Cross of the Legion (25 page)

***

"Put me back on the yacht!" Jason shot me back there and I charged into the bridge. Kemah looked up from the controls.

"She's fine," she said. "Got her on board!"

"Bless you!" I squeezed her and kissed her. She giggled and handed me the comset. "Talk with your girl friend."

"Millie! Are you all right?"

"Westo! I'm fine. Terrified, but fine. I'm so scared I'm shaking. There's no room in here. I can hardly breathe! This is horrible! Will I ever see you again?"

"Yes! Yes yes yes! Listen, Millie. The journey will not be long but it will be…intense. Noisy. Scary. Just strap in and close your eyes. When it gets worse, when you think you can't stand it any more, don't despair. Just remember that it is going to end, and when it ends, I will be right there. All right?"

"Yes." It was a whisper.

"Love you!" She did not reply.

"Kemah, back off one light year, now. Don't be surprised when that ship disappears. It's supposed to. I've got to go—for the last time. Thanks for everything! I'll never forget you!"

"Sir?"

"Yes?"

"What's your real name? Is it Westo?"

"Westo. Yes—my real name is Westo."

"Westo. Perfect! My readers will love it!"

"Good luck with the book. I got to run!"

"Good luck, sir. I'll miss you!"

I gave her one last kiss, and hustled off the bridge into the corridor. Kemah had jumped back a light year, and the CS
Salvation
was glowing already. The time drive had begun rotating.

***

The CS
Salvation
hung like a white phospho jewel in the starry void of Sagitta. The CS
Lifeline
approached her slowly, gliding towards her almost as if by magic. I stood with Jason and Apples, looking out the port. Over a hundred thousand years had passed since my holo had met Millie on a world that was no longer even there.

"She's still glowing like a nuke from the time hop," Jason said, closing his handcom. "We can't get any readings. Best to just go inside and see."

He didn't say it but we must have all been thinking it. Nobody had ever jumped a hundred thousand years into the future on a time-drive starship before. Theoretically, it could be done safely. But this was the first real test. This was reality. There were probably lots of things that could go wrong. Things we didn't even know about.

The CS
Lifeline
scooped up the time drone
Salvation
with a massive jaw and the drone slid into the launch bay and locked into ship's hard dock. The great double airlock doors slid shut and sealed. The launch bay rapidly filled with air. The interior airlocks banged open and Jason and Apples and I rushed into the bay. An access ramp unfolded itself up against the glowing skin of the bird, and locked. An access door snapped open with a pop. I forced my way in first, scrambling on hands and knees along a dark, narrow crawlspace, past the massive quantum duplicators, past the Q-link, up to the Holo-X transceivers. There, right in the heart of the ship, sitting in a little service chair, surrounded by alien equipment, I should find her. As I entered the service bay from behind it looked as if there was no one in the chair. My heart froze. Then as I squirmed through the narrow opening I saw her, scrunched down in the chair, strapped in, frozen, bent almost double, hugging her little bag across her knees, her face buried in the bag. Alive? Dead? I reached out to touch her, not daring to breathe.

"Millie?"

Her head snapped up, her face devoid of color. "Westo! Westo!" she shrieked. We seized each other. Her glasses went flying. The girl from the past! I didn't think I'd ever been happier than at that very moment. It made up for everything.

Chapter 16
Addicted

"I was so scared," Millie said, "I thought I was going to die for sure. And then when you popped your head up, I thought I'd die of joy. What a trip!" She sat on the commander's bunk, exhausted, her little black traveling bag still in her lap. I had a translation unit clipped to my collar. I wasn't a Holo-X and more, and although my Trib was better now, I'd have to depend on the device until Millie learned Inter.

I had figured I was going to be either court-martialed or given a commendation for bringing Millie back—maybe both, the way the Legion worked. However, the initial reaction was certainly favorable. Commander Alran gave Millie his cabin. It was the grandest one on the CS Lifeline, and it was full of flowers. Lovely bouquets. The crew had done wonders with the flowers from the Lifeline's hydroponics section.

