Battle Earth VIII

Chapter 3

“Cheers!” called Grey.

They lifted their glasses high and then threw back the French cider. It was, course, acidic compared to anything Taylor had been used to getting back home, but it went down smoothly after the long day they had all experienced. Taylor was surprised Jones had not done the honours, but he was a different man to the one Taylor had once stood beside in battle. He couldn’t blame Charlie for feeling the way he did, now that they were once more serving so close to where he had once been imprisoned by the invaders.

Taylor looked over to Eli, and a beaming smile stretched across her face.

Is this what it takes? A new war to brings friends back together to enjoy themselves?

Taylor was starting to wonder if he was born for war, as he seemed to be incapable of wanting any other venture.

He was deep in thought and reflection when Eli began calling him, and she had to yell his name a few times over the chatter. Finally, he turned to look at her, and she was curious as to where his mind was. She leapt out of her chair and rushed over to sprawl out over his lap, spilling a little cider over his as she did.

“First night in a while we can enjoy ourselves, and you look so serious. What’s up, Colonel?” she asked casually.

“Nothing that you don’t already know. I am merely taking in all that is before us. It is great, is it not? Having everyone back together?”

“I never thought you so sentimental?”

Taylor shook his head.

“No, you never appreciate what you have until its gone, do you?”

She only smiled in response.

Within thirty minutes, the two were falling into bed after just a few drinks, all that they could allow themselves while danger remained so close. Exhaustion overcame them, and they were asleep within minutes.

Taylor arose with the sunrise to find Eli was still in a deep sleep. It amused him to watch her for a few moments before reaching for his uniform. It was the best rest he had gotten in weeks and stepped out of his quarters to feel the fresh morning air on his face. The war hadn’t reached Meaux. At times it was easy to forget they were once more in a state of war. Mitch began to pace through the base, for no other reason other than to take a stroll.

But after a few blocks, a sight that was a grim reminder of their current situation, the base hospital, hit him. Engineers were busy fabricating temporary structures beside it to quell the overcrowding that had already begun. He stood and watched two light armoured vehicles roll up to the hospital. They were battle scarred, and Taylor quickly took interest, recognising the unit markings as those belonging to Dubois’ unit.

He’d no idea if she had returned to service or not, but a feeling in his stomach made him fear it so. The crew of the vehicles leapt out and pulled the wounded out from the rear doors. One of the casualties had the slender female figure that matched her description.

He rushed forward to check, but he already knew it would be her. As he approached, her face came into view, but she was not moving. He didn’t want it to be her, despite already knowing it was. Somehow, he hoped he could wish it away, but as he stepped over, her face was unmistakeable. He looked up to the crew and the medic who were carrying her.

“How is she? She gonna make it?”

“They all seemed to recognise the Colonel, but he didn’t remember meeting them. The medic shook his head.

“We can hope. She’s taken a lot of shrapnel and is in a bad way.”

She writhed a little, and Taylor finally noticed she was at least still breathing. She looked up for just a moment to see and recognise Taylor, trying to reach for his arm before passing out.

“Do not let her die!” he yelled.

They rushed on into the hospital, and he shook his head in disbelief. He lifted up his comms unit.

“Jones, I need you ASAP.”

No response came.

“Somebody find me Captain Jones, and contact me ASAP!”

He looked around and suddenly felt helpless. His old friend had finally returned to them, and he knew this could well break him. “Shit,” he said to himself, sitting down on a small wall outside the hospital. He had no idea what to do with himself. He waited for ten minutes and had still not received contact from any of his unit. He was getting frustrated and lifted his comms unit.

“Where the hell is Jones? Somebody speak to me.”

Grey finally responded.

“No sign of the Captain, Sir.”

Taylor shook his head.

“Well where the hell is he? Keep looking and get him to the hospital quickly. He needs to be here!”

He rushed into the hospital to find Dubois. One of her comrades guided him into her room where he could look in. It reminded him of the time he’d stood watching over Parker when she had been wounded early on in the first war, and he remembered how tough Dubois was.

A doctor stepped out from the room to address him and two of her comrades who stood beside Taylor.

“She will need some surgery, but she is stable. You can have a few minutes with her, but please keep her calm.”

“Thank you,” he replied, stepping into the room.

Dubois was weak and barely able to turn her head and speak.

