Battle Earth VII (10 page)

He took hold of one of the fingers wrapped around his throat and with all his force snapped it back, breaking the joint. The alien winced a little and released its iron grip, allowing him to shift his weight and drive an elbow down onto its collar. He followed it with two punches to the alien's face. It was enough to free him. He fired his boosters and flew over the creature and came to a rough landing on the stage, causing him to go into a roll before getting back to his feet.

Weaver was still on the stage and now looked white with fear. It was clear he was already regretting his decision to free the Destroyer. He stood between Taylor and the alien.

"What are you waiting for? Kill it!" he screeched.

What as asshole,
Taylor thought.

He stayed put, trying to use every second he could to get his composure back, and was in no rush to help the man who had brought it all upon them. The Destroyer strode forward. Without breaking stride, he took Weaver's head in one of its hands and crushed his skull. His body went limp and collapsed where he had stood. Taylor wouldn't miss him.

With nothing to hand, Taylor picked up a metal chair and smashed it down on the Destroyer as it came at him. The impact barley knocked it aside, and it grabbed one of the bars, ripped it from Taylor's grip, and threw it to the side. He'd never felt so helpless in his life. Without weapons, the creature seemed invulnerable.

Just as all hope was lost, he heard a loud shout in the alien language he did not understand. They turned. Jafar was standing equidistant to their side.

Thank God!

"You ready for this?" he asked his friend.

Jafar said nothing. He only rushed at the Destroyer. As it punched forward for him, he angled his body away and drove a knee in hard before pulling back and delivering a thunderous uppercut to it. It lifted its feet off the ground and fell on its back.

Taylor jumped in to stamp down on its head, but the alien nimbly rolled out of the way and back onto its feet. This was a long way from the clumsy Mechs he was used to fighting. It moved like Jafar and not so differently from Demiran. As Jafar approached, it spun out and struck its backhand into his face before lunging for Taylor. He jumped out of the way and rolled back across the room to where he could see his pistol resting.

The Destroyer tried to follow, but Jafar took one of its arms and pulled it back towards him. Taylor got to his gun and took it in hand. He turned back to see the sharpened elbow armour of the Destroyer strike Jafar and open up a huge cut across his cheek and onto his nose, but that didn't stop his friend coming right back at the beast.

As the Destroyer swung for him, Jafar took its arm and spun around so it locked the other also from behind. For just a few seconds, the alien was pinned. Taylor seized his opportunity and jumped in front of the two of them and put his pistol under their opponent’s jaw. He did not hesitate to pull the trigger. Blood sprayed up and over Jafar. The body went limp, and he threw it aside.

Taylor breathed a sigh of relief as he wiped the sweat from his brow and found his own blood trickling down his face from the impact he had taken.

"Way too close," he muttered.

He looked down to the body of Weaver which lay face down. His skull had collapsed inwards in places, and there was no doubt he had died instantly.

"Bastard almost cost us our lives, and for what?"

He looked around the room to see another ten dead, and six lying wounded from where they had been tossed aside with broken limbs from the impacts of the powerful creature. Camera equipment lay scattered across the floor. Two Gendarmes stood at the doorway frozen and speechless. They were the same two Jafar had loomed over when they first arrived. They had rightfully understood they could do nothing to help in the fight upon see the bodies of their two comrades.

Footsteps pounded down the corridor behind them, and a fire escape door burst open with another dozen Gendarmes rushing in through the side. They all stopped in shock like the first two. It took them a moment to fathom out what had happened. Finally, one of the new arrivals yelled.

"Do not move. You are under arrest!"

"No!" shouted one of the two who had been there throughout, "They, saved us."

The latest arrivals still couldn't figure out what had happened, and it was clearly a surprise to them to find an enemy soldier there at all. Taylor knew he had to speak. The man who had come to their aid was still too shocked to explain. He stepped up to the man who intended to arrest them. He looked at their weapons and saw they were the same outdated cased ammunition weapons they started the first war with.

"What do you expect to do with those pieces of junk?" he asked.

"We are here to police humans," he replied sternly.

"And if we hadn't been here to deal with this, what would you have done then?"

The Gendarmes officer leaned in close. Taylor could see an unmistakable burn mark running down his neck and inside his uniform, one that would only have been caused by a Mech weapon. He whispered so that only Taylor could hear.

"With all money being spent on redevelopment of the city, there is a limited budget for this. Not my choice of equipment, but given these or nothing, what would you have them carry?"

He felt sympathy for the Frenchman who was clearly only trying to do the best by his troops.

"So what happened here?"

Taylor pointed to Weaver.

"That idiot, my public relations clown, let that thing loose. It should never have been here in the first place."

"And you took it down with one pistol between the two of you?"

Taylor nodded. The man was surprised but didn't question it any further.

"You are currently stationed here?"

Taylor nodded once again.

"Then I would ask you stay here until we can pursue more inquiries as to how this happened."

Taylor agreed, but he was really starting to grow weary of the place.

