Legacy earth, p.25
Legacy Earth, page 25
The Major General raised his eyebrows and stepped back before turning a frigid glare toward Jackson.
“Do you accept this challenge for the title of champion?” he asked.
Jackson pulled his uniform shirt off, revealing a white undershirt beneath as he slid his hands into a pair of gloves.
“I accept,” Jackson said while climbing into the ring.
Leon waved the ref back in. Stepping in, he summoned both fighters to the center. Jackson lifted his gloves for Lance to touch with. The cadet left his arms at his sides. His heart pounded so hard, it shook his body as he glared at his superior officer.
“You should know, in the ring, we’re equal,” Jackson said with a hint of warning in his voice.
“I’m counting on it,” Lance snarled, speaking over the ref.
As the bell rang, the ref jumped back. Jackson immediately went for a jab. Lance countered by hitting his opponent’s glove slightly off center, making the Chief Master Sergeants wrist twist to the side.
He went for another jab. Lance dodged to the side and slammed a fist into Jackson’s ribs just under his armpit. His opponent staggered back from the blow. Shock filled his face at the power behind the punch.
“Come on, you’re telling me he didn’t tell you we’re fourth generation boxers?” Lance asked as he jabbed at Jackson a few more times.
Jackson took one of the jabs on the cheek but blocked the others with the iron wall of his forearms.
“I wasn’t privy to that,” Jackson replied before jabbing with his left and punching low with his right.
Lance held his arms up and took the first hit to his forearms. The second slammed into his gut. A numbing, burning pain radiated from both impact sites. The cadet’s fingers tingled from the nerve damage and his gut ached like he hadn’t eaten for a week. His fiery rage allowed him to push the pain out of his mind after the initial blow.
Lunging forward, Lance threw two haymakers followed by an uppercut. His first two blows hit Jackson’s forearms as anticipated. The third made its way under and connected with his opponent’s chin.
The impact sent tingling shockwaves through the cadet’s hand and down his arm. Jackson staggered back and lowered his arms. Throwing all his momentum behind his punch, he landed his glove square into his commanding officer’s face.
Lance stepped back, as that was the hardest punch he’d thrown yet. A sense of joy overcame him as Jackson staggered against the ropes, blood pouring from his nose. That joy evaporated as quickly as it’d come. The Chief Master Sergeant caught his footing, stood tall, and wiped the blood onto his forearm before looking at it.
“That was a little dirty,” he muttered as the first bell rang.
Both fighters went to their corners. Several men helped get Jackson’s bloody nose under control as Lance took a small drink of water. He shook out his arms, getting full sensation back in them before the round two bell rang. Turning back to the ring, he was greeted by Jackson’s glove.
BAM!
Black and white spots filled Lance’s vision as his head snapped to one side. His ears rang as the world darkened. He told his body to fight back, but instead he dropped to his knees. Sweat trickled down his back and brow in the warm morning sun. His muscles ached from throwing everything he had into those few punches while taking hits that felt like a truck running him over.
In his dazed state, he saw Jackson throw his fists up and bounce around the ring. The joy on his face stoked the fires within him once more, pulling him from the brink of unconsciousness.
“You don’t deserve to win,” Lance mumbled as he forced his brain to focus.
Jackson stopped celebrating and walked over to Lance, leaning over he rested his gloves on his knees.
“What was that?” Jackson asked with a gloating demeanor.
“I said,” Lance huffed as he caught his breath. “You don’t deserve to WIN!”
The cadet threw his entire body weight forward, swinging another powerful uppercut into Jackson’s exposed chin. A burst of adrenaline surged through Lance as his focus locked on to his target.
His body was spent. He could already feel it. Jackson’s strength was superior, on par with an Olympic-level athlete. Something a mere late teen couldn’t stand up to for long. He saw his chance, his one chance to win the fight, and that was until his adrenaline wore out.
Lance threw caution to the wind. He kept Jackson on his back foot as he pounded his opponent’s face. The cadet released every bit of rage he’d felt over the past four years into brick-shattering punches.
“YOU DON’T,” BAM! “DESERVE,” BAM! “TO WIN!” BAM!
