Last Hope for Earth

by Jaime Mera

  It took a week for Estabon’s official parental approve to come in the mail, but in the meantime, Estabon was allowed to attend class and perform without weapons or sparing.

  Estabon quickly won over the group, showing his proficiency, manners and confident leadership attitude. Hachiro likewise won Estabon’s respect as a well disciplined teacher and honorable person. The control of his mind over body impressed both brothers, surpassing any of the other several hundred thousand people they already read.

  The year came with more challenges as Estabon joined a Chinese and Korean dojo. The need for normal students to spend time studying was filled by his extracurricular activities. In addition, Eduardo entered the United States Army that same year, being commissioned and accepted into the Green Beret, 1st Special Forces Group. Estabon saw all Eduardo went through in training and assignments. He would be graduating MIT soon and heavily debated whether to take the same path his brother did or continue with another doctorate. Another option was to join the CIA with his skills as a Grand Master in three certified fighting styles and disciplines. Unlike schools, the next step required him to work his way into what they needed. The CIA was a strong option, but it also presented a possible future problem if they were found out about their powers. The military was not as intrusive in their lives and still allowed them to meet men of war and leaders of many countries.

  In the end, he would have to come to a final decision and use his ultimate tie breaker; his parents.

  Chapter 3

   --- 

  The Draft

  Silver Springs, Maryland, 1966

  Lucy’s tired voice caused for some concern. It was late and evident she hadn’t slept very well. “Mom, it will be okay. Eduardo has been in Nam for over a year without getting hurt.” Estabon embraced her as she stood in the kitchen.

  Her black hair was cut short so the summer heat wouldn’t bother her neck. “How can we contact you?” Her heart sank as they planned on moving back to Colombia.

  “The mail will still get to you, and I promise I will write when I can.” Estabon reassured her.

  “You know your dad wants you and Eduardo to come live with us after the war is over.” Her hazel green eyes looked up at his.

  “After the war, we’re going to spend some time here in the US making some money, but we will visit.” Estabon’s words were always honorable and eased her anxieties.

  “You promised, so I will believe you.”

  “Get some sleep mom. I’ll wake you and dad up so you can see me off.” He kissed her on the head and hugged her tighter.

  The added minutes before Lucy actually returned to her bed lasted longer than usual. Estabon was glad Eduardo was included in the moment. It seemed they could be separated half way around the world and still be able to mentally contact each other at will.

  The temporary vacation was the first time Estabon had no obligation to attend a class in school or dojo. But the memories of his parting with classmates, professors, friends and dojo families were still emotionally depressing. Now he would have to say farewell to his parents, the only consolation was eventually being physically close to Eduardo in the middle of an escalating war.

  The next several months at Fort Benning, Georgia for Basic Training and Officer Candidate School was the initial start before moving on to Fort Bragg, South Carolina. It seemed like a repeat of training which he went through with Eduardo’s flare, but it was much easier having already cataloged all the memories, lessons and valuable combat experience Eduardo was currently living through. The public outlook around the Army installation was positive to some degree with many military and civilian personnel supporting the war effort. However, Estabon wasn’t ignorant to the negative media and veterans’ frustrations and horrors which were mainly supplied by Eduardo’s encounters in the jungles of Vietnam and surrounding countries.

  Due to Eduardo’s combat experience, Estabon landed in Danang Airbase with extensive foreknowledge of how his superhuman powers worked. He wasn’t invincible or all knowing, being unable to see stray bullets, or keep indiscriminate artillery explosions or weather from injuring him or his men. He was however, an expert in every field, with a fluent knowledge base of a dozen Asian dialects. So when he walked off the C-46 Commando transport plane, he knew those limitations, but hoped he could improve on areas Eduardo didn’t have an opportunity to test, but theorized could happen. Activity on the base was high as various aerial platforms and units lived and worked within the large installation. Coming out of the 6th Special Forces Group, Estabon lead his Operational Detachment-A, or better known as an A-Team, to the reception center. The twelve men moved casually as if they were on a field trip, expecting to finally get to work.

