The Last Hero

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The Last Hero Page 17

by Nathaniel Danes


  Grenade blasts vibrated the dawn air, eliminating defensive turrets. Those occupying the manned positions found themselves in an unfortunate position.

  The flanking columns fanned out to fight a war of attrition. They slugged it out building by building. The center contingent dashed for the enemy’s heart like a lethal knife thrust. Trent sprinted past. Pre-assigned teams of four to five squads peeled off to clear the structures. Penetrating the second layer of the buildings, he paused at a mid-sized one’s corner to take stock of the situation.

  Sweetie’s sensors displayed heavy fighting on the flanks and inside the first buildings invaded. Confidant in the rightness of the calculated risk, he proceeded around the corner to the likely command center.

  A door on the left flew open. Out ran a group of haphazardly equipment Bearcats. Trent didn’t falter in face of the unexpected challenge.

  On pure instinct, the MRG’s trigger gracefully glided back. He unleashed an ungodly tornado of supersonic projectiles on full auto.

  The Bearcats eroded away as easily as pillars of sand daring to stand before a fire hose.

  Without uttering a word, forty legionnaires hurried to carry the attack indoors. Trent turned to continue the charge into the base’s heart.

  ***

  Captain Thomas came upon the door to her assigned building. Firing a grenade at full stride, she ripped open a passage amid swirling flames and smoke. Rushing in, she discovered the large structure served as a warehouse for a wide variety of mining equipment lay in scattered pieces. She quickly determined that a few functioned as bulldozers, backhoes, and mobile drills.

  Taking cover behind a lowered dirt coated drill bit, Thomas kept her eyes down range. The five squads allocated to clear the building poured through the gaping hole. Eager to score her first kill of the battle, she barked orders.

  “Alpha and Bravo take left. Delta, Echo has right, and Charlie is on me at center. Let’s clear this place double time.”

  She rose in preparation for an advance. Dozens of loud pops rang out in rapid succession.

  Several enemy rounds clinked against the drill bit. Thomas dropped back down to her knees.

  Slipping over the safety of the drill bit, she returned fire with burst after burst. She scored no kills against the well-protected enemy. In frustration, she switched to full auto and again pulled back on the trigger unleashing a deadly stream of sweeping fire.

  “Aaaaaaaaaaaaaa!” She moved the barrel side to side.

  An enemy round grazed the top of her right shoulder. The bullet ripped open her suit and sent her flying back onto the hard warehouse floor.

  Legion and Bearcat grenades detonated all around the constant sound of countless rounds ricocheting off thick metal.

  A private rushed to her side, but the superficial wound required no aid. The injury ignited a rage within Thomas.

  “Get off me.” She forced the concerned private away and rose. “These fuckers just pissed me off!”

  Crunching low, she brought her weapon up and replaced the grenade clip in a fluid motion.

  “Grenades, Wingman,” she commanded her CAL.

  The laser ranged the distance to a bulldozer and fired a round.

  Baam!

  Wasting no time, she shifted her attention to another positions.

  Baam!

  Baam!

  Baam!

  Baam!

  The outburst of firepower cut an avenue for advance.

  “Forward!” She grabbed the private by his shoulder, pulling him with her. “Let’s get in there and kill them all.”

  Spraying a river of BBs for cover, Thomas and what remained of the center squad pushed into the gap. Exhausting her supply of projectiles, she knelt inside the bucket of a bulldozer. Releasing the spent clip, she slapped in a fresh one before the hollow container clanked off the metal. Spotting a Bearcat head bobbing behind a backhoe catty-corner to her, she carefully homed in, patiently holding her MRG steady. Taking slow breaths, she waited for her prey to reveal just enough of himself to seal his doom.

  “Com’on,” she whispered. “Here kitty, kitty, kitty.”

  The black armor and leather clad head poked up. Its piercing yellow eyes looked directly at her, but only for a brief moment. A single shot ruptured his head. A pair of legionnaires ran past. The one closest stopped in her tracks. Her body shook violently from numerous impacts. The surviving attacker dove for cover. He returned fire as he flew through the air and hit the one responsible for his fallen comrade.

