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The Hero Without a Past (Stubbing in February 2024)
Chapter Eighty: The Thanks of a Grateful Nation

Chapter Eighty: The Thanks of a Grateful Nation

As soon as we were in range, Anne pulled out her phone and dialed home. “Dad? It’s me. We’re fine.”

Paul’s voice filled the cabin. “Anne?..... Where are you?”

“Downtown. Had to drop off some stuff for Andrew… There’s something I need to tell you.”

“What happened?”

“We got into a fight. Well. A battle.”

“Is that so.”

“We’re fine, though. We didn’t even get hurt by the aliens, and Andrew’s armor held.”

“Where was this battle?”

“Liverpool.”

“.... You went to Britain and came back.”

“Yeah. They had travelers and everything. We’ll be home soon. We’re on our way back - maybe an hour.”

“I see. I’ll wait up.”

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Paul Drake was, in fact, waiting when we got home.

He didn’t say anything as Anne and I trooped into the door. We’d changed into normal clothes, and I’d stashed my armor in Inventory - and Anne’s as well.

It didn’t change the fact that our clothes were covered in sweat and grime. Combat armor - powered or not - wasn’t very breathable, and we’d both been burning a lot of calories - me in combat and Anne in powering her nanobots.

The unfortunate side effect was that we stank.

Paul took in the sight - and smell - of the two of us. “Showers first,” he ordered. “You hungry?”

“Starving,” Anne said.

“Then dinner,” Paul said. “Anne - you first. Andrew - can I have a word with you before you go?”

Anne tensed. “Dad….”

“It’s okay, Anne. I just want to talk to Andrew. Man to man.”

I nodded. “Go on, Anne. Paul and I will be in the basement for a bit.”

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Paul let me place the armor - mine and Anne’s - back on its racks. He raised an eyebrow at the burn marks. “Fire damage?” he asked.

“Plasma hits,” I replied. “Some Raptors hit me. Armor held, though.”

“Would Anne’s have held against that?”

“Not that kind of fire,” I admitted. “That’s why I had her in the support tent. They almost never hit the supports.”

“I see.” Paul sat down heavily. “I think you understand why I’m here.”

“I’m sorry. Anne shouldn’t have left school without telling you.”

“Telling me,” Paul remarked quietly. “Time was, she would have asked me. First. Before even thinking of leaving class.”

“I….”

“But she asked you.”

“She told me.”

“And if you’d said no? If you’d refused to take her?”

“I … think she’d have tried to come along anyway. She’s an ultra.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning if she wants to be a part of an alien defense, she’s entitled to.”

“Even if she’s just a kid. Just fifteen.”

I sighed. “I don’t know what the rules for teens are, Paul. I can’t even ask because giving away our age would give people clues to our identities.”

“And in this world of ultrahumans and alien combat - my daughter has only one person to guide her. You. With your lost memory.”

I shook my head. “You’ve got it wrong. Half the time she guides me.”

Paul closed his eyes for a second.

“Do you understand,” he said slowly, “what it means for a father to know that his daughter doesn’t come to him first anymore?”

I didn’t know how to respond. “I’m sorry. I - never intended for this to happen.”

“For what? For Anne to grow up?”

“Er…”

“All fathers know this will happen someday, Andrew.” Paul stared at me. “We raise our daughters hoping that we can prepare them for the day when they don’t need us. We hope, and pray, that they make good choices. That they meet the right people. That they have safe, happy lives.

“My daughter is an ultrahuman. She’s never going to be free of that, is she?”

“I don’t think you can be.”

“And ultrahumans fight. Whether they want to or not, ultrahumans get dragged into the battles of the age. Whether it’s against the aliens or other ultras.” He shook his head. “There’s nothing I can do to protect her from what’s out there any more. There are so many dangers, and I’m… I’m so very small.” His voice trailed off. “So tell me, Andrew. How do I protect my daughter?”

An answer came to me, as if from very far away.

“By being her rock,” I said. “By being the one she turns to when she needs. She’s strong, stronger than she knows. She is smart and driven, caring and funny, full of life and fire and dreams and wit. She is everything you ever hoped she would be, and she will be more than you dreamed of.”

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Paul nodded. “That she is.”

“She’ll need you, Paul. I don’t live a safe life. I don’t even know who I am… do I have a family of my own? Friends? Parents? Children? I have no idea today. But someday, I will find out. And when that time comes? I may need to leave.

