The Last Hero

by Nathaniel Danes

  “Well done.”

  The wounded Bearcat looked confused and scared. Less than half an hour ago, his race was the undisputed rulers of this world. Now he was beaten, alone, and captured.

  Not so tough against humanity’s warriors are you? Lot different than eating civilians. Oh...I guess you don’t even know the instrument of your defeat. For all you can tell, we’re a bunch of blurs. I’ll do you a favor. One of you should know who beat you.

  “CAL, prepare to remove helmet.”

  Warning: Atmosphere is not breathable.

  Trent ignored the warning. Taking a deep breath, he pulled the helmet off. The suit sealed tight around the neck.

  Despite massive differences in language and culture, Trent read the Bearcat’s face as easily as a page from a children’s book.

  You recognize me. Don’t you, you motherfucker.

  Trent’s locked gazes with the prisoner’s as shock coated its face. Without warning, Trent suddenly heard a loud pop.

  The sound emanated from the head of the Bearcat. The creature fell to the ground like a rag doll.

  Trent returned his helmet to its proper place. He and Thomas stepped forward. As they looked down at the dead enemy soldier, something oozed out of its ears. Thomas gave voice to the communal thought, “What happened?”

  “He killed himself to avoid capture.”

  “How?”

  “Must’ve activated some kind of small explosive implanted in his brain. Guess that’s one objective we won’t be checking off.”

  “Smart move.”

  “Yeah, our guys thought of that one too. If we get captured, the nanos will make sure there isn’t anything left to interrogate.”

  Trent turned to face the gathered survivors. Holding the MRG high over his head, he let out a booming victorious shout, “Revenge is ours!”

  The tired warriors followed the example of their leader and shouted at the stars. Putting the universe on notice that humanity had teeth and would use them.

  Chapter 13: Victory

  Adozen shuttles descended outside the base. The crafts’ gentle landing reminded Trent of the unit’s dramatic arrival, and the cost it had entailed.

  Henderson would have loved this fight.

  The door of the lead shuttle lowered and out walked a group of gray uniformed Fleet officers. They wore clear full-face breathing masks. He recognized one immediately, despite the few years the man had aged.

  “Commander Andersen, fancy meeting you here.”

  Andersen approached Trent with his hand extended. He easily found him with the suit’s camouflage turned off. The green stood out in the crimson world.

  “I wouldn’t have missed it for the world, Major. It’s Admiral Andersen by the way.”

  “Oh...I guess a lot of things have changed in the eleven something years I’ve been off world.”

  “You have no idea. Earth has real defenses now. A mighty Legion, strong Fleet, and an orbital defense platform we only dreamt of. Took a lot of work and money, but it’s amazing what a united world can do when it’s motivated.”

  “I’m happy you got the command you wanted, which reminds me. When Chen gets back, give the man a warship, he deserves it.”

  “That’s the plan. What...,” Andersen paused. “What shape is your unit in?”

  Trent looked back on the conquered base. Red and blue bloodstains peppered the domes’ walls.

  “Morale is high. That’s the best thing I can say.”

  “Casualties?”

  “Many,” Trent sighed. “We lost three in our crash landing. Forty-eight made the attack. Of those, twenty are KIA and five wounded.”

  “I’m sorry. You paid a high price.”

  “Could have been a lot worse. We count almost a hundred enemy dead. The only thing that saved us was the element of total surprise. They clearly didn’t expect a land based assault.”

  “If I may ask...why such an odd killed to wounded ratio? It should be the other way around.”

  “Yeah, I know. I think that’s the way this whole war is going to shake out. It’s their weapons, pretty damn lethal. You take a hit...well, let’s just say you don’t want to take a hit. All of our wounded lost limbs. They’re lucky they didn’t take a body shot or they all would be KIA.”

  “May I take a look at the base?”

  “It’s all yours.” Trent walked with the admiral.

  Andersen became fixated on a mangled Bearcat body. He stopped to study it.

  “It’s huge!” he said.