  “Captain Ramirez, your team will be transported south to link-up with 1st Group.” Lt. Colonel Cambers met the team in front of the building before they had a chance to lay their duffle bags to rest.

  “Yes, Sir.” Estabon answered without saluting. “Just lead the way.”

  Cambers looked at the A-team, it was evident they were well informed on the way things were done, probably from a veteran Soldier who had tours under his belt. But none of the twelve men seemed like they had been in country for very long, except for the Sergeant Major. With a half smirk he led the team to three jeeps, loading up into the first jeep, Estabon sat in the passenger’s seat. “Your brother must have told you what to expect.” He finally said as he drove the quarter ton jeep towards the helicopter strips.

  “Let’s just say everything he knows, I know.” Estabon’s loudly replied over the blowing wind and helicopter noise.

  “He’s becoming a legend around here; I just hope you measure up.” Cambers remarked with high hopes of Estabon performing like his brother who moved up the ranks, with the highest survival rate of his units and confirmed enemy kills and captures.

  “I will do my best, Sir.” Estabon replied, knowing Eduardo had saved Cambers’ life a year ago when his B-Team entered an ambush.

  The jeeps stopped short of two Huey gunships ready to take the team to their permanent camp. The men loaded up and flew off as Cambers waved them away. Within the month, Estabon’s team was tasked to conduct a search and destroy mission into Laos; a precursor to General Westmorland’s escalation of direct actions against Viet-con and North Vietnamese Army forces.

  No matter the day, the heat and humidity underneath the canopy of trees seemed to never end with constant rain showers and blistering summer rays. As usual, the point man stealthily traversed unlikely routes of travel. Estabon held his modified AK-47 out in front of his body with a slight cant upwards. His unorthodox fashion of being close to the point man put him in harm’s way, but he always seemed to know when danger approached or a sniper’s crosshairs were aimed in his direction; at least in training and during their now four combat patrols.

  The fifty kilometer trek after the drop off insertion point took them deep into neutral territory, or so it was supposed to be. It was slow going, but worth the effort as they bypassed two villages and several main vehicular paths without detection. Half of the team carried a mixture of Warsaw Pact made weapons, while the rest favored US weapons; in particular, shotguns and sniper rifles. Their rations were Vietnamese instead of the US cuisine, making them smell like the enemy should they be upwind.

  They bed down in the middle of thick vegetation waiting for the early morning expecting to link up with a SEAL recon team the next morning to determine the exact location of the primary target. The cigar shaped perimeter blended with the night sounds and early morning shower. Estabon slept well until the minds of several North Vietnamese abruptly disturbed him. The man on lookout was awake but the heavy rainfall masked the Viet-con patrol’s brushing with foliage. Estabon quickly touched the men next to him passing down the word of an incoming patrol. It was pitch black and the water droplets made it seem impossible to see or hear clearly, but the men were accustomed to the darkness, making out shades of grays; along with trained ears and noses. The me
n slowly placed their weapons off safe or were ready to fire while simultaneously switching the safety. Each scanned their small sectors with attentive eyes and ears. Estabon moved within arm’s reach of the men to his left and right. “Don’t fire unless I fire. They’re going to pass us, so let them. Pass is down.” Estabon whispered into their ears.

  Estabon could see that half of his men saw nothing into the blackness of the jungle, and heard nothing. But they knew something was out there because the alarm was given by their leader.

  Sergeant First Class Rick Isol lay on his stomach, a perturbing tree root annoying his ribcage. It was a stop on his left side as he slept, but now it was a distraction. He was responsible for employing smoke grenades should they be compromised. So he slid his hand down by his knee where his small ruck laid. He felt for the white smoke grenades, noticeable by the number of one thin duck tape wrapping. He paused for a second; thinking things through. A logical person would see any smoke in the dark and within the confines of the trees in rainy weather would be ineffective should a flare be popped. But on the other hand it would mask a Soldier’s retreat, so he grabbed a grenade ready to launch it on command. Each member of the team was prepared to fulfill their battle drill duties and he wasn’t going to let the team down.

