The Last Spartan – Chapter Seventeen

Author owns no rights to Firefly and makes no money on his works, they are for his entertainment only

---------------------------

Jayne had been exhausted when he lay down on his bunk. He had been tempted to take blood from the infirmary, but already much had been used, so he had resisted the temptation, and sought rest to restore him.

He was asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow, but his slumber was not peaceful.

He was wandering through a wasteland of death and destruction. He didn’t recognize the place, but he was familiar, far too familiar with the sights that accompanied war.

A soldier for three thousand years, Janos had worn many names, but had always remained the Spartan he had been born, at heart. There was no shame in death on the battlefield, an honorable death that brought honor to one’s family.

But this, even for him, was overwhelming. He could see no end to the bodies around him, and the cries of the wounded were so loud that he could scarcely hear his own thoughts.

What had happened here, that so many were laid low? As he examined the dead before him, he was shocked to see the differences in their appearance. A man at his feet was dressed as a Crusader, from the Holy Land wars. Yet lying at his side was a soldier known as a G.I. An American infantry man from World War II, on earth that was.

What devilry had placed these men side by side upon the battlefield? He looked about him, and discovered that this was not an anomaly. Here a Pict was wrapped in mortal combat with the body of an Alliance soldier. There, a Mongol warrior from the Steppes was likewise lying beside a Zulu warrior, though they should have perished decades and continents apart.

His confusion growing, Janos stumbled across the field, stopping at the sight of a soldier from the great Boer wars, a man whose unit he had served in. His redcoat was stained with the darker red of blood, and his face was twisted in agony.

“Jan, my friend,” the man gasped at seeing him. “Have yo