Slave of the Legion (11 page)

"What the hell are those Systies doing?"

"Quiet!"

"Why haven't they spotted us yet?" Valkyrie asked.

"I want auto x on the last two," Snow Leopard said. "Five, I want a stunstar on that first guy. Nobody fires until I give the word."

"Tenners."

"You got it."

Closer. We could see the civilians clearly now—dressed in rags. Some of them didn't even have shoes. They were all starving, that much was obvious. They were stick people, blue from the cold, eyes glazed, staggering forward. An old lady stumbled and fell. An old man pulled her up, helping her on. There was a young man, a walking skeleton, carrying his wife in his arms. A young boy with hollow cheeks walked beside him, holding the hand of a little, bright-eyed toddler, bundled up in a thick red baby suit. The toddler looked up at his brother and his parents. I could see in his eyes that he did not understand. Brave little children, I thought, marching into Hell. And I was suddenly overcome with rage. My whole body began shaking with hate. I centered my E on the last two A-suits, and set it to auto xmax. The sight was shaking. I wanted to see those two Systie bastards die, I wanted them blown to shreds, I wanted to do it so bad I was shaking, I was salivating.

"I have broken the Systie net," Sweety announced calmly, "opening the channel." At first there was nothing. Then we heard them.

"They're over there," one of the Systies said.

"Yeah."

"Legion A-suits."

"Yeah."

"What does it think they're doing here?"

"We don't know."

Silence. They continued marching.

"Think we should report it?"

"To who?"

More silence, the wind whistling eerily past my helmet.

"Legion A-suits. That's strange."

"Who cares. We're almost back." They lapsed into silence. And the march continued, into the wind.

"What the hell, One?" Valkyrie asked.

"Puzzling," Snow Leopard said.

"'Who cares'?" Merlin repeated. "They've got the Legion on scope and they say 'who cares'? What is this?"

"Their minds are sedated," Tara reported. "They've been psyched. I've never felt anything like it—they're almost punch drunk. It must be the O's. And the civilians are the same—psyched. Powerful, powerful psyching."

"But our psybloc hasn't gone off!"

"No, no, this happened before—they're still under it."

"Fire," Snow Leopard said calmly. My laser sight was right on the helmet of one of the last two Systies. The helmet exploded, a horrid bang, spraying a bloody mist, white-hot xmax erupting all over his armor and he was down, flaming like a torch. A massive boom and a heavy shock wave rocked us simultaneously; snow swirled up off the ground. The Systie's armored companion had been blown in two—his frozen arms clawed at the snow. I snapped my sights to the front of the column. The leading DefCorps trooper was flat on the snow, down and out. Civilians were scattered around him on the ground, unconscious. Psycho had taken out the point man with a stunstar.

"Secure that Systie!" Snow Leopard ordered. We scrambled up from our positions, hustling over to the Systie column. My skin crawled as I ran forward. The Mound was still on the horizon but the terrain was completely flat and we were totally exposed. There was no way they weren't going to see us from the Mound.

"Priestess, revive the prisoner!" Snow Leopard knelt by the point man, turning him over. The Systie trooper had dropped his SG. He had no visible wounds—a stunstar scrambles all nerve and motor activity but has no lasting effects. Priestess passed me, heading for the surviving Systie trooper. I hurried to the back of the column to check on the dead. There were a lot of Systie civilians down—those at the front had been hit by the stunstar. They would survive, but those in the rear might have more serious wounds. The surviving Systie civs had fallen to the ground, exhausted. I passed whole families, too tired to talk, too tired to move. There were a few babies as well—they didn't even cry. I imagined that meant they would die soon.

"They're gone," Dragon said, touching one DefCorps trooper with the tip of his boot. A bloody corpse, grey skin, encased in a smoking, pitted bronze-colored A-suit.

The dead always look the same, I thought. Lumps of clay. They were shaped just like people, but it was clear there was no life in them. The inhabitants were gone.

"This SG looks good," Scrapper said, hoisting the weapon.

"Yeah, get the weapons," I suggested. "We might need 'em."

"We've got wounded here!" Twister said. She knelt by a young female who was bleeding from chest and shoulder. "Priestess, we need you!"

"Give me five!"

I assisted Twister with the casualty. A girl, pale hollow face, just barely conscious, going into shock. Twister gave her a mag. I cut her thin jacket away with my cold knife and pressed field dressings onto the bloody shrapnel wounds. The gel would protect the wounds until she could get proper care, if that ever happened.

