The Last Hero

by Nathaniel Danes

  “Rest assured, Colonel, I don’t intend for this to be the end. Fixing the beam is our top priority. We’re in no condition to fight anything that comes through that gate. Sooner or later, they will come. We can’t be here when they do. I still can’t believe they didn’t get any support. Makes me wonder what’s going on out there. What have we missed these past eighty years?”

  “Fine question, I hope to learn the answer soon.” Standing straight, Trent looked from side to side. “I should go check on my Legion. Let me know if there’s anything else we can do to help get us out of here.”

  “Oh, Colonel.”

  The words stopped Trent in his tracks. He turned and said, “Yes, sir?”

  “How did it go for you in there?”

  He took in a deep breath. It stank of smoke and death.

  “Lost two shuttle loads of troopers just getting there. Those shuttles took heavy losses. Inside, we lost another hundred. Could have been a lot worse though. They had some kind of personal shield that stopped our MRG fire. Thankfully, grenades still killed. Fought our way to the bridge, but they set the self-destruct. We barely got out in time.”

  DeWalt sighed. “At least no one can say that we didn’t go out swinging.”

  ***

  Trent felt useless.

  The 1st Legion was scattered throughout the ship. They were under the command of Fleet personnel, who used the manpower to help with repairs and to rescue trapped crew. Attempts to pitch in as mere manual labor quickly degraded as his rank hindered the efforts of those around him.

  There were times in war when a commander was irrelevant. This was one of those times.

  It took a moment of concentration, but he managed to think of something important to do. The holding cells were in one of the only areas not damaged during the battle. It struck Trent as remarkable that the corridor outside Hido’s room could look as if nothing happened when just one level up, a direct hit from the base’s laser cannon obliterated the entire section, killing all stationed there. The disparity in death and damage reminded him of how tornados back home in Iowa could utterly destroy one house while leaving the next door neighbor untouched. In war as in nature, carnage didn’t require rhyme or reason. Blind luck, fate, or God’s unseen hand chose who lived and who died.

  Trent wasn’t surprised to see the security checkpoint unmanned. Given the circumstances, it stood to reason that guarding Hido would be minimal to nothing.

  Before entering the holding cells, he readied the sidearm still strapped to his hip. The chaos of the engagement could very well have provided a warrior of Hido’s ability an opportunity to attempt escape.

  Typing in the code, he jumped back to offer verbal authorization from a distance in a battle ready stance to avoid being taken by surprise when the doors opened.

  “Guard,” he called into the room, “what is your situation?”

  “Bored,” came a sarcastic answer, “and ill-informed.”

  Lowering his weapon, Trent walked in. The guard sat, tranq gun in hand. Hido slept sprawled out on the floor.

  “Colonel, sir.” The guard sprang to attention. “Nice to see someone, sir. Was beginning to think folks had forgotten about me down here. Haven’t heard an update since the shooting stopped.”

  “Not much to report really. The ship’s taken plenty of damage. The crew is working fast to fix it so we can get the hell out of here.”

  Trent gestured toward the sleeping hairball. “What’s with him?”

  “Oh, yeah. Well...Once things got hairy I tranqed him in case anything happened to me, he was taken care of. He should be out for a couple more hours.”

  “Good thinking, Corporal.”

  “Thanks, sir.”

  Looking side to side, Trent ran a hand through his black hair not knowing what to do next.

  “You play chess, Corporal?”

  ***

  The particle beam, that all important piece of tech making travel through dark matter gates possible, came back online soon after an engineer ventured out onto the hull. A hunk of debris had jammed in the array. That was all that separated the wayward travelers from home. Once removed, the system worked just fine.

  With the beam functional, Earth’s Fist raced into the right position to make the leap to Alpha Gate and home.

  The damage was under control. All those who could be freed from metal tombs had been. This allowed dozens of crew and legionnaires to file onto the observation deck to witness the momentous occasion.