"Welcome to ConFree," I said. "I'm going to take real good care of you, Millie—that I promise." I put an arm around her shoulders, sitting beside her on the bed. It felt so good, holding her as a real live person instead of as a Holo-X.

"Is this a starship?"

"Yes. We're on our way to…where I come from. Your world—Rima 2—is now inconceivably distant, in both space and time."

"And there's no way back?"

"That's right. No way back." Apples had checked out Millie thoroughly. She appeared to be in perfect shape. The time jump had not affected her at all.

"What do you think of your quarters?" I asked.

"Why all the flowers?"

"They're for you—from the crew."

"Really?"

"Yes. For you." She looked around as if she could hardly believe it. I gently took the bag from her lap and put it on my knees. "You can unpack now. What did you bring?"

She took out the little holo of the two of us in the botanical gardens of that vanished world. "I held onto this while I was in the ship," she said. "I was praying to it."

"I guess it worked."

Her whole life was in that bag. A diary, a few other holos, school and medical certificates, a romance novel, a medical handbook, several papers on the plague, nightclothes, undies, blouse, shorts and pants, an alarm chron, a few little washcloths, a little bag with toothbrush, toilet things and makeup, a compact with a mirror. A pitiful little collection of artifacts from the distant past. Not much, to start a new life, a hundred thousand years in the future. But she had something else. She had me.

At first I had thought we'd get by somehow, without getting personal about things. After all, it was almost like a summer romance. I'll introduce her to Jason, I thought. He seems fond of her. We'll let things take their natural course.

But it wasn't that easy. And it wasn't just her. It was me. I was the one who had torn her life to shreds, and ripped her out of her world into the distant future. Me—not Jason.

I removed her glasses. She blinked up at me, dimly. Millie the Mole. Lovely. How could I resist her? We kissed, and the room spun around us. She held on. I could feel her heart thumping. It was wonderful.

"So," I said. "We're getting married. Right?"

"I thought you had someone else—more than one." Her eyes were wet.

"I do. I have two wives, and a child. But I love you, also. I'll introduce you to them. I'm sure they'll love you as well."

"Slow down, Westo. This is too fast for me. You have two wives? Is that legal in your world?"

"Sure. The government normally keeps its snout out of our personal affairs. Unless you're with the Legion—which I am. But I won't be with the Legion forever. We do what we want in ConFree. You can have as many wives—or husbands—as you want, as long as everyone is happy with the arrangements, and the children are taken care of."

"I don't know what to say, Westo. In one breath you ask me to marry you. In another, you say you have two wives already." The tears appeared, trickling down her cheeks. I hated this. All I wanted was to make her happy. Why should that be so damned hard?

"I love you," I said. "I want you. Marry me! It's that simple. Nothing else matters. What do you say? We don't put anything on paper in ConFree, but we pledge our love—and that's worth more than any crap paper from some government."

She found her glasses and put them back on, ignoring the tears, looking at me quizzically. "I don't know," she said. "I need a little time, Westo. You know I love you. I…I…how are you going to treat me?"

I took her glasses off again. She was crying a river of tears.

"I'm going to treat you like an angel from the stars. I'm going to worship you! I am your sword and your shield. No one will hurt you, with me at your side." I gently unbuttoned her blouse. "I'm yours," I said, "and you're mine. Take off your clothes."

"No…the light."

"Never mind the light. I want to see you—all of you. I want to love you. I want to make you mine."

I buried my face in her breasts, lovely full breasts like ripe fruit, the nipples hardening in my mouth. She gasped, and pulled me closer. The bag fell to the deck.

***

"Oh, I look terrible! What can I do?" Millie stood flustered before the mirror, holding her comb. She was clad in a black Legion uniform, bereft of insignia.

