"Always us, isn't it?" asked Parker from behind them.
"Yep," he replied. "That's why we were put on this earth."
They got to the door they had entered the facility from, and Taylor took note of the subtle x-ray frame of the corridor just as Dupont had said.
"Hell of an idea that. If any Krys human can be identified that way, we may have hope yet."
At the doorway was a line of troops from the base being ushered in through the scanners one at a time, and clearly oblivious as to the reason why. They were being led into briefing rooms, most likely the explanation they were given as to being there.
Taylor stepped out into the warm light of day and saw a sight he could not have expected, but always hoped for. Captain Charlie Jones stood before them in fatigues and armour, ready to go.
"Well, well. I guess the farm life isn't for you, after all, Charlie."
"Got that right," he replied.
"You back for good? Back to join the Inter-Allied Regiment. The rogues who are AWOL from their prospective home countries?"
He nodded in agreement. Taylor couldn't believe he had made it. After their last meeting, he never imagined the Captain returning to service and leaving his new life behind.
"Damn good to have you back!"
Chapter 3
“Cheers!” called Grey.
They lifted their glasses high and then threw back the French cider. It was, course, acidic compared to anything Taylor had been used to getting back home, but it went down smoothly after the long day they had all experienced. Taylor was surprised Jones had not done the honours, but he was a different man to the one Taylor had once stood beside in battle. He couldn’t blame Charlie for feeling the way he did, now that they were once more serving so close to where he had once been imprisoned by the invaders.
Taylor looked over to Eli, and a beaming smile stretched across her face.
Is this what it takes? A new war to brings friends back together to enjoy themselves?
Taylor was starting to wonder if he was born for war, as he seemed to be incapable of wanting any other venture.
He was deep in thought and reflection when Eli began calling him, and she had to yell his name a few times over the chatter. Finally, he turned to look at her, and she was curious as to where his mind was. She leapt out of her chair and rushed over to sprawl out over his lap, spilling a little cider over his as she did.
“First night in a while we can enjoy ourselves, and you look so serious. What’s up, Colonel?” she asked casually.
“Nothing that you don’t already know. I am merely taking in all that is before us. It is great, is it not? Having everyone back together?”
“I never thought you so sentimental?”
Taylor shook his head.
“No, you never appreciate what you have until its gone, do you?”
She only smiled in response.
Within thirty minutes, the two were falling into bed after just a few drinks, all that they could allow themselves while danger remained so close. Exhaustion overcame them, and they were asleep within minutes.
Taylor arose with the sunrise to find Eli was still in a deep sleep. It amused him to watch her for a few moments before reaching for his uniform. It was the best rest he had gotten in weeks and stepped out of his quarters to feel the fresh morning air on his face. The war hadn’t reached Meaux. At times it was easy to forget they were once more in a state of war. Mitch began to pace through the base, for no other reason other than to take a stroll.
But after a few blocks, a sight that was a grim reminder of their current situation, the base hospital, hit him. Engineers were busy fabricating temporary structures beside it to quell the overcrowding that had already begun. He stood and watched two light armoured vehicles roll up to the hospital. They were battle scarred, and Taylor quickly took interest, recognising the unit markings as those belonging to Dubois’ unit.
He’d no idea if she had returned to service or not, but a feeling in his stomach made him fear it so. The crew of the vehicles leapt out and pulled the wounded out from the rear doors. One of the casualties had the slender female figure that matched her description.
He rushed forward to check, but he already knew it would be her. As he approached, her face came into view, but she was not moving. He didn’t want it to be her, despite already knowing it was. Somehow, he hoped he could wish it away, but as he stepped over, her face was unmistakeable. He looked up to the crew and the medic who were carrying her.
“How is she? She gonna make it?”
“They all seemed to recognise the Colonel, but he didn’t remember meeting them. The medic shook his head.
“We can hope. She’s taken a lot of shrapnel and is in a bad way.”
She writhed a little, and Taylor finally noticed she was at least still breathing. She looked up for just a moment to see and recognise Taylor, trying to reach for his arm before passing out.
“Do not let her die!” he yelled.
They rushed on into the hospital, and he shook his head in disbelief. He lifted up his comms unit.
“Jones, I need you ASAP.”
No response came.
“Somebody find me Captain Jones, and contact me ASAP!”
He looked around and suddenly felt helpless. His old friend had finally returned to them, and he knew this could well break him. “Shit,” he said to himself, sitting down on a small wall outside the hospital. He had no idea what to do with himself. He waited for ten minutes and had still not received contact from any of his unit. He was getting frustrated and lifted his comms unit.
“Where the hell is Jones? Somebody speak to me.”
Grey finally responded.
“No sign of the Captain, Sir.”
Taylor shook his head.
“Well where the hell is he? Keep looking and get him to the hospital quickly. He needs to be here!”
He rushed into the hospital to find Dubois. One of her comrades guided him into her room where he could look in. It reminded him of the time he’d stood watching over Parker when she had been wounded early on in the first war, and he remembered how tough Dubois was.