"He's conscious," Priestess reported. She had revived the prisoner. "Can I tend to the civilians now?"

"Yes," Snow Leopard said. "Go. Hurry! We don't have much time!" One wasn't kidding. My flesh crawled every time I looked at the Mound squatting on the horizon like a temple of death. We could die in an instant, at any time.

"All right, Systie," Snow Leopard said in a voice edged in ice, "We're with the Legion. I'm not going to make a speech, because we don't have time, but you know the story. Talk and you live, refuse and you die. It's that simple. I'm going to kill you in one mark if you don't cooperate completely. Do you understand?"

"We understand—ah! What did it hit us with?" The Systie's helmet was off.

"I want your answers short and accurate, Systie! The Mound! Why were you going there? Why the civilians? Answer!"

"Ah…yes! We're assigned there! We work…for them."

"Them? Explain!" I was working on another civilian casualty, but I was hanging on every word of the Systie's debriefing.

"The V! The Variants. We have to do what they say. Our whole company was captured. We had no choice." The V—he meant the O's. The System called them the Variants, we called them the Omnis.

"Explain! You're assigned to the Mound?"

"Yes—two squads. We supervise the deliveries—the civilians. Oh, my head is splitting! Ah!"

"You mean your quarters are inside the Mound?"

"Right. Inside. Where…where are my squadies?"

"They're gone, trooper. Listen up! Can you get us into the Mound?"

"Gone…yes. But it doesn't want to go there, believe us!"

"Beta, forward!" Snow Leopard shouted. "On me!" I clenched my teeth and raised my E. This was it—we were going into the Mound. The civilians were all still sprawled on the ground, gasping. "Get those civilians up," One ordered. "Everyone comes! Three, Eight, get that Systie camfax on! The rest of you surround yourselves with civilians! Up! Up! Everybody up!"

We started hauling them up. They obeyed wordlessly, hopeless and doomed, struggling to their feet, then slowly resuming the march. The wind rose, whipping flurries of snow up from the ground. I ripped a bloodstained Systie cloak from one of the DefCorps troopers and picked up an SG as well. We had no desire to involve the civilians but it was the obvious way to cover our approach. We wouldn't fool anyone for very long, but it might work for a few marks—and a few marks might mean the difference between life and death.

And that's how we approached the Mound, walking with a long line of starving Uldo civilians, behind a Systie prisoner. One continued the interrogation as we walked.

"Why were you taking the civilians into the Mound, trooper?"

"The V—they make us do it. We can't resist the V. We do as they say or we die. They use the people—we're not sure for what. It's horrible. We've delivered thousands. Nobody ever leaves—nobody."

"You've got weapons! Can't you fight the V's?"

"We've got no weapons! The SG? It's only good against people. There's no defense against the V. They take our minds. We do exactly what they want."

"No psyprobes!" Tara reported. It was remarkable. We were coming closer and closer to the Mound. Nobody appeared interested in our strange procession.

"How many O's, trooper? How many V in the Mound?"

"We don't know! We hardly ever see them. We don't want to see them! We do what they want, they don't appear. It's fine with us."

Closer! The Mound was silent, a massive, brooding presence, looming above us now, leaking smoke out the vents on top. Huge blackened cenite doors. They could swat us in an instant—but they didn't. We came closer—and closer.

Cold sweat trickled down my temples. Fear, in my mouth. It tasted like metal.

"Stand by, Five."

"Tenners, One. We're going in—one way or another!"

Closer. Closer! This was it—we were almost at the gates.

The wind moaned in my ears.

"If that door doesn't open, you die, Systie." It was frighteningly clear that Snow Leopard was totally serious.

"Open up, Bell," the Systie said on his net. "We're back."

"Goodbye, Thinker," Valkyrie said softly, on private. "I always loved you. We're going to die together."

"I'll never forget you, Valkyrie," I responded. "Watch yourself!"

"Thinker, I want to live through this," Priestess said, "then we live together, forever."

"I promise, Priestess—forever!"

The massive doors moved—two gigantic cenite doors sliding open, the screeching of tortured metal, revealing only darkness within. It put a chill to my flesh. I glanced at my chron. It was 314/06/17 CGS, 0612 local.

