Pat came around to take Hans's hand.
"Welcome home, me bucko. And another war to share with you, by God."
Emil, looking into Hans's eyes, took his hand after Pat let go. "We'll talk some more later." And the two left, Pat starting into the latest joke he had heard about the legendary innkeeper's wife, the punch line lost as the door closed behind them.
"And we'll talk some more as well," Andrew said quietly.
Hans nodded, started to say something, and then lowered his head.
"Go on."
"You're all just as I remember," he finally said. "That thickheaded Irishman with the courage of a lion, Emil always worrying about his patients. Kal, maybe more presidential but still the shrewd, wise peasant. And you, Andrew, still carrying the burden of a world on your shoulders."
Hans picked up his glass and drained the last of the vodka.
"Oh, God, how I dreamed of all of you. It was my only hold on sanity at times. I'd imagine myself back with the lot of you, or before then, back on Earth when it was just you and me and the old Thirty-fifth Maine. We'd talk by the hour, remembering together, and saying, at times, the things I wish I'd said."
"Such as?"
Hans tried to force a smile and shook his head. "You know."
"So we'll never say them, then?"
"What can two comrades say? It goes beyond words, Andrew. Beyond words. You haven't changed, and I thank God for that."
"But you have. That's what you're telling me."
"I wonder if I'll ever get home." He sighed. "Not now. Not after all I've seen, all those I left behind."
"We'll go back, Hans. We'll go back and end it. If you hadn't come from hell to tell us all, maybe we never would have gone. That's what you brought back. That and what you've given back to us."
"But me? What of me now?"
"You said you didn't have a home now." Andrew chuckled softly. "But you do. It's upstairs waiting for you. In the end, that's all we fight for, what's waiting upstairs for you right now."
He put his hand on Hans's shoulder and they left the room.
As they reached the staircase Andrew stopped, again wanting to say so much, but realizing that indeed there were no words for it.
"Thank you, thank you for everything," Andrew said finally. "And thank you for coming back."
Hans forced a smile and reached into his pocket to pull out the shred of a tobacco plug. "Care for a chew?"
Andrew smiled and bit off a piece. Hans pocketed the rest.
"A little memento from an enemy and a friend," Hans said. "I think I'll save the rest."
"Good night, Hans."
"Son, I'm proud of you," Hans replied. The two embraced clumsily and Andrew left him, stepping out into the warm summer night and returning the salutes of the two sentries by the door.
"How is he?"
Startled, he saw Kathleen waiting for him.
"You should have come in."
"No, I think it was time for the boys to have a drink and a chat."
He put his arm around her waist and they started down the steps.
"The children?"
"Tanya and Vincent came over, so all the children are tumbled in together. They'll watch them. I thought it was time we took a moonlight stroll together. It's been a while."
They walked on in silence for several minutes, crossing the great square, passing the occasional reveler who was still out celebrating the holiday for Hans.
"He's wounded in the soul," Andrew said. "It will haunt him. Gregory, Alexi, all those people he left behind. God, what a choice to have to make."
"You would have done it."
"If there was you, the children—yes."
"You would have done it anyway. As long as one lives, as long as one remembers and can tell, the Horde will never win. That's why he had to come back."
Andrew nodded, looking up at the moon again, realizing how precious the moment was and how fleeting it all could be.
"I love you," he whispered. "Always have and always will."
He drew her around to kiss her, and she giggled.
"So now that Hans is back you've taken up chewing again."
Laughing, he hugged her tight and together they walked slowly back to their home.
He looked up at the moon riding high overhead, its companion just breaking the horizon to the east. Absently, he felt in his pocket and pulled out a plug and started to chew.
Something to remember you by, you old bastard, he thought. In the camp below he could hear a scream, a human voice, most likely a servant who had committed some minor offense. The way the scream was cut off told him that the servant would never make such a mistake again.
So now it will start, he thought. Earlier than I had planned, but there will be enough to win. I learned much from you, how your people think, how your Andrew must lead, good lessons to know. And most of all, I know how to beat you. A bit of crisis created by you, Hans. But one that played to my advantage, for all saw just how implacable you were. How fierce in war, how determined to humiliate and destroy us. A few more umen commanders are gone now, conveniently blamed for mistakes they never made, and all will soon thirst for vengeance and for a wiping away of the stain on our honor. For that is now part of the appeal. Before, it was the war of the Merki and Tugar. But now it is our honor, our ancestors who shake their heads and will taunt us, and there will be no stopping us when the blow comes.
He sat in silence, the darkness of the plains below broken by a plume of fire soaring up from the factory where new crews were already at work, laboring as if nothing had ever happened. It was, after all, but a few days' interruption, but now the iron will pour, the guns will be made, the ships and flyers launched, and there will be a grim purpose as well.
Urging his mount forward, Ha'ark Qar Qarth, the Redeemer, rode down into the valley.
As he slipped into the room he saw her asleep in the moonlight, the baby nestled against her naked breasts. He undressed and slipped in beside his family. She stirred, smiling, her hand brushing his cheek, and then she drifted back to sleep.
He drew the two of them close into his embrace.
"We're home," he whispered.
Hans Schuder drifted into a gentle sleep, dreaming of a distant field that looked down on a clear blue lake, and in his dream he finally smiled.
William R. Forstchen
www.onesecondafter.com
www.dayofwrathbook.com
www.spectrumliteraryagency.com/forstchen.htm
William R. Forstchen is the author of over forty books, has a Ph.D. in history from Purdue University and is a Faculty Fellow at Montreat College. His broad spectrum of writing includes science fiction and fantasy, historical fiction, alternate history, several scholarly works, numerous short stories and articles and near-future thrillers ONE SECOND AFTER, ONE YEAR AFTER, THE FINAL DAY, and PILLAR TO THE SKY.
Books by William R. Forstchen
ONE SECOND AFTER
ONE YEAR AFTER
THE FINAL DAY
PILLAR TO THE SKY
WE LOOK LIKE MEN OF WAR
Lost Regiment series
RALLY CRY
UNION FOREVER
TERRIBLE SWIFT SWORD
FATEFUL LIGHTNING
BATTLE HYMN
NEVER SOUND RETREAT
A BAND OF BROTHERS
MEN OF WAR
DOWN TO THE SEA
Star Voyager Academy series
STAR VOYAGER ACADEMY
ARTICLE 23
PROMETHEUS
ICE PROPHET
THE FLAME UPON THE IDE
A DARKNESS UPON THE ICE
INTO THE SEA OF STARS
The Gamester Wars series
THE ALEXANDRIAN RING
THE ASSASSIN GAMBIT
THE NAPOLEON WAGER
Novellas, available online
"Doctors of the Night"
"Day of Wrath"
With Newt Gingrich
THE BATTLE OF THE CRATER
&
nbsp; VALLEY FORGE
TO TRY MEN’S SOULS
PEARL HARBOR
DAYS OF INFAMY
NEVER CALL RETREAT
GETTYSBURG
1945
With Raymond Feist
HONORED ENEMY
With Greg Morrison
CRYSTAL WARRIORS
Star Trek: The Next Generation
THE FORGOTTEN WAR
Magic: The Gathering
ARENA
Wing Commander series
ACTION STATIONS
FALSE COLORS
FLEET ACTION
HEART OF THE TIGER
THE PRICE OF FREEDOM
END RUN with Christopher Stasheff
Table of Contents
Title Page
Dedication
Preface
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
About the Author
Books by William R. Forstchen
Table of Contents
Title Page
Dedication
Preface
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
About the Author
Books by William R. Forstchen
Battle Hymn Page 33