He pointed to his head.
"I will make sure you have the training you need, but you are the ones that have to have the balls to stand firm and use that training. M590 was a disaster. I am not saying it was an easy situation. It was not. But you lost twelve marines, and that is unacceptable. You lost them because you neglected your training, and that is not your fault, but those who trained you. From now on, that is going to change."
They looked confused.
"From now on, you are mine."
"You are going to be our instructor?" Newman asked.
"Of a kind. The President has tasked me with a mission, and I need support. You're it. What is left of your two squads is to merge, and will form 2nd Squad in the newly formed 3rd Recon. A small, but elite fighting unit with far more duties beneath its belt than fighting."
"Under who, Sir?" Olsen asked.
Taylor looked surprised.
"Me, I told you, you are mine now."
None of them could believe it.
"The Alliance needs more fighters, that much should be obvious. But the situation is more dire than you can imagine. Our job is to rally more to our cause."
"Recruitment?" Benik was surprised.
"Of a kind. Right now Humanity is largely going it alone. We have to reach out to the other races and independent Human elements, too. The President feels that I am the best man for that job due to my previous experience. Well, I can't say it's a job I wanted, just like I didn't want you lot. But those are our orders. Any questions?"
Most were stony faced; knowing Taylor would be a hard taskmaster.
"Sir, who is leading our squad?" Benik asked.
"I am." Menard strode in behind Taylor. He was back in uniform and fitted with a prosthetic limb. Newman was glad to see the Sarge back, but also disappointed to be losing his command.
"Sergeant Menard is a veteran of the last war, just like I am, and we need that right now. We need men and women who have been through hell and come out the other side. Those are the marines who will see you through anything. Now I know what you are thinking, two corporals in your squad and a sergeant at your head. Well, get used to it. That is the nature of our lives now, and has been for me since the day the Krys invaded. I was once a Colonel commanding a single platoon, and, well, now I have even less. The experienced among us keep getting promoted, but there are simply never enough recruits to fill the ranks."
"Sir, I heard the enlistment age is being reduced?" Giles asked.
"Those are the President's wishes, yes."
"Sir, do you think that is wise?"
"Frankly, it doesn't matter what I think. It is not my call to make. It is my responsibility to make fighting men and women of whoever is given to me."
"But that's not true, is it, Sir? You've never let the rules stand in your way. If you didn't agree with what the President was doing, you'd tell him. More than that, you'd probably do something about it."
Taylor didn't know how to take it, but he soon smiled at Olsen.
"I like this one," he said, looking back to Sommer.
"I don't know what you've heard about me, but it's not all true, I can assure you."
Olsen clearly didn't believe him.
"Sir, I am confident that you would hold the gun to the President's head if you thought it necessary."
He began to laugh, but she didn't.
"The Colonel has always done what has been necessary, even if it has not been popular," declared Sommer in his defence.
But Taylor didn't need it.
"You know what I do? What every marine should, whatever is necessary to get the job done. We improvise, we adapt, and we overcome. Sometimes that means using unconventional means, breaking laws, sure. I don't expect any different from all of you here. But if you do ever refuse my orders, or do something other than what I tell you, you better have a damn good excuse. But that doesn't mean you should fear doing the right thing either. Things don't always work out, but I expect you to do the best you can with the knowledge and resources you have to hand. Is that clear?"
"Sir, is it not a fine line between doing the right thing and being an outlaw, like CJ?"
Taylor grimaced.
"CJ lives outside the law because he was made for war. He isn't capable of living in peace. Hell, maybe neither am I, but I get by. But I am glad you mentioned CJ. He is one of the targets on our list."
"For recruitment?" Newman asked in astonishment, "CJ is a criminal."
"Yes, he is, and he is also one of the toughest fighters to have survived the war. He was there when we killed Bolormaa. I bet you didn't know that. A fact the Alliance would rather have you forget."
"Truly? He fought beside you against Bolormaa?"
"He did. In fact, as much as it pains me to say it, I owe him my life."
Taylor smiled. They didn't believe him.
"You see, life isn't so black and white, is it? Sometimes you need an ally who on any other day would slit your throat. If I could have had my way, I would have executed CJ the moment I heard he was brought back from the dead like I was. He was a mistake. A freak, and yet we got here today because of him. You don't realize it, but in the closing months of the war, CJ was one of the best fighters we had. We couldn't have done it without him. So don't be so quick to judge."
"Is that not what you did?"
"Yes, and I was wrong," replied Taylor sternly.
That took them all by surprise, but he soon moved the conversation on.
"The Alliance needs men and women to fight for it, whatever that entails. It doesn't need good men and women, just capable ones. There are so few of us left, we can't be picky. We need the best of what's left, whether we like them or not. Now, does anybody have any more questions?"
"Sir?" Newman asked.
"What is it?"
"Will you teach us to fight like you? Like we saw you fight down on M590?"
