The Last Charge of the 1st Legion (The Last Hero Trilogy Book 3)

by Nathaniel Danes

  “Dirty.”

  “Yeah.” She nodded and lowered her head. “I guess I got used to the idea of killing aliens. It might sound bad, but that was easier. Less emotional, like hunting coyotes or exterminating rats.”

  “Don’t feel bad. You’re not alone.” He squeezed her hand, hiding their embrace between him. “I want you to check in with other senior non-coms and get a sense for what the troops are saying. You and I are just about the only people alive who’ve actually fought other humans in combat. If we feel this way, I worry about those who’ve never really considered the possibility of taking a human life.”

  “Good idea.” She perked up at the prospect of helping others prepare for the turmoil she sensed. “I’ll get right on it.”

  Staring back at his real-life chessboard, he selected which pieces to put in play. He did so with a heavy heart, mindful that the icons represented real soldiers, some of whom would never return. “Second Cohort, I’ve got a mission for you.”

  ***

  Major Thomas, Deputy Commander of the Second Cohort, crested the hill on her belly. She had units scurrying about in every direction, looking for signs of the enemy, and she wanted to see the area for herself. The landscape was depressing. Barren, cold, and with no color more exotic than shades of gray and tan. Rain was falling and that made the whole place even more suicide-inducing.

  Her cohort was the tip of the spear for the left flank recon. Soldiers swarmed hills and searched behind boulders. Nothing, not even bacteria, opposed them.

  A unit lagging in their search caught her attention. “Captain Youngworth, what’s the holdup with the Third Century? They’re almost a hundred meters behind. I don’t like that gap in my lines.”

  “Sorry, sir. My squads are picking something up in that area and they’ve paused to investigate.”

  “Understood, captain. Next time let me know immediately when you have to hold up so I can adjust.”

  “Roger, major. It won’t happen again.”

  She was busy consulting her tac-map when they rose from the ground. A flood of alerts and a spike in com traffic overwhelmed her senses. Jerking her vision to the source of distress, she witnessed one of the Krakens, as they would be dubbed, emerge. They were almost twice the size of a Super Heavy and had six arms. Their head was formed to depict a monster’s face.

  It seemed to rise in slow motion. Loose soil and gravel flowed off its alloy skin like water. She swore the thing roared as if it were one of the mythical creatures. The sharp noise sliced into her ears, causing her to wince.

  The screams of her soldiers made her eyes open wide. The Krakens whipped their arms in an orgy of death, killing troopers with each gesture.

  “Retreat!” she shouted, as if the cohort needed her permission.

  The gray earth gave birth to more of the terrible monsters, sending the entire flank reeling back. Dozens were mowed down, shot in the back as they ran for their lives.

  Desperate to save those she could, she opened a channel with Trent, jumping over her own cohort commander. “What’s going on, major?”

  “Sir!” She was already pleading. “Requesting that the First advance to my current position. I need them to cover my men’s retreat. Several are pinned down.” It was hard to keep air in her lungs and the tears from pushing themselves out. “It was a fucking trap, Trent. My cohort walked right into it. Please! I’ve gotta save some of them!”

  “They’re on their way. Tell Simms where you want ‘em.”

  “Thank you, sir!”

  She checked her tac-map and saw that the First had begun to stir. It would take time for them to reach her in force and her soldiers didn’t have any to spare.

  Dammit! Damn you to hell! She cursed the God of War, hammering a fist into the ground.

  A smattering of panicked legionnaires approached her. They clearly didn’t plan to stop. She jumped up and tackled the closest one. “Stop! All of you stop! Stop and reform on this hill!” Most arrested their fear and held their ground. Some, overcome by the horror of the enemy, continued down the back slope. On one knee, she raised her rifle. “Stop or I’ll shoot you myself, so help me God!”

  Not everyone heeded the warning. Narrowing her eyes, she took aim and brought two down with single rounds to their legs. She coldly looked at the nearest two soldiers. “Bring them back up here and point them toward the enemy. They’re making their stand with us.” The errand boys hurried to do as ordered.

