Legion Of The Damned - 01 - Legion of the Damned (33 page)

“Did Ayers find you?”

“Yeah. What’s this flag of truce crap?”

“Beats me, sir. Shall we bring her in?”

“Can we see her from here?”

“Yes, sir. Straight out and about thirty feet to the left. Next to the burned-out APC.”

Hoskins accepted the binoculars, felt the cold bite his hands, and zoomed in. The APC had been destroyed on day one. Less than four days ago but it seemed like a month. He panned left, found a snowsuit, and stopped. The woman stood at parade rest with a staff in her right hand. The flag was white and snapped in the breeze. Her hood had been thrown back to expose her face, and he was struck by the fact that she looked pretty, and very, very cold. Hoskins handed the glasses to Matatu and jammed his hands into his pockets.

“How did she contact us?”

“On freq four, sir. She knows radio procedure backwards and forwards.”

“And she claims to be from Worber’s World?”

“That’s affirmative, sir.”

“All right, Marv. Run a body scan on her, bring her in, and tell Ayers to strip-search her. If she’s bent, blow her head off.”

“Yes, sir.”

 

Norwood had just about decided to give up, to turn around and hike back to the waiting Hudathans, when the transmission came over freq 4.

“Stay where you are. An escort will bring you in.”

The snowflakes were falling more thickly now, circling her like butterflies trying to land, pulling the sky down to the ground. That was good because the less she saw of Frio’s tortured surface, the better.

The legionnaires seemed to materialize out of the ground in front of her. They wore snow-white parkas, green berets, and the winged hand and dagger emblem of the famed 2nd REP. Four of them faced outwards, guarding against attack, while a fifth ran a scanner over her entire body.

Norwood stood completely still, controlling the words that wanted to come pouring out, filled with pride. These men and women had held, and held, and held, and were still holding against impossible odds. Stripped of the support they were entitled to, standing against an entire spear, they had held. Oh, how she longed to grab a gun, to stand beside them, to fight a battle she could understand.

The legionnaire with the scanner nodded to the others and made the device disappear.

“All right,” a corporal said. “You’re clean. Follow Baji and be damned sure to put your feet exactly where he does. There are mines all around us.”

Norwood did as she was told, pausing for a second as they passed a Trooper II, its gigantic form spreadeagle in the snow. A shoulder-launched missile had taken the cyborg’s head off. Time had passed, and the heat from the Trooper II’s body had melted the surrounding snow and lowered the creature into a temporary grave. A thin crust of snow had already formed on the cyborg’s chest and would eventually hide it from view.

She was still thinking about the cyborg as they led her past a hastily built barricade, through a maze of sandbags, and up to the installation’s main entrance.

There a sergeant named Ayers took over. She was pleasant but firm and had some legionnaires to back her up. Both were women. They took Norwood into an unheated storage room where she was ordered to strip and grab her ankles. The cavity search was far more humiliating than anything the Hudathans had done to her.

When it was over, Ayers pulled the rubber gloves off, nodded towards her clothing, and said, “Sorry, Colonel. You can get dressed now.”

Norwood struggled to keep her composure, but knew she was blushing, and hated the legionnaires with every fiber of her being.

They led her down some muddy stairs, through a fire door, and into an office. Smoke swirled above her head, drifted towards a makeshift chimney, and disappeared. A fire burned in one corner of the room. She saw a tall, somewhat stooped officer throw a binder on the blaze,
stand, and turn her way. He had a long homely face and inquisitive eyes. Stubble covered his cheeks and he looked tired.

“Colonel Norwood, I believe? My name’s Hoskins. Major Ralph Hoskins, Imperial Legion, 5th REI. Welcome to IMPLEG Outpost 479. Sorry I can’t offer something more in the way of hospitality, but the O club is temporarily closed.”

Norwood grinned in spite of herself. It felt good to be in the presence of a regular human being again. His hand was at least a couple of degrees warmer than hers and guided her towards the fire.

“Sorry about the search, but the geeks are clever, and try new things on us all the time.”

