Battle Beyond Earth: Retaliation Page 15

  “You speak of what you are willing to give, and yet you never have. Bolormaa will come, and she will destroy all that she wishes, some of us, most of us, maybe all of us. I am not willing to step aside and let somebody else choose our fate. Not someone so sick and evil, because that is what she is. She is no queen. She is a savage creature who needs to be put down like the monster she is. And the more that people like you support her, the weaker we will be. I am just glad the fate of the human race lies in better hands than yours.”

  Taylor got up and walked out of the view range of the camera feed. He heard Weir ranting as he left. He stepped out of the door of the room and stopped to take a deep breath as he tried to calm himself.

  “Well that went well,” said Jones.

  He found the Lieutenant smiling back at him.

  “Hey, I said I would give it a shot. I never said I was a public speaker.”

  "You did great," said Alita.

  He looked beaten.

  "No, you can't reason with people like that. They shouldn't even be allowed airtime. That asshole could do more damage on TV than ten divisions of Morohta warriors."

  "I am sure people aren't naive enough to fall that drivel," said Alita.

  "Then you don't know people well enough. Weir is giving them a way out, a way to do nothing. To not have to work hard, not have to fight, and to slacken off. That is a very appealing idea to a great many people."

  "But it's not an option at all. Bolormaa will come here and kill or enslave them all."

  "Yes, but the fantasy he is peddling. It doesn't matter how true it is, only that people believe it."

  "So what do we do?" Jones asked.

  Taylor shrugged. "If I knew the answer, then I would already have done it. We can only hope that I got through to at least enough people to make a difference."

  "You don't seem convinced?"

  "I have just seen all this shit before. It's far easier to do nothing than something."

  "What if they are right, though?"

  "What do you mean?"

  "What if Weir's assessment is right? We did awaken the Morohta from a long dormant state. Perhaps they feel threatened. Maybe they never wanted this war anymore than we did?"

  Taylor laughed.

  "Really? Not you, too. You have seen what the Morohta are capable of. They have no interest in peace and negotiations. They have had plenty of opportunities for that if they really wanted it."

  "I'd just like to think we have exhausted all other possibilities, because we both know how difficult this war is going to be to win, and even in victory the price will be higher than anyone can imagine."

  "I can imagine quite a bit."

  "Just promise me we are doing this for the right reasons. To survive, and not just because you don't know any other way but to fight."

  His words were worrying him. Weir's assessment of his first encounter with the Morohta had gotten to Jones.

  "You listen to me. The Morohta have had every chance under the sun to end this. They fired first after not being threatened in any way. They attacked us without reason. Hell, they attacked the Cholans without ever having encountered them before. Don't fall for that fanatic’s bullshit. He is making you doubt what we are doing, and that doubt can get you killed."

  Jones seemed to agree, but his confidence had taken a beating.

  "So what now?"

  "That was a start, Alita, but we need to keep at it. More interviews, we must make our voice heard louder than that toxic asshole."

  "I thought you hated all this PR stuff?"

  "I do, more than anything, but I am also willing to do what needs to be done. Tomorrow we go back at it, and we aren't going to pull any punches. Tonight we rest and we talk about how we move forward, and tomorrow we go back to the ANN with a story that will tip the balance in all this. Come on, we have much to talk about."

  The day and night passed quickly as they exchanged ideas over drinks at the beachfront that had become their new home, but the next day was soon upon them. It was 9am local time. Taylor stood looking out to sea, contemplating all that he was about to tell the world.

  "It's time."

  Alita was smiling at him. He was fresh and felt ready to take on the world. And yet he was doing so without armour, and not a weapon to hand but his sidearm. He shouldn't even be carrying that, but nobody dared ask for it.

  "You ready for this?"

  The three of them walked on to the ANN news station for his interview to be done in person with one of the agency’s news anchors. As they reached the door, they found two armed guards that they must pass.

