Battle Earth VIII

Chapter 5

"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.

"Sir...I...I..."

"No pressure, just your gut feelings."

The others all turned their attention to the Private and were genuinely interested to hear his answer. Taylor was pleased he had successfully moved on from the dire situation of the World and for them to forget it for a moment.

"I lived my whole life in a town of just a couple of hundred people, Sir. Never went more than I guess about fifty klicks from my home. Then one day a Sergeant came through town with a few veterans and told me what the Marine Corps could offer me."

"And you believed him?" laughed Silva.

"The Corps has been good to me. Seen things I ain't ever expected to see ever, some bad, some good, but all new."

"You're a simple son of a bitch," said Silva.

The others laughed.

"You regret any of it?" asked Jones.

"How could I? When I missed the last war, I thought I'd missed out on the biggest thing ever happened in this world. Thought if I signed up, then maybe I might be around and not miss whatever happened next."

It was an interesting perspective and got Taylor thinking.

"Not a bad explanation," he admitted.

"Sir, and you, if you don't mind me asking. Why did you sign up?" asked Acosta.

He had to think about it for a moment.

"I honestly can't remember anymore. I can't recall ever wanting to do anything else."

"Maybe we were just born for the Corps?"

Taylor smiled. "Sounds like you should get that on a shirt, Private."

"I think I might when we get home, Sir. Think I could make some money selling 'em?"

Taylor liked the fact he knew they would be getting home; he didn't just hope for it. He wasn't sure if that was due to youthful hopefulness or confidence, but it didn't matter. Taylor was feeling better about things already. While he had his comrades at his side, they had a chance at accomplishing anything.

"We're in the middle of a war, and yet nobody knows where we are...in the wind," Jones mused.

Taylor looked around the little bar that appeared to be a long running family business. Pictures of several generations adorned the walls. He'd got comfortable now and had no desire to move. It had been a long day with an early start.

"We'll stay here the night."

"Is that wise?"

"Charlie, I figure whoever is after us will expect us to move by night. Their troops will have limited movement once the sun is down, and that'll mean we really stand out. In the day, we just look like everyone else, pretty much."

"Apart from that," Jones said, pointing to the stars and stripes patch on Taylor's arm.

He'd worn it for so many years he had forgotten it was even there. He reached around and pulled it from his sleeve and looked at the faded colours. He'd never been without it on his uniform, and it was a strange feeling he didn't appreciate. The others looked shocked, watching him stare at the patch until finally he looked up at them.

"Same for the rest of you. Get your colours off."

They reluctantly did so.

"You know without these on we could be considered spies rather than soldiers?" asked Silva.

"I think that's the least of our problems right now, don't you think?"

Taylor slipped the flag patch into a pocket out of sight and tried to act as if it didn't bother him. It occurred to him that he wasn't even acting in the service of the United States anymore, but that wasn't enough to make him take it off.

"You really think we can pass ourselves off as UEN troops?"

"Why not, Charlie? There’s God knows how many nationalities involved in this."

"And if we're called up on it, who are we supposed to be?" asked Silva.

"I dunno, say you're Dutch or something. I always hear how much they sound like us when they speak English."

"Maybe to a dullard," replied Jones.

"Maybe we'll get lucky."

Taylor got up and strolled over to Silva, slumping down in one of the sofas beside him. He dared not take his armour off should they be discovered, but it was still comfortable enough he could sleep there.

"So we really staying put?" asked Silva.

Taylor nodded and began to doze off.

"Rotate watches with two on," he muttered, but he couldn't keep his eyes open any longer and was out for count.

"Sure it's a good idea staying here?" Herrera asked Silva.

"None of the options we have got are ideal, but one thing's for sure, we couldn't continue on in the state we are in. We hit things fresh tomorrow, and we'll get out of here."

"But we failed here, didn't we? Even if we do get out, it was all for nothing," said Herrera.

"The Colonel took a fair gamble which had to be taken. There are no certainties in war."

The Corporal turned to Jones who was still slowly enjoying his solitary beer and making it last.

"What do you think, Captain?"

"Jones suddenly looked up at him. His mind had been elsewhere."

"Think of what?"

"This war, how we weren't able to stop it."

"I think it's bad news, but there is absolutely no benefit in crying over what we cannot change."

"I don't believe that," said Herrera. "I've never seen the Colonel meet a challenge he couldn't overcome."

