Slave of the Legion (5 page)

The young man gaped at One in astonishment, then looked around briefly at the smoky fire. His assistant stopped, leaning on the shovel, watching us. The young man wiped his mouth and laughed, turning back to One. "What are we doing? What does it look like, Legion? We're burning history! We're burning books! That's what we're doing! Get back to work, Rigo! You're barely into the Second Millenium. Faster! We can't leave anything for the future. We leave a clean slate for whoever survives. Let them figure it out themselves! We wouldn't want them following our example, that's for sure!"

"Professor!" A girl, face streaked with charcoal, appeared suddenly out of the smoke, clutching a single, leather-bound book. "It's the First Dynasty—the Ancient Books Collection—hundreds of them! Originals! Please let's save them, Professor—please! Nobody will ever know!"

"Give me that book, child!" He snatched it eagerly from her hands. "The First Dynasty!" He stared at it greedily, enchanted. I could see the glow in his eyes, transforming his features. "We'll never know such heroism in our lifetime, Janine. They dared everything and changed the world. Courage can bring down empires. We can't let such subversive ideas fester in our times, can we?" He hurled the book right into the fire, and it flared and burned brightly. The girl burst into tears and covered her face with her hands.

"The First Dynasty is gone!" the Professor exclaimed. "By order of the System! Bring the rest, Janine, bring it all! Faster, Rigo! History is dangerous. Knowledge infects the mind, it wakes people up. But knowledge and history are easily lost—aren't they, Rigo? You're burning emperors and artists and gods, poets and explorers and philosophers, Rigo, you're erasing thousands of years of history, for all time! That makes you more powerful than all those old, dead kings, doesn't it, Rigo?"

"That's right, Professor," Rigo smiled cheerily, the sweat streaming off his naked back. "Whatever Super says!" He tossed another shovelful of datapaks into the flames.

"Why are you burning this data, Professor?" One asked.

"To prevent it from falling into the wrong hands, Legion! We wouldn't want the V reading about our past, would we? And what if the Legion got ahold of it? Oh no, better to burn it—burn it all! And it's our responsibility—ours, all ours! We're a historian, Cit knows—we've spent our life guarding the past for the System. History is a state secret under the System—did it know that? Yes, we're a historian. We're in charge of the past; we're the guardian of thousands of years of dangerous, subversive secrets. And it asks why we're burning it! That's what historians do under the System—we burn history! Bring us those books, Janine—all of them! Don't sub dare hide any! Who does it think it is—God? And stop crying! Does it think the past is sacred? It burns like paper! Try it itself!" He staggered, soaked in sweat and covered with ash, and I think he was close to crying, too. I turned my face away. I didn't want to see any more.

###

"Control, Black Jade. We confirm orders. Black Jade out." We were committed now. Snow Leopard had just received the go-ahead from Recon Control. We were still in the records center, back upstairs in the main hall, taking a break, camped against the walls and sprawled on the floor, chewing on rations and sipping water from our canteens. It was already dark outside and fires burned out of control in the night. The great hall was cold and dark and full of smoke, and rubbish littered the deck.

We had put out the fire in the vault and sent the Systie civs away to face whatever awaited them in the future. We even let them take away some of the books. I thought a lot about that historian. He believed in history, and his mission was to burn it. I believed in justice, and my mission was to kill. Thinking was not good for you—it led to nothing but trouble.

"Squad meeting, gang—now." Snow Leopard leaned his E against the wall. We gathered around, still chewing on our rations. We were all in A-suits, helmets off. It was like a gathering of great metal spiders, feasting on carrion in the dark.

"All right, our mission is on," Snow Leopard said quietly. "Ten will be picking us up shortly in the aircar. Then we'll be off, past our forward elements, into the death zone. We'll be under heavy skies all the way—deceptors and psybloc. Take a look at the map." Snow Leopard unfolded a silky printout tacmap and spread it out on the deck. We clustered around.