“I’ll still be her friend, and her brother in all but name. But you’re her dad. I can’t be that.”

Paul shook his head. “I’m not the one who can walk her through the world of ultrahumans.”

“You’re going to be the one who walks her down the aisle.”

Paul laughed mirthlessly. “Does that even happen for ultras?”

“I am serious. The ultra stuff … it’s only a part of our lives. Not the whole thing. Anne spent months in school after discovering her powers, doing nothing but exercising them.

“Days like today don’t happen too often. I looked it up online - the average ultra is in five, maybe six, actual fights in a year. And that’s largely with other ultras. Alien actions? I’ve been in two.

“In all, I’ve been in five major battles. In about a year. That’s it. The rest? It’s basically exercising, training and healing other people.”

“About a battle every two months.”

“Yes, and I may be on the higher side - at least according to the ultras I spoke to in Liverpool. The rest? It’s life. Normal life. Cooking, cleaning, driving, homework - I got massive XP for passing the FSAT. Anne had dogs pee on her nanobots. It’s… just things. Life.”

“So what you’re saying is that Anne still needs her dad.”

“For the day-to-day stuff that’s not ultrahuman chaos? Yeah. Every day.”

Paul shook his head. “And for the ultrahuman things? Can I trust that next time Anne wants to go off fighting a massive, dangerous battle, you’ll at least consult me? Before taking her halfway across the world?”

I winced. “You have my word.”

“Then I’ll let this time pass. But Andrew? I’m putting my trust in you. Don’t let me down.”

I nodded in acknowledgement.

“OH YOU HAVE GOT TO BE KIDDING ME!”

Anne’s voice startled the both of us. Paul looked at me. “Attack?”

“She’d have sent me a message.” I grabbed the Lightning Hammer anyway. “Let’s go.”

Five seconds later, we burst into the drawing room, me wielding my hammer and Paul gingerly trying to balance a laser rifle.

Anne was screaming at the TV. “Those bastards! Those jackasses!”

“What happened?” I barked.

“You will not believe what they’re saying on the TV!”

I sighed in relief. Paul gingerly stood the rifle in the corner. “Alexa, playback.”

The screen showed a makeshift stage, set up in front of the Beatles Museum. Liverpool. Atop the stage, a distinguished-looking grey-haired man was speaking.

I recognized him, of course. The King of England was one of the most known faces in the world - and I’d just met his grandson earlier that day.

“And we thank the esteemed heroes from across the ocean,” the King was saying, “who have helped us to stand against the menace from beyond the stars. We are most proud of the contributions of the esteemed heroes of Tanisport, to whom we shall accord special recognition. In light of their valiant efforts to protect the citizens of this city, we are pleased to grant the Ultramarine Cross to the noble heroes known as Quintana, Lady Lumina, Viking, and Soundwave, for their efforts in holding the line that allowed the King’s Royal Hussars to contain the aliens within Bramley-Moore Docks Stadium. We offer them the thanks of a grateful nation….”

I stared at the screen, puzzled. “What’s wrong?”

“They gave a medal to Quintana!” yelled Anne. “Quintana! She wasn’t even at Blackstone Street! And Lumina? Viking? They were fourth wave, Andrew!” She flung herself on the sofa. “That’s not fair!”

“Back up a minute,” Paul said. “What exactly happened?”

“Those four - they hardly did anything! And the King’s giving them medals, and they’re on stage… Andrew did a hundred times as much! He smashed the generator, he broke the Sarnak patrols, he even took prisoners! Prisoners! Nobody’s ever done that!”

Paul cocked his head. “Maybe you’d better start at the beginning. What exactly happened?”

As Anne explained the story of our battle, I had a sense of how much I’d missed.

Nanocloud hadn’t just been coordinating scouting for us, as I’d assumed. Her nanobots had swept through - and monitored - a quarter of the entire city of Liverpool.

She’d spotted twelve alien patrols and relayed the information to the British soldiers, letting them guide other ultras to stop them. She’d tracked down Raptors in hiding and found sniper nests - allowing for both airstrikes and rapid-fire assaults from back stairs and stairwells, hitting the Raptor Heavy Snipers in their blind spots. She’d spotted people who needed rescuing, and directed emergency services personnel to them - while keeping them out of the route of alien patrols.

And she’d tracked our journey, every step of the way, as the Tanisport heroes, Doyle’s platoon, and I fought our way through the knot of aliens that had tried to take Liverpool’s streets.