“You’re a sucker for punishment,” he said. “Every time a war starts, you go headlong into it and almost get yourself killed.”

“That’s rich,” she whispered, “coming from you.”

It brought a cautious smile to his face.

“You’ll have Charlie sick, if we can ever find him.”

She nodded a little in agreement.

“He’s here one minute and gone the next. Always was the same.”

She looked confused.

“Here? When?”

“He got here yesterday afternoon. He’s signed back up with us. Best thing that’s happened since all this kicked off.”

She shook her head.

“No, no,” she said.

Taylor was confused by her comment and tone.

“What is it?”

“He is not here. He would not go and fight again.”

“Maybe he changed his mind.”

She shook her head, coughing and trying to get her breath.

“I spoke to him last night. He was at home on the farm. He begged me to return.”

“Hate to tell you, but he was here drinking with us.”

She shook her head once again.

“No, on video, he was at the farm.”

Taylor almost stopped breathing, beginning to piece together what she was saying. Jones arrived out of the blue and was the only one in the Regiment who hadn’t been cleared by the x-ray scanners.

Taylor opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted by an alarm sounding throughout the base.

“What is it?” asked Dubois.

Taylor turned to her two comrades. You stay here and look after her. If you see Captain Jones, you approach with caution and arrest him immediately, you hear?”

They didn’t understand, but they did accept the command. Taylor rushed out of the room as quickly as he could and burst out of the hospital and across the two blocks to the research bunker where the alarm had originated. Two guards were rushing for the door, and he quickly followed them. He had no weapons or armour on him. It took a minute for the guards to get through the security door.

As they entered, one ran through a pool of blood emanating from a soldier who lay dead with her throat cut. Taylor stepped over and knelt down to take a closer look. As he did, he spotted another body with a blade embedded in the eye socket.

“What the hell happened here?” asked one of the soldiers.

“We have a traitor among us, an enemy agent. Get to the research labs, and secure Rossi and her staff. I’m heading for the cells.”

“Why?”

“Just trust me.”

Taylor stepped over to the other body and was glad to find a pistol still holstered. He grabbed it and the two spare magazines on the fallen soldier’s belt before carrying on down the corridor. Civilian staff members were running past in fear and pointing the way he was going to tell him where the attacker was.

How quickly things can go to shit, he thought to himself.

He carried on with nothing more than the sidearm he had recovered. When he arrived at the cellblock, he found another dead guard and a trail of blood going through the open doorway to the cells. The fallen guard had been shot this time, in what was clearly becoming a hastier situation.

Taylor's instincts had quickly cut in, but he was still rolling it all over in his head and trying to make certain he was right about the scenario. He stepped through the doorway, hoping to find nothing but knowing he would. He knew all but one of the cells were empty, so he headed directly for Armand, but as he turned the bend to get to the cell door, he found Jones helping the former Councillor to escape.

Armand had to hop and be dragged because the damage to his kneecap was substantial. It meant they were making little progress.

"Stop!" Taylor ordered.

He had the pistol raised high and could see Jones was armed just the same; BDUs and a pistol he'd picked up from a body. Jones snapped around and fired two shots. The first went wide, but the second would have met its target had Taylor not leapt back behind the corner where he’d come from. Mitch took in a deep breath, realising how naked he felt without his armour. It had saved his life more times than he could count, and now a single shot could end his life.

"I know who you are, Jones!" Taylor shouted.

It seemed strange to call him that, but he couldn't think of what else to say. This seemed like all the evidence needed to know this Jones was a Krys agent, but he still wanted to hear it from his lips to know for sure.

"Then why didn't you shoot me?"

"To give you a chance to surrender. Lay down your weapon and give yourself up!"

"Why, so I can be a lab rat like Armand here?"

"That or I put a bullet between your eyes."

He went silent for a moment and thought about it.

"You couldn't kill me, your oldest living friend."

"But you’re aren't him, you just look like him."

"You've lost this war, Colonel Mitch Taylor. You've won a few battles, but you could never win the war. This planet is infiltrated beyond your understanding, and it'll fall around you in a flash."

"Yeah, well, we'll see about that. I can't let you take Armand, and he isn't fit enough to run, so what'll it be?"

There was silence for an uncomfortable ten seconds where all Taylor could hear was the alarm still ringing in his ears. He dared not sneak a peek around the corner. He knew how good a shot Jones was. Finally Jones replied.

