The Eternity Brigade (28 page)

His disguise took him well back into the blue ranks—far enough to see they’d brought a mobile field headquarters with them. This was something like a floating six-story building, riding majestically across the open ground outside the ruined city on a cushion of antigravity. Hawker was delighted to see it. Such a facility meant this army was self-sufficient, with no need to be supplied from the outside; all its services—hospital, mess and administration— could be found in that one building.

In particular, that meant it was much more likely the records of its soldiers were here in the field, rather than many kilometers away at an established base. A mobile field headquarters could travel where it pleased and dub its troops as needed—which, at times, was much better than dubbing the troops at one central location and distributing them later. Hawker’s pattern would be on file here, simplifying his mission considerably.

The mood back here was relaxed, confident. Their jubilation made them less tight with their security. Hawker walked in plain view to within fifty meters of the mobile headquarters before receiving his first challenge. “Halt. Where are you going?”

The guard had spoken Arkasan, a language Hawker understood. Relieved that he didn’t have to continue his shell-shocked act, he said, “Special mission from patrol five. Our fucking comms went out on us, so they sent me back to get some more. Don’t know why we bother, nothing’s going to happen out there. We really smashed ‘em today.”

The guard smiled and pointed at Hawker’s bandage. “Looks like
you
saw some action.”

“Yeah—slipped on a loose stone and hit my head.” Hawker tried to capture the tone of irony the guard could commiserate with. Only a fellow soldier could truly appreciate these little absurdities life constantly offered—and it would make Hawker’s story that much more believable.

As he’d hoped, the guard waved him inside with a slight smile and no further questions. Hawker once again found himself inside a military base with only the vaguest idea of where he was going—but he’d search this entire structure from top to bottom if he had to; he’d come too far and suffered too much to be stopped now.

The mood within this base was the exact opposite of that in the bunker. Here, everything was triumph and calm confidence, the easy feeling of superiority. The practical effect, though, was the same—Hawker could roam the corridors without interference, as long as he always pretended to know where he was going and what his orders were for going there.

At last, though, Hawker reached an area he was not permitted to penetrate. Relaxation was one thing, but a total breach of security couldn’t be expected here. The forbidden area was locked with identity-required doors, and in addition was guarded by two soldiers who told him in no uncertain terms the resurrection duplicator was off limits to anyone without specific authorization.

Hawker had come this far; what he was looking for was on the other side of those doors, and he wasn’t going to be stopped now. He walked back to the first crossing corridor and stepped into it, out of sight of the guards who’d turned him away. The hallway was almost empty, and Hawker dallied innocently until there was no one around.

Then, taking one of the grenades from his pocket, he tossed it down the corridor to the end. Just as it exploded he started running back to the guards.

“Quick!” he yelled. “One of their saboteurs got inside. He’s that way!”

The guards took their rifles, which had been slung casually over their shoulders, and raced forward to see what the matter was. As soon as they were past him, Hawker took out his own pistol and shot them both in the back, then turned the laser on the security doors. The laser’s beam was not strong enough to penetrate the doors, so Hawker reached into his pocket for another grenade and threw it at the portals. The blast opened a satisfactory hole for him—but it left him with just one grenade. He’d have to save that for the final task.

Hawker leaped through the hole, gun drawn. There were more soldiers here, but they were all choking and stunned from the smoke of the sudden explosion; Hawker killed them before they could even shoot back. With most of the opposition gone, Hawker ran down the hall checking every doorway. Most of the rooms in this section were just staff offices, unoccupied and unimportant. Twice he came across other people, and shot them down without even caring who they were. Only one thing mattered to him now.

Hawker became a demon possessed, a fanatical killing machine. Nothing could be allowed to stop him in his quest. All the army’s training, all those centuries of conflict, had prepared him for this day, and he was honed to a razor’s edge. He would not die before he found the room he sought.

There was a guard outside the dubbing computer room when be came to it, but Hawker killed him and ran through the door. Suddenly he confronted his nemesis, the machine that, time after time, had brought him back to a life of hellfire and damnation. Hawker gave a grim smile, knowing that this time he’d even the score forever. He lowered his gun and reached into his pocket to pull out the last grenade.