"Right there," Snow Leopard said. His pale pink eyes were riveted on the map, his mouth was set, and faint blue veins throbbed at his temples. His chunky fingers poked at the map. "We'll decar right there, and make our way by foot into the mountains. It has to be on foot—any aircar approaching the Mound gets spotted and blasted. We've already established that. Redhawk will return to the milbase with the aircar but stand by for pickup if we need it. So—we go up this valley. We'll stick to the river, if it's not mined."

"What's the O presence in that area?" Dragon asked.

"As far as we know, there's nothing there. If they spot us approaching, they may send something after us. Or they may not. You can never tell, with the O's. However, we can certainly expect roving probes, free-floating genetic strands, patrolling energy spheres, and plenty of other nasty surprises."

I remembered the genetic strands—the snakes—and the spheres, from Mongera. My blood ran cold every time I thought of the spheres. That's what had decimated Gamma—five spheres, five dead. That's what had turned my lovely little Valkyrie into a cold, homicidal psychotic. Now she was second in command of Beta. She'd be in charge if anything happened to Snow Leopard. And the frightening part was that I knew it was exactly what Beta One wanted. In the old days, Snow Leopard would never have even considered someone as unstable as Valkyrie for the Number Two slot. But Snow Leopard had changed too, after Mongera. We had all changed. And when crazy becomes normal, then normal becomes crazy. I wondered how Snow Leopard classified me. A little shaky, maybe. A little normal. Not crazy enough for command. Still too cautious, perhaps, to face the O's. Well, Valkyrie wasn't cautious, that was for sure.

"Up the river," Snow Leopard said, "and over the hills to the plain. Then we're almost there—the Mound is right here."

"How do we get across the plain without being spotted?" Psycho asked. "Looks pretty open to me."

"When we're ready, we'll call for cover," Snow Leopard said. "They'll light up the entire sector with deceptors and smoke and psybloc. Not just our area, but the whole sector—so it won't highlight us. We go in at night, under cover. Nothing to it."

"Nothing to it!" Speedy exclaimed in surprise. "What happens if the O's spot us and attack? What do we do then?"

"We fight," Snow Leopard replied, "and call in Beta Ten in the aircar for evac, if necessary."

"And what if he can't get to us? Or they get to him first?"

"Then we die. Any more questions?" The new guy paled, and shut down.

"You shouldn't worry, Speedy," Valkyrie said soothingly. "We all know what we're doing. We've fought the O's before. Just stay close to us and follow orders. You'll see—we'll get some kills. It's a good feeling, a great feeling, when you kill an O! We blew that last one apart, didn't we, guys? We filled the sky with psybloc and ripped its mags apart with canisters and tore it to shreds with the darts, and melted it with plasma, and cooked its genetics with the fieldfaxer and riddled it with laser and chainlink and tacstars and xmax and flame, we barbecued it, we char-grilled it, Speedy, and it burned like charcoal! We loaded it into the aircar in sections, didn't we, guys?" Her green eyes glowed, spittle was leaking out of her soft pink lips, and her face twitched. The Legion cross, burnt right onto her forehead, completed the picture. It was dead silent. She gave a nervous little laugh and wiped her mouth with the back of her armored hand. "Like Snow Leopard says, there's nothing to it. It's a charge—a real charge."

But Speedy wouldn't leave it alone. "Did you have any casualties?"

"Casualties," Valkyrie said. "Yeah, let's see—the O's got five of us, on Andrion Three. And two on Mongera—the rest were killed by the Systies. Yeah, total of seven killed, by the O's."

"Seven killed! How many O's did you get?"

"How many! There was only the one," Valkyrie replied. "Just the one, on Mongera. One is enough, believe me!"

"Just one!" Speedy's voice went up a few octaves.

"Relax, Speedy!" Valkyrie chided him. "Deadman, what an old lady! Just relax; we'll kick the crap out of the O's."

I closed my eyes. We were in the hands of the Gods.

Chapter 4
The Mission

A poisonous black rain fell through an uneasy night. We huddled in the aircar, armored and armed, hurtling into the future. Thirteen soldiers of the Legion, bound for death. We were on the left flank of the attack, moving fast and low with the advance elements of the 12th. The sky flickered with light, then faded. Deceptors trembled across the sky like lightning. Psybloc fell like hot hail. When it lit up, black clouds hid the stars and sheets of rain burst against the skin of the aircar. Dead forests of smoking charcoal trees flashed past outside, stark reminders of the elemental struggle that had just been waged. We could see other aircars on our screens. Green ghosts, all around us. The horizon erupted, an intense phospho-white burst, icy green core; then the shock wave rattled the car, the horizon fading once again.

