You tough bastard. You almost pulled it off without dying.
Trent’s heart sank as he looked upon the body. He felt deep remorse for having incurred such a profound debt, one he didn’t know how to repay. He would fulfill Hido’s last requests, to tell their clan and that he live the life they both lost, but somehow that seemed far short of the full obligation.
Kneeling down, he spoke softly to the empty vessel as if doing so would aid the transfer of his words to the afterlife. “I don’t like good-byes, Hido. My recent history with them has left a bitter taste. So I won’t say that now. Instead, my friend, I’ll leave you with – thank you and ‘til we meet again.”
Amanda came alongside and wrapped herself around his arm. “He died bravely, giving great honor to the Order and to the clan. Our clan. I can’t think of any better death for High Commander Hido Kenti.”
“Yes. Yes, he did. But the final victory will seem somewhat hollow without him.”
The two black-clad Legion attendees locked hands and exited the airlock which closed behind them. Through a viewport, they watched the outer doors open and Hido’s body disappear into the emptiness of space. In the background burned the red sun of Kitright Prime as if saluting the fallen foe.
***
Minutes removed from Hido’s funeral, Trent stood around High Commander Gondo’s conference table. The overall commander of the land invasion beamed with pride from the success of the valley campaign. “Thanks to the plentiful pressure applied by our combined strength under General Maxwell’s leadership, the enemy has betrayed the source of their military assets.”
Gondo reached out to the globe floating in the center of the table and selected a city. The display zoomed in to depict it in 3D.
Gondo continued, “When the enemy contested our control of the sky, their fighters launched from this city. In fact, they emerged from a specific collection of structures near the city’s center.”
The map again zoomed in to display the buildings. Their dome design differed from the more block-ish form of standard Kitright architecture.
“Have scans revealed anything about these buildings?” Trent asked.
“Nothing of significance beyond the existence of subterranean tunnels that seem to link up.”
“I don’t understand,” asked General Mandel, commander of the 10th Legion. “If they had fighters, why didn’t they deploy them with their fleet or with their planetary defense network? They would’ve been far more effective coordinated with other forces.”
“Because they didn’t have fighters then,” Trent said, glaring at Mandel.
“What?” Mandela gestured toward the globe. “They just designed and produced that quantity of advanced aircraft that fast? I don’t see how such a feat could be possible.”
“Just because such a feat is beyond us, you shouldn’t assume it is beyond them. I think what we’ve witnessed was the Kitright learning and adapting.” Trent straightened and gestured with his hands as he spoke. “Think about it. The Kitright are a race of pacifists. It’s highly likely that they did away with war early enough in their development that their warfare never evolved to include atmospheric fighters like ours did.”
He let that sink in for a moment. “Sure, they met our ships with a fleet and battle stations. But we encountered only one class of ship that is basically a super enlarged version of their light infantry units. So far, their weapons seem less effective than what their technology is capable of providing. Their military units have also displayed a lack of imagination in tactics.” He shrugged. “What else could you expect from a people who only understand the most basic principles of war?”
Trent wagged his index finger. “But...but they are learning. They saw now effectively we used fighters, so they built their own. Even so, their programming still lacked a deeper understanding of the fine art of the dogfight.”
Eerie silence drifted in the air.
“Interesting and concerning theory, General,” Gondo said. “If true, we must move quickly before they adapt even more. Who knows what their factories are producing even now?”
Trent gripped the edge of the table. “I suspect, High Commander, that we will find out the answer to that question sooner than any of us would prefer. Still, I feel we hold an enduring advantage. There is a reason we invest considerable time and resources to train living soldiers and pilots only to put them in harm’s way, instead of simply building machines to do our bidding.
“Hopefully, if whatever they’re constructing represents a leap forward in the application of their military tech, the experience, spirit, and imagination of our men will carry the day.”
“Well said, General.” Gondo strolled around the table. “Hido always said the heart of a Bearcat warrior beat within you. I see what he saw.”
“How quickly can we strike?” The question came from General Kyle Cain, a battle-hardened vet who had started the war a private and worked his way up to command of the 18th Legion.
“We attack in fifty hours,” Gondo said.
Trent nodded. “I agree with the short time table, High Commander. May I suggest, though, that the units involved in the valley be used as the ready reserve. I would further recommend keeping one unit in orbit so it could respond to any unexpected situation on the planet’s surface that might arise with little or no warning.”
“Wise. What unit should we keep in orbit, General?” Gondo asked.
“The 10th Legion, sir.”
***
Trent believed visiting the wounded was a hallowed duty of a commander. The practice had been exercised from Alexander the Great to George S. Patton and beyond, and Trent wasn’t going to let it end with him. He considered it part of an unspoken contract between the soldier and the commander whose decisions had put the wounded on death’s door.
The contract highlighted the great paradox of military leadership. The paradox boiled down to this: a commander who doesn’t love the army cannot properly lead it. However, in order to be a good commander, one must be willing to destroy that which he loves.
