Grunt Hero

by Weston Ochse

  “Molon Labe to Jean Danjou,” we all repeated in unison.

  “And you, Ohirra? For whom are you fighting?”

  Her eyes were narrowed and her face hard. “Mr. and Mrs. Phillip and Susan Johnson and their three children, Betsy, Francy and Jacob, who were brutally mowed down and killed by a marine who’d too much to drink and was in too much of a hurry to care about anyone else but herself.”

  With my hand on her shoulder, I said simply, “Molon Labe.” Olivares knew the story but I doubted any of the others did. And now wasn’t the time to tell them.

  Finally, I put my hand on Alpha’s shoulder, who was beaming at me with a strange, implacable smile. “And you Alpha, for whom do you fight?”

  Pride filled his voice as he said, “I fight for the three thousand nine hundred and sixty-three other versions of myself who gave watch, because I can.”

  “For all the Alphas. Molon Labe.”

  Everyone said, “Molon Labe.”

  I stood and pulled Alpha to his feet. “Now let’s go and take it to them. Let’s go find the enemy and kill the Umi once and for all.”

  I started to put my hand out, when Stranz said, “Wait!”

  “What is it?”

  “L.T., you never told us who you were fighting for.”

  “Me? I fight for all of you.”

  “No, come on. That’s a cop out. We all fight for each other, sure. But who did you love that you’re fighting for?”

  I thought of my time with Mother and how I’d insanely hooked up with one of my old girlfriends, Suzi. We’d dated for over a year back in the 2000s. But too many deployments had soured her on the idea of loving a soldier. Then came the invasion. She survived, but lost an arm and an eye. She also lost much of her sanity. She could barely function, yet she’d still recognized me. I thought I’d be able to fix her, to help her through the worst of it, but then she’d walked off one night and killed herself. Suzi Wanaka, the girl of my dreams, the only girl for a guy like me. Had she still been alive, I never would have gone to Savoonga and never met Merlin, and perhaps I wouldn’t even be here.

  “Are you going to answer?” Olivares asked, eyeing me with concern.

  Suzi and I had seen The Matrix at Mann’s Chinese Theater and had laughed at how tiny William Shatner’s footprints were out front. Even her feet were larger than Shatner’s. I pictured this version of her, laughing—war free, alien free and whole.

  I nodded and cleared my throat. “I fight for Suzi Wanaka,” I said. “Molon Labe.”

  Everyone said, “Molon Labe.”

  My chest was heavy and my heart was an anvil. Still, I put my hand out and everyone put their hands on mine. I could feel the weight of these grunts. My grunts. “Molon Labe,” I said.

  They repeated it after me, then we all turned and headed towards the Rally Point. We were halfway there when a squadron of F-35s roared past above, dropping bombs and strafing all those on the ground.

  When your time comes to die, be not like those whose hearts are filled with fear of death, so that when their time comes they weep and pray for a little more time to live their lives over again in a different way. Sing your death song, and die like a hero going home.

  Tecumseh

  CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

  EXPLOSIONS ROCKED THE Khron beachhead as twelve F-35 Lightnings hit their afterburners and shot into the sky. I watched in shock as six peeled one way and six peeled the other, clearly coming around for another sortie.

  Fires burned where their GBU bombs had hit. EXOs lay dead and dying from the four-barrel 23mm Equalizer cannons. The drop ship still stood, but it was on fire in three places, and even as I watched, one of the tall antenna broke off, tilted slowly, then fell, impaling the earth with a sixty meter spike.

  “What the fuck just happened?” Olivares said.

  “NUSNA!” shouted Ohirra. “They’re attacking.”

  I heard a rumble in the distance, which I immediately recognized as C-130s. A lot of them.

  I searched the sky for the donut-shaped space craft of the Khron, but it was empty except for the returning F-35s.

  “Alpha, where are the Vipers?”

  “They were sent south to investigate an Umi sighting.”

  “All of them?”

  He looked at me in horror.

  The F-35s were coming back around.

  “Hero Squad, follow me!”

