"Thank you, sir," came the reply in unison.

Two medical orderlies were attending to Paxton and West. One of them gave West a quick look over, and gave him a clean bill of health. "You seem okay, sir," the orderly assured. "I think you just got the wind knocked out of you by the explosion. I recommend that you go to the medical center for a check up as soon as this is over."

"Thanks, trooper," West replied, rubbing his temples with his hands.

Wellington walked up to Paxton as a medical orderly was bandaging his left shoulder and placing his left arm in a sling. "Well, Leftenant," Wellington began, "I suggest you follow the orderly back to the medical center."

"I prefer to stay here, sir," Paxton replied. "You need me."

"You can't operate a rifle with one injured arm in a sling," Wellington said sternly. "I know that you are trying to help, but you will only be a nuisance to your comrades."

"Begging your pardon, sir," Paxton countered, pulling his pistol out of the holster. "I still have one good arm left, and I am right handed."

"Good man!" Wellington praised, slightly tapping Paxton with his swagger stick. "If the rest of the garrison is like you, Leftenant, then the enemy will pay dearly for this planet."

"We will follow you to Hell itself, sir," Hawkes spoke out. "Just say the word."

"I have no intention of going there, Leftenant," Wellington replied with a tired smile. "Nonetheless, I thank you for the thought. I am proud of you all."

Wellington climbed out of the trench, and walked to another position along the defense perimeter.

Nicholson watched the duke with profound admiration, a tear trailing down his cheek. West gave him a puzzled look. "Are you crying, Lieutenant?" he asked.

"Tears of pride and joy, Captain," Nicholson replied. "One of my ancestors fought under the first Duke of Wellington at Waterloo, as a member of the Black Watch. Here I am, millions of miles away from Earth and over two hundred years later, fighting under the 13th Duke as a member of the same regiment. My family history has made a full circle. The same can be said about most of my comrades."

"The Duke is one heck of a guy, Paddy," West added, triggering astonished looks from the junior members of the 58th as he addressed Nicholson by his first name. "What are the rest of you looking at?"

"Nothing sir," the junior pilots replied in unison, trying hard not to laugh out loud.

The 58th realized that the wall separating them from their captain was beginning to crumble. They saw that West was reaching out to them indirectly via Nicholson.

June 18, 2065. Herron Defense Perimeter, 18:46 hours.

The Herron defenders were puzzled by flashes and sound of explosions occurring behind the enemy lines, and by the flashes of light in the skies above Herron. "What the bloody hell is going on?" Wellington asked as he looked through his binoculars. "Can you see anything, Leftenant?"

"Nothing, sir," Nicholson replied. "Only flashes of light."

"Command Center, this is Wellington," the duke spoke into his comlink. "Sound the 'Red Alert'!"

"What do you think is happening, Your Grace?" Colonel Hastings asked as he and several other garrison command officers ran up to Wellington.

"I think this is it, Ladies and Gentlemen," Wellington answered. "This may be the end."

"Could it be the fleet?" Zardov inquired.

"I will assume the worst case scenario, Major," Wellington replied. "If this is the end, then we will fight and die here. Return to your troops. Thank you."

The commanders returned to their positions, and prepared for the worst, as they believed that the final enemy offensive was about to take place. The flashes of light and thunderous explosions ceased suddenly, and an eerie calm settled over the base. After several minutes, a faint sound was heard by the troops manning the front line positions.

"What could it be?" Paxton asked, looking at the rest of the 58th.

"It sounds like…." Nicholson began, but suddenly stopped.

"I think I know what you're thinking, Lieutenant," West concurred.

"What?" Hawkes demanded.

"Bagpipes," Nicholson answered.

"Bagpipes?" Morales asked, looking at Habib and Montallo.

"Yes, bagpipes," Wellington confirmed.

"Why would the Chigs be playing recordings of bagpipes?" Hawkes asked. "On Demios, they played recordings of human voices to lure us into a trap."

"My God!" Wellington exclaimed. "They made it! The fleet is here."

"If that is true, then those bagpipes are making the sweetest sound in the universe," Nicholson added.

"Hold on, now, Lieutenant," Hawkes protested. "Golf and bagpipe music are not the best things to come out of Scotland."

The soldiers of the Herron garrison were joyfully surprised when 3 dozen Hammerheads fighters flew over the base. A few minutes later, 50 ISSAPCs descended right outside the defense perimeter, and heavily armed soldiers scrambled out of the cabins. They began to take up defensive positions along the perimeter line, joining the weary troops of the garrison. After fourteen days of heavy fighting, the fleet managed to secure the four planets, and broke through to Herron.

Wellington climbed out of his position, and moved forward to greet the incoming troops. A single Hammerhead fighter landed just ahead of the troops of the relief columns. Colonel Bane climbed out of the cockpit of the fighter, jumped to the ground, and walked at the head of the leading elements of the U.S. 1st Infantry Division and the bagpipers of the Royal Nepalese Rifles and the Indian Rajputana Rifles Brigade. She stood at attention, and saluted as Wellington approached her. He returned the salute with a weary look on his face. "Welcome to the party, Colonel Bane," Wellington said with a stoic smile.

"Thank you, sir," Bane replied, shaking Wellington's hand. "I wish to convey the apologies of the Supreme Commander and the fleet to you and the Herron garrison for being a bit late."

"Several days ago, the commanders of the northern and southern polar bases detonated thermoneutron explosive devices rather than surrendering to the enemy," Wellington stated grimly, trying very hard to control his emotions. "They bought us the time we needed for you to get here, and they paid for it with their lives. Yesterday, we lost the satellite communications dish in an air raid. We had no idea as to when you were coming. Some even doubted that you were going to come at all. Kindly inform the fleet to land troops on the northern and southern polar bases. The structures should still be standing as well as safe for occupation."

