March of the Legion (7 page)

"You're lying!" Snow Leopard appeared genuinely shocked.

"Oh, yes—this would be a good time to lie, wouldn't it, one lie and you die. No, we're not lying."

"Explain!"

"The highest levels of ConFree have known about our efforts for at least a decade. We were briefed on that when they gave us the mission. A delegate from ConFree even visited STRATCOM for a briefing—we briefed it ourself!"

"That's insane! We knew nothing of this!"

"Of course not! It was a sensitive matter. Why should ConFree brief the Legion? They probably don't trust the Legion—would it brief a soldier about a sensitive diplomatic and political secret such as this? Of course not! So don't be so damned self-righteous! Its own people knew about this, and approved, and kept the secret—otherwise the entire inhabited galaxy would know about it! The Legion has a very efficient proprop apparatus."

"I don't believe it, One," I said. I was stunned by the Systie's claim. "ConFree wouldn't do that. Why would they do that?" Even as I spoke, I knew the Systie was telling the truth. I was horrified—my whole world was falling apart.

We fought for ConFree—we died for ConFree. Why would they do that?

"I don't believe it either," Snow Leopard replied quietly.

"One!" It was Redhawk. The assault doors to the aircar were wide open. Redhawk was in the pilot's seat; Priestess was leaning over him. The instrument panel was aglow with green lights. A faint, eerie whine grew in intensity to a dull, throaty hum. The aircar was alive! A chill ran over my flesh.

"Aircar functional," Redhawk reported. "Fully charged, fully armed. All combat systems report ready status. We are prepped for launch. Awaiting your orders."

Snow Leopard stood up. The Systie cautiously got up as well, hypnotized by the aircar. "It isn't going out there in that thing, is it? They'll swat it in a frac. It won't last an instant!"

"Shut down!" Snow Leopard snapped. "Three, escort the prisoner into the aircar and board. Five, board. We're going to go out there and attack whatever we find." I pointed the barrel of my E at the Systie's face and he moved in slow motion to the aircar. Now it was clear—Snow Leopard had made up his mind. We were going to die, just as the Second had said, for the Legion. A whirlwind of conflicting emotions shot through my heart. But I knew, no matter what, I would do exactly as Beta One said.

"We can't oppose them," the Systie said. "It's not possible! Believe us! We know them better than it!"

"Shut up or I'll kill you," I threatened him. I was angry. I didn't want this Systie worm to witness our deaths.

"His opinions are just what you'd expect," Psycho commented acidly, "from somebody who has no balls." We boarded the aircar. Psycho took the left door, I took the right. Priestess found a seat behind Redhawk. The Systie sat near me, sweating. We were waiting for Snow Leopard.

Snow Leopard stood several mikes away from the car, his back to us. His helmet was still hooked to his U-belt. He held his E in one hand. He appeared to be looking around. His gaze wandered up to the ceiling, then around the walls. We waited. Redhawk looked back at us from the pilot's seat, gave us his craziest grin, and locked on his helmet. The car was purring like a cat. I snapped my helmet on and the screens came up on my faceplate. I checked my E—all set. A & A, armored and armed—Beta was ready for its last mission. I felt fear and sorrow and a dull, aching regret. All I really wanted was to live with Priestess, forever and ever and ever, someplace where nobody could find us. But it was not to be. We were both soldiers of the Legion, and the Legion needed us.

What was Snow Leopard up to? He looked back at us once, his face cold and troubled. Then he turned and took a step away from us, switching his E to the other hand.

"What's the story with One?" Psycho asked me on private.

"Three, what's Snow Leopard doing?" Priestess was also on private to me, one arm over her seatback, staring fixedly at Snow Leopard.

"Don't know, guys," I responded.

"Ask him," Priestess urged me. She knew I was closer to Snow Leopard than anyone else. He was still standing there, helmetless, motionless, facing away from us. It was not like him. I slipped out of my seat and jumped out of the aircar to the deck. One did not stir. I walked over to him.

"Snow Leopard," I whispered on private. "What's up?" He snapped his head around to face me. He was pale as death and his eyes were wet. Cold sweat beaded his forehead. He was breathing hard. He gasped something that I did not catch.

"What?"

"We're not going," he hissed.

"We're not going?" I echoed in disbelief.

He snapped his head away from me, looking wildly around the hanger again. "We're not going," he repeated. "Warhound is out there. I know he is. We're not going." He was gripping his E tightly.

