by Easton Royce
The asteroid spun past him as he made the loop. Suddenly, Cooper was in his sights, heading straight toward him.
"Hit the deck!" Nathan shouted.
Cooper flashed past him, missing a head-on by a fraction of an inch. Nathan could have sworn he'd seen Cooper in his cockpit, his eyes squeezed tightly shut.
As soon as Cooper was past, Nathan pulled out of the roll. Behind him, the ships following him continued on their course. They smashed into the ship that had been following Cooper, exploding in a hot blast of purple and green fuel. A white-hot fireball was all that was left of them.
Victory screams exploded over the radio.
"Not so fast," Nathan heard Cooper say. "There's a bandit locked on Shane."
Nathan located Shane on his LIDAR. She was out of his range. A single bogie was close on her tail, and although she was trying every evasive maneuver in the book, the Alien fighter stayed locked on.
Cooper was closest and was already heading toward her. But with his crippled thruster he'd never make it. Nathan went full throttle, hoping there were no asteroids in his way.
Shane was all alone, and she knew it.
Damphousse, Wang, and the rest of the Squadron were out engaging one of the motherships. Only Nathan and Cooper were anywhere nearby. Although Nathan was coming up fast, Shane knew he wasn't going to be fast enough.
She jinked to the right, but not in time. A blast breathed across her right side, singeing the wing black.
She went into a full roll in a last-ditch attempt to free herself, but the enemy rolled with her and fired again. She cringed, feeling the blast hit her somewhere behind. She had no idea how bad the damage was.
BOOM! BOOM!
For an instant, Shane thought she had been hit again. Then she realized the shots had come from high above her. The explosion lighting up the asteroids around her was actually the Alien spacecraft—disintegrating into bits.
There were no words for the relief she felt or for her gratitude for her teammate.
"Hoo-yah! Popped him good, Nathan!"
There was a pause on the other end.
"But I didn't fire," Nathan said.
"It wasn't me either," said Cooper.
"But... who got the kill?" Shane turned her eyes in the direction of the blasts to see—
Starcraft carriers!
Not just a few, but dozens. With hundreds of Hammerheads. They were coming up from behind them and out of the sun.
The Groombridge forces had made it through the wormhole!
Hammerheads charged the enemy fighters, and the carriers fired off their heavy guns, devastating the Alien motherships.
Suddenly the highly organized enemy seemed to be moving at random. The Alien motherships changed course one way, and then another, as the Earth forces came in from two different angles.
Shane, Nathan, and Cooper watched in awe as every remaining enemy ship headed up and out, in full retreat.
The Earth forces continued to fire on the retreating enemy. By the time they were out of range, at least three Alien motherships had been destroyed, along with countless fighters.
Shane, Nathan, and West sat speechless in their cockpits as the rest of the 58th flew back and joined them.
"So, is that what they call 'mission accomplished'?" they heard Damphousse ask ecstatically.
"Looks like we just bought ourselves one more hour," Wang responded.
It was only as they headed back to base that they began to realize just what it was that they had done.
chapter 18
On the pristine Marine Academy grounds, President Chartwell addressed the aviators of the "Battle of the Belt," as the media was already calling it.
Cooper Hawkes stood in the front row beside Shane, Nathan, and the other surviving members of the 58th Squadron. The medal that hung around his neck was heavier than he thought it would be. Its golden spikes reflected the afternoon sun, giving it a spectacular glow.
It was still strange for Cooper to think that someone, anyone, would present him with a medal like this. He had never been given anything. But stranger still was the thought that this medal that hung around his neck was something he had earned. Something he deserved.
Chartwell's speech was long-winded, but as far as the 58th was concerned, it could have gone on forever. Rarely could the President of the United Nations be bothered to speak at a military ceremony—but the 58th had already become legend.
"Because of the valiant efforts of the Marine Corps 58th Squadron," proclaimed Chartwell, "the many peoples of Earth breathe a single sigh of relief. So today we honor them."
