HOW CAN MAN DIE BETTER?

 

One lone futuristic Higgins boat finds itself the sole protection for the trapped convoy of WWII's Operation Tiger.

A major with no knowledge of how to lead finds himself the unwilling host to an ancient entity, Sentient.

He must find it within himself to be more than what he believes he can be or soldiers who trust in him will pay a terrible price.

HOW CAN MAN DIE BETTER?

“We're born alone, we live alone,we die alone. Only through our love and friendship can we create the illusionfor the moment that we're not alone.”

- Orson Welles

 

I fixed my face into stone. I woulddo what I could until I figured the rest out.

St. Marok's taught me:

Real life is nasty. It's cruel.It doesn't fight fair.

It doesn't care about heroes andhappy endings and the way things ought to be. In real life, bad things happen.People die. Fights are lost. Evil often wins.

But until it did, you kept swingingwith all you had.

And sometimes, miracles happened.Not very damn often … but enough times to keep you trying.

“We’ll slip in between those twonew E-Boats. Each team has one last Stinger. When we fire, we’ll hurl the Argonbatteries into them as we pass. Then, we head to those drowning soldiers andpick them up.”

“Just how the hell do we do that?”barked Reese. “Throw a fishing line over those damn high bulkheads?”

In desperation, I hurled mythoughts at Sentient. ‘What he said.’

‘I do not have the time to explain,nor you the mental capacity to understand the permeable dialectic structure ofreality. Just tell that pest “A futuristic form of Osmosis.”’

So, I did.

Reese snorted, “That don’t makeno sense.”

Sgt. Savalas snapped, “Shoot now.Bitch later. Much later!”

I took a deep breath, “This iswhere we hold them! This is where we fight! This is where they die! Rememberthis day, for it will be yours for all time.”

We sailed between the strangelooking E-Boats. We fired. We might as well have launched fireworks at them. TheArgon batteries did a bit better, starting fires and killing a few Nazis on thedecks.

Cloverfield swung his Sig Spearover his shoulder, took aim, and killed a few more. Reese and Wilson did the same.Sgt. Savalas followed a heartbeat later.

Then, we were past them, quicklyturning towards the floundering soldiers. The salty sea spray burned my eyes aswe moved at a fantastic speed.

Some of those soldiers sank evenas we neared them. The Rocinante rocked violently as a torpedo from oneof the new E-Boats scored a direct hit.

“Hey!” yelped Porkins. “I thoughtwe was protected from their torpedoes.”

“I-I have an enemy in New Orleans.And he is more intelligent than humanly possible. He sent these ships to killme.”

Reese twisted about in his seatto glare at me. “So, we die because you made a bad enemy? They ain’tdying like you just claimed they would. But because of you, we will!”

The Rabbi met him glare forglare. “Remind us again how Rick saved you in Calcutta.”

Reese’s hot eyes never left mine.“That was then. This is now.”

The Rocinante rockedviolently again from another direct hit.

“H-How many hits like that can wetake, Major?” quavered Porkins.

Reese answered for me. “Not too damnmany more and that’s for sure, Franklin.”

A huge hatch beneath Theo and meopened, and a familiar voice called out, “Well, you guys sure know how to showa girl a good time.”

Sgt. Savalas added his glare to Reese’s.“Damn you, Rick, you brought Rachel out here?”

I was about to tell my friendthat I had no memory of bringing the nurse here, but he angrily snapped. “Save it, Blaine! Idon’t believe in that Dark Passenger of yours anymore. Not if it puts Rachelin jeopardy!”

Blaine, was it? I sighed. I hadlost another friend to Sentient.

As the rest of my Spartans rushedout of the enormous hatch, Rachel grabbed Theo by both arms. “Oh, don’t be thatway! I made him promise to keep mum.”

“Doc” Tennyson walked hurriedlyto me as I slid from my seat. “My God, Major! The medicines, splints, and otheraides in that chamber. And all of them with simple self-explanatory directions.We could deal with a full-fledged disaster.”

Rachel was literally dancingaround my former friend. “We will be able to save ever so many of even the worstof the wounded. Oooh!”

A wave of frigid water washedover our ankles as three dozen wounded soldiers tumbled through thebulkheads at our feet.

Theo glared at me and said low, “Ihate you for putting Rachel at risk like this.”

She grabbed a tiny fistful of hisjacket.

“Stow that kind of talk, Mister!I huddled scared out of my wits all during the Blitz, praying for a chance to getback at those bloody Nazis. And this, Sgt. Savalas, is the answer to thatprayer!”

The Rocinante lurched terriblyas two torpedoes hit us at once.

‘That Reese is correct. We shall sinkif hit with too many more torpedoes. But if Morton cheats, then so will I.’

