A Barrel of Memories

Sick Grandmother, a run-down tavern at the edge of space, or rather, human-colonized space. In a dark corner of Sick Grandmother there sat Gran. His gray, untended beard was the only facial feature people could see, as the rest of his face, and his scars, were covered by the large hood of his raggedy coat. He sat in silence, alone, sipping his booze in peace. A few tables over, a rowdy group began to get on his nerves.

“And then! I RODE THE SHARK LIKE A SURFBOARD!” claimed a man, jumping on the table while posing as if he’s surfing, wearing a suit and a monocle. The others in his group cheered – a gray-haired man in underwear, a guy in a dog suit, and a small girl who appeared to be a teenager but had absurdly large gloves on her hands. “And? Then what? What did you do to save the world, Inspector?” She called out to him, urging him to continue the tale.

“The shark arrived at the pirate port and…”

“Now, hold on a minute…” claimed a stranger sitting at the table next to them.

“Didn’t you say it was in space?” The man in the suit turned, glanced at him, then smiled, and his tooth shone brightly for a moment.

“It was a space shark, you fool! Now listen! I arrived in port, three…”

“Hold on a minute…” the stranger once again interrupted him. “Which sector was this again?” The man in the suit sighed and combed his hair back.

“It was the… erm… the…” He hesitated. “Matters not, I saved the girl from the pirates! End of story!”

The man in a dog suit howled. Gran slammed his mug down and got up, letting out an annoyed grunt as he was about to head out. Behind him, a ruckus started between the bizarre, loud group and the calmer folks sitting at the adjacent table. A moment later, a plate flew and shattered; mugs and trays then became weapons as the tavern erupted in a brawl.

Saira stood by the exit door, watching Gran slowly leave, and then sighed. “Those idiots…” Gran glanced at her, giving a weary smile. His face was covered in scars and burn marks. Her eyes widened for a moment, but she quickly regained her composure and smiled at him. “Thank you for the visit.” He gave her a sad nod in response. “Good luck,” he mumbled under his breath in a raspy voice.

As he took a step outside, a lime that was thrown by somebody in the tavern impacted the door frame next to him, ricocheted, and hit him in the face. He snapped and glanced at it angrily; the shape and color sent chills through his body. He began to shudder, suddenly the memories of war flooded his mind. Panic took over as swiftly as the brawl broke out.

He leaped away in fright and screamed, “GRENADE!” Falling into the mud, an explosion followed shortly after, covering him in mud and stones. “Aggh! Aggghhhh!” he groaned, crawling away through the mud and over corpses. Gunfire and lasers roared; missiles seared overhead. “FIFTH PLATOON! REGROUP!! REGROUP!!!” an officer shouted. Gran tried to remember which platoon he belonged to while muffling the buzzing in his ears. “Ughh! Agghh!” Reaching for his hip, he found the holster empty.

Somebody took a firm grasp of his collar, pulling him up and pushing an accelerator rifle into his hands. “MOVE IT!!!” Gran nodded, heading up and over a mound where the rest of the platoon was regrouping. Sliding down the muddy hill, he quickly glanced around. Someone waved at him and he rushed over. “Steve! Thank the lords you’re alright!”

Steven nodded. “We’re retreating, Calibri is coming to pick us up!”

The officer shouted, “FIFTH, ON ME! WEST-BOUND THROUGH THE FOREST! MOVE, MOVE, MOVE!”

The entire platoon cheered and rushed out of the trenches. A mech stepped past them, a moment later a missile impacted the very same mech. Gran glanced over his shoulder at the barrage of missiles that emerged from the mech’s back and flew in the direction of enemy-reinforced positions. “This… is madness!” Steve just huffed as the platoon kept running.

A large spaceship made its landing just moments before their arrival, and the 5th platoon rushed up the ramps, loading inside. The Calibri took flight the moment the last man was onboard. Gran buckled up. The whole ship shook and trembled as the engines roared to life. He shook in his seat, clenching onto the straps.

“Hey! Hey! Are you alright?” Saira asked, shaking Gran gently as he lay on the floor, seemingly senseless. “Hey… Somebody call the med-squad!” she demanded from the crowd that was gathering around.

A bright flash of light jerked him back to his senses as a medic shone a light into his eyes.

“Ah! Huh?? Hah!!! Wh..where am I?” He spoke in a panicked tone, glancing around. The medic grabbed him firmly by the shoulders, holding him down on the ground.

“Easy. Deep breaths! In, and out… You’re safe! Can you recall your name, soldier?”

Gran stared into the medic’s eyes and did as instructed, swallowing audibly. “I.. Gran Yerlin, Lieutenant 3rd class.”

“Former…” said the medic as he got up and offered Gran a hand.

“F… former… yes”. He took the hand and got back up.