  “Tell me about it.” Trent pulled the blue-coated Bowie knife from his boot, holding it up. The blood had started to dry. Some of it had flaked off. “You should try fighting one of them hand-to-hand sometime. It’s a fun challenge.”

  The show had the expected effect when Andersen’s eyes bulged out.

  “Oh, my.”

  “I hope you don’t mind, but I just had my men police our own and then gave them the rest of the day off. Figured your people could finish gathering the others for study. Same goes for all of the captured equipment.”

  “Glad you did that.” Andersen walked further into the compound, examining warped alien vehicles and the container Trent hid behind when Simms came to his rescue. “You guys deserve a break. I have a shuttle coming down with fresh Legion troops. Once they get here, you guys can head up. I imagine you can’t wait to get out of those suits.”

  “You have no idea. How long till we can jump?” The trip home would take a year. Trent was in a hurry to get started.

  “You’re heading home right away. The cruiser Yorktown didn’t suffer any damage in the attack so I earmarked her to get you guys home ASAP.”

  “Hey, that’s right. Your attack. Sorry, it kind of slipped my mind. How did it go?”

  “It’s understandable.” He shrugged. “The attack went beautifully. Thanks to your intel, each ship came through with predetermined targets. Helped make it quick work, didn’t lose a ship. We simply overwhelmed them with firepower.”

  “Good to hear. How many ships did you bring?”

  “Fifteen, half the Fleet.”

  “Wow, fifteen for four enemy ships?”

  “You have to understand. We jumped having no idea what their ships’ capabilities would be. It could very well have taken four of ours to take out one of theirs. It turns out we’re pretty evenly matched.”

  “Well, all I have to say is thanks. We weren’t getting off this damn red rock without you.”

  ***

  Forty-eight legionnaires waited in the dirt outside the base for their ride to land. Twenty of them would make the flight in body bags. Five would do so less than whole.

  The fresh troops disembarked the shuttle slowly. They gazed at their blood covered comrades. Some paused at the sight of the body bags lined up next to each other.

  Given the time that had passed, it was likely these soldiers had never seen combat.

  To them, dead soldiers were something confined to books and movies. Now they had seen a glimpse of what this war would be like.

  Fortunately, none of them were foolish enough to speak to the veterans. As in wars past, veterans preferred not to socialize with untested rookies who hadn’t been through what they had.

  They boarded the shuttle and it took off, but it didn’t head directly for the Yorktown. It had a stop to make.

  The shuttle touched down at the site of their crash landing. All able-bodied members of the unit unloaded to collect the remaining three members of their team.

  Everyone would go home.

  Chapter 14: Homeward Bound

  No one said a word on the shuttle ride to the Yorktown. The full magnitude of their accomplishment had not fully sunk in. Any pride was blunted by the body bags in the cargo hull and sheer exhaustion.

  Trent studied each face. Such a long time in the suits exacted a heavy toll on their appearance. Unkempt beards, matted hair, and dirty faces were just where things started. He shuddered to think what he might find in the shower once he got
completely free of the green prison of his uniform. All displayed the thousand meter stare only seen on combat veterans.

  The Yorktown’s shuttle bay crew stared in awe at the shaggy bunch. They almost seemed afraid to be in the same room as them and dared not break the silence.

  Trent spoke the only words when he ordered those not needing medical attention to hit the showers and get some rest. Beyond a debriefing, there would be no assignments on the trip home.

  He didn’t require medical attention, but refused to be shown to his quarters. His first order of business was to ensure that the wounded made it to the infirmary and received the full attention of the medical staff.

  Upon entering his quarters he walked directly into the head, stripped out of the blood-covered suit, stepped into the shower, and let the warm water wash over him. The warm touch of civilization turned black as it whirled down the drain. He stayed paralyzed under the stream for an hour.

  ***

  Intending to sleep for only a couple hours was a naive ambition. Regardless of the nano enhancements, Trent’s sleep starved body quickly took hold of its first opportunity in a long while to truly rest and would not so easily let go.

