Authors: Nathaniel Danes
“What happened, Amanda?”
Quiet tears rolled down her cheeks. Fearful others might discover this tender moment between a sergeant and her commanding officer, she spoke in a whisper.
“They’re dead. They’re all dead. I killed them.”
“Who...your squad?”
“Tw…two squads. Mine and another one I led. I walked us right into a Goddamn ambush. It’s my fault. I got them killed.”
Looking around to make sure no one would see, Trent pulled Amanda toward him. He pressed her head against his chest. The comforting embrace allowed more pain to pour out.
“Sssshhhh,” he said softly. “You and I understand the realities of a battle. I don’t think for one second that you got anyone killed. It’s war. Things like that happen. There isn’t anything you can do about it.”
“I walked them right to their deaths. Why didn’t I die with them? I should have died too.”
Trent held her tighter.
“Don’t think like that. It’s war. Crap like this happens. No one can make sense of it. We just have to go on. You’ve lived to fight another day. You’ll honor their memory by doing just that.”
Amanda pulled back just enough to look up into his eyes. The pain in her swollen bloodshot brown eyes began to subside. The sight brought joy to his heart. Taking her face in his hands, he planted a tender kiss on her forehead, paying no attention to the layer of grime covering it.
Stepping back, his tone became formal.
“I want you on the first shuttle to the
Fist
. I need you there to help coordinate the Legion’s extraction.”
Amanda wiped under her eyes with the back of her hands and snapped to attention.
“Yes, sir.” She saluted him.
Trent returned the salute and watched her walk away. His soul ached for her. The battle was over but for some the conflict would never truly end.
Chapter 23: Diversion
T
he post victory celebration quickly gave way to a mad dash of activity. The surviving legionnaires carried away as much of the enemy base as possible. After a solid forty-eight hours of pillaging, the critical plunder made an express trip back to Earth onboard the battleship,
United States
. The cruiser,
Lepanto,
remained behind to serve as
Earth’s Fist’s
lone escort.
Exhausted by the marching, skirmishing, battle, more marching, another battle, and pillaging, the forgotten friend known as sleep finally returned to grab hold of Trent aboard the shuttle ride off planet. The stress of freeing the planet’s gravity, however, cruelly shook him out of the well-deserved nap. The gentle glide through space allowed sleep to overtake him again, but it would not last. The landing clamps in the shuttle bay yanked him back into consciousness. The door whined as it lowered to a loud clank against the metal floor.
Releasing the seat harness, Trent noticed that Jones had slept through the entire ride. Jealous, he leaned over to take a hold of her knee and shook.
“Major, major.”
She stubbornly remained out.
“Jones!” he said louder. She startled awake.
“Wwa...what?”
“We’re here, Major, back on
Earth’s Fist
.”
“Oh, I...I don’t remember falling asleep.” She fumbled with her harness lock.
Trent stood.
His green suit bore several scars from the marches and battles. His tired eyes displayed the emotional toll of the endeavor. All he wanted to do was start on the way home to Anna and become a part of her life again. He hoped this time he wouldn’t have to make another painful exit. He’d done his duty and had his fill of glory. Finishing the war could be left for others.
“I know what you mean,” he said to a struggling Jones. “I fell asleep a couple of times myself. Didn’t stay that way, though. Wish I had.”
“I’m heading straight to my quarters.” Jones stood. They both walked out the shuttle door. “To take a shower and hit the bed. I feel like rubbish.”
“I won’t be far behind you. First, I’m going to swing by the med bay. Want to say hi to our special guest.”
More shuttles rose up from under the deck as they strolled down the walkway. Their boots clanked against the grated metal surface.
“I thought he would have gone out with the
States
? You know, him being the biggest prize and all.”
“The
Fist
has a more state-of-the art medical bay. They brought him here and didn’t want to move him after performing the first ever alien brain surgery. Not a big deal. We’re only half a day behind the
States
.”
“Makes sense, I guess.” She paused in the bay’s main doorway and jerked her head to the left “I’m heading this way. See you around, Colonel.”
“You can count on it, Major.”
Jones stiffened into perfect attention. MRG slung over her shoulder and helmet under an arm, snapping a sharp salute, she waited for its return. Trent didn’t make her wait long.