Lance roared, delivering three powerful blows to Jackson’s face.
“YOU’RE A COWARD WHO LEFT YOUR MEN, LEFT HIM TO DIE!” he continued to scream as a rage unlike anything he’d felt flowed through him.
Lance’s vision turned red as he threw a barrage of fists into Jackson’s head. His opponent landed a few powerful hits against the cadet’s face. The anger that he’d held back for years prevented him from registering the blows as he put every ounce of body weight behind each punch of his own.
“YOU DESERVED TO BE LEFT BEHIND, NOT HIM!” he continued to roar as Jackson dropped to a knee, succumbing to Lance’s blows.
“I didn’t want Lincoln to die, he was like my brother too,” Jackson managed to squeeze out between being struck.
Lance hooked his left arm under Jackson’s arm pit and stood the officer up.
“YOU DON’T GET TO SAY HIS NAME!” Lance roared as he reared back for another blow.
His arm stopped before it had a chance to fly. Turning his head, the cadet was shocked to see the face of his father as the one stopping his barrage.
“Know when your enemy’s beaten,” he said in a soothing tone.
Lance relaxed both his arms as Jackson fell unconscious and bloodied to the mat. Chakwas rushed in, as did the ref to check on the Chief Master Sergeant. Leon raised his son’s bloody glove into the air while declaring him the boxing champion.
With the fight at its end, Lance’s adrenaline subsided. Its effects wearing off made the cadet groan. His face ached, pulsed, and felt hot. His body burned from exhaustion and the damage it’d taken.
Leon lowered Lance’s arm. The cadet staggered back with the strength leaving his legs. The world spun around him, growing dark with each passing second. Lance fell to his knees to the gasp of the crowd. The mat rapidly overtook his vision before everything went black. He never felt the impact.
Thirty-Three
Hospital Dinner Date
Beep, beep, beep, beep.
The steady noise of a heart monitor coaxed Lance back to consciousness. His head throbbed as deep, sharp pains bored through his skull like a drill. Slightly opening his eyes, he let out a groan as the pale hospital lights were blinding. They caused another flare-up of dull pain at the back of his eyes.
“Hey, you’re awake!” Amber said.
Her voice sounded like it was a mile away and under water. Lance fought the pain from the light and forced his eyes open to see the nurse standing by his side in a form fitting sundress.
“How are you feeling?” she asked as she leaned against the bed and pressed a button.
Her actions caused the bed to sit up slightly. Lance lifted his hand and touched his face. Needles coursed throughout his skin at the point of contact.
“Like a cracked walnut,” Lance muttered.
His blurred vision gradually focused. An I.V. was stuck into the top of his hand slow-dripping him liquids. A port protruded from the middle of his bare chest. Its tube carried a light blue liquid from a bag hanging next to his IV.
“I’m not surprised,” Amber said while pulling up a chair and sitting by his side. “You took a few good punches from someone with a class C. Theta CRISPR shot.”
Lance’s brow furrowed at the gibberish she’d just said. In that second, he saw the medical side of her turn on. Amber leaned forward and took his hand in both of hers as a smile of fascination overtook her flawless features.
“Jackson was a second generation CRISPR soldier,” she explained. “The shot he received upon graduation increased his physical attributes, increased his strength, reaction time, and stamina to that of an Olympic-level athlete. It even granted him limited control of his adrenal system. AND it was class C, so he’s one step below a nano-tech cyborg at this point.”
“Then I’m lucky he didn’t land any solid blows,” Lance replied as he closed his eyes to alleviate some of the pain from the lights. “I’m assuming I have a concussion; otherwise, I doubt I’d be hooked up to the stem cells.”
“You do, as well as a fractured cheekbone, BUT you should be fit enough to return to duties in full by Wednesday,” Amber replied. “And if you’ll give me one second, there are a few people who want to see you now that you’re awake.”
Amber got up, walked to the door, and leaned out before waving those outside in. As she returned to her seat, Foltur, carrying a bag, his dad, and Jackson entered the room. The Chief Master Sergeant’s face was swollen almost beyond recognition. Even with his dark complexion, his bruising was severe.
