"Maybe it'll slow down these damned aircars," Priestess commented. Another car shot past, buffeting us again with an icy breeze. Gildron roared at it, enraged.
###
The 22nd Replacement Depot was a brand new squadmod buried in the tunnel wall. The interior swarmed with troopers fighting for access to some admin types sitting behind a counter piled high with doc printouts, plastic manuals and d-screens.
"Would you troopers please stop tracking mud all over the deck?"
"Gee, I'm sorry!"
"Did he actually say that?"
Gildron started pushing people aside for us and we were soon at the counter. Most of the objections ceased once the troopers got a good look at Gildron. He was big and bad, and not quite human. We stood behind a group of three new replacements. The admin fellow behind the counter spoke, reading from a d-screen.
"All right, here's your orders. Tenth Regiment, the Fourth, CAT Thirty-One. They're at Axis Gold. Transport is available at the Twenty-Second's Aircar Control Center. It's all in the orders. Next!" He pushed three datapaks across the counter.
"Just a frac," one of the troopers objected. "We were told to report to the Third Amtac Support Squadron. We're techs, and they need us."
"You were told wrong," the admin clerk snapped back. "You've just been reassigned. The Tenth needs bodies, and you're it. Now get moving." He was a thin man with a narrow face and a shrill, raspy voice.
"We're techs!" another trooper objected. "We fix amtacs—you can send somebody else to the Tenth!"
"Don't tell me what to do, trooper! You've just been assigned to the Tenth. Those are your orders. Now disappear! Next!"
I pushed my way up to the counter. "We need the location of Squad Beta, CAT Two Four, Black Twelfth. We're returning to our unit."
"How many of you?" His beady little eyes darted over our group, lingering on Gildron.
"Five. We've got orders."
"Let's see 'em." We handed over our orders, and he fed them into the system. "Just a frac." He consulted a d-screen, then made an entry.
"All right," he said, "you're reassigned to the Tenth Regiment, the Fourth, CAT Fourteen. Location is Axis Gold. Transport is…"
"Hold it!" I said.
"Don't interrupt, trooper! Transport is…"
"Whoa!" I objected. "We already have orders, mister! We're going to Squad Beta of CAT Two Four, Second of the Twelfth, and all I need from you is the zero. Now how about it?"
"Your orders have just been changed, trooper," he snarled at me. "All loose bodies are now going to the Tenth. That's the way it is! So pick up your orders and get out of my sight!"
"May I handle this, Thinker?" Dragon asked me.
"Be my guest." I turned away from the admin puke in disgust.
Dragon smiled at the puke. Then he placed one well-muscled arm on the counter, and cleared it of everything, sweeping it all onto the floor. The room was suddenly dead quiet except for a single dox cup, rolling around on the deck. Dragon reached over the counter, seized the clerk by his tunic, and pulled him over the counter until their faces were only mils apart.
"We're not loose bodies," Dragon said through clenched teeth. "We're with the Twelfth. We're returning to our squad, and we're not going to take any crap from you or anybody else. You are going to give us the location of our squad, and give us back our original orders, right now, or I'll rip your arms out of their sockets and feed them to our friend here." Gildron showed his teeth. The room full of troopers burst into applause, shouting encouragement.
"You're not replacements?" the puke asked. He was sweating. Dragon shook his head, slowly.
"All right…all right," the puke said. "You're not replacements." Dragon threw him back into his chair. The puke shakily pulled himself together again, and rolled the chair back to his post by the counter. "Sorry…I thought you were replacements." The puke tried a smile, but it didn't work. "Squad Beta, you say."
"We've said that several times."
"All right! Don't get upset—I thought you were replacements. Replacements go where they're needed most. We'll find your squad—relax!"
###
"Aw right, who's in charge here?" I shouted. I knew damned well who was in charge, but I had to announce our entrance somehow. Beta was camped out in an enormous black hole torn out of the raw earth just off one of the main corridors of the milbase. It was a nightmare scene from the lower reaches of Hell, a few flickering lights casting long spooky shadows on wet dirt walls, a dead dark aircar surrounded by shadowy figures, piles of equipment stacked on a floor of mud, and someone approaching us out of the dark. It was Beta One—Snow Leopard.
