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Thaddeus Duke · (04-20-2022)

Near Death Valley || Eastern California || 1037 Hours

The thing about war and battle is that it’s glorified in movies and on television in general. Soldiers are celebrated as heroes to the millions upon millions of civilians that are too smart to join that cause. It isn’t something to celebrate and even I’ve been guilty of celebrating it time and again. Winning is to be celebrated to be certain – after all, you didn’t die – but the acts upon which victory is achieved is a different matter altogether.

With war and battle inevitably comes death. Death comes suddenly, and normally just when you think you’re safe. Death comes with finality, there are no heroic comebacks. Death… will not be negotiated with. When the bullets are flying and the bombs are dropping and exploding just feet from where you stood merely seconds ago, it’s not bravery soldiers are riddled with, but fear. Ned Stark taught his children that a man can only be brave when he’s afraid… and there’s no truer statement than that. It’s kill or be killed and there is nothing in between.

On the battlefield, death surrounds you like a well made glove. All of us in our proper places like it’s our destiny. And Death himself? He picks and chooses who he wants to take with him and when he wants to do it. In order to survive war, one must be well taught, well trained, well tested, strategic and wise. Even then, often times it isn’t enough. At times, death is random, at times it seems as if it’s predetermined like some bad remake of Final Destination.

My men and women are battle tested to be sure. We’re engaged in our fourth war in six years and sometimes it seems like it’ll never end. Poland, the Church and Italy, my fathers Illuminatus forces in France… and here in the United States against the Ares Project. When the flag of victory is raised for the final time over the ashes of the Ares Project ruins… is that it? Who’s next? What’s next? Or will my people have finally fought their way to peace and freedom? One thing is certain: that fat lady will be singing very soon – one way or the other.

Seems strange, doesn’t it? Achieving peace through death… through destruction… through war.

Four wars, and I’m just 23 years old. I’m tired. I’m tired of fighting. I’m tired of sending people I care about to early graves. Yes, I’m even tired of sending my enemies to theirs as well. I meant what I said to Lauren before I left New York. I seek the dissolution of the Illuminatus State. No state, no target. At least, that’s the hope.

I just hope it’s soon enough. This isn’t the life I want for me or my people. Most importantly, I want my three beautiful children to have what I never did. I want them to experience life without the struggles and the hassles of trying to find ways to protect others. I want them to lead normal lives. Whatever normal is.

War has its effects on those within it. As stated, it’s glorified in Hollywood. Yet what me and my people do isn’t filmed on some Hollywood sound stage. There is no director to yell cut when someone fucks up. Here, when someone fucks up, people die. There are no second takes, there are no re-shoots. When one of your platoon buddies is cut down in a movie, there’s always that five seconds of grief closeup that follows it. In reality, there’s no time for grief in the heat of a battle. When the bullets stop flying, only then is it okay to take time and reflect. Only then is it okay to grieve for your friends that gave their lives so that you might live. Despite the enemy being the enemy, we grieve for their dead too.

On the battlefields, whether it’s in the jungles, the deserts or in the streets… death follows you. You can smell it oozing from your pores when you sweat. You can taste it in your mouth like you just bit into a rancid steak left in the sun to rot.

The wars may end, but the battle though, it never really ends. Long after the bullets stop flying and the bombs stop falling, long after the last drop of blood stains the ground below, for most of us, the battle continues for as long as we live. In our minds, in our dreams.

The pleasantly cool temperatures I was praising recently, they’ve turned heel very suddenly. Death Valley has become Hell on Earth with mid day highs well north of 100 degrees and a result of the heat is that we do very little moving in the daytime. It’s just too damn hot and its wreaking havoc on our equipment. What was supposed to be about a days ride north through the Mojave Desert and into the valley sandwiched within the mountains on three sides, has now taken us three times as long.

The military convoy adopted a mile wide approach. Much like in auto racing, too close together and stacked single file, a vehicle not at the front of a pack is likely to overheat. Overheating vehicles right now are the very bane of our existence. We’ve already suffered six blown radiators so far due to the heat and the sand kicking up and lodging within their cooling fins.

We roll to a stop in the sands. Less than a mile north of us, rests the underground facility belonging to the Illuminatus State and now occupied by the Ares Project. What an embarrassment.

”Why are we stopped?” I ask into the mic from my position in the backseat of a Humvee. ”More overheating?”

