Legion Of The Damned - 01 - Legion of the Damned (31 page)

“I was thinking about you, how beautiful you are, and how much I love you.”

Her head jerked his way. “You musn’t say such things. They are—how do you say?—inappropriate.”

“Why? They fill my heart and beg to be said.”

“You are surprisingly expressive for a warrior. Are all humans so?”

Booly followed her through a narrow place in the trail and caught up again. “No, and neither am I. Not until I met you, that is.”

Windsweet was silent for a moment. “I know it is wrong, and I will regret saying it, but I love you as well.”

Booly felt his heart soar towards the stars that twinkled above and come crashing to the ground. She loved him and he could not stay. Both things were true and in conflict with each other. He wanted to talk to her about it, wanted to explain, but just then the path opened into a small valley.

The legionnaire saw the entry shafts typical of a Naa village, but realized that this one was smaller than Hardman’s and a little more exposed. Flames leaped upwards from the ceremonial fire pit located at the village’s center and backlit the fifty or sixty Naa who had gathered around its warmth. Before the flames died down again, the legionnaire saw something that made his blood run cold. A tripod had been erected over the fire pit, and something hung from that tripod, something that jerked and twisted in an effort to avoid the flames below it. He spoke and the words were Naa.

“Where are we? What are they doing?”

Windsweet looked at her father. He gestured with the torch. “Go ahead. Tell him.”

Windsweet’s expression was wooden, as if she had strong feelings but was struggling to hold them back. “They call this village ‘Windswept,’ because of the way that the wind swoops down from the hills, and Ridelong Surekill rules here as chief.”

Booly absorbed that, knowing that Surekill had no affection for him, wondering as to the purpose of the visit.

“And the thing that hangs over the fire?”

Windsweet looked away. “There are ways, ancient ways, mostly forgotten. Many think they should be left to the past but some would bring them back.”

The legionnaire started to speak, but stopped when Windsweet brought her hand to her mouth and touched her lips.

Warriors appeared from the dark and shouted greetings to Hardman, Windsweet, and Shootstraight. Surekill appeared, striding out of the darkness, placing an arm around Windsweet’s shoulders. She frowned but allowed the arm to remain where it was.

The chieftain was in fine form, relishing his role as host and determined to make the most of it. “Wayfar! Movefast! Windsweet! Welcome to our village. Come, refreshments are waiting, and a dance performance like none you’ve seen before!”

Booly found himself swept along in the crowd, and while not treated to refreshments, occupied a place next to Surekill in front of the fire. Windsweet sat to the chieftain’s left. Doothskin rugs had been spread for their comfort, incense hung heavy in the air, and firelight flickered in a dozen sets of eyes.

The thing, still suspended over the fire, squirmed and whimpered pitifully as the fire reached up to lick at the lowest portions of its anatomy.

“You see?” Surekill asked. “Just as I promised. A dance performance like none you’ve seen before!” The chieftain laughed, as did many of his warriors, but Hardman and Windsweet were silent.

The legionnaire had been allowed to keep some of the more harmless items of his gear. He felt for the flashlight, pulled it from a pocket, and turned it on. The thing was suspended in a wire net. It was doubled over, and therefore difficult to see, but Booly was able to make out leathery gray skin, a sauroid face, and a pair of fear-filled eyes. They blinked then closed as the smoke slid around them. Words hissed out of the thing’s frog-like mouth and Booly realized that it was sentient. He spoke without thinking and realized that the others had been waiting for him to do so.

“What is it?”

“It calls itself a ‘Hudathan,’” Surekill answered pleasantly. “A warrior named Ryber Hysook-Da, to be exact. He claims the status of subchief and came seeking an alliance with the Naa.”

Booly looked up to where the Hudathan emissary swung over the fire. He’d met some aliens, and seen pictures of many more, but never one like this. “And you said no.”

“Of course,” Surekill replied matter-of-factly. “We have no need for allies. The Legion will fall to us ... and to us alone.”