  I took off at a mad sprint perpendicular to the planes’ attack run. All EXOs were being ordered to rendezvous at the drop ship, but that was the absolute wrong strategy. The last thing we needed was to put all of our forces into one small area and make it easier to attack. That’s when I figured that coms had been hacked.

  I got on the net and shouted, “Disregard order. Coms have been hacked. Do not rendezvous at drop ship. I repeat do not—” And then I was cut out of the net. Son of a bitch. But did that mean I’d lost coms with my EXOs? “Radio check all Heroes?”

  Thankfully I got Five by Fives from all of them. So I couldn’t communicate out, but I could still communicate with my Heroes.

  “Alpha, you calling the Vipers back?”

  “I can’t be sure. I think I’m being jammed.”

  I gaze-flicked my radar but it was being jammed as well.

  We’d put about two kilometers between us and the Khron beachhead when I had everyone pull up. We turned and watched as the twelve F-35s strafed the ground, each one twisting and turning to inflict the greatest damage with their Equalizer cannons.

  “Shit, we got troops in the air,” Stranz said, pointing east.

  Dozens of C-130s shadowed the blue sky at five thousand feet. Hundreds of black dots began to empty out of them. I knew what that meant.

  I looked around, but there was nothing but a few oil derricks on this wide, flat plain and that was the last place I wanted to hide. One or two rounds into one of them and we’d have geysers of flame shooting out of the ground. It looked like we’d have to make our stand here.

  “Evasive action,” Ohirra shouted. “F-35 headed our way.”

  “Spread out!” I ordered, bringing both my arms up. I locked out the elbows, initiating the actuator and aimed at the oncoming jet.

  It fired as it came and I watched the 23mm rounds plow divots in the earth on a trail directly towards me.

  I fired the flechettes, aiming for the right engine by locking a red target indicator over it. With almost no recoil, it was difficult to judge whether or not I was firing. If it hadn’t been for the firing solution and constant target updates from my HUD, I never would have even known. The new electronics in the HUD controlled my arms and made microscopic adjustments that kept the flechettes on target. My eyes were wide with growing fear as the jet continued on its course, the bullets tearing up the earth towards me.

  Then I was flying to my left as a great weight hit me.

  When I bent my arms to stop my fall, I stopped firing. I hit the ground and rolled. Olivares rolled next to me. I watched in my HUD as the jet jerked to the left, then hit the ground erupting into a fireball. I covered my head as dirt and debris rained down.

  Olivares was on his feet first. “What are you trying to do? Kill yourself?”

  He helped me to my feet. “Just trying to shoot the damn thing down.”

  “Well, you managed to do that. Now what?”

  I turned and began to run towards the crash. “On me!”

  When we arrived I noted that there wasn’t much left. About a third of the fuselage and most of a wing were the biggest pieces of the plane still intact. “Charlemagne and Chance, get this set up for protection.”

  “What are you planning?” Ohirra asked.

  “Rorke’s Drift until the Vipers return. It’s all we can do.”

  “What’s that?” Alpha asked.

  “It was a battle in the Zulu War in South Africa,” Stranz said. “One hundred and fifty Englishman against four thousand Zulus.”

  “That’s right! Michael Caine played Bromhead,” Alpha said excitedly. �
�I remember that movie very well. It was called Zulu.”

  “Eleven Victoria Crosses were awarded for the bravery of the soldiers there,” Charlemagne added as he, with the help of Chance, heaved the wing into a position where it would serve as a wall for us to stand behind.

  “Well, there’s not going to be any Victoria Crosses here, nor will anyone make a movie out of it. Our job is to inflict as much damage as possible while surviving until the Vipers return.” I shook my head. “I still can’t believe that the damned Khron took all of them.”

  Chance and Charlemagne stood back as they finished. We essentially now had a V-shaped fighting position with the fuselage and a wing to protect us. Not that either would stand a continued assault of fifty caliber rounds, but it was far better than being out in the middle of nowhere with nothing but our shwanzes in our hands.

  Ohirra opened fire from her position at the end of the fuselage.

