The Last Hero

by Nathaniel Danes

  The loaded shuttles held formation at Earth’s Fist’s aft to await Captain DeWalt’s order.

  ***

  The enemy space station’s defenses joined the fight by unleashing their main laser cannons atop the center vertical structure, plowing its heat into the battlecarrier’s nose cone.

  “Helm, change course ten degrees to port,” DeWalt ordered. “Keep the soft points away from that damn thing.”

  “Holy shit!” Pate cried. “It fired at twice the normal range.”

  DeWalt calmly replied, “Welcome to the future, Lieutenant.”

  Another beam burned along the starboard side cutting a long scar the end of which found inner hull. Metal alloys strong enough to withstand almost any explosion withered away in the face of such concentrated energy.

  “Alert! Inner hull breech! Alert!

  Sparks flew, and the bridge shook from secondary blasts.

  Commander Sanchez’s panel flickered. For a moment, he feared it would go out.

  “Decks two through four, section A are breeched, Captain. We have power overloads, but nothing I can’t reroute. I have to warn you that we can’t take much more of this.”

  DeWalt nodded. “Tell the shuttles they’re a go. We can cover them for only thirty seconds, so they’d better make it quick.”

  The forty empty craft formed a crescent wall of protection with shuttles stacked four high and ten long. The boarding shuttles stuffed themselves tightly into the pocket. The flight to the station would be short, but deadly.

  Earth’s Fist already began a full turn when the formation zoomed across the pitted hull, allowing her anti-fighter umbrella to aid their cause.

  At full throttle, it would take seconds to reach their target.

  The station’s short-range defenses focused on them.

  Trent rode with his eyes closed, feeling his body pulled in a variety of directions as the formation performed evasive maneuvers and launched volley after volley of rockets to clear the gun emplacements in the landing zone. Their target lay directly in between two of the tubes leading to the center structure. This location would allow them to secure these critical access points as fast as possible.

  First four, then six shuttles succumbed to the well-aimed lasers. A final barrage before touchdown took out another nine, including one loaded with troops.

  Trent’s craft landed with a loud clank against the hull, despite the braking thrusters firing on full.

  With Earth’s Fist’s protection now out of range, the wolves charged once more. However, the swarming horde found not a squadron of balky craft ill equipped for the rigors of dogfighting, but thirty-one shuttles spread out across a friendly hull. Hitting the idle targets while avoiding dangerous damage to their own base would be no small challenge.

  Lasers embedded in the rim of the clinging shuttle’s bottom hatch burned through the thick metal as fast as they could. Railgun turrets mounted on top offered a measure of defense that only proved successful in making the necessary surgical strikes to dislodge them more difficult.

  The darts managed to pick off a shuttle here and there with careful aim, but the slow effort couldn’t prevent the inventible penetration.

  “Colonel, all shuttles report they are through,” the pilot, Lieutenant Kuckuck, informed Trent, who stood over the hatch ready to invade.

  “Phase two now!” he shouted.

  On the order, eighteen surviving members of the covering force abruptly disengaged their locks with the enemy base. Eighteen different points along the hull experienced explosive decompression, blowing out untold numbers of waiting Bearcat defenders, who had arranged themselves to counter the boarding parties. Their flash frozen bodies shattered against hard shuttle hulls and one another.

  It didn’t take long for the base’s atmosphere to vent. With the manmade storm over, hatches on the remaining eight shuttles loaded with legionnaires popped open.

  Trent jumped down into the lion’s den first.

  Crouching low with his weapon raised, he swept left and right. Fellow soldiers dropped all across the cold, deserted corridor. Only a few lingering bodies confronted the incursion, their mighty claws still gripping a variety of sturdy points that succeeded in anchoring them, but couldn’t provide their lungs with air once the explosions stopped.