"Damn right, I will. That isn't optional. The men and women who I lead know that each and every one of them is vital. We rely on one another, and we expect the best from one another. I wouldn't take you in to combat under my command until I was absolutely confident that I could place my life in your hands. You think you had it tough on 590, but you haven't seen anything yet. It's time to get real."
“What happened on 590, that was just an isolated incident though, no?” asked Giles.
“We are going back to M590, and many other worlds that could harbour just as many threats. You need to be ready. We all do. If you are going to serve beside me, then you’d better be up to the task. Until now everyone by my side has been a veteran of the war against Bolormaa. As well as that, they were there, spilling their blood to defeat her at the end. You are joining a company of heroes. That is a lot to live up to, and I expect you to live up to our reputation, do you get me?”
“We get you, Sir!” They roared in unison.
They were excited. Even Benik’s doubts had subsided. The prospect of serving beside Taylor was the dream none of them could ever have hoped to achieve, and now it had been thrust upon them without warning. They could barely believe it.
Taylor holstered his Assegai and took off his belt. He placed it down and took up one of the training versions of the weapon he had held just moments before.
“All of you have been trained to use this weapon, but I am betting none of you took that training seriously. From now on that is going to change. Who thinks they have what it takes to have a shot at me?”
“I do,” Olsen replied without hesitation, unlike the others.
“Really? You think you have the balls for this?”
“No, Sir, but I don’t shy away from a fight.”
Taylor grinned.
“That’s the first good thing I’ve heard since taking command of you sorry lot. Shields!”
They both activated the shield devices on their left forearms. An oval-shaped energy shield flashed before each of them.
“When the enemy you face comes at you without care. They won’t be forced back, they won’t
go to ground, and there are so many you just can’t shoot them down fast enough. When they are going to run right on over you, this is what you will have to hand. So the question is, can you stand?”
Olsen was waiting in a balanced and strong fighting stance. Her feet were well spaced and not in line, her shield held out firmly, and her Assegai cocked back so that it could not be engaged. She looked like an image right out of the Marine Corps training manual.
“You’re not a complete novice? Good.”
Taylor smiled and took up a similar stance. For a moment, he looked calm and calculating, but then he leapt forward with lightning speed. It was a shock to Olsen, but she stood her ground as he thrust forward against her. She parried the blow aside and spun out of his charge.
“Using the enemy’s strength against them is good, but what good is that advantage if you don’t make use of it? Every time you parry a blow, you create an opening to strike your opponent, and you must take it whenever possible.”
He rushed at her again, doing the same as he had previously. She tried to respond as before, but at the last moment he turned, and her void led her straight into his path. The combination of his extra weight and speed launched her off her feet, and she crashed down hard, rolling and smashing up against a wall. Taylor seemed to show no care for any potential injury, despite the others looking shocked. Newman went towards her to help, but she glared at him.
“Don’t you dare! This is my fight.”
She got back up, clearly aching, but shrugged it off, and that impressed Taylor.
“Having some fast moves in a fight can make all the difference, but the moment you become predictable, you are finished, Private.”
She ran towards him with a new aggression, and she was quick, too. She smashed her shield into his and thrust under his lead leg. Taylor slipped it back, and thrust over the shields. But Olsen pushed up and over with the shield and thrust around again. She was coming forward with attack after attack, putting Taylor on the back foot. Once again, she drove the shields high to thrust under, only to find Taylor’s boot thrust into her chest as he delivered a powerful push kick that launched her back.
“Every part of you is a weapon. These are just tools.” He held out his shield and Assegai.
She growled and came forward once again as if angry. Taylor smiled, thinking she was being careless. He lifted his shield to stop her strike, but it didn’t land. She hadn’t been careless at all. She sunk herself low and kicked out his lead leg. Before he could even tell what was happening, he was on his back, and her Assegai coming for him. He was as much surprised as he was shocked by the impact of hitting the ground. It was a feeling he was intimately familiar, having the wind taken out of him from such an impact. The number one thing that always went through his mind in moments like this was to keep moving. He rolled away as her training blade struck the floor and flashed with light.
In no time at all he was on his feet and back in the fight. He wouldn’t underestimate her a second time. He went forward with a new sense of purpose, to end the fight on his terms. She ducked and weaved, but finally as the shields locked, and she looked for an opening, he passed through and wrapped her weapon arm with his in a lock. With his right arm, he delivered a brutal elbow to her face. The helmet took much of the impact, but not all of it. Her knees buckled, and her weapon was released into Taylor’s hand as she dropped.
She was stunned from the heavy blow as Taylor stepped away triumphantly.
“What is your name?”
“Olsen, Sir.”
Taylor put the weapons down and went back to offer his hand, which she was surprised to see. She took it and was hauled back onto her feet.
“Well done.” He turned back to address the others. “Olsen had what it took to give it her all without question. That is the kind of marine you must all be. Maybe some of you are, but when I asked for someone to come forward, she was there like a shot. That is the initiative and the drive I want to see. Now I’d like to say we had a few months to train you, but you know that isn’t the case.”
“Sir, if I may ask, why not?” Newman asked.