"So you found us," he said calmly. "Good. That's good." He was in camfax fatigues, his long blond hair brushed straight back, a comset clipped to one shoulder. His pale face was completely free of emotion, but his hot red eyes glittered with determination. Beta One was back with us, I could tell. For awhile there I thought we had lost him, after Mongera. "Three, Eight, Nine, welcome back," he said. "They told me about your friends. Tamaling, welcome. I hope Three's visit was useful to you." Cintana Tamaling was Tara's Systie name. One had obviously read her file, which urged us not to use her true name, Antara Tarantos-Hanna. It was a name that could lead to her death.
Tara looked around at our quarters. "Yes," she responded with a dazzling white smile. "Most useful. I appreciate your letting them go."
"We appreciate the help you gave us on Mongera. And this is Gildron." He was looking up at the ape-man. Gildron showed his teeth, but remained silent.
"You'll find him useful," Tara said. "I can't get along without him."
"It's Dragon and Thinker—and Priestess! They've brought the ape!" I recognized Psycho's obnoxious braying. It didn't even bother me—I was that glad to be back.
"Welcome back, guys!" Merlin materialized out of the shadows, smiling. He had a ration pack under one arm. Merlin was our brains. He knew pretty much everything.
"We missed you, Big Guy," Scrapper said, sparkling grey eyes and a face full of freckles and a mop of tawny hair. I had never figured out why she insisted on calling me Big Guy. She had been Warhound's obsession. The last time I saw her, on Veda 6, she had marched up to me unexpectedly and said throatily, "Thinker, I want you to know I'm sorry about Warhound." Then she turned abruptly, to hide her face, and stalked away awkwardly.
Warhound had been killed on Mongera. It was hard to even think about it.
"Three!" It was Redhawk, pale splotchy face, tangled red hair, a scruffy beard. He threw an E at me and I caught the weapon in one hand. It was my own E—an old friend. Memories washed over me. Someone had picked it up out of the mud after I was hit on Mongera. I knew every scar on this E, every ridge, every chip, every burn. And now she was back with me. United at last, just as it should be, on Uldo. I could see the weapon had been re-engineered. More dark magic to confound our foes. I looked up at the dripping dirt ceiling. I was home—home at last. Who could ask for more? I clutched the E tighter. Me and my girl, together again, at last.
"All right," Snow Leopard said calmly, "briefing—now. Three, Eight, Nine, Tamaling. Over here." We followed Snow Leopard over to a pile of dropboxes. Someone set off a hotstar and it crackled to life near the aircar. It was cold—my nose and lips were already numb.
"Have some dox." Snow Leopard tore open a pack and we greedily helped ourselves, popping open the cups and burning our lips on the suddenly steaming liquid. We gathered around Snow Leopard, savoring the dox. Gildron stood off to one side, snarling at Psycho, who was staring at him. Psycho snarled back, making ape noises. Psycho was a little guy, blond hair, lunatic blue eyes and a wise-ass attitude. He was fearless in battle and a giant pain when it was quiet.
"You'd better terminate that, Psycho," Dragon warned, "or my friend will remove your head." Psycho smiled. He liked to live dangerously.
"Nice quarters," Priestess said.
"It's not the best," Snow Leopard admitted, "but we'll be moving out soon. You're just in ti
me. All right, here's the sit—we've got a mission. It's a good mission. I'm very pleased with the mission." He did not look very pleased, but it was impossible to read Beta One any more. He was just like a biogen. He was the ultimate squad leader.
"Have any of you been briefed on the sit here on Uldo?" he asked, "the general situation?"
"That's a twelve," I replied. "We just got here."
"I see. All right." Snow Leopard looked up to the ceiling, then down at his dox. "Well, let me tell you. I think our squad has been greatly privileged to play a leading role in some of the more important historical events of our time. The mission to Mongera was one for the books. We paid the price, gang, but when we're all dead and gone, our descendants are still going to be reading about that one. And this one—the return to Uldo—is destined to be even more significant." He paused to sip his dox. His pale pink eyes were far away.
