Battle Earth VIII (Book 8) (14 page)

"My timing is always impeccable, is it not? Stay put and do what you can to get the wounded out of here," he added.

Taylor retraced his steps to Anders. She was lying sprawled out against a pile of debris. For a moment, he thought she was wounded, but she turned to face him as he approached. She looked exhausted, both physically and mentally.

"I don't know how much more of this I can take," she whispered as he grew nearer.

"You'll do just fine. Are you in charge here?"

She nodded. "Nobody else left for the job. Only officers who aren't dead, wounded, or missing is the Lieutenant over there and myself."

"You've done a hell of a job to keep it together."

He could tell it meant a lot to her, but she tried to pretend it didn't.

Before he could carry on, he looked down at a small light flashing on the display of the Mappad on his arm. It was an incoming call. He quickly tapped to answer and found Dupont before him once again.

"Taylor, how are things there?"

"Bad."

"They are all over. At least you haven't given any ground. The south is faring much worse. Can you redeploy to assist down there?"

"I don't think so, Sir. Not much left to defend this city, bar a few stragglers. Without us, it won't hold."

"That's not the kind of news I need."

"Tell me about it."

"Can anyone else hear this?"

"Affirmative."

He got the message and walked over to a quiet spot.

"You can talk freely now, Sir."

"The honest truth, Taylor, is that we are in trouble. Big trouble. We're stretched thin, and the UEN just keep hitting us. The Mechs are what are making the difference. They're advancing and taking ground without any fear. Their losses are high. We keep knocking 'em down, but more come right back at us."

"Well aware of that, Sir," he replied, thinking it was strange it even needed saying, considering he was on the frontline and witnessing it with his own eyes.

"What do you want me to do?"

"Stay put, do what you're doing. I'll see what I can do in the south."

The communication cut off, and he strolled back to the Captain.

"Something wrong?" she asked.

"Nothing you don't already know. Keep your chin up, Captain. Think like a winner."

He carried on back to Jones. Most of the casualties were gone or being moved as he approached. Taylor slumped down beside him and reloaded his rifle.

"Any news?"

"Nothing good, Charlie."

"Well, what is it?"

"South is taking a beating. Dupont wanted us to head down there and help."

"We can't leave here. It'll fall before we even get to the south."

"That's what I told him."

Jones shook his head, and as he so frequently did when there was a lull in the fighting, drew out his small stove to brew up. Taylor couldn't help but laugh; as he was reminded of the last time he had seen Grey do the same.

"What's so funny?"

"Ah, nothing, nice to see some things never change."

Jones carried on making his brew when Taylor finally asked what he'd been meaning to for a while.

"Any news on Dubois?"

He nodded. "She's gonna make it, but she won't be joining the fight anytime soon."

"Good, she's been through enough."

"Haven't we all?"

As he watched Jones prepare his tea in his ritualistic fashion, they suddenly became aware how quiet the scene was. Gone were the sound of tracked vehicles, of explosions and screaming wounded. There was barely a sound left. Every single boot step could be heard for thirty metres around, and despite being in the middle of a warzone, Taylor felt calm and relaxed, even peaceful.

"Strange isn't it?" he asked.

"What's that?"

"How quiet it is out there."

"Yes, but don't get too used to it. It won't last."

He was right. There seemed little hope of holding the UEN back. Now all he could hope was that his appeal to the World's population would make a difference.

"Incoming!"

A huge pulse of light soared through the sky and struck a building no more than twenty metres along from Taylor. It burst through and struck the road behind. Screams rang out, and as he looked up, he could see a few walking wounded stumbling around. He saw five dead in the crater that was left. They were just like the pulse artillery they saw the Mech armies use. Jones looked as horrified as he did when another two pulses smashed into their positions.

"Take cover!"

He jumped into the corner of the building he had been using as a firing position and huddled into a corner with Jones as low down in the structure as they could get. They knew all they could do now was hope for the best. The ground shook all around them, and they counted several dozen impacts smash their position. Finally it was over.

"Look!" someone cried excitedly.

Taylor couldn't believe anything good could be in sight, but he got up anyway. Hundreds of craft were soaring through the sky, but they were not coming from the east.

"Those aren't UEN," Jones said, standing up beside Taylor.

Mitch lifted his rifle and zoomed in the scope for a better look.