  Consulting her tac map, Thomas saw the enemy position collapsing. The soldiers under her command had fully exploited the lane her assault had opened. Soon, the entire warehouse was under their control.

  ***

  The chaos of battle played out all around Trent. He stared at the suspected enemy headquarters from behind a small vehicle. Turning, he removed his attention from the target. Leaning against cover, the full scope of the carnage came into view.

  A thin veil of smoke drifted over the bodies of both races dotting the common space between the buildings. The faint humming of MRGs could be heard sporadically during the short-lived lulls of the louder enemy fire and exploding grenades.

  Trent studied the tac map before making the final drive. The avenue his cohorts cut through the base seemed to be holding. He deployed the vast majority of the troops under his command to ensure the knife thrust wasn’t sawed off and isolated. He returned attention to the building with extensive communication equipment on its roof.

  On his order, two centuries would assault the well-defended structure. The element of surprise no longer aided their attack. The enemy troops were now ready for a fight and knew the Legion objective. The soldiers guarding the two-story building weren’t rear guard, but frontline regulars carrying their frightening rifles.

  The dug in defenders waited under the warm security of their barricades. Their murderous eyes peered out onto the fifty meters of no-man’s-land. Trent dared not cross it in an exposed frontal attack. The automated torrents on the roof alone would mow them down.

  I need cover.

  To gain the necessary advantage, he ordered the squads clearing the buildings flanking the front of the command post to take positions on the roof.

  “Monroe and Goldberg, are you in position?”

  “Ready, sir.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “On my word, fire every last damn grenade you have. I want the automated defenses taken out first and then lay down covering fire. Understood?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Looking right, then left, Trent took in the configuration of his century. Ten squads used whatever objects they could find: fresh rubble, small structures, and vehicles of all types, to conceal themselves.

  Focusing back on the target, he shouted, “Give ‘em hell!”

  Thunder rained down from the flanking rooftops. Nearly a full century spat a vicious fury upon the enemy position. So many grenades detonated that it became impossible to distinguish individual explosions. One continuous loud roar washed over the attackers and defenders alike. Smoke consumed the command post. A proper determination of the full extent of the damage was difficult, even with Sweeties’ help.

  Not wanting to blunt the edge of the confusion caused by the barrage, Trent commanded, “Charge!”

  The ground force’s lead wave let loose with their own grenades. These were set to explode on impact. They would allow the smoke to hinder range finders.

  After a few full strides, they found themselves engulfed in the fog of war.

  The Bearcats opened fire.

  Repeated bangs rang out from the barricades. Despite the blindness of the shots, some still found their awful marks. Human cries of pain and death blended into the sounds of war.

  Legionnaires fell, but the charge didn’t falter.

  A stiff breeze blew away some of the smoke. Enough for Trent to navigate into a natural break in the enemy line.

  “Sweetie, highlight this nav point and send to th
e surrounding units to rally toward it.” He made for the hole.

  Soldiers on his side disappeared, but he ran harder. An enemy grenade landed at his feet, but his legs carried him out of its range. While holding the MRG in his left hand, Trent took the sidearm into his right. Meters from the breech, he leaped head first, twisting himself in midair to land on his back.

  With eyes staring straight ahead into the sky, he focused on the dual crosshairs Sweetie provided him on the visor with peripheral vision. The small crosses floated from one enemy to the next along each side of the fortifications. Trent dispatched the out-flanked enemy one by one. When enough fell to create a little distance, he switched to grenades. He didn’t have time to set the ranges and opted for “set for impact.” After unloading five grenades on the left, he dropped the sidearm. Taking the MRG in both hands, he exhausted the rest of the grenades on the right. Finishing the roll, he jumped to his feet.

  Dozens of legionnaires flowed past him into the shattered defenses. The tantalizing taste of pending victory settled seductively on his tongue. The wicked, sinful sensation brought an evil grin to his face.