  "Your weapons, please," one of them stated.

  "Really?"

  "Alliance rules."

  Taylor didn't bother arguing. He had no energy for it. His mind was focused on just one thing. He drew out his pistol and fed it into a slot in the wall, where it was passed to more security officials inside. The guards looked at them from head to toe as if they wanted to pat them down, but Taylor walked past without stopping, and they didn't press the matter.

  "You happy with this now?"

  He shrugged.

  "Alita, I'll make it work."

  "You know they could throw anybody at you, right? It could be Weir again."

  "Yeah. It's a fight. I get it. You can't always know what is going to come at you, but if you stand your ground and fight like hell, you can make it through."

  "You never were much of a politician, were you?" Jones joined in.

  "Never wanted to be. I'd rather leave the talking and backstabbing to someone else, but who is there? Separatist elements are trying to tear us apart. Weaken us from within. I wouldn't be surprised if Morohta agents themselves are behind it all, and gullible people have simply been drawn in along the way."

  "That's a pretty cynical assessment."

  "It's just a theory, but tell me you don't think it's plausible?"

  Jones seemed to dwell on it for a moment, as if it made him question the doubt Weir had sewn.

  "That's right, not always so simple, is it?"

  They passed a number of staff hurriedly running about the studio entirely ignoring them. They finally reached a woman in a suit who was waiting to greet them.

  "Ah, Colonel Taylor, thank you so much for coming in. I am Sana Andrews. I run the station here. Please, come with me."

  She was a sharp dresser, clearly confident and older than she looked. She led them to the studio set where to their surprise they found Sienna Mitchells waiting for the interview.

  "What? What the hell is she doing here?"

  "Sienna? After your last interview there were widespread calls to get you back on air, and Sienna is our star. She is the most highly regarded and loved news anchor on Earth."

  Taylor was well aware of the fact, and that’s what made him suspicious. Sana turned to the other two.

  "Please, if you'll follow me to the control room, you can watch from there with me. You'll be getting front row seats to one of the hottest debates on Earth."

  She looked genuinely excited, but that did not impress Taylor. He was expecting to make a point, not entertain a crowd. As the others were led away, he approached Sienna. She was extremely pretty. As he got closer, she turned and smiled to acknowledge him. She leapt up from her chair to give him a hug and kiss him on the cheek. It was overly friendly, and he wasn't particularly impressed.

  "Thank you so much for coming, Colonel," she said still beaming with a huge smile.

  He was trying to fathom out whether it was entirely put on, or just partially.

  "Not like I had far to go, you came to me," he replied.

  "Yes, well, we go where the news is."

  "Really? Not like you seem to leave your studio often."

  She looked a little embarrassed.

  "No, but normally the guests come to us. In this particular case, we were told that it was impossible for you to leave the islands. You didn't give us much of a choice."

  "Believe me, if I could leave, I
would."

  "Oh, really?"

  He could tell he was being baited for information now.

  "But that is classified information, and it will not be permitted to even be mentioned in any way on air, you hear?"

  "Yes...okay."

  "You make up any reason you like why you are in Hawaii, but it has nothing to do with me."

  "Okay, we are ready to go live in just a few minutes, if you could take your seat."

  They both took up positions at the desk before an army of cameras, but just a few crew. Cameras zipped back and forth on tracks along the roof in front of them, and there was a huge digital countdown on the wall in front of them. The room was ten metres square, and as the door shut, it became completely soundproofed. Not even the cameras sliding on their gimbals made a single sound. All he could hear was Sienna's finger tapping the desk in front of her as she mentally prepared herself, much like he would do before combat.

  Neither of them said a word as he watched the countdown. Sienna studied some notes before her. When it reached ten seconds, she looked up at the screen and prepared her smile to meet her worldwide audience. It was now dawning on him that he was about to be thrust onto the international stage. It hadn't really struck home before. When he was in a small room on a small video feed, it felt like nothing. But in a studio with the Alliance news agency’s top news anchor, it felt real, and more than a little intimidating. He watched her take a sip from a glass of water. The counter reached its last few seconds, and he knew that was it.