  Trent wouldn’t, couldn’t, miss the moment even though he feared what he would find on the other side. Was Anna still alive? Would she forgive him? The possible answers to those questions tormented him, but he had to know.

  Standing in the front row and holding onto the railing as if on a roller coaster about to plunge down a steep dive, Trent waited with a racing heart. Amanda stood at his side. Both still wore battle suits and dirty faces from the fighting. A brace held her broken arm in place for the nanos to do their work.

  None of that mattered.

  They couldn’t erase their smiles if they wanted to.

  The weight of a tightly packed crowd grew heavier against their backs with each passing second, pushing them hard against the railing. The commotion and excitement of the moment gave Trent the confidence to do something radical. Slowly releasing his grip on the railing, he slipped a hand down to his side. There he gently took Amanda’s hand into his.

  Mistaking the intimate contact for an accident, she at first recoiled, not wanting the touch to reveal their true feelings for one another. Exchanging looks from the corner of their eyes, she realized his intentions. Casually gazing around the room Amanda concluded their hands were the last thing anyone was paying attention to, even if they were visible in such a crowd.

  Eyes locked forward, she met his open palm with hers. Fingers intertwined as they squeezed.

  The particle beam fired.

  The audience breathed in and held.

  A continuous pure blue stream of light and energy cut across space. Impacting on the dense mass of dark matter, a swirling vortex appeared, the wormhole.

  The beam grew shorter. Soon, it barely registered as the tip of Earth’s Fist’s cone touched the gate. As if by magic, the view abruptly shifted. Instead of the vortex, they now saw a gigantic metallic sphere in the distance. Dozens of vessels orbited it.

  No one exhaled yet.

  No one dared believe that they made it home. They waited for a sign.

  It came over the intercom, broadcasted ship wide courtesy of the captain.

  An excited male voice relayed the news, “Welcome home, Earth’s Fist! You’re a bit late aren’t you?”

  An ecstatic, deafening cheer, not equaled in history, erupted from the crowd

  Some clapped so hard they risked breaking their hands.

  Others, delirious with joy, cried uncontrollably.

  A few grabbed the nearest member of the opposite sex to kiss deeply while others hugged everyone around them.

  Trent turned to Amanda. A single tear pooled under her eye. It started to fall, but he caught it with an index finger. He softly ran the finger down her cheek. She looked into his eyes.

  He mouthed, “I love you.”

  Amanda returned the silent words.

  Chapter 31: Debrief

  “Q

  uite a little adventure you guys had,” Major Roger St. Clair said. The young, handsome intelligence officer sat across from Trent at a plain table inside a featureless room.

  Clean and dressed in Legion blacks, Trent shrugged.

  “Guess you could say that. How long until I can head back to Earth?”

  “A day or two. We want to get as much information from you as we can before you head home. I know you have a daughter you’re in a hurry to get back to.”

  “She’s alive?” His eyes grew wide.

  “Oh, yes. I checked on it before I came in. She’s alive and well. You’ve got grand and great-grandchildren to meet too.”

>   A great weight lifted from Trent’s shoulders. He leaned back, his body relaxing.

  “Thank God. Thank you. Thank you for checking. I can’t tell you how great it is to hear that.”

  “It’s the least I can do for a living legend. I never thought I would see that mission patch in person. The first Legion mission ever, the first of so many.”

  “It really wasn’t anything more than a glorified raid against a lightly defended, insignificant outpost. The rest of that is the legend of the Red Barons brought to you by Hollywood PR magic.”

  “Maybe, but the intel you gathered there and from Black Marble have proven invaluable in the war effort. I can’t wait to play with your latest prize. No one, I mean no one, has ever delivered a live Bearcat prisoner.”

  “Really?” Trent settled his arms on the table. “Would have thought that by now someone would have tranquilized one of them in the battlefield.”

  “Tried that.” St. Clair crossed his arms. “That little device in their head detonates if they go out initially from a sedative. We tend to avoid hand-to-hand combat with a Bearcat. Knocking one out like you did before administering the sedative just hasn’t happened again.”