"That's a lot of faith to be putting in one man. More of a burden than I'd want to shoulder."

"But he always comes through for us, and so do you."

Jones didn't know what to say.

"And this is why the UEN wants the Colonel out of this war so badly. He's a massive boon for whoever has him. He inspires men and women to victories they never dreamed of accomplishing," said Silva.

Rains laughed. "Oh, come on, he's not a god. How about all the times I've saved your asses?"

"Agreed, we've all done a lot of good," said Silva. "But it is Taylor who’s kept us together. He is an asset the Regiment cannot afford to lose, that the EA cannot afford to lose, and that we cannot afford to lose. The United States already has, and look how hard it's trying to get him back, and they ain't even in this war."

"Yet," stated Jones, "there’s only so long anyone can stay out of this."

"You really think they'll come in on it?" asked Herrera.

"Definitely, once they know which way the wind is blowing."

"You're not suggested they'd just pick the winning side?"

Rains laughed again. "Oh, come on, man."

Jones nodded in agreement as well.

"Then I guess we just gotta give the right impression," said Herrera.

The UEN has used Mechs in their armies, and that's the first point in our favour. Another few decisions like that, and the work is done for us."

"And what then, we just blow the shit out of each other till one side is still standing?" asked Acosta.

"That's about the sum of it," replied Jones. "And then that Erdogan, or whatever his name is, will come at the survivors with all he's got. That's what I would do."

Six hours later Taylor awoke to an eerily quiet room. He got up to look at his watch and was amazed to see he'd been out for so long. It was dark outside, but the streetlights were still on. He looked over to the door to see Rains sat on guard and alert. Acosta was across the room, his rifle laying across his legs as he sat on a tabletop.

Mitch got up, and despite his body feeling stiff, he felt fresh and good. He stepped over to Rains, pulled up a chair, and sat opposite him.

"You let me sleep a long time."

"You needed it."

"I'm sorry I got you into this again. Seems half the time you get involved with us anymore, you end up with a rifle in hand."

"Was getting pretty attached to that bird too. Called her Agathe."

Taylor laughed. "Agathe? Not exactly smooth."

"Hey, named her after a lovely French girl I met a few weeks back."

Taylor held up his hands. "I take it back, and I hope that Agathe lasts a little better."

"So if we get back to our lines..."

"When, not if," Taylor interrupted.

"All right, when. What will you do then?"

"Go back to the frontline I guess. Wherever we're ordered to go."

"It'll be a waste."

Taylor waited for him to elaborate.

"Inter-Allied is something special. You can achieve things no other unit could hope to. You should be saved for more important tasks."

"What, like Special Forces, what do you think we are?"

"Look at what you have achieved. Just stop and look back at all the things you have done in the last what, six years. You are no ordinary marine, and this is no ordinary unit. Inter-Allied is something special. It always was."

"Well, thanks, but you better include yourself in that. You are one of us now, ‘cos you sure ain't French Air Force."

"Hell, no!"

The night passed without incident and at 0600 hours in the early morning, as things were just beginning to warm up, Jones stepped out of the front door to take in the fresh morning air. Taylor moved to join him.

"So what now?"

"We need to blend in. Head back north to the main road, disguise ourselves among the troops there, and make our way to the frontline."

"Risky business."

Taylor nodded in agreement. Now he was recovered, and able to reflect on the day before, his mind wandered to the scene when Jones had saved them and taken out the gunship.

"Yesterday, when you saved our asses," stated Taylor.

"What of it?"

"Well, a few things. One, it was batshit crazy what you did."

"Which bit?" asked Jones, seeming to pass it off as nothing unusual.

"All of it. For one thing, you didn't hesitate to shoot those MPs. Humans who aren't even in this war, Americans."

"I didn't enjoy it, if that's what you're asking."

"No, no. That's not what I meant."

Taylor went silent, trying to find a way not to offend his friend, but Jones continued on for him anyway.

"Those MPs stood in the way of your freedom, our freedom. We gave everything for this world to remain free, what are two lives to add to the toll?"

"Well I agree...in principle. I was just surprised to see you take them down like that, without concern or anything."

"I had concern, but for us. We cannot stop to care or consider the dangers to those who oppose us and put our lives in danger. Those days are long gone. They ended the first day the Krys set foot on Earth. It's a harsher world now than it has been in hundreds of years. I tried to pretend it wasn't and turned my back on it all. But it is a fighter’s world. Those who fight to survive and win have a chance, and those who do not, don't."

