Long before the legendary Empress Maiha Mana Nakatoma took her seat upon the Throne of the human Empire a greater legend was born. The legend of the man called Death, James J. Owens. A legend that grew to mythical proportions. Yet unlike most legends this one held more truth than fantasy. Especially the birth of that legend. A legendary birth in the middle of one battle, in the heart of just one planetary civil war.

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Private Rooms of Maiha Nakatoma, Ichirou Hoshi, Nakatoma Shogunate Compound, Hades

Dowager Empress Maiha Nakatoma looked down at the black mourning kimono Gin had dressed her this morning. The only spot of color anywhere on her kimono was the ruby red dragon that adorned her left breast. She turned to her aid. “When is the dropship Night Angel due to land, Finnea?”

The tall, beautiful Silvan Elf young woman bowed to Maiha before answering. “Not for another four hours, your Majesty. The Night Angel is currently on a hot burn for Hades Starport. She’ll touchdown in time. The Honor Guard have already assembled on the outer tarmac.”

“Thank you, Finnea. Has my wife arrived yet?” Maiha asked as she set her family swords inside the obi for her kimono at her left hip.

“She arrived twenty minutes ago ma’am. Kina is currently helping her dress.” Gin answered for Finnea. “She’ll be with you shortly.”

“Thank you, Gin.” Maiha sighed then gave her old Lady’s Maid a small smile. “Are you ready to retire yet old friend?”

“My Lady, how many times are you going to ask that nonsense question?” Gin asked with a mile-wide grin. “Until such time that I find a worthy replacement I will preform my duties to you and this household.”

“Give it up, kitten. She’s just as stubborn as you are.” Alice said from the doorway to their rooms. Like Maiha she too was dressed in an all-black mourning kimono. “Captain Yates just reported that the escort is ready.”

“The I guess we need to get a move on. Our heroes have waited long enough for their return home.” Maiha told her and led the way outside. The FT-4 Foxtrot hovercar that waited them was more armored troop transport than limousine. It may look like a luxury hovercar on the outside, but it could take a direct hit from a 110mm PPC like it was water from a hose.

As the Dowager Royal Couple traveled through the countryside Maiha’s thoughts were drawn to a dark time in her past. Alice had seen this happen before. Every time a Hero Flight landed at the Hades Starport. As much as Alice wanted the flights to stop, she knew they would continue. With each flight bringing home the mortal remains of Death Dealers she knew that Maiha would be there to welcome her brothers and sisters home. Every time one landed Maiha would take the day to stand silently on the Heroes Watch Overpass.

Yet Alice could tell that today’s Hero Flight bothered Maiha more than usual. She knew that she had to get Maiha out of her own head. In a voice just above a whisper so as to not spook Maiha she asked. “Kitten where are you at?”

Maiha never took her eyes off the window. She just staired out at the passing scenery. “The ridgeline of Rutha Heights.”

It took Alice a few seconds with her DDAI understand the reference. “The Holder Conclave War of Pern. You were there weren’t you?”

“We hit Pern with two full Cavalry divisions and a full battalion of Death Dealers. I was there from day one all the way to the day eleven days and eleven months later. The worse day of them all though was the nineth day of the eleventh month. The longest and bloodiest day of that stupid pointless fracking war. It was the day that James J. Owens became a legendary warrior called Death.” Maiha sighed as her words took her back to that bloody and terrifying day more than 113 years ago.

113 years before the Reign of Emperor James, Rutha Heights, Holder Conclave Wars, Pern System.

Sergeant James J. Owens stood next to his Lieutenant looking over the hastily dug trenchworks. The shattered remains of the last Armored Power Suit in their unit lay 478 meters down the slope of the ridge line. The T9 Vindicator was a light 35ton Scout class APS. The pilot was body bag filling. As were the rest of the 16th Regiment of the Queen’s Lancers APS Cavalry. Scattered across the Northern continent of Pern.

The only true heavy firepower left to the Death Dealers of the 578th Combined Peacekeepers Force was a mixed bag of 111 out-of-date field artillery pieces, and 34 tanks. There were 18 M56 Scorpions, 12 Sd.Kfz173 Jagdpanthers, 19 SU-85 AG, 21 M50 Ontos, and 30 FV-4401 Contentious. These weapons had been spread out along the 14 miles of ridgeline known to the locals as the Rutha Heights. The Mark V Panther tanks were being held back as a reactionary force against the Holder Conclave Federation Forces. To the men of the 578th CPF and 47th Death Dealers Battalion it was just Bloodbath Rutha.

