Cross of the Legion (36 page)

Sassy just kept staring at him, almost in shock.

"So can it get us close to the control room?" Psycho asked.

"What is it going to do?" She whispered it, ashen faced and totally serious for the first time.

"It's just a…kind of a diversion. We want to take control of the power station. Or raise hell trying to do so."

"A diversion."

"Yeah. To draw attention. See, if we threaten the reactors, all the security folks in town will show up, highly incensed."

"It's serious."

"Dead serious." Psycho smiled.

"And this is a…diversion. Threatening to blow up the base and kill everyone in it—right? What's the main event, for God's sake?"

"Well…that's the point. The main event insures we don't have to do anything drastic with the reactors. But if we threaten the reactors, we keep the security forces busy, and our buddies can do their thing. If they succeed, we're gone. And nothing happens with the reactors."

"Is it saying this is a suicide mission?"

"Only if it has to be."

"And what if its friends fail, in whatever they have to do? What then?"

"We do what we have to do, Sassy. We're no hero. But if we have to die, we die."

"It must be crazy to think we'd help it."

"If it helps us, we can get in, do what has to be done, and get out—alive. And nobody dies. If it doesn't help us, a lot of people are gong to die. Including me. And maybe you."

"Did it really mean it, asking us to come with it—afterwards?"

"Never been more serious, Sassy. We've been looking for it—all our life. We've got a good escape plan outta here. A friend of mine insisted on it. No reason one more couldn't come along. It'd look good in black. And our kids…they'd be beautiful."

"And if we say no?"

"We'll zap it with a shockrod and kiss it goodnight—then try to get in on our own."

"It'll never make it."

"Running out of time, Sassy. Never proposed marriage before. Probably a silly move. But we mean it. We mean it sincerely. What does it say?"

"Can we ask its real name first?"

"Psycho. Our real name is Psycho."

"Psycho, we accept its proposal of marriage. It's a first for me, too. Doesn't it want to know our name?"

"No. Sassy will do for now. Can it get us near the control room?"

"We can get it inside the control room, honey. Via the toilets. Promise it's not going to actually blow up the base? We've got some friends here."

"It's just a diversion, Sassy. Promise."

"Mrs. Psycho. Hmm…that sounds…unusual. Well, we're nuts—but here goes. Follow us."

Psycho sighed with relief. Sassy's ops plan sounded a lot more promising than Snow Leopard's. Psycho wasn't sure he was going to get out of this one alive. If the guys failed to terminate King Rat, Psycho was going to run the reactors right into critical, and nuke the base and everyone in it. Chances of escape were rather low. It would probably be best not to mention that to Sassy.

Chapter 27
Showtime

"Let me see that wound," Millina said, loosening the crude bandage around Valkyrie's calf. They were huddled in almost total darkness between two cold, oily cenite walls. The inner wall was a vertical circular tube, seemingly inaccessible. The outer wall encircled it, offering them temporary protection from their pursuers.

"Damn. It really hurts." Valkyrie's face was streaked with icy sweat.

"Pain is good for you," Millina replied. "Sorry we have no mags." She did not look much better. Her face was a cold green and her uniform was splattered with blood, both white and red.

"Use the ladders," Snow Leopard whispered to them. "Start moving downwards!"

"Tenners. Just a frac." Millina re-tied the bandage. "You'll be fine, Legion. Just a scratch. Think you can get down a ladder?"

Valkyrie struggled to her feet. Her head spun. They were getting closer. They might even make it! They were inside the access tube that concealed and protected KCA's escape tube. It was used by the techs and work crews who insured the one-man sub could blast its way up the tube and escape to the sea in instants, if necessary. KCA had it all figured out. But Millina and Valkyrie were about to give him one nasty surprise, should he choose to bolt.

Millina paused at an open panel on the grilled cenite floor plate. A ladder ran vertically down the outer tube. A faint light flickered below. Millina grasped the ladder.

"Let's go, Legion. A few levels down, then it gets interesting."

***

"Hold that wrench. Scut!" Millina spun another wrench around, loosening the last large bolt in the access panel in the wall. They were almost in! Valkyrie held her wrench down with the full weight of her body. They were sitting in a disorderly pile of greasy tools they had hauled out of a nearby tool locker. A faint light from the locker lit the scene. They did not think it wise to hit the working lights.

The bolt popped out and the wrench snapped out of Valkyrie's hands as the heavy cenite panel crashed to the deck, narrowly missing her legs.

"We're in, One! Deadman!" Valkyrie shouted in glee. Millina stuck her head into the darkened tube. A cold wet wind was blowing upwards, an icy spray soothing her hot face. A faint roar assailed her ears. The interior of the tube glistened with slick. Pipes and wires ran down the walls. Two great vertical nuke-assisted launch catapults were built into the walls of the tube. She spotted the cenite guide grooves where the mini-sub would shoot up the tube like a great bullet. And, far below, way down in Level X, Millina thought she could see the top of the sub itself, cocooned by the tube—nice and comfy. The tube was not that wide—just big enough for the sub.

A single personnel ladder was built into the inner wall. It looked slippery, fragile, and scary. It was a long drop.

