The Last Hero

by Nathaniel Danes

  So, they played chess.

  The game didn’t just serve as entertainment. It gave Trent a window into the Bearcat battle mentality and strategic thinking. Once the alien gained a firm understanding of the rules, a familiar and predictable pattern emerged.

  Controlled aggression encapsulated the prisoner’s strategic philosophy. Any clever plan Trent conceived soon descended into chaos, and he would have to contend with wave after wave of pawns, knights, and bishops throwing themselves against his neat formations. The constant assaults kept him off balance, forcing him to react to his enemy instead of the reverse.

  The attacks were not born of an overly simplistic theory of war either. Each one resulted in near equal losses in material, trading pawns, knights, and other pieces. Trent’s responses created holes in the line. Through these holes, his opponent unleashed its queen.

  Surrounded and deep within enemy territory, she would fall, but not before inflicting causalities and causing general havoc in his rear order, leaving him vulnerable to the prisoner’s reserve force of rooks.

  After dozens of matches, Trent knew that if he ever faced a Bearcat army in a pitched battle without the advantage of surprise or unable to draw them onto unfavorable ground, he would be in for one hell of a fight.

  Today, like most, he played chess with his “friend,” sitting outside the cell with a holo board displayed before him. The prisoner remained in his cell with his own board linked to Trent’s. For this particular game, the objective wasn’t victory but information.

  “I was hoping you could do me a favor today.” Trent advanced the white center pawn forward two spaces.

  The prisoner matched the move with his own pawn.

  “Haven’t you grown tired of asking me to betray my people? I will never do that. You should know that by now.”

  The game progressed unhindered by the discussion.

  “Yes, yes. I didn’t plan to ask you the location of your home world or about your tech.”

  “Then what is it you desire from me?”

  “Your name.”

  The beast paused, perhaps contemplating his next move on the board or in the conversation.

  “I guess telling you my name won’t betray my cause.”

  “Thank you. I’ve grown tired of referring to you as the Bearcat or prisoner.”

  Lifting his yellow eyes from the board, he looked at Trent.

  “I am High Commander Hido Kenti. I am your prisoner; you may refer to me as Hido.”

  “You and your men fought bravely. In my eyes, you’ve earned the right to be called High Commander Kenti,” Trent said.

  “Your words flatter me, but I fear my people wouldn’t share your opinion of my efforts. Not only was I defeated, but I allowed myself to be captured alive. Those actions are unforgivable.”

  “Nonsense,” Trent protested. “Once your fleet was destroyed, your fate was sealed. It was just a matter of time before we breeched your walls. As for capturing you, you were too busy fulfilling your duty to prevent vital data from falling into enemy hands to kill yourself. It was an honorable sacrifice. Dying would have been the easy thing to do. You choose otherwise.”

  “Perhaps I should be promoted then.” Hido smiled. At least that’s what Trent guessed it was when the sides of Hido’s long mouth pulled back, revealing rows of sharp teeth.

  He made a joke!

  The standing guard and Trent shared a glance of disbelief.

  Hido gave voice to their expressions.

  “You didn’t think we had a sense of humor?”

  Trent answered, “Honestly, I thought that might be a possibility.”

  Letting out a loud, but soft roar like sound that Trent interpreted as a laugh, Hido continued, “There is much about my people you don’t know.”

  “Clearly.”

  Chapter 27: Cold Winters Night

  The moist air hung heavy in the room that just a day ago had served as one of the makeshift water tanks. The small abandoned room was empty except for the recently added table and four chairs. It provided the perfect location for a casual game of high-stakes poker.

  Gambling remained a violation of regulations. Like many other things on this voyage suffering a similar classification, it meant the nefarious activity was kept quiet to avoid the appearance of a blatant disregard for the rules.

