The Last Charge of the 1st Legion (The Last Hero Trilogy Book 3)

by Nathaniel Danes

“That was smooth,” Wyatt laughed.

  “Shut up and get ready.”

  The swift humans had put distance between them and their attackers. For a precious thirty seconds it was like there was no battle.

  Then they felt the telling thump, thump, thump of the enemy’s heavy footfalls. Troopers gripped their weapons tighter, sergeants barked orders. Thump, thump, thump. The vibrations shook ash off the sorry skeletons of trees still standing, sending a black rain onto the defender’s heads.

  Thump, thump, thump.

  The killing started.

  Frost emptied two grenade magazines and a rifle magazine before he walked the line. His men were nervous, fighting the jitters that whispered in their ears to run. They held, but he knew that wouldn’t last. It couldn’t. This wasn’t where they were supposed to hold. This was just to bleed the bastards, maybe kick in a few teeth if they got lucky.

  ***

  Walker watched the battle play out from the safety of her bunker thousands of kilometers away. The holo display looked like a chessboard, but those weren’t pawns dying. Who am I kidding? Of course they’re pawns. Sacrificial pieces for a grander strategy. They just happen to have beating hearts.

  The guilt ate at her gut like acid—literally so, actually, but the nanos in her blood kept the process from forming an ulcer.

  Wills zoomed in on the militia units pulling back again. He was the ground pounder expert and she was waiting for, counting on, his advice about when to execute the second phase.

  She stared at him. “Is it time?”

  “No” he answered without hesitation. “The militia needs to make another stand. I want them sucked in deeper before we spring the trap.”

  She nodded. Just more pawns for the slaughter.

  ***

  Frost’s back was against the wall. His units were nearly spent. On paper they still represented a significant force, but their nerves were frayed. They were still militia and in his opinion, had done all that could be asked of them.

  Wyatt cut into his train of thought. “We’re going to break soon, captain!”

  “I know.”

  “What are your orders?”

  “Let it happen.”

  “Huh?”

  “You heard me. We can’t hold and two divisions worth of troops are getting ready to bolt. No one is going to stem this tide. Do what you can to keep your unit together.”

  “Okay.”

  It started with one. Then pairs and small clusters of men fell out of line, running for the rear in dead sprints. In less than a minute, both divisions were in full flight. Frost went with them. He didn’t have any choice. His companies’ com traffic was a chaotic mess. He did what he could to restore some semblance of military order. It seemed helpless as long as the Silver Horde nipped at their heels.

  ***

  Walker looked up from the display. “It would appear that it is time. The militia made our decision for us. I’m sending in our counterattack.”

  He pressed his lips together and nodded. “They did well. Their rout plays perfectly into the plan. Couldn’t have organized it better if we’d tried.”

  “Maybe we should’ve.” Her gaze burned into him.

  He met her eyes. “Wouldn’t’ve worked. The militia couldn’t be expected to implement such a delicate maneuver. Better to let nature take its course.”

  “Just because it was the correct call doesn’t make it right.”

  “No, it doesn’t, but we can’t afford such luxuries.”

  ***

  Deep in a gorge carved from solid rock by water’s sheer force of will, Sergeant Luke Xavier, 9th Heavy Infantry Cohort, 41st Legion, pushed through a waterfall far from the fleeing divisions’ extreme right flank.

  The weight of the water rushing over his armor didn’t register on a physical level. The symbolism of emerging from concealment wasn’t totally lost on him, though. This was the first time an entire legion was entering the battle for Earth. He understood the need to husband their precious few elite units, but the months spent hiding while millions died took a toll on their pride.

  It was now time to earn it back,

  His metal feet thundered up the ramp. “C’mon!” he roared. “These militia punks have been dying while we sat on our asses! It’s time we show these alien freaks what it’s like to face the 41st!”

  Atop the gorge, he saw other cohorts boil out of hidden entrances. It was a trickle of force, but they had to attack while surprise was on their side. His squad of heavies were in the vanguard of the advance.

