The Last Hero

by Nathaniel Danes

  The explosions turned day into night inside the building. Broken lights couldn’t fight against the dense smoke and dust filling the corridor.

  The sergeant sat inactive for a second longer than Trent liked.

  “Let’s move out, Sergeant!” He announced his existence. “You take three left. I’ll take three right.”

  The sergeant acknowledged the command with a nod. Six other members of the squad self-divided by moving to the wall of their choice. Firing a burst in both directions for good measure, Trent stepped onto the second floor and headed right.

  Flinging the door open, he stood tall next to the frame, covering two members of his team. They shot into the room, crisscrossing their paths for a quick sweep. Meeting no resistance, the four bolted for the next door.

  Room after room bore the bitter fruit of disappointment. Frustration’s sharp teeth sank deeper into him with each new failure. The team approached the end of the corridor. He could hear another Legion team coming close to meeting them at the corner. Outside the last door, he expected to do no better than before.

  The door flew open. Trent covered his charging teammates. This time, they found a prepared Bearcat.

  The first one took a rifle round squarely in the chest. His body broke apart like a child’s kite in a hurricane. Before Trent could take a clear shot, the monstrous creature grabbed the barrel of its exhausted weapon and wielded it like a club at the head of the other attacker. The soldier’s helmet didn’t save him. Blood spattered Trent’s visor when he squeezed the trigger, ending the valiant defense.

  In the back of the room, Trent noticed a curious sight. A Bearcat worked madly at a computer terminal. He somehow seemed unaware, or uninterested, in the events taking place behind him. Sensing a rare opportunity, Trent rushed forward, throwing all of his weight behind the butt of the MRG, planting it on the base of the enemy skull.

  The huge lion titled to the right, landing on the floor with a loud thud.

  “Sweetie, is it still alive?” Trent hovered over the trophy.

  “Life signs are stable, Colonel.”

  “Sweetie.” Trent expelled a mountain of stress. “Get a medic here now. We have to keep this prisoner asleep until we can take something out of his head.”

  The prize was his.

  ***

  The battle ended soon after the medic arrived to sedate the napping prisoner. He had on hand a pair of animal tranquilizers used at zoos on Earth. DNA taken from the aftermath of Big Red suggested it should work on the Bearcats. If the beast awoke for even a second, he could detonate the tiny charge in his brain. Transporting it to Earth’s Fist for surgery became a top priority.

  Trent walked behind the four soldiers carrying the present for military intelligence.

  They’ll pee their pants with excitement when they get a hold of him. The sense of a job well done gave Trent satisfaction.

  General Banks waited at the bottom of the stairs in the lobby.

  “Well...I’ll be damned. If I didn’t see it, I don’t think I would believe it. An old fashioned live POW.”

  “I am not sure the old fashioned part fits.” Trent removed his helmet. Sweat, grime, matted hair, and a short beard disguised the war hero as a homeless man. “He sure as hell is a POW.”

  “Fine work, Colonel.” Banks clapped a hand onto Trent’s shoulder. “If the Legion gave out medals, I’m sure you’d be getting more hardware.”

  “The mission patch will suffice.” Trent glanced at the prisoner. “This is an achievement for the entire 1st. How did the rest of the fight play out?”

  The general took a few steps into the waiting area of the lobby to make room for the tech personnel, scavenging for more spoils. Trent remained at his side.

  “From what I’ve gathered, we killed most of their heavy infantry in your trap outside the walls. Those we encountered in the compound were rear guard troops. We took them by complete surprise

  “Your center column’s knife thrust to the heart really seemed to throw off balance whatever response they could muster.

  “By the time you made your final assault here, their lines had collapsed. A few squadrons of their dart fighters made a desperate attempt to fly away. The fleet made quick work of them. We even managed to capture one fighter on the ground with only minor damage. They sabotaged the rest.”

  “Causalities?” Trent asked.

  “Even with all of our advantages...well...fighting room to room under any circumstances is a messy affair,” Banks commented. “They went down swinging and took a good number of us with them. Early count has causalities at twenty-five percent.”