  Scrounging together a group of twenty able-bodied, shell-shocked survivors, she resolved to do whatever it took to aid those still alive and trapped. She refused to abandon her people.

  She instructed her CAL to record a message. “Walter,” she begun with Simms’ first name, “I’m sending you this with delivery instructions, because I know you’d try to stop me if I talked to you live. I’m going down the hill with what I’ve got. There’re soldiers trapped and the enemy is coming for them. You won’t make it in time.” Tears broke free. “If this is it, remember that you’re the love of my life. I love you. Good-bye.”

  Stuffing those emotions in a box, she led her brave but ill-equipped relief force down the hill.

  The battle had changed. Survivors of the initial shock attack had taken cover behind rocks, depressions in the ground, anything they could find. They were fighting back. This gave the Krakens pause. It has always been dangerous for cumbersome armored units to engage concealed infantry on rough terrain without infantry support of their own.

  The Krakens kept her trapped people’s heads down with an unending storm of fire. From her vantage point, she saw the first elements of the enemy’s infantry creep forward, trying to finish them off with almost no loss. That wasn’t going to happen on her watch.

  “Here’s the plan,” she told her team, highlighting the points on their maps she referred to and handing out assignments. “We’re breaking up into five fire teams. Each team will head for a pocket of our guys and give them cover to pull back. Whoever these bastards are, they seem reluctant to risk their big boys. Probably don’t have many of them. We have a chance to make a difference. Move out!”

  Running crouched, her team circled around to the extreme left and crawled into position. A cluster of seven legionnaires were pinned down. Their position was solid but couldn’t hold much longer. A constant bombardment of grenades, lasers, and KKC rounds tore into the sheltering rock, knocking chunks off.

  She got a good look at the enemy infantry conducting a flanking maneuver. They could’ve been her men. They used the same camouflage and weapons. Their tactics were also spot on.

  Who are these people?

  “Let ‘em have it!”

  The familiar vibration of her MRG tickled her fingers. She cut down the enemy squad without remorse. Their DNA might’ve been human, but to her, they were demons and deserved nothing better than a violent death.

  “Sergeant Cruz!” She opened a channel to the trapped group’s senior member. “Run for my position when we open up again!” She faced her team. “Grenades, on that big son-of-bitch!”

  At long range, they peppered the thick hull of the nearest Kraken. The small explosives inflicted damage and forced it to retreat behind cover, allowing an opening for Cruz and his men to link up.

  What I wouldn’t give for a Slayer-equipped trooper right about now.

  The enlarged group hurried up the hill before the enemy could reconfigure themselves.

  “How are your people, sergeant? They still got some fight in them?”

  “We’re getting light on ammo, but yeah. We want in on some payback.”

  “That’s what I wanted to hear.”

  They freed another group and the enemy decided they’d had enough. Or maybe the all-out attack was always part of their plan and her recon had screwed up their timetable. Either way, they charged up the hill with everything they had.

  In full retreat, Thomas made it ninety percent up when a hail of rounds ripped into her unit. It felt like a sledgehammer hit her waist. The impact
spun her around like a top and she collapsed with a chunk missing from her side. Most of those around her were killed outright. She laid there on the cold slab of rock, paralyzed from shock.

  Her suit sealed and applied pressure to the gaping wound. Nanos rushed to the scene and did everything they could to stabilize her. The injury was mortal if left untreated, however. Laying face up, she stared into the stormy sky and felt herself slipping away. There was no pain.

  “Help.” The taste of copper filled her mouth. She didn’t want to die on this forsaken world. She wanted to survive this one last war and live a quiet, peaceful life. She’d earned as much. “Help.”

  ***

  Major Simms had finally reached the top of the hill designated by Jane when an alert flashed in his mind’s eye. Major Thomas was critically wounded and fading.

  Jane! God, no! She’s close! I can reach her!