Trent had loved the U.S. Army, and now he loved the Legion. He’d also destroy it if it were the only way to achieve final victory. He often prayed that it would never come to that.
Fortunately, such a devil’s choice wasn’t demanded of him now. He was simply visiting Earth’s Fist’s med bay to keep his end of the bargain. If truth be told, today he rushed through most of the visits with those wounded following his orders, and he was doing so for purely selfish reasons: Susan was here.
From the foot of her bed, he watched her stare off into nothing. Her dazed expression was probably a side effect of boredom and good drugs. The stump of her right leg was stuck into a transparent tank filled with nutrients and medical nanos that worked feverishly to regrow the lost limb.
“Heard any good jokes lately?” he asked to announce his presence.
“Just the one about the one-legged woman who got her ass shot down and landed deep in enemy territory.” She deadpanned the remark before finally looking at him and smiling.
“I’m glad you haven’t lost your sense of humor.”
“It’s the drugs I’m taking. They make it easy for me to think I’m funny.”
“I wouldn’t know.” He moved to her side. “I’ve managed to avoid spending too much time in the sick bay. Never been wounded bad enough to get the good stuff.”
“Yeah, from what I heard, the only time you ended up here was after your little experience by some lake.” Susan grinned, mischievously referring to the time he’d been wounded and saved by a half-naked Amanda. The incident had become a minor legend in the Legion.
Trent blushed. “There is no reason to bring that old story up. Where did you ever hear about that, anyway? I can guarantee you, the truth isn’t as good as the story.”
“Oh, Great Gramps,” she used her private nickname for him. It was a sign that the drugs were definitely working, since she normally wouldn’t use the term in public. Even so, it warmed Trent’s h
eart to hear her refer to him by it. “Even a ship as big as a battlecarrier is a terrible place to try and keep a secret.”
“I suppose so.”
“I’m sorry,” she said with an abruptness only made possible through the miracle of modern chemistry.
“For what?”
“Your friend, Hido. I would’ve died out there if it wasn’t for him. He gave his life so that I could have a chance. I know you two were close.”
He pursed his lips and nodded. “That we were. Brothers born of a mutual burden. But let’s not dwell on that. You’re here and you’re alive. Hido would want us to be happy. To carry on the fight for him. That’s what he told me to do.”
She slapped her good leg. “Give me a month and I’ll be back in my fighter.”
“I have no doubt you will. I just hope it won’t be over this planet.”
“Oh, hell, Great Gramps...I hear your ground pounders are hitting their capitol. I’m sure you’ll have this little adventure wrapped up in no time.”
Trent sat by her side for another twenty minutes and they talked about nothing of real importance.
It was heaven.
***
Thomas and Simms were the last to join the assembled group in Trent’s quarters. No doubt a romantic interlude was at fault for their mutual tardiness. The smiles on their rose-colored faces hinted as much, but no one faulted them. This was an informal meeting called by Trent. To this inner circle, formality wasn’t an issue under such circumstances.
A general’s quarters are luxurious. Or more accurately, luxurious by spaceship standards. Room aboard a spaceship comes at a premium. Nonetheless, the party had no trouble getting comfortable in the area available.
Amanda and Trent stood together by the credenza. Their body language broadcast their status as lovers. They didn’t speak. Amanda had tried once or twice but Trent was lost in himself. Jones and Gabriel sat at the round table in the middle of the room. Everyone stared and grinned at Thomas and Simms as they opened the door.
“I hope you weren’t too rushed,” Jones smirked.
“I do my best work under pressure,” Simms replied without missing a beat.
Thomas chimed in, “He really does.”
Jones held out her hand. “Please, no details.”
Soft chuckles filled the room. Trent thought it was nice to see everyone relaxed, particularly after the series of hard fights on the surface. The fact that they dropped back down in eighteen hours also hung over them like a dark cloud.
“Well, General,” Gabriel said, “we’re all here. What did you want to see us about?”
“As you all know, we had our share of KIAs dirtside.” Trent paused as they all remembered the fighting and those lost. “After reviewing the casualty reports, something occurred to me.” He swept the room with his arms. “We, all of us in this room, are the last of the Red Barons still in the Legion.”
He was referring to the famous first Legion unit. The term Red Baron was an invention of the propaganda efforts during the war’s early days. Holding claim to being the first humans to strike back in the Second Contact War had made them legends on Earth and in the service, a status none of them really felt was deserved. Between the losses on that mission and the Black Marble journey, plus a few retirements, only a handful of the original soldiers remained to partake in the current operation.
The room greeted the news with silence. Everyone contemplated all they’d been through together and all those they missed. Few combat veterans are fortunate enough to avoid some measure of survivor’s guilt, and no one in the room was able to do so.
Thomas broke the reflective silence. She and Simms moved deeper into the room. “General, I feel this is one of those times that calls for a drink. I’m going to just take a shot in the dark here and ask if you have anything around.”
“As always, Major, I’m well prepared,” Trent opened a drawer. “If memory serves you well, you might remember what we drank that first night on the Commerce.” The Commerce had carried them on the first leg of their first mission.