"If I can't have Armand, neither can you."

As he said it, a small explosion erupted nearby from beyond Jones' position. It was too coincidental to not be Jones who was the cause. He cautiously looked around the corner, and Jones was gone. A man-sized hole had been punched in a wall at the end of the corridor, and Armand's body lay lifelessly between him and the breach.

At first he couldn't understand why Jones had left his fellow Krys agent behind, but as he closed the distance, he understood. Blood spewed out over the floor where Armand had been decapitated. His head was gone; containing the only evidence they had uncovered which identified Krys agents.

"Shit!"

He rushed to the breach in the wall and passed through without any care for his own life. He knew that evidence was more important than anything on the entire base. A trail of blood spots continued on up another corridor that he quickly followed. Two gunshots rang out in the distance, and he already knew that would be another friendly down.

What is this shit? Friends are enemy agents. This could end us.

He carried on and found the body of one of the French guards, just as he suspected. The man was still breathing but couldn't move.

"Where does this lead to?" asked Taylor impatiently. "Where is he heading?"

The soldier could barely breathe or speak, but just about summed up enough energy to point onwards and mumble the word 'hangar'.

Fuck, he's gonna try and fly out of here.

He knew the chances of him making it across the border were slim, but if they were shot down en route, all evidence of them would be destroyed anyway. Taylor knew if they got airborne it was a ‘win win’ for the Krys. He picked up the pace and stormed down the corridor, without a care for anything in the world except for stopping Jones. He knew at any moment he could be ambushed but took no caution at all. He could not afford to.

The corridor opened up ahead of him as the Frenchman had said. He burst out into a small hangar that stored just three small craft; highly agile and fast hexrotor transports with power turbines derived from alien technology. They seated half a dozen at the most, and Taylor realised they must have been there for rapid evac of VIPs. A fact that might get them over the border, free and clear.

The engines were already fired up and the massive blast doors in front of them sliding apart. Taylor had just twenty seconds before he'd lose them for good. He looked to the cockpit and could see Jones looking down at him with a triumphant smile. It was bizarre and incongruous to be coming from a man he'd considered his closest friend for so many years. He had to keep telling himself that it was not Jones.

Taylor raised his pistol and fired two shots at the glass, but both bounced off with no damage. He quickly turned his attention to one of the turbine engines and fired two shots through, but they ricocheted off as well. He looked around for anything that could make a difference and saw the mechanics tool rack. He grabbed the largest wrench he could and launched it into the turbine. It crunched and bounced around inside the engine before being tossed out the back to little effect.

He looked out to see the doors were almost open. There were just a few seconds left. Then to his side he noticed huge chains hanging from a hoist, presumably designed for lifting large component parts. He grabbed one of the chains and rushed to the craft. The hoist swung over on its mountings overhead, and as Jones upped the power to move, Taylor launched the chain into the turbine. As it struck the fan, a huge piece of metal flew from the engine and narrowly missed Taylor's head. He recoiled back and fell to the floor.

He watched in amazement as the thick chain was pulled through the engine until it went taut and ripped the hoist from the ceiling. The huge electronic pulley system crashed down onto the turbine, crushing it in one and ripping part of the fuselage off the craft as it did so.

The turbine caught fire for a moment. The aircraft's emergency systems cut in, and all power was reduced, and the fires put out by its inbuilt extinguishers. The noise finally died down, and Taylor could see the craft was beached and utterly useless. Jones still glared at him from the cockpit. He had no choice now but to confront Taylor personally.

"Only way out is through me, you son of a bitch!" yelled Taylor.

He got to his feet and took cover behind a mechanic’s workstation and slammed a new magazine into his pistol. A few seconds later, the door to the craft slid open, but there was no sign of Jones. Then a gunshot rang out, and Taylor ducked down as it hit the top beside him. It hadn't come from the door of the craft. He looked out around the corner and saw as another gunshot rang out that it was coming from the hole that had been ripped in the fuselage.

Taylor took a few paces along to change position and then jumped up to fire a few shots, but he could not tell if they met their target. Three shots were returned at him, and he ducked down once again. In this instance, time was on his side. Any time now he hoped for a swathe of soldiers to rush to his aid, and yet they hadn't come yet.