Applause rose from the huge audience in attendance.
Shane's sisters were there. So were Nathan's parents and brothers. And as for Cooper, well, the medal would have to be enough.
Chartwell continued, "I believe even that great twentieth-century leader Winston Churchill would agree when I say that never in the field of conflict has so much been owed by so many to so few."
The applause rang out again, but the 58th remained at fine military attention. Not even the glimmer of a smile could be seen on their faces.
"We of Earth are proud and grateful," said Chartwell. "Celebrate well... although we know this break in the storm is momentary. The thunder shall return, the lightning will certainly strike again."
It was a truth they were all painfully aware of. They had won this battle, but the enemy had not been destroyed. It would be only a matter of time before they regrouped and launched another offensive. This war was far from over.
Nathan West, Shane Vansen, and Cooper Hawkes had attempted the impossible, and succeeded. Thrown together by fate, the three of them had joined their strengths to save the world. They ignited the 58th into a fighting machine against humanity's darkest enemy, turning a losing battle into victory.
That evening, after receiving their medals, they gathered in the towering reception hall of the academy. Champagne flowed freely, and the 58th happily endured the heartfelt congratulations of everyone present, from the stoic handshake of Sergeant Major Bougus to the tearful embraces of Nathan's mother.
Shane Vansen, both stunning and commanding in her full-dress uniform, took the last two glasses of champagne from a passing waiter and brought one to Cooper. She had noticed how, through most of the reception, Cooper stood against one pillar or another clearly feeling out of place. Shane could tell he simply didn't know how to be social. All those years of loathing and prejudice the world had hurled at him had left their mark. It was no wonder he felt alone even when surrounded by so many kind people.
Shane handed him one of the glasses and kept the other for herself.
"You can step in and talk to people," she said with a smile. "They're not going to bite."
Cooper shrugged. "I guess it's not my kind of party."
"Come on over," she said gently. "We're going to have a toast."
Cooper nodded and moved with her through the crowd, toward Nathan, Wang, and Damphousse.
Shane raised her glass, but before she could speak, she noticed McQueen making his way to them. They all straightened to attention—not because they had to, but out of sheer respect.
"Congratulations," said McQueen.
Shane was glad he had approached them. She had been wanting to say something to him about his encouragement that day on the Saratoga. He had cut through all of the rhetoric and had reminded them of the point of it all: simple survival.
"Sir," she began, "your advice, your words that day, they kept us alive—"
But McQueen cut her off. "Save it," he said. "You'll have all the time in the world to thank me. I've just been assigned as your Squadron commander."
It was something they were all pleased to hear. But as was his style, McQueen cut their excitement short. "And if you ever pull anything like what you pulled in that asteroid belt while you're under my command," he said sternly, "the only metal you'll be wearing are cuffs in the brig."
McQueen walked away, leaving them all to pon
der his words.
Shane felt her spirits cave in a little. But she understood why he had said that. After all, McQueen was part of the old 127th, and he knew how dangerous a cocky attitude could be. The scars on his face would be a constant reminder of that. The last thing he wanted was to lead a Squadron full of big shots and hotheads.
McQueen's curt words made Shane realize, despite all this temporary glory, that someday, perhaps very soon, they would be out there again, flying in and out of the enemy's sights. No amount of glory would help them then. All they would have would be each other to keep themselves alive.
It was Damphousse who remembered the toast. She raised her glass, and the others followed.
"To Pags," she said.
"To Pags," echoed Shane. "And to being alive for one more hour."
Cooper Hawkes clinked his glass against Shane's, Nathan's, and each of the others'. In a few moments, the others had drifted into the crowd, pulled away by people anxious to talk to the heroes of the day. Cooper was left to himself again, alone in the crowd.