  ***

  At the back of the warehouse, Thomas discovered a housing complex for the mineworkers her team had eliminated. When a hasty sweep uncovered no more enemy troops, she sent a squad out the entrance of her creation and led the other four squads out of the living area to rejoin the fight.

  The morning sun bathed her as she carefully crept out. The door led to a recreation area. It resembled a basketball court, but instead of the hoops hanging parallel to the ground, they stood on their side.

  Gunfire and grenade blasts met her ears from all directions. The commotion confused her on which direction to direct her next efforts. She was about to bring up the tac map when Sergeant Roth came over the com-link.

  “Captain! Captain Thomas, do you read me? My HUD says you’re nearby.”

  Taking a knee by the warehouse’s corner, she answered back.

  “I read you, Sergeant. Go ahead.”

  “I…I’m trapped,” Roth said short of breath. “My squad was ambushed. They’re all dead...everyone is gone. Gone!”

  “Take it easy, Roth. I’m on my way. Hold tight and stay alive.”

  Roth replied, “They’re all dead. I got them killed. I got them all killed.”

  “Hang in there dam’it! Wingman, set nav point on Sergeant Roth. Move out.” Thomas stood up, pointing to her left. “She’s on the other side of that building.”

  The soldiers moved with brisk but cautious steps toward their comrade. Shots chipped at the pavement under their boots as they crossed the street. Shrapnel peppered their legs with tiny fragments. Within seconds, the relief force walked along the wall of the barracks separating them from Roth. The heavy shots of numerous Bearcat rifles pounded the air. Slowly moving to the corner, Thomas slipped her barrel around to survey the situation.

  A dozen or so enemy troops embedded in a decorative rock garden to the far right and more from inside the building threw round after round at the bucket of a dump truck. The misses clanked loudly against the solid metal frame. A lone MRG barrel periodically appeared over the rim of the bucket to offer stubborn defiance. The tattered corpses of nearly two full squads of legionnaires lay dead around the truck.

  “Sergeant Roth, are you in the back of the dump truck?”

  An enemy grenade exploded beside the truck. The ground shook.

  “Christ...it’s me, Captain.”

  “Keep their attention. We’ll take care of the rest.”

  “That’s the only thing I can do.”

  Pivoting to face her unit, Thomas rattled off orders, “Alpha is on me. Bravo, Charlie you get in here through these windows and clear this damn building. Delta, I want you to work your way around this building and be ready to rush in if we need you. Everyone got it?”

  “Yes, sir!”

  “Get moving then. Alpha and I open up on these fuckers in thirty seconds.”

  The final words hadn’t escaped her helmet before windows broke and Delta took off on its run. It only took twenty seconds for Bravo and Charlie to begin the show.

  A deafening bang emanating through the wall behind Thomas signaled the destruction of the Bearcats firing out the windows. Peering around the corner with the MRG, she witnessed smoke barrel out. Paralyzed with shock, the troops by the boulders ceased fire.

  Thomas shouted, “Now!”

  She and Alpha ran out screaming. They hurled a volley of death at the enemy. BBs and grenades slammed into flesh and rock, sending blue blood and body parts flying.

  Running for the truck, she held the trigger long after the need to had passed, stopping only after reaching the endangered sergeant. Standing guard below the back end of the bucket, she called out, “It’s clear, Sergeant.”

  Roth rose, slowly walking to the end. Jumping down, she landed with a thud next to Thomas.

  “Thanks for coming, Captain,” she said. “We were heading for this building when they...they cut us down. I led them right in to an ambush. I’m the only one to make it out. It’s not right. I should be dead too.”

  Thomas placed a hand on Roth’s shoulder.

  “It’s war, Sergeant. These things happen. It’s no one’s fault. Let’s go and get you some revenge.”

  ***

  Trent threw his body against the headquarters outside entrance. Bodies of the defenders littered the small courtyard surrounding the structure. Their blood blanketed the smooth gray surface in an uneven coat.

  “Major Jones,” Trent said on a wide channel. “Take command out here. Secure the area around the building. I’m going in with squads Foxtrot through Juliet. Bring up reinforcements if needed. Just hold this position!”

