Hunter Legacy 5 Hail the Hero (16 page)

I awoke at seven thirty, to a combination
of pain and Jeeves calling my name. I lay there for a moment, bothered by more
unremembered dreams of purple smoke, until I suddenly realized I was now late
for dinner.

Jeeves gave me another pain shot, and I
pulled myself off the bed using the scooter. I needed the bathroom badly. By
the time I felt refreshed, I’d lost another fifteen minutes, and set out after
Jeeves to wherever dinner was being held.

I was the last one there, predictably. But
instead of being told off for being tardy, I was greeted with booming applause.

I looked around the large Dining Room,
seeing an oblong space, with a long table down the middle. There were only two
empty seats, one at each end.

A palace functionary indicated the seat at
the end closest to me. I eased myself into position ready to sit, but before I
could do so, another functionary at the other end of the room said, “All
stand for Her Majesty.”

I remained where I was, still on my
scooter, while the rest of the table all rose.

The young girl I’d seen during the
afternoon entered, took her place at the other end of the table, nodded down
the table, and sat.

“You may be seated,” said the
functionary.

I eased myself into my chair, and the
functionary nearest me deftly moved me under the table without banging my leg,
while a second positioned a pouffe for it. The table itself was wide enough
that no-one was near enough to bang my leg. Once again it made me a bit
isolated, but it was better than having people kicking my leg accidently. Jane
took the scooter from the room.

Nearest to me were the Generals and
Admirals. At the other end were senior British and London government officials.
In the middle was everyone of consequence who fought the war.

While a good distance away from me, my main
sightline was the Queen. As the courses came and went, I concentrated very hard
on not looking at her.

Conversation went on across me, but I let
it go without my input. I’d had enough sleep to keep me going, but not enough
to feel rested.

And truth to tell, I didn’t really want to
be here. I’d have preferred to be back in my bedroom, on my way home, doing
releases for all the dead I didn’t pull the trigger for, but gave the orders
which killed them. Their weight seemed overbearing. I’d missed the celebration
on Dallas, and was now wishing I was missing this one as well.

It seemed almost obscene to be celebrating
at all. How many ships had I killed? How many people? It wasn’t any wonder I’d
been dead for fifteen minutes. I deserved it. A spiritual person killing in the
magnitude I’d done? I wasn’t sure why I’d woken up.

Or maybe that was the point. Living was my
penance now.

Still not hungry, I’d pecked my way through
the first few courses, and was now moving my dessert around my plate.

“Are you okay Jon?” asked Walter.

I looked up from my plate, which I hadn’t
really been seeing, and looked at him.

“Sorry, what?”

“Are you okay Jon. You don’t look like
you’re all here.”

It felt like most of this end of the table
were looking at me.

“I guess I’m not. It’s sinking in how
many people I’m responsible for killing, and finding something in my belief
system which allows it, has proved to not be a happening thing.” I sighed.
“I’d just as soon be in my bedroom and heading home, than anywhere trying
to celebrate.”

“You’re missing the whole point
Jon,” said Darius. I looked at him. “We celebrate survival, not what
it took to survive. We give credit where it’s due, for those who made that
survival possible. We celebrate life and its continuation.”

“Well said,” added Walter.
“Jon, take some time when you return to Nexus. Go and find a beach
somewhere, and sit on it for a week or two. You’ve had a rough two months, and
done the impossible at the same time. You’re exhausted as well as physically
damaged. The last thing you should be doing at the moment is think.”

“Not much else I can do.”

“Not so,” said Patton.
“You’re mobile. Try a combat range on your scooter. Hell, I might find one
and come try it with you!”

My end of the table all laughed, and I
joined in reluctantly. He had a point. I could try the assault courses on my
scooter. It would keep me busy, and perhaps give me a new skill set.

I made an effort to finish my dessert.

The others around me made more of an effort
to keep me in the conversation now, so the mood I’d been falling into wasn’t
allowed to progress any further. All the same, I didn’t recall anything which
was said.

As everyone was enjoying their coffee, and
talking about how good it was, I sat back and looked around the table. My eyes
went up one side, and came to rest on the Queen, who I suddenly realized, I
knew nothing about, not even her name. In fact, I hadn’t been aware British
sector had a Queen. Something must have happened recently. I thought I should’ve
been asking someone. But then, did it really matter? I was here for another
couple of days, wasn’t getting involved in anything local, and probably would never
be back. I had enough to worry about besides the British monarchy.

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.”