"That really the case, we're in combat till this ends? Not exactly the way I heard it from the General."
"What is planned and the way it goes down are two very different things, Charlie."
"They are when you pick and choose how and which orders to obey," he replied with a cheeky smile.
The other officers of Inter-Allied joined them, and he could see they had already known the news almost as quickly as he had. He glared at them until they finally caved in and admitted it.
"Friend of mine in the 5th told me we were heading to Italy a few hours back," stated Jackson.
"Well nice to know somebody is kept in the loop."
"What do you mean?"
"We're heading for Italy merely to sweep and clear the coast and then hold there to ensure the enemy does not cross the Mediterranean in any great numbers."
"For what reason? Shouldn't we be hitting them now while they're in disarray?" asked Ota.
"Damn right, but that's not our call. Grab your gear, and be sure you're ready for a prolonged deployment because we're heading east to sweat to death in the baking heat."
"Hell, after almost dying in that cold and fighting through it last time, it'll be a pleasure," replied Jones.
Taylor turned and walked away, signalling Jones to join him.
"I'll remind you of that when we're slogging it through the desert; when your lips are cracked, and your vision starts to blur. You'll pray you were up to your ears in snow again," replied Taylor.
"Well, aren't you a merry one this morning?"
"I just don't like this. This is a gamble which could cost us dearly."
"You think they'll get established and have a foothold on Earth?"
"Yes, they pretty much managed it before. I can't help but feelour people are hoping if we leave them alone, they'll fix up their ships and just take off."
"You think are that naive?"
"Yes, I do. I know they are."
It was not far from midday by the time the 2nd Inter-Allied had assembled on the strip. The dead and wounded from the day before had been removed and taken care of, but much of the wreckage still lay about the scene; spaceships as large as frigates had been forced to put down on any spare ground and wouldn't be moving again any time soon. Much of the base was beginning to look like a scrap yard, and like a scrapyard, mechanics were salvaging any parts they could from the wrecked craft to get going what they could.
The smell in the air was still of burnt electrical components where pulses had done so much damage to everything which had returned. Jones approached, and he still wore the battle-scorched armour that took the impact and saved his life in the Stallion the day before. Only his uniform had been changed and was almost new.
"You seriously going to wear that thing?" asked Taylor.
"Hey, if this isn't lucky, what is? I'll have some techs do repairs when we get the time, but this armour is staying right where it belongs."
He wasn't going to argue. The fact they werestill breathing was astonishing. He didn't want to tempt fate or risk losing the cast iron morale his unit were so famous for.
"This leader of theirs, Demiran. He seems to be pretty pissed with us. Seems to me he'll go to the ends of the Earth to end us."
"Seems so, what about it?"
"Reckon he was the one who attacked Red 1 and forced us to leave Chandra behind?"
Taylor was quiet for a moment. He wasn't going to admit he’d had the same thought, for such personal revenge could destabilise the unit. He knew all too well what the effects of getting personal were.
"Yeah, I suppose there is a good chance."
"Mmmm."
"What?"
"I'm just thinking what I'm gonna do to that bastard when we finally meet."
Taylor rested his hand on the Captain's shoulder.
"Now you remember what happened last time, when we took down Karadag. You disobeyed my orders, and you compromised us all with your anger and frenzied attack."
Jones dipped his head in shame.
"If we get a chance at that son of a bitch, we're gonna do it right, you hear?"
"Sure thing. I was a wreck back then. I wasn't thinking straight."
"I know, forget about it. It's been and gone now. Important thing is we toasted the bastard."
Taylor could see Jones was deep in thought once again.
"What is it?"
"You know how we feel about Demiran, how much we all want our revenge. Surely he must feel the same for the death of Karadag. After all, they were more than just allies. They were family."
"True, but let's not forget who started this fight?"
"And if the circle of revenge simply continues one after the other for both sides?"
"Well, I guess we'll just have to kill enough of them that it ends."
"It's not a bad idea."
Genocide? Taylor thought.
He'd never considered it a possibility for a civilized people, not until now. He turned to look at Jafar, reminding himself of what the aliens had the potential to be. He tried to humanise them to keep his own humanity.
"Enough of this, it's time."
"No send off speech by the General?" asked Jones.
"No, he's busy arranging resources for the next wave. If this year-long preparation really is as he suggests, then they have a whole lot of work ahead of them."
"Why though? Why not just amass everything we have and go in now? Hit them before they can establish themselves."
"I suppose nobody wants to gamble with the whole World. To take them on we will need a vast army, with all major powers in the world contributing. Imagine if that failed. Imagine 1943, and the allies threw everything in against the Germans and lost. Just try and imagine the World if that had happened. I may not like this strategy. It shows a caution we are not used to as field officers, but it is right for the human race. Who could make that gamble?"
Jones was taken aback by his assessment and gave it some real consideration and reflection.
"Yeah, that's a reality kick in the head."
Taylor laughed.
"Don't worry about it, ain't gonna happen."
"Guess it's your time for a speech then?"
"Haven't I given one already?"
Jones shrugged his shoulders. Taylor turned to the Battalion who were formed up with all their gear, awaiting orders. He was all out of speeches.
"Load up and be ready to kick some ass!"
"Go, go, go!" Silva shouted, as they stood stunned for a second.
The troops turned and rushed for the ships. The Deveron was reserved for Taylor and Jones' Company. Two other ships lay alongside Ryan's. They were both civilian freighters designed for high-speed haulage across the globe. Neither were armed or armoured in anyway.
"Better hope we don't hit any trouble in the air," said Jones.
"We'll be fine. The enemy is probably still in a complete mess, and we have been guaranteed fighter escort when we cover the Atlantic."
"Just as well," replied Ryan, "because our guns still aren't working either. The chips and electronics on our missile bays are fried, and the gun positions got hammered during the last couple of fights. Just be thankful that at least we have speed on our side."
"Compared to what?"
"Compared to those rust buckets," he replied, pointing to the other two ships.
"Is this really the best they could get for us?" asked Jones.
"At this short notice, I guess so. The proper kit is probably being reserved for the big operation."
"In a year? Get real. We've been given the junkers."
"Hey!" yelled Ryan."The Deveron may be a little rough right now, but she's still the best ship operating inside the atmosphere, and don't you forget it!"
Jones shrugged in an apology as they stepped up the ramp. Taylor slapped his hand on the fuselage as he passed through the door.
"Yep, this girl has done us proud."
Taylor followed Ryan up to the bridge. He had gotten so used to long distance travel in space that he had begun to think of setting up home, but Italy was just a few hours away by air.