  A hundred Krakens, supported by several hundred light and heavy infantry, advanced up the slope. The First Cohort opened up with everything they had and gave the enemy something to think about. It wouldn’t be enough. Not even close.

  Simms’ heart exploded, driving him to irrational action. He was the acting-commander of a cohort in a desperate battle. Making a suicidal charge to rescue someone likely already dead was the last thing he should be doing. It was stupid, reckless, selfish and totally irresponsible. It was love and it was exactly what he did.

  He sprinted to her. Supersonic bullets whizzed by as friendly fire came just as close to killing him as that from the enemy. MRG at his hip, he fired on full auto, paying little attention to the direction of his rounds. He was prepared to die at any moment but somehow made it to his lover’s side.

  Sliding in feet first, he whipped his rifle onto his back, picked her up and ran like the devil himself was on his heels. Her limp appendages bounced with each stride. His cohort deduced his crazy plan and laid down an intense blanket of covering fire. It carried them to safety.

  “Medic!” Tears ran down his cheeks unabated. “It’s gonna be all right, baby.” he said directly into her mind.

  She was too weak to speak but her mind still hung by a thread to this universe. “Walt? Is that you? I knew you’d come for me.”

  He wanted to rip off her helmet and look her in the eye, to kiss her, to touch her soft skin, but the atmosphere was too toxic. Closing his eyes, he imagined they were in bed together.

  “I’m here. A medic is coming. You’ll be fine. Just hold on a little longer.”

  “You always were a bad liar. That’s why you suck at cards.”

  Legionnaires began to pull back from the hilltop. Sergeant Alla Babkin tugged on his arm. “We need to leave, sir!”

  He ignored her. “Don’t talk like that. You will make it and we’ll retire from the Legion, just like you said you wanted.”

  “I’m dying, Walt. I’m only half here now. You need to go. I’m still receiving sitreps and you’ll die if you stay here any longer.”

  “Sir!” Babkin was dragging him and Jane. Only a few soldiers remained on the line to cover the retreat.

  “I’m not leaving you—never.”

  “It’s okay, honey.” Her neuro nano signal was failing. “It’s beautiful here. I’m safe, but you still have a job to do. Your men still need you. Earth still needs you. My war is over.”

  “No! You can’t go! I love you.”

  “I love you. I’ve loved you since the day I saw you in the Pentagon. That was so long ago and just yesterday. Good-bye my love. Go, go, g...”

  “Noooo!”

  In shock, he lost his grip on Jane. The sergeant tossed him onto her shoulders and kicked into a full sprint. Simms didn’t breath; he couldn’t. Head bobbing, he kept his eyes locked on her body. It grew smaller and smaller until he couldn’t see her anymore.

  Major Jane Thomas, Texan, U.S. Air Force pilot, Red Baron, friend, and lover was dead.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Retreat

  Trent watched with horror as the First Legion was being routed. Cries for help flooded the command channel while unit after unit fell prey to the surprise attack. Closing the link, he could hear the rain beat against the tent.

  Rage born of frustration boiled over. He lifted the end of the table he was leaning on and slammed it into the ground. Half a dozen heads snapped toward him and quickly looked away.

  I should’ve expected this! They weren’t just going to let me come to them on my own terms. They don’t have any support and need to destroy me while they’re at their strongest. They let us walk into a trap and launched an all-out attack. It’s what I would’ve done.

  The entire line was pulling back, trading territory for time. Time for what, exactly, Trent wasn’t sure. His command staff kept their distance. He could feel them glancing at him, though. They were waiting for him to perk up with a brilliant plan freshly pulled out of his ass.

  Why shouldn’t they? He’d done it time and time again, in battle after battle. South Africa, Big Red, Black Marble, and Kitright Prime until the invincible ships changed the equation. Trent Maxwell had never tasted defeat at the hands of another army. His legend bought him the undying loyalty of the soldiers under him. They believed he could lead them to victory no matter what and would follow him to hell. It was an honor, a grave responsibility, a curse.

