Anthony DeCosmo - Disintegration

Apparently, such questions would have to wait.

"Then why have you brought me here?"

Fromm explained, "Your forces are defeated. Your supplies are low; your numbers have dwindled. It is a custom among my people to respect our enemies when they have exhibited the type of cunning and bravery your people have shown, despite an untenable position. Therefore, we offer to accept your surrender and provide your followers with a quick, pain-free death."

Trevor pinched his nose.

"Let me get this straight. You think we should just give up and let you execute us?"

"Dying on the battlefield can be a miserable death. I am offering your people the dignity of a painless end to their lives. It is our way of honoring the gallantry of your fighters."

Stone shook his head. His eyes narrowed. The free hand not holding the translating device jabbed a finger toward the enemy commander.

"Let me tell you our way. We fight. We fight for our lives and our world. We do not walk silently to our deaths. Our race thrives on pain. The pain of being born. The pain of living. The pain of losing…of losing things and people we care about. It’s the nature of our existence. You cannot cower us with the threat of pain. You only stiffen our resolve. My advice to you is to withdraw as fast as you can."

Trevor failed to intimidate his counterpart but Fromm’s expression of tightly pressed lips and several long blinks suggested disappointment.

"I am surprised you lack the wisdom to accept my offer. I wonder how is it you became the Force Commander of your people?"

"I have no fucking idea whatsoever."

– The third and last day of the Battle of Five Armies dawned.

Not long after sunrise Trevor, having returned unmolested to his own lines the night before, received reports of mustering enemy forces.

He sat next to Nina in the cool shade of the woods as she cleaned her rifle and he searched for the thousandth time for a plan.

If they withdrew, the Vikings would pursue, catching them in the midst of retreat or-if they dared move into the open-blasting them with their deadly catapults. These aliens meant to finish the job, on the mountain or otherwise.

If they stayed, the Vikings would attack the fortifications in force. Defending those lines, despite a lack of ammunition, appeared the best alternative on a short list of bad options.

"Well, rifle is all clean. Too bad I’ve only got five shots."

She gave him a peck on the cheek. Trevor wondered if she welcomed the looming battle, despite the desperate odds. Perhaps she liked the idea of dying with her memories intact more than living without them.

Trevor shook such thoughts away. He could not afford daydreams of love, not when so much rode on the minutes ahead.

Brewer marched off to survey the west flank; Shep made for the eastern side. Reverend Johnny, in the meantime, approached Trevor. The big man carried his flamethrower.

"Blasted thing is out of fuel," it clanged as he threw it behind a tree. Before Trevor could react, Johnny produced a baseball bat. "But I have a back up plan, praise the Lord."

"Not bad, Rev," Nina smirked.

"On another topic, despite my dire predictions it appears that less than a dozen of our number slipped away in the darkness last night. I am sure the All Mighty will harshly judge their cowardice, but he has blessed the remainder of our ranks with the courage to stand fast."

"I fear, Rev, that most of our army has simply accepted defeat; they’re too tired to run."

They watched Stonewall maneuver through the woods on horseback. The thick tree roots presented stumbling blocks for horse hoofs and the low hanging branches swiped at his head.

Stonewall grunted in frustration, dismounted, tied the horse to a branch, and walked to the three. Trevor stood to great him.

The General in the confederate officer’s uniform came to perfect attention, saluted, and announced, "It is my unfortunate duty to inform you that the enemy is on the march. I have observed them descending their mountain toward the valley that separates our positions. No doubt they will be joining us shortly."

Trevor closed his eyes.

So this is it. This is where humanity makes its last stand.

Nina asked, "How many of them?"

"Hmm? Oh, well, all of them, my dear. Close to two hundred."

Nina sounded unduly optimistic as she noted, "Look, thanks to that pasting you gave them in the valley yesterday I figure they're hitting us with a lot less than they would have."

Stonewall appreciated the mention but saddened to say that, "While Miss Forest speaks the truth, I fear we may not have two hundred bullets among us."

Trevor's frustration surfaced. He turned and pounded a fist into a tree.

"Damn it. We were so close!"

Nina rubbed his shoulder and consoled, "You did everything you could."

"Indeed," Reverend Johnny shared the moment. "Our maneuver to rest the initiative from the aliens on all fronts gave us a prayer of hope."

Trevor thought about that decision. Stonewall had mentioned the battle of Gettysburg and how the Union army occupied the high ground on the first day. That move proved decisive. Unfortunately, not this time. This time…

His legs wobbled; his head spun.

Trevor closed his eyes and tasted the bitter scent of gunpowder fired more than a century before. He heard soldiers pleading for ammunition that would not come. He heard the battle cry of an enemy climbing a mountain one last time to finish a line of defenders who had survived wave after wave of previous attacks.

His legs steadied. His mind stopped spinning.

Trevor opened his eyes and faced his friends who eyed him suspiciously.

"Stonewall, tell me about Little Round Top."

"Pardon me, Sir? Did you say ‘Little Round Top’?"

"The second day at Gettysburg. Joshua Chamberlain and the 20 ^ th Maine were in a predicament similar to ours’. What did he do?"

After a moment of reflection, General McAllister smiled.

"They did something very foolish, Sir."

– Trevor called in the far-flung ranks of his lines, gathered his officers, and shared his plan. Most stood and listened vacantly. Trevor did not know if that vacancy came because they could not believe the audacity of his plan, or if they were too far gone to hear.

The plan did not take much explaining. It was simple. And brutal.

He finished and surveyed his troops.

Troops?

The sorry survivors formed a thick circle among the trees and makeshift fortifications. Shopkeepers and bus drivers and restaurant managers dressed in a hodgepodge of jeans and t-shirts, boots and tennis shoes, brandishing hunting rifles and pistols, clubs and knives. Even the professional soldiers left over from Prescott’s band no longer stood strong and confident.

"You must all understand it ends now. There is no retreat and if we stay here, we will be overwhelmed. There is only one alternative: forward. "

The collection of vacant eyes widened as if to suggest that while they had followed Trevor Stone so far, they might not be ready to follow him any further.

"I’d rather die with my hands on the enemy’s throat then cower behind a wall. I will show that enemy the face of his nightmares. He has come to my world and killed my people. He will see the FURY in my eyes."

A voice of despair cried out, "We have no more bullets!"

"Idon’t need bullets!"

Trevor’s bellow came from somewhere deep inside his person. The part, he figured, where the Old Man had found his killer.

"For thousands of years we have fought each other. For what? To prepare us for this day! The battlegrounds of Troy and Gallipoli; of Tarawa and Trafalgar; all to prepare us for now. The poets have written of our warlike nature for a reason: To be VICTORIOUS HERE."