lost track of."
Taylor felt himself getting angrier inside. He wanted nothing more than to grab Vargas by the throat, although any violence enacted upon him would only give weight to his argument. He saw Alita's right hand edge towards the grip of her pistol. Not to hand it over, but to draw.
"Give them up. This asshole is just trying to make us out to be the warmongers he wants to paint us as."
He turned and smiled at Vargas as he said it, and glad to see it cut deep into the man's soul. He was using his own methods against him, and finally there was a little anger in his eyes. He had sparked a nerve.
"Come on, move it. The President is waiting," he snapped, attempting to hide his bitterness. They each laid out their weapon belts on a shelf beside the door and proceeded to go inside with Vargas leading the way. They passed through yet another set of security until the narrow corridor opened out into a conference hall. The President was sitting at the far end with one of his aids and a General, but there was no one else to be seen.
"Colonel Taylor and two of his officers," Vargas stated.
His tone was disparaging and disrespectful, but Taylor let it go. They strode up the centre of the room into what was a mouth of a vast horseshoe table with seating for a hundred officials. Three chairs were laid out in the centre, as if an interrogation had been planned for them.
"Take a seat," said the President in a formal manner.
Taylor didn't want to. He already sensed they were being boxed in, but he obliged and took the middle seat. His comrades took his flanks. The President just looked at the three of them for a few moments before taking a deep breath and sighing.
"Colonel Taylor, you and I both know why you are here."
"Because we got a shit job done in the only way we could."
He shook his head.
"This is not a foreign world, Colonel. Reno was not some distant land with savage occupants that nobody cares for. My deputy's daughter was in that city for Lord's sake!"
"And I hope she made it out."
"Hope? Colonel, you launched a tactical nuclear weapon at a civilian target from a defence grid built at much expense to defend this world! Did you have authorisation from anyone to do such a thing? Because if you did, I need to know names."
"This was my decision, and mine alone."
"Then you must pay the.." the President went on.
But Taylor leapt out from his seat and rushed forward, slamming his fist down on the deep table that divided them.
"I'll be damned if you or anyone else expects me to apologise for that. I am sorry that people have lost their loved ones, but don't blame us. Don't blame our people, not a single one among us. Let's not forget who caused this. It was not a civilian target. Do you know how many enemy combatants had overrun that city? Thousands. Thousands! Barbaric troops that would have soon overrun the refugees fleeing the city outskirts, and they would have reached other population centres soon enough."
The President sighed.
"Sit back down!" Vargas commanded.
Taylor looked at him scornfully and turned back to the President.
"What am I to do with you, Colonel?"
"What I am best at, Mr President. Let me keep doing my job."
Isaacs was shaking his head. Taylor sat back down. He wasn't sure of any other way of making it right.
I know I’m in the right, but they just can't seem to see it.
"Taylor, you are a vital asset in this war. None of us are under any illusions of that fact, but I cannot keep you on active duty."
"Cannot? You are the President, you can do whatever the hell you want, Sir."
He shook his head.
"Only while I have the support of world leaders. Many see a close link between us, and there are rumours of a vote of no confidence in my administration."
"Nice to know you have your priorities in order. Covering your own ass," snarled Taylor.
"I can't do anything if I am deposed. Right now I count you among my allies, and I hope you do the same. I will call on you soon enough, when I can."
"And that might be too late. There is a war on, Sir, and that is not going to stop anytime soon. Not until we make it stop."
"I agree with you, but my hands are tied, Colonel. You made a tough call, and most people don't believe it was the right one."
"And you? What do you believe, Sir?"
He took in a deep breath and was weary of answering.
"I see, that's how it's gonna be."
"Look, Colonel, I have had calls from more than a dozen world leaders asking for your incarceration. Most of my advisors have recommended the same."
"I am s
ure they have." He gave an accusing eye towards Vargas.
"I am sorry, Colonel, but this is out of my hands. Your unit is being taken off the line. They deserve a break, anyway. Rest and recuperate, and keep your head down until this has blown over."