Two more shots rang out, and then all went quiet. Taylor waited for a moment before carefully looking over the edge to see Jones' silhouette in the doorway of the craft. He stood square on with no care for cover and his pistol lowered.

"I'm out!" he called.

"Tough shit!"

"You won't shoot me, Mitch. You couldn't shoot an old friend!"

"No, I couldn't, but you’re not him! Jones never came back to service. Your secret is out!"

"Ah, well, can't win 'em all."

Taylor found it unnerving how much this Krys agent sounded and acted like Jones. He watched from cover as Jones threw his pistol away onto the ground and stepped out onto the deck of the landing area. Mitch rushed out with his pistol held at the ready. He could see Jones carried the head of Armand in one hand and a bloodied knife was stuffed into his belt.

"Maybe you won't kill me for looking like him, but you will not kill me because I'm the only living clone you know."

Taylor couldn't help but agree.

"So I'm going walk to that next ship and fly the hell out of here."

He turned to leave, but Taylor fired a warning shot at the floor beside him that forced him to stop.

"You’re not going anywhere. I need you alive, but you don't need your legs. Another step towards that craft, and I'll put you down."

"You put animals down. You want to put me down, you better be willing to do it with your own hands."

He dropped the head of Armand and drew his knife, but he did not grip it ready to fight. Instead, he threw it away.

"You going to shoot an unarmed man?"

The clone standing before him disgusted Taylor. It was an insult to his friend, and an insult to their Regiment, and yet he could not help but treat it like a human.

"All right, you want to do this?" he asked. "You’re coming with me, whether you like it or not."

He dropped the magazine on his pistol and placed it down on the workbench. He didn't enjoy hurting Armand because the Councillor either didn't or couldn't fight back, but he was going to enjoy this.

"You know you Krys play every card against the human race, and every time we beat you. You just don't know when to quit."

"When we own this planet, this heaven, and we will own it. No matter the cost, no matter how long it takes. Erdogan is coming for you, and nothing will stand in his way."

"Wrong, I will."

He rushed forward at Jones and tackled him to the ground, beating down on him with two heavy punches to the face. Jones tried to cover his face, but Taylor worked a heavy shot to his flank, but as he did Jones managed to lever out from under him and lock a leg over his neck, launching him off onto his back. Jones kicked towards his head, but Taylor rolled over and was quickly back on his feet.

One-on-one combat was something he'd become intimately familiar with since he had been used as a gladiator in the ring. He rarely enjoyed that experience, but this was different. Now he had a reason to fight. Taylor stepped forward with his hands held at the ready and launched a fast jab towards Jones, who blocked and kicked to the inside of his leg. It hurt like hell and forced him to wobble, but he just about managed to stay on his feet when a kick hit his stomach and launched him back against the workbench where he had placed the gun. For a moment, the thought of reaching it passed through his mind, but his honour stopped him.

"It's a wonder you ever commanded this unit when Jones was clearly the better man," said the clone.

"Maybe he was, but you're not him."

Taylor rushed forward with immense speed and threw a jab as he done before, but stopped short in a feint that got the same response as before. Jones leapt aside. As he did, Taylor carried through with a hook, catching Jones square on the chin. He dropped to the floor. Taylor circled him with a smile. The clone held onto its jaw that had almost been broken by the impact.

"Jones was many things, great at many things in fact, but he was never one for a fist fight, and if you have nothing more in the bank than he had, you might as well give up now."

It still struck Taylor as strange to be hitting the man he considered such a strong friend. He had to keep reminding himself that it was not Jones, and that was easy when he was being attacked, but looking down at the body of Jones on the floor made him feel awkward and made it difficult to hit him while he was down.

"Might as well give up. You’re not getting out of here."

"You are all that stands between me and that ship," he spat back.

"Like I said, might as well give up now."

Jones got back to his feet and stumbled towards Taylor as if half finished. Taylor lowered his guard, and as he did, Jones kicked once again to the leg that had been struck before. This time it buckled. A knee coming for his face quickly followed it. Taylor tried to lift his hands to protect his head, but most of the impact hit him full on and launched him onto his back.

The clone rushed past to make it to the ship, but Taylor took a firm hold on his ankle and pulled him off his feet. He landed hard but reached for the wrench that had blasted out the turbine a few minutes before and smashed it down on Taylor's arm. Mitch felt the bone crunch as it came close to breaking and hurt like hell. He could not help but release his grip and roll out the way as the wrench came at him once again, and smashing into the metal floor where he had lain.

