Battle Earth VII (23 page)

“A thousand things we could have done differently and not ended up here, Jafar.”

“And a thousand things you could have done which would have killed you sooner.”

Taylor smiled, patting his friend on the shoulder.

“Sure beats rotting in a cell.”

He grabbed Mertens and shoved her down behind the car.

“You don’t have to die here,” he said.

She seemed baffled.

“This car here. Get in, and we’ll move to the next one. Once we’re in cover, you can pull away. They can’t know you’re still with us. You can make it to the border, you can…”

“No,” she stated firmly.

“I’ve seen you are important to humanity as any president, Colonel. Presidents come and go every few years, but you are constant.”

“Maybe not for much longer,” he jested. “You know this story ain’t gonna have a happy ending, right?”

She nodded.

Stubborn! I like this President.

There were no sirens in the distance. No police rushing to the scene or help coming for them. Taylor had never felt so abandoned since he had been in a prison cell. The black clothed gunmen approached their position, using the cover of the vehicles that were stacked up. Finally, as they finally took up positions, one of them called out to him with an amplifier of some kind.

“Colonel Taylor! Our fight is not with you! President Mertens is under arrest for breach of the public trust and illegal use of her powers. Hand her over, and this can end peacefully. She is not your responsibility. She is not your problem. Give her up so that she can face sentencing in a European court, and you may walk free.”

“You mean UEN court?” he asked.

“That is Europe, and anybody who says different is a troublemaking rebel intent on dividing our people.”

“Christ, who is this guy?” asked Mertens.

“Someone who is really starting to piss me off,” replied Taylor.

Taylor took aim at the man through his sights. He squeezed the trigger without hesitation. The bullet hit his throat and instantly silenced him. Blood spurt out from the wound. Gunfire returned almost simultaneously, forcing them to duck down as the car they were sheltering behind was peppered with fire.

“Not much of a diplomat, are you, Colonel?” shouted Mertens.

The shooters started encircling their position, and Taylor saw one appear at their flank. He opened up with his rifle, and the man ducked back down. Jafar was doing the same at the other end of the car while Waters and Hughes kept it up at the centre. Taylor knew it was his last magazine, but he’d accepted the end, just as he had done so many times before.

His rifle was out. He reached over and grabbed his pistol from Mertens and kept firing. The gunmen were surrounding their position, and he knew he didn’t have long before they were completely exposed to the troops working their way around the flanks.

All hope seemed lost, but just as the thought passed through Taylor’s mind, engines roared towards them, kicking up dust. He looked up to see copters fly into view and come to a hover over them. One was Rains’ distinctly painted monstrosity, with a distressed stars and stripes and a reaper carrying a scythe.

It must be a dream.

“Impossible!” he yelled.

Troops leapt from the copters and landed all around. The first face he saw was Parker’s. She was wearing the full gear of an Inter-Allied NCO. He couldn’t believe his eyes, no matter how much he wanted it to be true. She rushed towards him and pushed him down into the cover of the car.

“Are you okay? Are you okay?”

He could barely find the words to respond. He got up and could see dozens of allied troops flooding through the streets, pursuing the gunmen who had plagued them since the crash of the Deveron.

“How are you here?”

Another man approached, another who was unmistakeable. Sergeant Silva, his arm replaced with a bionic. He looked as purposeful as ever.

“It was his idea,” Eli said, pointing to the Sergeant Major.

“Hit me,” he said.

She looked at him funny.

“Hit me, or I won’t believe it’s real.”

He expected a slap, but Parker punched him in the face. His head rocked back before recovering with a smile as blood trickled from his nose.

“Eli, meet President Mertens.”

“Ma’am,” she said with a small bow.

“How are you here? America wanted nothing to do with this?”

“We aren’t here as Americans, Ma’am. We’re here for him, and that means we’re here for you.”

Taylor turned around once again. The black clothed gunmen were in full retreat. Rains’ copter put down in an opening between the vehicles and rushed out in person to greet Taylor.

“Son of a bitch, you’re still alive? Means we didn’t fly out here for nothing!”

“Ma’am, if you’ll join us,” said Parker. “We’ve fooled this band of gunmen, but this isn’t the US getting involved. This really is all we have. We need to get back into friendly territory.”

“Lead the way!”

Taylor ran alongside the two of them.

“I thought you were done with the Corps?” he asked.

“Not by choice. I left for you, but while I can have both, I’ll take everything I can get! Now let's get the hell out of here, before you attract anymore trouble!"

He could barely believe it were true. After all the hardship they had faced the past few days, they had been saved. He rushed to Rains’ copter as quickly as he could. Even as they were lifting off, they could see more gunmen and vehicles rolling up to the scene.

"Close call," he whispered.

"Should be your middle name!" Eli said, smiling.

A minute later and they were in French air space. Three fighters raced up to their flanks.

"What now?"

