"Genetic material?"
"Armand's head. It has everything they need to know, and we get to retain a live specimen."
"That abomination should be put down," Jones snapped.
"I can understand your feelings on the matter, Captain, but the survival of that clone is essential, the only living proof of Krys clone technology."
"On that note, I have to bring it up, but how do we know they cannot clone any of us?"
"The official word from Rossi is we just don't know. However, Captain Jones spent considerable time as a prisoner of the enemy involving experimentation we never fully understood. Her educated guess is that they require substantial genetic material to replicate, and, or physical access to the subject."
Another load of maybes, great, thought Taylor. He looked to Charlie as they discussed the darkest time in the Captain's life, but he seemed completely disassociated with the subject.
"Taylor, you understand what is going on here better than almost anyone. I trust in you to get the point across and reinforce it with the evidence supplied to you. I wish you every luck."
Taylor nodded in agreement and left. It was one of the shortest briefings he had ever attended, which was especially bizarre, considering the importance of the endeavour they were about to embark on. As they walked away from the brief, Taylor looked to Grey. He had become his right hand man since Jones had been gone.
"Assemble the Regiment."
"Everyone?"
"Yeah, at the drill square."
"Yes, Sir," he replied and hurried off, yelling commands through his comms channel.
Parker seemed surprise at the order and looked to Mitch for answers.
"If whoever goes on this mission doesn't return; it is important that the Regiment goes on as we intended."
"Regiment? When did that happen?"
"It's a long story, Charlie, but don't get your hopes up. It's a title awarded only in name and to give us some independence in our operations."
"What's the current strength?"
"About two hundred, give or take considering recent casualties."
"Two hundred? Not even close to battalion strength."
"Like I said."
Corporal Herrera and Silva took a pace forward simultaneously.
"That's four."
As he said, it Acosta leapt forward enthusiastically. Taylor could see he was trying to make an impression and had jumped before he had thought, but he liked that.
"Five, good."
He looked over to the copter crews who were milling about together at the edge of the circle.
"Last one needs to be a pilot to get us there, just one. We cannot spare the number for a co-pilot. Who'll it be?"
"Well, hell," said Rains. "Only one of us is crazy enough to fly you, Colonel."
He knew Eddie would be the man for the job.
"All right, that's it. I want you all to know what we're doing here and what's at stake. We have a chance to end this war, with proof of Krys involvement being the catalyst of it all. It could all end tomorrow. Or we six could be dead, and the war goes on anyway. Should that happen, Grey will have command of the Regiment and Sgt Parker will receive an immediate field commission as Grey's second. That will be my final orders should we fall, have you all got that?"
They grunted in approval.
"I said have you got that?"
The response that came was a mixed mess of "Aye, aye, Sir!" from the marines and "Yes, Sir!" from the British soldiers amongst them. It brought a smile to Taylor's face.
"Okay, then. We've got an hour till we depart. For those coming with me, grab your gear and be ready to move. The rest of you, you're under Captain Grey's command until I return. Fall out!"
Parker came right up to him with an amused expression.
"So all it would take for me to get a commission is your death? Seems a reasonable price," she jested.
Taylor passed off the comment; his mind was too focused on the seriousness of their situation.
"If I don't come back, you must step up and be the officer this unit needs. Inter-Allied has been a key driving force in winning the wars we have had to suffer through, and it must remain so. The World looks to us for inspiration, for courage, and for resolve. If we have none, where does that leave the World?"
"But you're not gonna die, you can't."
He took her hands.
"Yes, I can. We all can. But this Battle for Earth is about more than one man. Remember that."
"Not for me it isn't," she replied.
He put his hand to her cheek, realising she truly meant it.
"You're coming back from this because I need you."
"Then I'll make it back."
His hand slipped from her cheek, and he stepped past to join the volunteers who were awaiting him.
"All right, this is a peaceful meet...supposedly. But let's just try and remember when we've ever met an enemy and got away without a fight?"
None of them had an answer.
"I want everyone in full gear. Be sure to carry a full complement of ammunition and grenades, including flashbangs, and carry a replacement load in the copter. Eddie, there are just six of us, so you're gonna have to be geared up and ready to use a rifle at a moment's notice. Not like you haven't managed before."
"Ahh yeah, I fly, I fight, I do everything, jack-of-all-trades, you know?" he replied with a grin.
"Make sure to load up smoke charges on the copter and have the door guns fitted and ready to be used if we need them."
"You expecting us to fight a whole war by ourselves?" asked Eddie.
"If need be. The rules of this encounter are no more than six personnel and one copter. That's it. Within that framework, I want every contingency we can manage."
"What about the nose guns? I can control the fixed positions while I fly, but not the chin at the same time."
"I can do that," Jones said.
"Well, right then," replied Eddie.
"Good, now remember, no matter what happens, nobody fire anything unless fired upon. We cannot risk this going to shit," said Taylor.
"We know who we're expecting to meet?" asked Silva.
"Negative, and neither have they been told who will be sent from our side."
"So what are we expecting here, for you to lay out the truth for them and what then?"
"In theory?" asked Taylor. "I lay out the facts, hand over Armand's head for them to further investigate, and they go away and make up their own minds."
"His head?" asked Silva.
"It's a long story."
"Well, okay then."
"That's about all there is to know. Lastly, if it all goes to shit, and we become scattered, it is each man for himself. We're on the border and close to friendly units. Make your way west, and be sure you have your ID cards with you to get back over our lines."
They were all content there was nothing else to ask or say, but no one was happy about the scenario. They were fighters, not negotiators or delivery boys.
"Okay, you know what you have to do. Gear up and get ready to move."
It was five minutes to the hour when Eddie was making his final flight checks around the craft, and the others drank a last coffee before embarking. The General's personal vehicle rode into view and came to a halt beside them. Dupont leapt out with a few of his staff. One carried a square sealed medical box that they knew would be the head they were to deliver. It felt both bizarre and barbaric to be delivering a head to the enemy, but Taylor accepted it was the job they had been given.
The box was handed to him. He took it and passed it on to Acosta to carry. The Private took the box with some suspicion and held it uncomfortably. Clearly, the idea of transporting a severed head made him as uncomfortable as the rest of them.