“Sirs,” Lance said as he raised his arm to salute.
All three saluted him back. Leon stepped forward and held out a silver coin. Lance took the piece of metal. Pride swelled within his chest as he looked at its familiar design yet still sporting its vibrant colors. He spun the cool token in his fingers before placing it on his chest.
“Thank you, sir,” he said softly.
“You earned it,” his father replied.
Lance slid his non-hooked-up hand under the blanket to feel for his pocket. He was only sporting a hospital gown. Looking around the room, he saw his fatigues folded nicely in the corner.
“Can you grab those for me?” he asked.
Leon retrieved his son’s pants and handed them to the cadet. The young man rifled through the pants until he felt a round, solid object. Sliding his hand in the pocket, Lance pulled out the weathered coin he’d kept on him for years.
The cadet paused. An ache settled in his chest as he looked at the aged coin, twin to the one just presented to him. His eyes burned as tears welled up in them. Turning to his dad, he extended his hand, offering the object to his father.
“Lincoln gave this to me before he was deployed,” Lance said, his voice trembling as he spoke. Pausing, he took a deep breath to regain control. “I’ve kept it on me every day since he left. Now that I have my own, I know he’d want you to have it.”
Leon paused at the sight of his eldest son’s coin. A silent tear rolled down his cheek as he took the token and gripped it tightly in his hand.
“Thank you,” he whispered before stiffening himself back up. “I’m proud to see you’ve won, son. Lincoln would be proud too. I’ve also come to tell you I’ve been assigned to the Manifest Destiny and leave tonight. I’ll let you know when I arrive on ship.”
Lance gave his father a nod. The Major General exited the room as Foltur stepped up and scoffed at the bruised cadet.
“Boy, I should charge you with negligence of military property,” Foltur sneered.
“Actually, you can’t,” Amber replied before Lance could defend himself. “As he’s yet to graduate, he’s protected by the Cadet Policy, which dictates they aren’t considered property of the military until they hand you their Marine Corp coins.”
Foltur paused. He shot a frigid stare at the nurse who just beamed with pride. Lance couldn’t hold back a chuckle, which caused every part of his body to ache. He groaned and lay back in the bed.
“We all knew this was a risk when I signed up for the tournament,” Lance said. “I do apologize I took a cavalier approach to the championship by challenging a much stronger opponent.”
Foltur paused. He looked at Jackson’s bruised face before scoffing and shaking his head.
“No need to apologize, cadet,” Foltur said. “You took on a stronger and faster opponent and beat the ever-loving daylight out of him. You’ve got yourself quite a pair and you’ll be an asset when you graduate.”
The drill instructor pulled his books out of the bag and set them on the bed.
“Your class will be going through the chapters on survival and evasion training,” Foltur said as he tapped the books. “While you’re stuck in here, I’d focus on the chapters that highlight what’s edible, how to build a shelter, and the best ways to avoid detection.”
“Yes drill sergeant,” Lance replied, giving his DI a salute.
Foltur saluted him back before leaving the room. Jackson stepped to the foot of Lance’s bed. Even through the extremes of his swollen features, the cadet picked up on what looked like sorrow.
“I didn’t hold back,” he said softly. “I thought that if I faced you, if I beat you, then it’d give me an opportunity to speak my peace, so I didn’t hold back.”
Lance glared at the Chief Master Sergeant. His heart rate monitor started beeping faster as a warning hum left the machine for high blood pressure. Amber’s hand touched his. The mounting anger within him lessened. His heart slowed and the B.P. warning hum vanished.
“I should’ve known I couldn’t beat you. I’ve seen first-hand what the Warder rage is capable of. I didn’t leave your brother intentionally,” Jackson said in a hushed tone. “This is classified. I could get discharged just for telling you this, but the real story is our mission was to get encrypted Reeve technology. The kind that would change how our society functions altogether. Quantum communication, nanotechnology, even the new space and body suits, all from the data we retrieved.”
“Sir, no offense, but I’d get to the point,” Amber said quietly as if she could read Lance’s mind.