  He might have slept longer than six hours, but an empty stomach forced him to wake. It dawned on him that his stomach had not contained food for quite some time. With the nutrient pack disconnected, it screamed for the sensation of fulfillment once more. The urge to eat even surpassed his hunger after the nano treatment.

  Trent climbed out of bed and opened the duffle bag he found in his room. It contained all he would need to restart a life placed in hold: Identification card and uniforms. A military life was a simple one.

  He finished dressing before noticing the rank on his Legion blacks was that of a full colonel. Thinking it might be a mistake, he conducted a more detailed review of his I.D. but found it to read colonel as well. Not one to complain at being promoted, he shrugged and took a closer look at the uniform to see what other changes had appeared. On the left breast lay the mission ribbon.

  That was fast. Guess the guys in PR want us to hit the ground running when we get home.

  The small rectangular ribbon was solid red. From this day forth, only those who served on the Legion’s first ever mission would bear such a ribbon forever marking them as distinctive.

  ***

  The walk along the metallic corridor to the mess felt lonely. Every crewmember he passed or even fellow legionnaires, not of his unit, seemed both awed and uncomfortable by his presence. He didn’t understand why.

  By the time, Trent reached the mess hall, he was glad to see the other mission officers woke with the same hunger. Thomas and Simms hovered over piles of food overflowing from the tray. They launched attack after attack, wielding their utensils like samurai.

  When Trent completed a march through the line, his tray was weighted down by a mountain of pancakes, bacon, scrambled eggs, and grits. Despite their relentless assault, Thomas and Simms still had much work to do when Trent sat down across from them.

  “Good morning, Captains.”

  Thomas’ natural tan had faded from the lack of sun. Simms looked down right ghostly.

  Pulling their attention away from their mission long enough to see the eagle on Trent’s shoulder, they smiled. Thomas’ mouth was full so Simms spoke for them both. “And to you as well, Colonel, I see we aren’t the only ones feeling a tad famished.”

  Trent dove straight in, devouring several bites before thinking to make conversation.

  “Say...have you two noticed that people are acting...umm...”

  Simms said, “Odd when we’re around.”

  “So it’s not just me.”

  “Ha-imo,” Thomas mumbled.

  “Take your time, Captain. We have a while before we get home.”

  Thomas chewed violently and swallowed hard. “Have either of you visited Jones. I mean Major Jones.”

  “Not since I went with the wounded to sick bay, to make sure they got squared away,” Trent said. “I plan to head over there after I eat, to check in on everyone.”

  “Any idea how long she’ll be out of commission?” Simms asked in between sips of coffee.

  “The doc said it would take a couple weeks to grow new legs and a couple more to learn to use them. Still lucky though. Those Bearcat rounds are bad. Anyone hit in the torso died.”

  The table quieted as they reflected on the losses. Trent took the moment as a chance to stuff more food into his mouth. Simms and Thomas followed suit.

  A baby faced Legion lieutenant sat down near the trio. His goofy grin screamed “I am about to talk to you.” Trent desperately wanted to shut him down before he opened his mouth.

  Damn. That won’t help my image.

  People were already uneasy enough around him. He attempted to ignore the lieutenant as politely as possible, hoping he got the hint.

  He didn’t.

  He at least waited until Trent finished a bite.

  “Hello, Colonel. I’m Lieutenant McBride. May I say it’s an honor to meet you, sir? You as well, Captains. It’s not every day one gets the chance to meet an actual Red Baron.”

  “Aaa, what? What the hell is a Red Baron?” Thomas inquired.

  McBride seemed confused.

  “Why...you are, sir. All of you are Red Barons. That’s the nickname for your unit. You attacked the red planet, and the Legion mission ribbon, the first ribbon, is pure red.”

  “Oh,” Trent replied. “Does anyone even know who the first real Red Baron was?”

  McBride leaned in wide-eyed. “No, who?” Genuine excitement radiated from him.

