Battle Earth VII Page 8

  “No one else here feels that way, but you can’t just go shooting people,” said the barman.

  “The people wanted to see blood. They got blood…I never wanted this. All I wanted was to go home and get on with my life, but at every turn there’s an asshole like this. Enough!” he screamed.

  He knew he was losing it, but he could not help himself through the anger he felt towards so much of the World that had turned on him and his friend because they were no longer needed, because there was no longer a war to fight.

  Sirens rang out in the background; the local police were bearing down on the establishment. Taylor necked the beer and walked out with Jafar at his back. Two police cars slid to a halt, but the officers relaxed when they recognised the two of them.

  “We’ll handle this,” said one and allowed them to pass.

  “Nice to still have a few friends,” he replied.

  At least that wouldn’t make the news, he thought.

  They returned to his suite. Taylor knew it was the only place they would remain trouble free as the General had ordered. Another day passed, and they tried to find anything to do to pass it. The stadium grounds were their prison for now, but they made the best of the space they had. Running, training, watching TV; it was all they had. On the morning of the second day, they were in the field grounds at one end away from the arena Taylor had fought it. They’d dug out a baseball and bat, and Taylor was throwing curve balls that Jafar was hitting so hard, they occasionally cracked the protective screens around the arena where he was aiming. It was all they could do for another few days until they could get out of there. Just when they thought they’d been left alone to pass the time, Taylor heard his name shouted.

  “Colonel! Colonel!”

  One of the Gendarmes he’d seen in the conference hall during the fateful event with the Destroyer was rushing towards him.

  “Great, what now?” he muttered.

  “Sir, I think you should see the news.”

  Taylor lifted his Mappad, switched on the projection display, and hit the shortcut to the World News Agency. The screen was filled with protest banners and scenes of mass crowds.

  “Where is this?”

  “At one of the prisoner camps in North Africa, but there are scenes like this at another dozen locations.”

  “What do they want?”

  “To exterminate the remaining alien prisoners on the planet.”

  “What?”

  “Can’t say I blame them, Sir. Those things are fucking dangerous, save your friend here.”

  He continued watching the news broadcast for a few minutes in amazement as the anchor continued to appraise the situation.

  “While opinion is divided on the subject, it is up to the UEN now to come to some agreement on the subject of the alien prisoners. Pressure has mounted over coming years on action to take, but the UEN is yet to implement any initiative beyond maintaining the Prisoner of War camps. Many people around the World are beginning to question if money and resources should be allocated to an enemy which once tried to destroy humanity.”

  “This is gonna get ugly,” said Taylor.

  The day continued much as the previous had. Nobody seemed interested in reaching Taylor since the debacle at the stadium, that or they simply didn’t know how. Taylor took off his uniform and lay down on the ridiculously oversized and lavish bed in his suite. He dreaded waking up the next morning. He knew trouble was coming, and there was no doubt he would be drawn into it.

  As the sun rose, he awoke naturally. For a moment, everything seemed peaceful. The World hadn’t ended, and he’d caught up on some much needed rest and recovered from his minor injuries, but the pleasant morning wouldn’t last. A chime rang to signify somebody at the door, and Jafar was quick to answer it. It was almost as if the alien had defaulted to being his butler and manservant, a situation he was not comfortable with.

  The door slid open, and the same Gendarme who had delivered yesterday’s news rushed in.

  "Sir, I really must warn you. Crowds are gathering outside the stadium and protesting your presence."

  "What are their intentions?"

  He shrugged his shoulders.

  "Thank you for your concern, and please keep me notified of any further developments."

  The man nodded in agreement. Taylor wondered why he was delivering messages in person rather than through comms. He wondered if he was going outside of his job parameters, as he rushed out as quickly as he had come in.

  "I don't like the sound of this at all."

  He turned back to the news channel. A Spanish politician was being interviewed, and the topic was clearly the Colonel himself, for a picture was projected behind the news panel.

  "What do you think of Colonel Taylor's latest condemnation of the treatment of the alien prisoners after having so recently brutally killed them for entertainment?"

  "I think the Colonel is most mistaken in his apathy for these monsters. Maybe he is disillusioned with the bloodshed, or maybe mentally scarred from all that he has seen. No one can deny his great efforts during the war, but Taylor is very much that, a war machine, one which should stay out of politics."

  "Strong words, and now onto Miss Patricia Nowak, a key representative in the Earth for Humans movement. What's your feeling on Colonel Taylor's surprise comments in Paris that have sparked so much controversy?"

  "The Colonel’s comments were way out of line. He of all people should understand the threat these invaders pose, and while he may have been a hero a few years ago, people change. His latest actions are those of a coward."

  Taylor cut the transmission off. He couldn't listen to it any longer.

  "How quickly they turn on you," he whispered.

  He felt helpless now that they were shut away in the stadium. Then he remembered Armand and shuffled through his pocket to find the Councillor's card. He pulled out his Mappad and slipped it into the reader. His credentials came up and were immediately authenticated. His hand hovered over the contact button. A man he'd never met, and he was going to reach out to him for, well he didn't know what.

