Battle Earth VIII (Book 8) (8 page)

"Jones!" Taylor shouted again.

They heard the thunder of boots rushing towards them. He turned back to the window they had come from in the hope they could once again make a jump, even if it would mean leaving Jones behind. But as he made a step to do so, the gunship raised into view completely blocking they path.

"Whose clever idea was this, again?" Eddie asked as Silva helped him to his feet.

Taylor looked at the gunship and noticed it was in US markings. He knew he could use that to his advantage as he turned around to oppose those coming for them. Taylor didn't try and run for cover or raise his weapon when several troops burst into the room. They were all MPs with their rifles held high and screaming at the tops of their voices. It didn't intimidate Taylor or his team; they looked unbothered by their presence.

Through the middle of the MPs strode an officer. He walked with an arrogance and self-importance that made Taylor think they had met before, but then there were so many MPs like him, it was hard to tell.

"Colonel Taylor, you are under arrest for the charge of absence without leave, and insubordination, along with a series of other charges to be determined prior to your court martial. You are to lay down your weapons and come with us."

"And if I don't?"

"I have been instructed to inform you that should you come peacefully, charges will only be made against yourself, while your collaborators will suffer only a warning. Should you not come peacefully, your entire outfit will be put to court martial, including all who remained in the United States throughout."

What a bastard!

Taylor could see the man was a Major, and he didn't like the fact he hadn't shown the courtesy of introducing himself, but he let it slide in the hope of getting through to the man inside.

He is a marine, after all.

He thought it was worth a shot to try and make the officer see sense.

"Do you know what is at stake here, Major? Do you realise what we're trying to accomplish here? We have a chance to end this war. A war that the United States will get dragged into, whether it wants to or not. You have a chance to help us end it all here."

"It's not my job to interfere with the politics of the World, Colonel, and neither is it yours. We have rules for a reason, and when you signed up to the Corps, you signed on to abide by those rules."

"Fuck sake, Major! Pull your head out of your ass and open your eyes. This is about more than your shitty little job!"

He knew as the words were coming out of his mouth they would do nothing to sway the man's mind, but he was infuriated by what he was hearing.

"You have five seconds to lay down your weapons," he replied.

"Five...four..."

"Be smart, Major. This will not end well!"

"Three...two..."

The Major was halted by the sound of an object bouncing across the floor and landing in the middle of the MPs.

"Grenade!"

Taylor went to ground as the MPs leapt for cover, but the room ignited into a blinding light, accompanied with a deafening explosion. As Taylor looked up, he could see a few of the MPs stumbling around trying to come to their senses, but smoke was flooding the scene from a second grenade. Taylor turned to see the gunship pilot didn't know what to do because he couldn't fire into both groups. Through the smoke came a few muzzle flashes as bullets riddled two of the MPs, and Jones burst out of the smoke.

He didn't stop but rushed on and past Taylor towards the gunship. Taylor watched in astonishment as Jones fearlessly leapt out of the building and launched himself at the cockpit of the ship. The pilot realised too late what was going on, and Jones hit the windshield full force. The glass half caved in, leaving Jones embedded in the nose. The pilot reached for a sidearm, but he grabbed him by his helmet and smashed his head forward onto the console three times until his face was a bloody mess. The copter began to dip and spiral out of control.

"Let's go!" Taylor ordered.

The whole group sprinted for the opening and leapt after the falling copter. They saw Jones leap from it just as it collided with the same building and burst through the glass as it erupted into flames.

They came to a smooth landing shortly after and looked up to see and tail of the gun ship still half protruding from the building.

"You're a crazy son of a bitch, you know that?" Taylor asked Jones.

"Yeah, well I can't let you have all the glory."

Taylor shook his head in disbelief. He knew the chances of that working were pretty slim, and it brought a smile to his face that they had pulled it off.

"Why don't they jump after us?" asked Herrera.

"Because they're a punch of pussies," replied Silva.

Taylor looked around at the empty street. They had landed in a small loading bay area behind a block of buildings in the main high street of the town. They could hear the traffic running parallel with them as if nothing had happened.

"We gotta move. They'll be on our asses soon enough," said Taylor.

They rushed around a bend heading towards the road and found a limousine, parked with a driver sitting on the bonnet and drinking a coffee. The man looked at them. He was surprised but made no attempt to move.

"You!" Taylor shouted and pointed to the man.

He seemed surprised and replied in a language Taylor didn't understand.

"We're taking your car," Taylor added, pointing his rifle at the man.

Finally, he replied in English and put his hands up as if to surrender.

"I won't stop you."

He stepped aside and out of their way.

Taylor climbed into the driver's seat, but it was a tight fit with all of his gear on.

"We're getting out of here in style," he said, putting his foot to the floor. The rear wheels spun before Silva had even pulled the back door shut.