"It's okay, Mitch. They're here to escort us to Paris."

"How'd you wrangle that?"

"We told the French they could either escort us in or shoot us down."

"That's a relief," he replied sarcastically.

"I thought we were going for Paris?

Taylor looked at the military base where they were coming in to land.

"Sorry to disappoint you, Colonel," replied Rains. "This is Meaux, a base set up last year, and very shiny it is, too!"

Taylor was first out the door and down the ramp once they were on the ground, and General Dupont was awaiting them with a few dozen soldiers.

"Good work, Colonel!"

They were the last words he ever expected to hear from the Frenchman who had become so embittered towards him, but that was all he was going to get. The General stepped past and offered his hand to Mertens.

"Welcome to France. Please come this way."

He turned back for a moment.

"Colonel, Commander Phillips is en route for liaison purposes. I'll meet with both of you in thirty minutes in my office."

As eager as Taylor was to rest, he knew there was work to be done and was glad to finally have managed to get an audience with someone who had the power to do something. He looked around to see those who had come to his rescue. There were no officers among them, except for the pilots. He counted a little over thirty marines. Silva and Parker seemed to be in charge. He paced up to the RSM who looked mighty pleased with himself.

"How on Earth did you manage this?"

"Heard you were in trouble, and it didn't take much to convince the Lieutenant," he stated, pointing over to Rains who was slumped against the landing gear of his copter. The pilot gave off a mock salute.

"You're crazy, whole lot of you. No way White signed off on this."

"Nope," replied Silva.

"So you're AWOL, and entered a sovereign nation’s air space to raise hell." He paused for a minute, "And I can't thank you enough, you crazy fools. Couldn't have done it without you."

"I wish we could have got more of the unit here, but this is just about all we could get away without raising flags. As far as the Corps is concerned, we're in Arizona on exercise."

"And due back when?"

"Tomorrow," replied Silva.

"And you?" he asked Parker.

"I quit the job, and I'm back. Not officially, but I'm here."

He looked out to the rest of them who were waiting for some news or explanation.

"I know you must all be eager to know what the hell's going on! All I can tell you at this stage is that a war is brewing on Earth, the likes of which even we have not seen, a war amongst humankind. I can't give you much more at this time. The only thing you should know, the Krys are in on it, and will use it to exploit a weakness."

It didn't seem like news to them, so he continued.

"As far as I know, the United States wants no part of this growing conflict, but I cannot and will not accept that! I didn't fight all these years, only to see the World go to shit while we sit back and enjoy some kind of peace that can never last. This new alliance, a European Alliance, may be our best hope of getting through this. I'm committing myself to their service, but I cannot ask you to do the same. I am in all your debt for what you did for me here, but now you must make a choice for yourselves. You can go home, or you can come with me."

There was no answer.

"You know we got the shit jobs in the war. The jobs no other sons of bitches believed could be done. I fully intend to take up that mantle once more, but I will think no lesser of any marine who would return home and see an end to this. If that is your desire, step forward now, or stay the distance."

Nobody moved an inch.

"We're with you, Colonel, just as we always have been," Silva boomed.

"Then ready yourselves because the work is just about to begin. I meet with General Dupont and Commander Phillips shortly, and I fully intend to offer our services to whatever end may be necessary."

The all nodded in agreement as they sat about in the sun, as calmly as if they were at home. Nothing seemed to shake them anymore. Those who stood before him were some of the most experienced veterans the World had seen in a few hundred years, and they knew it. He nodded in acceptance and turned to go to Dupont.

Taylor strolled alone through the base of Meaux. It was an impressive sight. Row upon row of brand new buildings and dozens of armoured vehicles and jeeps which looked like they'd never seen war, though he knew they had. He walked past an engineers’ workshop where dozens of soldiers were working to overhaul war-damaged trucks. They were parked up bumper to bumper in a parking lot to one side of the huge hangar.

Bullet holes riddled some of their paintwork, but others were far worse with twisted chassis and bodies almost ripped in half. As he carried on past the structure, he found another line up of the same vehicles fully rebuilt and ready to use.

Just in time to go back to hell.

He got some odd looks as he headed for the General's office on foot.

His American flag was in plain view for all to see, and he still carried his rifle slung over his back. No one else he passed carried weapons nor wore armour, as per regulation, but nobody stopped to question him. He finally reached the HQ building. As he approached, the two MPs at the entrance looked desperate to pounce on him.

"Hand over your weapons," one said.

He passed his rifle over and was thankful to have it off his shoulder, but as they looked down to his pistol, he shook his head.

"You're not having my sidearm."

"You may not enter armed."

"Not in peacetime, but don't you know there's a war on? I've had too long a day to put up with this."

"Let him through!" yelled a voice.

He looked up. Dupont's head was poking out of a window and bellowing the command that could not be refused. They reluctantly let him pass. He took pleasure in their discomfort.