"You're beautiful," I said. "Give me that comb." I stood before her, took off her glasses, and combed her hair off to one side. She's definitely got to change that frumpy hair style. And get her eyes lasered. Her face was like fine porcelain. She was lovely. I kissed her on the forehead.

"You look so handsome," she said, pressing the goggles back into place. "What rank are you? Are you an officer?"

"I'm nothing. I'm just a soldier. A foot soldier of God."

"You look like a general!" She straightened out imagined wrinkles on my blacks. "Why does the commander want to see us? Have I done anything wrong?"

"Are you kidding? I told you. You're the Savior. You're our new Goddess. Relax. He's just inviting us to dinner."

"Please show me what to do. I'm so afraid I'll make a fool out of myself."

"Millie—you can eat with your fingers and nobody will say a word. Stop worrying."

"Is this your family?" She paused by the comdesk. I had been looking over the holos in my wallet when she was in the head. Deto!

"That's them."

She picked up the wallet, fascinated by the holos. "They're beautiful," she whispered.

"That's Moontouch. She's from Andrion 2. That's my son Stormdawn. And that's Priestess. She's a Legion girl."

"How can I compare with them? I'm so scared. You can't care about me!" She turned away from the holos.

"Millie, come here." I drew her to me, breathing her lovely scent. She was part of me now—no matter what. Our love was sealed by history. Who did she have here, in this alien place, in this alien time? Who did she have, to hold her hand in the night? Me. She had me.

"Stand by me, Millie," I said. "Stand by my side. I'll be there for you, always. Always, do you hear me? Always!"

***

The Legion thought it appropriate to relocate us to Veronica 2. It had been hardest hit by the White Death, but Millie's information had led to a simple oral fungicide tablet that had been distributed by the billions on Veronica 2 and every other inhabited world in the galaxy. And it stopped the White Death cold. They labelled it Xeno-A. Nobody who took Xeno-A caught the plague. Xeno-A was 100 percent effective.

I thought our reception at the starport was impressive, with a shrieking crowd mobbing the port and gangs of dignitaries crowding in to see Millie, and swarms of news freaks and a sky full of camera probes, and flags and marching bands and the strains of the "Black March" screeching over my flesh. But it was not until they put us on an open E-car for a slow ride into the city that it really hit me, the full extent of what we had done.

More than twenty million people had gathered there in the city, along our route, to welcome us. It was normally a city of two million but was swollen by refugees from the White Death, who had been desperate to escape through the starport. Now they were safe, but had not yet dispersed. They evidently wanted to see us. We rode through that awesome crowd slowly, and it stretched as far as we could see. Millie stood in the center of our group, clutching the handhold, dressed in Legion black, with Tara and me at her side, and Jason and Apples beside us, and Commander Alran behind them. The crowd was hysterical. The roar as we approached was deafening and horrifying. It was like a raging beast, mindless, out of control. They were holding their hands up, moving, weaving, jumping up and down, dancing, shrieking, applauding, going wild. They were ecstatic, and they pressed in, eager to get a closer look. Then I heard the chant—rhythmic, powerful, brutal in its simplicity: MIH-LEE! MIH-LEE! MIH-LEE! MIH-LEE! Twenty million, shouting with all their might. The earth shook. An E-car of news freaks was just ahead of us, recording it all. As I looked into the crowd I noticed something else—the children. Fathers and mothers were holding their children up, above the crowd, to see the Savior. Kids, babies, infants, holding their little arms up, waving at Millie. Entire schools were there too, waving their banners, little boys and girls, freed from certain death, waving their flags—the flags! Millie's picture, on the flags. And suddenly I realized those flags were everywhere—Millie's picture, big old goggles and all, waving from every flag.

The mob broke into the road, forcing us to dead slow.

Thousands reached out to touch our E-car. The security folks were going crazy, leaping up onto the car, trying to keep the crowd at bay. Millie stood there like a statue, one hand raised, tears streaming down her cheeks. My fingers gripped her free hand like a vice. Tara faced the front, her face frozen, her jaw locked shut. Savoring her victory. Total victory, for Tara, for the Legion. Like a biogen, I thought—a terrifying, lifeless biogen. Until I saw a single tear, trickling down her cheek. Salvation, for us all—even Tara is human!

