Battle Earth VII (3 page)

"I told you not to get involved. You forget who runs this show," he stated while looking exceptionally happy with himself.

"Get up!" Jafar shouted to Taylor.

He was powerless to act and that only made him more furious.

"Get up!" he roared again. The Mech was advancing towards Taylor.

The Mech reached him and lifted its right leg to stamp down on the Colonel. He regained composure just in time to see the foot that would bring instant death looming over him. He quickly swung the shield at its other leg and hit with all his force. The swipe of the heavy shield smashed the creature's planted leg and took it off balance, causing it to crash to the ground and onto its back. It was barely enough time for him to get his senses back and clamber to his feet.

Taylor ached all over from the impact, but his knee seemed to be working right again, and he shook off the pain and drowsiness. He looked over to see Jafar was frozen solid. He gazed at the audience. Several were filming it with handheld devices.

Shit!

He looked back to Jafar. "You gonna help?"

"He can't help you, Taylor," Weaver said. He lifted his controller and smiled.

"What's the problem?" asked Jafar. "You've killed far greater enemies."

Taylor nodded in agreement, but his body didn't seem to agree. Years of living in peace, and being given light base duties as a result of his status, had softened his abilities more than he realised, but there was no time to fret over it. The audience was silent now and waiting with baited breath to see a conclusion to the fight. He knew he had to give them more than a victory. He needed to give them a spectacular display.

"All right, you son of a bitch," he whispered to himself.

He raced towards the creature. As it swung for him, he ducked under and drove his Assegai up into its torso, but he did not stop there. Blue blood spewed out as he reclaimed his blade and spun around striking the Mech with his shield. It staggered back, and the crowd cheered as a trail of blood coated the floor. It came at him once more with a huge hammer blow that he voided and used the power of his suit to leap into the air. His legs went up over, and he somersaulted around onto its shoulders.

The Mech tried desperately to reach up and grab hold of him, but it was too late. He drove his Assegai down into its faceplate, and the beast immediately went limp. The body crashed down face first to the floor and delivered Taylor back onto his feet. A pool of blood expanded out from the wound where the Assegai was still impeded and left for sheer effect.

The audience was speechless for a few seconds, as they saw the blue blood engulf the soles of the Colonel's boots. He finally threw up his shield triumphantly, and it was all they needed to go wild. Wolf whistles and applause echoed throughout the room. Even Weaver looked pleased.

"Thought you wanted to see me lose?"

"Oh, no, seeing you bleed a little is enough for me," he said, looking at the small trickle of blood coming from the Colonel's mouth. "Far from it, this has been an immense success and speaks volumes of the potential of such displays in the future."

"We ain't doing this again," he snapped back.

"Why on earth not? Look at them," he said, gesturing towards the ecstatic mob.
 
"Not man enough?"

"Not stupid enough. I fought that war because I had to, not for fun or entertainment."

"Wrong again, Colonel. You fought because you were told to and because you were paid to. Just as you will continue to do whatever is ordered and required of you now."

"Yeah, well, we'll see about that, won't we?"

"What are you gonna do? Leave? Go and take some shitty 9-5 dead end job where you know no one and nobody cares for you. And you won't be taking your friend here along. He's a soldier till the day he dies."

"Marine."

"What was that?"

"Marine, you asshole."

"Colonel, don't know if you looked recently, but he ain't one of us, never will be. He's an asset, a fighter when we need him to be, and a circus act when we don't. He knows his place. Maybe you should, too."

Weaver turned back to his audience with a grandiose smile across his face and throwing his arms up in the air, as if it was he who had been victorious.

"Well, how about that!" he yelled. "You've played the video games, you've watched the movies, but have you ever seen it done for real? The real deal, the real steel; a marine taking on one of the enemy’s deadliest warriors in close combat and winning. Let me hear it for the Colonel!"

It was sounding more and more like a boxing match analysis, and he didn't appreciate it at all. He stepped past the screens as they slid back and around Weaver to address the audience personally.

"There it is. They aren't pretty, and fighting them is no joke. I pray none of you ever have to, but it's my job to make sure that if you join the Corps, you are fully prepared to do just that. Thank you for your time and good luck."

He dropped his shield to the ground and paced off, leaving his Assegai still firmly impeded in his vanquished foe. He stopped for a moment beside his friend to see he was still immobile. He shot a murderous glance at Weaver, who gave in and clicked a button on his remote that reactivated the suit. The two of them carried on in disgust.

"You aren't wearing that piece of crap again," he snarled.

They raced through the warm Arizona night in Taylor's own open top jeep. Jafar's head stuck out over the windscreen and into the path of the wind, but he didn't care.

"That was a mockery of all we ever achieved and fought for," stated Taylor.

He got no response.

"What, you have no opinion?"

"Surprised you thought it would go any other way," he finally replied.

"What, turning humanity’s greatest struggle for survival into a theatre act?"