  "Hi, I'm Sienna Mitchells, and I welcome you to this Special live from beautiful Hawaii. Joining me here in person today is the man himself, Colonel Mitch Taylor."

  He smiled and nodded as she gestured towards him.

  "We are here to talk about the ongoing crisis with what has become known as the War to end all Wars."

  Taylor smiled just a little, for he had heard that so many times before.

  "So, Mitch, you took a bit of a beating from the PAAC representative Jonathan Weir when we had you on air yesterday. Jonathan raised some valid points, and you had some fiery responses yourself, but we were cut a little short. Have you got any message for Mr Weir before we continue?"

  "I've got nothing to say to that man. I cannot change the mind of such a mindless zealot. All I can ask is that the general public, all of your viewers, think for themselves. Look at the bloodthirsty path of destruction the Morohta have cut all the way to Earth, and understand that if you want to stay safe, stay alive, and stay free, you must resist this enemy."

  "By this enemy you mean Bolormaa, not Mr Weir?" replied Sienna with a smile. She meant it as a light-hearted joke, but Taylor was not amused and carried on before she could get in another word.

  "Anyone who fights to diminish the war effort is fighting against us, and should be stopped. Jonathan Weir is a danger to the safety of this planet, and the Alliance altogether. Freedom of speech and a democracy is not a just reason to allow such dissent that it endangers us all. Ask yourselves, when the Morohta savages are in your towns, and in your homes butchering your loved ones, how sympathetic will you feel towards his cause then?"

  Sienna looked stunned by his bleak and bloodthirsty assessment.

  "I am sorry, Colonel, but there are families out there watching this show. If you could please keep this from becoming gruesome."

  "I will not! If people want to bury their heads in the sand and hope for the best, then that is their call. But it is my responsibility, as a free man, to tell all that I can exactly what will happen if we let worms like Weir distract us from the real threat at our door."

  She looked shocked to have been shot down by one of her guests, and her confidence was knocked.

  "Well...umm...okay, moving on. We are here today to discuss the Alliance's continued stance towards the Morohta. An increasing number of groups and representatives from around the world are calling for peace at any cost. Joining us here today is a key representative and advisor to President Isaacs, Pedro Vargas."

  He was projected on a seat opposite Taylor so that it almost seemed he was actually in the room. Taylor felt his fists clench. He had expected some fair and reasonable address to the press, but he knew he wouldn't get it now.

  I have to stay calm, or Vargas has already won the debate.

  Sienna continued.

  "Welcome to both of you. So, Mitch, you believe the only way forward is to meet the enemy with strength. Tell us more about why you think that is the best course of action."

  He opened his mouth to speak, but before he could get a word out an explosion rang out, and the door to the room was flung open. Taylor reached for his gun but found an empty holster. Gunfire rang out from beyond the door. A man ran in brandishing an automatic weapon and wearing the cult like clothing associated with the Amitads.

  "Death to the warmonger!" cried the man.

  He fired a burst of gunfire into the air and then took aim towards Taylor. He looked around for anything to defend himself. He reached for the only thing on the desk, Sienna's half full glass of water. He propelled it across the room with all the force he could. It hit the man in the face, but it did not break. He recoiled backwards and stumbled a few steps. He held down the trigger, and the shots riddled the ceiling.

  It was all the time Taylor needed to dart across the room and be on top of his attacker. The gun dropped from his hands, as Taylor landed on top of him and punched him repeatedly to his cloaked face. Each blow struck harder than the last until his fist was covered in blood, and the body lay still.

  Jones walked in through the open door. His hands cupped a stomach wound, and he was bleeding profusely. He collapsed down face first just before he reached Taylor. He jumped up to go to the aid of his friend but was stopped in his tracks. Two more gunmen followed through with their rifles trained right on him.