“Sergeant Owens, has the battalion finished digging in?” Lieutenant Mark Starr asked James wearily.

“We’re dug in sir. The major wants to walk the line with you. The dick head said something about trying to lessen our exposure to enemy fire.” James wisecracked much to the Starr’s displeasure. Not really giving a frack about what his Lieutenant thought or felt James pulled out a pack of Black Eagle cigarettes. He offered one to his commanding officer before lighting one up for himself. “Look Lt. I know that you got to follow Major Nelson’s orders but he’s an APS pilot. Last time I looked we’re all out of Armor Power Suits. The same can be said for the rest of the PCF command.”

“I understand where you’re coming from Sergeant Owens. Hell, right now I would happily turn over command of our troops to you.” Starr grunted then took a heavy drag off his smoke. “Frack! Just look around Sergeant. Let’s be realistic about our situation. Out of the full battalion of six-hundred-and-fifty-five personnel we’re down to three-hundred-and-nine. Half of those are the gun crews for the M-fifty Ontoses. The only reason we have them is thanks to Lieutenant Colonel Kiel’s holding them back in reserve.”

“Yes sir, I know that, and so does every last serving member of our battalion. What we want to know is when are you going to tell those pompous frack nuts over at PCF command to let us do our jobs. You may be a First Lieutenant, but we’re getting tired of the amateurs.” James bitched. “Out of two full Cavalry Divisions the PCF is down to one Field Artillery Squadron, two full Battalions of tanks, and four Battalions of dismounted Infantry. Every last APS unit for the PCF and our own APS support Troop have been destroyed. There’s only one thing we got going for us. The Con-Feds don’t have any APSs left to throw at us as well. If they had just one lance of APSs left, they could wipe our asses out in a matter of minutes.”

“Tell me something I don’t know Sergeant Owens. As it is those lightweight flied pieces aren’t going to stop a determined assault.” Starr sighed as he looked over at the senior ranking Sergeant for the Death Dealers. “Sergeant if you have any suggestions don’t hold them back?”

“Fall back to the dropships then drop enough nukes to turn Pern into the biggest exporter of glass for the Empire.” James said with a straight face.

“If it had been up me, we would have glassed this fracking planet before ever setting foot on it Sergeant. Seeing as how we’re here now, and nuking the locals isn’t an option because of political reasons. Any other ideas?” Starr asked of James bluntly. “And I don’t fracking care if they’re condemned under the Wartime Accords or not.”

“Sir, are you sure you want to go there?” James asked the Lieutenant.

“It’s just you and me James you can drop the fracking sir horseshit. Damn it! I should be calling you sir. You’re the senior Death Dealer damn it! We both know that I only have these bars because I’m a damned Mustang that survived Robin Sage.” Starr bitched. “God damn it James! I was never meant to be commanding a battalion at my age.”

“Don’t feel like the Lone Stranger here Mike. I’m supposed to be in charge of damned Fireteam.” James waved his arm towards the trenchworks. “Not this.”

“Aren’t we a sorry damned bunch.” Michal Starr grunted. “When do you think the Con-Feds will make their final push?”

James pushed the sleeve of his BDU shirt up and looked at his watch. “In about six or seven-hours Mike. They’ll hit us with everything they have left. The situation is simple. We’re out gunned, outnumbered, and commanded by a cock bite who has all the brains of a tangerine ape.”

“You’re giving the major too much credit James, but you’re right about the rest. Those thirty-four tanks will be our only saving grace when they hit us.” Mike just shook his head in disgust. “That’s the only damned thing Nelson has done right this whole fracking campaign.”

The two men stood looking down the northern slop of the ridgeline at the 45-ton Mark-V Panthers. Both men knew that they would be little more than a stop gap in a real armor warfare battle. One where Armor Power Suits would be the deciding factor. With all APS units destroyed on both sides that had changed things. The Mark-Vs were now the heavy hitters on the battlefield. Though there was not enough of them to change the course of the war. The Con-Feds had 5 to 1 advantage in tanks. The Con-Fed tanks were also the new AI driven 65-ton KPz-70 Thor. The only thing going for the Mark-Vs was the crews. They could outthink the programing of the AIs.