"Showtime, Legion. Hope you're not afraid of heights. Get those headlamps. Let's go!"

"We're going to make it."

"Damned right we are!"

***

"Is he all right?" Priestess asked. Dragon and Priestess dragged the unconscious laborer into a dark, oily corner of the warehouse, behind a line of E-vans.

"I think so." Dragon had dropped the Outworlder with one kick to the head. The warehouse was otherwise deserted—dark and hushed, piled high with goods.

"Thank God," Priestess replied. She hated killing Outworlders. Dragon cautiously opened the door of one of the E-vans.

"One—we're ready."

"Tenners, Dragon, Priestess, proceed. Take your time."

"How're the others doing?"

"Fine so far. Don't worry about them. Just get in that van." Dragon took the controls and Priestess slipped in beside him. The engine came to life and the little craft lifted gently off the floor, floating on a thick cushion of air.

"This is where the games stop," Dragon said, totally calm. He was dressed in a dark brown worker's uniform.

"I'm ready," Priestess replied. She was clad in civilian garb, a silky sleeveless blouse and loose black pants.

"Right up the middle," Dragon said. "No more skulkin' around!" He guided the van close to the warehouse door and a gate creaked up, revealing a wide corridor with aircar sensors in the center. Dragon turned onto the road and proceeded at slow speed.

Right up the middle! There weren't many entrances to Level X, KCA's personal office and residential complex. Level X was actually a great bell-shaped sealed dome with four levels. It was in the heart of the base, but protected by a wide airspace which could be flooded in an emergency. There were only a few entrances that bridged the airspace moat—the main gate, the supply gate, and several smaller entrances for service personnel. Loaded E-vans could deliver their cargo through the supply gate, penetrating right into X over the airspace bridge—but only with the correct ID. Dragon and Priestess did not have the correct ID. Their E-van would be stopped at the first guard post, and if their ID was checked there, they'd never make it to the second guard post, where a cenite grill barred further progress over the airspace bridge.

Dragon and Priestess headed for the supply gate. One had confirmed that KCA was home, and that was all the motivation Dragon and Priestess needed.

They glided serenely into a vehicular tube that circled higher and higher around the base. Traffic was sparse. A few workers plodded along a pedestrian walkway, blowing whistles and waving flags. They flashed past frozen images.

"That's it—on the left," Snow Leopard said. They could see it, a wide, open driveway with a single horizontal metal pole blocking the road to prevent entry until the guards did the ID check. Four biogen girls, in silky white—Arcangels. Four! There should have been only two! Dragon gunned it.

"Death!" Dragon shouted, his face cold and hard.

"Death!" Priestess answered, her eyes gleaming, one hand on the door handle.

The E-van rocketed off the approach road and took the security pole off its mounting with a tremendous crack, the pole flying, the van shuddering and spinning around like a toy, all the way to the second guard post where a male Mocain in DefCorps khaki leaped aside and an Arcangel biogen dived for cover. The van struck the cenite grill over the inner gate with a bang and careened away, coming to rest at a crazy angle as the engine cut.

Dragon and Priestess popped out of opposite sides of the van, doors flying, the Mocain getting to his feet, Dragon launching himself like an arrow, an explosive flying right spear kick, catching the Mocain in the neck, dropping him instantly. Priestess was on the biogen girl by the inner gate, forward snap kick to the face just as the girl was getting up. The force of the kick snapped her whole body back, but Priestess knew she'd be up in an instant. The inner gate! They were so close! The lever—two more Arcangels leaped over the van shouting war cries, whirling shockrods like clubs, another two on the other side of the van going after Dragon. Priestess spun around and nailed Biogen 2 with a vicious roundhouse right kick to the head. She bounced off the other girl on her way down and Priestess attacked Biogen 3 with right and left crosses that connected on her face, and a forward left snap kick that caught her in the stomach. Now Biogen 1 was back, shrieking into her tacmod, whirling her shockrod. Biogens! They would have to terminate them quickly, or they'd never get the gate open. Priestess charged in under her guard, knocking the Arcangel off her feet, smashing the live shockrod to the deck, tearing at the angel wire in an attempt to get it around the biogen's neck. Biogen 1 kicked her off like a wild horse throwing a rider. Priestess landed on her back and scrambled to her feet. Three Arcwhites now came at her. Dragon was suddenly there, landing like a great cat right in their path. A left, right, so fast—one biogen crashed to the deck. A flying kick, flashing like lightning, blasting another biogen off her feet. A perfect left side snap, incredibly powerful, dropping the third biogen . Dragon was poised perfectly, in ready stance.

The Mocain, back, furious, red face, eyes bulging, shockrod crackling. Two more biogens, limping, charging. Priestess tackled the Mocain headfirst, leaping right at him, snapping a hard right punch to his groin, the shockrod blasting her to the ground with the falling Mocain, white hot agony ripping over her back, flesh burning, Priestess screaming, the Mocain screaming as they wrestled together in joint torment on the floor. Priestess spotted a shockrod lying nearby and snatched it, kicking away from the Mocain. She got a quick glimpse of Dragon still downing biogens, backfist to an Arcangel's lovely face, a right cross to another, driving them both down, right snap kick to a third one, perfect form, connecting to the chest, lifting her right off her feet.