"Warhound? Warhound is out there? How do you know?"

"Warhound is out there. I know it. I know it! We're not going! We're going to find Warhound. Everybody out of the car!" He whipped around, facing the aircar. "Everybody out! We're not going! No! No! Redhawk, you stay with the aircar. Priestess, you stay with Redhawk. Psycho, secure the prisoner, then join us. Priestess, kill the Systie if necessary. The three of you in the aircar—Redhawk, Priestess, Systie—wait for us. Psycho, Thinker, come with me. We're going to find Warhound! We're not coming back without him! Priestess, you're in command here. If you're discovered, launch the aircar and escape. Otherwise, wait for our return."

Psycho jumped off the aircar, his Manlink ready for action. "Creep secured, sir!" He sounded perfectly content.

Snow Leopard took his helmet off his U-belt and slipped it over his head and locked it on.

"Beta," he said, "On me." He grasped his E and moved toward the door where we had bagged the Systie. I turned to look back at the aircar. Priestess raised a hand in farewell. I raised my fist.

"Goodbye, Priestess," I said on private. "Wait for me."

"I'll wait," she promised. "You hurry back, Thinker." I hastened to catch up to Snow Leopard and Psycho. Snow Leopard had the door open already. We were off—three fools, back on Atom's Road. It doesn't matter, I told myself. It doesn't matter. A million years from now nobody will care what we did, or what we didn't do. But for us there was really no choice, no choice at all. Warhound was out there, One said, and we were going to find him. That was all that mattered to us.

###

"Energy," Sweety whispered to me. Icy futures, in my veins. The whole world was mine, mine to shoot. I could feel it on my skin, inside the A-suit. I was magman—cruising, cold and free. We were in the O starport, ready to die. It was dark, and we waded through water up to our chests, hot steaming water covered with a luminous scum. The rad count was off the scale—we swam in Death's hot breath. It was ob the installation had been crushed by our antimats and by the lava lake. So far we had not had to deal with the lava. We were crawling through megatons of tangled wreckage, Psycho and I following Snow Leopard as he cut a way through the mess, silent and grim, explaining nothing, just slashing his way through twisted alien metal with his torch, a man with a mission known only to him and maybe God.

Energy. Deadman! Something stirred up ahead in the flickering green of our darksight. Something to swat us, and maybe laugh. I almost laughed myself, I was so charged. I could taste the adrenalin in my mouth. We had crawled down into this mess. There was no way of telling what it had been. Whatever function it had served, the place we were wading through had been very large—a tremendous hall of some sort, full of massive black cylindrical columns that glittered like charcoal. Now the great, coiled roof was flattened down onto the columns, crushing them, and a flood of boiling radioactive water had rushed in from somewhere; bubbling, slimy water full of unidentifiable floating debris. The radioactivity was the least of our worries—if we survived, the Body Shop would fix us up. If we didn't survive, it wouldn't matter. We kept stumbling against large, angular objects under the water. Snow Leopard was highlighted on my faceplate right up ahead. I turned to the rear. Psycho was right there, almost neck-deep, his Manlink at his shoulder. I could see his face. He was smiling.

"Mommy's with us, kiddies. Don't be scared!" Psycho was having the time of his life. But if it got any deeper the little runt was going to be underwater.

"Prepare to fire, gang," Snow Leopard ordered calmly. "Laser or xmax. Psycho, up to you. It's coming, and we can't hide any more." Snow Leopard stopped moving and shouldered his E. I did the same, and set it to auto xmax. I was right next to a huge black cenite column. A twisted coil of ceiling was right overhead. The water was up to my armpits. Whatever it was would come in fast and low. Psycho sloshed forward to get in position to cover us both. My heart was pounding. I wanted nothing better than to let loose with a long burst of xmax. It was all a ghastly green glow, all around us.

"Energy point approaching," Sweety called out, "as marked." A white-hot dot on my faceplate. Another. Another! "Multiple targets," Sweety corrected, "approaching. Four, six targets—fire xmax auto!" I squeezed the trigger and held it down.