  The virgin forest they ran through gave way to a desolate landscape of burnt, blackened earth. Nothing lived here anymore. This was what the aliens had done to his planet. Humanity hadn’t asked for this war, but the legionnaires of the 41st were sure as hell going to finish it.

  ***

  Frost began to wonder if the broken divisions planned to clamber up the snowcapped mountains ahead of them. If they didn’t stop and get organized soon, they’d literally be caught between a rock and a hard place.

  That’s when he was stopped in his tracks by news that flashed in his mind’s eye. The legion was attacking.

  Officers and non-coms sprang into action, rallying their troops like possessed men. Fortunately, their legs had carried them far in advance of the enemy. The breathing space, in turn, granted them time to reform into something that looked like an army.

  Wyatt came running up to him. “What do we do now?”

  He looked back at where they’d come and squared his shoulders in that direction. “We attack, lieutenant! Grab ahold of whoever you can and attack!”

  “But division hasn’t ordered a...”

  “Fuck division, Wyatt. This isn’t an army. It’s a mob, and mobs do whatever they’re led to do by the first to act.” He used an emergency channel to broadcast into the head of every militiamen. “Follow me! Let’s drive these sons-of-bitches into the ground.” He let loose a battle-cry and ran. “All units attack! Attack!”

  At first only Wyatt followed.

  Then a few pairs did, followed by small groups.

  Soon a tsunami of raw courage poured toward their enemy.

  ***

  Patience wasn’t easy for Xavier to practice. Every fiber in his being wanted to turn toward the enemy and charge. That wasn’t the plan, though. He needed to complete the encirclement before seeking his revenge. A deep relief took hold once he turned left and accelerated. Every foot planted in scorched dirt sent a jolt through him.

  He ran until he met the headless beasts. The enemy wasn’t surprised, they didn’t panic at the sight of the rampaging humans. They simply brought their three arms to bear and fired. They were thin, however, dangerously so.

  Dodging a set of grenades, Xavier spun to bring both his arms forward. Double bursts from both barrels slammed into the mid-section of a silver demon. A long stream of MRG fire finished the effort. Pinkish goo dumped out and the machine froze.

  The first wave surged onward.

  George, his CAL (named after General George S. Patton), sounded the alarm. He dove for cover, avoiding a barrage of energy and projectiles.

  “Damn it.” The fun was over. It was time to slug it out.

  ***

  “Lay into ‘em!” Frost raised his own rifle to finish off a wounded drone.

  The militia line grew thick with soldiers eager to have at the enemy. The relative amateurs sent a wall of haphazard fire at the invaders, who were stuck in a killing field created by the blaze their weapons had ignited. The humans got lucky. Their counterattack had secured the edge of the untouched forest before meeting resistance.

  New flames were born in the battle, but the line held.

  Frost and three others hosed down a beast with streams of supersonic BBs. It melted away as if it were a statue of salt in a heavy rain. The effort exhausted their mags. Their target was on the blackened forest floor, twitching and combat ineffective.

  In one smooth motion, he slapped in a fresh magazine as he stu
died the line. Their fire was heavy but not focused. “Fire teams! Pick your target and bring it down together. Concentrate your weapons!”

  The flames had become too intense for them to stay. Some general had finally gotten his hands around the situation and called for a retreat. They gave ground on their own terms and established a new line.

  Frost stood behind a thick tree, MRG pointed downfield. Smoke from the fire blocked his line of sight and the heat screwed with his thermals. He waited with a ready trigger finger for specks of silver to appear in the mess, something to guide his aim.

  He waited and waited.

  Wyatt approached him, crouched low. “What do you think?”

  “I don’t know, but I’m not gonna sit here and wait forever for them to come to us as they see fit. Let division know I’m going back in to take a look.”

  “What?” Her hand snapped out to grip his arm. “Wait. Why do I need to tell them?”

  “Because if I tell them, it will be like I’m asking permission and they might say no.” He smiled to himself. “Don’t call it in until I’m in the smoke.”

