The Last Hero

by Nathaniel Danes

  Chapter 19: Invasion

  Dressed for battle, with his helmet at his side, Trent walked along the platform separating two rows of shuttles. He surveyed the soldiers in the first wave he was to lead in the coming minutes.

  Twenty-five hundred in all would soon board these landing craft bound for Black Marble’s demonic surface. Once they secured the landing zone, General Banks would drop with the remaining twenty-five hundred soldiers of the 1st Legion.

  The battle dress uniform and gear hanging on Trent were almost exactly the same as what he wore on Big Red. The only differences being an upgraded CAL to match the improved nanos, and a sidearm rail gun. Something he would have appreciated when his MRG broke the last time. The long barreled pistol was strapped to a hip. It fired a slower projectile than the MRG, but the weapon would be more effective than the Bowie knife in his boot.

  He walked the platform, standing as straight as possible, trying to project confidence and a command presence. Soldiers mingled about killing time, waiting for the order to board. Once given, the loading would be completed in less than two minutes, a feat achievable only after numerous practices during their journey.

  Approaching the rear end of the walkway, he spied three officers with whom he shared a great familiarity. They now served under him in the 1st Cohort. Trent stepped around a group of chatting enlisted men, who jumped to their feet upon seeing their XO.

  “Major Jones, Captains Simms and Thomas, I trust all is well?”

  Jones stiffened into perfect attention and saluted.

  “The 1st of the 1st is equipped and ready for deployment, sir,” she announced in a serious military tone. In her BDUs, she could be mistaken for a man given her size and short haircut.

  “At ease, Major. I’d never think otherwise.”

  Simms said, “I take it the missile strike failed?”

  “Yeah, total waste of ordinance. They didn’t even get close. That base’s missile shield extends out a hundred kilometers. We’re going to have to do this the hard way.”

  “Good.” Thomas placed a hand on her sidearm. “Nukes are for pussies. They take all of the fun out of it.”

  “I like the spirit, Captain. Just don’t go and get yourself killed, I’m not sure Simms here could take not having you around.”

  Jones laughed as she and the colonel knew the two officers once tensely confrontational relationship had blossomed into something more Earth side. Those personal files commanders had access to contained amazing information sometimes, though their body language around each other gave it away. Trent imaged his file read like a Greek tragedy.

  Thomas blushed, and Simms smiled proudly.

  “All hands prepare for shuttle and fighter launch!” the ship’s comm speakers boomed, sending twenty-five hundred troops into an organized frenzy.

  The four stood silent to take in the gravity of the situation. Again, they would lead soldiers into battle, and many to their deaths, against a terrifying foe.

  “See you downside.” Trent snapped a salute that the others quickly returned.

  The metal grate beneath his feet rattled as he jogged down the walkway, passing columns of geared up soldiers filing into their chariots. By the time he reached his shuttle, he found it completely boarded. Placing the helmet on, he ascended the lowered shuttle door as the green nano fibers sealed around the neck.

  Setting his MRG next to him, he asked CAL, “Sweetie, readiness status report.”

  One of the upgrade features of the new CAL’s allowed users to give them a simulated personality and equipped them for voice replies. While a basic function, the hurried pace of development and manufacture in those early days of the war didn’t allow for such extras.

  Trent named his CAL Sweetie and gave her a pleasant female voice.

  “All cohorts reporting boarded and ready for launch, Colonel. Earth’s Fist is conducting final checklist procedures. Estimated time till launch is one minute.”

  Hey, a new record. Knew those drills were worth the effort.

  The ship’s mechanical voice announced the opening of the bay doors below the shuttle. The overhead clamps holding it in place released. Five cohorts of the 1st Legion dropped into space.

  The fifty shuttles assembled into formation, creating a highly defensible block with circling fighters patrolling around it. The fighters would protect the invasion force all the way to the drop zone.

  The fighters suffered terrible causalities during the battle to control space. Of the original thirty that took to the fight, only ten remained. The drones fared even worse, losing thirty-four of forty.

