What an asshole! Taylor thought, walking off in disgust.
Chapter 3
It was close to evening when Taylor finally got to his home on base. As he approached the door with his key card in hand, it slid open. Parker stood at the entrance to greet him. She no longer wore the uniform of a marine. She was dressed as a private contractor in military style but non-unit specific gear fatigues. She looked curious for a moment at the bruising on his face.
“Should I ask?”
“Probably not,” he took her in a firm embrace and lifted her off her feet as he carried on through the doorway.
“So how’s life treating you in the private sector?”
“Can’t complain about the pay. Few more years of this, and we can live wherever we please.”
He seemed surprised.
“You think I should follow after you? I thought you loved the Corps?”
“But I love you more, and if I can’t have both, then you know what I’ll choose.”
He sat down wearily on the sofa, and she sympathetically grabbed a beer for him.
“Come on, let’s not make it about this again. You know I’d have stayed if there was any way.”
Taylor knew it to be true. Since the war was over, there was little chance of them getting away with their relationship any longer with the way things stood. But half the time it felt like he’d lost another comrade-in-arms.
“Looks like you gave more than a talk out there.”
He smiled in response.
“Just some idiots at a bar.”
“You keep doing that and you’re gonna be in some real trouble.”
“Really? What are they gonna do? They need me.”
“For now, but you're not going to be young forever."
"Yeah, thanks."
Weaver had threatened his existence in a similar manner, but coming from someone he loved gave him pause for concern. Fatigue was setting in and the realisation that he really hadn't had much sleep. He knew his body would appreciate the rest, for it was bruised and battered. It wasn't long before he was out for the count.
As the sun rose, he woke to find Parker beside him. It brought a smile to his face. That smile was lost as he noticed a flashing light on the comms screen on the wall, an incoming message.
Can't be from anyone I want to hear from, he thought.
He started to move which got protests from Parker as she groaned and tried to keep him put.
"I gotta take this."
"Right now? You're on leave."
"Yeah, but I already caused enough trouble lately. Let's not invite more."
"Mmm," she finally agreed.
He stepped up to the console and tapped it for the message to begin. He'd expected video, but there was only text. It was from General White's personal aide with orders from his superior. It simply read 'Report to General White as soon as you read this'. It was an ominous message of the sort he'd not expect from the General.
"What is it?" asked Eli.
"Looks like leave is cancelled."
"What? You only just got here," she protested.
"Tell me about it."
She crawled out of bed and stood behind him with her arms over his shoulders.
"You must plead your case to the General. You've done enough."
He turned around in surprise.
"Out of the Corps, and already you’re no longer thinking like a marine. We don't bargain with our superiors. If we are called upon, we are there one hundred percent. How would we have won this war if marines chose whether to report for duty?"
She shook her head. "But we're not at war, are we? You can't keep doing this. All we did during the war was look forward to a life together and away from it all, but where are we now? Worse off than ever."
He had no answer for her because he felt the same.
Maybe it’s time to give it all up.
He'd never admit it though. He didn't rush to respond to the message. An hour later, he presented himself for the General. White was close to retirement now, and Taylor didn't look forward to the day he was replaced.
As he walked into the room, he could smell a mix of furniture polish and whiskey. He entered with a smile, but it was removed when he could see the expression on White's face. He had the look of a man who to give someone bad news and hated having to do it.
"Morning, Sir," said Taylor.
He smiled in response but did not speak, gesturing for Taylor to come in casually and sit before him.
"Now I know you were due some R&R, Mitch, and I can't think of a man more deserving, but these orders come from above my head.
"Spit it out, Sir."
"Your fight with that Mech the other day has caused quite a stir. I can't say I liked the idea, and I can assure you I had no part to play in it. However, we cannot shy away from the fact it is now a global phenomenon. The video has gone viral, and they love it."
"And why should we care?"
"Your work now is to publicise the Corps and provide a positive recruiting role model for the next generation. So we may not like it, but you just single-handedly won over millions of people in a couple of minutes, doing nothing more than you were trained to do and have been doing for years."
"You don't really want to keep that circus going?"
"If the method works, then I can live with a lot. You remember what it was like after the last war ended. Nobody wanted to know about the Corps or signing up for future conflicts. This has struck home and is getting people thinking about it on a daily basis. This is exactly what we need to get some damn enthusiasm. Hell, almost nobody wants to sign up anymore. We lost massive numbers in the wars, and as many again who retired or found some other path out. Do you know how many thousands of marines we have lost to PTSD and who will never return to duty?"
"I think I know better than most," Taylor replied sharply.
The General sighed in response. He didn't like locking horns with Taylor. Neither of them wanted to be discussing the subject, and yet they knew it was their duty to do so.
"So whoever is running this, what do they want from me?"
"Another fight."
He knew it would be the answer, but he still gasped.
"Haven't I fought enough for this country...this planet?"
"And that is why they want you, in France. A guaranteed safe bet. They want someone who can do this, without risk to themselves and the people who they associate with."
"You talk about fighting the Krys as if they are helpless animals to be put down. Have you ever come to blows with one, General?"
He shook his head. "I am glad to say never."
"Precisely. Even without any weapons, they are highly dangerous opponents who should not be toyed with."
"Then don't toy. Go in there like you always do, and get the job done."
They were both quiet for a moment. Taylor could see there would be no getting out of it.
"And what if I left the Corps?" he asked.
The General's face sank in surprise and horror.
"Why on Earth would you think of doing that?"
"I am entitled to. I have done my service, and then some. I can put in my papers and be out of here before the month is through."
"But why? Not because of this fight? What is it you want? A rise?"
He shook his head.
"Then what?"
"To not have to put up with this bullshit. To not have weasel little bastards like Weaver breathing down my throat, and being pulled around like some puppet to give crappy displays for an unappreciating public who want nothing more than to see blood. This is not what I signed up for, and not what we fought for!"