Curse of the Legion (14 page)

From time to time I'd hear distant explosions, and once I spotted a silent phospho silver trail high above the forest canopy, flickering through dark clouds. I wasn't the only Legion soldier with boots on the ground, that was sure, but the rest of the struggle was unknown to me—or to Sweety. If we failed to establish vac superiority, it was all over for Andrion 2. The O had overrun Alpha Station and Farside Base in their initial attack; that was all I knew for sure.

In the soft hush about an hour before dawn I found a tangled mass of foliage and crawled in, exhausted and anxious for a little shut-eye. The plan was to sleep days and travel nights. I found a comfortable bed against a couple of exposed tree roots and wrapped the Lizzie around me and opened my comtop visor and sipped some icy water from my renewable canteen. It was just like the nectar of the Gods, clear and pure and holy, sluicing down my gullet. Who could possibly ask for more? I looked up. The clouds had fled and the stars were coming out, past the twisted black canopy of flowers and leaves. The treefolk were quiet, I could hear a soft breeze and the patter of individual drops, falling down from high above. The air was wet and carried the musk of the forest. I was completely content. I wasn't worried at all. I knew I had done all I could to accomplish the mission, and would continue doing so, and there was nothing else to do except to meet my fate, whatever it might be.

I was dozing off as the first glimmer of dawn tinted the sky a slightly lighter shade of dark blue. My eyes caught a dark blur against the sky, through a break in the foliage, that gradually lit up with a rosy glow. It was a mountain, a huge blunt mass of rock thrusting abruptly out of the forest, and I suddenly recognized it—Mount Light! My heart leaped, as the sun's rays hit it with a golden hue—Mount Light, where I had fought side by side with my closest comrades, my blood brothers, Gildron and the Taka and Valkyrie and Redhawk. A flood of memories washed over me. It was still a long way ahead, but there it was. I had been parallelling the Grand Canal, but had moved off to the southeast, and had not been expecting to see it. So many memories!

I tried to sleep. I was exhausted, but sleep wasn't easy, with all that was running through my head. I faded, through waves of prickly heat. Tara whispered to me, back in her office, as we huddled over a recording that had been intercepted somewhere in the Outvac. It was from the O's and it seemed as if they were broadcasting it to us. It was in Inter, even though they didn't have vocal chords and couldn't speak. They must have constructed the message after wandering through some poor human captive's mind. Tara had made me listen to the damned thing again and again. It was more of a hissing screech than anything else—it gave me the creeps. We could barely make out the sounds, but after several tries I started to understand the words:

Blood blood heart heart side side reach reach touch touch memory memory love love shield shield children children supreme one. Light calm peace eternal one. Duty duty help help touch touch heart heart. Water water promise promise.

Blood ice heart serpent side lost reach lost touch burn memory lost love hate shield sword hatchlings corpse deathlord. Dark cross war eternal one. Duty kill help kill touch kill heart kill. Blood blood false false.

Duty struggle unborn young love sacrifice false hands false love.

It was rhythmic, almost like a wild heartbeat, scratching at our ears. They didn't think the same as we did—their thought processes were entirely different. What were they trying to say? It sounded as if things had gone quite wrong, somehow, and they were not happy about it. After the System's empire had begun to crumble, we had been hopeful that the O's would leave us alone. After all, we had stopped the Plague, with the fungicide Xeno-A, and passed the genetic profile to the O's. The White Death had been fatal to O's as well as humans, and until we came up with Xeno-A it had killed all who were exposed to it, as there was no antidote. We had no way of communicating with the O's, but they had stopped their advance into humanity's portion of the galaxy, and we thought it was in gratitude for Xeno-A. It was ConFree that had done it—ConFree! And now they attack ConFree. It didn't make sense.

I slept, with the O's eerie artificial speech whistling in my mind, and Tara fading in and out, listening to it with her eyes closed, not asking me a thing, just bathing in the sound, as if she could absorb it all and understand it all.

I floated from memory to memory, aware that the sequence was not making sense, aware that I was asleep and dreaming, but too tired to fight it. Tara again, just the two of us, in her office. She leaned over her desk, soft hair swirling over her shoulders, activating the big wall screen.