All evening Cooper had felt uneasy. It wasn't just the stuffy party—it went far deeper than that. He'd spent most of his life seeing the world as something he could use, something to benefit himself. Now, to his amazement, he'd found his place in the world—and it was with a team of pilots dedicated to saving others.
But he wasn't being entirely selfless, was he? There was something addictive about the excitement. Even now he longed for the rush of fear and exhilaration of battle. He had blown countless Alien ships out of the sky. He'd tasted victory once. He was ready for more.
It brought back to mind something he had told Nathan and Shane. He had said it to be clever, but now it struck home as something that was also true. He was a warrior. From this moment on, he would live a warrior's life. Someday he'd die a warrior's death. He hoped that day would be a long, long way off. There would be many more battles to fight, many more victories to celebrate first.
It was then that Pags's mother found him. She and her husband had made the rounds, congratulating all the others of the 58th. Cooper had disappeared into the woodwork earlier, not wanting to talk to them, not knowing how. Now he was cornered.
"You know, Lieutenant Hawkes," she began, "my son wrote about you in his letters."
"Is that so." Cooper shifted uncomfortably. "Well, I've changed since then..."
"He said you have a good soul."
Cooper swallowed hard, trying not to let one of his new, unfamiliar emotions out at this particular time. How could he tell this woman that her son might still be alive, if one stupid Tank had been watching like he'd been supposed to?
"Listen ma'am," he began. "About your son-—"
"'Pags's Payback,'" she said, cutting him off.
It caught Cooper off guard. She knew about that? He stammered, not knowing what to say.
"For the longest time," she continued thoughtfully, "I couldn't stop thinking that Michael's death was senseless, that it served no purpose. But now, I think about you and your friends... Maybe Michael died so there would be a 'Pags's Payback.' Maybe he died so that you would do what you did to turn the war. Thanks to you, I know he died for a reason."
Cooper just stood there, unable to say a word.
"I hope you'll visit us on your next leave," she said.
Cooper managed to mumble his thanks for the invitation, and she left.
He doubted he'd ever take her up on it.
But then again, maybe he would.
Long before the reception began to wind down, Nathan West stepped out of the great hall and into the silence of a cool night. The academy grounds were shrouded in the darkness of the new moon.
Nathan had shaken so many hands he could feel a cramp in his fingers. He had smiled so many polite smiles his cheeks had begun to hurt. And yet, through it all, he couldn't help feeling like an impostor.
He didn't feel like a hero. Despite what everyone said and what had happened out there in the asteroid belt.
Far behind him, he could hear the sounds of the reception. In front of him, a long reflecting pool shimmered in the gentle breeze.
Kylen...
No matter what he achieved, there would always be Kylen. He could not believe that she was dead.
Somehow, no matter how far away, he knew he would have sensed it if she had died. Some part of him was convinced that somewhere, in the endless reaches of space, she was still alive.
He thought of the letter he had written her that last day, before he had naively stowed away aboard the Tellus transport. The letter spoke of how, in so many million years, long after life had vanished from Earth, the sun would swell and then collapse in upon itself. How so many other systems, larger, older, would continue to breathe even as our solar system died.
If that's how long it takes, he had written, all right. If I must wait that long, then I will. Because when I think of this, nothing is more desirable than the hope of watching that last day, when the sun flickers out, with you beside me.
He knew, now more than ever, that he could never stop loving her.
Nathan gripped the medal resting upon his chest and tore it from his neck. With all the strength he could muster, he hurled it at the stars.
There could be no medals. There could be no glory. He would not be a hero.
Not until he had found Kylen, as he swore he would.
He watched as the medal spun end over end into the sky above him, seeming to disappear against the deep field of stars, swallowed by the vastness of space.
Table of Contents
prologue
chapter 1
chapter 2
chapter 3
chapter 4
chapter 5
chapter 6
chapter 7
chapter 8
chapter 9
chapter 10
chapter 11
chapter 12
chapter 13
chapter 14
chapter 15
chapter 16
chapter 17
chapter 18