  “Yeah, well I was only able to do it because he was busy erasing the data on their computers. I got lucky.”

  “Nonetheless, I can’t wait to talk with it.”

  “Hido.”

  “What?”

  “Its name is Hido. Good luck getting anything out of him.”

  “You’ve gotten to know him?” He leaned forward, interest piqued.

  “He was a great distraction for me. We spent a lot of time talking and playing chess. All of which was recorded. I tried every passive interrogation technique in the book but don’t think I got anything really useful. Couldn’t even get him to talk about how and why this whole thing started.”

  St. Clair re-crossed his arms and leaned back.

  “Why didn’t you try anything more…aggressive?”

  Trent shook his head. “We had plenty of time for the slow approach. I didn’t want to damage him in case you intel geeks had developed a trick or two, like downloading his memories.”

  “We don’t have anything like that, going to have to do it the old fashioned way. I hope you don’t mind. Kinda sounds like you two have become...dare I say, friends.”

  “Ummm.” His head cocked to the side. “I always thought of it as a mutual respect, but I guess you could say we’re friends. That makes no difference. I know what must be done. So does he. I will tell you that I doubt he’ll ever crack.”

  “We’ll see. Tell me about the station you attacked to get here.”

  “It was the first Bearcat station we’d ever seen. Didn’t know what to expect, but whatever we found we figured we had a better chance of getting home than turning around. Just glad they didn’t get any support. If they had a battleship or a cruiser, even a destroyer, I doubt we would have made it. They could see us coming, can’t believe they didn’t call for reinforcements.”

  “I think our offensive might have had something to do with that.”

  “Offensive?”

  “Yep.” St. Clair threw his legs on the table and crossed them. “Biggest one of the war. Your timing couldn’t have been better. We launched attacks against ten of their worlds, including Black Marble, a week ago.”

  “You guys never took it back after we disappeared?”

  “Not yet. Sent a battle group through to investigate, but they were beaten back. Tried a couple more times to take it, but that place must be real special to them. They put a ton of resources into defending it.”

  “Ever figure out why it’s so important?”

  “Nope, soon. Oh, that reminds me.” Digging into his pants pocket, he pulled something out, tossing a black rectangle ribbon across the table. It bounced, hitting Trent in the arm. “It’s your mission ribbon for Black Marble.”

  Picking it up, Trent snapped it onto his left chest next to the Big Red ribbon.

  “Thanks. Don’t we get one for the station?” he asked.

  “It’s coming,” he answered.

  “Tell me about their shields. Our MRG fire was totally ineffective, just bounced off them.”

  “Oh, that. We encountered those a couple years back. They’re kinetic energy shields. They use the energy in an object’s velocity against it to stop its forward movement.”

  “Have we countered it?”

  “Yes, but we had to redesign the MRG’s firing speed and projectile.”

  “Wish we had those for the station. They would have made things a lot easier.”

  “I imagine so,” St. Clair placed his feet back on the floor and leaned forward. “Let’s talk some more about Hido.”

  ***

  Life in the service of humanity was spent surrounded by an inhumane environment. The construction of stations and ships for space were for war not comfort. Metallic hulls provided excellent protection from enemy fire, but their cold decor did little to renew the spirit. Battles on alien worlds further separated those of the Fleet and Legion from what made them human.

  The officers club aboard Alpha Gate Base strived to deliver its patrons a small taste of the land they left behind to fight for the survival of their species.

  Trent finished hours of debriefing desperate for a strong drink to take the edge off a stressful day. Expecting to find nothing more than a steel slab serving as a bar in a grimly lit room offering no luxuries outside a stiff drink and hard chair, he at first struggled to process the delightful assault on his senses.

  There’s light!

  Sunlight rather than artificial light hit his eyes, throwing his head back like it took a jab. Quickly adjusting to the glow of “real” light, he looked at the tall ceiling. Instead of metal, he saw blue sky with white fluffy clouds lazily floating along. Looking at ground level, he saw not walls but scenes of grass, trees, and rolling hills. Walking deeper into the outdoor scene, he discovered cushy chairs and a beautiful bar constructed of cherry wood.

