Battle Earth VII (5 page)

Sirens could be heard approaching on the road outside, but they made no attempt to run.

“You’re going down for this!” shouted the barkeep.

He rushed out from behind the bar with a scattergun in hand as if to act all tough, now he knew he had the authorities close to hand.

The young lad who Taylor had so recently been conversing with leapt forward to jump in the way.

“Hey, come on, you saw who started this!”

“You keep your mouth shut, kid! These boys came in here looking for trouble, and they found it.” He turned his attention to Taylor again, “We don’t want your kind here. You fucking soldier boys are all the same. No war to fight, so you start one.”

“Marine,” replied Taylor sharply.

“What?”

The barkeep rushed up to Taylor with his gun and tried to jam it in his face.

“What was that you said?”

Taylor gave him not a second longer to make his pathetic attempt at intimidation. He snatched the barrel of the gun and ripped it from the man’s arms and turned it on him.

“I didn’t spend years of fighting and losing friends to put up with this shit.”

He spun the stock around and struck the man’s face, breaking his nose. He dropped to his knees, blood pouring through his hands as they cupped his bleeding face.

The door of the bar burst open and police rushed in. Taylor instantly released his grip, as to not be gunned down by trigger-happy local authorities, but he was still as calm as ever.

“You just remember who it was who fought so you could live your life,” he stated.

He knew his words would be lost on the bar owner, but he seemed to get some sympathy from those watching. Others were disgusted by his actions and seemed to view him as the sort of degenerate who they’d rather have behind bars.

“Freeze!”

It was over. Six cops all ready to pull the trigger rushed them. Two pushed Taylor over against the wall to cuff him. They tried the same to Jafar but could not move him. One stuffed a gun in his face and screamed. “Turn around! You are under arrest!”

He looked to Taylor first. He wouldn’t take the command from a stranger. Taylor nodded in agreement for his friend to accept their fate, but he smiled at the cops, revealing blood seeping into the gaps of his teeth. In response, one drew a shock baton and drove it into his stomach. His went limp and dropped to his knees.

“Not so funny now, is it?” the cop shouted in his ear.

* * *

The night seemed to have gone on forever as Taylor sat on a hard bench in a prison cell. After what he’d been through in military detention, it didn’t seem so bad. Jafar sat in a cell opposite him. He was willing to bet good money that his alien friend would be capable of prising the bars apart with his bare hands, but he had done as ordered and gone along with it. Hours had passed without a word between the two of them when Jafar finally spoke out.

“Yesterday you tried to get out of a fight any way possible, and yet in the night, you sought one, why?”

It gave Taylor pause for thought.

“You say you don’t want to fight anymore, but then enjoy it when the time comes.”

“A good honest bar brawl is the end to a good evening. Fighting a war is something I would wish on no man.”

He wasn’t sure he necessarily believed that whole-heartedly, but it seemed like the best way of explaining it.

“But you were asked to fight a war, just one Mech. An unarmed Mech. How is that different to what we just did?”

He didn’t have an answer. Somehow in his head it made sense, and he had enjoyed every minute of the brawl, and hated the Mech fight and the reasons for it.

“Your people only seem to like and respect you when there is a war and when you are fighting it, and yet you wish for peace?”

The questions were getting more trying and piercing Taylor’s thoughts.

Yes, maybe I do pray for another war.

A door opened at the far end of the corridor dividing their two cells, and they could hear three pairs of footsteps approaching. Neither of them got up to greet their visitors. Two cops and Weaver came into view. Weaver was shaking his head in disgust and disapproval.

“You’re a maniac who should be locked away in times of peace for the good of society. But someone, somewhere thinks you have a part to play. You’re a relic, Taylor, one that will be paraded around until nobody longer cares and then thrown aside. I can just see your life ten years from now. Sitting in a trailer park somewhere, alone and drinking yourself to death. Replaying the glory days in your head while nobody gives a shit anymore.”

Taylor wanted nothing more than to reach through the bars of the cell and throttle the detestable creature. He only restrained himself because the only thing he wanted more was to get out of the cell.

“And a good morning to you,” he replied sarcastically.

Weaver shook his head. He was clearly trying to get a rise out of Mitch and give them all an excuse to keep him behind bars, but he wasn’t biting.

“Let him out.”

“Bail ain’t even been paid,” protested one of he officers, “This guy wrecked a whole bar and half the patrons in it.”

“I think that’s exaggerating. He’s one man, not an army. Now, you know who I work for. Let him out before I have to start making calls you don’t want me to make. And let that thing out while you’re at it,” Weaver said, waving towards Jafar.

The cop reluctantly swiped his security card through the cell access point, and the door slid open.

“There’s a first time for everything,” said Taylor.

“How so?” Weaver asked.

“I’m happy to see you,” he sneered.

“All right, let’s go.”