  "What the hell," he said and put the call through.

  Taylor was surprised to see Armand's face. It was a direct line to the man personally.

  "Colonel Taylor, what can I do for you?"

  "I'm not entirely sure, but you must be aware of what's happening in the World. Something has to be done, and no one Stateside is interested."

  "Stay put, Colonel. I'll come to you."

  Taylor was surprised at the response and speechless for a moment.

  "That...would be great."

  "I'll see you shortly, Colonel."

  The call ended, and Taylor put the news back on. He hated having to watch it but knew he had to stay abreast of everything that was happening. More scenes of protests filled the screen, and a reporter was being shoved around as she tried to talk into the camera.

  "I'm here at the entrance to the Gafsa Prisoner of War Camp in Tunisia. Home to as many as ten thousand enemy soldiers, it is one of the larger prisons, and as a result, a massive draw to people calling for an end to their lives. Around five thousand protestors have gathered here so far, with more arriving every hour. People are calling for something to be done, but the authorities are nowhere to be seen, in a standoff which is looking increasingly dangerous for all involved."

  Screams rang out, and Taylor heard the sound of two gunshots in the background. The camera turned to show a protestor fall from one of the perimeter fences. The video shook around as the crew tried to get closer and managed to get a partially obscured view of the man getting to his feet and looking in pain.

  "It looks as if non-lethal ammunition has been authorised to be used against anybody who makes an attempt on the perimeter of this massive complex. Attempts are also being made to sway incoming pilots bringing in supplies to turn away, of which we have seen a few do so. Everyone here is looking for the authorities to do something. I am now hearing reports that pro-life alien s
ympathisers have also started demonstrations nearby."

  "Look at them," said Taylor. "At each other's throats, and over what?"

  "They are right, though. You can't keep that many enemy soldiers locked up forever."

  "What would you suggest? We can't free them. They are the enemy. We can't kill them. That would be barbaric. And we can't send them home, as even if it was logistically possible, we can't return troops who would likely be sent right back against us."

  "Death is the kindest option," Jafar replied quickly.

  He was starting to see it wasn't as simple a problem to sort out as he first thought.

  Death does indeed seem like the answer, but it’s also the kind of genocide humanity has fought so hard against.

  "Can we not sway them to our side, or at least live in peace, like you and I?" he asked.

  Jafar looked highly doubtful.

  "Would you risk it? A potential army let loose in the World in order to keep your conscious clean?"

  "So this is it? The answer is to become like them and commit genocide so that we can live the lives we want to? I don't accept that."

  A minute later, Armand was at the door. Taylor was surprised he could get there so quickly. He could see no reason why he'd been at the stadium unless he had been waiting for his call.

  "How can I help you, Colonel?"

  "You must have seen the news."

  "Yes, and very disturbing it is, too."

  "It's time we did something about it."

  That tweaked the Councillor’s interest, and it almost seemed as if he'd been waiting for days for Taylor to come out with such words of his own accord.

  "As part of my duties in the UEN, I have been asked to head to Tunisia to some of the worst of these protests, and see if I can do anything to quell them peacefully. Having a famous face such as yours by my side could make all the difference. Your comments on TV have gained substantial support. Maybe not with everyone, but enough."

  "And you think a marine could calm the environment down? It's not what we're intended for."

  "I think you have forgotten your true purpose, Colonel. A marine fights for peace, not the continuation of war."

  "Mmm," he muttered in response.

  "Things are looking bad in North Africa. Will you give it a shot, and come with me or not?"

  Anything to get out of here.

  "Yes."

  "Great, then there's no time to lose. Let's move."

  He really has been waiting for my call.

  Armand led them to the stadium grounds where a ship awaited them. It was a luxurious yacht and far from the simple military vessel the Deveron was. He seemed to be whisked away into yet another world he was unfamiliar with.

  It was a short journey to Gafsa, and as they approached, Taylor could see a swarm of people at the perimeter walls. They flew right over the masses of civilians and came down to a landing pad just inside the walls. As the engines powered down, they could already hear the screams of the crowd even through the reinforced glass.

  “This ain’t gonna be easy,” said Taylor.

  “If it was an easy job, I’d not have got you on board,” replied Armand.

  “That’s reassuring.”

  They headed down the ramp out into the warm open air where the crowd’s roars drowned out almost everything. A small party that was armed greeted them on the landing strip, including the prison warden, an army officer of the rank of Lieutenant Colonel. He instantly recognised Taylor and was uneasy in how to take his presence.

  “Lieutenant-Colonel Spiteri, I hope you boys have some answers here because this is becoming a real shit storm!” he yelled.

  They could barely hear him over the sound of the heckling crowds.

  “Follow me!”

  They did as he asked, and Taylor leaned in to Jafar.

  “Why do we always end up in the shit?”

  “Because you volunteer us,” he replied.