  Trent couldn’t see the entire force dropping in because blast doors had closed in an attempt to localize the decompression. With the last of the men aboard, he looked up into the shuttle as the hatch closed, and it disengaged from the base. For a moment, he witnessed the chaos of the battle raging outside. Shuttles and dart fighters streaked past as lifeless enemy bodies floated by.

  The remaining shuttles zoomed across the hull, hugging it to squeeze every last bit of protection, holding their own until Trent could take out the base’s main laser cannon. Then and only then would Earth’s Fist return for their rescue.

  Redirecting his attention to the task at hand, Trent made sure everyone got going.

  “You all know your assignments! Start blasting these doors and get moving!”

  The plan was simple. One group would move to secure the tube on the right, while the other moved left. Once the space between the two points was clear, each group would be further divided into two. One was heading into the tube toward the center, while the other continued to clear the outer ring.

  For this fight, every soldier carried a potent charge of demolition tape, a powerful tool highly useful in cutting a hurried path through unwelcoming doors.

  Trent watched a private lay several long strips of the explosive on the barrier separating him from his target. Another soldier did the same on the other door. Finishing their prep work, the soldiers hurried back to their comrades, huddling in the center of the room.

  “Fire in the hole!” Sergeant Gabriel detonated the tape with his CAL,

  The tape channeled the energy of the explosions directly into the metal, opening an instant doorway. With no air to carry the sound of the blast, it spoke through vibrations on the floor that ran up the invader’s legs.

  Knowing this next section to be void of humans, Trent fired two grenades into the new hole, running in after them.

  Rushing down the corridor toward his assigned tube, he passed several rooms that he immediately assigned fire teams to search. He had no time for such diversions. He intended to capture the center personally, assuming it housed command and control.

  Reaching his destination, he found the door closed.

  “Blast this bitch, Sergeant Roth.”

  Leaning her MRG against the wall, Amanda grabbed her tape. “My pleasure.”

  ***

  Lieutenant Robert Kuckuck loved flying. He loved flying in space even more. As a child, he spent many of his days playing flight simulation games or constructing spacecraft from boxes and other materials found around his Brooklyn neighborhood. He couldn’t think of any other way he would rather die than behind the controls of his shuttle, zipping through space.

  A glancing blow to the aft section of his craft failed to score an instant kill, but had inflicted a mortal wound. The instrument panel buzzed and flashed a wide array of warnings to notify him of system failures he could do nothing about.

  Content in his fate, Kuckuck calmly resolved to make his death, and that of his co-pilot, who seemed less comfortable with the impending doom, mean as much as possible.

  Rockets exhausted and railgun dry, there remained only one option.

  Funneling all that remained of the dwindling power reserves to propulsion, he steered the beloved vessel, now his tomb, at the main laser cannon. Speed would dictate success or failure.

  Firing emergency thrusters, the shuttle hurtled toward its final objective, closing the gap between the outer ring and center structure with terrific determination. A Bearcat fighter witnessed Kuckuck’s charge and tried to stop him, but the shot flew harmlessly behind the swift human guided missile.

  Kuckuck didn’t close his eyes. Like the good pilot he was, he guided the shut
tle until its final moment, eyes wide and soul ready.

  His aim was true.

  The laser cannon erupted into a plume of brilliant light as its charge ignited, sending pieces of it, and Kuckuck, flying through space for eternity.

  ***

  A shockwave flowed through the station. The metal beneath Trent’s feet trembled. A rumbling sound originated from the passageway tube rolled to his ears via a hand he held to the door.

  “What the hell was that?” Sergeant Gabriel asked.

  Trent said, “I think our shuttles just scored a big hit.”

  “Maybe I owe them an apology.” Amanda placed a dense layer of demo tape on the door. “They might be better than I thought.”

  “I think we all owe them something after this,” Trent became inpatient. “You about done, Roth? This whole show is on hold till you finish.”

  “Don’t get your panties in a bunch,” Amanda snipped before remembering others listened on the link. “Oh, sorry, sir. I mean...I’m almost done, Colonel, sir. This door is thicker than the others.”