  Estabon rose and moved to the center of his men, facing the twenty man enemy patrol. The patrol was moving for speed, or so it seemed, but he could see what they were doing and why. They were trying to provoke his patrol into giving up their position and confirm they were in the area. A spy gave the Viet-con intel that an A-Team would be in the area. It was a big jungle and their stealthy early insertion made the Viet-con take drastic measures.

  SFC Isol held his M-16 rifle trigger handle and the smoke grenade with his other hand braced against the rifle’s handguard. A faint sound of brushing and steps came to his ears. The men to his sides also heard the movement coming closer, but it could have been a family of boar for all they knew. It wasn’t until the unmistakable sound of a wooden stock hitting tree bark and a mumbled thump of a person either slipping or tripping on something gave up their approximate distance and direction.

  Estabon smiled as his men kept their cool; the rustling becoming louder and in a few minutes time, faded away back into the night. He stood up and made his way around the twelve Soldier team, telling them to face in back to back. “Okay, change of plan. There are two battalions of Viet-con looking for us. A spy leaked out info on the mission. We start moving now and find the SEAL team before they get to the link-up. I will lead point, everyone stay close because we will be moving fast. Tap and move. Team daddy will be behind me, Chief will take the rear. Everyone got it?” Estabon waited for each man to reply, even though he already knew what they were thinking and feeling.

  The Viet-con were more organized than most people gave them credit, but since he knew how the battalions were spreading around the battle space, he knew the pockets of error and areas they would have already covered. The passing patrol was late to a checkpoint and cut their sweep by lining up single file to be able to get through the dark wet jungle faster. There was another patrol coming up from behind the passing patrol, as a measure to possibly be back-up if a patrol made contact. They were going to easily bypass any patrol out there, but Estabon knew it would be a matter of time when the sun would come up and the veil of darkness favoring them would go away.

  The team moved rapidly through the jungle, Estabon’s sharp eyesight helped greatly in traversing the heavy brush and ground obstacles, but his mind reading powers gave him a sort of radar for people and dangerous wildlife. The second in command, Chief Logan Farrell, kept a watchful eye to the rear.

  Morning came two hours later as the team made it to a wide river west of the link-up point. They changed to the SEAL team’s short range frequency which Estabon knew from the unofficial mission brief in the head of the Navy intelligence commander.

  “Juno three-niner, this is Hercules six, over.” Staff Sergeant Somers transmitted.

  Static replied, in between multiple attempts to reach the Navy team. “Tell them House One is compromised, Hercules is at one klick by the water.” Estabon instructed as the team posted three of their best snipers looking out, up and down stream.

  SSG Somers nodded his head in the direction of Team Daddy, Sergeant Major Banks. Estabon sat facing the river but almost nothing could be seen as the foliage kept the team hidden. “Captain. Juno came back with new coordinates.”

  “But?” Estabon replied and looked at his senior enlisted.

  “Somers says they didn’t sound American, the new coordinates puts us close to the original linkup point.” Banks’ wide jaw gave him a menacing look, but his deep voice confirmed his no bull shit Soldiering skills and position as the backbone of the team.

  “Chief, we need to huddle.” Estabon motioned for the CW2 to come next to them.

  “Alright, Team Daddy, this is probably a trap, so we have several options. The SEAL team is either dead, were never coming, prisoners or they’re moving into an ambush. Our primary target is probably thinking they’re safe, or they never existed. So what do you guys think we should do?” Estabon opened it up to the two most experienced Soldiers on the team, besides himself.

  “The SEAL team might still be on their way. And we can find out if the target is in the area, but it will take us a little longer to do without the SEAL team’s intel.” Chief Farrell said.