"Here's the enemy, Wester," she said softly. "This is the man in the shadows." He was young, it appeared, most likely an immortal. Average height, slim and active, dark hair, dark eyes, pale skin, clean-shaven, a single lock of hair hanging down loosely over one eye. He stood at a lectern, and he was wearing a uniform of dull silver. I recognized the uniform and the colors—it was reserved for the command levels of the United System Alliance. He was speaking Inter, and gesturing. I sensed that the audience was a small one, but probably an important one.

"…you must open your minds to a new way of thinking," he said, hanging on to the lectern as if for support. "Let our enemies lurch along in the dark ages. They can waste their blood and money on anything we devise. It's we who will decide this. If we understand their thought processes we've already won, and they've lost. History? We will make a new history. Resources? We will use no resources of our own. Money? We don't need it—we'll use their money. Soldiers? Don't be foolish." He leaned forward, anxious. He's crazier than the O's, I thought. "Purge your mind of all that nonsense! Let others do our fighting for us. The art of war was known and practiced in ancient Earth. A Chinese general known as Sun Tzu said it best: All warfare is based on deception!" He hissed it, gesturing before him with both hands. "When ready to attack, you must appear unready. When unready you must appear ready. When near, appear to be far away. When far, make the enemy fear you are near. If the enemy is superior, or prepared, avoid him. If he is weak or unready, attack from where you are least expected.

"Ancient history!" He flung his arms up. The view was a little fuzzy. It looked like an eyemote camera—I had seen the product before. "Our enemies know all this, but they are mired in the past and we are not. We improve on Sun Tzu. It's not necessary to fight at all!" He stared at the audience, cold eyes gleaming, like a snake about to devour a mouse. An Orman, I thought—he's an Orman. "Let our enemies exhaust themselves, in endless wars. There's no need for us to participate. Make a list of our enemies. Arrange the wars. It's best to destroy the enemy without even fighting him. Let others do your fighting. Infiltrate and subvert his society, if he lets you. This is always best. Then you can shape events. If you cannot do that, exhaust him. When they are weak enough they fall into our hands. The superior mind triumphs. Our enemies are stupid and impatient. We are not."

He stood there, jaw jutting, triumphant. "You must dare everything! Think the unthinkable! Plan the audacious! Lay your plans well, and hide everything in impenetrable layers of deception and secrecy…" The recording ceased abruptly, a grey screen hissing static. Yes—it was surely an eyemote, just snuffed out by some airsec cleanser.

"Where did you get this recording?" I asked Tara.

"I try to attend all his staff meetings. Unfortunately I've only succeeded once. This was it."

"Who is this maniac?"

"His alias is Jarzha Gwinn. We don't know his true. He was a disciple of Kenton Cotter-Arc. You remember Cotter-Arc. But this one hides in the shadows, just like a snake. He reports directly to Durdreigh Darton, the Mocain Chairman of the PolOr Council and Council of Ministers. He heads up an outfit called Galactic Resources. It doesn't even show up on their internal organization charts."

"What's their mission?"

"Their mission is our destruction, and the System's revival. And they're off to a damned good start."

"Is this the fellow whose skull is going to decorate your desk one day?"

"I do believe he is, Wester. I'm not certain yet—but it sure looks like it."

###

A deep rumbling awoke me. Sweety was silent so I knew there was no danger. I lay there in a green cathedral, nestled in leaves and vines, cocooned in the Lizzie, as sunlight dappled the forest canopy far overhead. A few air angels floated past, diaphanous multicolored tissue-like creatures, riding the air currents. The rumbling sounded again—heavy, far off eruptions. I thought I could feel the vibrations, deep in my bones. I knew the battle for the vac was still underway and we wouldn't do any serious downside drops until we had complete vac and air superiority. I felt lazy and tired and wanted to drift off to sleep again, but I couldn't.

"Sweety," I said, "get me the news." I knew the relay station was still up and running. There was a high pitched peeping and then the sonorous notes of home sang in my ears like a chorus of angels, a brief snatch of music that always put a thrill to my flesh for what it meant, and where it was coming from. Then there was only the voice, clear and calm and feminine. "This is the CFIS Galactic Service in the Crista Cluster, with the Galactic News Summary for 329/02/26 CGS compiled at 2000 hours. Greetings from the Confederation of Free Worlds. First in the news, ConFree is continuing to counter the unprovoked attack of Omni forces against the Andrion and Dindabai systems in the Outvac. ConFree's Fleetcom stellar forces have launched major counterattacks against intruding Omni invasion fleets that have landed heavy ground units on both Andrion and Dindabai. The battle for the vac is continuing with reportedly heavy Omni losses. Fleetcom losses have not been announced for reasons of operational security. Further public information is not yet available on the counterattack.