  From his seat, Trent looked out the pilot’s window, catching a brief glimpse of the fleet in orbit. The Canada, United States, Great Britain, Yorktown, Lepanto, and Gettysburg survived the battle. Only the United States and Lepanto guarded Earth’s Fist. The others limped home with severe damage. Admiral Holloway had transferred his flag to the United States.

  The shuttle shook violently as it entered Black Marble’s atmosphere at the steepest angle allowed. Comfort became a casualty, getting down and off loaded quickly was the only consideration.

  To minimize the threat of attack, the shuttles entered the planet at the side opposite of the Bearcat base. They flew to the landing zone at an altitude just forty meters off the black rocky surface.

  A hill one hundred and fifty kilometers west of the base served as the initial target. The location offered a natural defensive position, which combined with the fact that it sat well outside the Bearcat missile defenses made it almost invulnerable to attack. Trent didn’t expect the enemy to attempt any action outside the protection of their missile shield.

  “Thirty seconds to drop!” the pilot shouted.

  Here we go.

  The shuttle hovered a meter off the ground and the door dropped down. Soldiers jumped out of their seats so fast that a line to exit formed before the door finished opening. Trent was near the pilots and was therefore the last in line. He watched as each soldier’s green suit turned black, blending them into the planet’s barren landscape, making them nearly invisible.

  He hit the ground and immediately took control of the operation.

  “All century commanders, I want the mobile air defenses up ASAP. That’s your top priority. Major Jones.” He pointed at his XO, whom he could see thanks to Sweetie. “Get the 1st Cohort formed. I want you to organize scouting parities all around this area. Second Cohort take a defensive position halfway down the northeast slope of the hill. Third, do the same on the southeast. Fourth, take the west side just in case. Fifth stays on top as a reserve.”

  Black blurs swirled all around Trent as subordinates rushed to fulfill their assignments. Sweetie highlighted one such dark void walking toward him.

  “What do you have for me, Captain Simms?”

  “Good news, sir. Trenton tells me we can breathe the atmosphere and secondary analysis confirmed it. We won’t have a problem tolerating the temp either.”

  Eager to breathe the first of the alien air, Trent removed his helmet, tipped his head back, and breathed deeply through the nose.

  Rotten eggs, guess I’ll still be spending a lot of time in suit.

  Exhaling, he stared off into the gray sky of the near lifeless planet. An odd thought popped into his head as he cocked it toward Simms.

  “Trenton?”

  “Oh...not after you, sir, I named my CAL after my favorite dog. He was my best friend when I was growing up. It seemed fitting.”

  ***

  “Report, Colonel,” General Banks barked the moment he hopped off the shuttle turning him from green to black instantly.

  “Sir, we have established a perimeter around the hill with dug in positions to the east and west.” Trent answered with hand motions as much as with words. “Major Jones is out with the 1st scouting the area. I’ll deploy the new cohorts to the east to prepare for our march.”

  The general turned his head to the left then right. He took in the scene while soldiers continued to po
ur out shuttles still landing on top of the hill.

  “Very well, Colonel. Why have you deployed the air defenses without their tracks...or had any units dig in? You’ve delayed our march east to meet the enemy.”

  “I wanted the air defenses established as quickly as possible. That was faster without attaching the tracks right away. As for digging in, I thought it best to establish some form of defense while we orga—”

  Banks cut in, “Speed is the most important aspect in warfare. You’ve cost us that speed, Colonel.”

  “With all due respect, the delay is minimal. There’s a lot we don’t know about the enemy’s capabilities. A measure of caution is warranted.”

  Banks shook his head. “Colonel, as Patton said ‘audacity, audacity, audacity are the three most important traits in a great commander—”

  I know every fucking word Patton said. He would have known when to practice caution.

  “—So, Colonel, refit the batteries for march. Let’s move east with all speed.”

  “Yes, sir, General,” Trent remarked.

  ***

  The glossy black volcanic rock seemed to go on forever. Trent didn’t understand how a planet could be so colorless, as if God waited till last to work on Black Marble and by then his box of crayons had one color left.