  He took off like a rocket, zigging and zagging as he drew closer to the black. The fire crackled and flames licked his suit to no effect, for now. Wading through the inferno, he was able to see beyond it.

  The enemy wasn’t attacking. In fact, there were hardly any opposite him, a light picket at best. The 41st is giving them fits. They’re focusing everything on them and division is just fine with letting them take the blunt of it all. That’s bullshit. We need that legion intact.

  Frost fell back, out of the flames but deep enough in the smoke to conceal himself from his own line. He could see them between gusts of wind. He proceeded to do something stupid, or brilliant, depending how you looked at it.

  Pulling out a field-tablet, he utilized his spy tradecraft to hack into the division command channel to issue a general order to attack. The militia didn’t exactly rush forward in bloodlust, and command tried to countermand the order. He’d set it up so that each attempt resulted in reissuing the false edict.

  The confused and nervous troopers lurched forward. That’s when he stepped out of the blackness, pinging the CALs of the entire force with his location, to broadcast his call to arms, “Follow me! The enemy is retreating! We can gun ‘em down like pigs!” He gave an exaggerated wave forward and turned back into the raging fire.

  That did the trick. Thousands of MRGs emerged on the other side and smashed the frail line. The cheap victory got their blood up, encouraging them to charge headlong like berserkers.

  ***

  The Super Heavies had arrived in the nick of time to offset the weight of the enemy onslaught. Still, Sergeant Xavier wasn’t sure how much longer they could hold.

  He’d found a rocky outcropping and turned it into a pillbox, helping anchor the flank. It was a good position with lots of cover and excellent firing angles. The silver bastards could also tell how important it was and threw themselves at it with reckless abandon.

  “Here they come again!” a private declared.

  Xavier peeked around the slab he used for protection. Fuck! A continuous wall of silver was coming right at him. “Where are those Slayer-equipped featherweights I asked for?”

  Corporal Threader answered, “They say they’re comin’, but we’re hard-pressed everywhere. I wouldn’t count on ‘em.”

  “Christ help us.” He crouched low, bringing both arms out, and unloaded with everything he had. The tiny fort dished out an ungodly amount of punishment.

  It wasn’t enough.

  Counter-barrages turned the fortress red. Sheets of molten rock slid off. Their cover was literally melting away.

  Threader came alongside him. “It’s gonna get messy if we stay here, sarge.”

  Xavier turned and saw a growing pool of lava in the middle of their squad. “Damn it! Fall back to the other side.”

  The withdrawal bought time, but the thump, thump, thump of the enemy advance grew closer. Their fresh rock glowed red. The once-intimidating formation now looked like a bundle of spent caddies. He scanned the area behind him again, trying to find a decent position to carry on the fight.

  He could hear his squad’s fire let up. He opened his mouth to berate them when Threader announced, “They’re pulling back!”

  “What?”

  “Look, sarge.” He pointed ahead. The attack had ceased. Several units were making a one-eighty and marching off.

  “What the hell?”

  “It’s the militia,” his company CO declared on the com-link. “They’re hitting them on the other side. All units attack! Let’s finish this!”

  ***

  Frost’s weapon flopped onto the ground half a second ahead of him. Exhaustion had finally started to take hold. He took a long drag of water from the straw inside his helmet. A thud next to him failed to draw his attention.

  Wyatt coughed. “I can’t believe we did it.”

  “If I had the energy I might try to bullshit you about always knowing we’d do it, but I’m too tired.”

  “When you’re rested, you’ll have to tell me how you did it.”

  “Did what?”

  She managed a short burst of laughter. “Won’t wash, Frost. I don’t think playing dumb is going to work with the brass, either. Thank God we won or they’d shoot you.”

  “If we’d lost, they wouldn’t need to bother.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Crusade Armanda

  Hands on her hips, Susan surveyed the full fighter bay with satisfaction. Empty docks made her think about who used to occupy the voids. She’d barely known the last group she flew into battle with. It had been an ad hoc collection of pilots thrown together after the losses and chaos of the Battle for Kitright Prime and Keeper assault on Alpha. They’d faced death together, however, and that made them a twisted sort of family.