”No Commander,” Dick Small comes through into my ear piece from the Command Center back in New York. ”It seems the Ares Project buried spike strips and there’s some flat tires we’re dealing with.”

”Fucking Christ,” I say aloud to myself.

”Hey baby,” Lauren says, also from New York.

”Heyyy,” I reply to her with a smile.

”We got some bad news,” Lauren says to me.

”Don’t like bad news,” I say to her facetiously while I watch some of the soldiers starting to dig the spike strips from the ground.

”Would you rather me not tell you?” she asks. She’s learned so much. I’m grateful that she’s safe in New York and watching, paying attention.

”Nah, I gotta know babydoll,” I reply back. ”Lay it on me.”

”You have no air support,” she delivers the tough news.

”What the hell do you mean we have no air support!?” I ask angrily. Clearly, not toward Lauren but to the situation in general.

”Both, the California and Nevada Governor’s have denied our request to use their airspace for military operations,” Dick chimes in.

”What if we,” I begin, but Dick cuts me off.

”We have the carrier in the Baja, but the Mexican President won’t permit us to launch any planes,” he informs me.

”Son of a bitch,” I mutter to myself. ”Dick, you still know people within the federal government,” I remind him, but again he cuts me off.

”I do, and I’m already on it,” he replies. ”But it’s slow moving and, as usual, they’re dragging their feet.”

”Alright, keep me informed,” I say back to him. ”How thick you think this is gonna get?”

”They’re down a lot of men,” he answers quickly. ”The battle on the sea sent the vast majority of their boys to the bottom of the Atlantic. They’ll rely on traps and strategy rather than actual man to man firepower in all likelihood.

“Once you near the facility though,” he pauses for a beat. ”That’s when I’d suggest that they’ll be desperate. It’ll be their final stand.”

”Have we had eyes on McGovern?” I ask, referring to the Ares Project’s General.

”Not since the satellite feed showed him entering the facility,” he answers.

”So he’s here,” I say with a deep sigh of satisfaction.

”It seems his way of thinking and yours are in line this time,” he replies. ”The last battle.”

”Thanks Dick,” I say to him as we start to roll forward again. The switch on my mic allows me three options. Command Center only, troops only, or both. Switching it from Command Center to both, I prepare to address all of my people before the fighting begins.

”My name is Thaddeus Leander Duke the Second,” I begin as I stare off across the expanse of the desert. ”Commanding General of the Illuminatus Armed Forces and King of the Illuminatus State.

”For seven years we have fought for the right to live. For the right to lead normal lives. For seven years, our brothers and sisters have given their lives trying to accomplish that very goal. Today, our last war together begins its end,” I pause for a beat as I gather my thoughts.

“Demons run when a good man goes to war,” I continue on, beginning to quote Steven Moffat’s poem. ”Night will fall and drown the sun,
“When a good man goes to war.

“Friendship dies and true love lies.
“Night will fall and the dark will rise,
“When a good man goes to war.

“Demons run, but count the cost.

“The battle's won... but the child is lost.”

I pause to gather my emotions.

”Ladies and gentlemen, you have stood beside me. You have fought beside me. You have been steadfast in your resolve to live and I admire each and every one of you,” I continue on. ”It has been the honor of a lifetime to lead you all. There is nothing I can say, nothing I can give you that will appropriately thank you for all of your sacrifices to me, my family, and the Illuminatus State.”

Hesitating a long moment as the military convoy rolls to a stop. With the facility in sight, I ponder whether or not to tell everyone the truth. I’ve never lied to them about anything. Why start now?

”When our flag flies in victory,” I begin again. ”When the war is over, you’ll have earned your right to freedom and my final act as your King...” I pause as the drivers and the passengers of every vehicle withing sight distance all turn and stare at me. ”Will be the dissolution of the Illuminatus State.

“Plans are already underway for that eventuality. After the last bomb has fallen, the last man has been killed, there will be no Illuminatus Sate to defend any longer. You’ve given enough of yourselves to me and my family and we’ve all fought too long and too hard to make sure most of you have lived to see this day.”

It’s hard, ya know? Trying to be the leader, trying to inspire these men and women to fight until their last breath, when your own heart... just isn’t in it anymore. I said I was exhausted, and I meant that. I’ve been fighting and fighting and fighting since I was 15 years old. I’m ready to put a bow on all of this. I’m ready to send whatever is left of the Illuminatus State into that sweet goodnight.