"My God, they're British."

Jones had to see for himself.

"Can't be!"

"It better be," replied Taylor.

A wave of ground attack craft smashed the enemy positions a few clicks east, and they could just make out troops dropping into the fight after them. A dozen craft came their way and put down out in the open plain of crippled vehicles and dead troops.

"Everyone stay put!"

Several of them looked at him puzzled.

"I want to know their intentions before anyone breaks cover!"

Five troops came out of one of the copters. An officer stood between and walked confidently towards Taylor's line. It was Commander Phillips.

"Colonel Taylor!" he called.

"Yeah! What's the deal here, Sir?"

"We just joined this war. We're in this together!"

Taylor couldn't believe his luck. He’d wanted it to be true from the moment he saw the aircraft but had become wary of getting his hopes up. He stepped out from the hole in the building to greet the Commander.

"You look like hell," said Phillips.

"I'm used to it."

"I'm sorry we couldn't come in on this sooner, Colonel, but we're here now."

Jones stepped out to join them, and Phillips looked astonished.

"Well, I'll be. You came back to us? What on Earth did Taylor have to promise you to get you back in the fight?"

"It doesn't matter," he replied, "but I am back for good."

"So what now, Sir? Whose command are we under?"

"Honestly, I don't know. The United States still will not accept your position in this whole damn thing. The British elements of your unit had to go AWOL, just as you did, but I've made sure everyone who matters has turned a blind eye to that. Far as I can tell, you're an independent Regiment under the guidance of General Dupont."

The two of them were as much stunned, as they were pleased.

"Anyway," Phillips carried on, "the British Third Army is tasked with retaking the elements of Northern France under occupation. I am en route to meet with General Dupont to liaise with him in person, if you would like to join me, your whole Regiment that is. You've done enough for now. Let our boys shoulder some of the hard work."

"Gladly, but Captain Anders here has had it far worse. I request they get immediate assistance and relief."

"I'll sort it on the way and see you shortly, Gentlemen," he said, paced back aboard his copter, and it lifted off.

Taylor looked over to Anders, and rather than looking relieved she was in utter shock, having gotten a few moments of peace to reflect on the devastation.

"The fight if over for you, Captain. You did a damn fine job."

"With these losses? How can it be a fine job to have to return home with so few?"

He knew the feeling, and there was no way to make it hurt any less, so he left her to be alone with her thoughts.

"Good luck, Captain."

He hit his comms unit.

"Inter-Allied is moving out. Get the birds here ASAP."

He never thought he'd give the order. Only a half hour ago they were locked in a desperate stand to hold the city.

"With the British in the war, it'll make a hell of a difference," said Jones.

"It will, but not enough, I fear."

"You know we haven't had orders to return to Meaux?"

"Whether we have or not, we're going."

Acosta was pacing up to ask a question when blood suddenly spewed out of his neck and over Taylor’s face. A gunshot echo followed soon after, and Acosta dropped into his arms.

"Sniper!" Jones bellowed.

Taylor hauled Acosta over into the cover of the ruined building beside them and could see he was suffocating as blood gushed out. Mitch put pressure down on his neck, but the blood seemed to spill out through every gap in his fingers.

"Stay with me, Private. Stay with me!"

He coughed and spluttered. Finally, he went limp.

Taylor went white in shock, looking at the fallen marine who had barely even reached manhood. His shock turned to rage, and he wiped some of the blood off his trousers and picked up his rifle and shield.

"That bullet was coming for you," said Jones.

"I don't care!"

"Well you should!"

"I'm gonna get that son of a bitch!"

"That shot came from a klick south away, easy. That's a lot of ground to cover."

"Come with me or don't, but I won't let that fucker live."

Taylor rushed out from cover with his shield held before him and darted over the road to cross over to the next street. A bullet struck the ground just a metre from him as he did so. Jones knew he couldn't let Taylor go alone and rushed on after him.

"Everyone stay put!" he ordered as he rushed after the Colonel.

A shot struck his shield as he covered the open ground. After he got to the other side of the road, he could see Taylor had kept on running without any caution at all.

"Goddamn it, Mitch," he muttered.

