“Figures.”
“Seems like you have created quite a stir.”
“And you, what do you think?”
The man looked surprised to be asked his opinion at all.
“I…I don’t know. I wanted peace for my country. Beyond that, I don’t care. If people want to watch fighting on TV, then let them.”
It wasn’t a particularly helpful response.
“So, look here a second,” Taylor said, pointing to Jafar.
“This is Jafar, an alien, a good friend of mine, and worth more than a platoon of fighters from most armies in the World. Do remember he is an alien? What we are saying here is, he is really no different from one of us. He fought for us, lives with us. Would you have him fight to the death in the arena and be butchered like an animal?”
The barman looked confused and sheepish.
“I don’t know. It’s not my place to say.”
“But it is! Watch the TV. It’s public opinion which is deciding what we should do next.”
“Maybe, Monsieur, but are you sure anyone really cares about public opinion that much?”
It was food for thought. The report was still on going, and the barman continued to translate for him.
“They are saying it was an alien who got loose at the stadium and caused many deaths, and that local authorities subdued the creature.”
“Local authorities?” Taylor laughed.
“They say there are growing calls to eradicate all remaining Krys on Earth, in an attempt to remove the threat to the public. Apparently, a number of leaders have signed a charter pushing for it at the UEN.”
“Shit, this is really kicking off.”
They heard a bottle smash at their side, and three angry looking locals approached.
“How’d we know this one wasn’t in that stadium killing humans?” one asked.
“He was there all right, saving lives.”
“I don’t like Krys, and I don’t like enablers like you. You’re a disgrace to our race.”
Taylor had heard enough. He drew his pistol and fired a shot through the man’s leg. He cried out in pain. His leg gave way, and he dropped to the floor, screaming in pain. The other two men went to move forward but stopped, finding themselves staring down the barrel of his gun.
The rest of the room had silenced, and all that could be heard were the man’s screams. Everybody was too shocked to go to his aid immediately and could only stand in amazement at what had happened.
“Monsieur, please, that’s enough,” pleaded the barman.
Taylor knew that anyone else from his unit would have held him back, but Jafar simply stood and waited for a response from the rest of the crowd. Mitch knew it was an extreme measure, but he had become sick of the constant harassment everywhere they went.
“You know everywhere we go we have to put up with the same assholes. Doesn’t matter what country, what city. Does nobody care that this alien fought on our side, that he was vital to our efforts in defeating them? That you can sit here today and enjoy your drinks because he was at my side fighting?”
There was no response, though a few lowered their heads in shame.
“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.