The two of them followed Weaver out of the cellblock to the front of the station where they heard cheering coming from the front desk. They got to the atrium to see two police officers watching a video of his fight with the Mech the previous day. It had clearly been filmed by one of the audience. He could see the crowd come into view on the edges.

“That you?” asked one of them.

“Fucking epic,” added one of the others.

“Yes,” added Weaver. “That little stunt of ours has caused quite a stir since it has gone viral; five million views in less than a day. A lot of people can see plenty of potential in that.”

“In what? Live assassinations? We used to condemn and invade countries for it.”

“Times change, as you should learn. The people want what they want, and I’ll happily give it to them.”

“As long as it doesn’t risk your own neck.”

“Precisely, Taylor.”

Taylor didn’t like what he was hearing, and he doubted he’d like what was coming in the next few weeks even less, but right now, he was just relieved to be free once more.

“You have a driver waiting out front. He’ll take you directly to the Deveron where you’ll be transported back to base. You’ve got a few days leave, anyway. When you come back, you can be guaranteed we’ll have something to keep you on your toes.”

What an asshole!
Taylor thought, walking off in disgust.

It was close to evening when Taylor finally got to his home on base. As he approached the door with his key card in hand, it slid open. Parker stood at the entrance to greet him. She no longer wore the uniform of a marine. She was dressed as a private contractor in military style but non-unit specific gear fatigues. She looked curious for a moment at the bruising on his face.

“Should I ask?”

“Probably not,” he took her in a firm embrace and lifted her off her feet as he carried on through the doorway.

“So how’s life treating you in the private sector?”

“Can’t complain about the pay. Few more years of this, and we can live wherever we please.”

He seemed surprised.

“You think I should follow after you? I thought you loved the Corps?”

“But I love you more, and if I can’t have both, then you know what I’ll choose.”

He sat down wearily on the sofa, and she sympathetically grabbed a beer for him.

“Come on, let’s not make it about this again. You know I’d have stayed if there was any way.”

Taylor knew it to be true. Since the war was over, there was little chance of them getting away with their relationship any longer with the way things stood. But half the time it felt like he’d lost another comrade-in-arms.

“Looks like you gave more than a talk out there.”

He smiled in response.

“Just some idiots at a bar.”

“You keep doing that and you’re gonna be in some real trouble.”

“Really? What are they gonna do? They need me.”

“For now, but you're not going to be young forever."

"Yeah, thanks."

Weaver had threatened his existence in a similar manner, but coming from someone he loved gave him pause for concern. Fatigue was setting in and the realisation that he really hadn't had much sleep. He knew his body would appreciate the rest, for it was bruised and battered. It wasn't long before he was out for the count.

As the sun rose, he woke to find Parker beside him. It brought a smile to his face. That smile was lost as he noticed a flashing light on the comms screen on the wall, an incoming message.

Can't be from anyone I want to hear from,
he thought.

He started to move which got protests from Parker as she groaned and tried to keep him put.

"I gotta take this."

"Right now? You're on leave."

"Yeah, but I already caused enough trouble lately. Let's not invite more."

"Mmm," she finally agreed.

He stepped up to the console and tapped it for the message to begin. He'd expected video, but there was only text. It was from General White's personal aide with orders from his superior. It simply read 'Report to General White as soon as you read this'. It was an ominous message of the sort he'd not expect from the General.

"What is it?" asked Eli.

"Looks like leave is cancelled."

"What? You only just got here," she protested.

"Tell me about it."

She crawled out of bed and stood behind him with her arms over his shoulders.

"You must plead your case to the General. You've done enough."

He turned around in surprise.

"Out of the Corps, and already you’re no longer thinking like a marine. We don't bargain with our superiors. If we are called upon, we are there one hundred percent. How would we have won this war if marines chose whether to report for duty?"

She shook her head. "But we're not at war, are we? You can't keep doing this. All we did during the war was look forward to a life together and away from it all, but where are we now? Worse off than ever."

He had no answer for her because he felt the same.

Maybe it’s time to give it all up.

He'd never admit it though. He didn't rush to respond to the message. An hour later, he presented himself for the General. White was close to retirement now, and Taylor didn't look forward to the day he was replaced.

As he walked into the room, he could smell a mix of furniture polish and whiskey. He entered with a smile, but it was removed when he could see the expression on White's face. He had the look of a man who to give someone bad news and hated having to do it.

"Morning, Sir," said Taylor.

He smiled in response but did not speak, gesturing for Taylor to come in casually and sit before him.

"Now I know you were due some R&R, Mitch, and I can't think of a man more deserving, but these orders come from above my head.

"Spit it out, Sir."

"Your fight with that Mech the other day has caused quite a stir. I can't say I liked the idea, and I can assure you I had no part to play in it. However, we cannot shy away from the fact it is now a global phenomenon. The video has gone viral, and they love it."