  “The team has been in the area for a while, so they might have been captured. If not, then the best spot to attack us would be at the linkup point, where both of us would be at. Either way, there is no reason for the Viet-con to search for us if they know about the linkup point. So the SEAL team is probably real and looking for us.” SGM Banks said.

  “I say we go north of the linkup point, the battalions are focused on the south. There’s an old prisoner camp near the linkup point which is probably why they didn’t want us to make it there.” Estabon said as he pointed on an unfolded laminated map.

  “Sir, I know you have never been wrong in the past six months, but how do you know this stuff?” SGM Banks asked.

  “Just like I know Somers changed to the alternate freq and made contact with the real Juno, who is two klicks west of us.” Estabon said as SSG Somers moved behind him, echoing what Estabon said.

  Banks’ wide eyes looked in a mirror as he turned to see the Chief’s same reaction. “How the hell?”

  “No, hell will be raised at the objective. Okay, let’s meet Juno and see what they have for us.” Estabon stowed the map and prepared to move as lead point-man.

  Banks and Farrell quickly returning to their duties watching some of the men smile overhearing the discussion. Estabon was clearly young, but far from naive or inexperienced. He was an Alexander the Great reincarnation, except his A-team was far more dangerous than any army of war elephants.

  Chapter 4

   --- 

  Lester

  Jungle North of Saravane, Laos

  Estabon moved quickly through the jungle, something his men were accepting of or very concerned about. Movement through the jungle was easy in itself, but rushing through foliage was dangerous should they encounter traps, the enemy or danger areas. It was a rule of survival which Estabon seemed to ignore, but it wasn’t a surprise as the months of training they had back in CONUS showed them that his sense of knowing his surrounding was better than a wild beast on a hunt. The three-mile per hour pace quickly got them near the SEAL team’s reported position as Estabon halted the group. Estabon returned to the center of the formation. “Tell Juno we’re two hundred meters to their northeast.”

  SSG Somers communicated the info, as SGM Banks prepared the men on line in case this was some kind of trick to get into the patrol. “Authentication, checks out.” Somers reported.

  “Once they come in, we’ll see about getting the men into dryer socks and things.” Estabon addressed Banks’ long-term concerns.

  “Yes, Captain.” Banks camouflaged face s
weat green camo as he padded his forehead with his sleeve, tipping his boonie cap back for a moment. The cap saw many firefights and survived intense bombardments over the years, but the Sun was its worst enemy.

  Estabon lay down next to his men on the line. “Fifty more meters.” He signed as the men were spread out covering a thirty meter kill zone.

  Two US Navy Soldiers weeded through the brush with M16s pointing forward. The SEAL team’s uniforms were tiger striped with shades of browns, grays and greens; a minor contrast to the A-team’s Beo Gam Duck Hunter’s Camo design of disfigured spots. The challenge was announced by the A-team; receiving the correct password by the SEAL team.

  Estabon saw the eight man team with an attached CIA operative enter their perimeter. Now he understood what the commotion was about with their mission. His team was supposed to attack a North Vietnamese Army camp as a distraction; while the SEAL team assassinated a rogue agent giving the enemy critical information. His team was focusing on destroying enemy stockpiles, but also provided a plausible cover for the murder.

  The perimeter was readjusted with seven extra men as Estabon, LT Holland and LT Keeter sat; huddled in the center of the patrol, going over their mission.

  LT Holland, the SEAL team leader, took note of the compromised frequencies, but from his experience it was a common occurrence which is why he ordered they move to the alternate freq.

  “The objective is here with approximately a company of men at any given time. The Viet-con uses it as a staging area to resupply and reconstitute.” Dirty blonde hair was exposed through the bottom edge of his dark green bandana.

  “We have to get there before it gets dark, so we can identify the amounts of supplies, ammunition and weapons.” Keeter interjected.