"Death," Snow Leopard whispered reverently. "Five, stunstar. Beta, attack, auto x." Psycho stepped forward and fired immediately right into the doorway, even as the gates were opening. The darkness erupted, a white flash, a tremendous boom, and a great cloud of dust and debris blasted out of the gates. We charged forward screaming, into the Mound, firing auto x.

Chapter 9
The Kingdom of the Doomed

When the echoes died and the smoke cleared we found ourselves in a cavernous dark metallic hall, littered with shredded DefCorps gear. A bloody spectre raised one twitching arm from the deck, then collapsed. There were three more of them—Systies, unarmored. Pale lights high on the walls faintly illuminated a hall from Hell.

"Four enemy dead," Priestess reported. The Systies had camped out here. Dropboxes and airbeds and cooking gear and rations were strewn around the floor. There were a lot of civilian items as well, clothing and blankets and shoes. The walls and ceiling were made of massive, flattened coils of dark, alien cenite. Coils—I had seen this before in the Omni base on Andrion 3. It was like being inside a gigantic, evil snake. The walls and ceiling were cold and wet. We were inside the beast now, inside the Mound, inside the alien world of the O's.

"We're sorry, Bell. We're sorry!" The Systie, our prisoner, was on his knees before one of the dead. Our Systie was an Outworlder, I noted, a thin face, short hair. An Outworlder, in the service of the System. There were millions like that—not that they had any choice.

"Secure this room—get that door closed!" Snow Leopard ordered. We were all inside now, the whole squad, armored and armed, charged up and ready to fire.

"What about the civilians?"

"They'll be safer outside—believe us!" The Systie commented miserably.

"Leave them outside," Snow Leopard ordered. "and get that Systie out of his armor." Merlin found the controls; and the massive double doors began the journey back to the closed position, shrieking all the way, the outside light gradually fading. It closed with a terrifying bang. It was so dark inside that my darksight activated.

"Still no psyprobe," Tara announced. "The Systie is no longer psyched. He's completely normal."

"It's the stunstar," Merlin explained. "It scrambles electroneural activity; it neutralized the psych."

Gildron moaned. We were scanning the walls and ceiling. Scrapper and Twister unlinked the Systie's armor. The chestplate fell noisily to the floor.

"Merlin, wreck those controls," Snow Leopard said. "I want those doors sealed. Nobody gets in."

"Tenners." Merlin raised his E. My heart was hammering. Nobody gets in—wonderful. But nobody gets out, either. Snow Leopard was truly terrifying, if you really thought about it. The controls glowed and spat sparks as Merlin melted them with the laser. We lock the door behind us—permanently. Now it's simple—victory or death. Snow Leopard didn't have to say a word. We all understood. I looked over at Tara. I could see into her faceplate. She was faintly smiling, her E raised and ready to fire. It was the smile of a saint. And I understood—we were on holy ground. Satan was up ahead, writhing in the shadows. And we were going to kill him, or die trying.

"Talk, Systie," Snow Leopard said. "Where are the V? We're after the V."

"It must be insane," the Systie responded slowly, looking around at us each in turn. "Legion must all be insane. It's after the V? The V will kill it all!"

"Answer or you die." Snow Leopard raised his E and pointed it right at the Systie's chest. The Systie was out of his armor now, sweating, still on his knees, clad only in a dirty litesuit.

"We'll show it the V," the Systie said. "We'll show it our world. We call it the Kingdom—the Kingdom of the Doomed. It's the V's world. We're just the caretakers. But we're just as doomed as the others."

"Reception, Reception, Processing, come in. Report! What happened?" It was a tinny voice, coming from a handcom on the deck. The Systie reached down for it but One's booted heel pinned his hand to the floor.

"Who's that, Systie?"

"It's the rest of our guys—Processing. They're on duty inside. This is Reception and H.Q. It's not much of an office but it's all we've got."

One eased his foot off the Systie's hand. "Tell them there's been an accident. One of the civilians grabbed an SG—no friendlies hurt. Tell them to come and assist."

The Systie picked up the instrument. "Processing, it's Transport. We're back—there's been an accident. One of the packs grabbed an SG and we had to take it out. Nobody hurt. Can it help us clean up the mess?"

"We're on the way, Transport."

"Move it, Systie!" Snow Leopard barked. "Lead the way. We meet them—now!"

Another massive cenite door slid open, the screech of metal on metal. A darkened corridor, sweating icy metal walls, the Systie's breath frosty in the air.