Stepping out of the Humvee to the desert surface, I stretch out and look off into the distance through a set of binoculars. Any time now, the Northern front should reach the apex of the mountain range. In battle, vantage point is key. If you control the highest elevations, you control the battle.

No sooner do I pull the binoculars away from my face, our position is rocked by two violent explosions. Rushing over to one of the exploded Humvee’s, I pull a survivor out of the burning shell of the vehicle.

”Medic!” I shout in futility. The soldier gasps for air several times and touches my face before quickly succumbing to his injuries. ”Thank you soldier,” I say to him quietly. Looking up, a pair of virtually silent war planes buzz over head, away from us.

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”Were they...” the soldier next to me begins to ask before stopping himself.

”They were silent,” I confirm his suspicions as he and I, and probably everyone else, starts to try and wrap their heads around what the hell just happened.

We were attacked.

From behind.

And we never heard anything until something exploded these two vehicles.

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Off in the distance, the sounds of a firefight on the mountains is very much evident.

It was early.

If anyone thought this final showdown between us was going to be easy, quick and painless, then they’re being reminded right now that they’re not going down without a fight.

But neither are we.

”Turn the turrets around,” I order into the mic. ”Every other one, one front, next rear facing. If those fuckers send anymore of those… whatever the fuck they are, then we need to be ready for them!”

Behind us, the tank squadron does as ordered.

”Let’s roll!” I call out as we file into the Humvee’s and tear off across the desert.

”Snipers!” calls out one of my lead Lieutenants on the Northern front. ”We’re pinned down and need air support!”

Well shit.

”You’re not getting air support,” I reply to him quickly.

”We’re sitting ducks out here!” he fires back at me.

”The Governor’s won’t permit us to use their air space, Lieutenant. We’re shit outta luck.”

”Fuck!”

”Stay calm,” I remind him. ”If you show fear, the soldiers beneath you will get demoralized and you’re all as good as dead.

“Can you retreat?”

”Negative!” he shouts. ”Any time one of us pokes our head out, we get picked off!”

”How far up the mountain are you?” I ask of him.

”Not far,” he answers. ”Bout a third of the way up, probably not even.”

”Commander,” interjects the soldier next to me. I turn to see him craning his neck to look behind us. ”There’s more of those...”

”Whatever they are,” I finish his thought. To be certain, they’re about the size of a fighter jet, but as far as we can tell, they fly autonomously and they’re almost entirely silent.

”All stop!” I order and the convoy quickly comes to a rest. ”We got company behind us. Let’s take ‘em out!”

Filing out of the Humvee’s, the soldiers and I ready ourselves before opening fire on these plane like objects. The tanks too, they fire mortar rounds but tanks are imprecise. Mostly we’re just wasting ammunition.

”Your orders, Commander?” asks the leader of the Northern front.

”Kind of busy here,” I say to him. Yes, I realize it sounds heartless. ”Keep your heads down as long as you can Lieutenant, I’ll be back with you shortly and we’ll figure out how to get you off that mountain.”

Shot after shot, tank round after tank round and finally, something clips the wing of one of the enemy drones, sending it spiraling out of control and harmlessly into the ground where its missile explodes. Soon after, the second one is blown out of the sky with a direct hit.

With the threat behind us taken care of for the moment, I return my attention to the mountains where my boys are pinned down.

”Lieutenant, how you holdin’ up?” I ask of him.

The response I was waiting for doesn’t come like I expected.

”Lieutenant?”

”Commander?” Dick Small cuts in. ”What’s the range on the WarHammer?”

The WarHammer. Developed and sold to me by John Caedus. Small nuclear missiles fired from a large, heavy rocket launcher like contraption capable of knocking down small mountains.

”Oh it’ll reach,” I inform my chief of staff. ”I worry about the fallout.”

”It’s the desert,” he reminds me.

”Commander!” calls out the Lieutenant. ”We made it back down.”

”Good,” I reply to him. Odds are he just sent a lot of our boys and girls to their deaths to provide covering fire for the rest of them in retreat. ”How many we lose during the retreat?”

”Seventeen at last count sir,” he replies with a heavy heart.

”Mourn them later Lieutenant, there isn’t time for that now.”

”Yes sir,” he agrees.

”We need to get you guys over these fucking mountains,” I say, partially in an effort to redirect his focus to the task at hand and not on the losses we just suffered. ”Prepare the WarHammer’s, Lieutenant.”

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