Hail the Hero (The Hunter Legacy Book 5)

by Timothy Ellis

  I was suddenly aware the Queen had locked glances with me. I went bright red, and looked away, making myself scan down the other side of the table. Damn that blush suppressor, I thought. I should do a complaint. So I did. I went into the menus to find software support, filled out the bug report, and sent it off. I turned the override back on, which eliminated the red on my cheeks, but when I looked up again, the Queen was still watching me. This time, she smiled at me, and turned away to say something to one of the people near her.

  When the dinner finally broke up, I was very glad to be out of there.

  By eleven, I was back in my bedroom, patting Angel. Most of my team had elected to stay planet-side, since the following morning was free, and none of them had spent much quality time dirtside in a long time.

  Jeeves gave me another shot at eleven thirty, and I went straight off to sleep.

  Pain woke me again at three thirty. Jeeves gave me the next shot, but I was too restless to go back to sleep.

  I hauled myself out of bed, leaving a curled up puss behind, and scooted down to Custer's gun ranges. Once there, I activated the suit on the scooter to mount my guns on my suit, and started into the combat courses. I had three guns to choose from, while keeping control of the scooter and my balance on it. At first, I found it almost impossible to keep control and fire a gun at the same time. However, like everything, practice makes perfect, and after a solid hour, I began to get the hang of it. I found I could hold myself on using my arms wrapped around the handle bars, and shoot using both hands, while controlling speed and direction with my PC. As another hour went past, my score improved from really dismal to approaching average. Hardest was the Long Gun, as I couldn’t sight it properly. So I concentrated on bringing my score up with just the gatling stunners. When I was finally into the eighties range, I called it a session, scooted back to my bedroom, showered, and stretched out next to a still sleeping Angel.

  Pain once again woke me, but I'd had another four hours sleep this time, without dreams. Jeeves gave me my overdue pain shot, before I moved myself. I felt lethargic, and the thought of the medal ceremony to come today, almost had me go back to bed and hide under the covers. Still, it was for the British troops, all I had to do was be there.

  I found Angel scratching her kitty castle, and gave her a good rub up the wrong way, which had her purring loudly.

  I sat in my living room and waded through emails. The Avon 'tool man' had sent me an upgrade for my suit. The message with it made it clear this was a beta version, and would only work with three belts merged. He'd run with my suggestions, and introduced a layered approach to the suit reaction. The suit would now form three distinct layers when it went into a defensive mode. The outer layer would emulate combat suit armour well away from the skin, the middle layer would concentrate on moving the momentum of the hit downwards, while the inner layer retained the original purpose of being body armour, preventing actual damage to the person.

  The outer layer, in theory, would take the damage potential of the hit and channel it to the deck, while the middle layer dealt with the residual momentum. If the hit was too much for the outer triple boosted suit to handle, the middle layer would take over the outer layer role. It was hoped the combination would not only prevent momentum knocking over the person being hit, but also prevent any bruising.

  While I can't say I looked forward to having this tested, I uploaded the upgrade and checked the suit integrity value. It was now even higher than before. I emailed him back my thanks, and should I be a target again, I'd let him know how it performed.

  I couldn’t see I’d be any worse off, even if the layered approach failed to work.

  In any case, I was determined to avoid placing myself in locations where I’d be shot at again, if I could help it. Chameleon mode worked really well, and I intended to do a lot of sneaking around from now on. Even when I regained some mobility, the scooter would come in handy, since the faster you were going, the harder it was to hit you. Something else for me to practice - speed scooting!

  At eleven thirty, as I was beginning to think about some lunch, Alison walked in with Marshall Bigglesworth.

  "Don’t get up Jon," he said quickly, as I reached for my scooter. "I wanted to go over the ceremony this afternoon with you. You're aide told me you were up here, so I took the opportunity to come look at your flagship. I hope you don’t mind, but she showed me around. It might be old, but I really like what you did with her."

  "Thank you sir."