"Right!" Herrera shouted. "That way! That way!"

"Will you shut up, fucking backseat driver!"

He took the bend anyway and could see the signs for France.

"UEN forces and US MPs operating in Switzerland. If they both had permission to operate there, things really have gone to hell," said Jones.

Taylor nodded in agreement.

"Anyone know how far our lines are?" asked Silva.

"You mean you didn't check that sort of information before we left?" asked Taylor.

"I'd kinda expected to be flying out."

"Rains, what the hell happened up there?"

The pilot shrugged. "All I know is something struck the body of the copter, and two seconds later, bam, no juice. Must be some kind of power jammer."

"And if that thing had hit us in the air?"

"We'd have dropped like a stone."

Acosta's face was one of shock. The scenario terrified him.

"All right, we've got enough to worry about right now," said Taylor. "We're heading for the frontlines from the wrong way, and we aren't exactly inconspicuous."

"I know Dijon is still with us," said Herrera.

"Dijon? Taylor asked. "That's what, a hundred klicks away? Well it's a start."

Border control signs lay ahead, and Mitch could already see armed military personnel manned them.

"How come that Saric isn't on our arse yet?"

"I figure it'll take them a little while to identify this vehicle, Jones, but not too long once we go through this border."

"Any ideas how we're gonna get through?"

There was almost no traffic trying to get over the border, just a single military column stopped off and waiting to pass through in a single lane.

"There’s no way they'll let us through once they see our uniforms, let alone if they recognise us," said Silva.

"Then to hell with it," replied Taylor.

He put his foot to the floor, and the limo surged forward with what was clearly a substantial engine. The heavy beast of a vehicle surged forward towards a gate between two booths. Two of the soldiers turned in surprise and started to swing their rifles off their shoulders. As they did, he heard a clunk on the roof and looked in the rear view. He saw Silva and Herrera step out through a sunroof. The guards took aim but were riddled with shots as the two of them peppered the area around them.

Soldiers all around were rushing to their vehicle to get weapons which had been stowed or laid about as they rested at the side of the road, never expecting to be shot at so far behind their lines. Dozens scurried about to try and stop them, but it was too late. The limo hit the barrier and smashed it aside as though it weighed nothing at all.

Silva turned and fired a burst from where they had passed at two soldiers taking aim and ducked back inside the car.

"Wohoo!" he yelled.

He was like a kid at Christmas.

"Top ten things to do in life, run a border!" he shouted and kept laughing.

He stopped when he saw a column of armoured vehicles ahead; Mechs marched beside them. The sign they passed said they were on the road to Mulhouse.

"Mulhouse? Where the fuck is that?"

Jones was frantically punching buttons on his Mappad, trying to make sense of where they were. They passed the rows of vehicles in the hope no one would start shooting. The dark glass of the massive car was the only protection they had from identification.

"We can't stay on this road," said Taylor. "Only a matter of time till word gets along the line. They're probably putting up road blocks, right now."

"Are we really that important to them?" asked Herrera.

"Well maybe not you, but the rest of us are," replied Jones with sarcasm.

The others began to laugh when Jones shouted out. "Left here!"

Taylor pulled the wheel hard, and the back end of the stretched wheelbase slid around and smashed into a lamppost on the corner of the bend they wanted to take. The post was smashed down into the building beside it, but it had at least stopped the slide.

"Nice driving!" yelled Silva.

Taylor planted his foot once more, knowing they must be drawing attention.

"Where are we heading?"

"This is the road west to Belfort. That column we just saw must be heading for Nancy and all the fighting that's going on up there."

"You sure did your homework since you came back."

"Knowledge is power, Mitch."

Taylor nodded in agreement.

"We gotta get out of this car. Heading in the obvious direction in such a distinctive vehicle, we're on borrowed time. This thing got auto-drive?"

"Yeah, but if we ditch this ride now, we could be overrun on foot," added Silva.

It was a tough call. Use speed to try and outrun, or stealth to try and sneak back to their lines. Taylor was just counting the seconds away until a gunship or drone hit them, and that thought alone was enough to make him want to ditch the car.

They were in a suburb now and could tell they were heading for a scenic route west. He pulled in down a narrow side road and brought them to a halt between two buildings where they would be out of sight. He got out and rested against the car. The others did the same.

"It’s not possible to take the car and go on to Dijon. We can't keep it. Anyone got any great ideas on how to get us back? Preferably yesterday.”

"Get me a bird and I'll take you there in no time."

"And fly over the frontlines without clearance from either side? Eddie, we'd be shot down before we came close."

They all went silent, mulling over the idea. They were so close, and yet it seemed so far from their grasp.

"Get the General on the line and get us evac’d?" asked Acosta.