“We got the data, we were on our way out, and we ran into heavy resistance,” Jackson said as he bit his cheek and shook his head. “There were Reeves unlike anything we’d seen before. We punched through, but they were waiting to ambush the ship when we arrived. The entire squad would’ve been lost if not for your brother. Out of ammo and armor shredded, he let that Warder rage take over him over. I’ve never seen a person rip apart Reeves with their bare hands like that before, or since. He bought us the time we needed to complete our mission.”
The explanation calmed the cadet somewhat. His heart screamed for him to climb out of the bed and continue ripping Jackson apart. His mind reasoned that they were soldiers and just trying to complete their mission. The young man felt like he was being torn in two, between his nature and reason.
“I understand,” he finally said after several moments of pausing. “Now would you kindly leave.”
Jackson nodded and without a word left the room. He stopped at the doorway and looked back over his shoulder.
“He was my best friend,” Jackson said. “Like a brother to me. If I could’ve taken his place, I would’ve.”
With that, the Chief Master Sergeant left the room, closing the door behind him. Lance looked at Amber, whose face was rife with concern. He gently brushed a few strands of hair from her face.
“So, what color Jell-O are we having for our dinner date?” he asked, lightening Amber’s mood.
“Well, the kitchen said they’ve got clear, and clear,” she replied, leaning against his bedside.
“Ah, water-flavored,” he jested. “My favorite.”
A nurse walked in. She rolled a cart with three food coverings and a TV tray. She placed the tray on Lance’s lap before putting the other two covered plates on a small rolling table in the corner. Amber pulled the table to her chair and locked the wheels in place.
Lance pulled the plastic dome off his food to be greeted by a warm puff of steam. The sweet scent of seared steak filled his nostrils accompanied by fresh vegetables. As the cloud cleared, his mouth watered.
On his plate sat steamed broccoli with a juicy sirloin and the most decadent-looking mashed potatoes he’d seen in his life. He licked his lips as he picked up the fork and knife on either side of his meal.
“Ah-ah!” Amber said, stopping him. “You haven’t seen the whole meal yet!”
She lifted the smaller covering to reveal two little bowls filled with clear gelatin inside. The cadet sighed, shook his head, and chuckled.
“I thought you were joking,” he said, leaning forward to look at the dessert.
“There are few things I take very seriously in my life. Medicine and dessert,” Amber replied. “And not always in that order.”
“Well, I appreciate your candor,” Lance said before taking the first cut of his steak.
As he bit into it, the juices of the meat washed over his tongue. Endorphins washed over his brain, numbing his pain even better than the pain killers. He leaned back in the bed and let out a groan.
“This is the best piece of food I’ve ever had!” he exclaimed before cutting another piece.
“No it’s not,” Amber replied with a cheek full of steak. “You’re just so used to the slop they serve you at the mess hall.”
“If more people knew about the food in here, they’d intentionally injure themselves to get it,” Lance said while chewing on another slice.
“This isn’t what the hospital usually serves,” Amber replied. “I have a contact in the kitchen. The clear Jell-O is what they serve.”
“Well, thank you to your contact,” Lance said before moving on to the mashed potatoes.
They both spent the next few minutes enjoying their food while comparing the military served meals and the civilian served. Deducing Amber got the better deal when it came to eating, they finished their meals. The clear gelatin held the slightest hint of lemon while largely carrying no real flavor.
After they finished their meal, Amber placed the dishes on her rolling table and put it back into the corner. Over what felt like half an hour they talked, joked, and laughed, sharing stories about their childhoods, spoke of siblings and where they’d come from, as well as dreams of the future.
A delicate chime rang through the hospital, catching Amber off guard. It was already one A.M. To Lance’s surprise, they’d been talking for hours. With visitation over, she gave him a kiss, told him she’d check in on him later, and emphasized rest before leaving the room. Lance grabbed his book, leaning back in his bed. He couldn’t sleep. His mind swam with the joy of their date, even if it was inside the hospital. Flipping through his book, the cadet started studying. He continued until exhaustion finally set in and he fell asleep.