Taylor agreed but was surprised to hear the grim analysis of their world from Jones. For a man who had been so compassionate over the years, he now seemed to be utterly black and white.

"You know whether it was right or wrong, there'll be a price to pay for it one day?"

"Maybe, if we ever make it through any of this. Let's worry about winning this war before we worry about a few red caps getting hurt. We bled enough in these wars. About time they had a few licks themselves."

Taylor smiled. He had hated the MPs his entire life, and it always amused him to hear someone else ripping into them.

"And how about that gunship?" asked Taylor. "That was hard-core."

"I learnt it from you."

Taylor thought back and remembered doing something similar, but in space."

"All right, I'll give you that one."

Taylor looked back into the bar. They were all ready and waiting.

"Let's do this."

They headed on down the abandoned streets as if they were taking a walk in the park. Anything else would be suspicious so far back from the frontline. Finally, they came across the lamppost that had been demolished by the limo. It was the marker point for them reaching the main road. Up ahead they could see a line of trucks passing by.

"I don't like this," said Silva.

But they carried on walking as if there were no danger at all. As they stepped out to cross the road, a six-wheeled armoured vehicle rolled to a halt beside them. They froze.

Oh shit, Taylor thought.

To their surprise the driver's hatch opened, and the driver appeared before them and beckoned for them to jump on. He was shouting something Taylor didn't understand, though it sounded like German to him. Taylor couldn't believe their luck and knew they had to clamber on or risk appearing suspicious.

No soldier ever turns down a ride.

The six of them climbed aboard, and a moment later the vehicle had rejoined the convoy.

"Well what do you know? A free ride," said Silva with a smile.

Taylor was glad they were on top and didn't have to communicate with the crew, but he couldn't help but feel exposed. They were on full view to all they passed. They were on the road for close to an hour when the convoy came to a slow grind. Jones tapped Taylor's shoulder and subtly pointed to where they were heading. Mitch turned to see a line of US MPs up ahead and checking the occupants of each vehicle.

"Ah, fuck," he whispered.

"No way we'll make it past them. They know what we look like," said Silva.

Taylor looked around for possible options, but they were few. He gestured for them all to come in closer to hear what he had to say.

"We can't make it through there. We're gonna have to make a break for it. We can't be far away now. When I say, we jump and head west. As far as the troops here are concerned, we're the MPs’ problem until we start shooting, so nobody fires unless you absolutely have to."

It felt like a last desperate attempt to get free, as criminals always do from the police when under pursuit, and so rarely successful.

"Once we hit the ground, you run. All of you," ordered Taylor. "You run and run until you get across the border, and if we don't meet again, it was an honour."

Taylor looked back to the MPs. Two of them were already taking an interest in the group. He knew they were on borrowed time.

"Good luck to you all," he whispered. "Now!"

He jumped from the stopped vehicle and hit the ground running. He glanced quickly to one side. He could see the MPs frantically trying to get their rifles in hand, but the six of them were already down a side street before they could open fire. He looked around to see the group was still together and following him. They took a bend and kept up a sprint, despite none of them knowing how far they were from friendly lines.

"I feel like a kid again, running from the cops!"

"Yeah, but cops don't shoot kids. These ones surely shoot marines!" yelled Taylor.

It was motivation to keep up the pace, but as they took a bend up ahead, they saw they had run themselves into a dead end with a brick industrial building that stood twenty metres high. It had been a heavy goods vehicle access road that overtime had been blocked for whatever reason.

Taylor looked down at the display on his suit. His boosters had almost no power left at all. He ran and jumped, hoping for the best, but he barely got five metres off the ground before smashing into the wall and landing hard on the concrete below.

He was quickly back on his feet and looking for anyway out, but there was none. The others all looked to him for options, but there was only one left to them.

"Take up positions and prepare to fire!"

They went thirty metres back the way they’d come to the nearest cover of a few walls and large industrial trash cans.

"So this is what it has come to?" asked Jones. "Backed into a corner by MPs. How lame."

"We aren't finished yet. Do not fire unless fired upon!"

The MPs took the bend up ahead and came into full view, but Taylor and his comrades did not fire. Their opponents quickly found any cover they could until the alleyway went silent. It became a standoff.

"This is Major Martin. You are under arrest! You are ordered to lay down your weapons immediately!"