"This is humanity's first joint response against the O's. We have at last set aside our differences to unite against the common threat. And how ironic that it should be here, on Uldo. It's the wheels of history, gang—the Gods are laughing at us. It's a cosmic joke." Snow Leopard stared into space, alone with his thoughts. It was almost as if he was talking to himself. I had no idea what he meant.
"What do you mean, Snow Leopard?" Priestess asked. Apparently I was not alone in my ignorance.
Snow Leopard blinked, and came back to us. "Don't you remember Uldo, from the history of the Legion? That was in Basic. The Cauldron, they called it. The Cauldron."
The Cauldron! Of course, now I remembered. That was where I had heard about Uldo before, in Basic. The Race War. The Legion had met the DefCorps here in a great battle, on Uldo.
"Uldo was a ConFree world," Snow Leopard said, "and the System was expanding and powerful in those days. They dropped onto Uldo with all they had. And the Legion countered them. All of Starcom was involved. We had four Legions down here. Four Legions." Snow Leopard paused, his eyes focusing on images we could not see.
"We lost the vac first, then the at. The Eighth Legion was ultimately trapped downside. The whole Legion—it was hopeless, but nobody surrendered. The DefCorps moved in. They had to fight for every mike of land. That was the Cauldron. Nobody from the Eighth survived—not a single trooper. They fought to the death—all of them. The whole Legion, gone, snuffed out like a candle. There were rivers of blood and forests of bones. The Systies paid for their victory. They never revealed their casualties."
It was one of the darkest chapters in the Legion's history. Now I remembered what they had said: There were so many A-suits buried in the killing fields that the cenite poisoned the soil, and nothing would grow there.
"The Systies took Uldo," Snow Leopard said, "and enslaved the population and imported their own races and made their own world here. Then—a few weeks ago—the Omnis came, just the way they always do, dropping from the skies like fireflies. Millions of them. Soon they were swarming over Uldo, and the Systies knew they had lost another world. That's when they made the political decision to call in the Legion."
Snow Leopard looked up again, to the flickering shadows on the ceiling. "Such irony. The Legion returns to Uldo, allied with the System, to fight the O's." He looked vaguely around. "The Legion has decided the O's are to be stopped here, on Uldo. They've never been stopped, but we're going to stop them, here. We're giving it all we've got. And we'll never leave. Uldo's earth is soaked in Legion blood. This is our home, gang. Our home."
The rest of the squad was loading up the aircar with supplies. I saw a few people I didn't know. It looked like we were going somewhere.
"So what's the mission, One?" Dragon asked. I was freezing. I took another sip of hot dox.
Snow Leopard put down his cup. "The mission, right. There's a big offensive underway, right into the O's axis of advance. We've got a recon—a very important recon. We are to accompany advance elements of the Twelfth to the forward battle area and then jump off, making our way surreptitiously to the target. It's deep in Omni territory."
"And the target?" Dragon asked.
"It's an Omni installation," Snow Leopard replied. "Take a look." He opened a doc case and pulled out some reconsat shots. The prints showed what looked like a vast earthen mound, roughly circular, rising from a dark smoky plain. Little plumes of smoke seeped from the mound, caught in a light breeze. Faint trails could be seen running around the outside.
"What is it?" Tara asked.
"Nobody knows," Snow Leopard replied. "We only know it was built by the O's. They're building these all over the planet. After they secure an area, they build one of these…mounds."
"So it's an Omni base?"
"We're not sure. The funny thing is, there's not a lot of activity at the mounds. We don't see many O's around these structures. Only a few. What we do see are human captives—lots of them, marching into the entrances. Those dark openings at the bottom there. Here, here's a good shot." He passed us another print. A long, ragged line of hopeless refugees, hunched over against a cold wind, heading for the Mound. Men, women, children. Toddlers, walking bravely beside their parents. Babies, in their mothers' arms.
"Where are the O's?"
"That's it—there aren't any. It's psypower. The O's want them in the mounds—they have to go."
I didn't want to see any more. I passed the print on to Tara. Her face was cold and hard.
"What do the O's do with them?"