***

"He's a Cyrillian from Dardos, according to his docs," Tara said calmly. She was in her blacks, elegant and relaxed. I was back on Quaba 7, having a quiet chat with the Outvac's Director of Galactic Information. There were only the two of us in the room. It was dark except for the glowing d-screen and a few subdued backdrop lights. I sipped dox, but Tara just glared at the screen. It showed a Cyrillian male, seemingly naked, purplish skin streaming with sweat in the glare of a hot spotlight, his bleeding head crudely shaven. Shadowy figures moved in the background.

"Our info net is a lot better than the System knows. They thought we wouldn't know who he was. We discovered he was a minor criminal with a long string of arrests on Dardos. He wanted to travel to Auraga—a Legion world, dead center of the Crista Cluster. A major transportation hub, by the way. We allowed him to come because we wanted to see what he was up to. This was while you were away, on Chudit. When he arrived we gave him the usual treatment we reserve for Cyrillians. The System calls it racism but since Cyrillians commit crimes at a rate over 800 percent greater than Outworlders, we call it common sense—a concept unfamiliar to the System. It's lucky the Customs folks took a good look at him. One of his teeth was removable. There's a shot." The screen showed a tooth with a tiny compartment hidden inside. A miniscule, roughly spherical-shaped granule was placed beside it.

"That thing was inside the tooth. It's lucky Customs didn't open it. Turns out it was full of plague spores—and they were live."

I put down my dox. The Cyrillian was back on screen, sweating.

"We started paying attention, at that point," Tara continued. "I did a psyprobe myself. He was recruited by someone on Dardos—undoubtedly a cut-out. He was given a great deal of money, a round-trip ticket, the return portion dated a week after his arrival, and was told to open the container in a public restroom in Auraga, and leave it there. Had he done so, we would have had another Legion world infected. And the courier, of course, would have died, along with everybody else."

"I see."

"You once asked me what I was doing on Augusta 6, Wester. I'm now going to tell you."

"Go right ahead."

"I was tracking a Systie agent whom the SIS employed for sensitive clandestine missions. We wanted to know what his business was on Augusta 6. When the O's invaded, of course, all that was instantly forgotten. And when the White Death appeared there, we initially thought it might have had something to do with the O's. But—until now—we had no reason to connect the System to the White Death."

"I see."

"I now believe it possible that Systie agent was carrying plague spores, and his mission was to infect Augusta 6. And that it was just a coincidence that the O's chose that moment to invade. This is the most despicable genocide in galactic history, Wester. It appears that someone was using the White Death as a weapon against ConFree and Omni worlds. They must have created the substance themselves, for that specific purpose. And I suspect the SIS."

"But System worlds were also infected."

"Yes—some of them were. The picture is not yet complete, Wester. That's why you're here. I'd like you to follow up on what we have, and track down and identify the guilty."

"I'm not a cop."

"You are now. I am pleased to announce your promotion to Senior Captain. It's a battlefield commission, Wester, in recognition of your work on Chudit. I'd also like to inform you that you have been transferred permanently to Galactic Information."

"No. I don't…"

"It will be on your terms, Wester. Whatever you want, you get. The Legion needs you, Wester. I need you. Your people need you. We need to find out who did this, and exterminate him—or them. If it's the System, there will be consequences—titanic consequences."

"I'm not a spy."

"You did pretty good on Chudit, Wester. You're exactly what I need."

"You don't know it's the SIS."

"No. That's conjecture. But, in retrospect, it's pretty odd that my target was there, on Augusta, for unknown reasons, when the White Death showed up for the first time. The Cyrillian is the key, Wester. He can lead you back to the source. We'll take whoever's there. We don't care who it is."