"Very good, sir," Bane replied, reaching for her comlink.

The 58th and the other units crowded around the troops of the relief columns, waiving their fists and weapons in exhilaration. The British contingent broke out singing an impromptu chorus of "Land of Hope and Glory" as they gathered around the Duke of Wellington and Bane, separated only by a small detachment of military police personnel. Soon, the other units joined them in cheering the man who had courageously led them during the battle for Herron.

"Sir, I have the Supreme Commander on the line for you," Bane exclaimed, handing the comlink to Wellington.

"Yes, sir," Wellington spoke into the comlink, looking at the hundreds of admiring troops around him. "Thank you, sir. In fact I have the heroes of Herron with me at the moment, all 6,000 of them!"

The troops cheered their beloved commander.

Dan Casey also landed with the ground troops, acting as the liaison officer between the fleet and the ground forces. He fought through the crowd looking for the 58th. He recognized Habib in the middle of the crowd. "ELENA HABIB!" he called out.

Habib ran up to Casey, and gave him a warm embrace. "You are such a sight for sore eyes, Dan," she said, kissing him tenderly.

"I'm glad you're safe, Elena," Casey replied, holding her tightly for a minute before turning to greet her comrades.

Hawkes, West, and the rest of the 58th joined Habib in greeting Casey. "Good to see you, Dan," Hawkes exclaimed, patting him on the back as West gave him a bear hug.

"How is the rest of the fleet?" West asked, releasing Casey from his embrace.

"We suffered some substantial casualties during the operations on the four planets," Casey replied. "Numerous ships and squadrons were lost during the last two weeks. Wu was injured during an explosion on the bridge of the Saratoga. The 93rd returned safely from escorting you guys, but Peter Bogdanis was shot down over Tahara. They found his body two days ago. The Saratoga lost the 41st and the 66th."

"Damn this war!" West cursed. "Any victory can't make up for the loss of lives. It leaves a bittersweet taste in your mouth."

West's remarks brought his ecstatic comrades back to reality. He really hated bursting the bubble of euphoria, but he couldn't help mourning the loss of his comrades. "To quote the immortal words of the 1st Duke of Wellington as he surveyed the aftermath of the Battle of Waterloo, 'next to a battle lost, the saddest thing is a battle won'."

"Thank God for being alive," Hawkes interjected, rescuing the moment.

"We really gave the Chigs a real kick in the rear end, guys," Casey said earnestly, putting his arms around Habib. "We really stand a good chance of winning this war after all. We never had that hope before."

The smiles returned to the faces of the members of the 58th, but they were tempered by sobriety. West silently embraced each member of his squadron beginning with Hawkes. "I am proud of all of you," he said in a controlled voice, tears rolling down his cheek. "You are the heart and soul of this squadron. Cooper, Elena, Julia, Rodney, and Wally. You're the best."

"Thank you, sir," the 58th replied in one voice.

"From now on, I want you to call me Nathan," West replied with a big smile.

The 58th and Casey then joined the other troops in the impromptu celebrations. West walked alongside Hawkes and the rest of the 'Wild Cards' in joining their comrades who gathered around Wellington and cheering. The duke stood on the wing of Bane's Hammerhead fighter, acknowledging the cheers of those under his command. A stoic smile broke out on his face as he waved at his troops, the epitome of a weary general basking in his victory.

June 18, 2065. Herron Airfield, 20:30 hours.

Earth Forces had gained air superiority over Herron, and had pushed the Chig fleet 3000 MSKs away from the planet. The ground forces began mopping up remaining enemy resistance on planet, but the main base and an area of a 15-km radius had been secured. Admiral Ross and Air Chief Marshal Rillian-Pennington landed on planet to personally congratulate the Herron defenders.

An honor guard stood, in combat dress, stood at attention with the weary troops of the Herron garrison. All the top brass were also dressed in combat outfits. Wellington stood at the head of the garrison's senior officers to welcome them. West, being acting air officer commanding, was also part of the senior officers delegation. Air Chief Marshal Rillian-Pennington returned the salute of the garrison, and approached Wellington. "Congratulations, Wellington," Rillian-Pennington said happily. "Your plan worked out magnificently. Too bad we weren't able to stick to the schedule."

"Thank you, sir," Wellington replied with humility. "My troops deserve more praise than me. I have never served with a finer group of fighting men and women."

"They have all done well," Rillian-Pennington added. "We are proud of them, and of you, Your Grace."

Rillian-Pennington's formal address took Wellington by surprise, and he graciously shook hands with the air chief marshal who had been the most vocal critic of his plans. Ross then moved up, and greeted the duke. "Congratulations, Adam," he said. "Fortune has definitely smiled on you. Your plan may yet be the downfall of the enemy. And it may be a matter of history repeating itself."

"Whatever do you mean, Glen?" Wellington asked in a confused tone.

"Today is June 18, 2065," Ross replied.

"Oh, for God's sakes!" Wellington exclaimed, realizing the significance of the date.

"You of all people should know, Adam," Rillian-Pennington interjected. "It is the 250th anniversary of the Battle of Waterloo!"

The entire garrison cheered enthusiastically at the announcement, their admiration directed at the commander who had led them not by personal charisma, but by his example of silent courage and determination. A commander who had earned their loyalty and respect. West looked at the 58th as they applauded Wellington, with Montallo and Morales supporting an ambulatory Mirk. Like them, he was standing in the shadow of a truly great man; a living legend who was the epitome of the great human qualities of courage and determination. A man who came out of the shadow of his famous ancestor. There was something in what Casey had said. There might be hope for a better future after all.