“All I can tell you is that our work is vital to the President’s endeavours to save our world. Far more than you realise. Not only that, but time is not on our side. That is all that you need to know. None of you are rookies anymore. You are marines, and you have had your first taste of combat. The fact that you are still alive means you must all have something to offer. We embark in forty-eight hours. You have until then to hone your close combat proficiency.”
“Two days?” Giles gasped.
The new recruits all looked surprised, but Taylor didn’t.
“When war first came to this system, we were not ready for it. We were not training for it. You know what I would have given for a couple of days to learn to use these weapons, weapons that could save my life? The first time I met a Krys warrior in hand-to-hand combat it was almost the end of me. Why? Because I didn’t have the tools or the training to handle that situation, just as you didn’t when you faced those Vargs. Now I am going to make sure you never have to be in that situation again. The next time you lay hands on the enemy, you will fight like wild animals. You will fight the way that every marine had to when we faced Bolormaa. If any of you ever doubted the need for this training, then I hope the loss of your fellow marines has taught you otherwise, a painful lesson that seems to have to be repeated for every generation. Any questions?”
They had none. It was still a shock to them all.
“Your Sergeant is a capable fighter who has never been allowed to give you the necessary training that you needed. That changes now, and he will be supported by Babacan here.” He pointed to the Krys Marine towering over his shoulder.
“How are we supposed to fight Krys with this?” Benik held up the modest looking training Assegai.
Taylor shook his head in disappointment.
“When I had to face Erdogan, do you think I complained that it wasn’t a fair fight? There’s no such thing as a fair fight. It’s true that the Krys are built stronger and tougher than we are, but there is more to a fight than strength, and that is why you need this training. You are scared to face Babacan because he is bigger than you? Well, what are you going to do when it happens for real, break down and cry? Or are you going to stand tall and fight to win? The President says I need you, and that means I can’t flunk any of you. But I don’t have to if you can’t survive training,” he smirked.
He strode out without another word, leaving them hanging on what that could mean.
“Did the Colonel really just threaten death if we disappoint him?” Benik asked.
“He’s killed for less,” replied Babacan.
They looked to their Sergeant for help, but he didn’t give it.
“The Colonel has the reputation he does for a reason. He wants only the best to stand beside him, and I can understand why. You are going to be it, whether you like it or not. I am not going to see another one of you die needlessly.”
“Needlessly, Sir?” Sykes asked.
“We were born and bred for war, for we are the Corps. We stand for what is right. We fight for those who can’t. The President has big plans, and the one reason we would be attached to Colonel Taylor is if those plans were dangerous, very dangerous. What you experienced, losing so many of your comrades, that was horrible, but that was my experience in what seemed like every day of the last war. Count yourselves lucky that you never had to fight through it.”
“That is all we ever hear, that we are lesser because we never fought in that damn war,” complained Benik.
“Because you are lesser,” declared Babacan.
Menard didn’t like the way he’d worded it, but neither did he disagree.
“The marines who came before you were heroes, every one of them. But you can rise and be worthy of standing among them. There is still so much work to be done. You will have your chance for glory, and your chance for death, just as we did.”
“You’re not exactly selling this to us, Sarge.”
“I don’t have to, Gallo. You aren’t kids anymore. You were when you joined the Corps, but not now. You are one thing, and one thing only; you are marines. You know what, there is one thing history has shown without any doubt? That when marines stick together, there is nothing they cannot achieve. Now we have two days to get this training done right. It’s not ideal, but we will make it work, because that is how we do things around here. Pick up your weapons! Line up!”
They shot in to motion even if they didn’t like what they were hearing. The Sarge paced up and down the line. The fingers of his prosthetic hand were clamping down and releasing over and over as he studied them.
“Fighting in close quarters requires a whole different set of skills to using a firearm. It also requires a very different mindset. You have to think quicker. Evaluate the body language of your opponent, and be able to adapt to a range of opponents, weapons, and environments. Benik, step forward."
Benik sighed, and both he and Menard saw the slightest hesitation and annoyance in his face, even though he still stepped forward. But before the Sarge could say anything, Babacan had rushed forward, and beat him across the face with a training baton. Light flashed, and his head snapped aside as he stumbled back, barely staying on his feet.
"What the hell?" he protested.
Nobody dared stand up to the Krys warrior, who made the tallest and strongest among them look like a teenager in comparison.
"Sarge?"
"Babacan is in charge here, Benik, and you will do as ordered."
"But he doesn't even hold rank."
"I am a Sergeant in this Corps, not that you needed to know that. I am here to teach you what you should have learnt before reaching adulthood."
"And what is that?"
"To fight like men."
Olsen chuckled.
"The bravest among you is a woman, and you feel no shame for it?"
Olsen wasn't sure whether to take that as a compliment or not, but she was just glad to not be the one taking a beating.
"Colonel Taylor needs you to be ready in two days. That is an almost impossible task, but we are going to overcome it. That starts now. You do not hesitate, you do not question. Do you understand me?"
Beyond Earth- Civil War Page 6