Taylor's arm almost gave way when he pushed himself up. He knew another blow like that could stop him in his tracks. He reached for the first thing to hand, a two-metre metal tube. He had no idea what it was from, but it was lightweight for its size and completely rigid and tough. He held out the pole in both hands as if it were a spear, offering the tip to Jones to try and reach for it.

Jones struck towards the pole with his heavy wrench, but Taylor quickly avoided it, using the leverage of the light weapon and thrust it into his attacker's chest. The impact hit hard with no flex at all, and the wind was taken out of the clone’s lungs. Taylor took his opportunity to finish it. He swung the pole around, striking Jones' leg and taking it out from under him. But Taylor did not stop the swing of the pole. He used the weight to pendulum it around his head and drive it into Jones' face.

The impact hit his skull just above his eye sockets and instantly knocked him unconscious. Taylor took a deep breath and sighed in relief. He knew how close they had come to losing all the evidence they had. He stepped over to the head of Armand and picked it up off the ground as he heard footsteps thundering down the corridor towards him.

Four French soldiers rushed out into the hangar with rifles held high, and General Dupont himself with gun in hand followed them. They all stopped and looked in disbelief at the sight before them. Taylor stood with the pole in one hand and the severed head in the other; the hangar itself looked like a warzone. Dupont looked out at the open hangar doors and back to Taylor, trying to make sense of what had happened.

"Is that Armand's head you are carrying?" he asked.

Taylor nodded and couldn't help but admit it must be a bizarre sight to behold, but it was clear the General already knew Jones was the infiltrator.

"Captain Jones, one of yours from the very beginning."

"Near enough," replied Taylor, "but that isn't him. That is a Krys agent."

"We know. He was detected passing out scanners as he entered this building, but he cut a bloody path through."

"Something tells me it's time you upgraded your security. The clone got through to Armand and tried to bust him out. When I stopped him from doing it, he took the head for obvious reasons and made a break for it."

"So now we have no surviving Krys subject?"

"We have him. He'll live."

"Is the real Captain Jones still alive also?"

Taylor nodded in agreement, and Dupont's face lit up.

"This is a real boost to our position. If we can get the real Jones and clone together, it will be irrefutable proof of what the Krys have been doing."

"Yeah, well good luck getting him here. He doesn't want anything more to do with this war."

"Like it or not, he's in it; more than ever now."

"Well you can be the one to tell him that."

"Something tells me he'll be more amenable to the idea now. He's got a clone running around raising hell and a wife in the hospital. Wouldn't that drive you to want to fight back?"

"It would, yes," he replied. Though he didn't agree it would for Jones. The last time he saw the real Jones he was not the man he used to know, not even close. He wanted nothing more than to have him back alongside in the Inter-Allied Regiment. He looked down at the body of the clone and thought not of his own pain and the casualties they had suffered that day, but for the hatred he had for the clone making him believe he had his comrade back.

Dupont looked around again at the devastation all around Taylor.

"Do you destroy everything where you go?"

Taylor smiled in response.

"I never look for these fights. They just seem to land in my hands, or some wise ass throws me in the shit."

"It's good work here. We came so close to losing our evidence. Voice recordings, video footage, documented evidence; they are all pointless without the specimen as proof. We could have lost that, and now we have furthered our inventory."

"Where do we go from here?"

"I've got a meet arranged with UEN representatives, and you're just the man I need for it."

"Not going yourself, Sir?"

He shook his head. "Can't risk it, and anyway, your name means a lot to many people. If anyone can get the point across, it's you."

"I'm no ambassador or negotiator. I'm a marine, a fighter. You want to send a fighter to try and negotiate for peace? Only way I know how to win peace is to kill the enemy."

"You'll do just fine."

Well that's fucking great, he thought.

"Get to the hospital and have them make sure you're all okay, and go see Jones' wife while you're at it. I want you and your senior officers for a briefing at 1300 hours."

He dropped the pole, threw the head over so that it rolled to a halt beside the clone’s body, and strode on out, leaving the soldiers in amazement at what they had seen. As he headed towards the hospital, he realised just how much he ached from the fight. The wrench strike to the arm had hit the bone in his forearm, and it was now swelling and a little numb.