  While the barren landscape didn’t appear to support life, the planet’s one ocean, which covered roughly half the surface, teamed with an oxygen producing bacteria. Though between the rotten egg smell from the atmosphere’s high sulfur content, and the desire not to become an easy target, everyone spent only a few seconds outside the suits on the fifty kilometer march to the Bearcat air defensive perimeter.

  Major Jones stood on top a smooth slab of rock sloping approximately thirty degrees downward. If not for the nano-soled boots gripping the slick surface, she would have fallen into the valley of jagged rocks below. Gazing with the visor on max zoom down into enemy territory, she scouted ahead for trouble as the 1st Cohort continued to lead the rest of the Legion.

  “See anything interesting, Major?” Trent walked to her side about a meter below the slab.

  “Not a damn thing. That’s what bothers me, Colonel,” she said. “I figured they would be planning a reception the moment we stepped under their cover. But none of my advanced scout teams have found any sign of them. I guess they could have decided to stay holed up in their base.”

  Jones hopped onto the ground. They walked by the column marching along a pass down the final mountain before reaching the missile shield. So many camouflaged suits packaged together moving in the same direction caused the mountain wall to appear as if it flowed downhill.

  Trent swung his MRG onto a shoulder.

  “Something tells me the Bearcats aren’t the types to be content with letting the battle come to them. I want to double the advance patrols when we get to the bottom of this thing.” He pointed off into the east. “They’re planning something. I don’t intend to get caught with our pants down.”

  “What’s the general have to say?”

  Pulling Jones further away from the column, Trent looked around and lowered his voice. Both methods of secrecy weren’t necessary with their helmets on private chat, but he wasn’t taking any chances.

  “He’s a paper pusher with bad instincts. He thinks if we move fast enough, they won’t be able to hit us before we get to the base.”

  “He’s buggers, sir. They know we’re here and have a pretty good idea of where here is. This area has a million natural ambush points. We’ll get our asses shot to hell if we try to sprint through this maze.”

  “That’s why I want to double the forward patrols. Maybe if we have enough of a screening force, we can see what’s coming.”

  Sweetie cut in, “General Banks would like to speak with you, sir.”

  “Speak of the devil. Gotta go, Major, get those patrols ready.”

  She nodded before speeding up to a jog down the mountain.

  ***

  “Yes, General?”

  “Colonel, prepare the Legion for a rapid march through enemy territory. None of the scouts have come across the enemy. I want to bring them in. That way we can cut through these next seventy-five kilometers like a knife. When we get closer, we’ll deploy the scouts again.”

  Trent lowered his head, placing a hand on his helmet to sooth a sudden headache.

  He is going to get us all killed!

  “Sir, I insist we at least have some form of screen scouting ahead of the column. I don’t want us running into a trap.”

  “Colonel, if we move fast enough, they won’t have time to plan a trap.”

  “General, they know we’re here, and that we’re coming. These rocks make the entire area perfect for setting a trap. Let me send two squads ahead. Such a small force won’t cause us much of a delay, if any at all.”

  The pause seemed to stretch on forever.

  “Fine,” the general shot out, “send out your squads. They better not slow me down, or it’s your ass, Colonel.”

  The link severed before Trent could respond.

  “Sweetie, ping Sergeants Roth and Gabriel to see me.”

  Roth and Gabriel listened while Trent laid out their challenging task. Like all good soldiers given stupid orders, they didn’t say a thing or move until asked.

  “Any questions?” Trent hated himself for putting them in this situation, but they were the best ones for the job.

  “Let me get this straight, Colonel.” Roth spoke in a perfectly respectful, matter of fact tone. “You want our twenty troops, just us, to scout this mess.” She waved into the labyrinth below. “For the entire Legion?”

  “Yes.”

  Gabriel said, “Well okay then, no biggy. Just wanted to make sure I understood.”

  “Look,” Trent said. “I know this is shitty. I had to fight to have any scouts ahead of the main body. Hell, if it were up to me, I’d have the entire 1st Cohort out there with you. The best I can do is two squads, so I’m sending my two best squads.”