A doctor stepped out from the room to address him and two of her comrades who stood beside Taylor.
“She will need some surgery, but she is stable. You can have a few minutes with her, but please keep her calm.”
“Thank you,” he replied, stepping into the room.
Dubois was weak and barely able to turn her head and speak.
“You’re a sucker for punishment,” he said. “Every time a war starts, you go headlong into it and almost get yourself killed.”
“That’s rich,” she whispered, “coming from you.”
It brought a cautious smile to his face.
“You’ll have Charlie sick, if we can ever find him.”
She nodded a little in agreement.
“He’s here one minute and gone the next. Always was the same.”
She looked confused.
“Here? When?”
“He got here yesterday afternoon. He’s signed back up with us. Best thing that’s happened since all this kicked off.”
She shook her head.
“No, no,” she said.
Taylor was confused by her comment and tone.
“What is it?”
“He is not here. He would not go and fight again.”
“Maybe he changed his mind.”
She shook her head, coughing and trying to get her breath.
“I spoke to him last night. He was at home on the farm. He begged me to return.”
“Hate to tell you, but he was here drinking with us.”
She shook her head once again.
“No, on video, he was at the farm.”
Taylor almost stopped breathing, beginning to piece together what she was saying. Jones arrived out of the blue and was the only one in the Regiment who hadn’t been cleared by the x-ray scanners.
Taylor opened his mouth to speak but wa
s interrupted by an alarm sounding throughout the base.
“What is it?” asked Dubois.
Taylor turned to her two comrades. You stay here and look after her. If you see Captain Jones, you approach with caution and arrest him immediately, you hear?”
They didn’t understand, but they did accept the command. Taylor rushed out of the room as quickly as he could and burst out of the hospital and across the two blocks to the research bunker where the alarm had originated. Two guards were rushing for the door, and he quickly followed them. He had no weapons or armour on him. It took a minute for the guards to get through the security door.
As they entered, one ran through a pool of blood emanating from a soldier who lay dead with her throat cut. Taylor stepped over and knelt down to take a closer look. As he did, he spotted another body with a blade embedded in the eye socket.
“What the hell happened here?” asked one of the soldiers.
“We have a traitor among us, an enemy agent. Get to the research labs, and secure Rossi and her staff. I’m heading for the cells.”
“Why?”
“Just trust me.”
Taylor stepped over to the other body and was glad to find a pistol still holstered. He grabbed it and the two spare magazines on the fallen soldier’s belt before carrying on down the corridor. Civilian staff members were running past in fear and pointing the way he was going to tell him where the attacker was.
How quickly things can go to shit, he thought to himself.
He carried on with nothing more than the sidearm he had recovered. When he arrived at the cellblock, he found another dead guard and a trail of blood going through the open doorway to the cells. The fallen guard had been shot this time, in what was clearly becoming a hastier situation.
Taylor's instincts had quickly cut in, but he was still rolling it all over in his head and trying to make certain he was right about the scenario. He stepped through the doorway, hoping to find nothing but knowing he would. He knew all but one of the cells were empty, so he headed directly for Armand, but as he turned the bend to get to the cell door, he found Jones helping the former Councillor to escape.
Armand had to hop and be dragged because the damage to his kneecap was substantial. It meant they were making little progress.
"Stop!" Taylor ordered.
He had the pistol raised high and could see Jones was armed just the same; BDUs and a pistol he'd picked up from a body. Jones snapped around and fired two shots. The first went wide, but the second would have met its target had Taylor not leapt back behind the corner where he’d come from. Mitch took in a deep breath, realising how naked he felt without his armour. It had saved his life more times than he could count, and now a single shot could end his life.
"I know who you are, Jones!" Taylor shouted.
It seemed strange to call him that, but he couldn't think of what else to say. This seemed like all the evidence needed to know this Jones was a Krys agent, but he still wanted to hear it from his lips to know for sure.
"Then why didn't you shoot me?"
"To give you a chance to surrender. Lay down your weapon and give yourself up!"
"Why, so I can be a lab rat like Armand here?"
"That or I put a bullet between your eyes."
He went silent for a moment and thought about it.
"You couldn't kill me, your oldest living friend."
"But you’re aren't him, you just look like him."
"You've lost this war, Colonel Mitch Taylor. You've won a few battles, but you could never win the war. This planet is infiltrated beyond your understanding, and it'll fall around you in a flash."
"Yeah, well, we'll see about that. I can't let you take Armand, and he isn't fit enough to run, so what'll it be?"
There was silence for an uncomfortable ten seconds where all Taylor could hear was the alarm still ringing in his ears. He dared not sneak a peek around the corner. He knew how good a shot Jones was. Finally Jones replied.
"If I can't have Armand, neither can you."
As he said it, a small explosion erupted nearby from beyond Jones' position. It was too coincidental to not be Jones who was the cause. He cautiously looked around the corner, and Jones was gone. A man-sized hole had been punched in a wall at the end of the corridor, and Armand's body lay lifelessly between him and the breach.