“Tell me something James. You could have gone through Officers Basic Training Course at Sand Hurst when I did. Why didn’t you take your chance?” Mike asked his old platoon’s sniper. “You earn that right back on Cerberus.”

“The only way Command will get my ass anywhere near that fracking joint is by Royal fracking Command, Mike.” James chuckled as he took out another cigarette and lighting up. Taking a deep drag James looked down the front slope. “Besides, we both know that the High Families would sooner shit on their lace doylies than let someone like me wear the rank of an officer.”

“Damn it James. When are you going to let that backwater home world attitude of yours go? You’re a Death Dealer, and one of the best. I mean come on brother. You won the Distinguished Service Cross, Distinguished Service Order, Bronze and Silver Starburst both with Oakleaves for valor, and the Purple Heart on Cerberus. You’re one of the most highly decorated men in the Military. Nobody cares where you were born.” Mike told his old friend.

“Yes, they do Mike. You should know that. If you don’t then you’re a bigger dumb ass than Nelson.” James said before he took a drag off his cigarette. Blowing out the smoke James decided it was time to give Michal Starr a lesson in the ways of the universe. “Look Mike. You were born to one of the better High Families. Your family doesn’t look down on the common people. Yet I can bet you a thousand creds that your parents won’t let me within ten AUs of your ancestral home on Thebbadus. Every last citizen of the Empire knows of the street rat from Apollo six that survived to become a hero.”

“James, my parents don’t care if you’re some High Family pure breed. Nobody that matters really cares about that kind of shit. Especially among the Death Dealers.” Mike countered knowing that he was speaking the truth.

“Mike there are times when I want to pound you over the head with a two-by-four.” James sighed. “This is one of those times. You don’t see it because you’re one of the elites. Just like those frackers we’re fighting. The only deference between you and them is like I said earlier. You’re one of the good ones. Your family doesn’t screw over the people that work for you. Your family actually cares if they live above poverty levels.” James pointed out across the valley floor.

“Those pieces of shit over there are just like the majority of High Families. Only their soldiers get treated with any kind of decency, and that’s only to buy their loyalty. Like so many of the rich and powerful they had their House troops put down any form of resistance to their rule. Usually with the most brutal ways possible.” James dropped his cigarette on the ground and crushed it out with his bootheel. “That brutality was enough in this case to cause the civilians of this world to raise up in revolt.”

“A revolt that has become so bloody that the Emperor was forced to get the Empyreal Military involved to end this Civil War.” Mike finished for James. Mike sighed as he crushed the last of his own cigarette out. “You’re right James. There are times when I forget that some High Families only take from those they’re sworn to protect and give nothing back.”

“Excuse me sir. The Major wants to see you in the TOC.” A runner said as he approached the last two surviving members in the Death Dealer Chain of Command. The distaste for Major Nelson was clear as the night sky in the privet’s voice for both to hear. “He said something about wanting to shift the tanks to the frontline battle positions.”

“DAMN! Is he trying to get us wiped out?” James snarled as he cracked his knuckles. “Lt. If you don’t put that frack stick in his place this time. I damned sure will.”

“He won’t be the only one sir. More than half the TOC Staff is talking about fragging his and the rest of those PCF command staff assholes.” The private said bluntly. “Sir you need to know that it’s not just the Death Dealers talking, but the Regular PCF troops as well.”

“Sparks just how bad is it among the regular PCF troops?” James asked.

“Let’s just say that it would have already happened if not for us, Top.” Sparks said bluntly as James flinched as the use of the traditional nickname for First Sergeants. The problem that James faced just then was simple. He had time in grade and rank on every living Death Dealer Sergeant. He was the Top Sergeant for the battalion. Sparks looked over at Starr. “Sir, Top, you need to know something else. You’re not going to like it.”

“What did you find out Sparks?” James asked.

“Nelson was the one to give the order to abandon First Tank during the fighting in Dragon Valley.” Sparks kept his voice low, so the surrounding Death Dealers won’t hear him give his report to their Commanding Officer. After 11 months and 9 days the beleaguered members of the PCF were stretched to their limits. One of the greatest stressors had come during the 2nd month when the 1st of 72nd Armored Battalion had been wiped out in the Battle for Dragon Valley. The Con-Feds had thrown six battalions of T-68 AI tanks at the 72nd. At 8 to 1 odds the 72nd never stood a chance. “And sir. He was also the one to give the order for Second Tank to stand down.”