  The exclusive game became a common source of distraction for the original Red Baron officers: Maxwell, Jones, Simms, and Thomas. The stakes, IOUs good for redemption upon return to Earth out of their considerable accounts bloated from eighty-plus years of pay, and decades of compound interest on old royalties. Simms and Thomas each owed Jones a couple hundred thousand credits while Trent managed to stay even.

  He was alone, shuffling a deck of playing cards as he awaited the arrival of his colleagues in crime. The door slid open. He looked up to see Major Jones walk in stiff and tall as if an official reason warranted her entrance.

  “Have a seat, Major. Simms and Thomas should be here any second.”

  “That’s very optimistic of you.” Water splashed her ankles as she walked toward a chair. “Chances are they’ll stop some place to shag on the way.”

  “What can I say? I am a glass half full kinda guy.”

  Jones scanned the room. “Can’t say that about this place. Another one emptied out. Plum dried up.”

  “Yep.” He set the neatly packed deck in the center of the table.

  “Any chance of running out?” She studied his face for any sign of well-intentioned deception.

  “Nope.” He shook his head and pressed his lips together. “We planned for a margin of error. Besides...if we get low, we can always cut back more on showers.”

  “Hell no!” Jones scoffed. “We can drink less. It stinks enough around here with only one shower every nine days. It’s bad enough that everyone smells like rubbish, let alone accounting for our enhanced senses.”

  Trent intended to make a witty response involving European bathing habits, but the door sliding open stopped him.

  Thomas entered first with Simms bringing up the rear. He carried a small box under an arm.

  Trent said, “Thank God you’re here. We were knee deep into a personal hygiene conversation.”

  “Geez, Jones. I would have thought you’d prefer to talk about something you knew a thing or two about,” Simms ribbed.

  “Ha, ha. Seriously, Thomas, what do you see in this guy?” Jones pointed a thumb at him as he sat.

  “Lack of options.” Thomas deadpanned to a round of chuckles.

  Trent asked, “What’s in the box?”

  “Oh...a little surprise.” Simms lifted the top and reached in to pull out a bottle of Jack Daniels.

  Trent’s heart jumped for joy at the sight of the classic black and white label, but it crashed on the realization that the liquid inside was clear.

  “You brought that rotgut,” he said not bothering to hide the disappointment dripping from his lips.

  Simms produced four shot glasses from the box, setting one in front of each of them. He filled the glasses with the white lightning.

  “These guys have gotten a lot better over the past couple of months.”

  Thomas said, “Sadly, there’s been plenty of time for practice.”

  “Dare I ask how you procured this illegal spirit?” Jones inquired.

  “Not at all.” Thomas smiled. “I caught a couple of privates with it and of course duty compelled me to confiscate the hooch.”

  The four took hold of their drinks.

  Holding his high, Trent offered a sarcastic toast, “To the Legion. Without it, I wouldn’t be here with all of you.”

  The others followed suit before all kicked back the harsh beverage.

  Simms violently winced the moment the fluid landed on his tongue.

  Thomas coughed uncontrollably for a few seconds.

  Trent took a moment to recover and said, “Wow! Smooooooth.” His voice was hoarse until he cleared his throat. “Must’ve aged it in a to
ilet for a day or two.”

  Jones didn’t react to the insult laid upon her taste buds.

  Through small coughs, Thomas asked Jones, “What is wrong with you? Can’t you taste that?”

  “She’s British,” Simms said. “You ever see what the Brits consider food? Why I bet this would go real nice with a steak and kidney pie. Or maybe even haggis.”

  “Haggis is Scottish, you bloody fool.”

  “Scottish, British. All ish-es.”

  “Shut up and deal, Simms,” Trent commanded. “Jones, be kind and pour us another round.”

  “I said I’d follow you into hell, Colonel, but I think you may be asking too much of me now,” Thomas pleaded.

  Jones poured. “Please, if you have the stomach to sleep with this monkey, you can drink the entire bottle by yourself.”

  Simms opened his mouth to offer a defense, but Thomas beat him to it.

  “At least I can get laid around here,” she jabbed.