Without saying another word, the two went their separate ways.
***
Trent stood at the foot of the bed. It was two beds actually, placed end to end. This was the only solution. The med bay didn’t stock beds for patients three meters tall. Even in this fragile state, the Bearcat warrior looked mighty and powerful.
What a hostile world you must have evolved on to need much strength. I hope those restraints hold if you wake up cause I bet you’ll be pissed off.
The panel over the prisoner’s bandaged head relayed a variety of information on its status. A middle-aged male doctor moved past Trent to examine the dressing.
“How’s he doing, Doc?”
The doctor gently examined the wrapping.
“Honestly, your guess is as good as mine. I think his vitals are good...but I don’t really know what good is for them. They’re stable, so I guess that’s good. I’m not a vet so what the hell do I know. We couldn’t even use nano bandages because we don’t know how he’ll react to them.”
“Haaa.” Trent chuckled. “I guess we’ll have to bring a vet next time. Did you perform the surgery to extract their suicide device?”
“Yes.” The doctor finished with the old-fashioned cotton bandage.” Very interesting. I must thank you, Colonel, for procuring him for me. I enjoyed the opportunity to go fishing in his brain. Should make for some interesting research back home. We learned a lot. Far more than is possible with a dead one.”
“Glad he’s already been useful. I hope he has something to say when he wakes up, but I’m not holding my breath. They’re a tough species. When will we be able to talk to him?”
The sandy haired doctor pressed a few buttons on the overhead panel before joining Trent at the foot of the bed.
“Hard to say. I’m planning to keep him out for a good while, at least a week. I want him healed. I imagine he’ll pitch one heck of a fit once he regains consciousness.”
Crossing his arms, Trent looked over the trophy.
“Thanks, Doc. Let me know if his condition changes, if you can.”
“Not a problem, Colonel.”
Exchanging handshakes with the doctor, Trent stayed longer for a brief visit with the wounded. After Big Red, all of the wounded suffered lost limbs due to the large caliber rounds of the Bearcat main battle rifle. This time, many of the troops they faced carried a smaller caliber weapon, far less likely to amputate appendages. A shot to the chest might even be survivable.
Once the last of the wounded finished telling Trent how they earned their scars, he left the med bay for his room and, finally, peaceful rest.
***
Just as his return from the last mission, Trent let the shower wash away the mountain of filth that had accumulated on his body. Black streams flowed down his legs and off his feet. He enjoyed the water. Its warmth, and the renewal it represented. A page had been turned. His journey home had begun.
After shaving and brushing, he retreated to bed. He fell asleep before hitting the pillow.
Even with the reduced sleep needs, he slumbered a full eight hours. He woke only because his stomach realized the nutrient pack no longer provided the body’s sustenance, or the hunger suppressant that kept it from discovering its emptiness.
Following a solitary meal by deliberate design, Trent returned to his quarters where he laid in bed. He didn’t sleep; his body no longer craved it, but his mind was spent. He needed time to do nothing.
Nothing is what he did for nearly eighteen hours.
Emerging from the sanctuary renewed, Trent paid another visit to the prisoner and wounded before heading to the bridge to witness the jump to Alpha Gate and home. In a week, in his perspective, he would see Anna again.
Looking sharp in Legion blacks, he quietly entered the bridge, careful not to disturb the crew while they prepared for the jump. Computers hummed and lights flashed all around. Bridge officers scurried to distill a mountain of information for the captain to digest. A simple ground pounder, Trent couldn’t understand any of it.
“Glad to see you again, sir. Here to join us for the jump?” asked the smiling petite Asian ensign who kept him company the last time. Her near perfect porcelain facial features helped to make up for the lack of curves on her body.
He returned the smile.
“Ensign Lee, nice to see you again. Yes, can’t wait to get home. The
United States
through already?”
“She jumped about eighteen hours ago. Just us and the
Lepanto
left.”
“When will we head through?”
“Let’s see.” Lee turned to face the view screen. The rectangle display showed the view of space ahead of the ship along with a jumble of information along its sides. “Five minutes, and you’ll be a stone’s throw away from Earth, in a cosmic sense. Hard to believe after all of the fighting we’re leaving.”
“We got what we came for and nuked the base for good measure. They have to start over. We don’t have the ships or soldiers to hold any contested real estate.”