  Family! Her wandering mind conspired to torment her, Oh, God! I hope they’re all right. They must be so scared. I wonder how bad it is on Earth? They’re probably wondering why the fleet has left them to die. I’m coming. Just hang on a little longer, ‘cause I’m coming. The Keepers wouldn’t have targeted Iowa early, right? Maybe...

  “Well, well, well.” Lieutenant West came up from behind. He was the only other survivor of the original squadron that had gone into the Kitright campaign with her and survived the P-1425X fight by virtue of an eject and rescue pickup. They had grown closer after each battle. “Those lieutenant commander leaves look awfully nice on you.”

  She turned toward him and smiled. “It’s just a field promotion. The group we poached from Echo was short on senior officers.”

  “Keep it up and you might make captain before this whole thing is over.”

  “I’m not sure there’ll be much point in rank after all this. Might not even be much of a reason for a fleet.”

  “Oh, no.” He shook his head. “We already made that disarmament mistake once. Besides, if the rumors are true and we’re attacking a Bearcat colony, we could be at war with them again.”

  “There’s a pleasant thought.” She grimaced. “Man, I really don’t like the idea of hitting this Bearcat colony. They’re our allies. We fought side by side with them and we’re both still fighting the same enemy.”

  He shrugged. “Well, if there was another way, I’d bet General Maxwell would be the first to go for it.”

  “That he would. Hope he can figure it out.” She stared off. “I’m not sure I’ll be up for another war.”

  He cocked his head. “You going to quit on me?”

  “I don’t know.” She sighed. “I’m trying not to think too far ahead of myself. Who knows if I’ll even live through the next battle? Who knows what shape Earth will be in once we win? Maybe I’ll leave the fleet and help my family rebuild.” Her head lowered. “If I even have a family any more, that is.”

  He punched her in the arm. “Don’t talk like that. Your folks and everyone are fine. I hear the Keepers are real tree-huggers.
No WMDs. It will take ‘em a while to conquer an entire, densely populated, and advanced planet with conventional forces. We’ll get there in time.”

  “I hope you’re right.”

  “Of course I’m right.” He flipped his wrist. “When have I ever been wrong?” She cracked her mouth open. He raised his palm. “Don’t answer that.”

  They shared a laugh.

  It felt really good to laugh.

  ***

  Amanda froze. Trent could tell by the look on her face that she was getting a message in her head. “A Dr. Greene is requesting to talk with you.”

  “Put him through.” The doctor popped onto his wall screen. “Hello, doctor. Calling to say good-bye? I take it your cargo ship is loaded and ready to jump out.”

  Greene smiled from ear to ear. “I’m all set and calling to say thank you more than good-bye.”

  “No, thank you, doctor. Your help was instrumental. I hope the alien facility sparks your interest. I know the staff there will certainly appreciate the resupply and opportunity for transportation off-planet.”

  “If half of what you told me is true, I’m sure I’ll be able to keep myself busy.” He glanced away from the screen. “Looks like I’m in position. Godspeed, general.”

  The feed closed.

  Amanda smirked. “He’s in a good mood.”

  Trent rose and walked to the front of his desk. “He should be. He finally got all he wanted.” He gave her a peck on the cheek and headed for the door.

  “That’s all I get?”

  “Work to take care of right now. I’m off to talk with DeWalt.”

  “When are we leaving this quiet little corner of the universe? It’s been a couple of days and the ranks are anxious to get on with it.”

  “Very soon. Our fleet is almost organized and some repairs here and there are finishing up.” He swallowed. “What are people saying about the rumors we leaked about the Bearcat colony?”

  She sat on his desk, gripping the edge with both hands. “They seem uneasy about it. Frankly, it’s not sitting well with many, me included. It doesn’t feel right.”

  He ran a hand over his face. “Then we’re all on the same page.” He sat next to her. “Ever since Hal told us what we have to do, I’ve had a lead weight in my stomach.”