  On her knees, Amanda finished laying the final strip at the bottom of the door. Leaping to her feet she shouted, “Done!”

  Everyone hurried around the corner.

  Trent yelled, “Fire in the hole!”

  ***

  “Say again, Ensign.” Captain DeWalt didn’t dare believe his ears.

  The sensor officer repeated her earlier statement, “The enemy laser is off line, sir.”

  “How?” He was skeptical of the good fortune.

  “Not really sure, sir. I think a shuttle crashed into it.”

  He returned to the holo table.

  “Take us back in. We’ve got pilots to save.”

  “Aye, aye, sir.”

  The engines roared back to life as the battered and bleeding Earth’s Fist limped back into the fray.

  ***

  Hurricane force winds gusted from the punctured door on its way out the boarding holes, taking with it various materials.

  When the air once again ran out, Trent advanced to the breech, creeping along the wall with his MRG trained firmly on the opening.

  Without warning, a silver ball rolled through the gap. Its velocity took it past him. The device’s design was unknown, but he knew its purpose.

  “Grenade!” He lunged for the floor.

  A flash of light signified the worst.

  The com-link filled with cries of pain.

  Ignoring the screams, Trent crawled to the opening and stuck the barrel of his MRG into the hole. Unloading the grenade clip, he didn’t bother to take time to deliberately place the shots. He hoped the rapid succession of rounds would prevent another strike against the now disorganized force.

  Grenades empty, Trent blindly hosed out the room on full auto. The barrel zigzagged frantically in all directions.

  “I need more fire in this hole, dammit!” he shouted.

  Sergeant Gabriel immediately appeared on the other side, throwing his body against the barrier through his own hurried momentum. Following the example of his commanding officer, he peppered the unseen enemy with grenade after grenade.

  As Gabriel fired, Trent took the opportunity to insert a fresh clip of grenades and examined the room via the barrel camera.

  The bare circular corridor, roughly twenty meters in length, offered two possible areas of cover. Twin pillars, one on each side, were in the middle. Setting the range on his grenades Trent fired a pair of rounds toward each one. The ordinance exploded just past the cover for maximum effect.

  “Cover me!”

  Trent jumped to his feet, darting into the room, and angling for the right pillar. Seeing the left pillar clear, he got low and poked around his cover. There he found a dead Bearcat. It looked different from those he had previously encountered.

  As expected, a breather covered much of the face. Instead of wearing black armor and leather over most of the body, a square silver plate protected the torso. The grenade must have exploded pointblank as the center of the plate had caved in, splattering blue blood across the pillar.

  Others poured in. Some formed around Trent to look upon the curious sight while others began working on the last barrier in earnest.

  Amanda stood beside Trent.

  “That’s new,” she remarked.

  “Guessing a lot has changed in the last eighty years.”

  “Must’ve gotten stuck in here when the station went into lockdown. Looks like he lost his rifle to the wind.”

  “Yeah.” Trent turned to walk out. “Sergeant Roth, get us on the other side of that door ASAP. I’m going to check on the other teams.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Trent ducked through the hole. There the extent of the casualties became evident. Three soldiers were dead. Next to the red covered green suits, two medics attended to half a dozen wounded.

  He shut out the images to concentrate on the work that remained.

  “Major Jones, report. What’s your status?”

  “It’s a bloody shit storm here...sir!”

  ***

  Captain DeWalt ran a hand through his thinning golden hair. Placing both palms on the holo table, he leaned forward and exhaled. It had been a long day, and his beloved ship bore the scars to prove it. The sweat soaked gray uniform clinging to his body also spoke to the razor’s edge upon which the battle danced.

  Forgetting the surviving thirteen shuttles, the remaining dart fighters flew in a V formation to meet Earth’s Fist’s renewed advanced.

  “Tell the shuttles to find a safe spot on the base. We’ll pick them up once we finish with the fighters.”

  Sanchez said, “They’ll be within weapons range in ten seconds.”