  I gaze-flicked into her POV and saw that several of the immense NUSNA EXOs were heading this way, with more landing. We seemed to be on the northern edge of the battlefront, which was fortunate. Anyone who’d heeded the fake call to rendezvous at the drop ship would get chopped up as NUSNA forces concentrated their fire there.

  Near the drop ship everything was in frenzy. The jets had departed, but NUSNA EXOs were landing everywhere, firing from the air as they landed. Their fifty caliber rounds tore into Khron EXOs, laying them out in tens and twenties. Part of me wanted to run to their aid, but I knew that our best shot was to stay put.

  My radar was still being blocked so I had no way to determine how many enemy EXOs there were. my best guess was about a thousand.

  “I got two of them, but more are on the way.” Ohirra said.

  “There’s no way for us to set up interlocking fields of fire because of the shape of our defensive position. So we’ll play possum. Don’t engage until they are five hundred meters out.”

  “Brilliant,” Chance said. “It’s the end of the world and I get to pretend to be a marsupial.”

  “What is this marsupial?” Charlemagne asked.

  “Rodents with big eyes that carry their young in their pockets,” Olivares said. “And this moment of zoology has been brought to you by Ex-Lax and the law firm of Dewy, Cheatem and Howe.”

  “Is he messing with me?” Charlemagne turned to me and spread his arms. “I cannot tell.”

  “Yes, he’s messing with you, Frenchie,” Chance said. “But he’s also pretty accurate. That’s what opossums are. Rodents with big eyes that carry their young in their pockets.”

  I watched as Charlemagne gave her a look like he knew she was lying but couldn’t prove it.

  “Chance, I want you and Charlemagne to cover the right. Stranz and Ohirra, continue covering the left.”

  “What about me?” Olivares asked.

  “You and Alpha will stand by to reinforce as needed.” I stared at the center of the V, wishing I had a way to fire over the shield wall, but it was too high. Then I saw the dead pilot. What I’d originally thought was red paint was actually his head pinned between metal struts.

  “Four advancing towards our position,” Stranz reported.

  “Three more advancing towards our position,” Chance added.

  What I would’ve given to have my Hydra missiles back. “Let them advance to one hundred meters before engaging.”

  “But that will put them too close,” Olivares countered.

  “For whom? They might have a more powerful weapon, but we have a faster rate of fire.” I shrugged. “The alternative is to let them come and try and defeat them hand-to-hand. I know we’re lighter than they are, so perhaps that might be the best option, but I’m keeping that tactic in my pocket in case we run out of ammunition.”

  While I waited for the enemy to get closer, I thought of what went through the real Lieutenant Bromhead’s mind when four thousand Zulus descended on his little outpost. All in all, Bromhead led the defense of the drift, killing nearly a thousand Zulus while experiencing barely twenty friendly casualties. Was he constantly strategizing, or did he merely stand and watch, hoping that his trained men could win the day? Of course, the Zulus carried spears and knives while the English enjoyed the superior technology of the rifle. We didn’t have the same technological advantage with the NUSNA EXOs.

  Or did we?

  “Hey, Charlemagne?”

  “Yes, sir, L.T.”

  “Did you know that a marsupial is a rodent with big eyes who carries its young in its pocket?”

  “Oh no,” he groaned. “Not you, too.”

  Chance laughed.

  “Olivares, see if you can’t carve out a firing port in the wing and the fuselage.”

  He stared at me for a moment, then nodded. He snapped his harmonic blade into his hand and went to work on the wing. The Stellite blade vibrated at ultrasonic frequencies, allowing it to cut through things a normal blade wouldn’t even dent.

  “Three hundred meters and closing,” Ohirra said.

  “Same here,” Chance said.

  While Olivares worked on the wing, I went to the fuselage. First I had to cut out a square of metal and electronics. I tossed that aside. Then I had to make the space large enough for one of us to fit our arm and shoulder into.

  “Two hundred meters.”

  “Belay. Do not engage at one hundred meters.”

  Olivares said, “Are you serious?” but kept working on his firing port.