  Trent placed a hand on each of their shoulders.

  “I’m counting on you...we’re all counting on you.”

  Roth said, “Don’t worry, Colonel. We won’t let you down.”

  “That possibility never entered my mind.”

  ***

  The column of five thousand legionnaires sliced along the black wasteland at a wicked pace, covering fifty kilometers of rugged terrain in a day and a half. They moved fast, too fast for Roth and Gabriel to do a proper scouting job. Those twenty weary soldiers ran themselves ragged, trying to cover as much ground as possible. The endless field of large rocks produced too many points demanding attention.

  A kilometer ahead of the main force, Gabriel climbed atop a boulder five meters high to gain a better view of the surrounding area.

  “Got anything up there, Sergeant?” asked Corporal Wendy Krist. If not for the suit, she would have appeared as a dark skinned East African woman.

  “All kinds of stuff.” He tossed an arm to each side. “We have black rocks on both flanks as well as in front and behind us, Corporal.”

  “Um...sounds like we’re surrounded. Maybe we should surrender.”

  “Yeah, well—” Gabriel intended to continue the smart-ass banter but movement caught his eye as he stared into the space separating him from the column. “Go to max zoom, Hottie.”

  Krist asked, “You got something?”

  He ignored the corporal and focused on a large rock, about thirty meters high with a flat top. It was about two hundred meters to the side of the column. Nothing appeared there, but he swore that he’d seen movement just a second ago.

  “Get up here, Corporal. I want another set of eyes on this thing.” He pointed at the intended target while Krist clambered up.

  They stared helplessly as forty Bearcat rifle barrels slowly crept out from under a black camouflaged tarp.

  “Jesus Christ!” Gabriel shouted as the first salvo blasted into the unsuspecting troops.

&nb
sp; Dozens of legionnaires disappeared when the massive projectiles tore into his comrades. Blood, body parts, and pieces of green deactivated nano fabric flew across the landscape. The gore added gruesome color to the black canvass while the air filled with cries of pain and terror.

  “Hottie, highlight enemy position on all tactical maps. Sergeant Roth, what’s your situation? We need to hit that spot ASAP.”

  “Read’ya Gab.” Roth wove through rocks at a full sprint. “We’re a kilo and half to the northeast of the enemy. Close in on them and lay down fire. Keep’em busy, and we’ll take them out.”

  ***

  A private’s head exploded right in front of Trent, a victim of the surprise attack. The red blood barely landed on his suit before he dove for cover behind a jagged rock. There among the thunderous noise of the Bearcat’s rifle shots echoing off the stone, he discovered another private, this one unconscious with his left arm missing. He rolled the wounded soldier onto his back.

  “Sweetie, med report?”

  Sweetie’s calm voice seemed odd, given the chaos. “Private Michaels is missing a right arm and has a concussion. He is stable.”

  Letting the private remain where he was, he slowly moved the barrel of his MRG over the rock surveying the carnage.

  Shells thundered all around him. Most slammed into the ground or knocked chunks of black rock into the air. Despite the cover, some still found flesh. Using the map point relayed from Gabriel, Trent guided the barrel of his weapon to the cliff the Bearcats had fired from. Switching to full auto, he pulled the trigger. Flakes of black flew about, soon followed by splashes of blue. Yet another new color added to this bleak world.

  “Colonel, report. What’s happening?” General Banks demanded.

  We’re dying because of you, asshole. That’s what’s happening.

  Withdrawing the MRG, Trent turned to lean against the rock.

  “Ambush, sir. Several KIAs. I’m putting fire on the position Sergeant Gabriel highlighted. He and Roth pinged me to tell me they’re closing in on the enemy from behind. We just need to hold on and keep them busy.”

  The general continued the conversation, but Trent didn’t hear him. Something stole his attention. Looking from side to side, he saw something of grave concern, Legion soldiers cowering. They hugged the safety of cover as if it were their mother’s breast.