Norwood started to reply but stopped when Hoskins waved a .50 recoilless in her direction.

“One more thing, Colonel. I haven’t got a lot of time to screw around, so tell the truth, or I’ll blow your brains all over the fraxing wall.”

The smile had never left Hoskins’s face, and while Norwood believed every word the officer had said, she liked him nonetheless. She nodded, accepted a seat in front of the fire, and started her story. It took the better part of an hour to tell. All the while Hoskins listened attentively, asked intelligent questions, and stoked the fire.

Norwood told Hoskins everything, right down to the doubts she had about what she was doing, and the possibility that she was a well-intentioned traitor.

Both were silent for a long time afterwards. The legionnaire spoke first.

“Well, I’ll say this much for you, colonel: you’re either one helluva liar or one of the most amazing officers it’s been my pleasure to meet.”

“Thanks, I think.”

Hoskins smiled. “So, here’s a sitrep. I have fifty-six effectives, seven of whom are Trooper IIs, which nearly doubles our firepower but doesn’t make much difference in the long run. The Hudathans can clean our clock anytime they want to, and if it wasn’t for this Poseen-Ka fella, would’ve done so by now. I know it and you know it. Ever hear of a battle called ‘Camerone’?”

Norwood shook her head.

“No? Well, it’s a big deal in the Legion. Sort of Masada, the Alamo, and the Battle of Four Moons all rolled into one. What it boils down to is that this guy named Danjou stumbled into some Mexicans, was outnumbered thousands to one, and refused to surrender. He was killed, as were most of his men, and that’s the way legionnaires are supposed to go.”

Norwood frowned. “Surely there was more. A purpose, a reason, an objective.”

Hoskins shook his head. “Nope. Nothing more than pride, glory, and honor. Danjou and his men died for nothing. And that, my friend, is both the horror and the beauty of it.”

Norwood nodded slowly. “So what are you telling me? That you’ll hold to the end? Die rather than surrender?”

Hoskins shrugged. “I don’t know. You say the Hudathans will accept our surrender. Do you believe them?”

“Yes, I believe Poseen-Ka.”

“But what if he loses his command? What then?”

Norwood looked him in the eye. “I don’t know.”

Hoskins was silent for a moment.

“I have what he wants, or something very close to it.”

Norwood felt her heart beat a tiny bit faster. “You do?”

“Yes. I have a set of orders from IMPNAV Earth, ordering me to withdraw, and another set from Legion headquarters on Algeron, ordering me to stay. The second set arrived just before the navy pulled out. I kept them in case I live long enough to get court-martialed.”

“So,” Norwood said slowly, “we can’t be absolutely sure, but it sounds as if Poseen-Ka is correct, and they’re laying a trap for him. More than that, it sounds as if the Legion disagrees with that strategy, and has mutinied.”

“Exactly,” Hoskins agreed, throwing the remains of his coffee against an already stained picture of the Emperor. “Which leaves me in a rather interesting position.”

“You can die a glorious death, or surrender and hope that Poseen-Ka remains in command.”

“Knowing that he’ll kill thousands, if not millions, of people.”

“Better millions than billions.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah.”

Hoskins stuck out his hand. “I’m with you, Colonel. Here’s hoping that we’re right ... and god help us if we aren’t.”

There is no retreat, but in submission and slavery. Our chains are forged. Their clanking may be heard on the plains of Boston! The war is inevitable—and let it come! I repeat it, sir, let it come!

 

 

 

 

 

Sergi Chien-Chu was naked. The bright lights nearly blinded him. He tried to suck his stomach in but couldn’t. He started to say something, but the technician, an attractive young lady in her twenties, motioned for silence. She was naked too, a fact that threatened to cause an involuntary reaction, and made him blush.

The merchant closed his eyes as the woman dropped to her knees, pulled a pair of IR-sensitive goggles down over her eyes, and aimed a pair of tweezers at his pubic hair.

Had Chien-Chu known, or even dreamed, that participation in the Cabal would require this level of personal sacrifice, he would have refused to join. But it was too late now.