"Antimat!" Redhawk exclaimed. "Big one!" Redhawk was piloting and he had the speed close to max. Terrifying things came at us out of the dark, huge boulders and massive hills of burning trees and sudden cliffs, tearing right past us. I knew Redhawk had it all on screen, but it didn't make it any less scary.

"There's some O's over there," Snow Leopard said. "Just stay away from them."

"Sounds like good advice!" We'd been through a lot with Redhawk, and we trusted him—he was a first-class driver. He was a little crazy, maybe, but he wasn't the only one.

"Control, Black Jade. Commo check." Snow Leopard did one last check.

"Black Jade, Control. Read you ten high. Please go to blackout. Good luck."

"Black Jade going to blackout." Now we were truly alone, flying right into the mouth of fate.

"Play the stars, Sweety." I spoke to my Persist, the tacmod. She responded wordlessly and in moments I was calmer, alien galaxies howling in my ears, black stars hissing, red giants crackling. It was the music of distant suns, the murmur of faraway nebulae, crawling slowly over my skin. The music of the stars—it was all I needed for any dark night, and I had shared it only with Priestess.

"Opstars!" Redhawk exclaimed. They glowed on the screens. I craned my neck to see behind us. There, a line of pale glowing fireballs rising into the sky. Lightning lanced down all around them.

"Is that us or the O's?"

"Looks like Legion stars to me."

The rain was letting up. Something rattled past us, a black blur. Then a river of cold black molten mercury glittered under us, catching the light from a sky full of psybloc, multicolored sparklers falling slowly down into the dark. We followed the river like a great cenite bat, the wind whistling eerily past our armored plex, and it looked as cold as death down there, a river of black ice lethargically flowing out of some frozen wasteland, some arctic Hell. Bleak hills rose on each side of the river.

"Sir?" My eyes snapped down to my comset readout: B13, on private to me.

"Yes, Thirteen?" It was the new girl—what was her name? Twister. Who else would call me 'sir'? She was sitting right next to me, I suddenly realized, clutching her E.

"I'm scared," she said. Just that. She turned her head to me and I saw her pale frightened face behind her visor. Soft brown eyes, freckles all over her nose and cheeks. She was like a big, awkward colt, barely out of puberty. What in Deadman's name was she doing here? They hadn't even sent her to Hell.

"Good," I said. "That's normal. If you weren't scared, you'd be crazy. You're supposed to be scared. We're all scared. Don't worry."

"Valkyrie's not scared," she said shakily.

"Valkyrie's crazy," I replied. "She's been through a lot. She's got an excuse."

"Psycho's not s-s-scared," she said.

"Psycho's also crazy," I said. "Certifiably insane. He's different."

"How about One," she asked. "He's not scared, is he?"

"One is our leader," I said. "He's got ice water in his veins. He's different, too. But the rest of us are all terrified—so don't feel like you're alone, all right?"

"But I'm so s-scared my teeth are ch-ch-chattering. And we…we're not even in combat." I looked into her faceplate. Her face was twitching, cold sweat on her brow.

"Try to relax, Twister," I said. "Take some deep breaths. Maybe you should take a mag."

"Can I hold your hand? Please?"

I took her hand in mine, wordlessly. Cenite fingers, intertwined. It did seem to work. Her face stopped twitching. She closed her eyes and bit at her lower lip. And we kept going, rushing into the dark, now deep in O territory, right in the death zone, and things were coming at us from out of nowhere and flashing past, gone. Black mountains wheeled past to one side and we were still over that river of ink. The O's were up ahead somewhere, waiting to kill us, and I was holding hands with Beta Thirteen. Well, it wasn't the Legion I knew, but I had to admit it did feel good. I felt better already.