A sibilant jinking of metaljoints drew my eyes to the bow of Rocinante. A strange jutting cannon rosegleaming and deadly in the full moonlight. It was as if that Martian Death Rayfrom H.G. Wells’ War of the Worlds had been given life … or should I sayDeath.

Stairs formed beneath it to take someoneto fire it.

‘Have that malcontent Reese shootit. He owes you for Calcutta.’

I didn’t like the tone to Sentient’swords. ‘Why?’

‘It is a prototype from 310 yearsfrom now. To shoot it for long will cost the person his hands. But the gloves Ihave tucked in his belt will help somewhat with the pain.’

‘What? No! I am not a generalthat I will order someone to maim themselves doing a job that I can.’

‘You will not!”

The stairs melted back into thebulkhead.

‘Watch me.’

I raced to Reese and snatched thegloves from under his belt as Rachel watched with a frown. “I’ll take these.”

“Hey! I didn’t even know I hadthose.”

“Then, you won’t miss them, willyou?”

Running up to the Martian DeathRay, I grabbed Cloverfield by the left upper arm. “James, I need a boost.”

His brows furrowed at my use ofhis first name. “Why?”

“Because Theo is too mad to do itright now. And we have no time for him to cool off. I don’t act now; you allwill die.”

His eyes narrowed even more. “Whydon’t I go up there instead of you?”

Rachel was suddenly at my side asI said, “Whoever shoots that gun will lose his hands.”

“No!” they both yelled.

“James, I am not a general toorder someone to maim themselves. The rank is mine. So, is this task.”

Rocinante rocked from another torpedohit. “James!”

“You’re a wanker for making me dothis!”

He made a stirrup of his fingersand boosted me up to leap to the malevolent weapon. Oh, merde, I was such an idiot.

‘Yes, you are. I will notminimize the pain.’

‘I’m not asking you to.’

‘The way to fire is self-evident.Even a simpleton like you can do it.’

‘I’ll miss you, too.’

Theo was frowning as if suspectingsomething was up. I called down to him and the Rabbi.

“Amos, Theo, the Spartans areyours now! I’ve done what I can. Be good shepherds.”

‘You do not have to do this!”

‘Sure, I do. Now, charge those twotin cans!”

The wind of Rocinante’s chargealmost blew off my Spartan Helmet. I clung to the Death Ray while I pulled onReese’s stiff gloves.

I blew out a breath. Sooner orlater, everyone sits down to a banquet of consequences ...and the indigestionfrom this one was going to kill me.

What would be my last thought? WouldI even finish it?

Mr. Morton’s two E-Boats seemedto be rushing up to me when I knew it was quite the opposite. This was notgoing to be “that good night” nor was I going to go gently into it.

I frowned. That poem had not beenwritten yet. How did I know that?

‘You are about to die and yet,you still can drive me to distraction!  I… I will miss you.’

‘Now, you tell me.’

I grabbed the dual grips andpulled the triggers as I aimed at the Nazi boats.

Screaming wetly, I wrenched mysmoking palms from the grips.

I expected pain but not like that.

I flexed my steaming, glovedfingers. All right. I had been hurt before. I could do this.

I could.

I drew in a frigid lungful of air,willing myself to grip those trigger handles. I squirmed in agony.

I pried open tearing eyes totarget those sons of bitches sent from Morton.

Maybe I was a lousy soldier, alousy leader, a worse teacher.

But I could spare those who trustedme to watch out for them.

I could.

I just couldn’t hold back the screamsanymore. I just could not.

 But there was one thing I could do. I couldhold on.

I had held on all my life, nevergiving the bullies in my life the satisfaction of crying “Uncle.”

And I wouldn’t cry it now.

I screamed but I held on.

I held on, shooting dazzling acidbeams of light into one E-Boat and then the second.

Then, a grenade tossed from thenearest E-Boat hit the outer edge of the Death Ray’s housing. An invisible forcecame between me and the explosion.

Still, flames enveloped the roundedoutside of the turret. Dozens of jets of cold sea water doused the sizzlingfuneral pyre in front of me, enveloping me in reams of steam.

To my friends on the deck, itmust appear as if I were being consumed in my own Viking funeral.

My head was so light. My handswere flaming comets. I fought back bile. Everything was going dark.

Over the stench of my burningflesh, I smelled the apricot perfume of … Helen Mayfair?

That could not be.

But it was.

I heard her voice. She wasreading a favorite poem of hers to me in that mysterious, deadly library at St.Marok’s. I remembered that particular evening so clearly.

And for a heartbeat, the terribleagony eased just a bit. Just a bit. But still, that “bit” was wonderful.

“To every man upon this earth

Death cometh soon or late.

And how can man die better

Than facing fearful odds,

For the ashes of his fathers,

And the temples of his gods?”

The deck seemed to evaporate, andI fell to it as if into clouds.

I smiled, thinking, ‘I heldon.’