Saira peered inside her tavern and sighed, “Somebody call the spec-tac as well… There’s a fight that needs to be broken up.”

Gran was led away by the medics to their transport and then taken to the medbay for examination. Afterward, he had a talk with a psych and was administered new pills. Back at home, he showered and rested. The night was yet young, and he knew that nightmares would haunt him when he slept. So instead, he spent the hours staring out the window of his room.

The view was rather spectacular; the NII-7 station city floated in orbit of a twin-star system on the edge of colonized space. Many vets found themselves settling here. Occasional trips to the surface were therapeutic too for some. For others, these trips triggered their past memories and PTSD, but being locked up in a small room in a space station city always wasn’t very appealing. So, Gran had signed up for a surface trip in three days.

The following days passed in a blur. He found himself strapped down in a seat of a landing shuttle, along with 10 others. It reminded him of the war times again, but he desperately struggled to shake off the memories and fears. The shuttle shook as it entered the atmosphere. An alarm went off; sirens wailed. The pilot’s voice came on the intercom. “Mayday! Mayday! We’re hit! Going down! Engine 2 stalled! Disembark! JUMP! JUMP! JUMP!”

Gran watched his comrades struggle against the centrifugal force of a spiraling landing pod as they jumped out of the hatch one by one.

“Come on! Move it, brother!” Shouted Steve, grabbing Gran by the forearm, pulling him out of his chair, and helping him toward the hatch. “Go!” He shouted again!

Dizzy, Gran glanced out of the spiraling pod, sighed, and leaped out. As he stabilized himself in the air, he looked up to see his friend falling above him. ‘Good,’ he thought to himself and pulled the parachute open.

Their squad landed dispersed, and only Gran and Steve managed to land relatively close to each other. They regrouped, finding their supplies intact, but Gran had lost his rifle. “I saw some land to the…” Steve said, examining the compass. “…toward the sunset. The compass doesn’t work here,” he claimed, as he put the dysfunctional compass back into his pocket. The two made their way through the dense, wild forest, searching for their comrades.

The night had fallen, they had managed to regroup, and it was his time to stand watch. It was dark, pitch black in fact, with no moon to provide any light, only the faintest glow of the aurora above. Every noise made him jump, they were to scout out the enemy base and sabotage a hover-track, as the war on this planet was only just beginning. A gentle, barely audible voice came from behind him. “Sir? Are you alright?” He turned around to see a younger girl behind him, hair bright orange like tongues of flames.

He found himself sitting on a tree log, just outside the landing spot of the surface lander shuttle. The girl was one of the passengers. She smiled at him wearily as his glance returned to the wilderness. “Are you… alright?” She asked again.

He gasped and then nodded hesitantly. “I’m… fine. I just… need a drink.” The girl pulled out a bottle of water and offered it to him. He popped out a few pills and drank them, then, a few deep breaths later, he was ready to go, or so he thought.

The group walked off the platform and down the hiking path. It was a 10 km hike, with frequent stops and a medic, along with a psych to ensure the group’s safety and well-being. However, as they stepped onto the trail, a thunderclap in the distance sent him tumbling down. One day, much like this one, Gran stared death in the face.

On that fateful day, his group was returning from their mission. They were to march through the forest and make it to LZ3 where a landing pod was to pick them up. He was the tail-man, walking last and watching the 6. Although the planet was relatively safe, the fauna still posed a threat to them. After hours of walking through mud and bush, he had a feeling of being watched and stalked.

A branch snapped behind them, Gran stopped, turned, and knelt down, readying his rifle. He saw a branch fall from above, scanned the empty forest floor, and then directed his vision up the tree tops. He noticed marks on the trunks up high but detected no creatures or movement, only the gentle swaying of the canopy above them, caused by the wind. “Gran?” inquired somebody half a dozen paces away. “All clear,” he replied and turned on the radio to broadcast to the squad. “Watch up top.”

A few short moments later, they heard rattling and hissing. “RUN!” ordered Gran, and the squad broke into a sprint through the forest. They ran through the wilderness toward LZ3, where a pod should have been waiting for them. Gunshots, laser pistol discharges, and the sounds of warp grenades could be heard coming from the squad members. At last, there it was – an open field just behind the bushes.

Gran could see Steve just ahead of him but no other members were in sight. The gunfire had ceased a few minutes ago. Steve leaped over the bush, rolled, and knelt, aiming his rifle in Gran’s direction. A moment later, Gran did much the same, scanning the empty forest behind them. He pinged the radio, “Come in! Rogers? Grem? Nole? Anybody?” The pod was nowhere to be found, and the forest fell silent behind them, as it would in the presence of a predator.

They sat still until a loud bang caught their attention. It was the landing pod, breaking the sound barrier as it plummeted through the air in a fireball that soon extinguished.