"It's a nice idea, but he can't reach us here, not without a major offensive, and any transmissions we send out will be tracked immediately. No, we are on our own here."

"Then we go to ground and wait it out a while," said Jones.

They waited for him to continue.

"Think about it. They know our reputation as hard drivers. If they haven't found us in the next six hours, they'll assume we have made it out."

Taylor thought about it for a moment, and he liked the idea more and more.

"It's not a terrible idea."

"Thanks."

"Okay, get that car rolling, and we'll look for somewhere to dig in."

Jones reached in and pressed a few buttons before shutting the door. Moments later the car rolled off smoothly to carry on its route. They all watched it leave. The fifteen-metre luxurious vehicle was hard to let go of.

"That's a damn shame," said Silva.

They all groaned in agreement.

"General Dupont surely knows it’s all gone wrong here. He must do something?" Acosta asked.

"How many times, Private?" asked Silva. "We are a few guys in a big war. Not only that, but this was a dangerous fucking mission to begin with. I thought that was perfectly clear. In this Regiment, when we get into shit, we get ourselves out."

Taylor carried on without another word to a street corner on a small residential area. It had only just occurred to him they had not seen a single soul since taking the bend a few streets back. He had become so accustomed to seeing abandoned towns and cities during the last war it meant little to him.

"Area must have been evacuated when the UEN crossed the border," said Jones.

They carried on down the street that felt like the kind of place you could be ambushed at any moment. A block further down the road, and Silva finally broke the silence.

"What are we looking for?"

As he said it, Taylor stopped and pointed. It was a small local bar.

"If we're gonna be playing the waiting game, we might as well do it in comfort."

"Oh, hell yeah," said Silva.

Taylor went first and opened the door. It was still stocked and tables set up as if they were waiting to open that day. Silva caught sight of a huge leather sofa and rushed over to sprawl out over it.

"Oh, man, this is the life."

Herrera went for the fridges behind the counter. He placed his hand on the door gave out a long sigh.

"No shit, they're still on and ice cold!"

He opened the door and found it lined with bottled beer, but he turned and looked to Taylor for permission to take one. Taylor nodded in approval.

"One each and that's it."

"Yes!" he replied, taking out the bottles and throwing them across the room to everyone.

It was a bizarre situation, none of them would deny, but they at least tried to make the most of it. Mitch took a seat at the back wall and put his rifle down on the table. Jones took a seat opposite him.

"How long do you want to stay here? Move out at sundown?"

Taylor looked at his watch, noting it was only a few hours away.

"How badly do you think they want us?"

"The UEN? There must be plenty among them who wouldn't want to come after us, either through some sense of respect or fear."

"You think we command that kind of presence?"

"Wouldn't you?"

Taylor had to agree, but he gotten so tired of such fame and notoriety during peacetime that he'd tried to forget.

"It's not like the last war. You haven't got some ugly alien bastard leader trying to take your head off for some insult to his family or some such. But the MPs, that's another story. They'll chase you to the end of the Earth to drag you home in chains."

"The fact they have been given authority to operate here is my greatest concern. The United States could turn the tide in this war, and the UEN is clearly doing everything they can to create strong bonds there."

"What's the plan, Colonel?" asked Herrera.

Taylor didn't know for sure himself. He was trying to piece it all together in his head when his mind went back to the rooftop. Escape had been at the forefront of his thoughts for the last hour. Only now was he thinking of the purpose for being there in the first place.

"We can't stop this war," he muttered.

It was a grim realisation, and they were all starting to feel it. From the first shot in the war to that afternoon, Taylor had firmly believed they could bring a ceasefire and unite humanity under one banner once again, but it was not to be.

"What does that mean, Sir?" asked Acosta.

"That we're grinding ourselves down for the Krys to swoop in and take this planet for good. All the fighting we have done will have been for nothing. It's hopeless."

Jones kicked him under the table. "It's never hopeless. You of all people should know that as you've proven it enough times," he said. "So humanity is divided, so we fight each other, we always have. But let's not forget how hard we hit those alien bastards. They may weaken us, but they're already devastated themselves."

"But we have no idea what further resources they have."

"And they have no idea what human resolve is, and if they'd been strong enough to take this planet, they would have already, don't you think?"

Taylor was starting agree.

"They think this world is the paradise their race has been searching for thousands of years. If they could, they'd be here right now."

Taylor looked around and could see the dire faces of those sitting around the bar. Gone was the enthusiasm for the cold drinks they were still holding. It was replaced by a grim tone that made them all feel helpless. He knew he had to snap out of it before it destroyed the unit.

"Private," he said to Acosta.

"Yes, Sir."

"Why did you join the Corps?"

He hesitated for a moment; he had expected an order and not a question.