"Processing is to the right," he said. We followed, our E's raised, every sense alert. This was the domain of the O's—a narrow corridor, a high ceiling hidden in the dark. The creatures were here, somewhere, waiting to lash out at us.

"I want stunstar, Five," Snow Leopard ordered. The Systies were on my tacmap now, coming out of a corridor door up ahead. Psycho pushed forward past Snow Leopard and fired. A blinding flash and a titanic bang, the shockwave rocking us back on our heels and knocking our Systie off his feet.

"Recover prisoners! Medic up!" The corridor was smoking. Three Systies sprawled on the deck, out cold, clad in litesuits and coldcoats, armed with SG's. Priestess was on them in an instant, checking the life signs.

"Snow Leopard!" Tara looked around us uneasily, one hand out as if testing the air. The psybloc units on our helmets activated simultaneously, popping to life, then crackling like novas, filling the corridor with glaring light and dark leaping shadows.

"Psybloc grenades," Snow Leopard said calmly. "Ahead and behind." He tossed one up the corridor and Valkyrie lobbed one back to cover our rear. They ignited, double explosions, white-hot stars spitting sparks, and we scanned the walls and ceilings as ice-cold sweat trickled down my temples.

"Secure those Systies, Nine," Snow Leopard ordered. "Then follow us. Get the weapons, guys." I picked up another SG. We were bristling with weapons by now. Priestess and Merlin slipped restraints over the unconscious Systies' wrists. The Systies had come out of another autosealing door, leading into the interior of the Mound.

"Get that door open, Systie." Our Systie was still with us, right by One's side. He reached out to a black panel and the door began sliding open. I hurled in a psybloc grenade and it exploded inside, popping and glaring, lighting up the interior.

Another large room, dominated by a great cylindrical column riddled with vertical slits, oozing sticky liquid, merging with the ceiling. Systie dropboxes and ration packs littered the deck.

"What's that, Systie?" Snow Leopard illuminated the column with the light from his E.

"Don't know," the Systie responded. "It's never done anything. Processing is topside. This way." We eased past the structure, E's up and scanning. The psybloc grenade bathed the room with harsh light. Our helmet units continued to function. The door slammed shut behind us.

"It's an elevator," the Systie said, "this whole section of floor."

"I've got movement," Sweety whispered in my ears. "Upstairs. Hundreds of targets—human, unarmed." Our psybloc units suddenly shut off. The grenade continued to flare. We looked up to the ceiling. Even with the darksight, it was a confusing mess.

"Why would they stop probing?"

"To get us off guard. Let's get up there. Stay alert!" We moved onto the platform and the Systie touched a guardrail and we shot up to the ceiling and the ceiling snapped open and suddenly we were in Processing.

I clutched a psybloc grenade, but there was no sign of O's. We were in another large, darkened room, a forest of strange devices hanging down from the ceiling. The floor was covered with rags—no, people. The rags moved, fluttering. Someone coughed. Faces, pale pinched faces, blue from the cold. Dull glazed eyes. Civilians, huddled under thin blankets and dirty coldcoats, exhausted.

We walked through the room warily, eying the mysterious structures dangling from the ceiling. The deck was gritty, covered with trash. The civilians watched us silently. I could see in their eyes that they knew they were dead, and I wondered if they could see the same in ours.

"How many more of your guys here, Systie? Why haven't they responded?"

"They're up ahead—in Separation and Holding. Sounds don't carry in here. They probably don't know there's anything wrong."

"More unarmored, unarmed humans in the corridor outside," Sweety informed me.

"No psyprobe," Tara added. "But I don't like it here. There's something…wrong. Something oppressive."

"Tell me about it," Valkyrie said. The ceiling glittered with ice.

"You stay with me, Systie." Snow Leopard had him by his tunic, propelling him toward the exit. Another door, another corridor, this one inhabited by ghosts. They huddled against the walls, standing, squatting, collapsed on the deck, shivering in the cold, too tired to move.

"They're all psyched," Tara informed us. "They're barely functioning."

"These are all females," Snow Leopard said, "young females. Explain, Systie." Snow Leopard was right—I could see no males.

"Ahh…this is Separation. The V make us divide the people into groups. The old, adult males and females, children…"

I glanced at the tacmap. This corridor was roughly circular, but it was closer to the center of the Mound than the corridor below.