  Taylor wasn’t sure if he was being straight or exhibiting sharp wit, but it made him laugh, either way. They passed beyond several guards into an operations room where the rest of the Colonel’s staff were largely standing around with nothing to do, except talk among themselves. No one even called them to attention as the base commander entered, and it was already clear to Taylor that it was run as a very loose ship.

  Spiteri beckoned for them all to join him and the newcomers at the operations table, which was blank. It was an indicator of how little they had done in any efforts to quell the problem.

  “Gentlemen, this is Councillor Armand who is here to oversee negotiations with the protestors. As a representative of the UEN, he has complete access to the site and is accountable only to me. Colonel Taylor of the US Marine Corps is here as an advisor to Armand. I expect you to extend all courtesies to the Councillor and his associates. Right, now down to business.”

  A live satellite projection displayed on the table, showing both the vast breath of the prison, as well as the shocking large numbers of protestors which were gathering.

  “The number of protestors is growing at an incredible rate. When it first began, we expected them to become tired in a day of the heat without supplies, and pack up and leave.”

  “Why hasn’t that happened?” Taylor interrupted.

  “Because of the aid they have been getting. Shuttles deliver supplies on an hourly basis, bringing them food and water, instant shelters, and mobile toilet and shower blocks. Somebody with big money is keeping this going.”

  “Or many people with a lot of money,” Taylor added.

  “It’s sad but true,” said Armand, “There are sizeable numbers opposed to what is going on here who would be willing to pour money into other’s pockets to oppose it for them.”

  “And people used to protest against people being kept in these kind of prisons,” muttered Taylor.

  “That’s right, Colonel. They protested about people being locked up, but this is an entirely different story. If you hadn’t noticed, aliens exist and want our planet,” said Spiteri.

  Taylor wondered if the man knew who he was and his history in the wars, but before he could ask, attention was turned to the elephant in the room.

  “And please can someone tell me what the hell he is doing in uniform, and with a US Marine?”

  One of Spiteri’s men leaned in and whispered in his ear.

  “Okay, so you’re that Taylor, a war hero. Well, let me tell you, I saw plenty of combat in the war myself, and I would never in a million years let one stand beside me and call a comrade.”

  “Be thankful I am not you then, or we might not have won this war.”

  Tension was getting to boiling point in the room, and no progress was being made, but Taylor didn’t travel there to make idle argument.

  “The local government must be doing something to alleviate the troubles here?” he asked.

  Spiteri shook his head. “I wish. The war destroyed the populace in this area, one of the reasons it made such a good prison. A few thousand have moved back into a nearby town, but they are little more than a frontier site, like something out of your history. A sheriff and his deputies trying to manage the locals; they can’t do a thing to help here.”

  “And the UEN?”

  They all turned to Armand.

  “The UEN is willing to consider deployment, only if wide-scale violence is a likely possibility. Besides that, I am all that you’re gonna get.”

  “And what are you worth?” asked Spiteri. “Can you talk this horde down and make them go back home and forget all of this?”

  “I’ll give it a shot.”

  “A group that says they are in charge out there has been calling for a representative to meet with them for the last few hours.”

  “Good, that’s a start.”

  “I’m not going out there, and I won’t risk my men doing so.”

  What a fucking hero, Taylor thought.

  “Fine, I’ll go out there. Two of my bodyguards, and I’ll take Colonel Taylor with m
e.”

  “And what about his…friend there?”

  Armand looked over to the towering alien and then over to Taylor.

  “We can’t take him. He’ll only pour gas on the flames. He can stay here. I’m sure Colonel Spiteri will ensure his safety.”

  Taylor almost laughed but held himself back.

  Not his safety you have to worry about.

  He nodded for Jafar to stay put, and it was a message clearly understood as he paced out into the blistering sun with Armand and his guards.

  “You really have a plan here?” he asked.

  “It’s all just a game, Colonel. Hear what they have to say, and find a way to oppose it.”

  “Not really a negotiation, is it?”

  “That’s exactly what it is.”

  The inner gates opened and shut quickly behind them. They were sealed off from the base now, with only four of them soon to be heading out into an angry mob.

  “We’re coming out to negotiate!” Armand shouted.

  “Not with weapons you’re not!” one replied.

  They looked out at the overwhelming odds. He looked back to Taylor for an answer and saw the Colonel shaking his head.

  No goddamn way.

  They stood there silently until the protestors at the gate accepted it was the only way they would see some progression. The gates slid aside, and they stepped out into the hostile crowd who seemed as if they wanted to kill the four of them as much as the aliens inside.

  They were led through the crowd, hundreds of men and women who glared at them as if they were criminals. Taylor hated the way they peered down at him.

  The only reason you’re alive today is because I fought for you.

  But he fought the desire to say it aloud with all his fibre.

  They eventually reached a structure. Internally, it was not so different to the operations room he’d recently left. A dozen men and women stood around a table, planning and discussing their actions.

  “More like a military operation than a protest,” he said to Armand.

  “That’s right, Colonel!” one of them replied, overhearing him.

  “And you are?” he asked

  “My name is of no consequence. You can call me X.”