  "Call me James, Jon. We're the same rank you know."

  He chuckled, and seated himself next to me. Alison remained standing.

  "Not really James. The Americans added my fourth star, but retired me the next day. So it's not really earned, being retirement promotion. Sci-Fi is the only force I'm still active with, so technically I only have three. I wear four on my Hunter uniform because it's expedient to do so, not because I feel I've earned it."

  "Let me guess, you had problems justifying being the boss when other people you employed out-ranked you?"

  "Yes, exactly that. I wore an infinity symbol as a rank, before the Americans drafted me after the first pass through Midgard. At least now wearing four stars I was given, solves any problems in the future. Once Sci-Fi release me, I can go back to just being a Merc group leader."

  "Maybe so, but forget that bollocks about not earning your fourth star. I've repeatedly watched the combat feeds of every action you've had since leaving Dallas the first time. You're General Smith was right, you are a natural General. And we needed one in an Admiral's role this time. You let Smith do the infantry work. You left Wellington on Cobol to do the General's work, while you moved on to the next objective. You did it again on Azgard. You told them what you wanted, and let them do it according to their own expertise. That's what four stars do. Get used to it. Four stars is what you were made for, and now you’re here, you may as well accept it."

  His grin was impossible to ignore, and my own mirrored his after a moment.

  "So," he went on, "this afternoon. Her Majesty will be reading the citations. I'll be on her left, you'll be on my left. Her aide will hand her the medal, she will present it to the recipient, who will bow to her. They'll then move to face me, shake, salute, and move to you for the same."

  "Why am I there?"

  "I'm there as commander of the British Fleet. You're there as the combat commander of the campaign. If General Wellington was with us, she'd be on the podium as well. All you need to do is shake each person's hand, and return their salute."

  "I can do that."

  "If something else comes up, our aides will ping us. It's not normal, but with a young inexperienced Monarch, such things can happen."

  "I wondered about that yesterday. Last I heard the British sector had a King. Since I left Outback, I've had no time for events outside my own doorstep, so it was a bit of a shock to see an obviously young Queen at the table last night."

  "We had a disaster here about four months ago. The Queen was the only Royal not in attendance, because of an illness, and so was the only one to survive. At this point, we're still not sure if it was simply an accident, or an assassination by the Republican movement. As you can imagine, the security around Her Majesty is the tightest it's ever been now."

  "Didn’t the Royal family wear belts?"

  "You mean those suits you and other mercenaries wear?" I nodded. "No, it wasn’t thought appropriate for them, and the King himself was adamant he wasn’t wearing any kind of body armour, as it sent the wrong signals to the people."

  "Only if it's done badly. There's no reason why anyone should know anyone is wearing a suit belt. When used with clothes, you simply have the belt appear as a belt, one which goes with the outfit being worn. Do you wear one yourself?"

  "No, fleet hasn’t yet addressed the issue. However, I'm pushing it given what happened to Darius and Chet recently. As I understand it, casualties would have been a lot lighter had everyone been wearing a suit belt."

&
nbsp; Get it done.

  "Sir… James, it strikes me as the two biggest targets here at the moment, are the Queen, and yourself. Both of you should be wearing suit belts. Let me arrange them for you now."

  "Are you sure no one will be able to tell?"

  "No-one can, at least not to casual inspection. If they get close enough to touch, the difference should be obvious, but neither of you should be allowing people close enough for that. The first anyone should know is when they shift to full defense mode in reaction to the proximity of a weapon, or some other threat."

  "Okay. How long will it take to get them?"

  "Should be here before we finish lunch." He nodded.

  I pinged the local 'tool man', and ordered eight new belts, with three boosters each, to be delivered unpacked as two combined belts of three, and two of two. I asked for immediate delivery to BigMother. The invoice came back immediately, and I paid it.

  We sat down to lunch, Alison joining us, with rank put aside.

  Jeeves came in with the new belts as we were finishing eating. Once again, I’d failed to eat very much.