  “Christ! Any wounded?”

  “A few more than expected. The rear guard guys use the less powerful sidearm. But still, eighty percent of them are KIAs.”

  “General, I have something you’re going to want to see,” Captain Simms said from the top of the first flight of stairs.

  His voice sounds natural, not muffled. Trent jerked his head upward. The captain had removed his helmet.

  “On my way, Captain.” Putting a hand back on Trent’s shoulder, the general continued, “Sit down and take a breather, Colonel. You did enough of the fighting. Let me take care of the cleanup.”

  Trent let his legs go limp. He slumped onto an oversized couch.

  “Roger that, sir.”

  Leaning his dirty head back against the large cushion, Trent closed his eyes. He felt himself drifting away to a seductive sleep when a familiar voice pulled him back to the living.

  “Colonel?”

  Slowly opening his tired eyes, Trent saw Sergeant Roth standing in front of him, helmet off. Even with a dirty face and blonde hair resembling a rat’s nest she was a beautiful sight amidst the sea of death.

  “Sergeant Roth.” He smiled. Her mere proximity lifted his spirits.

  He noticed that her eyes held deep sorrow. “What’s wrong?”

  Roth fought with all of her strength to hold back the tears. Warriors didn’t cry, especially female warriors.

  Seeing the tremendous pain her soul bore, Trent stood, placed an arm across her shoulders, and walked her to a nook out of view of the others. There he turned to face her with a hand on each shoulder. Her head bent down. Using his right index finger, he gently placed it under her chin, lifting her head until she looked him in the eye.

  “What happened, Amanda?”

  Quiet tears rolled down her cheeks. Fearful others might discover this tender moment between a sergeant and her commanding officer, she spoke in a whisper.

  “They’re dead. They’re all dead. I killed them.”

  “Who...your squad?”

  “Tw…two squads. Mine and another one I led. I walked us right into a Goddamn ambush. It’s my fault. I got them killed.”

  Looking around to make sure no one would see, Trent pulled Amanda toward him. He pressed her head against his chest. The comforting embrace allowed more pain to pour out.

  “Sssshhhh,” he said softly. “You and I understand the realities of a battle. I don’t think for one second that you got anyone killed. It’s war. Things like that happen. There isn’t anything you can do about it.”

  “I walked them right to their deaths. Why didn’t I die with them? I should have died too.”

  Trent held her tighter.

  “Don’t think like that. It’s war. Crap like this happens. No one can make sense of it. We just have to go on. You’ve lived to fight another day. You’ll honor their memory by doing just that.”

  Amanda pulled back just enough to look up into his eyes. The pain in her swollen bloodshot brown eyes began to subside. The sight brought joy to his heart. Taking her face in his hands, he planted a tender kiss on her forehead, paying no attention to the layer of grime covering it.

  Stepping back, his tone became formal.

  “I want you on the first shuttle to the Fist. I need you there to help coordinate the Legion’s extraction.”

  Amanda wiped under her eyes with the back of her hands and s
napped to attention.

  “Yes, sir.” She saluted him.

  Trent returned the salute and watched her walk away. His soul ached for her. The battle was over but for some the conflict would never truly end.

  Chapter 23: Diversion

  The post victory celebration quickly gave way to a mad dash of activity. The surviving legionnaires carried away as much of the enemy base as possible. After a solid forty-eight hours of pillaging, the critical plunder made an express trip back to Earth onboard the battleship, United States. The cruiser, Lepanto, remained behind to serve as Earth’s Fist’s lone escort.

  Exhausted by the marching, skirmishing, battle, more marching, another battle, and pillaging, the forgotten friend known as sleep finally returned to grab hold of Trent aboard the shuttle ride off planet. The stress of freeing the planet’s gravity, however, cruelly shook him out of the well-deserved nap. The gentle glide through space allowed sleep to overtake him again, but it would not last. The landing clamps in the shuttle bay yanked him back into consciousness. The door whined as it lowered to a loud clank against the metal floor.