“Delayed!” Gran angrily claimed. “We need to go look for the others!”

Steve shook his head and returned his attention to the forest. “No… Whatever is in that forest, we won’t be able to handle it.” Gran gritted his teeth and kept a watchful eye on the forest while awaiting the pod, the engines of which hissed as it landed behind them.

As its hatch hissed open and Gran began running up the ramp, something leaped at him from the forest. The creature had fur black as the void of space, with purple streaks running down its length. Gran had no time to react as he watched two white eyes approach him. This was it, this was the face of death. He stared into the eyes when suddenly, he was pushed away.

“AAAAHHH!” A pained scream was followed by several gunshots, and then there was rustling of bushes, and the forest fell silent again, only the monotone hum of the engines remained as the creature fled back into the forest, taking Steve with it.

Gran fired his rifle in the direction where the creature ran, but the shots were in vain. His eyes wide, and his body trembling, he looked down at the legs of his best friend – without a torso – lying on the ground just off the ramp, blood slowly oozing out. “S…Steve…” he shuddered, his knees buckling.

Then, a pilot’s shout came, “What the hell is going on there? Get in! We have to go!” Receiving no response, the pilot rushed out of the cockpit, noticed the half of a body, and saw the lieutenant on his knees.

He grabbed him by the collar and pulled him the rest of the way up the ramp. “LIEUTENANT? LIEUTENANT!?” shouted the medic as he held Gran’s head by the cheeks firmly. “OPEN YOUR EYES! YOU! ARE! SAFE!”

Gran opened his eyes to see a medic. “Good! Come back to us, Lieutenant! Deep breath! You’re safe!”

Gran took a deep breath and nodded. “Y…yea… Yeah, I’m… I’m alright…” The medic helped him sit up and patted him on the shoulder. “Jungle?”

Gran sat on the ground and watched the group that was sitting in the bushes and against the trees about a dozen meters away. “Altera… forest just like this one…” He spoke in a trembling voice. The medic nodded and squeezed his shoulder.

“I heard it was a living nightmare there.”

Gran shook his head, “worse…”

“Lost someone?” Gran sighed while looking down the path. “Entire squad, best friend… It should’ve been me, not him.”

The medic nodded understandingly. “Steve?” Gran raised his eyes to the medic, his body shuddering, tears flowing down his cheeks.

“He…was like a brother to me… That idiot!”

The medic smiled at him and sat down. “A brother he was to me as well.”

Gran gasped, just now recognizing the man before him. “Larson…??? W..what?”

He grinned. “Hey Gran, long time no see.”

Gran grasped Larson’s forearms and broke down into tears. “Larson.. I’m… I’m so sorry I couldn’t…”

But the younger man just held him tight. “Steve spoke of you all the time. On his last day, he sent me a message, saying the planet is watching, and that he would protect you, his brother, no matter the cost. He always spoke of how he wouldn’t let you die, no matter what.”

Gran cried, unable to utter a single word in response. “You did your best, Gran…I don’t hold it against you, nobody does. Every man who served with you is proud of it and is thankful for it.”

He pulled his hand away and brought up a holo-screen from his bracelet; on it, a video compilation played, featuring soldiers saved by Gran’s actions and sacrifices. He listened, unable to look, until a familiar voice arose. “Thank you, brother.” It was Steve.

Gran’s arms slumped, his body weakened. He sank to his knees. Larson placed his hand on Gran’s shoulder, remaining by his side in silence, waiting for Gran to recover. Minutes turned to hours, the rest of the group proceeded with their trip, while the medic stayed with Gran. Shortly after, another landing pod touched down, and a familiar voice reached them. “And so, that one time, I rode a missile and steered it using my EVA Jet Pack into the enemy’s ves…” The man in the suit stopped his story and glanced down the path where Gran sat.

He remained silent for a bit as his group walked past them. Then he stopped, looked down at Gran, and grinned. “Good sir, a gentleman must at least sit on a chair when crying!” He unfolded a foldable chair, grabbed Gran by the armpits, and lifted him up, sitting him down in the chair. “Much better!” He exclaimed as he looked the vet in the eyes. “A hero must not kneel before anyone.”

Gran eyed him for a moment. “Annoying brat…” The suited man’s group settled around Gran and continued their noisy discussion, sharing random stories – some true, some made up. Eventually, Gran, annoyed by the endless noise, got up from his chair and walked down the path, dimly illuminated by the setting sun. Larson accompanied him. The two enjoyed the night hike, and the next morning, they returned to the station along with the gentleman’s group.

And on this note, the story of Gran concludes. A hero whose memories shall remain in history forever. The sacrifices heroes make to shape the future will be remembered. Tonight, you all are the legends and heroes; thank you for staying up to enjoy this tale until the end! Have a wonderful night!