  I gave one of the two belts to Alison and told her to merge them.

  "Why Jon?" she asked. "I already have a fully boosted suit."

  "You and Annabelle are the most vulnerable of the team on the ground, since you rarely wear combat suits. Annabelle nearly bought it on Azgard, with what you have now. While I was getting new belts, I thought I’d give you both the same protection I have."

  She nodded, and we watched as her belts merged into one. Being seen in her underwear by the Marshall for a few moments, didn’t seem to faze her. I gave her the second two, to give to Annabelle before the medal ceremony.

  I passed the first of the three's to James, and we talked him through the setup process. Once complete, I pulsed him chameleon mode in case either of them had to hide at some time. I also talked him through scanning uniforms, so he could make his own suit fatigues. For now though, all he really needed was the combat protection mode, and I made sure he changed the suit to hair trigger activation.

  I gave him the remaining three belt for the Queen, and had him promise to have her wearing it as soon as he could get her alone before the ceremony. He felt sure this was possible. Lastly, I showed him where the menus of clothes and accessories were, so the Queen could easily choose how she looked.

  Now nearly one, we headed for the Marshall's gig, to return to the Palace.

  Twenty Five

  By one forty five, I was standing to the left of Bigglesworth, on an ornate podium in a room obviously designed for award ceremonies. When I say standing, I was still on my scooter, as there was no way my left leg could have taken my weight at all, without me passing out. All the same, I was beginning to regret being here. Up until now, I’d not really simply stood around in the same place. I’d been moving from place to place, at each end of which I'd been seated. But for the first time, I now had to stand in one place. As the minutes passed, I was feeling less and less well. It's funny how pain has a way of making itself felt, when you move the least.

  Those due for awards were lined up in ranks in the middle of the room, lowest rank at the front to highest at the back. Susan Bentley would be last. Local dignitaries and British Flag Officers, were seated on the right side, from my perspective, and all others on the left, including my entire team.

  Generals Price and Harriman were standing on the other side of where the Queen would stand. I pondered why, but didn’t come up with anything beyond they were there for the same reason I was.

  Precisely at two, the Queen was ushered in with all due pomp and ceremony. Marshall Bigglesworth welcomed everyone, and said some words about the campaign, and the role of the British forces in it. I wasn’t really listening.

  A military aide to the Queen passed her the first citation and called out the first name. The recipient marched forwards, and braced to attention before the Queen. She read the citation, had the medal passed to her, and passed it over with a few words to the recipient. After bowing to the Queen, he moved to face Marshall Bigglesworth, they shook, saluted, and moved in front of me for the same.

  This was duplicated dozens of times, with my part being automatic. I used my left hand to hold me upright, and my right for shaking and saluting.

  By two thirty, the knuckles on my left hand were white, and I now bitterly regretted not getting an early pain shot. But there was nothing for it, I had to stand there and function as if nothing was wrong.

  Susan Bentley marched forwards on the quiet chime of three, to receive her Distinguished Service Order. By this time I was needing my right hand to hold me up, and removing it was becoming increasingly difficult. I was glad this was the last award and I'd be able to sit down soon. Susan bowed to the Queen, shook and saluted with Bigglesworth, and moved to stand in front of me. Her eyes narrowed in alarm as she took in my condition and she shot a rapid glance at Bigglesworth to see if he'd noticed. Apparently he hadn't, for which I was glad. We shook rapidly, and her body in front of mine hid how desperately my right hand returned to holding me up, after our salute.

  She marched away, and I waited to be dismissed.

  Instead, John Slice was called. He startled where he sat in the middle of my team, rose, and marched forwards. He braced as all the others before him had. The aide passed the Queen another citation.

  "Wing Commander Slice," she said, "volunteered to defend Avon, was called back to service, and seconded to the Sci-Fi Space Force, where he distinguished himself at the battle of Avon, and went on to play key roles as the fighter force commander for the multi-sector fleet. Wing Commander, you are promoted to the rank of Group Captain, awarded the Distinguished Flying Cross, and retired once again from the British Fleet, with our gratitude and thanks."