"I'll be in the Presidential Suite for twenty-four hours at the most. After that, I am out of here. Now this circus is over, it's time to get home."

"Yes, you must have many questions to answer."

Taylor had almost forgotten the subject of his discussions that had led to the violent turn of events. It was a heavy weight on his shoulders now that he had a moment to think upon it.

"You're with me," he said to Jafar, "I don't want any vigilante idiots turning on you."

In all honesty, he knew Jafar would provide more protection for him than the other way around, but he didn't say it.

"Good work back there, saved my ass. Last time I go anywhere without my Assegai, though."

Jafar agreed, and they strolled out from the conference hall. There was little sign of life except for the Gendarmes, for everyone else had fled for their lives. However, one civilian stood confidently awaiting them. He wore a suit and had his hands in his pockets and his feet spread wide in a relaxed posture. His hair was carefully slicked, and he seemed to want to present an easy-going image while still being all about business. Taylor had never seen him before, but he seemed to know the Colonel.

"Colonel Taylor."

"Who wants to know?"

The man smiled as if to be friendly, but it came off a little false. Taylor already knew he wanted something from him.

"Whatever it is, I'm not interested."

"No, you misjudge me, Colonel," he said, putting his hand up to stop Taylor in his tracks.

"I just want to talk."

"Right, thirty seconds."

The man launched into a speech he'd clearly had prepared for their meeting.

"I am Councillor Armand, UEN."

Taylor was both surprised and curious.

"Keep talking."

"I heard what you had to say in there. This gladiatorial combat being barbaric, and I can see here you have made a friend of one who was previously an enemy. I represent a substantial move with the UEN who is looking for a sensible and humanitarian solution to the alien Prisoner of War issue."

Taylor groaned. It sounded a little soft for him, but he let Armand continue.

"All we’re looking for is a peaceful and sensible solution to the post invasion dilemmas the World now faces, but we need support from those who the World will listen to. Your voice holds weight, Colonel. Do not let it go wasted."

He handed him his business card. A small clear data card that Taylor had no doubt contained more information than he ever cared to investigate.

"If you want to see change, want to see some return to normality, contact me. I believe we have a lot in common."

The man turned and left, leaving Taylor with a hundred and one questions. It was a good strategy because it had worked. He wasn't at all sure what part Armand had to play in it all, but he knew it would not be the last he would see of him.

"And breaking news, a battle has broken out in the conference hall at the Parc des Princes stadium in Paris, the location at which Gladiatorial games took place last week. There are mixed reports that alien sympathisers were involved in what could be a terrorist act, while others say alien Mechs were in a clash that left a number of dead and wounded. More to follow."

That was what Taylor had to wake to after an afternoon kip in his suite. The comms unit on the wall was flashing and had been for several minutes, but Jafar had made no attempt to answer it. Finally, Taylor got to his feet and accepted the call, finding General White's secretary at the other end.

"Please hold for the General," she stated.

He appeared a split second later and had obviously been waiting impatiently for a response.

"What the hell is going on there, Mitch?"

"Weaver went off the rails. Released one of Demiran's Destroyers... or whatever they're called in the press conference. It went crazy. Killed him, and did its best to kill me. Got a few civilians and cops on the way."

"Christ," he said, dipping his head into his hands.

"This was supposed to be a PR stunt, and it's a fucking disaster."

He went silent as his mind mulled over the situation and tried to find some answers.

"You sure that's the way it happened? There's talk of terrorism. It'd be a lot easier to explain than our man going psychotic and getting civilians killed."

"That's how it happened, Sir."

"And you, how did you survive?"

"Barely."

"This could put us in a world of hurt. We're gonna have to shift emphasis over to Weaver. He caused this shit, so he can take the blame for it, not like the stupid idiot is around to clean up the mess. Distance yourself from this, Colonel. There's trouble coming with this POW situation. At least we have comparatively few over here."

"So that's it? Dig our heads in the sand. Pretend none of this happened and ignore it all, Sir?"

"Bet your ass that's what you're gonna do. You’re gonna stay there a few days until this situation calms down and then quietly slip out of there. Come back home, have that leave you deserve, and move on."

Sounds like a plan,
he thought.

“We’re gonna chalk this one up to a failed concept and get past it. Less we hear about it now, the better. Report to me when you get Stateside.”

The transmission cut off, and Taylor could not help but feel he’d been ripped off. He’d risked his life and put everything he had into Weaver’s concept, and he’d not got as much as a compliment on his work or a thanks for his efforts.

“Nice to know my life can be gambled on a clever idea, isn’t it?” he asked Jafar.

The alien grunted and seemed to be indifferent.

“Yeah, that’s right. You like fighting, and death means nothing to you. Great.”

There was no response.

“Is there no way to get a rise out of you? Nothing I can do that will ever piss you off enough to get angry?”

“Why would you?”

“Curiosity, maybe.”

The sarcasm was lost on him, and the room was left in silence.