"The following official statement has been cleared for release by the Executive Council of the Confederation of Free Worlds: 'To the governments and peoples of the United System Alliance, the Hyades Federation, the Pleiades Association, the Dark Cloud Alliance, the Pherdan Federation, the Gulf Union, the Pegal Stelcom, and all other human worlds and peoples: Once again the peoples of the Confederation of Free Worlds stand alone on humanity's far frontier against a brutal and unprovoked attack by the Omni horde. Do not think that this bitter struggle has nothing to do with you. This is an attack on humanity, and if the Outvac is overrun by these merciless aliens, the Gassies, the Gulf and the Inners will follow. The Confederation of Free Worlds now calls on all human governments for military assistance, as soon as possible, to help us turn back this evil tide. Join us now, and the peoples of ConFree will never forget your sacrifice. Join us now, and your brave deeds will live on in history and your grateful descendants will bless you. Turn away, and your descendants will curse you, and live in slavery. The outcome of this elemental struggle will determine the survival, or extinction, of humanity.'

"That was the official statement from the Executive Council of the Confederation of Free Worlds. The Galactic Service will continue updating the news hourly. May God protect our brave soldiers…"

"That's enough, Sweety." The broadcast cut off abruptly. I couldn't stand it anymore. Deadman! I was better off not knowing.

###

When night came again I broke camp and started moving roughly east-southeast. Walking through that magical forest on darksight was quite an experience. I thanked Deadman, for allowing me to be there. There was nowhere else in the galaxy that I'd rather be, at that particular moment in time. I was very disappointed that the O's had penetrated the Queen's Underway, but there was no sense in crying about it. I knew where Moontouch would go, instead. There wasn't any doubt in my mind that I'd find her in the Tomb of the Kings, assuming she was still alive.

Of course my personal mission was to find my family, but the Legion doesn't give free taxi rides to people who have personal problems, especially in time of war. I had a Legion mission too, and it was deadly serious. I had told Tara I was volunteering for the Andrion front. She knew she couldn't stop me, so she thought up a plan. "You're closer to the Taka than anyone else, Wester," she had said. "We don't know what's happening downside, but you'll find that out when you drop. Organize the Taka against the O's. That's the mission. If it can be done, do it." Well, it was fine with me. I could do that, and she had given me the resources should it prove possible.

It was a long walk—about a hundred and ten K. The Tomb of the Kings was at the ruins of Southmark, and Southmark was smack in the middle of the Swamp of Lost Souls. There was no possible reason the O's would zero on Southmark. Stonehall was a big Taka settlement, but Southmark was just another pile of ruins lost in the forest. I knew she'd be there. I didn't mind the walk—I was equipped to do quite a bit. I had a Legion Phantom on call, should I need it. But I wasn't going to call the Phantom for a lift. The Phantom was there for my mission, but I didn't want to take any chances of attracting attention, no matter how invisible she was.

I looked up. The stars were out overhead. What a spectacular night! It was almost as if Deadman had a hand on my shoulder, guiding me onward. I was blessed, I thought—truly blessed. It's true, I was only a soldier ant, crawling along the surface of a microscopic world, at the bottom of a thin sheet of atmosphere, lost in the immensity of the universe. But I didn't care how insignificant we were in the grand scheme of things. My tribe, my nation, my race, my species was engaged in a titanic struggle with deadly alien invaders who would exterminate us all if we let them. And I was part of that. As I looked up at the stars each night of my march, strange flashes and glows would erupt from time to time, then fade. Hot glittering tracers cut their way across the velvet dark and once a shower of fiery debris burnt through the atmosphere, followed by a deep rumbling. That's all I saw of the Battle of Andrion Deep, but it was enough. It's part of the history books now—the greatest ship to ship starfleet engagement in galactic history. I prayed for them, I prayed for all our troopies, vacheads and boots, and I prayed for victory.