  Doesn’t anyone learn history anymore? How come this alleged future military leader doesn’t know about the most famous World War I ace?

  “Not important.”

  “What was it like fighting the Bearcats?” he asked like a little boy awaiting a war story from his grandfather.

  “They are a tough lot.” Trent returned his attention to his tray. He didn’t want to play along. Sadly, McBride didn’t get the message.

  “There’s a rumor you killed one of them with just your knife! Is it true? I can’t imagine that. They’re huge!”

  This pronouncement caught Simms’ attention. “I hadn’t heard that one. Did you?”

  “Yeah, it was in their command building. It broke my MRG right before he ripped Roth’s arm off. He charged me a couple times before I got him in the heart.”

  “Wow,” McBride whispered.

  Trent tried again to return to the mini buffet in front of him. A few bites later, he realized he had a use for someone not afraid to talk to a “Red Baron.”

  “Lieutenant, I have a question for you.”

  “What would that be, sir?”

  “Everyone acts like they are afraid to be around us. They all seem...uneasy. Why? What is that all about? Is it the Red Baron thing?”

  McBride scanned the table.

  “I guess you guys wouldn’t know. You know with the whole time dilation thing.”

  Thomas asked, “Know what?”

  “What’s been going on since you’ve left Earth. You…all of you…have been built up in the media as great heroes, humanity’s saviors. Not the Red Baron stuff, that’s new. It doesn’t take a historian to know that all wars have a propaganda front where you trash the enemy and praise your heroes.”

  “We’re it,” Simms said, his shoulders slumping.

  “Exactly, sir. You guys were the only show in town. There was an enemy to paint as the ultimate evil in the universe, but there was a problem. What do you do for heroes when you won’t have any combat vets for over ten years? I mean, you need some human symbols to rally folks around, so they pay the higher taxes and volunteer for service. The media folks ran with what they had—you.

  “It started not long after you left. I was just a kid, but I vividly remember all of the newsnet stories about each of you. Detailed accounts of your bios and anything else that made you look good and strong.”
r />   Thomas said, “They took a hell of a chance. What if we all got killed?”

  “Never underestimate what a powerful symbol a bunch of martyrs can be” Trent said. “I bet you if we got wiped out, there would have been all kinds of BS about us throwing ourselves at the enemy despite incredible odds for the sake of mankind.”

  McBride continued, “It just built on itself from there. Took on a life of its own. There’s even a series of books detailing fictionalized missions you’ve been on. They made them into a net series. Had the most uploads for a number of years.”

  Trent laughed. “I’ll be damned. Sounds like we’ve already won this thing.”

  “So, sirs, to everyone you’re part war hero, part net star, and part superhero. Now that you’ve won the first counterattack, you just confirmed all those images.”

  Thomas stared at him. “Well I’ll be—”

  “Famous,” Trent said.

  “More like super famous...very super famous,” McBride concluded.

  ***

  Simple tan curtains separated each bed, but their material seemed quite effective at canceling sound on either side. They gave the sick bay occupants a sense of privacy. Trent appreciated this as he made his way from bedside to bedside, checking on the six members of his team.

  Five had earned their spot by losing one or more limbs in the attack. Corporal Bitter landed there by virtue of her pregnancy. Luckily, it seemed the nanos and nutrient pack proved sufficient to protect the fetus during the mission. The doctors seemed quite interested in the results of this unplanned experiment.

  One last patient remained as Trent walked passed a group of staring doctors and nurses. He pulled the curtain aside.

  “Hello Sergeant Roth. No need to salute.”

  Despite the lame attempt at humor, Roth cracked a smile. That couldn’t have been easy with her whole right shoulder encased in an uncomfortable looking nano-mesh.

  “Glad you found it funny. Not everyone finds jokes about missing limbs funny. I told Captain...I mean Major Jones not to bother standing at attention. I thought she would throw her water at me.”

  Roth laughed out loud.

  “I’m on a roll. On a more serious note, how are you doing?”