Sometimes he felt as if he and his unit did everything in the war, and then he arrived at the hospital and was reminded how small a part they played in the overall picture. Parker was waiting for him at the door.

"What the fuck's going on?" she asked.

"You know Jones came back to us yesterday?"

"Yeah."

"It wasn't Jones."

"Shit."

"No kidding."

They walked on into the hospital to find Dubois, but they found an empty room. Mitch grabbed a nurse walking by.

"Sergeant Dubois, she was in this room, where is she now?"

"In surgery, Sir," he replied.

"Dubois? What's she doing here?" asked Eli.

Taylor couldn't bring himself to explain it, and he'd had enough of the stuffy air inside the hospital. It was air conditioned, but like all hospitals, it never smelt or felt good. He stepped outside and sat at a bench beneath a shelter extending over the front of the building, resting his head back against the wall. The sun was up now and it was baking hot; his exhaustion made him fall asleep where he sat.

It was an hour later when he awoke and found Parker still sitting beside him. A shadow passed over him, and he saw the silhouette of a man in front of him. He cupped his hand over his eyes to see it was Jones, though he barely recognised him. He wore casual civilian trousers and a loose khaki shirt. He had a beard now, longer hair, and looked nothing like the strictly disciplined Captain Jones he had known so well. It was at this point he thought if he had been in contact with his old friend, he would have known the clone to be false.

"Is it really you?" asked Taylor.

"I should have known you'd be at the centre of all this," replied Jones.

Taylor got up off his feet and offered out his hand in friendship, but Jones would not take it.

"Of course it's me, who else would I be?" he responded bluntly.

"Trust me, we've got a lot to discuss."

"I didn't come here to join you. I didn't come to fight. I came here for my wife."

Taylor was surprised to hear it. He thought Charlie might have finally come around, and it was a great disappointment to hear it was not the case.

"She out of surgery yet?" he asked.

Taylor shrugged and looked to Eli who didn't have an answer either.

"I'd like to know as much as you do."

"Did you speak to her when she arrived?"

Taylor nodded. "I told her you'd come back to us, and you had. That's what we need to talk to you about. Captain Charlie Jones drank with us last night, and this morning cut a bloody path through this base. It was because of Dubois I discovered he was not you, but too late to save as many lives as I would have liked."

Jones didn't seem to care for any of what he was saying.

"I want to see her," he responded.

Taylor led him inside to the room where he had first seen Dubois and was glad to see she had returned. They stepped through into her room, and she smiled on seeing Jones approach.

He looked over to the nurse tending her.

"How is she?"

"Well, she should make a full recovery in a few months."

A tear dropped down his cheek as he took her hand.

"I almost lost you."

"But you didn't," she replied.

Dubois was drowsy and barely able to stay awake.

"She needs plenty of rest," said the nurse.

Dubois beckoned for Jones to come a little closer, so he knelt in, but they could all just about hear Dubois' faint voice.

"I want you to do something for me," she said.

"What? Anything," he replied.

"Fight, fight for us."

He stood upright and looked into her eyes to see her sincerity and knew what he must do. It was a moment of clarity he'd not known in a long time. He turned to Taylor who could see new life in his old friend’s face.

"These bastards mean to take everything from me, and I don't intend to let them without a fight. I want my commission back," he snapped.

"You have it."

* * *

Inter-Allied was formed up and anxiously waiting to hear what was coming next.

"All gather in!" Taylor ordered.

They were a little shocked at his relaxed approach and ambled forwards.

"Come on!" he yelled.

"We have a new mission on our hands, but not for the Regiment; for just six of us. No mission we have ever undertaken has been safe or with any certainty of returning, and this is far from an exception to the rule. Six of us are going to a meet with the enemy where we frankly have no idea what to expect, or if they'll keep they word of a ceasefire. I am gonna ask for volunteers."

"I'll go with you," Jones added quickly.

Taylor knew it wasn't a good idea throwing him into a situation so soon after returning to service and with the stress of his wife's hospitalisation, but he could not say no to an old friend. He nodded in appreciation.

"I'll go," stated Grey.

Taylor shook his head.

"I'd be glad to have you at my side, but should this mission fail, and we not return, the Regiment will need experienced officers to move forward."