  Releasing the seat harness, Trent noticed that Jones had slept through the entire ride. Jealous, he leaned over to take a hold of her knee and shook.

  “Major, major.”

  She stubbornly remained out.

  “Jones!” he said louder. She startled awake.

  “Wwa...what?”

  “We’re here, Major, back on Earth’s Fist.”

  “Oh, I...I don’t remember falling asleep.” She fumbled with her harness lock.

  Trent stood.

  His green suit bore several scars from the marches and battles. His tired eyes displayed the emotional toll of the endeavor. All he wanted to do was start on the way home to Anna and become a part of her life again. He hoped this time he wouldn’t have to make another painful exit. He’d done his duty and had his fill of glory. Finishing the war could be left for others.

  “I know what you mean,” he said to a struggling Jones. “I fell asleep a couple of times myself. Didn’t stay that way, though. Wish I had.”

  “I’m heading straight to my quarters.” Jones stood. They both walked out the shuttle door. “To take a shower and hit the bed. I feel like rubbish.”

  “I won’t be far behind you. First, I’m going to swing by the med bay. Want to say hi to our special guest.”

  More shuttles rose up from under the deck as they strolled down the walkway. Their boots clanked against the grated metal surface.

  “I thought he would have gone out with the States? You know, him being the biggest prize and all.”

  “The Fist has a more state-of-the art medical bay. They brought him here and didn’t want to move him after performing the first ever alien brain surgery. Not a big deal. We’re only half a day behind the States.”

  “Makes sense, I guess.” She paused in the bay’s main doorway and jerked her head to the left “I’m heading this way. See you around, Colonel.”

  “You can count on it, Major.”

  Jones stiffened into perfect attention. MRG slung over her shoulder and helmet under an arm, snapping a sharp salute, she waited for its return. Trent didn’t make her wait long.

  Without saying another word, the two went their separate ways.

  ***

  Trent stood at the foot of the bed. It was two beds actually, placed end to end. This was the only solution. The med bay didn’t stock beds for patients three meters tall. Even in this fragile state, the Bearcat warrior looked mighty and powerful.

  What a hostile world you must have evolved on to need much strength. I hope those restraints hold if you wake up cause I bet you’ll be pissed off.

  The panel over the prisoner’s bandaged head relayed a variety of information on its status. A middle-aged male doctor moved past Trent to examine the dressing.

  “How’s he doing, Doc?”

  The doctor gently examined the wrapping.

  “Honestly, your guess is as good as mine. I think his vitals are good...but I don’t really know what good is for them. They’re stable, so I guess that’s good. I’m not a vet so what the hell do I know. We couldn’t even use nano bandages because we don’t know how he’ll react to them.”

  “Haaa.” Trent chuckled. “I guess we’ll have to bring a vet next time. Did you perform the surgery to extract their suicide device?”

  “Yes.” The doctor finished with the old-fashioned cotton bandage.” Very interesting. I must thank you, Colonel, for procuring him for me. I enjoyed the opportunity to go fishing in his brain. Should make for some interesting research back home. We learned a lot. Far more than is possible with a dead one.”

  “Glad he’s already been useful. I hope he has something to say when he wakes up, but I’m not holding my breath. They’re a tough species. When will we be able to talk to him?”

  The sandy haired doctor pressed a few buttons on the overhead panel before joining Trent at the foot of the bed.

  “Hard to say. I’m planning to keep him out for a good while, at least a week. I want him healed. I imagine he’ll pitch one heck of a fit once he regains consciousness.”

  Crossing his arms, Trent looked over the trophy.

  “Thanks, Doc. Let me know if his condition changes, if you can.”

  “Not a problem, Colonel.”

  Exchanging handshakes with the doctor, Trent stayed longer for a brief visit with the wounded. After Big Red, all of the wounded suffered lost limbs due to the large caliber rounds of the Bearcat main battle rifle. This time, many of the troops they faced carried a smaller caliber weapon, far less likely to amputate appendages. A shot to the chest might even be survivable.