“That’s it. He’s a dead man walking.” James snarled as he grabbed his Hellsing Arms .408 cal. sniper rifle. Racking the bolt James turned towards the TOC.

“Hold it Top.” Mike ordered James before he took more than three steps. “As much as you want to kill the man. I can’t allow it.”

“Then I suggest that you get a fracking hold on the situation Lieutenant.” James snarled. “By taking fracking command.”

“Understood Sergeant.” Mike said as he walked past him towards the TOC. “I’ll end this problem today.”

James stopped his friend. “You better Mike. Before the troops take the option away from us. Because like it or not if they find about what Nelson pulled.”

“No need to say it, James. I already know.” Mike Starr said as he continued walking towards the Tactical Operations Center.

“Um… Top is the Lt. really going to frag old needle dick?” Sparks asked James bluntly while chuckling.

“Sparks, if the Lt. knows what’s good for the unit. He’ll frag the whole damned command staff for the PCF.” James answered as he sighted his rifle’s scope in on the TOC. “Because he knows that I will.”

“Damn Top. You got a real hard-on hate for the major and his staff.” Sparks chuckled as he watched the man that currently held the highest kill count for snipers in all of the Death Dealers. “There’s a ten mile east to west cross wind down at the TOC Top. The range is just over fourteen-hundred meters with downward angle of eight degrees.”

“It’s fourteen-hundred-and-seventy-five meters, with a downward angle of twelve degrees, Sparks. If you’re going to act as my spotter use the damned Winchester Advanced Ballistic Computer, and Laser Range Finder.” James ordered Sparks as he point towards the two electronic devices. When Sparks had the laser range finder to his eyes James began to give him a field expedient class on the Spotter’s position.

“Lesson one Sparks. The relationship between a sniper and his spotter is very important. First and foremost, the two depend on each other for survival. Sniper teams normally work in the no-man's-land between or behind battle lines. We often have little or no support from our units, and if we don't accomplish our mission, the safety of the whole platoon may be compromised. In short you cover my ass as I cover your ass. Got that?” James said as he adjusted his sights on the scope.

“Got it Top.” Sparks said with true earnestness. To be trained by someone like Sergeant James J. Owens was a once in a lifetime chance. One he wasn’t going to pass up on. “What’s next Top?”

“The spotter’s position in a sniper team is as a sniper’s apprentice. Snipers are always the team leader. Snipers coordinate with command and put together the mission. In the field, the sniper has the final word in determining the route, position, rendezvous point and escape route. A spotter learns in the field from his sniper. Today that asshole is me.” James told a very surprised Sparks. “So fracking pay attention, learn what I have to teach you, and you just might survive this hellhole. One day you might have your own team.”

“Got it Top.” Sparks said as he focused his LRF lenses on the TOC’s door. He hit the button to fire the laser. The range came back at 1478 meters. “Range is one-thousand-four-hundred-seventy-eight meters. Plus, sixteen minutes. Looking for something to gage the wind.”

“Just to the left of the TOC. The FAV with the blue command pennant. Good job so far Sparks. Use the ABC to figure out the windage.” James said.

Sparks used the laser on the pennant when the return came back, he entered the crosswind reading and the range into the Advanced Ballistic Computer. “Okay Sarge. I have a three-minute hold with right ascension. Now what do I do? Enter the air temp?”

“Got it in one Sparks.” James said as he leaned back from his scope. “If this was an actual fire mission. We won’t be firing from here. Can you tell me why or do you need me to tell you?”

Sparks looked over the backside of the trenchworks and then at their current position. They had a good hide position with plenty of protective coverage. Their line of sight wasn’t obstructed. It was prefect. “Um… Sarge I don’t see why we won’t fire from here.”

“Because what makes so prefect makes it a target for artillery. Every last soldier looks for these areas. Forward Observers for artillery units love these kinds of hides. The main reason is they provide excellent coverage, and a clear line of sight. A sniper’s greatest asset is the ability vanish into the background. When choosing a sniper’s nest, you need to take in more than just line of sight and field of fire. Concealment is our greatest tool.” James explained for the private. “This ends your first lesson as a spotter, Sparks. Go get some chow and sleep, Sparks.”

“Yes, Top. Thanks for the training.” Sparks said as he walked away.