"That's our mission. Determine what goes on in the mounds. Once we report back, the Legion will decide what to do."
"The Legion should attack right now! Why the delay?"
"There's a lot of things the Legion should do. But we've got a war to fight, too. We've got to take on the O's face to face and defeat them and push them back. The offensive is starting right now. If we can't do that, there's no sense in dropping a heavy force in behind the lines to face who knows what. No, there has to be a recon first. By the time we're through, it should also be clear if we can defeat the O's or not. If we can, there should be some resources freed up to target the mounds, if that's what has to be done. If we can't, it won't matter."
We were interrupted by a noisy outburst from the shadows.
"Does not."
"Does so."
"Does not!"
"Dwarf!"
"Mutant!" Psycho and Redhawk were discussing the move over by the aircar. Valkyrie intervened.
"Blackout! What is this, a playschool? Shut down, both of you!" Valkyrie was pale and angry. The black Legion cross on her forehead added a little edge. She was a stunningly lovely blonde vision. She had been mine, once, but she didn't belong to anybody now—except maybe the Legion.
"Does not!"
"Does so!"
"Shut down, creeps!"
Snow Leopard sighed, and turned back to us. "Dragon, you know I wanted you as our Two, but you were away. Eleven is our new Two."
"Valkyrie?" Eight could hardly believe it. Neither could I.
"She's a good trooper. Dependable—and fearless."
"Crazy, you mean."
"She's got the experience. She was Two for Gamma. And you weren't here. So she's it."
"Tenners."
"Now—do you all know why Tamaling is here?"
"That's a twelve, One," I said. "We don't know—except she has orders."
"I don't know either," Tara said, "and I'm more than a little curious."
"All right," Snow Leopard said. "I've briefed Valkyrie. I see no need for everyone in the squad to know this, but I'll brief the four of you." Snow Leopard looked up at Gildron, who was staring at him intently. "Does he understand anything I'm saying?"
"Gildron understands much," Tara replied, "especially kindness, and hostility. He responds appropriately to both."
"Wonderful," Snow Leopard said. "All right, here it is. I received orders from Xcom late yesterday—after the Legion spoke with you, Tamaling."
"Call me Cinta, please."
"Cinta—fine. The orders came direct from Starcom. H
igh-level stuff, and most unusual. They say you are a very powerful psycher, and are to accompany us on our mission to the Mound. They believe your psychic abilities may prove useful."
"Do they!"
"Yes. Are you a psycher?"
"Yes. That's correct."
"Really. What am I thinking?"
"You're thinking you'd like to pull my panties down and lick my—ah…"
"All right! Close enough!" Snow Leopard blushed, his face suddenly turning scarlet. Dragon couldn't help laughing. "I'm sorry," Snow Leopard said. "Sorry."
"It's all right," Tara said. "I get a lot of that."
"Are you in good physical shape?" Snow Leopard asked.
"Yes. I am."
"Ever wear an A-suit?"
"I've worn Legion and Systie armor."
"Good. Now how about your friend—what's his name?"
"Gildron."
"What can he do?"
"He's strong—and faithful. He'll do whatever I ask."
"Why is he here? I can hardly believe they gave him orders."
"They gave him orders because I insisted on it. When they told me I was to link up with your squad, I decided I wanted him with me."
"You insisted on it." Snow Leopard just stared at her. It did not add up.
"That's right." Tara stared back.
Snow Leopard looked at her for a long time, then shifted his glance to Gildron. "He'll be a liability."
"He'll be an asset!"
"They don't make A-suits that big. And he'll need an A-suit where we're going."
"You'll find him useful—with or without an A-suit."
Snow Leopard stared at the man-ape thoughtfully.
"All right," Snow Leopard said. "But he is to obey my commands—not yours. And if he causes the slightest problem, we leave him behind. And if you object to that, we leave you behind. Understand?"
"Understood," Tara said. "He won't give you any trouble. He's quiet, and strong. You'll like him." Gildron suddenly reached out an arm and put a massive hand on Snow Leopard's shoulder, staring at him intently.
"See?" Tara smiled in delight. "He likes you! Good, Gildron, good!"
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