He barely saw a glimmer of movement up ahead and chased on after him. He got to a corner and could see nothing at all, but he had no choice but to continue on. He ran on for a full five minutes when he felt an arm grab him by the shoulder and pull him aside. A bullet ricocheted off the wall where his head had been. He breathed a sigh of relief to see it was Taylor.

"This guy is good," said Jones.

Taylor nodded.

"He's come for you, you know that, right? Acosta took that bullet for you."

" I know," he replied, sadly.

"Seems everyone wants a piece of you these days."

"That's nothing new."

"But where did this come from? That video you put out must have really made someone mad."

"They're starting to realise I'm gonna tear the UEN down, if I have to do it with my bare hands."

"So how do you want to play this?"

"Far as I can tell, the shooter is on the ground floor in an apartment building at the end of the street. It runs down our side here."

"Ground floor?"

"I don't know why, but he must be. He's firing on a completely flat trajectory. Trouble is, there ain't no cover getting across the street to him, and it's a long way round."

"Rush him?"

"No, that's a high power rifle. Our shields will only take a few shots from that thing." He point to the buckling of Jones' where it had been struck.

"Shit," he replied.

Taylor pulled out his only smoke grenade from his webbing.

"Smoke the street."

He pulled out a flashbang.

"Then we flash, in case he's got thermal equipment. Then we rush and hope for the best."

"Sounds like a plan."

Taylor ignited the smoke and launched it out into the open street, and Jones did the same. They waited twenty seconds for it to spread and fill the area, and then Taylor launched a flash out into the smoke as far towards the building as he could. He knew the smoke would reduce the effect of the flash, but he had to hope it would be enough to a sniper looking through a scope.

The flash popped, and the sniper recoiled, his eyes burning, and he pulled the trigger. The shot went high, and Taylor knew they were in business. He rushed out from cover and sprinted across the street. Jones could barely keep up and watched his silhouette through the smoke. Taylor launched himself through the window where the sniper had been.

He crashed into the apartment like an elephant and rolled into the furniture, smashing everything in his way. He was on his feet in no time and could see the sniper trying to heave around the huge rifle to fire at him, but it wasn't quick enough. Taylor leapt at him, barging the man with his shield. The sniper hit the wall and bounced off. As he did, Taylor brought up his knee full power into the man's head. He was instantly knocked out cold.

Jones arrived just in time to see Taylor dragging him back out through the wall feet first.

"Human?"

"I wouldn't bet on it, Charlie."

"I just expected, you know, a Mech."

"A Mech sniper sent to kill me? No. They needed a man for this job, and I'm willing to bet any money, he'll ping going through our scanners."

Taylor dragged him the full klick back to the Regiment where the others were boarding the copters. He could see two of them carrying Acosta's body, along with more than ten other casualties they had taken in the bombardment.

"You got the bastard," Silva said. He was overseeing the boarding.

"Damn right."

Silva looked at him more carefully.

"I thought you would have killed him."

"No, no. He's gonna suffer much worse in time, but I want info out of this son of a bitch before then."

Taylor dragged the sniper aboard Rains’ copter. He looked less than impressed.

"He even human?" asked Rains.

"No way."

They were in the air moments later, and Jones could see the despair in Taylor's face. They had lost many friends over the years, but somehow, the loss of his youngest marine hit harder than most.

"Hell of a marine he was," said Jones.

"Damn right," replied Taylor.

Landing in Meaux, they could see it was a hive of activity, though so much of the movement was medical vehicles, personnel, and those wounded coming and going. Taylor stepped off the craft, and he turned back to Jones, handing out his orders as he walked away.

“Get them re-equipped and ready to go again within the hour, and see if Reiter has got those web rounds yet.”

“Ready? No chance,” replied Jones.

“Just do it!” Taylor snapped and continued on.

He was obviously taking Acosta’s death hard, and the success of the web rounds would keep his memory alive.

He stepped into Dupont’s war room with Acosta’s blood still splashed over his filthy armour, but despite several other officers taking offence at his attire, Dupont himself didn’t even seem to notice.

“Taylor, good work in the north. You shored up that flank just when we needed it. As you know, the British have finally come in on this war,” he said, pointing to Phillips.

“Took you some time to catch up after I left you,” said the Commander.

Taylor sighed. “Sniper tried to take me out.”

“You personally?” asked Dupont.

“I believe so. Took out of one of my boys instead. This is his blood.”