At first he couldn't understand why Jones had left his fellow Krys agent behind, but as he closed the distance, he understood. Blood spewed out over the floor where Armand had been decapitated. His head was gone; containing the only evidence they had uncovered which identified Krys agents.
"Shit!"
He rushed to the breach in the wall and passed through without any care for his own life. He knew that evidence was more important than anything on the entire base. A trail of blood spots continued on up another corridor that he quickly followed. Two gunshots rang out in the distance, and he already knew that would be another friendly down.
What is this shit? Friends are enemy agents. This could end us.
He carried on and found the body of one of the French guards, just as he suspected. The man was still breathing but couldn't move.
"Where does this lead to?" asked Taylor impatiently. "Where is he heading?"
The soldier could barely breathe or speak, but just about summed up enough energy to point onwards and mumble the word 'hangar'.
Fuck, he's gonna try and fly out of here.
He knew the chances of him making it across the border were slim, but if they were shot down en route, all evidence of them would be destroyed anyway. Taylor knew if they got airborne it was a ‘win win’ for the Krys. He picked up the pace and stormed down the corridor, without a care for anything in the world except for stopping Jones. He knew at any moment he could be ambushed but took no caution at all. He could not afford to.
The corridor opened up ahead of him as the Frenchman had said. He burst out into a small hangar that stored just three small craft; highly agile and fast hexrotor transports with power turbines derived from alien technology. They seated half a dozen at the most, and Taylor realised they must have been there for rapid evac of VIPs. A fact that might get them over the border, free and clear.
The engines were already fired up and the massive blast doors in front of them sliding apart. Taylor had just twenty seconds before he'd lose them for good. He looked to the cockpit and could see Jones looking down at him with a triumphant smile. It was bizarre and incongruous to be coming from a man he'd considered his closest friend for so many years. He had to keep telling himself that it was not Jones.
Taylor raised his pistol and fired two shots at the glass, but both bounced off with no damage. He quickly turned his attention to one of the turbine engines and fired two shots through, but they ricocheted off as well. He looked around for anything that could make a difference and saw the mechanics tool rack. He grabbed the largest wrench he could and launched it into the turbine. It crunched and bounced around inside the engine before being tossed out the back to little effect.
He looked out to see the doors were almost open. There were just a few seconds left. Then to his side he noticed huge chains hanging from a hoist, presumably designed for lifting large component parts. He grabbed one of the chains and rushed to the craft. The hoist swung over on its mountings overhead, and as Jones upped the power to move, Taylor launched the chain into the turbine. As it struck the fan, a huge piece of metal flew from the engine and narrowly missed Taylor's head. He recoiled back and fell to the floor.
He watched in amazement as the thick chain was pulled through the engine until it went taut and ripped the hoist from the ceiling. The huge electronic pulley system crashed down onto the turbine, crushing it in one and ripping part of the fuselage off the craft as it did so.
The turbine caught fire for a moment. The aircraft's emergency systems cut in, and all power was reduced, and the fires put out by its inbuilt extinguishers. The noise finally died down, and Taylor could see the craft was
beached and utterly useless. Jones still glared at him from the cockpit. He had no choice now but to confront Taylor personally.
"Only way out is through me, you son of a bitch!" yelled Taylor.
He got to his feet and took cover behind a mechanic’s workstation and slammed a new magazine into his pistol. A few seconds later, the door to the craft slid open, but there was no sign of Jones. Then a gunshot rang out, and Taylor ducked down as it hit the top beside him. It hadn't come from the door of the craft. He looked out around the corner and saw as another gunshot rang out that it was coming from the hole that had been ripped in the fuselage.
Taylor took a few paces along to change position and then jumped up to fire a few shots, but he could not tell if they met their target. Three shots were returned at him, and he ducked down once again. In this instance, time was on his side. Any time now he hoped for a swathe of soldiers to rush to his aid, and yet they hadn't come yet.
Two more shots rang out, and then all went quiet. Taylor waited for a moment before carefully looking over the edge to see Jones' silhouette in the doorway of the craft. He stood square on with no care for cover and his pistol lowered.
"I'm out!" he called.
"Tough shit!"
"You won't shoot me, Mitch. You couldn't shoot an old friend!"
"No, I couldn't, but you’re not him! Jones never came back to service. Your secret is out!"
"Ah, well, can't win 'em all."
Taylor found it unnerving how much this Krys agent sounded and acted like Jones. He watched from cover as Jones threw his pistol away onto the ground and stepped out onto the deck of the landing area. Mitch rushed out with his pistol held at the ready. He could see Jones carried the head of Armand in one hand and a bloodied knife was stuffed into his belt.
"Maybe you won't kill me for looking like him, but you will not kill me because I'm the only living clone you know."
Taylor couldn't help but agree.
"So I'm going walk to that next ship and fly the hell out of here."
Battle Earth VIII (Book 8) Page 4