"Hot metal! They'll never spot us under this sky!" It was a deceptor sky, glittering and flickering, black clouds with silver edges, strange lights flashing and fading and the screens solid green, full of junk. Something ricocheted off our aircar.

"That was a deceptor!" Redhawk shouted happily. "There's so much crap falling down, we're running into it! We're free, guys—free!"

Gildron snarled, and it put a chill to my blood. He was a massive A-suit in the back of the car, sitting next to Tara. Psycho snarled back at him and made ape noises.

"Shut down, Psycho," Valkyrie snapped.

"I'll shut down if you come back here and sit on my, uh, lap, honeybuns," Psycho retorted cheerily.

"Psycho, if you don't get with the program I'm going to take your Manlink away and give it to Dragon," Valkyrie said. "That's a promise!"

"Good idea," Dragon said.

"Can she do that, One?" Psycho asked. The Manlink was his only love. It was Beta's Mother of Destruction, totally evil and totally holy.

"Shut down, Five," Snow Leopard said. Psycho sighed and shut down.

The car shuddered. Twister settled down and I carefully removed my hand. I did not want Priestess getting the wrong idea. I caught a glimpse of jagged black mountains far above us, outlined by flickering blue lightning. We continued, into that awful night. I felt we were rushing onward to our own extinction.

"Talk to me, Priestess," I said on private.

"What is it, Thinker?" she answered. "How are you doing?"

"How am I doing?" I stifled a laugh. "I guess I was wishing I was somewhere else. With you."

"Do you know what I want, Thinker?"

"No. What do you want?"

"I want to be your wife, forever. For all time. As long as we both shall live."

"Sounds good to me. Although I'd worry about that last part."

"Promise me, Thinker. You and me. Forever. Swear it, on Deadman."

"Priestess and Thinker. A billion years. On the cross!"

"And if we die, we seek each other out, in Heaven."

"I promise, Priestess. Forever."

"Cross your heart and hope to die?"

"Cross my heart and hope to die."

###

"Decar!" Ice cold adrenalin. The aircar's assault doors snapped open, a cold wind rushed in from outside, and Beta One stood right in the door like a dark angel from some Legion Hell, all black armor and glowing red faceplate, his E strapped to his chest.

"Follow me, Beta," he commanded. "It's all for one, and one for all. Death!" And he was gone, into the dark.

"Death!" We hissed the response and tumbled out the door, following our One all the way, to life or death, to Heaven or Hell. Whatever road he chose, we'd be right in his footsteps, and if anything got in our way, it was going to die very quickly.

"I want to pick up twelve troopers when you call for evac, gang," Redhawk called out. "Don't disappoint me."

"Keep it in the red, Redhawk," I responded. "Fast and low!" And the aircar was gone in a blizzard of dead leaves.

We were in a cold dark forest full of great ferns growing around twisted black trees draped with strangler vines like thick brown snakes. A light rain fell from the tangled roof of the forest. We saw it all in darksight green. I crashed through undergrowth, trying to keep Dragon in sight—he was right up ahead. It was a winter forest, rising up all around us. We headed into a ravine, sliding down wet dirty slopes into the cold heart of this nightmare world. We had to put distance between us and the aircar as fast as possible. All for one, I thought, and one for all. I had never heard that before—but Snow Leopard was perfectly correct. What better words to describe a Legion squad?

"It's a walk in the park, Twister," I said. "A walk in the park!" It wasn't really me speaking. It was Coolhand. He was with me; he was in me. I knew I had to take his role—somebody sure did. Snow Leopard was too far gone now—he was losing his patience. And Valkyrie wanted only blood.

"Tenners, Sir," Twister replied. "I'm all right."

"Death!" Speedy muttered. "I don't believe he said that. Is he serious? Is that where we're going?"

"It's for luck, new meat," Psycho told him. "Listen and learn!"

"It's a holy place," Valkyrie added. "You'll see—we'll show you! I told you, stop worrying!" Out of her mind. Completely gone. But I had no time to think about it. I was too busy tearing through the ferns, sliding down cliffs of mud and roots and vines, splashing through an icy fast-running stream, eyes on my tacmod. If the O's had tracked the aircar, they'd know where to look for us. And the only solution to that was to move out as fast as possible.