The legionnaire looked Surekill in the eye and gestured towards the Hudathan. There was a void where his stomach should have been. “It wanted you to join an alliance against the human empire?”

Surekill spoke as to a cub. “Yes, human. That’s what I said. The Hudathan claims that his race attacked yours, destroyed one of your most important planets, and will consume your entire empire. You were unaware of this?”

Booly forgot where he was and shook his head. A planet destroyed? What the hell was going on? The Emperor would fight—that went without saying—and the Legion would lead the way. He had to escape, had to make it back, had to join his unit. Surekill was waiting, and anger had gathered behind his eyes.

“This is news to me. I have never heard of the Hudathans, much less a war. It must have started very recently.”

“Yes,” Surekill said. “That agrees with what the smelly one told us. Now, seeing that the Hudathan is an enemy of your people, perhaps you would like the honor of lowering him into the pit?”

Hardman had been silent up until now. He cleared his throat, knowing that Surekill was likely to resent his words and take issue with them. He looked for and found encouragement in his daughter’s eyes.

“Are you sure this is a good idea? The question of an alliance should rightfully go before the council of chiefs, and if you take it upon yourself to kill the alien, they will resent it.”

Surekill wanted to hurl words at Hardman, wanted to say, “They? Or you? Which is it, old man? Which would resent my leadership more?” But he didn’t. Nor was there a need to do so. He had anticipated the situation and made a plan to deal with it. He smiled disarmingly and did his best to sound reasonable.

“An excellent point, Wayfar. I admit to being a bit hasty at times, and ...”

It was at that point that one of Surekill’s most trusted warriors, Nevermiss Rockthrow, cut the rope that held the net aloft. Ryber Hysook-Da screamed as he fell into the pit, and screamed, and screamed, and screamed. His last thoughts were of how things should have been. This was not the way he had planned to die.

Words can be as lethal as bullets. Choose them carefully, aim them well, and use them sparingly.

 

 

 

 

 

The courier was little more than a pile of twisted metal. Bullet holes made a dotted line across a stubby wing. A gash, large enough for War Commander Niman Poseen-Ka to stick his arm through, marked the place where a piece of free-floating debris had hit the fuselage. Another hole, still plugged by a defective missile, signaled what should have been a death blow. The weapon had been disarmed and torches flared as technicians worked to remove it.

Once assigned to the battleship
World Taker
, the courier had survived the destruction of its mother ship and made its way to the main fleet, because, unlike fighters and troop carriers, couriers were equipped with hyperspace drives and were capable of interstellar travel.

Poseen-Ka circled the vessel, careful to step over a multiplicity of tools, hoses, and loose parts. His hands were clasped behind his back, his head was tilted back as far as it would go, and his eyes probed the wreck like lasers.

His aide, a junior officer named Ikna Kona-Sa, did likewise, walking the same way that his superior did, mimicking his mannerisms. Poseen-Ka was unaware of this, just as he was largely unaware of the landing bay itself or the ship that it was part of. His attention was on the scout and the news that had arrived with it.

The fact that the pilot had managed to ram the crippled ship through hyperspace, find the fleet, and land was absolutely amazing. Yes, the flight officer would receive the highest honors that the Hudathan military could bestow upon him, in spite of the fact that he had brought bad news rather than good.

It seemed that Spear Three, under the command of Ikor Niber-Ba, had been attacked and completely destroyed. It was terrible ne
ws. He should have been sad, angry, anything but satisfied. Yet the word “satisfaction” best described the way he felt.

The war against the humans had been
too
pat,
too
easy. Where others had seen victory he had seen the threat of defeat. There is, after all, a difference between
winning
a victory and gaining one through default. That was what the Hudathan forces had managed to accomplish so far. Because in spite of the often heroic resistance offered by military units left behind, and civilians as well, their navy had refused to engage in anything more than a skirmish or two. Why?