Turning her head toward the colonel, she inquired, “What exactly did we come for if it wasn’t to take and hold this planet?”
Trent focused on the screen, half trying to decode it.
“Information. We still don’t know a lot about our enemy. What and why were they mining here for starters. That’s all my first mission was about too. Hell, the first hundred years of this whole thing just might be one huge intel gathering operation. We’re feeling each other out. Learning how each other fights, where our resources are, and so forth. The kind of information we take for granted against human enemies.”
“Scary thought.” She turned her attention back to the screen.
“Which part?”
“Oh, just that this war could really go on for so long. Kinda liked to think the noble purpose for fighting was so our children didn’t have to do it. Depressing to think this will go on and on.”
Trent paused to chew on the ensign’s insightful words.
“You’re right, on both counts. Guess this is a new type of war. Survival of the species is the only real prize.”
Lee looked back at Trent and opened her mouth.
“
Alert
!
Alert
! Gate opening!” the ship’s communication system warned, sending the crew into a tizzy.
“What’s happening?” Trent regretted the stupid question the moment it fell out of his mouth.
“I...I don’t know.” Lee looked in every direction. “Nothing should be coming through… nothing of ours.”
Captain DeWalt, a tall, blonde Dutchman, sat straight up in his chair, tilting a bit forward. The gray uniform grew taught across his back. Without a hint of panic, he ordered, “All stop. Sensors to full power. Commander, please power up weapons...just in case.”
“Aye, aye, sir.”
Everyone’s attention zeroed onto the screen. No one dared to blink, for fear of missing whatever was about to happen. Without further warning, they appeared, as if by some dark magic.
Trent’s eyes see-sawed across the display, counting roughly seven enemy ships. One battleship, three cruisers, and three destroyers.
Guess Black Marble is very important to them. Wonder why? Not that it matters. I’ll be dead soon.
“Holy shit!” the XO gave voice to the stunned expressions on the bridge crew’s faces.
All but the captain that is. He never hinted as to how he must have felt.
“Helm, turn us around and give me all she’s got as fast as you can. Comm, get on the horn with the
Lepanto
and...”
“Sir!” the sensor officer interrupted. “The
Lepanto
is...advancing on the enemy. What the hell is he doing?”
“Trying to save your ass, Ensign,” the captain spat. “You crazy son-of-a-bitch, Cullen. Thank you. Godspeed, old friend.”
The screen and sensor panel lit up when the Bearcat fleet launched their attack. Dozens of missiles hurtled toward
Earth’s Fist
.
“There’s too many, Captain,” the weapons officer shouted.
“Get as many as you can son. Leave the rest in God’s hands.” the captain replied.
Trent watched the missiles close on the ship. He hated the sense of helplessness he felt in this type of fight. He wanted to go down swinging, but all he could do was play spectator.
The ship hadn’t come fully about by the time the anti-missiles batteries sprang to life, hurling laser blasts and projectiles at the advancing death. The fire proved effective against the first wave. The Bearcat’s sent another that simple math dictated would be too many. Just when it looked as if the protective umbrella of fire was about to be broken, the
Lepanto
came into range and added her guns to the fireworks.
A cheer rang out across the bridge. The XO pumped a fist in the air. The jubilation soon died. Enemy ships continued gaining speed and closing the distance
. Earth’s Fist
finished coming about but would need time to accelerate.
***
Captain Cullen leaned against the holo display, his calloused black hands gripping the edge. Unable to conceal his fear, a young ensign asked, “Orders, sir?”
Cullen stood straight, running a palm over his sweaty bald head. He didn’t mind dying. Death was something he had become accustomed to growing up in the Greater Kenya Republic during the African Union Disintegration Wars. He didn’t wake up this morning expecting this would be the day he died. Nonetheless, he knew what duty dictated.
“Helm.” His voice boomed. “All ahead full. Run the reactor at one hundred twenty percent. Weapons, I want every last missile we have launched. Keep them as busy as you can. We are going to give
Earth’s Fist
the time she needs.”
Charging headlong, the
Lepanto
closed with the enemy, firing missiles Cullen knew full well wouldn’t hit their mark. That wasn’t the point. He hoped to get within their nuke range and cause enough of a fuss to make some of them deal with him.