  Almost at the bar, he moved closer to a tree in the middle of the room. Approaching slowly as if the small oak might attack, he touched it. Realizing it indeed was an honest to God living tree, he laughed out loud.

  Trent gazed at the miracle before him for a full minute. He explored the truck and leaves before continuing to a seat at the nearly deserted bar.

  “What can I get you, Colonel?” the bartender asked.

  “Whaaa...what is this? I, aaa...how?”

  “You must be from Earth’s Fist. Holy shit.” He pointed at the red ribbon. “You’re a Red Baron! Man, didn’t think I’d ever see anyone wearing the famous red ribbon.”

  “Yeah, looks like I’ve missed a few things.”

  “This. Awww, this isn’t anything special. Just a bunch of holo displays and a couple plants to make everyone forget they’re in space for a little bit. Guess it helps folks with depression and stuff like that.”

  “Gotta say...I like it.”

  “It’s nice. Can I get you anything?”

  “Black Label, and you can leave the bottle.”

  “That’s quite a tab. The good stuff travels quite a way to get here. You got the credits?”

  Trent produced his ID card from a shirt pocket.

  “Let’s just say thanks to compound interest it shouldn’t be a problem.”

  “We’ll need two glasses,” a familiar accented voice said behind him.

  “Why, Major Jones. I don’t remember saying that I was buying your drinks today.”

  “That ‘cause you didn’t, but I’m sure you won’t mind.”

  The barkeep swiped Trent’s ID and set two short glasses in front of them. Disappearing into a back room, he soon returned with the signature square bottle and angled label, both unmolested for centuries. Reaching out, Trent took it in his hands to examine the unchanged relic of the past. Unscrewing the top, he poured them each a drink. Raising his glass high, he offered a toast.

  “To the fallen.”
r />   “To the fallen.”

  The deep, satisfying clank spoke of blown crystal, a heavy container for an equally heavy drink.

  Sipping the decadent ambrosia, his taste buds explored the many flavors. Hints of fruit and vanilla balanced with sherry and smoky peat, and danced on the tongue.

  “Ummmm.” He savored the enjoyment and swirled the dark liquid around in the glass. Lifting it to his nose, he inhaled the sweet aroma.

  “It’s nice to see some things never change.”

  Jones said, “A little piece of the past.”

  Trent took another long, lingering drink.

  “Yes. How was your debrief?”

  “Felt more like an interrogation.”

  “I hear you. But I learned that my daughter is alive. I didn’t care about anything after that.”

  “Ooh! That’s splendid news, sir.” She shook his shoulder. “Have you talked to her?”

  “No. Security protocol won’t allow a live feed for personal use. I did send a message of my existence. She should get it soon, Can’t wait to get on the shuttle and head home. A year is still a long time.”

  “Didn’t you hear, it’s only eight months now.”

  “What? How’d they do that?”

  She kicked back the last of her drink. “Something to do with improved acceleration and deceleration capabilities.” She reached for the bottle, pouring another drink.

  “To modern tech.”

  Both glasses rose.

  ***

  While the nanos didn’t keep a soldier form getting drunk, they did prevent hangovers. Thanks to this engineering, Trent didn’t feel the unwanted effects of a night of hard drinking with Major Jones. The two happy warriors toasted and drank to just about everything they could think of. Anna’s health, the Legion, the Fleet, even the bartender warranted a glass raised in his honor.

  Trent would have preferred to spend the night with Amanda, but officer and enlisted quarters were on different levels. Neither could travel to the other without attracting attention. The inconvenience would be temporary. Their orders to take the evening shuttle to Earth came in that morning.

  Until then Trent’s schedule would be occupied in a meeting with the Forward Deployed Supreme Commander, the top man from Earth. He would close out his stay on the base with a visit to the wounded.