It could mean that the humans were weaker than they appeared, and would surrender their empire one system at a time, or, and Poseen-Ka considered this possibility more likely, that they had sacrificed some of their less important holdings in order to buy time. Time that would allow them to consolidate their forces and prepare their own Intaka, which, coming as a surprise, would be all the more powerful. That was the source of Poseen-Ka’s satisfaction. The loss of Spear Three had clearly demonstrated that the humans
could
fight,
would
fight, if given the right situation, and
were extremely dangerous when they did so. Especially considering that Niber-Ba had attacked what was primarily a civilian target and lost his entire command.

But that was
his
interpretation of the facts,
his
analysis of the situation, and others would sit in judgment of him: individuals such as his superior, Grand Marshal Pem-Da, his chief of staff, Lance Commander Moder-Ta, and yes, the human known as Baldwin, who in spite of his nonexistent rank had the power to influence minds by virtue of who and what he was.

All had their own hopes, fears, and motivations, motivations not necessarily aligned with his and therefore threatening. The destruction of Spear Three would present them with the perfect opportunity to replace him with someone more to their liking, since a loss of that magnitude necessitated a court of inquiry.

They were routine affairs for the most part ... but not always. No, there were the cases of incompetence that such investigations had been designed to ferret out, the situations in which bad luck and the friction of war had conspired to ruin someone’s career, or worse, times when politics entered the picture, and routine investigations were used to remove officers with unpopular opinions.

Given the fact that Poseen-Ka had counseled patience and stalled for time, when many wanted to leap down the enemy’s throat, he was vulnerable to criticism.

The court would point out that Niber-Ba had failed to administer the Intaka. and by not doing so, had given the humans the opportunity to prepare a counterattack. The similarity between the Dwarfs approach and his own was too clear to deny. Had his subordinate knowingly followed his example? And picked the wrong moment to do so? Or had
he
erred by giving command of Spear Three to an officer so much l
ike himself? Had he made other mistakes as well? Mistakes that were waiting to make themselves known.

Poseen-Ka felt himself start the slide down towards depression. No! He pushed the feelings away. To doubt, to fear, to become entangled in all the possibilities, would lead to his defeat as surely as a bullet through the head.

No, he must do something positive, find evidence that his strategy was correct, and present that evidence to his superiors.

Poseen-Ka tore his eyes off the wreck, waved to his aide, and headed for the lock. The human female had proven herself useful once before. She might again.

 

Colonel Natalie Norwood had just finished doing her thirty push-ups and was about to do some deep knee bends when the door to her cell vanished into the overhead. A Hudathan filled the entryway. Bodyguards stood behind him. There was no mistaking the fact that the visitor was War Commander Niman Poseen-Ka himself.

Alarmed but determined not to show it, Norwood folded her arms. She was dressed, thank god, but something less than presentable. Not that it mattered, since Poseen-Ka had no way to know if she was presentable or not.

“Don’t you people ever knock?”

Words formed on the Hudathan’s tongue and waited to be said. They were stem and would put the prisoner in her place. He held them back. He needed the human’s cooperation, and interpersonal conflict was an unlikely way to achieve it.

“I am sorry. Your norms are strange to me and I forgot.”

Surprised by the war commander’s apology, and a bit taken aback, Norwood gestured for him to enter. The Hudathan’s bodyguards started to follow but he waved them back.

Poseen-Ka looked around, saw the wire mesh that had been installed to keep the human out of the ductwork, and sat on the fold-down bunk. It creaked under his considerable weight.

“You know where we are?” he asked.

“In orbit around a planet called Frio II.”

“That is correct. And what, if anything, do you know about the fighting here?”

Norwood shrugged. Her voice was tight with emotion. “You arrived, found the place largely undefended, and went to work on exterminating the population. There were thousands of ships in orbit, refugees from planets you had already taken, and they were easy meat for your fighters. Your pilots used them for target practice, popping them like inflatable toys, laughing while they died.