Once he was alone James Owens picked up the LRF Field Glasses. He turned towards the front slope and began to scan the far edge of the battlefield. “Just over three-quarters of a mile to the far tree line. Gods they’d have to be stupid to attack across that with nothing more than tanks and infantry. Not when any reasonably intelligent commander would have every inch covered by enter locking fields of artillery fire.”

James set the LRF down and pulled out his tactical map for the area. He slowly traced their trenchworks with his finger. “Dee De got a second?”

‘For you James I always have a second. What’s troubling you this time?’

“Is it just me or does the way our trenchworks hook around remind you of something?” James asked his Death Dealer AI.

‘Just one of the bloodiest battles in Earth Prime’s history. The trenchworks do resemble the Federal troops’ final positions at Gettysburg, Pennsylvania. Especially with the way they curve around at the northern end like a hook.’

“Yup. That’s what I thought. Only two things missing from this battlefield. The picket fence on each side of the roadway and the rock wall. If we had those, we would have the perfect spot for reenactment of that famous battle.” James said as he ran his finger along the roadway. “Not that it will matter. That roadbed is three meters below ground level with a sixty-degree downslope angle on each side. A natural antitank ditch. One that is wide enough to slow down or even stop their armor forces.”

‘We even the ‘high ground’ that we hold is a ridgeline ending with two small hills to the south. The situation is almost a true reenactment with modern weapons. On one side an army for an agrarian based society on the other an army for an industrial based society. The might of the Federal Government holds the high ground both figuratively and morally. On the other side of the battlefield a Secessionist Government that wishes to cling to an outdated and immoral way of governing.’

“And once again history will repeat itself. Dee De when they were programing you did your programmers install a sense of irony?” James asked bluntly.

‘No, but I was programed to learn from my host. In the last few years, I have found that you have a true appreciation for history James. Not just battlefield tactics, but the influencing factors for both the battles and the wars in which they were fought. To meet that appreciation of yours I have downloaded and studied more than nine thousand historically important battles and the relevant wars. This war between the two political factions of Pern closely resembles the Bosnian War of twentieth century.’

“Especially with the ethnic cleansing horseshit. When will people learn that we all bleed red when cut.” James spat out. James pulled a stainless flask from his cargo pants’ pocket. After taking a drink from the flask James sighed. “Damn that’s good hooch.”

James checked his wristwatch before taking a second drink from his flask. Looking back down at the map James realizes that there is one massive weak point in their defense. Problem was there was nothing they could do to really fix the problem. “If the Con-Feds hit us from the south with enough force they’ll fold that end over like an Aztec torta.”

‘James, I have to ask. What is this obsession you have with food? Whenever you’re faced with a problem you make comparisons to food.’

“Sorry about that, Dee De. It’s something I never got over from my childhood. Hard or difficult times always equaled hunger on Apollo six.” James chuckled. The more he studied the southern end of their lines on the map. The more James realized that he needed to see the trenchworks firsthand. “No use just standing here looking down at a map. I need to get eyes on the problem.”

James folded the map and put it in his cargo pocket. A half hour later he was walking the hastily dug out artillery emplacement. The emplacement was 8 feet deep, 35 feet across, the walls were reenforced with sandbags. At the 7, 8, 10, and 11 o’clock positions were crew served MG-75 15mm Gatlin lasers. At the 9 o’clock position sat a KR-9 30mm Vulcan antiaircraft 8-barrel Gatlin cannon. In the center of the emplacement was one of the M-50 Ontos. James looked at the 17 men that were charged with defending this end of the line. James didn’t like what he was seeing and walked the outer wall. At first, he couldn’t figure out what was bugging him. It wasn’t until he climbed out of the emplacement that James was able to figure out what was bothering him.

James walked over to the radio operator. Looking down at the Lance Corporal. “Send the following to Command. Shift four sniper teams to this location. Inform Command that I have taken command of this position. That is all.”

“On it Top. Another other instructions?” The Lance Corporal asked.

“Not at this time Corporal.” James said as he looked around the artillery emplacement. “Where are the rest of the troops bunking down?”

“Take that back trench over there Top. We got four GP mediums setup in a box cutout fifteen yards back. The rest of the guys are trying to get some shuteye right now. We’re running one up one down, Top.” The Corporal said as he looked James up and down. “You’ll forgive me for asking Top. When was the last time you and the Lt. got any sleep?”