Four hours later, we slowed down but we were still sloshing through dark wet jungle, eleven soldiers, single file, following our One into the unknown. It was raining lightly and from time to time dim lights flickered in the dark sky past the forest canopy. Otherwise it was like a green cathedral, tall trees glowing green-black in our darksight, wreathed in mist. Some of the trees were all white, phospho white, like ghosts. It was cold and wet and miserable. We were following a little stream through a steep ravine.

"Squad halt. Break." I moved away from the stream into the jungle and collapsed in a mass of ferns. I was tired already. Icy rain streamed down my faceplate.

"Wester, it's Tara." She was on private, I noticed. Tara always called me Wester. She had named me herself, in our own impossible past.

"Yes, Tara."

"You've been with this bunch a long time, haven't you?"

"That's a ten."

"This Beta Eleven person—Valkyrie—what is her problem?"

"That's not easy to answer, Tara. She's been through a lot."

"So have I. But I'm still coherent and rational."

"All right, she's a little strange. What do you want me to say?"

"Why is she your Number Two?"

"You'd better ask Beta One. It wasn't my choice."

"Are we supposed to trust her, when things get hot? I've done a little probing—it's frightening!"

"Tara—I don't quite know how to say this, but I think she is just what we need, for where we're going."

"Are you serious?"

"I'm afraid so."

"You've changed a lot, Wester. You really have."

"Yes—I suppose I have."

"Three, One." I cut the link with Tara immediately. It was Snow Leopard, on private to me. Now what?

"Yes, One?"

"Give me a readout of your tacnet power reserve."

Sweety came through with the data. I asked her to repeat it before I relayed it to Snow Leopard.

"It's in the red, One. Twenty-four percent."

"Thank you, Three. One out."

Twenty-four percent. What the hell! It should have read a hundred. I knew I checked it before we left. That was strange—very strange.

"Sweety," I asked. "What happened to the tacnet power reserve?"

My Persist responded immediately. "The power charge has dissipated itself, Thinker. It was at full power at last reading."

"I know that, Sweety. But why has it done that? It's not supposed to do that. We've expended no power. The damned things are supposed to last for years! Why didn't you tell me when it was getting low?"

"The charge status indicator failed to register the true status of the charge until I investigated, Thinker. I have insufficient data to resolve the problem. It is possible that the power pack is defective."

Defective? I had never heard of a defective power pack. Strange.

"Let's get moving, guys." It was Snow Leopard. We were off again.

###

"Looks quiet, gang." Snow Leopard lowered the spotters but kept contemplating the valley. The night sky was covered with undulating black clouds, flickering now and then with eerie silver lights. A distant thunder sounded, rumbling over the skies. We were peering out of the edge of the forest, perched on a sheer cliff overlooking the valley. We could barely make out a thin silver stream, meandering along the bottom of the valley. The rest of the valley was unreadable in our darksight—a great dark shifting gash in the mountains. The sky was full of deceptors, and it made everything hard to read.

"That's our river, right, One?" I asked.

"That's a ten. We'll walk it and catch some sleep and by then it will be daylight. We'll walk it all day, and should be in position to make our break tomorrow night."

"Sounds good to me," Dragon said. "I'm ready to crash." We had been walking for close to seven hours. Every muscle in my body ached.

"There it goes again, One!" Merlin exclaimed.

"Possible DefCorps presence," Sweety reported, "as marked. Very faint, masked by deceptors. Identification is tentative."

Snow Leopard scrambled over to where Merlin was scanning the valley. He raised the spotter again. They were looking back up the valley behind us. There was something there, roughly southeast. The valley ran to the northwest and that was where we were going. Snow Leopard and Merlin kept scanning the valley.

"Nothing but chaff."

"That was a Systie A-suit. That was a reasonably good reading."

"Just like before—more or less."

"Systie armor. Damn it!"

The sky flickered and flashed. More deceptors. The glare outlined Snow Leopard and Merlin clearly, cenite robots wrapped in camfax, caught in a frozen hail of rain suddenly filling the sky.