Even microbots generate warmth and this one appeared as a luminescent yellow dot against the light green of Chien-Chu’s body heat. The technician held the merchant’s penis out of the way, closed her electronic forceps around the tiny machine, and removed it from the forest of gray and black pubic hair. She stood and held the offending machine up to the light.

In spite of the fact that the robot was smaller than a piece of lint and almost invisible to the naked eye, it was capable of recording and retransmitting conversations up to fifty feet away. How it had found its way into his pubic hair he had no idea. There was little doubt about
who
had put it there, however. The Emperor’s security apparatus was legendary, and given the evidence now before his eyes, could literally reach anywhere.

“You can talk now. The forceps and the equipment they’re connected to function as a transducer. The bug thinks you’re watching a routine biz vid on changes in the precious metals markets.”

“Great,” Chien-Chu said, fighting to keep his belly in. “May I dress now?”

The technician placed the microbot, one of three she had found on and about Chien-Chu’s person, into a specially designed black box and sealed the lid. She had a rather nicely proportioned posterior and the merchant found it hard to ignore.

“Yes, a robe has been provided for your comfort. But there’s no point in putting your clothes on, since I will reintroduce the microbots as you leave. The people who put them there would be suspicious otherwise and double their efforts to keep an eye on your activities.”

Chien-Chu sighed and reached for the robe. There had been a time when he looked forward to getting naked with attractive young women but the circumstances had been considerably different.

The robe was white, with dusty blue vertical stripes, and fit as though it had been made just for him, which knowing Madam Dasser it probably had. This was no gathering of wild-eyed revolutionaries, but a meeting of influential people, all of whom expected and were used to having the very best. The merchant pulled the robe on, tied the belt around his considerable waist, and turned towards the young woman. She had a wonderful pair of breasts.

“Thank you for the help.”

The woman smiled brightly as if nothing could be more normal. “Think nothing of it. It was my pleasure.”

Chien-Chu doubted that, but felt no desire to debate the point, and headed for the door. He was almost there when she spoke again.

“Mr. Chien-Chu?”

He turned. “Yes?”

“You might want to shave your pubic hair. Especially if you plan to do this sort of thing on a frequent basis. It makes the bugs easier to find.”

The merchant nodded, offered what he hoped was an appreciative smile, and left the room.

The country villa, for that was what it appeared to be, was beautiful, if somewhat improbable. Though brought by limo, and unable to see out through darkened windows, the merchant had been allowed to keep his wrist term and knew that the ride had been far too short to reach the city limits, much less the country. Still, the whitewashed walls, earthen-tile floors, luxuriant plants, and high-vaulted ceilings were everything that a villa should be and more. The fact that the windows were fake, and looked out on scenery that was thousands of miles away, did nothing to lessen the effect
. The hall carried him to a short flight of stairs and down into a sitting area, filled with people. The bamboo furniture had overstuffed cushions and a floral motif. He was the last person to arrive and the ot
hers rose to greet him. All wore robes similar to his. Madam Dasser performed the introductions.

“Hello, Sergi, I’m so glad you could make it! You know Ari Goss? Of Goss Shipping? And Zorana Zikos, of Zikos Manufacturing?”

The list went on and on, until Chien-Chu had met or been reintroduced to about thirty people, all of whom were movers and shakers, and many of whom came as a complete surprise.

Seeing his coconspirators, and knowing the risks they had taken to be there, did a great deal to improve the merchant’s morale. Like him, most of them had made a pretty penny from the status quo and were unlikely to support change for change’s sake. No, these were hardheaded business people, out to protect their own interests, yes, but capable of looking to the greater good as well. Or so he hoped.

With the introductions complete they all took their seats. Madam Dasser allowed her eyes to roam the room.

“Before we begin, I’d like to take a moment to tell Sergi how sorry I was to hear about the death of his son. The price of victory was terribly high, but it’s the only one we have so far, and it shines like a beacon in a sea of darkness. Sergi, I’m sure that everyone here shares in your grief and is willing to help. You have only to ask.”