“Three days ago.” James answered then yawned. “I think. Might be longer.”

“Then I suggest you get what you can Top.” The Corporal looked at his watch. “The TOC sent word just before you showed that the Con-Feds will hit sometime after sunup. That is in about five hours.”

James just grunted then waved to the Corporal before heading for the tent. He took the first open cot. He was asleep the second his head hit the canvas. As usual when a combat zone James woke after just three hours of sleep. Normally he would just rollover and go back to sleep until he was called for duty. But sleep was eluding him this morning. Giving up on the idea of sleep James left the tent he was currently sharing with three other Death Dealers.

Instead of heading back to the emplacement he walked the backside of the trenchworks. He couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was walking next to him. “So, what do I call you?”

“You could call me Thanatos, the Grim Reaper, Anubis, but most just call me Death, the Fourth Horseman.” The feeling answered James.

“Okay now I know I’ve gone nuts. I’m walking and talking with Death.” James quipped. “Maybe I should just shoot you now and save myself the heartburn later. I mean isn’t that how the legends go. You kill Death you live forever.”

“Only in certain beliefs, young Death Dealer. In others if you can kill Death you become the next Death. Forever cursed to walk the face of earth collecting the souls of the newly dead. Though you would be hard pressed to kill me. I am after all nothing more than a figment of your imagination.”

“Then you’ll be that much easier to kill. Be sure to stand in the center of the Con-Feds formations as you march up to my position. I’ll save a special round just for you. Why I’ll even put your name on it, so it doesn’t get lost and hit some poor underserving asshole.” James snarked as he passed a roving sentry for the 578th Peacekeepers.

“Excuse me Sergeant but who are you talking to?” The Sentry asked James.

“Just the man I plan to kill today.” James wisecracked.

“Who is that Sergeant?” The Sentry asked with real honesty.

“I plan to kill Death himself.” James said bluntly. Then walked on as the Sentry chuckled at the seemingly impossible. For the next hour James continued his walk and talk with Death. James knew that he was only talking with himself, but the conversation calmed his nerves. By the time he had worked his way back to his new battle position at the artillery emplacement the sun had been up for more than four hours. The four additional sniper teams he had requested were hard at work setting up their fields of fire.

He went to each team giving them all their orders of battle. Even the spotters were shocked when he told them that their mission was to engage every NCO and Officer in the enemy formations. At the MG-75s his orders were simple. Fire until the barrels metaled, or they had no more targets. Of all the gun crews only the crew for the KR-9 was surprised at his orders. Their weapon wasn’t meant to be used against Personnel. It was an antiaircraft weapon. To use their heavy weapon against troops in the open could be considered a war crime. James just asked them if they wanted to live then walked onto the Ontos and its crew. There he gave them their orders to hold their fire until the Con-Feds crossed the streambed 2000m from their position.

The battle that afternoon would become known as the Battle for Rutha Heights. It was on a nowhere backwater planet called Pern. When the forces for the Con-Feds showed themselves, it was just after high noon local time. They came charging across the valley floor to hit the main lines with 10 battalions of Battle Armor Infantry. The heavy artillery of the Death Dealers ripped massive holes int their formations. The heavy machineguns reached out to cutdown the massive 8ft tall Armored figures like wheat before a harvester.

Thirty minutes after the attack on the main trenchworks James’ position saw their first enemy troops. From James emplacement it was the M-50 Ontos to first engage the enemy. From the center of their battle position as it fired all six of its recoilless 120mm rifles out over the main line of battle. Those six rounds would fall among the Con-Fed battle armor with devasting results. The air burst shells would leave behind nothing but shredded bodies and blood-soaked ground.

The snipers were the next ones to engage the enemy. Every sniper lived up to their credo of One Shot One Kill that day. The gun crews of the MG-75s sprayed down the valley floor with a wall of light and death. The men of James’ unit must have sent several hundreds of them to meet their ancestors. The real killers for their position would be the guns of the anti-aircraft team as they turn their fire on the battlefield. The Con-Feds still continued to push their attack. They just wouldn’t break.