We ripped open the world. Shrieking, awful catastrophe, auto xmax shattering our ears, dazzling our eyes, exploding wildly, flashing off the columns and the roof, filling the air with supersonic slivers of glowing shrapnel, white phospo starbursts, the flowers of the Legion. My blood froze in awe. Psycho's Manlink spoke once, Tacstar Goddess, and reality parted briefly with a terrible ripping crack as a micronuke sun erupted before us, crackling and spitting, our own sun, right on my darkened faceplate, melting the ceiling, evaporating tons of water. My flesh crawled. Psycho whimpered in ecstasy. Something large and dark flashed past me. I whipped around to fire after it. An explosion of water. Psycho fired laser with his Manlink, right into the water. A black delta-shaped wing popped up steaming from underwater. I hit laser and joined Psycho in zapping it. The laser shrieked and popped and the device shuddered and burst open, spitting sparks.

"More of them!" Snow Leopard fired his E on auto xmax. "Keep firing!" I caught a fleeting glimpse of a dart-shaped probe flashing past the columns, circling around for another go at us, a ghostly track flickering on my faceplate. I fired auto xmax, filling the air with death. Sweety was shrieking at me—another! The world exploded in my face, red phospho starburst, the shock hammering me underwater. I rose with my head ringing, tracks all over my faceplate, my vision all blurry. Snow Leopard was chest-deep in the water, his back against a column, firing auto xmax nonstop. The probes flashed past us like birds and the water erupted in their wake, hissing and steaming. The columns rang with hits, white-hot holes, suddenly there. The laser flickered like lightning all around us. One of the probes exploded in the air, rolling along the ceiling in a fiery trail of destruction, showering us with wreckage. I spotted another one and nailed it with a laser burst. It kept on going, then exploded with a brilliant flash against one of the columns. Psycho let loose with a long burst of xmax. Sweety was filling my ears with data, but it was not getting through to my brain. I crouched almost neck-deep in the water, my head whirling.

"Enemy probes eliminated," Sweety remarked calmly. There was no more movement on the tacmap. A cold darkness enveloped us again. I slowly straightened up out of my crouch, my E at the ready.

"Everybody all right?"

"Tenners."

"Ten." I could hardly believe I was still in one piece.

"Nasty little critters, huh?" Psycho commented.

"Those weren't Systie probes—they were from the Omnis," Snow Leopard informed us. "Firing laser."

"Nice to see we could kill them," Psycho replied.

"Move it, gang—we're gone." Snow Leopard wasn't wasting any time. He began sloshing vigorously through the scummy water. We followed, quickly. We passed a downed probe, a large wing jutting out of the water, riddled with xmax and laser, glowing pale green in my darksight.

"Look at that—nobody's ever seen anything like that before," Snow Leopard remarked. One was a student of history, and he always felt he was a direct participant in momentous events.

"I'd just as soon have passed on the honor, thanks," I responded.

"They're not unbeatable, Thinker—we shot down their probes!" Psycho insisted. "I'll bet some O probe jockey is catching hell right now from his One."

"Look at this." Snow Leopard paused before an open doorway. It was a very odd doorway, narrow and high—about twice the height of a man. A corridor, flooded with filthy water, the walls glistening with slime. One had one hand out, almost as if he was feeling the air.

"We go in." No explanation. Never an explanation, from Beta One. Just an order, and we move. In, we go in. He was just as crazy as Psycho.

Into the unknown, again. A cold sweating corridor as black as death, sloshing through chest-deep water, our shoulders almost touching the walls. Into the Camp of the O's. I knew we were crazy—all of us, totally insane.

We were so far gone there was simply no reason left.

A terrible grinding noise shook the walls, and the starport trembled. We stopped as the walls moved around us and the water shivered. Vibrations, in our bones. The base was tearing itself apart.

###

Nobody said a word. I think we were all stunned into silence by the sight. We were in a tall, lightless, ice-cold room, the walls covered with slime. The room was full of corpses, pale blue naked human corpses lying on slabs, rubbery plastic tubing glistening with black blood running from cold pale arms up to an overhead rack.

"Life, life, life!" Sweety's reaction was more human than our own. "They are alive, Thinker. All of them—still alive!"

We followed the tubing to an auto device where the tubing spit the blood into a mechanism which eventually squirted it into an endless line of pale plastic bottles.

Bottles of blood, for the O's. Strange. I picked up one of the bottles and slipped it into a pouch on my U-belt.

Snow Leopard turned back to the living dead. It was pitch black to the Systies. They glowed green in our darksight. Sightless open eyes, glazed dead eyes. One of them blinked. A female, hovering before the gates of death, cold and skeletal and wasted. She could see nothing. Perhaps she sensed movement. Her mouth opened, a silent scream before the gates. She could feel the cold. She thought we were the O.