"Is that not what peace is?"

It silenced Taylor as he thought more on it.

"I didn't see so many friends die for us to reach this point."

"This is your purpose now."

"So we just carry on doing this?"

"Until another opportunity presents itself. I am at the will of your commanders as much as you are. Until the next war comes, we must weather it."

"You really look forward to the next war that much?"

"Is it so surprising when looking at the alternative lives we now lead?"

It was true that Taylor missed the companionship of his troops he had enjoyed during the wars, but it seemed a monumental price to pay for those few moments of friendship.

"Where are we going?" asked Jafar.

"To find a bar, nothing else to do."

A few kilometres down the road they came across a secluded establishment that would be all but hidden from view on the sparse desert road, were it not for the neon lights garishly illuminating the sight for all passersby. They said nothing more than 'bar', with no indication of a name.

"Is is wise to enter a local establishment after the last occasion?" asked Jafar.

"I don't give a shit, and anyway, so what if we get into trouble? You enjoy it."

Jafar shrugged his shoulders, unable to disagree. The jeep rolled to a halt in the open plain next to the building that vaguely resembled a parking lot. It was relatively busy considering the remote location.

Taylor strode to the door and smashed it open to find a number of patrons staring at him. He still had on his fatigues from the demonstration earlier. The only rank identification was well worn and barely visible from where it had rubbed on the Reitech armour. They seemed relatively inviting for a second, and then Jafar stepped through into the room behind him. The tall and broad alien had to duck down to get through the door, and his presence made them all freeze and stare with their jaws almost hitting the floor.

All conversations in the room stopped; the only sound emanating from a jukebox at the side of the room with some old rock music of the kind Taylor appreciated.

"Looks like my kind of place," he stated.

There was no response until the two of them took a step further in, and the barkeep finally spoke out.

"Hang on, son, what are you doing bringing one of them in here? This some kind of joke?"

A few of the patrons grunted in approval of the words.

"Wait, that's Taylor, ain't it?" whispered one of them.

He looked over to see but didn't recognise the man.

Great, another asshole who wants to make a point,
he thought.

"Yeah, that's Colonel Taylor!"

The others looked at him with a little less suspicion and were starting to come around, realising a TV personality was among them.

Nothing like a bit of star power.

He didn't want their praise, their gratitude, or even to be recognised.

"Just here for a drink."

"Well, you sure can come in...but...err not with your friend there," said the barkeep.

Taylor shook his head. He wasn't surprised; it had happened enough times it was becoming boring.

"All right, now you listen up. I bet there's more than a few of you here who fought in the war, but I can guarantee you that my friend here killed more of those bastards than all of you put together, and then some!"

There was no response.

"We both gave everything to protect this country and this planet, so I don't want to hear any bitchin’ about where we can and can't buy a beer. We're staying, and anyone who has something to say about it, they better do so now!"

Several looked away, and it was clear that despite many not being happy about it, they were not going to speak up.

"That's what I thought," he said loudly.

He strolled to the bar confidently and defiantly with Jafar by his side. Half of the patrons watched their every move, while the others turned away and tried to ignore their presence. It made Taylor wonder what on Earth they were fighting for if they were going to be seen as such outcasts.

"Two beers," he said to the barkeep.

The man now had little choice. He passed over two bottles and sighed as he took Taylor's money. A few seconds later, he was squirreling off, pretending to be busy with other customers when it was clear he only intended to gossip. Taylor rested back against the bar edge and swilled his beer.

In just a few seconds, they had gone from the centre of attention to being almost invisible. Conversations continued all around them. He felt as if they had vanished beyond sight or sound.

"Nice to feel wanted," he muttered.

"You always seem to want appreciation for your efforts, why?" Jafar asked.

"Maybe because we fucking deserve it. Look at what we achieved in the wars, and now half the World or more treats us like shit. Easy to forget our efforts when there isn't an occupation force around the corner."

Jafar seemed to have nothing more to say on the subject.

"Oh, come on, you want to say something, so say it."

"We are for war. It is our purpose."

"And?"

"We need another."

Taylor sighed as he thought about the prospect. One of his biggest fears of another war was that it would take him away from Parker, and yet he seemed to see her less and less since they had won the war.

"All the people you hold dear coming together to do what they were born and bred to do."

"And die as well?"

"We all die eventually."

He was starting to understand how the aliens could fight so fearlessly in combat. He hated to admit it, but he was beginning to miss the war. Not the death or loss of friends, but the companionship, the sense of purpose.

Now where am I? Surrounded by a group of assholes who'd rather have me thrown out the door than make conversation.

In the background something caught his eye, and he turned to see his name along the top of a video game machine at the side of the room. The board above it read 'Battle Ops 2: Taylor's Triumph'. There was a picture of a soldier loosely resembling him on a poster at the side holding an American flag up in the air.