“Hold it, motherfucker!”

The voice was vaguely familiar. Hawker turned quickly to find himself staring down the sights of a laser pistol. The man behind the pistol was Thaddeus Connors. Hawker’s own pistol had been lowered; there was no way he could raise it to shoot before Connors could kill him.

“Hello, Connors,” he said. His voice was preternaturally calm, a fact that surprised even him. “Remember me?”

“I remember a lot of people.” Connors was wire-taut, only a micron away from murder.

“I saved your life. Remember China, back when this whole fucking mess started? I dragged you across fields at night. I hid you from the enemy in the daytime.”

Connors laughed coldly. “Yeah. If it wasn’t for you I wouldn’t be here now, right?” No resurrectee could say that and mean it as a compliment.

Hawker’s mouth was dry. Perhaps some little spark of gratitude way in the back of Connors’s mind had kept him from killing Hawker outright—but that margin was rapidly eroding. As bad as the situation was, Hawker would have to do something.

He raised his pistol and fired straight into Connors’s stomach. The black man fell back, dying—but even before the beam had hit, his own laser lashed out, scoring Hawker’s body.

Hawker should have died then. Connors’s beam cut right through his vitals, missing the heart by no more than a millimeter. The pain was blinding, and Hawker fell to the ground like a lump of lead.

But he was not dead, not yet. He had a purpose that would not let go of him, would not let him stop. As long as the duplicator still existed, all his lives had been for nothing. He could not die now, or his labors would be lost.

There was something hard and smooth in his left hand. The grenade. He still held the grenade. He couldn’t turn his head to see it, but he’d handled so many grenades his fingers knew its surface intimately.
Set it,
he ordered his hand, and the fingers moved slowly to obey. First he turned one small dial, then another. A timer fuse. Fifteen seconds. With the last gram of strength in his body, he pushed the grenade away from him along the floor, toward the duplicator, knowing there were millions of things that could still go wrong. Maybe he hadn’t set the grenade right. Maybe there was a third record of him somewhere. Maybe….

Jerry Hawker did not live long enough to see the explosion. But that, in and of itself, was a victory.

At long last, and forever, Hawker knew peace.

End of
The Eternity Brigade

You can buy a paperback copy of
The Eternity Brigade
at
https://www.createspace.com/3435062
.

I’d like to thank Olga Gardner Galvin, editor/publisher of ENC Press, for her hard work and dedication on this project. Even though we ended up with separate visions, her valuable insights gave me much to think about and lit my way through difficult places.

Born in Philadelphia in 1947, Stephen Goldin has lived in California since 1960. He received a Bachelor’s degree in Astronomy from UCLA and worked as a civilian space scientist for the U.S. Navy for a few years after leaving college, but has made his living as a writer/editor most of his life.

His first wife was fellow author Kathleen Sky, with whom he co-wrote the first edition of the highly acclaimed nonfiction book
The Business of Being a Writer
. His current wife is fellow author Mary Mason. So far they have co-authored two books in the Rehumanization of Jade Darcy series.

He served the Science Fiction and Fantasy Writers of America as editor of the
SFWA Bulletin
and as the organization’s Western Regional Director. He has lived with cats all his adult life. Artistically, he enjoys Broadway musicals and surrealist art.

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Science Fiction

The Eternity Brigade
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sample
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Assault on the Gods
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Mindsaga

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The Rehumanization of Jade Darcy (co-written by Mary Mason)

Jade Darcy and the Affair of Honor
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Jade Darcy and the Zen Pirates
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Tsar Wars
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Treacherous Moon

Robot Mountain

Sanctuary Planet

Stellar Revolution

Purgatory Plot

Traitors’ World

Counterfeit Stars

Outworld Invaders

Galactic Collapse

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Polly!
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Angel in Black

The Parsina Saga

Shrine of the Desert Mage
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The Storyteller and the Jann

Crystals of Air and Water

Treachery of the Demon King

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