All that changed when Sparks acting as James’ spotter was killed by a stray round from an enemy light machinegun. In his rage James charged out over the top of the artillery emplacement straight at them. The sight of this skinny assed kid charging these 8ft tall monsters with nothing more than a pulse rifle just firing away was pure insanity. The Con-Feds dropped everything but the kitchen sink on James and he just kept coming. When they finally broke, James was within 10 meters of their lines. When all was said and done. The Death Dealers had won the day and held their position.

During the AAR, a captain for the 578th asked who led the charge on the enemy position everyone pointed at James. He said he was putting James in for the Blue Max and then walked away. That night at chow time the chowhall staff were issuing out glasses of homebrewed beer. The sentry that had stopped him during his early morning walk saw James step into the chowhall. He stood up and yield out holding up his glass. “Here’s to the man who killed Death. Raise your glasses to the New Death. Long may he reign!”

Following the battle for Rutha Heights the last surviving members of the Con-Fed High Command sued for peace. In the 11th hour on the 11th day of the 11th month on Pern peace return to the beleaguered planet’s citizens. It would be another 20 years before the scars of battle were no longer visible to the naked eye. Yet, a legend was born on that last day of battle. One that would be as ingrained in the history of Pern as it was in the history of the Death Dealers. The legend of James J Owens, the man called Death.

Overpass 32, Empress's Highway 416, Hades: present day

Maiha finished her story as the hovercar pulled to a stop in the center of the overpass known to the looks as Heroes’ Watch. Their APS escort took up positions at each end of the overpass. As they exited the hovercar their personnel bodyguards moved to surround them. Maiha ignored the twenty-two-man platoon as she moved to the railing. She held in her hands a basket of red poppy flowers. She stood stock still as the cold winds of November whipped about her. Pulling at the silk of her kimono.

“Maiha you don’t have to do this today. They’ll understand and forgive you for taking this day for yourself.” Alice whispered. “I can do this for you.”

“No Alice this is my duty. I may have walked away from the throne, but I will never walk away from my duties.” Maiha answered with a heavy sigh. “I will never walk away from my promise to them.”

“I know love. I had to offer.” Alice pointed towards the raise in the highway below them. A small convoy of black hearses was rolling towards them in a steady respectful pace. “Here they come.”

The Captain for the Royal Bodyguards called out. “ATTENTION! PRESENT ARMS!”

As one the Royal bodyguard unit snapped to attention and rendered a salute. Even the massive war machines know as Armored Power Suits raised their right arms in salute to the passing convoy. At the railing Empress Maiha just stood quietly dropping handfuls of red poppies as the convoy passed beneath the overpass. “Welcome home, Heroes. The first rounds at Fiddler’s Green are on me lads. Drink hardy knowing that you may be gone but you are not forgotten.”

“Yes love. They are never forgotten. You made sure that they will always have a place to be remembered and to call their own.” As the last hearse passed beneath them Maiha dropped the last poppies. Alice took her wife of close to forty years in her arms. Standing tall Alice called out before the Bodyguard Captain had a chance. “Order, ARMS!”

As one the Royal escort dropped their salute. Alice turned Maiha back towards the hovercar. “Come on love. I’ll buy the first rounds at bunker thirteen.”

As the Royal escort left Heroes’ Watch the four RV-4R Ravagers sprinted ahead to take up positions blocking traffic for the funeral convoy. Each APS stood at attention with their right arms raised in salute as the convoy passed. The four APS pilots continued block traffic for the convoy all the way to Fiddler’s Green. Where all four formed up one last time as the hearses passed through the gate to the cemetery. Maiha had the driver of her hovercar follow the hearses all the way until they reached the gates of Fiddler’s Green. There she order the young woman to take them home to the Nakatoma estate.

Maiha and Alice didn’t bother with returning to their rooms to change. Instead they headed for the House Military’s practice range and the bar known simply as bunker 13. The moment the two women stepped through the door every member of the Nakatoma Household Military snapped to attention and waited. They all knew why their Head of House and Dowager Empress was here. The bartender set two special steins filled with beer in front of them.

Maiha picked hers up and turned to the gather soldiers. She raised her stein and called out as best she could. She paused only long enough to wipe the tears from her cheeks. “TO OUR FALLEN! GONE BUT NOT FORGOTTEN!”

As one the House troops raised their own steins and called out before downing the beer. “TO OUR FALLEN! GONE BUT NOT FORGOTTEN!”

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On this day of remembrance raise a cold glass of beer for those of have given their all. GONE BUT NOT FORGOTTEN!