  Once the last of the wounded finished telling Trent how they earned their scars, he left the med bay for his room and, finally, peaceful rest.

  ***

  Just as his return from the last mission, Trent let the shower wash away the mountain of filth that had accumulated on his body. Black streams flowed down his legs and off his feet. He enjoyed the water. Its warmth, and the renewal it represented. A page had been turned. His journey home had begun.

  After shaving and brushing, he retreated to bed. He fell asleep before hitting the pillow.

  Even with the reduced sleep needs, he slumbered a full eight hours. He woke only because his stomach realized the nutrient pack no longer provided the body’s sustenance, or the hunger suppressant that kept it from discovering its emptiness.

  Following a solitary meal by deliberate design, Trent returned to his quarters where he laid in bed. He didn’t sleep; his body no longer craved it, but his mind was spent. He needed time to do nothing.

  Nothing is what he did for nearly eighteen hours.

  Emerging from the sanctuary renewed, Trent paid another visit to the prisoner and wounded before heading to the bridge to witness the jump to Alpha Gate and home. In a week, in his perspective, he would see Anna again.

  Looking sharp in Legion blacks, he quietly entered the bridge, careful not to disturb the crew while they prepared for the jump. Computers hummed and lights flashed all around. Bridge officers scurried to distill a mountain of information for the captain to digest. A simple ground pounder, Trent couldn’t understand any of it.

  “Glad to see you again, sir. Here to join us for the jump?” asked the smiling petite Asian ensign who kept him company the last time. Her near perfect porcelain facial features helped to make up for the lack of curves on her body.

  He returned the smile.

  “Ensign Lee, nice to see you again. Yes, can’t wait to get home. The United States through already?”

  “She jumped about eighteen hours ago. Just us and the Lepanto left.”

  “When will we head through?”

  “Let’s see.” Lee turned to face the view screen. The rectangle display showed the view of space ahead of the ship along with a jumble of information along its sides. “Five minutes, and you’ll be a stone’s throw away from Earth, in a cosmic sense. Hard to be
lieve after all of the fighting we’re leaving.”

  “We got what we came for and nuked the base for good measure. They have to start over. We don’t have the ships or soldiers to hold any contested real estate.”

  Turning her head toward the colonel, she inquired, “What exactly did we come for if it wasn’t to take and hold this planet?”

  Trent focused on the screen, half trying to decode it.

  “Information. We still don’t know a lot about our enemy. What and why were they mining here for starters. That’s all my first mission was about too. Hell, the first hundred years of this whole thing just might be one huge intel gathering operation. We’re feeling each other out. Learning how each other fights, where our resources are, and so forth. The kind of information we take for granted against human enemies.”

  “Scary thought.” She turned her attention back to the screen.

  “Which part?”

  “Oh, just that this war could really go on for so long. Kinda liked to think the noble purpose for fighting was so our children didn’t have to do it. Depressing to think this will go on and on.”

  Trent paused to chew on the ensign’s insightful words.

  “You’re right, on both counts. Guess this is a new type of war. Survival of the species is the only real prize.”

  Lee looked back at Trent and opened her mouth.

  “Alert! Alert! Gate opening!” the ship’s communication system warned, sending the crew into a tizzy.

  “What’s happening?” Trent regretted the stupid question the moment it fell out of his mouth.

  “I...I don’t know.” Lee looked in every direction. “Nothing should be coming through… nothing of ours.”

  Captain DeWalt, a tall, blonde Dutchman, sat straight up in his chair, tilting a bit forward. The gray uniform grew taught across his back. Without a hint of panic, he ordered, “All stop. Sensors to full power. Commander, please power up weapons...just in case.”

  “Aye, aye, sir.”

  Everyone’s attention zeroed onto the screen. No one dared to blink, for fear of missing whatever was about to happen. Without further warning, they appeared, as if by some dark magic.