Someone screamed, up ahead. One pushed the Systie to one side and moved up the corridor. I followed.

They were in a doorless alcove just off to one side, two of them, DefCorps Systies in litesuits. They had a naked girl with them. She was very pretty and very young. They did not even see us as we approached—they were busy. One of them raised a hand and slapped the girl in the face, hard. The screaming stopped. A few other girls watched from the corridor with glazed eyes and expressionless faces. One of the Systies held the girl down over a dropbox while the other one raped her, thrusting deeply into her, his pants around his knees. There was a lot of blood—he was not being gentle.

Snow Leopard and I stepped into the alcove. The Systies looked up and saw black armor, gleaming in the dark. Their eyes widened in shock. My laser sight lit up the forehead of the one who was restraining the girl. Then his head exploded. The other one scrambled away like a crippled dog until Snow Leopard's boot landed on his back. Snow Leopard brought his E to bear on the back of the Systie's head, but an armored hand reached out and lifted the barrel of his E away from the target.

"Let me…please?" Valkyrie asked. The Systie twisted like a snake, thrashing around in the rubbish on the floor. He was on his back now, his pants tangled around his ankles. Valkyrie stood over him with an eerie smile. The laser sight lit up the Systie's crotch. He whimpered, and Valkyrie fired a burst on laser. I turned my head away. The Systie shrieked from the very depths, and then passed out.

"He's still alive," Valkyrie said calmly, "but it's all right—he'll bleed to death."

"She's in shock," Priestess said, looking after the girl.

"She's psyched," Tara added. "They all are."

"Is this considered a fringe benefit, Systie?" Snow Leopard seized our Systie by the front of his tunic and slammed him up against the wall, the barrel of the E resting against the Systie's throat. Snow Leopard's pale pink eyes were glittering hatred, and I knew the Systie was in serious trouble.

"Unauthorized!" the Systie gasped. "The V have made us crazy! We try to help the packs!" Our psybloc units suddenly came on, crackling to life, lighting up the hall.

"Enemy probes!" Sweety announced. "Two probes, as marked, projecting psypower, unidentified capabilities, approaching our position!" They were on the tacmap, coming at us along the corridor. I raised two weapons, the E and an SG. Another SG dangled from one shoulder.

"Auto xmax," Snow Leopard ordered. He released his grip on the Systie, who slid down the wall to the floor, bathed in sweat. "Fire at my command. Grenades—now!"

Back to the wall, I set both weapons to auto xmax. A couple of psybloc grenades burst brightly down corridor, lighting us all up. A girl in a blanket whimpered beside me—the corridor was lined with civilians.

"Get down on the floor," I suggested. Closer—here they come! Probes, floating effortlessly just below the ceiling, coming right at us.

"High and rising psyprobe readings!"

"It can't resist them," the Systie said.

"Fire," Snow Leopard ordered. I opened up with the E and the SG both. We all fired and the corridor exploded, a titanic, continuing multiple starburst, shrieking, awful catastrophe, the shock waves buffeting our A-suits. I kept my finger locked on autofire and the walls began to disintegrate, shrapnel pinging off my armor, the ceiling coming down, glowing and smoking.

"Cease fire! Cease fire!"

"Probes eliminated," Sweety reported.

"I feel much better now," Psycho said dreamily. Our psybloc units switched off abruptly. A sudden silence descended on us. The corridor ahead burnt and hissed. The deck was littered with wreckage. The civilians whimpered.

"Think there were any people down there?"

"Not any more."

"Where's that Systie?" Snow Leopard demanded. "Get him over here! Systie, we want to get into the interior of this installation—how do we get in?"

The Systie was bleeding from minor shrapnel wounds. He appeared stunned and exhausted. "The V don't let us in past the third corridor," he said, "and even the third is blocked at both ends. There are terrible things in there—believe us, it doesn't want to go further."

"One—we've got something here!" Dragon stood before another black cenite door. We moved up. Someone had crudely sprayed two words over the door: HOLDING—BRATS.

"I detect numerous human targets within, all unarmored," Sweety informed me. Dragon hit the control and the door slid open.

We went in guns up and we thought we were ready for anything but we were not ready for what was in there—a great hall full of dying children lying in their own filth, too tired to move, hollow blue-grey faces, tragic unblinking eyes, wasted little arms clutching rags for warmth. There was a muted wailing in the air—they were too close to death to cry.