  No man is invincible, no matter the views of those serving under him. The pressure of expectations was heavier than he imagined.

  Trent didn’t consider himself to be a great general. He didn’t rank his accomplishments anywhere near those of Patton, Caesar or a hundred others. Nor did he really care. In his youth, he did care about such trivial things. Now, after having tasted more than his share of glory, he honestly didn’t give a damn. Good enough to get the job done was as high as he aimed for his legacy.

  A mark he was falling short of at the moment.

  An aide, Captain Michael Raj, opened a channel. “All forward deployed cohorts are in full retreat. What are your orders?”

  He stared at the poor captain for five long seconds before silently returning to the 3D display of the battlefield. His forces were moving further and further from the canyon, which cut through the landscape like a snaking dry river.

  River? What was it that Sun Tzu said about rivers and half your enemy?

  “Sweetie, what is the Sun Tzu quote with references to rivers and half?”

  “I believe you are referring to Chapter Nine, On the March, section five. It reads: Do not fight with the advancing army in the middle of a river crossing, unless half in the water and the other half already on shore.”

  Half?

  At the speed of thought he zipped the display from place to place. He reexamined the potential landing areas he considered on both sides of the canyon before choosing the one he stood on. Again, he found no significant advantage with any of them. In fact, he’d almost landed on the opposite side. Picking this side came down to the position of the task force before launch.

  The enemy had no way of anticipating which side of the canyon he would land. This meant they’d planned to spring the same trap on the other side. Half of their force was not in the fight against the entire First Legion.

  If their structure model is based on anything like the Legion, then I have numerical superiority at the point of contact. Their strategy is dependent on surprise to overwhelm us before our numbers can be effectively used against them.

  The realization put steel in his spine. Standing upright, he selected a line of hilltops with his fingers. “All light infantry units to these positions. Commit the reserve light infantry, as well.”

  Raj cleared his throat. “All of them, sir?”

  “Yes.” He highlighted a point deep in the rear behind a ridge. “All heavy and super heavies need to form here.”

  Walking away from the display, he opened a channel with his light cohort commanders. “Listen up. Many of you are calling for a general retreat. It’s not going to happen. Nor am I spreading our heavies out along the li
ne to make a stand. That’s what the enemy wants us to do. I need you to maintain constant contact with the advancing forces. Fall back as necessary. Make them think they’re about to overrun you, but keep just beyond their reach. Be sure to watch the position of the units around you and don’t allow yourself to be cut off. That’s all for now.”

  He turned back toward his staff. “Captain Raj, monitor the line and help coordinate the fighting retreat.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Captain DeWalt.” Trent switched channels. “How are your nuclear warhead reserves?”

  “Low. Why? Even a full barrage won’t make it close enough to do you any good. Even if some got through, the terrain would seriously limit their effectiveness.”

  “I don’t need you to bombard the enemy. I need you to blind them for a little while. Detonate one at a time over our heads. Flood this area with radiation.”

  “When do you want it?”

  “Now.” He looked out the tent at the rain. It fell in giant drops. “I need one more thing and you’re not going to like it.”

  ***

  Simms felt dead inside. Losing Jane, holding her as she faded away, ripped his heart out and replaced it with a cold machine that pumped mechanically, without emotion. It didn’t even seem to speed up when death stared him square in the eye. Intense combat hadn’t allowed him to deal with the pain. It festered, turning the funny and friendly man into a soulless instrument of destruction.

  Enemy-led elements advanced on his position. The First Cohort couldn’t possibly hold. They needed to fall back to the next hill, but he couldn’t tear himself away. Opposing light infantry snaked up the slope, unleashing a hurricane of fire to cover their charge. Explosions and screams filled the air.

  Suddenly he was bathed in pure light. Another short-lived sun had blinked into existence five kilometers above his head. A vertical windstorm crashed onto his back like a brick wall. A radiation surge caused his HUD to flicker.