  “What can I say, I have standards.” Jones shrugged before tossing the cards out one at a time. “Texas Hold’em is the game.”

  The game made the hours pass faster. That was exactly why Trent played. He didn’t mind if breaking even was the best he ever did. After a while, the four reached their fill of cards and whatever the recycled Jack Daniels bottle held.

  With the hour late, the four officers separated. The calm activity of the third watch and alcohol skipping inside their veins emboldened Simms and Thomas not to care who witnessed their public display of affection. Thomas tightly wrapped herself on her lover’s arm and laid her head upon his shoulder as they walked down the corridor. The act aided her balance as much as it showed her affection.

  Trent and Jones watched the couple disappear around a corner. Turning to say goodbye, he saw the sadness in her eyes. He wished she had someone to help make the nights on this sorry voyage more bearable. Hugging her farewell, he did the best he could to provide a small measure of comfort.

  Back in his quarters, Trent indulged in a shower, thoroughly washing his body and lingering in the warmth of the water.

  Damn. I wish I had more than two minutes in the shower.

  Drying off, he glanced at the clock in the bathroom. It read five minutes before three in the morning.

  “Crap!”

  Throwing the towel aside, he darted to his Legion blacks laid out in perfect order on top of the crisply made bed. Hurriedly, he pulled and slid the dress uniform on before zooming back to the bathroom to straighten his hair.

  A couple of beeps at the door let him know a visitor waited outside.

  Running a comb through his black hair, Trent finished his preparations.

  The visitor beeped again.

  “Come in.” He jumped to the bathroom doorframe to strike a cool and in control pose.

  The door parted and in stepped Amanda, wearing plain black shorts and a gray shirt. Her hair was pulled back.

  Surveying the room, she took in the clean quarters.

  “Hello,” he said, grabbing her attention.

  Seeing the effort he went to, she smiled wide.

  “You didn’t have to go to any trouble for me.”

  “What...this?” He tugged at his top. “I’ve been hoping for a chance to wear it and figured this was a perfect occasion.”

  The occasion was their first real “date.”

  For over a month, they had met clandestinely at their special shuttle a couple times a week. While the conversation was always intimate, these visits never resulted in anything more physical than passionate kissing and light petting. Today, they dared to meet in the safety of his room and take their relationship to the next level.

  She walked toward him, throwing her arms around his neck. Looking into his eyes, she said, “You look very handsome. Thank you.”

  Standing on her tiptoes, she kissed him. Taking in his scent deeply, she remarked with a bit of shock, “You even showered! I wish I could have, but we enlisted grunts have set times.”

  “You smell lovely.”

  “Of course you’d say that. You’d say anything now if you thought it would help get me in bed.”

  “Did I tell you how beautiful your outfit is?”

  She smacked him on the butt.

  “Now you’re just being mean.” Her smile grew wider.

  “I have another surprise for you.”

  “Oh really? What is it? A girl can only take so much,” she said.

  “Look in my top drawer, under my shirts.”

  Disengaging from him, she went to the built in dresser. Sliding open the top drawer and reaching under a pile of folded shirts she pulled out a smooth, long, and square container. Her eyes bulged upon visual confirmation.

  “Is it real?” she asked in disbelief.

  “As real as it gets, Johnnie Walker Black Label, one-hundred percent twelve year-old blended Scotch whiskey.”

  Holding the bottle like a newborn, Amanda had yet to close her jaw but managed to say, “I can’t believe it. I thought the only thing left on board was that swill.”

  “I thought you’d like it.”

  “Oh...do I ever.”

  “There are glasses in there too.”

  “It can wait.” She put the priceless bottle on the table before taking purpose-filled strides to reconnect their starved bodies. “You just guaranteed that you are getting lucky, more than once.”

  Locking moist lips, their tongues explored one another’s mouth. Trent picked her up as she wrapped her legs around him. Taking a few steps, they collapsed onto the bed with him on top.