"Blown over? Mr President, you need to get out there and make people understand that this was the right call. We just saved God knows how many lives. If you don’t, you will undermine all our efforts.
"There is nothing more I can do for you, Colonel. Now, I have a lot more work to get done, if you will excuse me."
Taylor stood up, but he did not leave. He rushed forward towards the President's position once again. Vargas' team were quick to come forward with their guns pointing right at him, but he ignored them.
"Stop!" President Isaacs shouted at them.
The room fell silent as Taylor was allowed to speak.
"You're making a big mistake. You'll regret this. Trust me."
The President seemed to agree, but had nothing more to say. Taylor strode out with Alita and Jones close behind.
"Fucking asshole," Taylor muttered.
It was loud enough for the guards to hear as they stepped out of the main doors, but he didn't seem to care.
"You're going to take this?" Alita asked.
"We don't have a choice," added Jones.
"Of course we do."
Taylor was silent.
"We do, don't we?" she asked him.
"Not now. We cannot go up against this."
"That's right. You can't." Vargas was following close behind to ensure they boarded their craft.
"You murdered those people in Reno, and in time, I will ensure that you pay the price for your crimes."
Taylor had nothing to say. He would just be wasting words on the man. He ignored him entirely and took a seat aboard the craft, finally turning to Alita.
"They can't do this to us? Not after all that we have done. How can they be so ungrateful?"
"Because they only see numbers on a page. If we had let that city fall and all its inhabitants die, then they would be asking why we failed. Can't please everyone," he said and gestured towards Vargas, "And with creeps like that around, we will surely not have seen the worst of this yet. He means to destroy us."
"Why? What the hell is his problem?"
"He's a machine. A calculator. And we are living, breathing hot-blooded fighters. We don't conform to his plan."
"So what do we do?"
"For now, we do just what is asked of us. If people really believe we caused this, then there is nothing we can do to change their minds. All we can do is wait for the next disaster, when they will come calling. Because they know they need us. Just hope the day never comes when we see peace. We would be behind bars quicker than you can imagine."
"Is that the reality of it? That we must keep fighting just to stay free?"
"Yep," he replied cynically.
She looked to Jones for confirmation, but he was clearly on the same page.
"You know how many times I have seen this before? This is why I have never been any good at living in peace. I have been made the weapon I am. Sealed away for hundreds of years behind a glass seal that read 'break only in case of war.'"
She looked distressed by his words.
“There is more, you know.”
He wrapped his arms around her, knowing that in some ways she was right.
“Don’t you worry, this will all be resolved in time.”
He sat back in his seat. Jones was opposite and looked exhausted by it all.
“So that is it? We stand down? The whole unit?”
“Every action each of makes forms the reputation we have, and at present the people oppose us. We can’t help those who don’t want to be helped.”
“That’s crap. It has never stopped you in the past.”
“And what can we do from behind bars? You forget I know what that is like, seeing everything around me go to shit while I rot in a cell. I won’t let that happen again, not to any one of us. We sit this out for a bit. We stay ready and prepared for when the time is right.”
“And if Vargas has his way that could be never.”
“Trust me.”
Jones wasn’t so sure, and he could see Alita shared his concerns, but they didn’t want to talk about it anymore, not with Vargas and his goons so close to hand.
There was no sleep for any of them as they were transported out of the bunker and to a location that nobody would disclose to them. They were not allowed any windows open on the ship, and that at least was understandable. The location of the President’s bunker was a secret that needed to be closely guarded. None of them even checked the time. They had accepted that they were powerless for now. Eventually, Alita broke the silence.
“We’re coming in to land.”
The subtle changes of flight were something missed by the other two, but sure enough they touched down soon afterwards. Before the door opened they had Vargas lurking over them once again.
“You and your team are to remain on this island until such time as you receive orders otherwise. Your wounded have been moved to the local medical facilities, and further information will be sent to you shortly. You may maintain possession of your equipment and continue to carry out training exercises. However, you are forbidden to leave the island for any reason. You may not attempt to join in any combat, except in self-defence of this island. Those are your orders. Break these and you will find yourself on a charge, and behind bars soon after.”