  “You heard the, Colonel,” Jones shouted. “Alpha, Bravo, Charlie, Delta, and Echo on me outside. Foxtrot, Golf, Hotel, India, and Juliet rally around the colonel for incursion. Move it! Move it!”

  Scores of blurs scurried left and right as the lead century divided itself into two parts. Anxious to strike while the iron burned hot, Trent ran away from the wall several paces before whipping around. Raising the MRG, he yelled, “Clear!”

  As fast as they could be fired, a string of five grenades slammed into the door. A violent concussion reverberated off the metal. The smoke drifted away, revealing that the door still stood strong. Trent’s heart sank and his shoulders slumped.

  “Get some demo charges here. We’re gonna have to do this the hard way.” He kicked a dead Bearcat lying near him.

  The five minutes it took to gather the charges were some of the longest of his life.

  Every unit carries explosives with them next time.

  Pacing back and forth along the wall, he monitored the progress of the broader battle. The enemy’s tactical disposition degraded with each kill. The totality of the surprise combined with the Bearcat’s lack of numbers created an untenable situation.

  The shear hopelessness of the fight seemed to fuel the Bearcat’s lust for blood. They would die, but they were determined to go out in a blaze of glory.

  For Trent, the only question remaining was how complete would their victory be? Like a Roman general of old, he wanted spoils to present back home. The most promising prospect for greater glory lay behind the metal door mocking him.

  The charges detonated. A wide section blasted open for penetration.

  “Attack!” Trent darted out from the occupied barricades.

  Five squads of battle worn but motivated troops leaped from their own cover to join their leader into the lion’s den.

  Holding the MRG at his side, Trent fired five grenades into the hole. Each was set to go off a little further inside the building. Diving head first through the thick cloud of smoke, he somersaulted and ended up with one knee on the ground and his weapon ready.

  Taking no chances, he hosed down the room before he could determine its layout or the position of enemy soldiers. Following the tense seconds of spraying and praying, Trent darted to the l
eft for the protection of what he thought was a security checkpoint desk.

  He had finally gained an understanding of the environment he had launched himself, and his troops, into. The large room reminded him of a typical lobby, complete with a waiting area for visitors and a wide open set of stairs leading to the second floor. Causalities of flying shrapnel from the demo charges, and his grenades, dotted the entryway and stairs, Most still clutched their rifles.

  The squads filtered into the room.

  “Foxtrot head left. Golf go right. I want you to clear the first floor. Hotel and India, get up the stairs and start sweeping the second floor. Juliet, hold in the entry area. Respond to any request for assistance.”

  A few wounded and stunned defenders recovered enough to offer desperate resistance. The swarming invaders met sporadic and ineffective fire. A lame enemy trooper managed to stand at the top of the first flight of stairs and bring a massive rifle to bear.

  Reacting without thought, Trent swung his MRG to the right, letting loose a fury of rounds at the warrior. The pellets riddled the Bearcat’s weakened body, hurling him against the wall. The creature collapsed to the floor in a tattered mess of gore.

  Clambering over the desk, Trent joined the squads sprinting up the stairs. At the landing, the stairs divided, one leading left and the other to the right.

  “Hotel right, India left,” a sergeant yelled.

  Seamlessly splitting in two, the squads raced up their respective stairs. Trent tagged along with India for no other reason than he was already on the left.

  The squad of seven approached the final step with trepidation. The sergeant edged his barrel around the corner. It was met with a rolling grenade.

  “Get down!” someone yelled, sending eight combatants plummeting.

  An explosive bang was their only warning. They hunkered down further. Hot fragments zipped over their heads. The deep steps provided plenty of protection for the humans.

  The sergeant set the grenades to explode in a similar cascading fashion Trent had used on the way in. With his blood running hot, he launched ten down the hall as a quick thinking private had done the same down the opposite direction. The area erupted in twin waves of destruction. If not for the helmets, all would have lost their hearing for a short period of time.

 

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