  "Get back!" one shouted.

  He had no choice but to oblige. They were quite willing to kill for their cause, just as he was for his. He stepped back towards the horrified Sienna who had remained frozen in her chair.

  "It's gonna be okay, don't worry," he said to assure her, but they both knew it wasn't that certain.

  Alita appeared in the doorway with her hands held high and a third gunman leading with the barrel of his gun. Blood dripped from her swollen mouth where it looked as though she had been struck with the stock of a rifle. She looked apologetic, as if she had failed him. She was led over Jones' body and further into the room.

  "Sit down!"

  The two of them were forced to take seats beside Sienna.

  "Are the cameras still rolling?" asked the masked gunman.

  Sienna nodded shakily. She looked terrified.

  "I knew you were full of shit," stated Taylor, "You say you want peace, and yet you come to kill."

  "It is you who must be stopped, Colonel. You are the man who could single-handedly destroy our civilisation by resisting Bolormaa."

  Two of the gunmen moved around to take up position behind Taylor and Alita, as if to act as a firing squad.

  "Weir is a coward and a fool, and you are just his pawns," snapped Taylor.

  But he soon felt the stock of a rifle club the back of his head. It opened up a deep cut, but he remained conscious as the one gunman stayed ahead of them to address the camera. He could see they didn't have long now.

  "Colonel Taylor, you are found guilty of drawing this alliance into a war that has cost the lives of many thousands of Human, Krys, Aranui, and Cholan citizens. You admitted to personally causing the death of thousands of civilians on Reno. You are a menace to society and an obstacle to peace with Bolormaa and the Morohta."

  He noticed that the gunman behind Alita had leaned in close to taunt her, but he could not hear what was said. He only noticed a blade drop from her cuff and into her hand. A burst of gunfire rang out. The leader in front of them dropped to the ground beside Jones. He had taken up the rifle of the one Taylor had killed. Alita thrust her knife up into the neck of the man lurking over her,
and it cut his windpipe.

  Blood burst out over the news desk, and Sienna screamed in terror. Taylor snapped around, grabbed the barrel of the rifle pointing at him, and wrenched it forward. The man managed to keep hold of his weapon but was launched towards Taylor as his gun went off, and a burst of fire struck just millimetres beside Taylor's foot. The gunman hit the edge of the desk neck first and was winded by the impact, but Taylor did not let him off so lightly. He grabbed the material wrapped around the man's head and smashed him down against the edge of the table three times until his head fractured. He then tossed him back down in disgust.

  He looked over to Alita. She was fine, just covered in her attacker’s blood. He leapt from his chair to the aid of Jones who had rolled over onto his back and dropped the gun. He was weak, but still breathing.

  "We made it," Taylor said, as Alita reached him and applied pressure down on the wound. He felt his blood boiling. He was furious. He strode back to the nearest camera and could see somebody was still managing the broadcast.

  "Now you have seen the true colours of Jonathan Weir and the scum that support him. Know that any help you give these terrorists will only weaken us in the coming fight. If you want to go on living as free people, you will withdraw any support for these monsters, and I will show no sympathy for those who do not. Our fighting men and women put everything on the line to protect the security of this alliance, and now one the very best of us lies close to death because of your lack of faith. I won't have it anymore. Know this, if you follow the PAAC, if you enable their ways, if you harbour these terrorists, I am coming for you."

  He rushed back to Jones and together he and Alita lifted him. They carried him out of the door. As they left, they heard a shaky Sienna Mitchells finish her broadcast.

  "I...I am Sienna Mitchells. Thank you for tuning in. We'll have more...more for you soon."

  The corridors were empty now, and they could just make out a few people huddled in corners and under tables. An armed guard lay dead, and they doubted he would be the only one.

  "Well, that could have gone better," muttered Jones in a pained and weak voice.