  They shared a few words as his medal and new rank insignia were passed over. He bowed, and was about to step back when General Price spoke.

  "Group Captain," he said. Slice turned to face him. "The Sci-Fi sector thanks you for your service, and awards you our Distinguished Flying Cross as well."

  He was passed another medal, they shook, and saluted, which he repeated with Bigglesworth and myself, before returning to his seat.

  The Queen' aide called Eric Neilson next. A look of shock on his face as he stood, dressed in Hunter Dress, was replaced with passive calm by the time he braced before the Queen.

  "Lieutenant Commander," she said, "it's our understanding that you neither volunteered to fight at any time during the recent war, nor were asked to serve, drafted to serve, or in any way required to serve. You simply fought. When Marshall Bigglesworth became aware of your presence and contributions at Avon, you were recalled to official service. We understand you have been accepted into Hunter Security, and promoted. Your promotion to Lieutenant Commander is officially recognized now by the British Fleet, and at the end of this ceremony you will be replaced on the inactive list. You are awarded the Distinguished Flying Cross."

  She passed him his British insignia and medal, they shared a few words, and he bowed and prepared to return to his seat.

  "Lieutenant Commander," said General Price. "The Sci-Fi sector also awards you the Distinguished Flying Cross."

  Eric repeated the whole process Slice had just done before him, and returned to his seat.

  I was in serious trouble by now. My entire left side was aflame. I’d almost missed getting my right hand back on the scooter in time to keep me from falling off. I hung on like grim death, hoping no one was noticing.

  266 Squadron were called next. They were also informed they had been recalled to active service with the British Fleet when they arrived at the Midnight Cobol jump point to form the blockade there. Their promotions within Hunter Security were officially recognized, and they were each also awarded the DFC. Lacey was also awarded the Distinguished Service Order for his leadership and successful defense of the Australian sector.

  This time it was General Harriman who stopped them leaving, duplicating their Br
itish awards with the Australian equivalents.

  Lacey was the last to shake my hand, and he was visibly shocked by how I looked. He saluted me first instead of after the handshake, making it as quick as he could. Our handshake lasted longer than normal as his strength guided my hand back to the scooter. He returned to his seat, and I stood there waiting for the final dismissal.

  The next name I heard was Brigadier General Smith. I startled, not expecting any of my team to be called, lost my grip on the scooter, and blacked out.

  Twenty Six

  I woke up on a bed, with Jane and Jeeves standing over me. Marshall Bigglesworth was behind them, with the Queen standing next to him. I was relatively pain free, so I assumed Jeeves had given me the long overdue pain shot.

  "How long?" I asked.

  "Only a few minutes," said Jane.

  "You blacked out," said Bigglesworth, "but Colonel Jane caught you before you reached the floor. Why didn't you say something to me, or ping me you needed a break? We could have interrupted things after Susan Bentley."

  I looked at him. It hadn't occurred to me.

  "I'm sorry," said the Queen. I must have looked shocked at the whole concept of a Queen saying sorry, as she smiled. "We should've taken your condition into account, and built in a break in the proceedings to allow you to sit for a while. The ceremony has been paused, and we'll resume when you're able. Your official presence is no longer required, so you can sit out the remainder comfortably."

  "Why do we need to resume at all?" I asked. "I thought we were finished. I guess I didn’t say anything because I was expecting to be dismissed at any second."

  "Not finished just yet, Admiral," said Bigglesworth with a grin.

  Jane left the room, and returned with a grav chair very similar to my own. She looked a question at me, and I nodded. She plucked me from the bed and sat me down on the chair, without giving my leg as much as a twinge. Thanks be to pain meds.

  The Queen and Bigglesworth left, and Jane pushed me back into the Ceremony room, through the general entrance. A lot of anxious faces smiled as I was pushed in, obviously looking better.