  Pressing with every ounce of strength I had, I was able to push through the fuselage. Once through, I began to carve the hole. Then I stood back. It wasn’t perfect, but it would do.

  “Alpha, put your arm here and when I say fire, fire.”

  “But I can’t see a target.”

  “Don’t worry about it. Just follow orders.”

  “One hundred meters,” Chance said, nervousness in her voice.

  Olivares backed away. “Done,” he said, sheathing his blade.

  I nodded. “Attend the port. Everyone fire on my command. You two on each end, high low.”

  No one said anything. They didn’t have to. I counted silently, then ordered, “Fire.”

  I drew my blade.

  All six EXOs fired. Stranz and Ohirra fired high-low using their left arms on the left, while Charlemagne and Chance fired high-low using their right arms on the right. Olivares and Alpha fired from the center. I finally had interlocking fields of fire.

  “Cease fire,” I called.

  All four EXOs on the edge of the position brought their arms back inside.

  The fuselage shuddered with an impact.

  A giant EXO came stumbling past Ohirra. It looked neither left nor right. It dragged a 50 cal in its left hand.

  I surged towards it and brought my blade down on its neck. I hacked twice, and the head fell free. It stood for a moment, then toppled.

  “Assess,” I ordered.

  “All down,” Ohirra said.

  “Anymore coming?”

  “Negative,” she said.

  “Then stand fast.”

  “The Vipers are returning,” Alpha said. “Inbound in five minutes.”

  I moved so I could see the drop ship. It looked as if there were two factions. The one nearest the ship was smaller but seemed to have successfully created defensive positions. The other faction, which I identified as NUSNA, had broken into two groups. One group was engaging the defenders, but the other had formed a circle and seemed to be doing nothing. I glanced back at the NUSNA EXO I’d beheaded, then glanced at its .50 cal.

  Oh shit. Anti-aircraft. I wasn’t sure what sort of shielding the Vipers had, but a concentration of .50 cal rounds couldn’t be good. I gauged the distance. We could reach them in five minutes, the same time the Vipers would arrive. If only we still had our missiles.

  “Heroes, on me!” I shouted, taking off at full speed towards the massed group of NUSNA EXOs.

  All six fell in behind me. I told them my plan.

  To Alpha, I asked, “What are the armame
nts on a Viper?”

  He was already breathing heavily. I’d forgotten that he’d been in custody for more years than I’d been alive. If this wasn’t the end game, I’d have benched him. “For planet-side the Viper can deploy a paralyzation strobe and plasma cannon.”

  “What kind of strobe? Paralyzation?”

  “Light at different frequency...” He huffed and puffed. “Can cause Khron to be physically ill. Vomiting, screaming headaches.” Heavy gulps of air. “Oh hell.” Wheezing. “We use it as a non-lethal substitute. It works less well during daylight hours than at night.”

  We continued to run. I was barely out of breath because of the assistance provided by the suit. “And the cannon?”

  Alpha replied, “I’ve never had to use it.”

  “But in theory?”

  “In theory,” he said, gasping, “it works very well.”

  “Is that all the information you have?”

  “My Viper... didn’t have... weaponry in... event... of... crash.” Then after about thirty seconds he said, “We wanted... to limit... tech... nology... in... wrong hands.”

  “What about shielding?”

  “Like in Star Trek?” he laughed, then started coughing. Chance had to grab his arm to keep him from falling on his face. Once he’d recovered, he said, “Nothing like that... ferro... ferro... fluid skin hardens.”

  “Well, we’ll see how well they work against .50 caliber rounds.”

  We were almost to the point I’d judged we could halt and fire when an immense weapon on the drop ship began to fire.

  We pulled up and stopped.

  All of us except Alpha stopped and stared. Alpha bent over double and grasped his knees, chest heaving.

  Whatever the weapon was, it made a sound like nothing I’d ever heard. The closest I could use for comparison would be a toilet plunger in an echo chamber. Backlit by the wide Texas sky, a ripple of air shot from the drop ship and onto the NUSNA EXOs closest to it. When it hit, it enveloped them and took them down. I didn’t even see them move or struggle.