  Hearts pounded, breathing was rapid but deep.

  Amanda executed a perfect maneuver to wrestle control from Trent. Putting all her weight into his right side, she flipped him over, pinning his shoulders.

  The vixen smiled, lighting the room.

  Sitting up, she crossed her arms, removing her shirt in one smooth motion and revealing her perky breasts. Trent’s lustful eyes closely examined her mounds, the erect nipples called out to him. Gliding his hands along her fit body, he advanced, desperate to know how they felt. Amanda put her hands on his, stopping his advance cold.

  “Not yet,” she teased.

  Lifting her hands behind her head, the perfect breasts popped, as if begging to be touched. Trent twitched with desire but found the strength to obey his lover’s wishes.

  Removing the band restraining her golden locks, Amanda’s hair fell to her shoulders. Rushing over the bare skin like waves of sunshine, the sight took his breath away. Trent had never seen her hair set free. It magnified her beauty tenfold.

  Now ready to receive his touch, she reached behind his head, lifting and guiding it to her wanting nipples. Ever the good soldier, Trent obeyed this order, taking her left nipple into his mouth. Her head tilted back as she gasped for air.

  Trent’s experiences with Madison educated him on the benefits of being a lover enhanced with military grade nano tech. That had failed to prepare him for the ocean of pleasure that is two enhanced lovers copulating in a frenzy of flesh.

  The two made crazed passionate love for hours as they attempted to exorcise their own emotional demons with the newly created bond.

  When their sweaty, sticky bodies finally lay exhausted, they fell asleep entangled in each other’s naked limbs.

  Trent and Amanda slept a deep, dreamless, sleep.

  The cold of the eternal winter that was deep space had been chased away, at least for now.

  The bounty of no longer feeling alone in the universe carried over to the morning when they awoke to mutual smiles.

  After another, though brief and more tender love making session, they plotted Amanda’s escape from his quarters.

  With her gone, Trent was alone in his room, smiling. After a minute of basking in the glow, it dawned on him. He was happy.

  The foreign sensation renewed the soul.

  Chapter 28: Audacity

  “C

  heckmate,” the grinning beast declared when Trent’s
king flashed red. “That makes three for me today, and one for you. Your mind is elsewhere. It’s the only explanation for the ease of my victories. What occupies your thoughts?”

  “We are almost to the gate,” he informed Hido. “In two weeks, we’ll be in my home system.”

  “I see. I must say I’m confused. You don’t seem happy to be almost home.”

  “I’m happy. Just conflicted.”

  “Conflicted?”

  “Yes.” Trent pressed a button on the wall, removing the dual chess set display. “You know, we were forced to take a detour. It has been several decades since I’ve been home. My wife is dead. And...and my daughter may also be by now, either from age or some other means. I told her that I would be home in two and half years. Now I’ve missed her entire life. I may be going home...but what am I going home to? I don’t know this world. My world died while I was stuck on this bucket.”

  Hido stood and walked to the crisscrossed bars.

  “I see. I too miss my family, and I doubt they’re still alive. There’s a chance I’ll never see them again. What does it matter? We are but flecks of stardust in the vastness that is the universe. What are our troubles truly worth?”

  “I don’t give a shit about the universe.” Trent’s words became heated. “My troubles might be meaningless to the universe, but they sure as hell matter to me. And they mattered to my daughter.”

  “You did your duty. What more can be expected of a father?”

  “To be a father!” he shot at Hido, for no other reason than it felt good to yell at someone. “You don’t understand. My people expect more of a father than simply to set an example as a good warrior. We should be there for our children. Just because I have a good excuse for not being there doesn’t mean that I’m excused.”

  “I understand that you blame yourself for things beyond your control. Accept your fate. Embrace the path the universe has chosen for you. You are a warrior, Colonel Maxwell. Like me, it is what you were born to be. To fight against your destiny is to invite disaster. Your daughter will understand, if not in this life then in the next.”