But there were more biogen girls—more! Arcangels in white and security girls in red—and males, Outworlders and Cyrillians, also in red, all armed with shockrods, swarming over and around the crippled van. Deto! Priestess exploded to her feet and charged, screaming, slashing with the shockrod, biogens crackling and falling, an Outworlder flashing with electricity, hair standing on end, semi roundhouse right kick to an Arcangel, right in the face—but they kept coming!

Dragon fought like a machine, totally mindless, technically perfect, roundhouse kick, Arcangel down; roundhouse kick, security biogen down; left drop snap to a leg, Arcangel down, broken leg; right side snap, Cyrillian down; roundhouse again, two biogens down; left right left right punches, Arcangel collapsing; head pull, knee to the face, Arcwhite down; semi roundhouse right, Arcangel down; left backfist, Mocain down; head pull, double knee strike to the ribs, security Cyrillian collapsing; right snap kick, biogen down; and then a shockrod scored, snapping all over Dragon's body, dropping him, the wolves all over him now, Priestess still fighting, right cross to a biogen, left…a tremendous kick caught Priestess in the side, lifting her off her feet, forcing the breath from her lungs, going down, another blast of electric agony ripping over her skin like hot razors slicing her open and suddenly she was on the floor and a whole squad of biogens were striking at her with the shockrods and it was all fading to red.

***

"On your knees, subs!" The guards forced Dragon and Priestess onto the cold metal floor. A whole squad of Arcangels poked at them with shockrods humming on standby. Cenite cuffs were clamped tightly around their ankles and wrists, their arms cuffed behind them. This was a detention center, dark except for spotlights focused on them, dazzling their eyes. Dragon and Priestess were battered and bruised and burnt. Priestess had a bleeding lip. Her silky blouse was hanging in shreds, revealing her breasts.

"Attention! VIPs are here! Restrain prisoners!" An Arcangel grasped a handful of Dragon's hair and touched his neck with the tip of a shockrod. The low buzz of the weapon, even on standby, sent an eerie prickle over Dragon's skin. One touch of the trigger would send him crashing to the deck. Another Arcangel stood behind Priestess, doing the same.

The metal doors hissed open. A crowd of people, many of them children, bustled into the small room, all talking at once.

"Are these them? Look—by the Leader!"

"Filthy scum! What do you want, sub! What are you doing here?" A boy, a midschooler, clad in silky white. He sounded scared.

"Stand back—let us see! Aah…look!"

"What do they…"

"You! Who are you? Why did you attempt to break into the Supreme Leader's residence! Are you insane?" An Arcwhite, barely out of puberty, speaking loudly to cover his fear, holding a shockrod before him like a talisman to ward off evil. Dragon was an awful sight—terrifying, covered with sweat and blood, his eyes burning with hatred.

"Yes, he is insane, to think he could have succeeded. Answer the question, sub! And the slut—what part did she play?" Another Arcwhite, a little older, pale arrogant face, wispy blond hair. Dragon did not answer.

The children, suddenly quiet, stood aside for two adult males who entered the cell without a word. A large bull Mocain, bald head, heavily muscled, earrings, SIS uniform—a general's star on one collar. The other was clad in white silk, no insignia, darkish skin, clean shaven, black curly hair, dark eyes. He could have been an Outworlder or, possibly, a light-skinned Cyrillian. A sleek Orman civilian followed close behind them. The Arcangels braced at attention.

The one in white silk came forward to look Dragon over without a word, his hands clasped casually behind his back, holding a shockrod. He observed Dragon closely, hooded eyes flickering faintly. Dragon glared back at him. There was a faint wisp of cologne. Dragon knew exactly who this man was.They must be inside Level X!

The man in white turned his attention to Priestess, staring at her like a snake about to ingest a bird. He seemed interested in her breasts, brushing the torn blouse aside with his shockrod to examine them. Then he turned back to Dragon.

"Take off his shirt," he commanded. The Arcangels ripped Dragon's shirt off, exposing his wiry, hard muscles and deeply tanned skin, scarred like leather with a bewildering assortment of old wounds, bruises and healed puncture marks.

"Let us see his hands." The Arcangels forced Dragon's head to the floor while wrenching his manacled hands around for the visitor to see. He nodded, apparently satisfied, and the biogens let Dragon's head come up again.

"These are soldiers of the Legion, General," the man in white said quietly. "Look carefully at the girl's breasts. See those faint scars? That's xmax. And the male—he's been through a lot. Had death faces on his knuckles. They've been lasered off."

"Soldiers of the Legion!" The Mocain general was stunned.

"But how did they get here?" The Orman spoke for the first time. He sounded genuinely shocked.

"Are we still having communication problems?" the man in white asked.

"Yes sir," the general replied. "It's getting worse!"

"And those VS—and the Mocain female—still loose?"

"Yes sir. We're closing on them!"

"General. I am not impressed with this demonstration of the efficiency of my personal security forces. These two are professional killers—and they almost made it into my personal quarters."