I wasn’t surprised that she’d guided us towards some of the toughest enemies. We had - I had - killed multiple Sarnak before, and getting Tucker the Sergeant had been something I’d hoped to do anyway.

What I hadn’t realized was that she’d also kept an eye on Quintana.

The Tanisport hero had snuck up on a couple of alien patrols under her cover of invisibility - and done nothing. She’d simply passed them by, not even warning the British coordinators.

When we’d been going into the stadium, armed with rockets to blow up the generator, Quintana had been one of the two invisible ultras in the third wave. Verschwiden, the other ultra, had gone in and unmasked at the right time to save my life.

Quintana had dragged her feet, then crept in behind the tanks.

Invisible ultras were exempt from the Stratospheric Guard’s requirement of recording - for obvious reasons. They got paid anyway, depending on the time logged by the local military forces. Most were brave enough to do the job they’d been hired for.

Lumina had also hung back, even during the fourth wave, hitting the enemy only when she could. Soundwave had failed to get his armor back online - deliberately.

Viking was the only one who’d fought the Battle of the Stadium honestly. He’d been smashing aliens right along with the other fourth-wavers.

Anne had seen it all. Every inch. Every moment of hesitation, concern or holding back by the four of them. As she explained, in great detail, to Paul.

“And after all this,” Anne finally wound down, “not a word about Andrew. Not one mention of Belessar. He took prisoners alive, Dad. He won us the battle.”

“I see,” Paul replied. “And you?”

“I… did my part. But yeah, I definitely did more than Quintana.”

“And then some,” I said. “Few ultras could have done more to coordinate the battle.”

“Understood,” Paul nodded. “Anne - what did you want out of this battle?”

“Huh?”

“Why did you join the fight?”

“I….” Anne hesitated. “I .. guess? … I wanted to help protect the city.”

“Liverpool? You’ve never been there. Why would you care about it?”

Anne gulped. “Andrew was going into the fight. I didn’t want him to go in alone.”

“So you were there to support Andrew?”

“Sort of,” Anne admitted.

“Meaning?”

“I think … I also wanted to see what I could do. Fighting the aliens.”

“Whether what your power did was worthwhile.”

“I guess. I haven’t really thought about it that much.”

“Was it worth it?”

“Yeah. Definitely.”

“Then you got what you wanted from the battle, didn’t you?”

“I… guess I did?”

“So why do you care about what others got?”

Anne looked puzzled. “Because… it’s not fair?”

“When you look at the question of fairness, Anne, you should also consider what you want. Do you want the British government to be fair? Or do you want to make a difference?”

“Uh... the second, I guess?”

“Then forget about what rewards other people got. They don’t matter. What matters is whether you got what you wanted.”

“But….” Anne looked mulish. “They shouldn’t have gotten those medals.”

“Do you want one?”

Anne shrugged. “I dunno? Maybe. I think I earned it.”

“Did you want one before the battle started?”

“I… didn’t even know it was an option?”

“Perhaps it wasn’t. Perhaps the Cross was a last minute gesture on the part of the King.”

“Why not give it to us, then?”

“Because you weren’t there for the awards, and they needed to record the ceremony - and show it - to the public. PR is a thing.”

“But that makes no sense. Awards should go to those who deserve it….”

“I’m not saying you don’t deserve it, but that’s not the point. Governments do things for their own reasons. Not yours.”

Anne looked bewildered. I could feel some confusion, myself. “Why would they be so…”

“Bureaucratic?” Paul finished the sentence. “They just are. How many different organizations are you dealing with anyway?”

“The U.S. Army,” I said. “The Tanisport P.D. The Tanisport DA’s office. The British government, now. DURABLE.”

“School,” muttered Anne.

“That’s quite a list. And do you know what the motives of each are?”

I hesitated.

Paul shook his head. “You don’t, do you? You don’t know the goals of each group you’re working with. So how can you know why any one group does what it does?”

"And that's not counting the Grunters and Blackhats - or any other actual villain organizations," mumbled Anne.

"Or independent operators like Agni," I added.

"You need to understand what’s driving each of these groups. Why they want you to be their friend, why they’re your enemy."

“How do we do that?” I asked.

“I see I have a lot to teach you,” Paul said. “Well - if we’ve got to figure out these things, then I have to learn a bit more about the world of ultrahumans. So sit down, the two of you, and let’s talk.”