  “Helm.” DeWalt straightened, his words dripping with confidence.” Do what you can to keep the exposed hull away from them. Weapons...you know what to do. It’s do or die time. No retreat.”

  Just before the darts spat their venom, Earth’s Fist tilted the forward section up. The timely maneuver caused the enemy fire to burn into the still largely intact belly. However, a few of the streams found satisfaction.

  “Multiple hull breeches!” Sanchez shouted over blaring alarms.

  A tremor, the product of a secondary explosion, shook the bridge.

  “What the hell was that?” DeWalt rushed to join the XO at his panel.

  Sanchez used a forearm to wipe sweat off his forehead. “A...a...an ordnance storage bay on deck five almost took a direct hit.” His fingers zipped across the panel. “Fires are raging all around there. Looks like the flames set off a couple of the conventional warheads. I’ve dispatched damage control teams.”

  Knowing his XO had done all he could, DeWalt hurried back to the display in time to see two of the enemy craft brighten then vanish. A quick count showed eight attacking darts regrouping for another run.

  “Keep up the good work, Lieutenant!” he said to Pate, too absorbed in the action to register the compliment.

  “Here they come again!” The sensor officer cried.

  The “no shit” comment didn’t bother the captain. The “get ready to die” tone in her voice did.

  ***

  “All units hold position!” Trent screamed. “All units hold!”

  He ran back into the corridor. A dozen helmets followed him.

  “What is it, Colonel?” Amanda asked.

  “We have a problem,” he said. “Change of plans. Team three has made contact with a large enemy force. Standard MRG fire is ineffective. I repeat, MRG fire is not working. They have shields of some kind.”

  Gabriel said, “For Christ’s sake, what the hell are we supposed to do? Throw spitballs at ‘em.”

  Trent continued, paying no direct attention to the snide comment. “Grenades still appear to work. Here’s the new plan. Teams three and four, stay on the defensive. Give up territory if you need to, just don’t get overrun. Keep me updated on your status.

  “Captain Simms and team two along with myself and team one will still
blast through to the center. If there are too many defenders, then we’ll all pull back and go to plan C. Simms, get ready, we blow both these doors in thirty seconds.”

  Trent took his position behind the right pillar.

  “Sergeant Roth, get behind the other pillar. We’ll fire crossing grenades into the hole. We all advance on our mark.”

  Amanda opened a private link with Trent to ask, “What’s plan C?”

  “I have no fucking idea.”

  The soldiers rushed into position. A steady stream of blurs passed Trent until only he and Amanda remained.

  “You ready, Captain?”

  “As ready as I’ll ever be, sir,” Simms replied. “This sure is exciting!”

  “On three.”

  “One.”

  “Two.”

  “Thr...”

  A flash of light blanketed the room followed by the now familiar windstorm.

  Amanda spoke again on a private link, “You really know how to show a girl a good time.”

  “What can I say? I’m never a boring date.”

  The corridor abruptly became still.

  “Now!” Trent ordered.

  Both slid around the pillars, aiming their MRGs into the new hole at opposite angles. Each fired a grenade set to detonate just inside the breech.

  Twin flashes announced the blasts.

  They rushed forward, taking position on both sides. Crisscrossing their barrels, they unloaded their clips. Their rounds were joined by those of Captain Simms’ team.

  Trent slapped his last grenade clip in.

  “Advance!”

  Ducking into the heart of the beast, a dozen defenders met the charge.

  Their spent bodies offered no resistance. Blue blood dripped down the silver walls. It soon froze creating odd-looking blue crystals.

  The curvature of the corridor was more pronounced than expected. A quick examination down either direction revealed no additional enemies. For a fleeting moment, Trent allowed himself to think this would be easy.

  The dream of a cheap victory gave way to harsh reality. Bearcat soldiers shot out of an elevator in between the tubes.

  A brief gust of wind foretold the strike, but it was an insufficient warning to prevent the legionnaires from being taken by surprise.