“And for those with families?” Taylor asked, thinking of Jones.
“You may make communications as you wish and arrange for loved ones to come to you. But make no attempt to undermine the President’s orders. You are here until the President says otherwise. Am I understood?”
“Yeah, we got it,” Taylor snarled.
Vargas moved to the door and hit the release. They felt a blisteringly warm breeze blow in, and bright sunshine lit up the cabin.
“Enjoy your time here, Colonel. You might even like it, and feel blessed that you have been given such liberties, for I would not extend them to you.”
Taylor smiled. He was starting to realise how little Vargas had gotten his way. He stopped for one last line to Vargas.
“When the shit hits the fan, know that we’ll always be there to bail you out.”
Vargas looked a little surprised as if he had expected some witty insult.
“I just pray this mistake doesn’t cost the Alliance too many lives,” Jones said as he passed the man. Alita just glared at him. They stepped out of the craft to find beautiful blue skies and palm trees. The air was fresh, and there was no sign that any war had reached the place in hundreds of years. It was paradise.
“Where are we?” Jones asked.
“Hawaii,” replied Alita confidently.
Plenty of craft filled the skies, but nothing like a big city. Taylor hadn’t felt anything like it in years. The humidity of Reno had not been the same, and the threat of death somewhat diminished any such possible feeling, but Taylor was frozen.
“What is it?
“Nothing. It’s just beautiful, isn’t it?”
She didn’t believe him, and he knew why.
I remember back when I brought Eli here. Those fond memories don’t seem so long ago to me, and they make me feel distant towards Alita. Shit, that’s a dreadful thought! I can’t change things, but it still bothers me that Coco was left to live and die alone. At least when I look at Jones, I see her eyes and strength within him.
“You okay?”
Alita looked worried about him also.
“So strange, isn’t it?”
“What?”
“That such beautiful places still remain unspoilt by war. They seem to outlive us all.”
That didn’t help. They both looked at each other out of genuine concern for Taylor.
“I think you could do with a drink,” said Jones.
“That’s the only good thing I have heard said
all day,” he replied and snapped out of the daze he was in. The engines roared at their backs and kicked up dust all around them.
“So what’s next?”
“Next?” Jones asked her.
“Yeah, we’re not just gonna sit around here and let them have their way, are we?”
“We have no choice,” Taylor said sternly and went forward.
They had been dropped in a civilian area of the island, and that said a lot. They had no contact with the military base on the islands.
“Hey, it’s not all bad,” added Jones, “I always wanted to come here.”
“We aren’t on vacation,” replied Alita.
“That’s exactly what we are on. A hiatus until the next shit storm comes, and they realise they need us.”
“Surely not? They wouldn’t be crazy enough to leave us out of this until it gets that bad?”
“Yep, this is the kind of shit I have had to deal with a hundred times before.”
“That’s crap. You slapped the President down and put him in his place once. You overthrew the Cholan Emperor, don’t tell me you are just going to fold now?”
But he said nothing. So she reached forward and grabbed his shoulder, tugging him around so that he had no choice but to address her.
“What do you want from me?” he demanded.
She sighed and spoke quietly, “Hope.”
“Yeah, well hope just took a beating today.”
He threw her hand off and brushed past her. She rushed on by his side, wanting to stop him once more, but saw Jones chasing them and shaking his head not to. They followed him. He was heading for the nearest beach.
As the sea came into view, he looked for the nearest bar and spotted a dozen of their people lying about beside it. Bailey was among them and leapt to her feet as he approached.
“Colonel, what are we doing here? It’s like we’ve been banished to this place.”
“That about sums it up, yep.”
He went straight up to the bar.
“Give me a drink!”
“What can I get you?” the smiling barman asked.
“Anything.”
He reached into his pockets as if to find some money and realised he had none.
“You’re Mitch Taylor, aren’t you?”
Battle Beyond Earth: Retaliation Page 13