“I’m afraid us enlisted folks weren’t invited to that party,” Amanda said, looking at Gabriel.
“Yes, well...that was an oversight I’m correcting now.” He displayed a bottle of Johnnie Walker Black Label and a tray of glasses. Jones rose to hold the tray as he poured.
Everyone took a glass, but no one drank. The moment begged for a toast.
Trent raised his. The dark amber liquid swirled about. “To our brothers and sisters who marched side by side with us into battle but didn’t return. God grant them peace and rest wherever they are now.”
Thomas brought her drink to the same level. “May they watch over us in the coming battle against those whose lies plucked us from the comforts of home and placed us in death’s path.”
“We claim vengeance in Your name,” Jones added, raising her scotch.
“And in the name of those we left behind,” Amanda said, placing a hand on Trent’s shoulder.
“To the Legion,” Gabriel joined in.
“To...,” Simms paused for dramatic effect, “victory.”
“To victory!” The room declared.
A loud clank sounded as they touched their glasses before tossing off the drink.
For several hours, they did what many battle-hardened warriors do on such occasions. They drank, moderately this time, as they had a war to fight in the morning, and retold old stories of past adventures and old comrades. Tonight, the ghosts of the Legion were resurrected and remembered.
When the evening came to a close, all left save for Amanda. The look in her eyes told Trent she wanted to talk.
“You wanna talk about it?” she asked.
“About what?”
She sighed and muttered, “Men. Something is bothering you.”
“I’m fine.”
“Please...that I’m fine line might work on everyone else, but I know you better than that. So you have two options. You can either tell me what’s bothering you now, or you can tell me an hour from now, after I’ve nagged you about it endlessly. Your call … General.”
He looked at her and knew he wasn’t going to win this one. He wondered if he’d ever get to win one. “It’s just about the drop tomorrow and the battle.”
“Are you worried about the 1st? We might be fresh off a fight, but we’re ready and we get to at least start the battle in reserve.”
“No, not that. I know the 1st will kick ass.”
“Then what?” she said with eyes that burned. “Out with it.”
“Well, it’s complicated.” He paced. “The task forces targeting the other Kitright worlds are meeting far less resistance. It’s like those planets don’t have a production facility or something. All they had for defense is what they had when the fighting started. We mow those things down pretty effectively. We’re making great progress.”
“That seems like great news.” She cocked her head.
“Oh, it is. It’s tremendous news, don’t get me wrong.”
A pause lingered too long. She crossed her arms and nodded to tell him to continue.
“It’s just that ... that means this battle could really be the beginning of the end. The war could actually be over soon. It doesn’t seem real. It’s more like a dream I’m afraid I’ll wake up too early from.”
“Yeah, it does seem almost too good to be true.”
He wondered into the bedroom and sat on the bed. She joined him.
“Not only that,” he said, “I’m not sure who I am without the war. I’m a man out of his time. The only thing that binds me to this reality is the war and my thirst for revenge. What if I’m not happy without another battle to fight? I remember some guys falling apart when the Army disbanded. Maybe that’s me now? Can I really just stop? Can I keep my promise to Hido?”
He started to shake silently.
“Shhh.” She pulled his head down onto her chest and stroked his black hair. A few thin strands of gray ran through it. “You’re so
much more than a soldier, and you have so much more than this war. You have me. You have Susan. Hell, you even have that group of misfits that just left here. They’d follow you to the gates of Hades if you asked them. That means something, even if there isn’t another battle to fight.
“You managed once before to put your weapon down and begin a new life. A simple life. I’m not saying we have to leave the Legion. There will be plenty of work for us in peacetime. I’m just saying you, we, have options, and I know we don’t need some Goddamn war to make us happy.”
“I love you,” he said, wrapping his arms tightly around her. “You’re right. I don’t need this or any other war.”
They kissed and made love that night with the neural com-link between them open. As their bodies melded into one, so did their minds. Thoughts and emotions flowed seamlessly back and forth. Sex with an open link was something only to be dared between two partners deeply in love. When done right, the experience can only be described as transcendent. For a few moments, the surrounding universe melted away and there was only the one entity made of two.
Chapter Thirty
Last Stand
The father-son spy team didn’t waste any time putting into action the plan they conceived while speeding along the skylanes. Every second that ticked by meant IS was that much closer to capturing them.
The plan’s success rested on two key elements. First, Ericksen reached out to his extensive network of retired CIA agents. He mobilized a few for one last mission in service of the nation whose sovereignty they were sworn to protect. Second was the rally point for the geriatric army, a radio astronomy center outside of Phoenix, Arizona. As luck would have it, many of the agents in question had retired in the southwestern U.S.
The car carrying the precious data dipped below the clouds it had traveled in to conceal its movements. It descended rapidly toward the field of large bowl-shaped radio telescopes pointed at the sky. Time was of the essence. Despite their best efforts, it was only a matter of time before IS became aware of their intentions and quickly deployed forces to stop them.
The Last Revenge (The Last Hero Trilogy Book 2) Page 26