They recognised the voice. It was the same officer who had tried arresting them the day before, and Taylor knew he would not be very forgiving after the punishment Jones had dealt out.

"You have five seconds to lay down your weapons and come peacefully!"

"You know this guy is really getting boring," said Silva.

"It's only a few cops playing soldiers. We can take 'em," said Rains.

Just as he said it, they watched in horror as a Mech strode into view beside the MPs. It was followed by a dozen more.

"Oh, shit," said Eddie.

"They must really want you out of the picture," said Jones.

The Mechs lined up in the open ready to fire.

"This is your final warning!" screamed Martin. "Lay down your arms and no harm will come to you!"

Nobody said a word.

"You have five seconds! Five...four...three..."

Taylor prayed for a miracle, but it seemed pointless, considering he'd never believed in a god to begin with.

"Two...one! Fire!"

The Mechs and MPs fired simultaneously, peppering the entire area. Taylor put his rifle around the corner of one of the huge trashcans and fired a burst. Two of the shots hit a Mech, and it tumbled down dead. He tried to fire again, but his rifle was hit and wouldn't fire. He ducked fully back into cover and pulled the rifle up close. Two shots had hit the barrel and front receiver, rendering it useless. He threw it aside and drew his pistol.

A scream rang out. He turned to see gunshots penetrate a hole in the wall and hit Rains. A few were absorbed by his armour, but one passed through his upper arm and another the side of his neck. He dropped down to the floor, trying to cup his wounds. Before anyone could do anything, a grenade flew overhead and landed between Herrera and Acosta. They turned to move out the way, but the blast still caught them. Acosta was hurled against a wall and knocked unconscious while Herrera took shrapnel to the legs and hit the ground face first.

All seemed lost, and not to the alien invaders or even their agents, but to a bunch of MPs with their Mech dogs. But then an engine roared overhead. It brought the firing to a stop. Everyone looked up to see a transport close to the size of the Deveron swoop in overhead and cast a shadow over them all. A US flag adorned the hull, and Taylor shook his head. He knew it was the end.

Several doors opened either side of the ship and troops jumped out. A few dozen landed on the rooftops either side of the alley, and twenty dropped in to where they had come to the dead end. They were indeed US troops and fully equipped in Reitech equipment.

Taylor, Jones, and Silva had their weapons trained on them but had made no attempt to fire. The troops didn’t take cover or even kneel; they knew as much as Taylor did that it was over. An officer strode forward from the middle of the group without even a weapon raised. He wore Army Ranger insignia, as did all who had arrived with him, and bore the rank of Captain. He stopped ten paces from Taylor and looked down at the wounded before turning back to his troops.

"Medics!"

Taylor lowered his weapon, nodding to the others to do the same.

Medics rushed forward to help the wounded, and Major Martin came striding past the cover from the other direction.

"Thank you, Captain. We'll take it from here!"

The Captain looked up at the MP Major with a disgusted look on his face.

"You keep your filthy hands to yourself, Major!" he boomed.

Martin was stopped in his tracks and utterly shocked by the condemnation.

"Captain, need I remind you I have direct orders to detain these men and bring them back to the United States for trial?"

The Captain spat in front of the Major and replied, "Pack up and piss off."

Taylor didn't recognise the Ranger officer, but he liked him already.

"You are way out of line, Captain. Hand over the Colonel and his men and back down, or you will be placed on a charge!"

The Captain ignored him and raised his comms link and simply said, "Prepare to fire."

The Rangers at his back and along the rooftops trained their weapons on the MPs and Mechs. Martin's face turned to stone.

"You've done enough damage here. Walk away or never walk again."

Taylor could see the fear in the Major's eyes. He wasn't a fighting man and never would be. He was a bully who just got put in his place.

"You're in big trouble, Captain. More trouble than you can ever imagine."

With that the Major turned and left, and the Ranger officer knelt down and offered his hand to Taylor. Mitch couldn't believe their luck. He took his hand and was hauled to his feet.

"How did you do it? Who gave you the order to come to our aid?" asked Taylor.

"I did," stated the Captain. "If a soldier cannot come to the aid of Colonel Taylor and the Inter-Allied, then who will he help? There's a war to be fought. You know it. I know it. Every man and woman here came of their own accord and has pledged to defend this planet against all enemies, both foreign and domestic. I am Captain King, 2nd Ranger Battalion, and I am at your service."